#he is the Shield of Faerghus after all

[recurringwriter]

hi so i have a theory that all faith magic users draw their ability with faith from something to become more powerful (so like linhardt gets stronger the more he learns, mercedes the more she worships, flayn the more friends she has, etc.) what would rodrigue draw his power from in your opinion

I do like to think that it can be faith in Anything, so Rodrigue has this unwavering belief in Lambert and in Faerghus, and that just keeps growing. Belief in the Goddess. Belief in the future. Belief in Felix and Dimitri and that Glenn's death (and life) had meaning.

I think that he also has faith in himself, maybe not that he is the Most Confident person in the world, but he has faith that he will choose to do the right thing, and believes that he can make a difference for his home and all the people he cares about. He's adaptable and willing to approach things in different ways, and to act before the worry can set in, because he believes in just Doing the right thing.

And all that propels him forward, originating with Lambert (and Lambert's belief in him?)--and Rodrigue's unswerving loyalty to his home. Because Lambert is/was his home, the epitome of what Faerghus was becoming.

So in the context of your specific question, I think Rodrigue would draw power from the people he befriends and loves--the people he wants to shield. The more people he can and wants to protect, the stronger he can be.

[randomnameless]

Something I randomly noticed -

The altered golems' armor have a lion on their "torso", much like Nopes!Dimitri - even if they are exclusively used by the church.

In the same vein, Cichol's shield represents a lion too.

Was the lion a symbol previously used by the Church? Or associated to Nabateans?

It'd be funny if it was the case, because the Lion imagery later went to the Kingdom (with Loog!) instead of the Empire, who instead has the double headed eagle despite Rhea's participation in its creation.

Unless Adrestia's former sigil was a lion, and then later changed to the double headed eagle - Loog recovering the "lion" imagery would mean he and his new country return to something more in touch with OG Adrestia, compared to what it had become?

Or it had always been the double headed eagle, standing for Seiros and Willy (?), and while the Church kept some lion symbolism, it was later replaced with Rhea's crest - Loog reappropriating the lion sigil could have meant he wanted to become closer to a proto church, aka one without Adrestia's influence?

Or both Nabateans and Loog thought lions were cool and it's just a coincidence.

in b4 dimitri receiving Cichol Willy's shield thinking it's Loog's shield and feeling very grateful to use his ancestor's weapons to walk in his steps, before Rhea bursts his bubble and tells him it belonged to "the greatest Emperor who ever existed" Willy.

[songsofadelaide]

As a child of one of the Kingdom's noble families, you were subject to your family's many plans to maintain its standing in society. At every tail end of the Lone Moon since you turned six, when winter wraps Faerghus in its tightest and most frigid embrace, you would find yourself in the Dukedom of Fraldarius, under the watchful but caring gaze of Uncle Rodrigue, or that was what he encouraged you to call him. He said his eldest son already had a match, his betrothed a lady of a noble house too. Rodrigue wished Felix to forge the same warm friendship and companionship that Glenn and Ingrid already had... with someone. Someone he would come to love in the future. Rodrigue silently hoped that it would be you.

"...a love match," the older man said, his voice fading in the background as Felix, a boy dressed in the distinct Fraldarius blue, stepped out from behind his mother's skirts at her gentle urging.

"Say hello, cub," the lady of the house said in a tone so dulcet that it made the heat rise to your face. The boy's shy brown eyes met yours and somehow your young heart figured that you two could make things work. From what you remember, your parents were a love match— an extraordinary one, the kind many thought wouldn't work out but eventually did.

"Hello," you broke the silence with a single greeting and a smile that told him, let's work things out. "Shall we make our New Year's resolutions together?"

And every year, by the fireplace, next to his parents' blanketed feet, you and Felix whispered your resolutions for the new year in each other's ears, both of you looking forward to the fresh set of pages in a storybook that was yours to fill out and create.

"I want my swordsmanship to improve..." "I want to read more books..." "I want to get taller still..." "I want to get better at casting magic..."

In 1177, Felix stopped making resolutions, which wasn't all surprising.

Felix had no idea where to put this grief. You coaxed him out of his room at his mother's behest, but he had no words for you. When you held him in your arms as best you could, he barely moved himself.

You were present with House Fraldarius when they held a memorial for Glenn, a true knight of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, or so Rodrigue said, and not even your soothing touch could quell Felix's fist, his entire body seizing in a tempered rage he tried his best to contain. He was not the only one who lost a loved one, after all. And yet, he couldn't stomach how his father glazed over his eldest son's death. No words of embellishment will take away the fact that Glenn was killed horrifically in the Tragedy of Duscur. Felix would resent his father for that.

In 1178, when Prince Dimitri unlocked a certain bloodlust whilst suppressing an insurrection in west Faerghus, you were half-certain Felix might have developed the same grisly instinct, but you were relieved to find out that he was blatantly disgusted by the boar's unhinged behaviour.

In 1180, you entered the Officers Academy along with the other scions of the Kingdom's noble houses. As Felix grew into a swordsman of exceptional skill, he also kept you at an arm's length away, but again, that did not surprise you at all. You were a distraction to him, more or less, and he would appreciate you more if you showed yourself less to him. It was then you realised that he always sought you out at his own pace, that he desired your presence still, but only on his call.

"It's fine. It doesn't have to be me, as long as you're happy, Felix." "No," he hastily grabbed your hand. "It has to be you."

Felix brought you home with him when the Officers Academy closed its doors due to the internal strife simultaneously occurring in Faerghus, Adrestia and Leicester. It was then he became Duke Fraldarius, the Shield of Faerghus, and you, the lady of his house. When the war gong was struck, you stood by your husband rather than shying away from the fighting. Being Felix's assigned healer during your short stay at the Officers Academy granted you certain synchronicity with him. The two of you worked seamlessly beside each other, and he moved in complete confidence that you would have his back if no one else did. 

The war against Adrestia raged on for months, until it converged to a year, and it felt like you were the only one keeping tabs on the days that passed. The calluses in your hands thickened like the snow that usually blanketed Fraldarius this time of the year.

This time of the year...

"What are you doing?"

Your reverie was broken by your husband's query. It was still so odd to think that you two were married now, even though that was exactly what Rodrigue— your father-in-law— wanted from the start.

"Almost lost track of time because of how long this war's been dragging," you shrugged at him. "Happy New Year. Or not. We'll probably be asleep at the turning of the new moon."

Felix caught the quick twinkle in your eyes, his lips softening to a small smile that caught you off-guard. He stepped into your space and slipped his gloved hand in yours, pulling you further into the privacy of his quarters and straight into his arms.

"Felix?..."

"I want to be a better husband to you."

His voice was hushed to a whisper, and you could only blink to yourself as he held you much tighter. His breath was warm against your neck and it was there you noticed just how fast his heart was beating.

"I..." You started, only for a gentle laugh to leave your lips. "I want to be a better lady of the house."

He chuckled in relief when you returned his embrace, his hair coming undone from its ribbon just in time as you pressed a tender kiss to his cheek.

"Happy New Year, Duke Fraldarius."

Felix returned your gesture in kind, his lips stealing the warmth of your breath not long after. He still can't believe he played right into his father's hands the moment the old man introduced you to him— one of the very few things he is truly thankful for. Now he gets to call you his, he gets to protect you as part of his home, and he is yours, too.

"Happy New Year, my wife."

[lunar-soren]

…as duke fraldarius, felix worked for years to revitalize and rebuild his territory. he became the king's right-hand man, serving as a trusted adviser… later in his life, he inherited his father's nickname and was known throughout the kingdom as the Shield of Faerghus's successor…

…as margrave gautier, sylvain devoted his life to improving relations with the people of the sreng region. with oration alone, he succeeded in helping to create a new way of life for nobles in which relics and crests were no longer viewed as necessary…

…after his coronation, dimitri spent his life reforming and ruling justly over fódlan... he lived for his people and alongside them, and was thusly dubbed the Savior King…

he will tear your city down / o lei, o lai, o Lord!

thoughts on composition under the cut bc im Super Proud of this one

starting with felix, the Soldier, carrying the sword of moralta, raised to swing. he's seen from the back because I wanted to put emphasis on him being the vanguard, the Shield. also because this angle emphasizes his eyelashes.

sylvain, the Poet, is framed centered on his mouth and hands as he speaks. he wears no armor, only a quilted coat, leather gloves, and a cloak — pinned with the crest of gautier, struck through. the pin crossing through the crest was very deliberate.

and dimitri, the King, is kneeling. his head is bent to obscure his expression, hands raised to cover his mouth. the crown is floating because I wanted to emphasize the divinity of the title "savior king." I also made his scar as ugly as possible for the "thorn" in the lyrics.

each of their crests is visible in their piece as well!! I replaced the crest of chevalier visible on the sword of moralta with the crest of fraldarius, sylvain's cloak pin is the crest of gautier, and the blaiddyd crest is etched on the crown!

all in all this was a very experimental piece for me!!! I usually rely on eyes and eyebrows to convey emotion, and with both dimitri and felix's mouths covered it was a very fun challenge to get the vibes I was going for :3c

[dpsisquared]

Some immediately post-Gronder angst for wipwed

"I entrust the future of Faerghus, and the young prince, to you," the old man had said.

It was the polite, noble version of Felix's, "Do something about that creature." When he realized he had treated Byleth the same way his father had, he felt sick.

Putting that responsibility on her shoulders would only lead to chivalry, the twisted idea that her life was inherently less valuable than the boar's or anyone else's. No, the professor would not be another sacrificial slaughter offered up to the Faerghan altar of death worship. He would make sure of it.

So night after night, he watched her cajole the delusional prince into eating, recap the war councils he never attended and strategies he would never follow, all while being alternately ignored and berated for her troubles.

She bore it all in her stoic way, but Felix had seen her leaving with tears welling in her eyes more than once.

And now the stupid, brave, insufferable old man was dead. Another Fraldarius body thrown in front of Dimitri to shield him from harm.

It wasn't really the boar's fault. Knowing Dimitri, he'd probably have preferred to be the one to die. But he hadn't died, so he was going to get a piece of Felix's mind.

He slunk out from behind a pillar after the professor finally left. Hopefully she went to get a bath. She was still covered in the blood of Rodrigue, Dimitri, some crazy girl, and half the imperial army.

"You're a fucking idiot, boar."

The prince merely grunted.

"You could still have her if you wanted. You could go to her tomorrow-- hell, right now-- apologize, and she'd forgive you."

Dimitri stared stubbornly at the rubble, and Felix had nearly given up on getting a response when the prince finally spoke, voice a ruined rasp.

"I know. She would all too willingly be consumed by this beast," he said. "All the more reason I must never waver."

[egittae]

[drabble] unfulfilled

tw: death, grieving loss of loved one, referenced child neglect

Lambert wasn’t allowed to be by her side as she reached the last stretch of twilight within her life. The fears of him contracting the already highly contagious disease and leaving Faerghus without a king was too much, and the possibility of it reaching the new prince and effectively killing off the entire royal family in one fell swoop only hardened the court’s resolve in separating the couple.

He couldn’t be by her side and hold her hand as she left, he couldn’t give her one last peck on the cheek before sending her off to the eternal end. She’d march this lonely road without hearing his voice declaring his love to her one last time.

Had this been a year prior, Lambert would’ve rebelled against the court and fought every single individual who stood between him and his wife’s deathbed. He promised her in their wedding vows that he’d be with her in life and death, and he was determined to see that promise through.

Yet the king found himself willingly in a separate wing of the palace of Fhirdiad, heavily guarded to the point it was nearly barricaded from the outside world with shields of magic layered on each other. The air was thicker there, almost choking under the weight of castings of light and passive magic from sigils and runes on every wall to the point that anyone more attuned to magic would’ve surely gotten severely disoriented. Lambert however, saw weakness turn into boon, as his naturally awful magic affinity left him unbothered by the excessive protective measures of his court’s mages.

Him, and the little bundle of life soundly asleep in his arms as the lone king stared out the window seeking for nothing in particular. Both were born with weak affinity to magic, both possessed the same pair of bright blue eyes and a mop of blond hair. And hopefully, the little one would come to possess the star that runs in his veins, as well. He was a perfect little baby, born healthy as a horse and screaming with powerful lungs, yet quickly showed himself to be quiet and docile. Lambert already had a name ready in his mind the moment that child was placed in his arms for the first time, and the middle name was decided by him and his wife, together.

Five months, perhaps even less. By five months, Lambert didn’t lose his wife and his son to the disease that now ravaged through the territory. Perhaps he should’ve considered that a blessing of the Goddess- that her watchful eye showed mercy for the child and hurried for him to be born before certain death, but at that point the king doubted even that. Born and raised to be a believer, and yet now he flirted with heresy and wondered if his prayers for his wife’s health were met with a deaf ear by the Goddess he believed was an all powerful, loving and gentle Mother who dutifully looked after her children on land.

His wife’s death wasn’t an act of mercy. Lambert knew, no matter how much Kriemhild tried to hide it, that the disease was shredding her body apart. That behind every smile and attempts at reassuring him that all was well and that she felt better by the day, that it was all a ruse- a white blanket placed atop a hemorrhaging wound and slowly getting stained by crimson iron. The moment the bells echoed through the capital and reverberated through the palace’s structure announcing the queen’s death on that sunny afternoon, that his wife had died suffering, in pain and alone, Lambert knew there was no divine mercy to be found.

If punishing deaths were meant for those who deserved it, then he was left to sit there and simply wonder what Kriemhild could’ve ever done to deserve being slowly consumed by disease, a punishment not only to herself but also to her family, forced to watch her fading helplessly.

Lambert wondered what he had ever done to deserve this.

Lambert wondered what his son, who was not even a year old, had done to deserve a life without his mother.

He had gotten used to those bells before, having heard them when his father had died, and when his mother met her end as well. For high ranked knights and nobles they too rang, yet now each low rumble felt like a violent attack on his mind and heart. But the king didn’t shed a single tear as he watched birds scatter into the sky, his hands didn’t twitch nor grasp. Lambert faced the sky as if bidding her soul goodbye from his own prison, getting up and slowly making his way towards the bed with quiet steps and a hollowing feeling in his chest, but shoulders held square and his gaze, although tired, still grasping onto meaning. The warmth in his arms was more than enough to remind him that he couldn’t fall to despair, though in this case it was for a much more selfish reason.

The Kingdom depended on him, of course. He’d see this plague through for its sake, but his will to fight for the cure lay within the infant in his arms.

The baby was placed on his back against the soft mattress as Lambert laid right next to him, one hand supporting his own head and the other holding onto a hand much smaller than his’, as azure pools watched over the young one sleep peacefully. Dimitri was too young to understand the world, too young to even understand who or what he was, but Lambert wondered if something in him knew that his mother was gone. He wondered if her spirit had given him a little kiss on the head just before walking into the Goddess’ arms. He hoped that she did.

“Mitya.” The king’s voice was but a whisper, not wishing to wake up the baby- and not wishing to find out if his voice would break if he were to speak any louder. “It’s just us now.”

Actually saying it made his throat close up as he stared reality in the eye, but he swallowed it down and kept his composure. “...I hope this pain doesn’t find you once you’re older. And yet, I hope you are able to remember her in some shape or form.” He knew he wouldn’t. Dimitri was too young for that, but he could only cope with grief by holding onto empty hopes. “At least remember that she loved you, and that she fought through blood and tears to bring you to this world. She never gave up on you.” Lambert refused to believe the medics when they stated that her body had given up- it hadn’t. She fought her battle, and even if she lost it wasn’t cheap nor easy. Lambert refused to have his son grow up thinking his mother had simply given up on fighting the disease.

Iron filled his mouth as Lambert bit his lip, him fighting a different type of battle now- one against his own self and his own tears. It was useless to self commiserate and he had been raised to refuse that kind of behavior, but it sat there as a reminder of everything he had faced so far.

Being born as a necessary resource rather than a product of love, being taught the art of blades before he had gotten to draw his first smiley sun on a paper sheet with crayons. A childhood spent behind fortified walls, groomed from boy to weapon as the Kingdom vibrated and sang prayers of gratitude to the skies the day his crest was revealed. Being resented by his only brother for something he could never even hope to change and getting showered with false love for the same reason. Being treated well by his father and mother yet never feeling like he could ever count on them for anything outside of his duties. Pushed into a throne before he had even memorized the vows for the coronation, when the crown still sagged a slight bit when placed in his head.

Forced to fit a mold that wasn’t real, seen as someone who wasn’t real, needing to act like something that wasn’t real- but that was expected, wished for, dreamed of.

Being king and yet being swiftly ignored and overlooked by everyone around him, as he soon found out that the weight of his word came at others’ convenience and that the world was much more willing to listen to the claims of a man brandishing a blade rather than extending a hand in compassion.

“Mitya, I…” The pressure of his clenched teeth was almost dizzying, but he didn’t stop. Not when it was the only thing keeping his tears from falling on that baby boy’s cheek. He swallowed down once more, took in a shaky deep breath, and stared down at the sleeping face of his son. “...I won’t leave it up to the Goddess to decide your fate. I refuse to leave it in her hands.” Her goodwill too, came at her own convenience. Lambert refused to gamble his only son’s fate on that. 

Another deep breath. “I breathe for Faerghus, but my heart beats for you alone. It ends at that.” Because he knew the day he died, Faerghus wouldn’t remember him. It would remember his crown and his armor, but not the man behind them. “...yet, forgive me. That you had to be placed on a lone road with a father who still cannot even cut his own hair without help. Forgive me, Mitya.” I’m too young for this. I don’t know what to do. No one ever taught me how to face fatherhood alone.

I don't want him to end up like me.

“I’ll raise you myself, in her honor-” Another shaky breath, though one that more closely resembles a suppressed sob. “-and so that you shall never live the life that I lived. I promise you.”

Gently pressing his forehead against the sleeping baby’s, Lambert finally allowed himself to cry silently. “Please, live as yourself. Be yourself and love yourself, my child.”

“You are more than just a jewel on a crown, and much more than any weapon. Know that I will love you unconditionally for eternity and beyond."

____

“Avenge us! Those who killed us…tear them apart! Destroy them all!”

The world went black and the star was extinguished. In a limbo, wedged between the folds of time, yet still holding onto the faintest thread of consciousness. It lasted merely seconds as the brain can only live for so long after losing its blood flow, but it was enough for a single, chilling thought to overstay its welcome- as if catching a glimpse of something seconds before a door is closed.

I wielded my son like a weapon.

[gladdygirl18]

Laughing All the Way

Happy Holidays, everyone! Surprise @sunstone-smiles! I was your Secret Santa once again for SquealingSanta2023! I cannot tell you how glad I was to get you again! You are one of my greatest friends, and I wanted to make this special. Like last year, I made it Christmas/holiday-themed. I really hope you enjoy it!

This fic contains zero spoilers, so happy reading!

Theme for this fic: One character is trying to make the other laugh/smile, and what better way than to tickle them?

Summary: Dimitri is trying to get Felix to smile since he hasn't seen it since they were kids. After asking for assistance from Sylvain, the red-haired lace-wielder has the perfect idea to get their gloomy friend to smile again.

Word Count: 2255

Felix Hugo Fraldarius is a very stoic young man; he's a Duke, for goodness sake. Those meeting him for the first time would think he was like this since he was a kid. Well, those people would be sorely mistaken. In his youth, along with Dimitri, Sylvain, Ingrid, and Glenn, Felix was a very energetic and happy kid. Every time you looked at the young nobleman, he was smiling. It warmed his father's heart to see him smile. However, after Glenn died, Felix's smile did, too. Throughout most of his preteen and teen years, Felix has never appropriately smiled. Over the years, Dimitri and some other Blue Lions would attempt to get the young nobleman to smile. They succeeded with a chuckle here and there and maybe a small grin or smirk, but never a full-blown smile. Now that the war between the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and the Adrestian Empire was over and the orchestrator of the Tragedy of Duscur was no more, the season of giving was drawing near. More than ever, Dimitri was determined to make his childhood friend smile again.

"Okay, okay, how about this one," Dimitri said with a slight chuckle, "What does Santa suffer from if he gets stuck in a chimney?"

"I don't know, what?" Felix asked, annoyance tainting his words.

"Claus-trophobia!"

Dimitri giggled at the joke, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder for support. The young king looked at the kingdom's shield to see his normal, deadpan expression.

"Oh, come on!" Dimitri said, "Not even a chuckle? That was so funny!"

"It was, but the person who told it isn't." Felix said, his words colder than ice.

Dimitri tried not to take offense to the comment, but that hurt weighed heavy on the chest. The holiday season was here, and the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was blessed with a layer of snow. Snow covered every nook and cranny from the castle to the town. In that same breath, the kingdom was preparing for its annual Christmas tree lighting and party. Dimitri had extended the invitation to Claude and the other members of the Golden Deer, but they respectfully declined since they still had to tie up some loose ends on their part. While some of the Blue Lions were assisting the townsfolk in setting up the town for the party and tree lighting, Dimitri tried to get Felix to smile by telling some jokes, but it wasn't working.

"Come on, Felix," Dimitri said, "Just smile. It's the holidays,"

"Why should that be my reason to smile?" Felix asked, his tone a tad cold.

Dimitri breathed a heavy sigh, seeing his breath appear and disappear into the chilly air. The young king patted the duke's shoulder before walking away from him, defeated. After passing by some townsfolk, he saw Sylvain helping some people set up a stall filled with cookies and pastries.

"Sylvain." Dimitri called out.

The young lance-wielder perked up and smiled when he saw the king.

"Your Majesty," Sylvain said, placing down the decoration box, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Please, Sylvain," Dimitri said, shaking his head, "You know how I feel about you calling me that,"

"Haha, I know; I'm only teasing."

"You're lucky I do."

Sylvain chuckled before handing off the decoration box to one of the knights.

"So, what's up, Dimitri?" Sylvain asked.

"It's Felix," Dimitri sighed, "I've tried to get him to smile, but nothing has worked. I haven't seen his smile since we were kids; I miss it, and it's the holiday season, so he should be smiling."

Sylvain hummed in thought as he paced in front of the young king.

"What have you tried so far?" Sylvain asked, crossing his arms.

"All I've been doing was telling him Christmas-themed jokes." Dimitri said.

"Yeah, jokes don't work on him anymore."

Dimitri groaned in defeat as he leaned against the stall.

"I just want to bring his spirits up for the holidays," Dimitri confessed, "Is that so wrong?"

"Not at all," Sylvain said, placing a hand on the king's shoulder, "Your actions are very commendable, just... you need a better approach when making Felix smile."

Dimitri nodded as the pieces gradually came together. The young king turned to the redhead with a knowing look.

"You say as if you know how to get Felix to smile." Dimitri said.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." Sylvain said with a wink.

Dimitri's eyes widened, as well as his smile.

"Please, you must help me to get Felix to smile!" Dimitri half-begged.

"Haha, alright, alright," Sylvain chuckled, "It's been a while, so I don't know how effective it'll be or if it'll work at all."

"I'll take any suggestion and assistance at this point."

Sylvain nodded with a smile.

"Just leave it to me, Dima," Sylvain said, "So, where's the Scrouge?"

Dimitri smiled and gestured for the redhead to follow. After walking through the town, the two men reached the castle's courtyard to see Felix assisting some knights in decorating the small area.

"Just follow my lead," Sylvain whispered, "Hey! Felix!"

The young duke turned around and let out an annoyed sigh.

"What do you want, Sylvain?" Felix asked.

"Geez, heck of a greeting," Sylvain said, "But to answer your question, I want you to smile."

Felix scoffed and shook his head.

"The boar already tried, alright? I don't need another one attempting the same thing." Felix said.

"Ah, but you see, where one fails, another succeeds," Sylvain said, waltzing over to the duke, "And I will be the one who succeeds."

Felix rolled his eyes and turned his back to Sylvain.

"Do your worst," Felix said, "I'm not smil-IHING!"

The young duke let out a small squeal when he felt something poke his side. Felix whipped around to see Sylvain grinning like an imp.

"Sylvain," Felix began, "Don't. You. Dare..."

"Say, Felix," Sylvain said, stepping close to the young duke, "Do you remember the method I used to make you smile?"

Felix growled under his breath as he backed away from the lance-wielder. Dimitri analyzed the situation before a slight, sinister grin spread across his face when he caught on. Without warning, the young king tackled the duke into the snow, wrestling to keep him pinned.

"What the hell, boar!?" Felix questioned, "Did your brain freeze over or something? Get off me!"

"Now, now, Felix," Dimitri said, "Is that any way to talk to a friend? More so, your king?" Sylvain asked, kneeling beside him.

The young duke growled as he struggled to escape the young king's grip. When he saw Sylvain's approaching wiggling fingers, Felix's struggling became a bit more violent.

"Sylvain, get your hands away from me!" Felix said.

"Now, that scowl won't do," Sylvain said, "We need you smiling!"

When the redhead said that, he pounced, skittering his fingers up and down the young duke's sides. Felix inhaled sharply before biting his lip, stopping the giggles that bubbled in his throat.

"S-Sylvain, s-stohohop..." Felix said, letting a giggle slip.

"Was that a giggle I heard?" Dimitri asked.

"N-No, it wahahasn't."

"The lies we tell," Sylvain said, "Well, you were always a terrible liar, Felix."

Felix was cracking bit by bit, giggles occasionally slipping through his pursed lips.

"Ugh, this is getting us nowhere," Sylvain said, pulling away, "Time to get serious."

Felix breathed out a sigh of relief when the redhead stopped. However, his moment of breath was short-lived. The young duke let out an unmanly squeak when he felt something poke all over his ribs, causing Felix to exhale adorable giggles.

"Sylvaahahahain! Nohohoho!" Felix giggled, "You are suhuhuhuch a jeheheherk!"

"There's that smile!" Sylvain exclaimed, "Hey, Dimitri, try out one of your jokes again; I guarantee Felix will laugh at 'em."

The redhead gave the young king a knowing look and a wink, to which Dimitri returned.

"Alright, let's see," Dimitri said, pretending to think, "What is it called when a snowman has a temper tantrum?"

"I don't knohohohohohow!" Felix giggled.

"A meltdown!"

When Sylvain pinched one of Felix's middle ribs, the young duke squealed as his giggles went up an octave.

"Goodness, Felix. I knew my jokes were good, but I didn't think they were that good." Dimitri joked.

"Shuhuhuhut uhuhup, bohohohoar!" Felix cried, "Sylvahahahain, stahahahap! This isn't fuhuhuhunny anymohohohohore!"

"Really, because it seems like you're just finding everything funny at this point," Sylvain said, "I mean, I can say something stupid, like, I saw two black birds kissing in a tree. Guess they were under a mistle-crow."

Felix tried to purse his lips together, but when Sylvain pinched that one middle rib, Felix lost all composure and snorted before giggling again, causing the other two to join in.

"Oh, man, that was great!" Sylvain laughed.

"Sylvain's funny, but I didn't think he'd be able to accomplish such a feat as that!" Dimitri laughed.

When Felix felt the young king's grip loosen, he took a gamble to wriggle free. Dimitri quickly gained his composure before strengthening his grip once more.

"I don't think so, Felix," Dimitri said, "I've been wanting to see your smile all day; I'm going to enjoy this,"

"Claude's definitely rubbing off on you," Sylvain commented, "Not in a million years would I ever hear you say something like that."

"Well, it's true, is it not?"

Sylvain fondly shook his head as he glanced back at the giggling duke, his heels scrapping at the snow beneath him.

"Sylvahahain, enohohohough!" Felix cried, "Let me gohohohoho, you bohohohoar!"

"Maybe... if you call me by my actual name," Dimitri said, "Then I'll consider letting you go!"

"Oh, yohohohou jeheheherk!"

"What was that?" Sylvain asked.

When Sylvain heard this, his hands dropped to the duke's waist, causing Felix to give a small buck and a light squeal.

"Sylvahahahahain! Nahahahat thehehehere!" Felix cried, "Hahahahehehehe! Enohohohough!"

"That's no way to speak to your king, Felix," Dimitri said, "Instead of calling me boar, please, call me by my actual name."

"Over my dehehehehead bohohohody!"

Sylvain sighed before pulling away.

"Well, I've done all I could do," Sylvain said, "I mean, I could get him to break by tickling in one spot, but why don't you do it, Your Majesty?"

Sylvain grinned at Dimitri, who gave him a quizzical look.

"And what spot would that be, Sylvain?" Dimitri asked.

Sylvain smiled as he leaned over to whisper in the king's ear. The sinister grin that spread across Dimitri's face could put fear in Claude. When Dimitri glanced down at Felix, the young duke shuddered with a nervous giggle.

"H-Hey, w-wehehe... can talk about thihihis..." Felix giggled through his pants.

Dimitri hummed in thought as he and Sylvain prepped Felix. Now, Sylvain had Felix's hands pinned above his head while Dimitri rested his hands on the duke's sides.

"Sorry, but no," Dimitri said, feigning regret, "I'd much prefer it if you laughed."

Before he could protest, Felix erupted into deep, adorable laughter as the young king scribbled under his arms.

"AAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHA!" Felix laughed, "YOU BOHOHOHOHOHOAR! STAHAHAAAAP!"

"That's not his name, Felix," Sylvain said, "You know how to make this stop,"

"YOU SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP! AND LEHEHEHEHET ME GOHOHOHOHO!"

"Which do you want me to do, Your Grace? I'm only capable of doing one thing."

Felix let out a cackle as he thrashed in Sylvain's grip. Dimitri found himself smiling at the young duke's face. Felix never looked happier, his cheeks a similar tint of red matching Sylvain's hair, tears of mirth dotting the corners of his eyes; Dimitri thought he'd never see Felix look this happy again after losing his brother.

"COME OHOHOHOHON!" Felix laughed, "PLEHEHEHASE! I CAHAHAHAN'T! HAHAHAHAAAHEHEHE!"

"Just say His Majesty's name, and I'll let you go." Sylvain said.

Felix growled through his laughter, but when Dimitri hit a sensitive spot, Felix cracked.

"DIMITRIHIHIHIHHI! PLEHEHEHEASE!" Felix cried, "IT TIHIHIHIHICKLEHEHEHES! HEHEHEAHAHAHA! DIMAHAHAHAAA!"

When Dimitri heard his childhood nickname, the young king chuckled and stopped the tickling, leaving the young king breathless, his shallow breath visible in the chilly air.

"Felix, do you know what you called Dimitri?" Sylvain asked, releasing the other.

"What...?" Felix asked through his pants.

"You called him Dima."

Felix's eyes widened before he turned to the young king to see him smiling and nodding. The young duke's blush returned, but it was redder.

"I-I didn't mean to," Felix said, "It just slipped and-"

Before Felix could say anything more, Dimitri embraced him tightly.

"You don't have to explain yourself, my friend," Dimitri said, "All I have ever wanted from this was to see you smiling again, but I guess I got more than I had originally intended."

Felix felt his body relax in his king's embrace. When Felix felt tears well in his eyes, he returned the hug with a smile.

"I love you, you boar." Felix said.

Dimitri felt tears of his own well in his eyes as he embraced Felix tighter. Sylvain smiled and sighed with contentment.

"Guess my work here is done." Sylvain said, standing up.

Before the redhead could walk away, Felix grabbed his arm and pulled him into the embrace.

"You, too, dunce." Felix said lovingly.

Sylvain smiled and embraced his childhood friends, his brothers in arms. The three young men stayed like this for many minutes before getting up and continuing to assist the townsfolk with the party and tree lighting. Every so often, Dimitri would glance at Felix and see the young duke smiling and laughing without a care in the world like he did when he was a young boy.

"There's that smile I've missed so much..." Dimitri said.

[reunionatdawn]

My Analysis of the Best Paired Endings in 3H (Part 18: AM Ingrid/Ashe)

Ingrid: …My father, too, brought up marriage proposals to ensure the family's survival numerous times. I had a fiancé when I was a child… But he passed away at a young age… Mercedes: If that fiancé were still alive… Would you have married him? Ingrid: Well… who knows? I can't even imagine it myself. But I do know that I admired him. A proud way of life as a knight serving the king. Even now, I've always wanted to be a knight like him. I want to live as a knight, not as a tool for the family's survival. Regardless of what my father says.

Ingrid was also a victim of Faerghus's patriarchal culture. She was sold by her father and engaged to Glenn the same year she was born in order to pass on her Crest. There's no question that she loved her fiancé dearly, but I suspect that her love was more like that of a sister toward a brother rather than actual romantic love. She wasn't sure if she would have married him if he had survived.

The Crest of Daphnel is associated with The Chariot arcana. The message is one of maintaining focus and confidence in the pursuit of your goals. It suggests that your strength and commitment is being tested by the universe, so don't give up or look for shortcuts. It also signifies the need to take action and move forward. Finally, it can represent a need to control your own destiny.

Dorothea: I could never hand over my lovely Ingrid to some jerk who only wants her for her Crest. Ingrid: Oh? Do I belong to you now, rather than to myself?

Ingrid's paralogue was about her and Dorothea's contrasting views of marriage. Ingrid was not looking for a provider. Even though she needed the funds, she wanted to belong to herself. Not her father, not her brothers, not a husband. She didn't want to marry a man she wasn't in love with for a dowry. Knighthood was the only way she could pledge her life to a man she chose for herself.

Ingrid: [W]e hardly ever played together. The age gap was just too great. My eldest brother in particular was incredibly strict with me. Whenever I would try to go horseback riding through the hills, he would say… "How dare you do something so dangerous! What if something happened to you?!" What's worse, my father agreed with him. It kept me from getting out on too many adventures as a child. Thinking back on it, I understand their concern. I was the only one in the family to bear a Crest, after all.

Ingrid was also not looking for a protector. She wanted to live an active adventurous lifestyle protecting those she cared for. Knighthood was also a way for her to hold onto her childhood happiness. A time where she was truly free.

Felix: House Fraldarius has been the king's lance and shield for generations. Ever since the time of Kyphon, sworn friend of the great King Loog. At times we've been sent to defeat the crown's enemies. At others, we've held back to defend the throne. I admit the style has its uses, idiotic history of blind faith aside.

Ingrid dreamt of obtaining knighthood and defending the king ever since she was a little girl. Growing up, she was obsessed with the book Sword of Kyphon which was about Loog's "sworn friend". The Aegis Shield is based on Greek Mythology. Rodrigue's middle name is "Achille". The writers were probably inspired by Achilles from the Iliad.

Ingrid: [Kyphon] was the very picture of the perfect knight. In my opinion, the best chapter is right around the middle of the book… Ashe: Ah, the part about the War of the Eagle and Lion? That's my favorite part! "In a flash, Kyphon's sword flew from its scabbard. The knight parried the assassin's blade mere inches from the spine of his king."

If so, Kyphon probably had feelings for Loog beyond just friendship. That may be why Ingrid identified with him. And it's also why she and Rodrigue (though he is the topic for a different post) idealized a knight's death so much. Ingrid didn't just want to serve her country. She wanted to serve as the lance and shield to a man she was in love with. And she was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for him.

Ingrid: I want to serve as a knight and protect my homeland. I know this, through and through. It has been my truth for as long as I can remember. However, I feel that I should choose a path that would benefit my father. I was raised by him in a happy home, never wanting for anything, despite my family's meager finances. I owe it to him to choose a path he'd approve of.

AM!Ingrid was willing to completely give up on her dream and choose a path that would make her father happy. But she has an A+ Support conversation with Seteth that is exclusive to AM. He encourages her to talk with her father and he will respect her wishes.

Ingrid: But even if I do become a knight, I feel an unease deep within me. I fear I will never escape this guilt I carry. That I have shunned my duty as a noble. Byleth: Could you not find a way to do both? Ingrid: To follow both my dream and my duty? I…I had never considered that as an option. Perhaps there is a way.

The idea that she could be a wife and a knight never seemed to occur to her until Byleth suggested it. But that did seem to be the solution to her problems. She becomes a knight in every one of her AM endings, except when paired with Felix or Sylvain.

Ingrid: Oh, you mean the makeup? That's exaggerated. I just learned a bit from Annette. It's still trial and error… Hey Sylvain, do you think I've changed somehow?

In Ingrid's A+ Support with Sylvain, she was wearing makeup before heading to the training grounds. She didn't necessarily dislike looking her best, but she resented the social pressure to pretty herself up for men to "pounce" on. So, the fact that she was dolled up was uncharacteristic for her.

Sylvain: No, I'm not really flustered… I just got a little curious about the reason, is all. Ingrid: …The reason for the makeup, huh. What do you think it is? Sylvain: Well… Is it because of a guy? If we're talking about someone you might like, going by your past tendencies… Felix… No, His Highness also has a chance.

Sylvain was very flustered, suspecting it must be for a guy. His first assumption is Felix, due to her past history with Glenn. But Dimitri was another possibility.

Sylvain: It might also be because of the knights… Oh, wait, me!? Ingrid: I'll hit you. Sylvain: W-wait, I was just kidding! I'm against violence! Being too rough ruins a beauty, you know! ………… Uh, well. I-I mean, when I say "beauty," I'm not talking about flirting or anything, yeah! Ingrid: …Beauty, huh. Hehe.

He also suspected it might be for him, but Ingrid shut that down pretty fast. She was flattered by his compliment, but it was left very ambiguous whether she was wearing the makeup for him or not.

Ingrid: Usually, I wore men's clothing, ran around in the mountains with male friends, and played around. And then… After my fiancé's death, I definitely wanted to avoid anything feminine. Thinking, "There's no need to show it to him," and… I've been bound by something like guilt for a long time.

In the Japanese version of the Ingrid/Sylvain A+ Support, Ingrid mentioned that Annette had been helping her practice her makeup. Her Support with Annette was about how she felt guilty for looking feminine. The fact that she had finally changed her appearance implied that she was ready to move on from Glenn. So, I do believe that Sylvain was right, and she was wearing the makeup for a guy.

Dimitri: You displayed unwavering, excellent spear skills. Was there indeed some change in your state of mind? Ingrid: ...As I mentioned before, thanks to Your Highness, I can move forward.

In her A-Support with Dimitri, she said that she could finally move on from Glenn's death because of him. It even took place at the training grounds, the place she was headed to in her A+ Support with Sylvain.

Dimitri: Ah, yes, that's right. …What did that mean exactly? Ingrid: …I finally managed to accept the truth I've been avoiding for so long. Glenn must have felt deep regret. Yet, I myself didn't want to acknowledge it. I've been twisting his true nature, imposing my ideals, and averting my gaze… Dimitri: …I see.

The tagline for the game was, "Sweet memories twisted by time's cruel hand". Ingrid coped with grief by romanticizing the truth. She had to believe that Glenn died a picture-perfect death like the ones in her childhood storybooks, because the truth was just too horrible. Her Support chain with Dimitri was about realizing that she was projecting her own feelings onto Glenn.

Ingrid: …Your Highness. I won't sacrifice my life for anyone else. But, would you allow me to live for someone else, Your Highness? Not in the sense of throwing away my life—I want to dedicate my life to you. Dimitri: ...Hold on. How should I interpret that? Ingrid: …? However you please, Your Highness. Dimitri: Haha… "However I please," huh. …You win. Ingrid. Once this battle is over, I want you to… As a knight, I want you to support me. …I've been meaning to say that for a while now. We seem to get along well. Ingrid: …As a knight? Uh, um, no! It's nothing! Of course, even without being told, I was planning to fight for you… and, um, for my country.

Ingrid's offer to pledge her life to Dimitri as a knight was essentially a marriage proposal as well. She won't even make a wish with Byleth at the Goddess Tower. And this is actually the ONLY A-Support where her feelings are unambiguously romantic. She dreamt of being a knight to be close to him. If she married Dimitri, she knew she could fulfill both her dream and her duty to her father. Therefore, if you're playing AM, I believe that Ingrid was wearing the makeup for Dimitri.

While Ingrid's feelings were very clear, Dimitri's response to her "proposal" is a lot more ambiguous. He did not ask her to be his wife like she was hoping, only to become his knight. It could be interpreted as him just being shy. Or it could be interpreted as an awkward rejection. Based on Ingrid's sad expression, it did seem like she interpreted his response as him letting her down gently.

Felix: So… He's finally shown his true face. The same Dimitri I've seen once before—a beast who loves spilling blood. Ingrid: You're wrong! I'm sure of it. There has to be an explanation…

Ingrid probably did the same to Dimitri as she did to Glenn. She was holding onto an idealistic childhood fantasy and could only see him as he was when they were kids, even though he had changed. She was in complete denial of his boar side. Dimitri was willing to throw away his childhood friends' lives at Gronder Field, including hers. He did turn his life around thanks to Byleth, but it wasn't surprising to me that he didn't feel comfortable accepting her marriage proposal.

Dimitri: If you're willing, would you like to go together? Of course, if you still feel hesitant, I won't force you… Ingrid: …No! Please, let me accompany you. It's embarrassing, but I probably would have hesitated to go alone. But with you… I feel like I can take a step forward without fear. Dimitri: I see. Alright, let's not waste any time. Allow me to treat you today, Ingrid.

In Hopes, Dimitri was able to help Ingrid face the reality of Glenn's death sooner and move forward. We even learn that she wanted to go to the castle to support him after the Tragedy of Duscur, but her father wouldn't let her. Dimitri always did want a girlfriend and he actually seemed very interested in Ingrid in Hopes. She gladly accepted when he offered to treat her to a meal.

Sylvain: Alright, then. Let me help you out… let's have a meal. My treat, miss. Ingrid: Wait a minute. Are you trying to flirt with me? I thought you'd matured. Sylvain: Oh, come on… I'm just trying to be thoughtful. Don't turn down a kind gesture, or you'll regret it. Ingrid: …I suppose you're right. Thank you for your consideration, Sylvain.

It's worth noting that in their Hopes A-Support, Sylvain also offered to treat her to a meal. She was more than happy to eat on his coin, but only if it's not a date. While Sylvain is often viewed as the "canon" love interest for Ingrid, I didn't really see any evidence that her love for him was anything other than sisterly. She was so fed up with his sexism that she took her annoyance with him out on Claude.

They made the Ingrid/Sylvain A+ ambiguous enough for you to view Sylvain as her love interest if you want. But they also left it open for Dimitri and there's more evidence that he was the one Ingrid had romantic feelings for, even if she never thought marrying the king was possible. I think that in the Hopes timeline, they probably would have ended up together. But in Houses, Dimitri was just too different.

Ingrid: As you said, situations change whether we like it or not… Nobody can stay the same. Of course, neither you nor I are exceptions… It's just that, I feel a little lonely because of it.

In VW, Dimitri is assumed to be dead. However, a recruited Ingrid still runs away from home in order to become a knight. So, her childhood dream was not solely related to her feelings for Dimitri. She wanted to go back to the past.

Ingrid: My friends and I used to explore the countryside together when we were young. I dearly miss those days.

Ingrid was a tomboy who loved playing outside, getting dirty, and going on adventures. In Hopes, her central conflict was not just about marriage but also about the fact that she was inevitably going to lead House Galatea. She hated desk work and was dreading the changes that would inevitably come along with adulthood and becoming a count, doing mountains of paperwork.

Ingrid: Knights, I suppose. I do what I can to live like one. And I hope to die like one too…when the time comes.

If Shez takes Ingrid out on an expedition and asks her what she likes, her response is quite disturbing. Even though she had given up on her dream, she said that she was still planning to die like a knight, implying that she was hoping to die during the war. And in SB, she dies like a true knight, just as she hoped.

Dimitri: At the Tragedy of Duscur, I saw countless corpses. Of course, I saw his too…Glenn's. Ingrid, I doubt you would have been able to see him. They were unable to bring his body back, after all. He must have died an agonizing death, full of pain and regret. That is what I saw in his face. Ingrid: … Dimitri: In that wasteland, there were no beautiful, proud deaths that could have been written about in heroic tales. Not one. I do not want you to die a death like that. Not even for the sake of loyalty or duty.

Glenn was Dimitri's best friend and even he died with a heavy heart. But Ingrid actually was content to die protecting Dimitri. And I'm sure her romantic feelings for her king played a role. Symbolically, she dies at the Silver Maiden (named after a pure maiden that is hard to penetrate). But I cannot help but suspect that her romanticization of a knight's death was also influenced by the fact that she was not looking forward to her future as a tradwife and Count Galatea.

Gilbert: Once you don the armor, raise your shield, and level your lance… Why? What is it you wish to protect? Ashe: Protect? I, um… Well, whatever needs protecting, right? Gilbert: You must know exactly what you protect before you become a knight.

Like Ingrid, it was Ashe's dream to become a knight. He wanted to be like his adoptive father Lonato, who he thought was the very model of chivalry. And his character arc was about how to come to terms with Lonato's death.

Ashe: I don't think that friend who protected you threw his life away because he was a knight. He just wanted to save his best friend. Dimitri: Even if it meant destroying futures that might have come to pass had he but lived? Ashe: Look, I don't know if what he did was right. So if you're asking me not to throw my life away, I promise that I won't. But I don't think it's wrong to fight to the end for someone that you love.

Ashe gets some pretty interesting development in Hopes. He becomes a knight to House Blaiddyd, just like in his AM paired ending with Ingrid (it's actually the only ending where he becomes a royal knight). He has a rather naive and rosy view of chivalry, while Dimitri has a more cynical view. Ashe agrees with him, but he does respect the idea of fighting to the end for someone he loves.

Ashe: I'm glad Lonato made it out safely, but… But we killed Ingrid. I can't ever go back, can I? There's no place left for me in Faerghus. Whatever part of me that was a knight is dead.

And he clearly needs that kind of personal motivation. Outside of AG, Ashe is one of the only Lions who has the option to defect from Faerghus. In SB, he wanted to protect Lonato. But his primary motivation in GW was to save his own life. Becoming a knight was one thing, but it turns out living up the ideal was a lot harder. Ingrid is the one who takes his betrayal the most personally. And when she is killed, the part of Ashe that was a knight dies along with her.

Gilbert: Lord Lonato took up his sword for his son. Even if that meant turning his back on the goddess… As a father, I cannot condemn Lord Lonato for raising an army. Yet, perhaps he too lost sight of what should be protected. Just as I did. Ashe: I don't understand what you mean. What should Lonato have protected? Gilbert: You, Ashe. Because you are also his son. Ashe: You're right… I think I know what I need to protect now.

Ingrid didn't just want to follow orders. She wanted to protect those she loved. And Gilbert told Ashe that to he needed to know exactly what he was protecting when he became a knight. He needed something personal; the way Gilbert had his family. Ashe wanted Lonato to live on through him.

Ashe: Um, anyway, I just… wanted you to smile. Ingrid: …Thank you, Ashe. You're encouraging me. Certainly, living as a knight may not be an easy path. .…We may be forced to live while bearing great pain and regret. But… I want to continue pursuing that dream. Talking with you makes me feel that way. Besides, giving up easily isn't like me at all.

And that's what A-Support with Ingrid was about. Lonato changed Ashe's life with a book. And Ingrid was encouraged to carry on her dream and Glenn's legacy thanks to the book Ashe gifted her. I also think he'd be able to help her move on from Dimitri, too. That's why I think these two characters complement each other's character arcs the best and are indispensable to each other as knights.

Ingrid & Ashe After the war, with a new king ascending the throne of Faerghus, Ingrid left House Galatea and joined the royal capital, Fhirdiad, to serve the royal family as a knight. Likewise, Ashe departed from his homeland of Gaspard and chose the path to become a knight of the royal family. Devoted to the future of the Kingdom, they took on any duty to protect the king. Eventually, they were praised as the "Twin Pillars of Knights" and left their mark in many tales of chivalry. In some stories, they are depicted as a loving couple. While the truth remains unknown, it is certain that they fought together until the end of their lives and were each other's inseparable companions.

In Ingrid's ending with Ashe, she lives out her childhood dream. She and Ashe even get a cool nickname similar to the Ferdibert ending. Ashe is known for his boundless courage and devotion. He is the picture-perfect knight from the story books, completely different from the cowardice he displayed in Hopes.

While the Japanese version does not mention marriage, it is implied that Ingrid and Ashe spent their loves together as lovers. Still, it is left up to interpretation. Outside AM, they explicitly fall in love and get married, so I have no reason to believe they weren't lovers in AM as well. But the point is that Ingrid went down in history for her own accomplishments, not just as someone's wife.

[damnilovefaerghus]

With spring dawning and the war with the Empire about to resume, Shez is summoned to Western Faerghus by Rodrigue for a new mission. And although he's come to terms with his feelings after their last conversation, he still finds himself grappling with how he ought to act - especially as Rodrigue makes an unexpected request of him.

Excerpt

As if realizing the mood had changed, Rodrigue shook his head again, his expression turning abashed. "Forgive me. As my son says, I do tend to lecture on—" "No, that's..." Shez grimaced. "That's really rough. I didn't realize." "You needn't be so concerned—" "No, I mean— staying by yourself all winter, only talking to a bunch of people who hate you for killing their family, even if their family were bastards... didn't you do that too in Duscur? And you didn't even have Dedue this time - you sure you're okay?"

[silversdragonemporium]

WIP Wednesday post

To Crown Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, the Blood of King Loog and true heir of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus,

Words fail to describe the joy that my son’s letter gave me. For all these years, I have long prayed to Saint Seiros to keep you safe. Today, I vow to spend the rest of my life giving her my thanks for not only keeping you safe, but also your fianceé, the Lady Byleth Eisner. 

I am proud to write that once the traitorous imperial usurpers sought to steal your birthright, the Shield of Faerghus never bowed to that puppet the Empire calls Duchess. Alas, this loyalty has not come without consequence! After the usurpation, the regent “invited” the Imperial Army to set up a base in Fhirdiad. Ever since then they have been a constant thorn at our side. Last year, they even managed to seize Lord Keaton’s castle at Wyrmlow. But the spring floods washed them out soon enough. 

I will immediately rally my troops to your cause, my prince. However, I’m afraid that I cannot spare to leave my territory and my people for too long. I propose that we meet up in Ailell, the Vally of Torment and handle the exchange there. I hope you see you there within a moon’s turn.

May the Goddess Sothis guide you to victory,

Lord Rodrigue Fraldarius, Shield of Faerghus.

“Why did you have to write to him?” Dimitri seethed, his eye glaring right at Felix.

“If you had come to the war council meeting, you would have been able to vote against revealing your presence to our allies,” Felix said, utterly undaunted by his dark glare. “If you don’t come to the council meetings, you don’t get to vote. As simple as that.”

Dimitri looked like he was about to spear Felix with the quill that was on the table. To prevent any misfortune, Byleth cleared her throat.

“Duke Fraldarius is a key ally,” she said in a level voice. “He has many men at his disposal, and access to some of the most fertile lands in Faerghus. We cannot hope to win against the Empire without his aid.”

“Then just call on Judith von Daphnel!” Dimitri countered. “Her forces are fresh, she has an even better territory to get food and supplies from and the reinforcement route would be the same!”

[feel-ix]

Acquiesce (10)

Felix Hugo Fraldarius x F!Shez

The group share a meal around a campfire

Things at camp had been following a rhythm lately, but that didn't take away the threat of ongoing battles and bloodshed looming over every member of the army. This was something everyone was very aware of and people reacted to it in different ways: some soldiers dealt with it with honesty, never holding back what they thought or felt about their comrades; others became overly wary, their instinct of self preservation kicking in strong and causing them to be cautious at all times; others became too reckless, believing that life was short and they should live it to the fullest. No one would bat en eye if people around them changed their behavior overnight, this was a war after all.

Among the soldiers that recognized the threat of war was Rodrigue, the former duke Fraldarius, the Shield of Faerghus, a fatherly figure for the young King and respected by many, except perhaps his own son. The death of his eldest son, Glenn, weighed heavily on the Fraldarius family, causing a sudden change in dynamics and responsibilities among the rest of the family. Most importantly, it ruptured the relationship between Felix and Rodrigue as soon as horrible words left his lips in a moment of shock and grief. Rodrigue desperately wanted to mend his relationship with Felix, having no hope to ever fully repair it. After all, it had been years since Glenn died, years since Felix changed as a person- changing his beliefs and opinions, years since he hardened his exterior under the pressure of becoming the heir to his house.

Because of this, Rodrigue took every opportunity he had to try and express his regret to his youngest son, even if it made him look like an overbearing parent chasing Felix around camp. One day he might not return from battle and his apology would die on his lips, Rodrigue did not want that. Things with Felix had been improving slowly since the former duke joined the war effort in the front lines, specially since Felix was able to get some useful tips on managing Fraldarius lands from his father, but that wasn't enough.

Rodrigue knew Shez and Sylvain left on a mission earlier which meant his son was either in the training grounds or in his tent, he was lucky the found him in the latter. Felix's tent was a bit larger than the average soldier's, he kept his belongings somewhat organized and neat. His bed was haphazardly made, as if he simply pulled the covers back up and smoothed most of it out, there were swords and whetstones on top of a drawer and the room smelled vaguely like paper and leather- not unpleasant, just... manly. Felix was sitting by the small desk on the side of the room, a stack of papers presumably related to his duties as Duke Fraldarius sat on the further side of the desk as he read a smaller pile directly in front of him. Felix's posture was tense, his back was not overly hunched and his grip on the paper was not rough, but his leg bounced under the desk next to a half carved sword from a piece of wood. Noticing his father's presence, Felix put the papers down and stood up, looking at him expectantly.

Rodrigue took in a sharp breath before speaking, "We need to talk, Felix."

"Can we make this quick? I'm busy," Felix replied almost immediately, exhaustion from a long day of reviewing documents clear on his face.

Air in the tent suddenly felt heavy and a silent pause settled before Rodrigue said his next words, "I wanted to apologize for what I said about Glenn..."

...

The conversation with his father couldn't have taken more than 10 minutes, but it's impact lifted years worth of weight off Felix's and Rodrigue's shoulders. They could both breathe a little easier and basked in the moment as some small commotion built outside, surely the dining staff was starting preparations for supper. Given that the army had just moved locations, not all the mess hall tables were available, leaving a lot of people to find seating elsewhere in camp. Rodrigue and Felix took this as a cue to end their pleasant interaction, the former duke gave some advice about the paperwork Felix was working on before leaving his tent.

Hours later, nearly at dusk, dinner was being served and campfires were being lit to combat the nightly wind chills that were common in the region. Everyone who had gone on a mission earlier that day returned and were more than ready to nourish their tired bodies with a meal. Shez grabbed a plate and sat quietly on a bench next to a fire, there was an identical bench across from her, and two more on either side. Dimitri joined her soon after, insisting that he be treated like "everyone else" and be left to find his own seating regardless of his title as king, taking the middle of the bench across Shez. More and more people were grabbing their food and scattering around camp, the next ones to join them were Felix and Rodrigue, one sitting next to Shez and the other next to the king.

The group enjoyed some quiet chatter, mostly coming from Dimitri and Rodrigue, as they ate. Sylvain just so happened to spot his friends and decided to approach with his plate in hand. He initially approached the group with the intent of siting in one of the empty benches, but his plans changed as soon as he saw the brooding swordsman sitting next to the commander. Sylvain greeted the group in his casual airy voice, casually learning his weight on the leg closest to Felix's bench all with an innocent smile on his face. Shez immediately took the bait and scooted to the very edge of the bench, urging Felix to do so as well and before Felix knew it, Sylvain and his large physique took over a lot of the bench. Shez and Felix's arms were pressed against each other and Felix was suddenly very aware of his proximity to the commander, his right arm was warm- maybe from Shez's natural body heat but can a person really be this warm?

This left the two of them in an uncomfortable position to eat but neither Dimitri or Rodrigue said anything about Sylvain sitting there despite there being two empty benches, Felix tried to elbow him but almost risked dropping his food in the tight position he was in. And just as if the world itself could hear the sharp words on the tip of Felix's tongue, the rest of the Blue Lions took the other benches and then there really wasn't any space for Sylvain to move, a fact the young Gautier heightened by throwing a smug smirk towards his right. Felix had little choice but to be squished against Shez and be overly aware of every time she moved her arm to lift her spoon to her lips.

After a while everyone finished eating and the group was left making some conversation around the fire. It was not official but the war would be over soon if the kingdom army successfully completed their next missions, and it was very easy to daydream about the future while not being reminded of the responsibilities placed upon those born with a crest. Annette was just talking about how she enjoyed teaching magic and how she wished to be a teacher someday when Ingrid brought everyone back to their reality.

"I want to find a crop House Galatea can grow and export."

The mood in the air instantly dropped and there was a small pause before Rodrigue spoke,

"Despite the circumstances of the war, I am always impressed by the capabilities and drive of the next generation. It reassures me Faerghus is in good hands."

Ingrid gave him a grateful smile before proceeding speaking. Shez started thinking of what she would do after the war, her contract with Dimitri is only to last during the war. Would she continue being a commander, did she even want to? Shez would love to stay close to the friendships she's forged in the last two years but with most of them becoming the next heads of households, she doubted they would even have time to spend with a mercenary. Perhaps she could work for them if they needed a mercenary-

"What about you, Shez?"

All of the Blue Lion's eyes were fixed on the commander, she had spaced out while they all continued talking. Shez did not have a clear answer for herself, so she opted to reply as simply and honestly as she could with her usual flair, "I'll continue being a merc. So if you need a heavy hitter, you know who to call."

Her answer was as vague as one could muster, it didn't specify whether or not she would stay in Faerghus, she did not outright decline continuing to work for Dimitri either. Shez could feel Felix tense up on her left briefly before the conversation in the group kept going.

Felix never considered the commander might not be around after the war. All his relationships were with people guaranteed to be in his life for years solely because of their fealty to the kingdom and status as nobility, but Shez was an exception, she did not have anything tying her down to the cold lands or Faerghus and was used to a life wandering around as a mercenary. Maybe he could hire her to train Fraldarius soldiers but would that change their dynamic? Would he even have time to train with her in the south if he had to be elsewhere tending to his duties as duke?

At the end of the bench, Sylvain took notice of the internal turmoil Felix was going through, the young duke stared ahead to the fire but his eyes were not particularly focused on anything. To everyone else he seemed normal but Sylvain could tell he was thinking of something. What brought both of them back to the conversation was that dreaded topic: marriage.

"My adoptive father keeps sending me letters with proposals as of late, I really wish I could just return to the church with my mother," Mercedes looked a bit solemn as she spoke. All nobles and crest-bearers were expected from birth to keep their bloodline going and were often forced into arranged marriages that benefited their name or house. It was rare to see a marriage based on love among noble houses, those relationships were usually a luxury only commoners were allowed. The conversation sobered up for good this time, all nobles there would likely have to marry after the war: another pressure to add to the positions they would take in their own families, to have an heir.

Not much was said after Mercedes brought up marriage, Rodrigue felt he could have said something but how could he when everyone around him wore sad, understanding, pursed lips. Slowly but surely, the group started to disperse and make their way to their rooms and tents and that was the end of an otherwise joyful evening.

Felix was... conflicted. He was aware of all the duties he would one day fulfill since he was small, and even more after he became the next sion to house Fraldarius after Glenn's death, but he was always assured that people he cared for would always be nearby. It felt odd to say he was content with his life even in wartime, even if his duties as duke kept him busy, he could at least practice his swordsmanship and learn new techniques from others, he at least had a training partner that pushed him to better his craft. And that was just it, wasn't it? The only unpredictable thing around him: Shez. It had been years since he was pushed to train this hard, years since he could spar with someone over and over again and not get bored or outmatch them, and who knew when it would be the next time he would find a great sparring partner.

Felix did not know what Shez would do after the war, the most he could do was enjoy their matches and grow stronger while they could... That night, Felix carved most of the wooden sword sitting in his tent, all it was missing was the handle.

[minorcrest]

from @accrsed : there is a deep crease to her brow, a frown settled across her features as the soft glow of healing magic casts a light across the wound. her hands hover above, careful not to brush or aggravate, focusing as it steadily closes under her care── marianne remains close, however, until barely a trace remains, until she can allow her shoulders to fall and the tension drains from her alongside them. tired, weary and worried, the crease in her brow remains even as she raises her head to properly look at him ( at him, this time, not a gash or cut or scrape ) from her perch on the chair beside his. ❝ does that feel alright, sylvain? ❞ undoubtedly a healed wound will feel better than one open, yet the corners of her mouth remain oh-so-slightly downturned as she watches and waits. near-silent, as is expected, yet the urge to disturb the quiet rises unbidden. it is a strange urge, yet in times of war she has grown steadily bolder── in those peaceful days long past, never would she consider so readily giving voice to her turbulent thoughts. her hands wring together regardless of any newfound courage, her thought voiced quieter than most, more murmur than proper speech. hesitant, uncertain. dark eyes avert── she watches her hands grip the material of her skirt instead. ❝ please ... try to be more careful. i don't want to see you hurt. ❞

instinctual, habitual, whatever── he hadn't thought. he'd seen the mage approaching, hand flickering with rotten flame, and he'd simply ... moved. jumped off of josephine to reach her, shielding her with his back. he'd made a promise, after all, told her he'd be her knight / sure, sure, but he wasn't thinking about any of that. being a knight means being selfless, being a knight means protecting people; honorable and duty bound, just like faerghus trains him to be. ( just like glenn was supposed to be. ) but none of that had mattered in the moment, and frankly, if he hadn't jumped── if he was too late── what use would honor and duty be to him then?

but such thoughts are unusual, meant to be kept in the dark. he buries them deep in a well and shuts the wooden cover over them, leaves them to die in the cold.

❝ ... sorry, marianne. ❞ he hasn't been able to look her in the eye; at first, it'd been the pain, the gash deep across his back. now, it's a festering shame, the grimace on his face smoothing out into something softer. in a sense, he knows his judgement was clouded; the lance of ruin could have, would have been able to block most of the blow, have it skid and meet with ancient bone first. instead he let his armor have the full brunt of it, and the burning blow after that── if he thought he was being cooked alive in ailell, well. ❝ i didn't mean to scare you like that. i just ... hah, it'll sound stupid, but i wasn't thinking straight. ❞

( how does he explain it? he's thrown himself in front of countless blows before, some with more confidence than others; he's used to ingrid pinching his ear for it, felix's lashing words, dimitri's careful concern. but marianne, with her gentle smile she'd practiced, with her newfound, blooming confidence── he'd been scared. and he's been scared before, undoubtedly so, in the halls of gautier and in the snowy plans his brother would abandon him in, on the battlefield against monstrous creatures far bigger than him── but it was different. it was different, )

❝ when i saw him there, about to attack you, i── i knew i had to move. although, maybe i should have done it better. that thing── ❞ ── a nod towards the lance of ruin── ❝ ── has seen me through a whole lot worse, after all. ❞ sylvain cracks an empty smile as he finally turning his attention towards her, but his smile fades quickly enough. she's being earnest with him, she just healed him, peeled off his tunic from angry burns without a flinch, stayed by his side the entire time── ( he's ungrateful, ungrateful, ungrateful. he doesn't deserve any of it, ) sylvain reaches over for her hand, slowly. strains until he can loosen her grip and smooth her skirt, holding onto her fingers with his. ❝ i'm sorry. i just couldn't bear to see you hurt, either, marianne. ❞ earnest, kind marianne, with a quiet, shining soul; he'd do it again, to see her safe.

( a thought slices through him, briefly. what's the point in a world that loses someone like her? what the point in a world that lets someone like him live instead? beautiful, wonderful marianne. rotting, horrendous sylvain. these thoughts, too, he buries in that well. )

( another slicing thought: he thinks he loves her. he's terrified of that fact. he doesn't know what to do with it. )

❝ at least if i get hurt, i know you'll be there to patch me up. ❞ he tries to smile again, and succeeds this time around── it's warmer, straight from the heart. ❝ i'm rubbish at white magic, y'know? i don't know how to do battlefield healing like you do, i only know how to fight. ❞ he squeezes her hand, and here, he looks away again, ducking his head. he sees her hand in his, the skirts of her blue dress. he wonders what she sees. ❝ so please, let me fight for you. i promise i'll let you take care of me afterwards. ❞

( rotting, horrendous, selfish sylvain. he wants to stay like this forever. )

[randomnameless]

Seteth's birthday today!

Following the discussion i had with @renisfan yesterday -

AG wise, everyone is a bit tired from the war, so for Saint Cichol day, the former BL organise a snowball fight - prompted by Flayn who wanted to try - and Rhea finds the idea so wonderful that she just, invites herself and Seteth - who just wanted to spend the day reviewing his next lectures, polish his weapons and maybe have a warm cup of tea.

After several rounds of "It's too dangerous", "Rhea no", "Flayn no", "Think of your station!" he's on Dimitri's team*, to supervise and protect Flayn, if needed, but she nearly forgot his presence as she is throwing balls after balls while Mercie rolls and molds them at an astonishing pace.

(Team A got Dimitri, Flayn, Seteth, Billy, Ashe, Mercie and Felix - Team B has Rhea, Cyril, Barney, Annette, Dedue, Ingrid and Sylvain)

Sylvain is torn, should he target Flayn, who's an easy target and can't even throw her balls far enough to reach their fortress, or should he focus on Felix and Mercie?

But each time he readies his "weapons", Seteth glares at him as if this battle is something more than a mere game. It's kind of a stalemate, since no one, bar Flayn, is throwing snowballs (Dimitri tried to throw one, but he used too much strength and the snow vaporised before hitting the target).

Rhea suddenly throws a high shot - leaving everyone perplex, what the frick Lady Rhea, maybe she doesn't know how to play snowball fighting? - but it lands miraculously on Seteth's head, making him pass out.

All barrels are down, Felix doesn't want to lose against Sylvain, so he throws his snowballs with much accuracy and dexterity, hitting Annette with his first shot, before being revenge shot by Dedue - who was in turn blinded by the reflect of the sun on Dimitri's armor, and miraculously got hit by one of Flayn's snowballs.

Ashe is preparing Billy's stock of snowballs, while he's ducking it out with Barney, trying to get rid of him.

Dedue is giving ammo to Sylvain, who can finally try to hit Flayn in peace since Seteth is out. Happens what happens, Flayn is hit, which immediately wakes Seteth up : he failed again to protect her (while she is laughing and dusting off the snow from her robes).

One of Ingrid's unlucky shots is caught by Sylvain before it hits him (they're on the same side, but she's in the middle guard while Rhea'n'Cyril who's preparing the snowballs are in the rear guard) and he immediately throws it on Dimitri, but Felix, being the Shield of Faerghus, deviates him somehow and it lands, again, on Seteth.

Seteth snaps.

It's Rhea's fault, she told him it'd be "fun"! He doesn't want to clean her mess anymore, it's his birthday he has been doing so since her creation it's time to stop.

He throws a crest powered snowball at Barney, effectively KOing him for the rest of the match. Billy worries, isn't he going a bit too far for a mere game?

Sothis chides him, "let children be children" whatever it means.

Flayn is worried, did he forgot they are supposed to be regular humans? And not use their powers for something as futile as a snowfight?

Sylvain knows he's next on his list, so he tries to evade the snowballs, but trips on Barney's unconscious body and falls on Annette, knocking them both out.

Pissed of seeing her allies fall around her, Rhea throws her own crest powered snowballs at Seteth, who counters them with his own.

(Flayn really starts to worry, they both forgot the entire "pretending to be humans" stuff or what??)

Cyril also thinks Lady Rhea's going a bit too far, it's not that important if Seteth wins today, it's only a game, right?

It's unacceptable for Rhea, Cichol is Cichol, her lame and boring brother, he can't win against her!

Bolstered by her newfound resolve, she unleashes her sekrit trump card : the "Double Headed Eagle Strike" (which is a fancy name for saying she throws, somehow, two balls in close succession, the second one is hidden by the first one).

Seteth destroys them with a backhand.

He knows the trick, after all, he was the one to taught Willy the "Swift Strike" combat art at the lance!

He keeps on deflecting Rhea's snowballs saying "useless" each time he deflects one, and start to boast on how she'll never be able to beat him, after all, who taught her how to throw balls?

"It was I, Cichol!"

(Flayn tries very hard to find an excuse on the spot to explain to the rest of the BL gang what is happening, but they're all fascinated by the "snow battle" and didn't register Seteth's words).

Vowing to never lose ever again - while Cyril asks her what she is talking about - Rhea pulls a pink ribbon from her pocked, and quickly braids her hair - Ingrid is surprised, is Lady Rhea also a fan of Saint Seiros ?? - telling Seteth she won't allow another tragedy to transpire -

And then she throws a fireball at him.

---

Flayn later revealed to the BL gang how they were both very, uh, tired and stressed, and when they are so stressed sometimes they snap and pretend to be the Saints to take out their frustrations, but it's nothing to worry about hahahaha - right??

Dimitri understands, and promises to rest more to avoid "snapping", but if he does, will he pretend to be his Father, Loog, the Elite Blaiddyd or someone else?

Ashe and Dedue talk together, no, he didn't dream, when they were playing he swore he saw Flayn's ears being pointy! Annette also pops up, Seteth and Lady Rhea also have them, maybe it's a family trait? Why are they hiding them though, she finds them cute!

Flayn scolds, for the first time in her long life, her two elders, calling them irresponsible and childish, but Rhea cuts her off, at least everyone had fun today, right?

"To think we could all spend time playing with humans today, without restraints, it is the best present I could ever receive."

Then they eat Zanado Fruits together.

[yukiwrites]

For the First time in Forever

Thanks for the support and patience as always, @breeachuuu! I got a bit caught up on it and it got longer than expected, but I hope you like it~

Summary: Dimitri had been plunging himself deeper and deeper into despair, and it hurt Wolfie to simply stand there and watch. Yet, his efforts to always stay by the prince's side did not go unnoticed, least of all by Dimitri himself, especially after the tragedy at Gronder Field...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

Although Wolfram had entertained the idea of talking with Rodrigue regarding Dimitri, it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do in reality. Rodrigue, as friendly as he seemed and acted, was the last remaining Duke of the Kingdom, keeper of the Hero Relic and the one and only Shield of Faerghus. He has an easygoing attitude and was often seen drinking with his soldiers, but still.

He was a dad. Not just someone’s dad, but Felix’s dad.

It felt weird and awkward to try and approach someone like that, though that was ultimately what Wolfie wanted to do. He would just take his time a bit, that was all.

To the boy who had never experienced war, he still hadn’t developed the characteristic sense of urgency of a seasoned soldier, so, to him, it would be alright to take it slow.

There was a lot going on in Wolfram’s plate as it was.

Once they returned to the Monastery, their next course of action had been determined: to reach Enbarr, they first would need to cross the Alliance through the Great Bridge of Myrddin.

The details of the operation needed to be discussed over the course of several meetings, especially since they had to wait for a response from the Alliance regarding safe passage through its territory, so there was a bit of time before they had to set out to the next battle.

Wolfram went to Naga’s shrine as soon as he could after returning, finding it overgrown and full of dust and fallen leaves.

Sure, the place he chose was inside a little cave, but it wasn’t completely safe from the elements, especially since he didn’t build a shrine per se, he mostly carved a wooden statue and placed it under a somewhat decent assortment of rocks and wood.

He wanted to make the place look nicer, even if it was all for his own self indulgence. His faith in Naga had helped him through years of loneliness, so it wasn’t fair to toss it aside the moment he was surrounded by people again.

Thankfully, Wolfie knew where to look regarding wood-carving: he had seen Gilbert sculpt dolls and small animals out of wood in his spare time, so Wolfie was sure the man could teach him a thing or two about it. 

Once the boy approached him about it, Gilbert lowered his eyes to the little doll he was working on behind the gardens. “I am by no means an expert about it, boy. Perhaps you should seek out one of your classmates — Ignatz, was it? The boy has an astounding talent for art.”

Wolfie made himself comfortable beside Gilbert, not taking his eyes off of his craft. “Mhm, Ignatz is talented, sure, but I think the way you do is better for what I want. Sure, having a pretty sculpture might be what most people want to look at, but I want to do something with what I have — my hands and my spare time. I wanna carve something carefully and put my heart into it just like you do.”

Gilbert looked down to his calloused hands. It was true that he put a lot of care into his sculptures, mostly because he thought of his daughter as he did them. They were all presents he could never give her, out of guilt for abandoning her for his duty.

So, each little doll was special in its way, as they were precious gifts for the little girl he would never see again.

After a short silence, Gilbert looked up to Wolfram again.

“Very well, if you are satisfied with me, then I will teach you as best as I can.”

Wolfie grinned. “Thanks! What should I do first? I don’t think I have that tool,” he pointed to the worn chisel in Gilbert’s hand.

“Then, if you are okay with it, take this one. It’s a bit old, but has served me well. I have a spare I can use for myself,” Gilbert handed the tool to Wolfie, who hesitated.

“Are you sure? I can use my knife…”

“No, I insist,” Gilbert’s expression softened in a not quite smile.

“Okay then,” Wolfie received the tool with a smile. “I have a lot I wanna do, so thanks for the help in advance!”

Gilbert smiled without realizing, then nodded. Wolfie would then divide up his time between training, visiting Dimitri, praying and wood carving — a stark contrast with how he had been living for the past half decade, that was for sure.

As good a student as he was, Wolfram absorbed all of Gilbert’s teachings like a sponge. He showed the whistle he wanted to mimic a statue of to him, to which Gilbert reacted with a surprised expression. Although small, the whistle was intricate enough to resemble a dragon while also serving its original purpose.

However, the man did not ask the reason why Wolfram could not learn how to carve from the person who gave him that whistle — after all, everyone had a thing or two in their past they were uncomfortable with sharing with other people. Gilbert had also heard about Wolfram’s circumstances five years ago, so he would not probe an amnestic regarding his past.

Be that as it may, time passed. Wolfie talked to (not with) Dimitri about what he had been learning and why — though he made sure there was no one around whenever he spoke about Naga and his own world — and on the days he came straight from practice, he would show Dimitri his progress on the statues.

The boy also wanted to build a proper little shrine for the statue, so he scavenged the rubble around the Monastery for good wood (which doubled down as helping with the cleaning effort, so yay multitasking!) and put himself to work.

Unbeknownst to Wolfram, his actions wound up attracting Rodrigue’s attention to him. The Duke saw how the bright boy hovered around Gilbert and Dimitri, uncaring of neither men’s indifference. It was something quite unique, especially for one so young.

One evening, a few days before their departure, as Wolfie exited the Cathedral, Rodrigue was leaning on a pillar, as if waiting for him.

Startled, the boy bowed. “Um, good evening, Sir,” he greeted, meaning to go on his way. He still wasn’t ready to approach him yet, but the Duke had other plans.

“What a well-mannered lad,” Rodrigue smiled, the action easy on his lips. His eyes curved like crescent moons, making him look almost fox-like. “Would you join this old man for a walk, lad? Just until we cross the bridge back.”

“Eh? Uh, sure!” Panicked at first, Wolfie put away the wooden doll he had just shown Dimitri, adjusted his bandanna and nodded, following after Rodrigue. 

“Haha, that’s a good lad. Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite,” the man laughed, walking slowly beside Wolfram. “I just wanted to thank you, that’s all.”

“Thank me, sir?” Wolfie tilted his head to the side. Had he done something worthy of thanks?

“Indeed.” Rodrigue nodded. “Thank you for being there for His Highness. I know he hasn’t been the most welcoming, but I see you go to him every single day,” Rodrigue said, never losing the smile. He looked up at the bright moon, taking in the cold air with a deep breath.

Wolfie looked down, somehow embarrassed. It kind of felt like he had been caught on an escapade or something, so he couldn’t answer right away.

Seeing the slight blush on the boy’s face, Rodrigue’s smile widened even more. “Besides, you’re also keeping that grumpy old man company as well, so that’s worthy of thanks, too.”

“Grumpy?” Wolfram took one hand to his chin in thought, momentarily forgetting the embarrassment. “Grumpy…”

“Haha!” Rodrigue laughed again. “I’m talking about Gustave— or rather, Gilbert. Stubborn and grumpy as a mule, that man. Not that I can say anything about it, anyway.”

Caught in Rodrigue’s rhythm, Wolfie giggled in response. “He’s not grumpy…”

“Didn’t say anything about the stubborn part, eh?” Rodrigue winked, then laughed again, setting Wolfram off.

He truly was an easy man to talk to, once one got past the hurdle of titles and what-not. No wonder the soldiers that served under him had such high morale and loyalty. The man was inspiring, charismatic and relatable. It kinda made Wolfie feel bad for taking so long to talk to him — especially since he hadn’t even been the one to start the conversation!

Regardless of Wolfram’s inner turmoil, Rodrigue stretched as they approached the end of the bridge. “You’re a good lad, Wolfram. I wanted to thank you again for being with His Highness, and… Don’t give up on him, alright? He’s still the same man he was before, he’s just not in his right mind yet.”

Wolfram’s eyes glistened. “Mhm. I know. I won’t ever leave him, don’t worry. I actually wanted to talk to you before about this, but you beat me to it, nyahaha…” Wolfie scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Let’s both be there for him until he’s ready to come back,” he said, and in his heart he thought of what Dedue had told him five years ago after they returned from Remire Village.

It had been just him and Dedue in that undertaking, and without Dedue, Wolfie had been alone in his belief. But now, with Rodrigue, at least Wolfram knew he could count on someone to share his hopes with.

Rodrigue patted Wolfie’s back. “You can count on it,” he said, taking a larger step forward to look at Wolfie face to face. “Well, now that that bridge was crossed,” he winked, and if Alois were there, he would surely roar with laughter, “we can both go on our ways,” he bowed slightly. “Good night, lad.”

“Yes!” Wolfie bowed deeply as Rodrigue turned to leave. “Good night, sir. See you tomorrow!”

Rodrigue waved with his back to Wolfie as he left, and the interaction left the boy with a much lighter heart than before. It felt like he didn’t do anything to warrant being able to talk with the Duke, but his tiny efforts had been noticed and acknowledged. It almost brought tears to his eyes, but he managed to take a deep breath and go back to his and Caspar’s room with a spring in his step.

He finished the altar and the sculpture in the nick of time before they had to set out to the Great Bridge. Once they took that location, it would be impractical to march all the way back to the monastery with the entire army, so they didn’t know when they would actually return.

Thus, Wolfie kept a smaller statue with him that he could pray to and left the nice and proper shrine in its little grotto before departing.

During the march, he kept to the sky with Aquilo as usual, but whenever it was time to set up camp, he would look for Dimitri. Several times he found the man simply standing still by a clearing, his eyes burning as he looked southward — towards Enbarr.

It felt as though he spoke even less than before — and he barely ever replied to anything Wolfie said. The closer they got to their objective, the further down Dimitri’s shoulders hunched. The weight he carried multiplied a hundredfold as they marched, and Wolfram caught him mumbling to himself — to the dead — more than once during his visits.

The day the Great Bridge was in sight, Wolfram was tasked to scout it from the sky, finding it heavily guarded and properly armed against fliers. Luckily, he had flown with the sun on his back and at a safe distance, but the ballistas would pose a problem during battle.

Once he reported back, a war council was held.

Gilbert murmured somberly regarding the number of soldiers Wolfram had counted, but Dimitri simply smirked, his eyes dark and devoid of emotion.

“So the enemy has prepared for our arrival…” His voice scratched uncomfortably, making the listeners fidget on their spots. “It matters not. I will kill them all, whether they are one or one hundred.”

“Dimitri…” Wolfram tugged on his cloak, clutching his chest, at the same time Byleth told Dimitri not to say it like that.

The prince glanced at Wolfram’s worried mien before turning his emotionless eyes to Byleth. “What would you do, if you saw the people who stole everything from you? If you saw them right before your eyes, living carefree lives and feeling no guilt. Would you feel nothing?” His voice deepened as he spoke, and he clenched his fist so hard the gauntlets he wore started cracking. “Do nothing?!” He exhaled. “Five years ago... Did you not deem the woman who killed Jeralt to be unforgivable? I am most certain that you did. You couldn't let her get away with her crime, so you took up your sword in pursuit.”

Byleth frowned at his choice of words, but ultimately shook her head with a sigh. “You’re right, I did.”

Dimitri nodded slowly, crossing his arms. “We’re the same, you and I.”

On the other side of the table, Felix groaned, shaking his head. “You're wasting your time. There's nothing to be gained from exchanging words with a boar that has lost its mind.” He placed one hand on the table, looking at Dimitri, but directing his words to Byleth. “This is war. Every last one of us has lost someone we care for. But we choose to suppress our anger and go right on living. All the boar is accomplishing is stacking up more corpses.”

“That’s enough, Felix.” Rodrigue patted his son’s shoulder, but the man wasn’t done.

“No,” he swatted Rodrigue’s hand away. “If we keep running down this path, it's only a matter of time before the ground beneath us collapses,” he finished up, then turned heel and left.

Sighing, Rodrigue turned to Dimitri, who pressed his lips into a thin line under his bangs. Only Wolfram noticed how Felix’s words affected him, as he had never stopped looking at Dimitri.

For the first time since they met again, Wolfie could see it.

He saw the inner battle Dimitri was fighting happening right in front of his eyes. He saw, by the change of Dimitri’s expression, what bothered him and what didn’t. It had been so subtle not even Byleth, who was glancing between Felix and Dimitri at the time, noticed. Wolfram saw it, as he clutched on Dimitri’s cloak to assure him that he wouldn’t be alone, that Dimitri was still taking things to heart, even if outwardly he didn’t show it.

Perhaps he, himself, was unaware of it, considering how the anger, hatred, guilt and repentance clashed within him 24 hours a day, during waking and sleeping hours. But Wolfram had seen it.

Despite it all being such a pitiful, disheartening situation, Wolfram couldn’t help but feel joy at that discovery. If he had managed to catch it, it meant that the fight within Dimitri was nearing its end. He looked conflicted now.

He would be okay. He would recover!

Wolfram squeezed his grip just a little further before letting go once they were drafted into battle.

Dimitri led the charge beside Byleth, while Wolfram and the winged allies served as messengers away from the ballista’s range. Once the ballista was down, they would be able to engage more properly in the battle, but at the moment, they had to pick out the enemies further from the frontlines.

From the sky, Wolfie had a proper view of the battlefield and, with his heightened senses, he noticed a small unit of forces approaching from the east. It looked as if they came from Oghma Mountains, considering they never bumped on their way to the Bridge.

“Byleth!” Wolfie roared, “unidentified forces coming from the east! Permission to engage!”

“What’re their numbers?” Byleth ran behind a pillar to look up to Wolfram as he descended while keeping a safe range.

“Not many. Maybe 20 or 30, all infantry,” Wolfram squinted to see them.

“Alright, go take a closer look, but if they have archers, retreat and set up a defense!” Byleth ordered, taking out her sword and whipping it towards a nearby enemy. “Be careful!”

“Got it!” Wolfie snapped up the reins. “Let’s go, boy!” He urged Aquilo.

As they approached, Wolfram started to discern their forces better. They were all tall, heavily armed, burly men. And in the middle…

“No way!” Wolfie gasped. “That can’t be!”

Aquilo roared in confusion as Wolfram urged him to descend instead of observing from the sky, but ultimately obeyed.

“They’re not enemies at all! That’s…!” Tears sprang up on Wolfram’s eyes as he landed in front of the battalion. “Dedue!”

The tallest man among them stepped forward, not winded in the slightest even after running all the way from the mountain draped in heavy armor.

“Wolfram!” Dedue heaved, stepping closer. Wolfie jumped out of Aquilo into Dedue’s arms.

“Dedue! You’re alive, you’re—” He sobbed. “How—?! I was told you were—”

“Please, Wolfram.” Dedue held Wolfie’s arms and looked at him straight in the eyes. “If you are here, it means we were right in following these forces. His Highness is up there, isn’t he?” He glanced at the Bridge, still so far by foot, yet so close by air. “I must go to him.”

Sniffling, Wolfie dried his face with the back of his hand. “Mhm. He’s up there. Come on, I think Aquilo can take the both of us there.” He said resolutely, but then looked at the men behind him, “but your friends…”

“We’ll catch up, don’t worry ‘bout us,” one of them replied, to which Dedue nodded.

“They are men of Duscur, our Professor and classmates might remember them from five years ago.”

“Alright!” Wolfie puffed up his chest. “I’ll tell Byleth about them too, just to be safe, and they can join up the battle.”

“Thank you, Wolfram.” Dedue bowed, promptly mounting on Aquilo as Wolfie stood behind him.

“Up boy, let’s go!” Wolfie snapped the reins.

Since Aquilo was relatively small for a wyvern and Dedue was considerably large for a man, not to mention the weight of his armor, Aquilo had to run on all fours to catch enough momentum to take off, but nothing he couldn’t handle, of course.

Once in the air, the return to the bridge was quick, though not without dangers. Now that Aquilo was slower, it would be harder to avoid any incoming attacks.

“Byleth!!” Wolfram yelled, spotting her close to the ballista tower. “They were allies! Look who’s with me!” He laughed, waving. From up there, he could see how Dimitri had dove into the enemy lines and was tearing their formation apart on his own. For the split second it took for him to inadvertently look for him with his eyes and steer Aquilo towards him, the ballista had him in the bull's eye.

Byleth took a sharp breath. “Wolfram! Get away from there!”

As if sensing something was amiss, Dimitri turned around for the first time since the battle had begun. Instead of charging ahead like a battering ram, he turned around and threw the Hero Relic, Areadbhar, towards the danger, relying purely on instinct. 

He was truly a war dog in the thick of battle.

He still had a spare lance on him, so fighting off the swarm of enemies to go back wouldn’t pose a problem, but his eyes were focused on where his instincts had told him to look: Areadbhar had struck the ballista tower with the power of the Crest of Blaiddyd, shattering and destroying it with a loud bang.

It took him a moment to figure out why he had done such a thing, but in the next he noticed Wolfram landing right beside the tower’s rubble.

So that was why he felt like something was wrong.

It was to save him.

Grunting to swat the flies throwing themselves at him, Dimitri stomped back to the tower, intent not only on retrieving his lance, but on telling Wolfram off—

“That’s…” He widened his eyes in genuine surprise, unable to even think of suppressing it.

Dedue climbed out of Wolfram’s wyvern, safe, sound and… alive.

Dimitri almost looked to his right, to where he had seen Dedue’s ghost just a few hours previous, but the scene in front of him was so shocking, he forgot about it all.

“Dedue… you’re alive…? But how? I saw you die.” Dimitri scrambled for words as he pulled Areadbhar out of the rubble in a daze.

“My fellow brothers of Duscur saved me. Allow me to serve you by your side once again, Your Highness.”

“Dedue…” Dimitri’s dry lips arched into a smile, probably his first genuine smile in five years. “Of course. Don’t leave me again, you hear?”

“Loud and clear, Your Highness,” Dedue bowed.

“And you,” Dimitri turned to Wolfram, his emotions still all jumbled up. “Don’t be careless. You were right in their range.”

“Mhm. Thanks for saving us, Dimitri,” he smiled shyly, but the battlefield was no place for idle chatter.

“Look alive, you three!” Byleth caught up to them after checking for any survivors under the rubble. “Let’s finish up here.”

The three men nodded, turning back towards the battle. There were still Demonic Beasts, mages and the General to take care of, but now that their morale was so high after Dedue’s return, it wouldn’t pose a problem.

After the battle was won and they could let down their guards, Dimitri once again turned to Dedue.

The men he had come with had also joined the battle, and their fighting prowess was nothing to scoff at. Looking up at the taller man, Dimitri patted him on the shoulder, leaning his forehead on his chest plate.

“Promise me you will never throw your life away like that ever again,” he murmured, then took a step back to look at Dedue in the eyes.

“Your Highness… I will do whatever I can to protect you, and I have trained during these years to do so. My life won’t be so easily taken, that I can promise you.” He said resolutely, carefully avoiding the promise, but swearing something else instead. He would be an unwavering shield, an ever-sharp sword, a life-long protector.

He would not throw his life away, simply because he would not die.

Satisfied with the answer for the moment, Dimitri let out a small smile and nodded, leaving the aftermath to Byleth, Gilbert and Rodrigue to deal with.

After securing the Great Bridge, the Kingdom’s position in the war could not be said to be merely defensive anymore. They were advancing and recruiting more allies throughout the nearby villages as they marched.

One particular girl, too scrawny to head into battle, but determined to fight for her goals in any way or form she could, be it by using magic, cleaning or mending clothes, also joined among them. She was just a tiny little thing, and one Wolfram had no contact whatsoever, but who would shake up the inner workings of their army should she be left to her own devices…

Regardless of who joined and for what reason, the point still remained: they would keep the camp at the Great Bridge and advance into Imperial territory.

Their next target was Fort Merceus, but to reach it, they would have to fight their way through Gronder Field. The numbers grew day by day, as Wolfram reported, and there were movements from the Alliance coming from the west as well.

It would be a chaotic battlefield, especially so once Dimitri heard that Edelgard herself would be joining the battle.

“I can finally kill her… Finally, finally the wish of the dead will be heard,” Dimitri groaned madly as they marched. To his right stood Dedue, overlapping with the ghost that had plagued him for half a decade.

It mattered not.

They would all get their revenge once this battle was won. She would die, by his hand, and they would be free of their resentment. The ghost and voices of Dedue he had heard which contrasted with the flesh and blood ally beside him tugged away at his conscience. 

But he was in too deep to back out now. He had to kill her. He had to kill her. 

He had to kill her. He had to kill her. He had to kill her. He had to kill her. He had to kill her. He had to kill her. He had to kill her. He had to kill her. He had to kill her. He had to kill her. He had to kill her.

As his mind spiraled out of control, he charged into battle without a single ounce of self-preservation in mind.

He broke through the enemy lines, disregarding any orders from Byleth to pull back. He rode through their ranks, walked out of explosions and pushed his charred body towards the end goal.

He could even see her.

He heard her voice barking orders and Hubert’s nauseating chuckles as he shot dark magic at him.

She was so close. He had to kill her. Just a few more steps. He had to kill her. He could see the light glint off of her silver hair. He had to kill her. 

From the sky, Wolfram couldn’t see very well. There was smoke, ash, and many, many stray arrows flying all over the place for him to be able to approach easily. He could see the enemy’s formation breaking, but couldn’t quite make out why. The dust had no time to settle in amidst the chaos.

Wolfram was worried.

He couldn’t see Dimitri anywhere, but he knew he would be down there, putting himself in danger.

Dedue would be right beside him, yes, but that wasn’t enough to put the boy’s mind at ease.

Edelgard herself was down there, so there was no telling at what lengths would Dimitri stop to reach her. Perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps he was…

Wolfie shook his head. “Focus, focus!” He snapped on the reins. “C’mon boy, let’s get back to Byleth and figure out what to do!”

Just as Aquilo’s wings flapped to change directions, Wolfram heard a howl.

Or a roar.

It sounded like an actual lion had roared, but Wolfram knew better. That was Dimitri.

“Dimitri!” Wolfie snapped his head to where he heard it, the sound so fleeting it got drowned by the chaos of battle the next second.

“Your head is mine, now, MINE!” Dimitri bellowed, shattering Edelgard’s armor with his bare, bloody hands, giving her wounds she would not be able to recover from, not in this lifetime. 

“Always with that brute strength…” She groaned, taking a few steps back to gather her bearings. “Hubert…!”

“I won’t allow it!” Dimitri threw Areadbhar towards her raised hand, slashing a finger or two out of it. Breathing harshly like a wounded beast, Dimitri approached once again, however… He was no mage.

Once Hubert teleported beside Edelgard and caught her falling body, there was nothing Dimitri could do to stop him from teleporting away to safety.

He had to kill her!!!

“Get back here! Coward, get back here!!” He roared, falling on his knees, completely spent. His armor was shattered, his cloak was burned and his weapon was so far away he would not be able to reach it. Heaving, Dimitri punched the ground, causing slight tremors until it collapsed under him.

All around him, his allies struggled to keep the enemies away from him. Rodrigue fended off a few mages on his own while Dedue single handedly dealt with the cavalry coming from the north. Dimitri had broken the enemy lines, but he, too, had broken the allied formation, to a point that it would be impossible to recover until all stragglers were dealt with.

He had to kill her. He punched the ground. He had to kill her. His fists bled, as did several wounds all over his body. He had to kill her. His jaw clenched so hard his entire face was numb. He had to kill her. He had to kill her… He had to…

Amidst the chaos, a small figure appeared, hidden by the rising dust.

Rodrigue saw her first, while he was finishing up with the mages. “You there, it’s too dangerous here—” he warned, but something felt off about that girl.

She wore no armor, nor did she carry any weapons save from a single dagger.

“Your Highness!!” Rodrigue screamed, but Dimitri wasn’t in a state of mind to hear anything.

In the few moments between hearing Dimitri’s roar and Rodrigue’s plea, something in Wolfram seethed. His body started to heat up in a way it never did before, and an urge to go to where Dimitri was was so unbearable he almost felt dizzy.

He could see and hear everything at once. Even through the smoke, even through the ash.

He saw as the girl lifted her dagger towards a collapsed Dimitri.

“I hope this hurts,” she said in a low voice, seeping with madness. Wolfram even heard that too.

“Aquilo…” Wolfie felt it again; he felt himself moving slowly. However, this time, the world also felt slow. He could see the specks of dust individually; he could see how each of them glistened in their own way.

He could see Rodrigue crave his sword on the last mage and run towards the girl unarmed, desperation feeling his eyes.

He could see Dedue widening his eyes as he turned his gaze to Rodrigue, unable to move away lest the cavalry rode right past him.

He could see Aquilo’s wings moving too slowly to reach them in time.

He gripped at his locket — at his dragonstone kept safely inside it — and made a wish. He prayed with everything he had.

“Naga, oh, Naga, please, let me make it on time!!” He huffed, his own tears hanging in the air after he moved.

A surge of power enveloped his entire body, stronger than ever before. Stronger than his small dragonstone could channel. 

Safely in the locket, the stone overheated with power, shining so brightly that, for a moment, the soldiers thought there was another explosion. Yet, from within the silvery light, a dragon emerged.

It wasn’t nearly as immense as the Immaculate One that had appeared at the battle for the Monastery five years ago, but it was a full-fledged dragon. Many who witnessed the sight dropped their weapons in awe, either surrendering or deserting.

To Wolfram, however, there was no one else around. There was only one thing he had to do: He had to save Dimitri!

He blasted off at full speed towards the girl, but he was too far away. He wouldn’t make it in time before she lowered her blade.

Rodrigue, however, made it, but there was nothing he could do to block the attack, so he used his own body.

The girl dug the dagger deep into Rodrigue’s heart.

“Rodrigu—” Dimitri lifted his ghastly gaze upwards after feeling warm drops of blood roll down his face. “Rodrigue!” He heaved in surprise, but before he could even finish uttering the name, Wolfram flew right past them, grabbing Fleche with his jaws.

It was a split second difference.

If Rodrigue hadn’t stopped her for that one moment, Wolfram wouldn’t have made it in time.

Well, he made it in time to save Dimitri, but Rodrigue…

Wolfie spat Fleche's corpse out of his mouth, too worried about Dimitri to truly take in what he had just done.

Once he turned around, back in his human form, he witnessed a heartbreaking scene.

Dimitri was losing a fatherly figure, yet again.

“Are you safe…? Tell me it wasn’t in vain…” Rodrigue raised his pale hand to Dimitri’s cheek. The prince had been beset by wounds and his face was full of grunge, soot and blood, but he was alive. He was warm.

“No, no, NO! Don’t die… Please, don’t die, Rodrigue!” Dimitri’s chin trembled. “Father, Stepmother, Glenn… They all died and left me behind…” He hiccuped, deaf to the world around him.

Byleth called for healers, Dedue approached after dealing with the stragglers, and the remaining allies closed in after the battle had turned to a complete still due to the appearance of a dragon.

But to Wolfram, Dimitri and Rodrigue, time only passed between them.

Dimitri held Rodrigue’s hand, which was rapidly turning colder. Very little blood seeped out of his wound, but the internal bleeding was truly severe. Each time his heart beat, it dug itself deeper into the knife. 

It wouldn’t be much longer now.

“This is my fault... I…” Dimitri sobbed. “I'm the one who killed you, as surely as though I had wielded the blade!”

“No, Dimitri—” Wolfie sniffled, reaching out to him, but he caught Rodrigue’s gaze before he could. 

Rodrigue then smiled weakly, his vision darkening. “Your Highness. You have one thing... terribly wrong. None of them... none of us... died for you.” He exhaled, seeing only blurry silhouettes. “I'm dying for what I believe in... just as they did. Your life is your own. It belongs to no other, living or dead. Live for what you believe in.” He smiled, his body sagging as he took his last breath. He looked up and saw Lambert’s face overlapping with Dimitri’s. “My boy... You really do look just like His Majesty…”

Saying that, his hand fell lifeless beside his body, though he carried the smile he had always shown his allies with him to the other world.

Wolfie collapsed on the ground, suddenly feeling very cold.

As if on cue, sparse droplets of water fell here and there, until a light shower started to wash away at the battlefield.

Soon, the rain fell harder and colder, soaking everyone down to their bones.

If it weren’t for the sound of the rain, the silence would have been deafening, but soon Dimitri got up with Rodrigue in his arms, intent on taking him back to the Great Bridge.

Felix stopped in front of him, his face covered by his wet bangs. Without exchanging a single word, he reached out both arms and Dimitri deposited Rodrigue’s body on them, then turned around and left.

Water pooled all around them, mixing up mud, dirt and blood as their soaked boots stomped on them to get to safety.

Wolfram, however, couldn’t take his eyes off of Dimitri. He saw how everyone had been following Byleth’s directions, but Dimitri was the only one who moved slower than the others; he even made Dedue go with the healers to get his injuries checked, despite being full of wounds himself.

He saw how Dimitri walked through and past the stables, heading south.

No!

No, no, no, no! He was going to leave!

“Dimitri!!” Wolfie ran to him, his body heavy from the earlier outburst, though he dragged it on still. Taking care of himself wouldn’t matter if it meant watching Dimitri leaving.

The prince stopped, his tall body hunched over as if in physical pain.

Yet, no matter how much he bled or how deep his wounds were, he could not feel a thing. Not in his flesh, not in his body.

His entire being, the entity called ‘Dimitri’ hurt.

He had to kill her. He had to.

He had to kill her. If not… If not, then what?

“Dimitri…!” Wolfie caught up to him. “Please, please don’t go… You’re going to Enbarr, aren’t you?”

At that point, Edelgard must have retreated all the way to the capital, with what the amount of wounds she had. Fort Merceus would not have the means to heal her. Ergo, Dimitri would circle through the fort and head straight to the capital.

It was the only way. He had to kill her.

“What is it to you?” Dimitri croaked out, clenching his jaw. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“It does!” Wolfie took Dimitri’s hand, forcing him to turn to face him. “It does…! I love you, Dimitri. Please, please don’t leave me alone. Please don’t go where I can’t follow!” he sobbed, his words outpacing his thoughts.

He couldn’t let Dimitri leave. They had to stay together. They had to.

Dimitri widened his eyes in visible shock.

“I know I’m being selfish, asking you to stay for myself, but I can’t help it. I want to stay with you! We can figure out a way together, I know we can.”

“Selfish…” Dimitri murmured, lowering his head to their shared handhold. “Ever since that day nine years ago…” he started, his vision blurring, “I have lived only to avenge the fallen. Even my time at the Officers Academy was all so that I could secure my revenge and clear away the regret of the dead. It was the only thing that kept me alive... My only reason to keep moving forward…”

Wolfie nodded, unable to see Dimitri’s expression through his tears.

“For years I have been looking for the answer… Of how I should save them. How could I answer their pleas,” he confessed, his voice somber. He didn’t even have to look around to see the horde of the dead all around him, Dedue included.

Yet, he knew that was wrong. Dedue was alive.

Rodrigue wasn’t even there, either.

Hadn’t he been fighting for them all his life? Hadn’t he…

“Is that the answer?” he asked no one, answering it himself. “Selfishness… To think of what I want to do?” He remembered Rodrigue’s last words.

“Mhm…” Wolfie nodded, sobbing quietly. Rodrigue and his words had finally gotten through to him.

The inner battle had toppled over, and now he only needed a single push.

“You’ve suffered enough, Dimitri. You can start forgiving yourself a bit, you know,” Wolfie pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around Dimitri’s neck.

Dimitri leaned his head on Wolfram’s shoulder, wrapping both arms around his waist.

“My hands are stained red. Could one such as I truly hope for such a life?” His voice sounded muffled as his entire body shook. “As the sole survivor of that day, do I... Do I have the right to live for myself?” He sobbed quietly, and Wolfie nodded, patting his head.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

Dimitri sagged his body even more, as if the weight of the world that had been crushing him for almost a decade had begun to lift. He leaned more and more on Wolfie for support, strengthening the hug.

“Your embrace is so warm…” he murmured as exhaustion caught up to him. It was a comfortable, cozy warmth. He could fall right into sleep within it.

Wolfie felt Dimitri getting heavier and heavier, deciding to ultimately transform to shield him from the rain as he slept. He placed the prince under his wing and wrapped his scaled body protectively around him, like a dragon protecting its hoard.

For the first time in forever, Dimitri would be able to fall asleep without being plagued by nightmares; and for the first time ever, Wolfie would understand and feel compelled by the urge to make a nest and put his precious people inside of it, never to let go.

[lochnessies]

You know whats so damn funny to me about Felix? How the fandom treats him like he's 99% in the right at all times when it comes to his stance on Dimitri, his father, and Faerghus... and the 1% when he is not treated in the right is when he's miserable on cf lmao. Felix shits on Faerghus and everyone in it all day and people are like yaaas tell the truth Felix go king! and then its just crickets when hes near suicidal after joining Ladlegard.

well he’s near suicidal regardless on ss/vw as well but he seems less self aware of his decline into being a “beast” whereas he acknowledges it on cf.

i’ll die on the hill that the fandom has made an overreaction to faerghus’ culture of chivalry and have blown a lot out of proportion and i feel like felix is a lot of the reason why. not saying he isn’t valid in his critique, but from felix saying he takes issue with the “glorification of death” the fandom has latched on to the idea that the kingdom is violent just for the sake of violence instead of like… the idea of being willing to die and fight to protect the ones you love.

i think it’s telling that the fraldarius family is called the shield of faerghus and not just the king’s shield. there’s more to it than a vassals and lord relationship, there’s also a duty to protect the people. it’s when felix abandons faerghus and that obligation by abdicating and making a living by the sword which had been a turn on his morals. felix trains to protect those he loves, not some amorphous “get strong and hit things w a stick”.

[legendsoffodlan]

*Nemesis and his army are marching on Garreg Mach, and Byleth has rallied the remainder of their forces against him. As the Undead approach, Byleth takes one last chance to rally their students and soldiers.*

Byleth: Children of Leichester! Of Faerghus and Adrestia! My people.

*Byleth begins to ride their horse before the line of assembled students, Claude at their side*

Byleth: I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day.

*The dawn begins to break behind them, giving them a sort of halo. The students of Byleth’s eyes begin to shine*

Byleth: An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down, but it is not this day!

*they draw the Sword of the Creator, glowing in the sunlight*

Byleth: This day we fight!

*The students cheer*

Byleth: By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Children of the Fodlan!

*Nemesis at last crests the hill, and stops, looking upon his assembled enemies. With a sick smile, he raises his hand out towards Byleth*

Nemesis: Sothis...

*Byleth hears the voice in their mind, staring out, their eyes clouded. They take a hesitant step forward. Claude looks at the other nervously.*

*A moment later, Byleth turns back, their eyes clear, a tear running down their face, and a sad smile at their lips.*

Byleth: For Dimitri.

*With that, Byleth turns and charges at the enemy. Emboldened at the memory of their lost friend, Sylvain and Ingrid are the first to spring after them. With a roar, the rest of the army follows,*