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Spending four years with Alanna really rubbed off on Neal. I know he's exhausted at the end of Lady Knight, but the way he harps on Kel for daring to get injured strikes me as very Lioness of him
#protector of the small#keladry of mindelan#nealan of queenscove#alanna of trebond#tamora pierce#he seems to have a much shorter temper once he becomes a knight#it's hillarious#Kel has also rubbed off on him#he's very upset at tobe's injuries and sending a man with a holey heart to a battlefront#i also love how much he's been raised by lady knights
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Anxious Restraint
Sylvain x reader
Warning: war, death, destruction, sad families, blood, injuries
Its a beautiful day during Great Tree Moon. Your nose is filled with the mixed scents of the flowers that are blooming everywhere, their petals catch in the winds and scatter across the cobblestones. You are strolling quietly through the pathways of the school having just left one of your classes and heading to your next when you are suddenly joined by a fellow student, interrupting your thoughts about the upcoming battle.
Apparently, you have caught the eye of the school’s skirt-chaser, the notorious Sylvain Gautier. “Hey beautiful, how are you doing today?” He smoothly slithers up to your side, brushing his elbow up against yours.
“I’m fine, Sylvain” you respond listlessly, wishing this conversation was already over.
With his ‘every girl wants a piece of a guy who smiles like this’ look plastered on his face, he continues, “Want to grab some dinner with me today? Such a beautiful day would be even better if we shared a little time together, eh?”
Eyes straight ahead, you keep walking as if he’s not even there. “No thanks, I have to work on my magic and I was going to practice after grabbing a bite in the dining hall.”
“What about tomorrow?” He pushes.
“Tomorrow I have a test.” You just want him to stop. Mother taught you not to be rude, but he is testing every bit of your patience.
“And the next day?” He sounds desperate.
“Working with Felix on my sword skills. And improving my Pegasus riding so I can be a dark flier. I really have to get going.” Your voice getting louder as you run at top speed to anywhere before you lose your temper.
Sylvain is left in the dust, again. You’re in the same class as he is. You haven’t known him long, but Ingrid fills you in on his life history of philandering. Classes keep everyone busy. You have to study fairly hard, but you are rewarded with great grades. Sylvain is smart, but doesn’t apply himself, he tells you he shouldn’t have to bother to be the best because no matter what, his dad’s just going to make him take his place someday. Seems like every time you see him he has a different girl hanging off his arm. He still asks you out once or twice a month. More out of a force of habit than anything else.
Time flies by with unusual problems happening quite frequently at the monastery. The Church sends the students out to fight their battles for them on a regular basis. Classes are taught, battles are won, then suddenly war is declared. The battle of Garreg Mach leaves everyone numb. You head home to find it is gone, the whole village burnt to the ground. Everyone you knew is gone, you’re unsure as to who lived and who died. You become part of a mercenary group, continuing to fight and develop your skills and battle techniques. Your group will take any job that will take down Empire soldiers or people allied with them. Yuri hires your group a few times. Most of your jobs are in the Kingdom and Alliance territories.
Five years pass and you find yourself back at Garreg Mach, wondering if your friends will be there for the reunion planned so long ago. You are completely shocked when Byleth appears, fighting alongside a battleworn and feral Dimitri.
Once the battle ends the Blue Lions light up the stove in the kitchen, salvage what they can and cook up food that doesn’t quite go together but gets something in their stomachs for the night. Sitting around a table in the dining hall they each tell their stories of what they have been doing the past five years. Most of them protected their territories, saving their people. Byleth was sleeping, Dimitri is absent, everyone draws their own conclusions on what his time was spent on.
Sylvain finds you alone one afternoon sitting on a bench after having spent the entire day organizing and cleaning the library. “So you became a mercenary? You could have come to Gautier or even Fraldarius. Felix and I would have helped you. You didn’t have to be alone.” He said, sounding sad.
“I guess I needed to find myself after everything I knew was gone. I felt like I had to crawl my way up from the bottom. I refused to give up. I hadn’t planned on being a mercenary. I knew I wanted to keep fighting, keep working to be stronger, needing to make a difference for the right cause. Waking up every day knowing that I would work to improve the lives of the people, sure it didn’t win any major battles. But it made a difference to them. I gave them hope. Stealing supply wagons from the Empire and taking them to those that were starving or had no way to protect themselves kept me moving forward all of this time. I may have lost all of my things, but I gained a true purpose.
The next few days are filled with finding places to sleep, hunting and gathering food, repairing rooms and critical buildings, and greeting others that have returned such as Seteth and Flayn with the Knights of Seiros. You work with Byleth, offering to train anyone in reason magic.
Sylvain comes to your classes. You notice that he behaves himself, having grown up somewhat, and actually studies and gains better control of his magic. He finds you in the training grounds late one night, working with the new recruits and decides to lend a hand, helping them with their incantations, manipulation of runes or simply being encouraging.
Finally, the last student leaves. You wave as you grab your tomes and notes. Sylvain takes a seat on a nearby bench.
“You have your spellcasting mastered. I can really see the improvement since we were students.” Sylvain genuinely smiles.
You have a look of shock on your face. That has to be the sincerest compliment he has ever given you. “Um…thanks.” You weakly smile.
“I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He says waving as he turns.
You stumble after him quickly. “Sylvain, thank you very much for helping me tonight. If you hadn’t, I could have been here until morning. That was really sweet.”
He flashes a grin at you and heads out the door. You are confused. The Sylvain you remembered from before the war was always flirting and shirking work. Now he’s helping with working and training. He actually volunteers. Maybe he really is growing up.
Battles come and battles go. Being the eye in the sky, you are always watching out for your friends. After surviving for this many years of war, it would be heart wrenching to lose any of them now. You throw a Thoron into a group of archers that are terrorizing Felix. You guide Ingrid to help Ashe when someone is sneaking up on him. Always, always you have one eye on Sylvain, making sure he doesn’t get himself surrounded or run through on an enemy’s lance. The fights are all the same, only the names of the places change and the numbers of scars on everyone ever increases.
Reclaiming the Capital is a painful battle. Everyone’s heart breaks seeing the city in such ruin. The people are hiding from the soldiers on both sides. Titanus running amok cutting down everything in their paths. You fly quickly, attacking the Empire from the air, then leading innocent citizens to safety and hauling the wounded back to the rear of the lines to get healed. Fire and smoke is everywhere. Your Pegasus is breathing hard and needs a break. You leave it with the other beasts not currently in the fight and run in on foot to see where you can assist. You scurry back to where you had seen the heaviest fighting just in time to see the last Titanus fall with a thundering crash. Dimitri, Dedue, Felix and Sylvain are dashing towards Cornelia. As soon as you are in range you hit her two closest archers with Swarm-z, slowing them down as well as injuring them. Felix and Sylvain defeat the enemies quickly. Dedue and Dimitri are facing Cornelia. Angered by your magic, she casts Luna Λ at you. Normally you have a fairly high magic resistance, however this is a dark magic spell that doesn’t care what your resistance is, it’s going to hit and hit hard. Your last thoughts before you lose consciousness is that your friends can finish this easily and you are glad you’re on the ground and not falling off your Pegasus.
Waking up on a hard cot in the makeshift infirmary of the palace you hear the sounds of people walking softly and whispering all around. You mentally take inventory, wiggling toes and twitching fingers. Opening your eyes you have to blink a few times before you can finally get them to focus. At first you only see oranges and blacks, then you can focus a bit and see Sylvain and Annette standing at the foot of your cot. You see her point your direction and he turns to face you. He was frowning but when your eyes meet his, his face relaxes.
Kneeling down at the head of your bed he says softly, “Hey, welcome back. Think you can take a drink for me?” pulling a waterskin to your lips and lifting your head a bit, helping you take a few sips.
The water is cool and feels amazing on your parched throat. “Mmmm. Thanks.” You whisper as you smile up at him.
“Let’s see. What did you miss? After Cornelia hit you with that spell, she was easily taken down by Dimitri and Dedue. The fighting was over soon after that, we just had to take out a few pockets of enemy soldiers here and there. As you can tell we took over the royal palace. The people rallied outside and demanded Dimitri to present himself to them. They’re accepting him as king and happy to have him back. Your Pegasus is in the royal stables, Ingrid was able to coax her in there. I had no idea she hates men so much, I almost lost my right hand, gauntlet and all.” Sylvain chuckles softly.
“Sorry. She was probably mad at me for leaving her in the first place. Glad I did.” You take another drink, the fog in your head lifting a little more.
Sylvain looks up at Annette, who is getting some bandages together for another patient. “Do you think she’ll be able to make it to the party tonight?”
“If she behaves. She’ll have to take it easy.” The shorter redhead points at you. “No dancing the night away.”
The cavalier pats your shoulder, “It’s nothing big, just the Lions hanging out together, to relax a minute before the next battle. Gotta take a break sometime, right?”
“I will try to make it. I haven’t even tried to sit up yet.” You mumble.
“When you’re ready we’ll sit you up. If you want to eat we’ll get you some food.” He begins, “After you’ve settled a bit we’ll try to get you walking around and show you to a room so you can clean up and change. I’ll come by before the party and help you get there if you want to go. Sometimes these corridors can all look alike. Wouldn’t want you spending half the night trying to find your way there.”
“Sitting up sounds like a good start.” You propose, knowing that magical wounds take time you recall. There’s only so much healing magic and potions they can pour into you. You weren’t sliced open and didn’t lose blood. Mostly once you wake up, you could go about your business, just treading a bit more carefully.
The cavalier is tall and agile, stepping over a few empty cots with his long legs he grabs a wooden chair and sits it down at the head of your bed. Before you can start to turn to stand up, he picks you up and gently places you seated in the chair.
“Wow.” You gasp. “Um..thanks.” a tinge of red warms across your cheeks.
“I grabbed one with arms so if you’re still tired you would have something to lean on. Are you feeling alright so far?” He has the tiniest upturn to the corners of his mouth.
He looks adorable, you think to yourself. Wait. Sylvain. Adorable? Um…hey brain, are you going to answer him? “My head is a bit fuzzy.”
“I’ll check on you in a while, in time for lunch, ok?” the redhead says as he pats your hand while he walks past and leaves.
You sit looking around the room. Soldiers mixed with citizens. A woman with her baby is holding hands with a man that looks like he was badly burned. You can see the strength and determination in her face, she is being strong for him. A young boy sitting by the cot of an older man that is sleeping. The clerics are checking bandages, stopping to talk to every patient and giving them words of encouragement. The physical fighting here has ended, now everyone is gathering themselves together, healing, and getting ready to rebuild and make a better world.
You start moving yourself, getting your blood flowing and stretching, kicking your feet for a while then holding them up in the air. Soon you feel brave enough to try to stand up. Putting your feet on the ground you use the chair to help you stand on your own feet. You don’t feel like falling over, no affects so far except for some anxiety. You spy a chair 15 feet away and decide to go the distance. Your first few steps are taken gingerly, but you gain a bit of confidence and make it the last few steps fine. Sitting down your legs gave a bit so you came down a bit hard, but it felt good to move. Now you realize that you are in a simple gown and socks. Not exactly the best clothes for heading out of here, hopefully someone will be by soon to tell you what to do next. After taking a careful stroll back to your original chair, you spy Annette coming down the row of cots, checking on patients. You take a sip of water and wait for your turn.
“How’s your head? Any signs of a headache? Any pain anywhere?” Her bright and cheery smile always makes you smile back at her.
“I feel pretty good. Whoever worked on me did an amazing job. I just have a tiny headache. I’ve even been taking a few steps back and forth between the chairs here. So what should I do next?”
Annette reaches under your cot for a small bundle. ”We have a change of clothes and boots for you.” She shows you to the bathroom to change. You nod happily, “I would love to get real clothes on. It gives you the mental kick like you’re getting back to normal.”
“You have a great attitude! I’ll bet you’re fine in no time.” The redhead bubbles, walking with you to the powder room.
Clothes changed, washing your face and hands, you feel like a gold bullion. No mirrors in here, probably so the recovering wounded are not shocked about how they look after battle and keep concentrating on healing. You feel much more confident walking back to the chair by your cot. Observing the healers running around, you feel quite useless and guilty for not being able to help them. Before you spiral too far into a frustrating mindset, Sylvain arrives.
“Look at you, all ready to go!” He smiles. “They said if I take it easy with you, we can get you to the dining hall. Ready to give it a go?” He stands next to your chair, his elbow ready for you to grab it for support if needed.
“Sounds wonderful.” You stand up and place your hand on his forearm letting him lead you out of the infirmary.
The first few times he spies a bench he checks if you want to rest or keep going. The continued movement is a little tiring, but also feels really good getting your heart pumping. Once you really begin to feel tired you are already at the dining hall. Felix, Ingrid and Ashe already at the table with their food.
“Welcome back!” Ingrid smiles, waving with a roll in her hand. Felix does his usual nod in your general direction. Ashe waves excitedly as he tries to chew whatever he has in his mouth faster.
“Great to see you!” Ashe begins, switching to recalling his view of the end of the battle. “I saw Cornelia hit you with that spell, it was so scary. You were taking out her archers protecting her and then Bam! This ball of black and purple hit you and you go down. Dimitri and Dedue took her out and when Felix and Sylvain finished her other archers they put you on Sylvain’s horse and he took you straight back to the healers.”
Sylvain returns to the table with a tray full of food. “So I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I brought a few things. Doesn’t matter because whatever you don’t eat, Ingrid will finish for you.”
“Hey!” Ingrid puts her hands on her hips, pouting for a second. Then she changes her mind. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
You decide the soup and a soft roll may be a good place to start. Everyone chats about things that happened in the fight, trying to concentrate on good things that happened such as saving a child or protecting a merchant.
“Oh Ingrid! Thank you for taking care of my Pegasus and getting her stabled.” You happily pat her hand in thanks.
“It was nothing. She was being feisty and knucklehead over there tried to grab her reins and she didn’t take to it too kindly.” Ingrid grinned at the cavalier. “they are not the same as horses!”
The redhead puts his hands up, “I get it! I get it!”
Lunch ends and before you get a chance Sylvain grabs everyone’s dishes and piles them on his tray to take back.
You raise an eyebrow at Ingrid, she shrugs her shoulders. Felix and Ashe are already out the door talking about some training they are interested in. Ingrid says she will check on your Pegasus and let you know this evening how things are. You assure her you’re going to try to make the gathering tonight.
Sylvain returns, placing his arm at the ready, you grab on and as he escorts you, talking about his history here, having grown up frequently visiting the palace, how he would chase Ingrid, Dimitri and Felix down the halls until they would get in trouble and their amazing snowball fights in the courtyards. He leads you down the corridor to your room. Annette and Mercedes are staying in the room next to yours.
“Who am I bunked up with?” You wonder.
“Nobody. This is all for you. The room is huge with a sitting area, a grand fireplace, a huge bed with multiple fluffy pillows and a bathroom with bathtub big enough to swim in. You spy your bags set on tables next to the dressers.
“I am so confused.” You don’t realize you are speaking out loud. “Why this special treatment? I’m just like everyone else. I don’t understand?”
“Remember when we were up against Cornelia?” Sylvain explains. “The person she looked at, the one she needed to stop first wasn’t Dimitri, wasn’t Dedue, it was you. You’re the most powerful mage we have. Sure, Annette is pretty amazing, but she can’t do the damage you do. Cornelia saw it. I know you can dance circles around me. You’re pretty terrifying. We’re thrilled to have you on our side.”
You’re absolutely flabbergasted. You never compare yourself to anyone else. You go out, do your job. You feel a blush to your cheeks even though you find this hard to believe.
The redhead continues, “Then there’s the fact that you do this while flying on your Pegasus. We’ve seen you do maneuvers on that animal that shock Ingrid. You make some seriously fast dives, then stop. The wind force from its wings is stronger than some of Annette’s spells. I’ve seen enemy archers rolling over backwards from it.”
You could be knocked over by a Pegasus feather. You’re just a regular person in the army and he’s put you up on a pedestal…wait. This is Sylvain you’re thinking about. But it’s not his usual flirting escapades. Where is that flirtatious attitude anyway? You have spent a lot of time with him today and walked past plenty of pretty ladies, but you can’t recall his saying hello or paying a compliment to any of them.
“I think I should get a nap.” You say, not sure if you’re overwhelmed or tired or both.
“I’ll let you rest then. I’ll be back for you to get you to the party in plenty of time. See you in a few hours!” Sylvain smiles widely as he heads out the door, closing it behind him.
You sneak over to the door, hearing his footsteps going off into the distance. You peek out to watch him head down the long hallway. You watch him walk past a few female fellow soldiers without a hitch in his step. He comes to the end of the hallway where a cute maid is dusting a portrait and he just keeps going, not even giving the maid a sideways glance. Who is this guy and what have they done with Sylvain? You’re not sure, but you need to find out.
You decide a bath then a nap may clear your head. There are wonderful smelling soaps with flowers imbedded in them and something that smells fresh and relaxing for your hair. Cleansed and warm, it is definitely nap time. You comb your hair out, braiding it a bit and surround yourself by the fluffy pillows. You are asleep as soon as your head hits the pillows.
Several hours later you wake up, glad to see it’s not dark outside yet. You dress in a soft blue tunic and black slacks with your boots. You let your braids loose so your hair can dry. You head next door to visit Annette and Mercedes.
“Knock, knock, anyone home?” You chuckle.
“Hey! Come in!” Annette’s bubbly voice calls back. You enter, hmm, their room is much smaller than yours. You frown.
“Merci’s in the bath right now. Do you feel well enough to join us tonight?” Annette is looking at two outfits she has laid out on the bed, trying to decide which dress to wear.
“I’m about ready. I need to fix my hair a bit, that’s all.” You pause. “Annie, if I ask you some questions will you answer me honestly?”
“Pssshhh. Of course. We have no secrets.” The blue eyed woman smiles from ear to ear.
You want to ask her the right way, not fishing for compliments, because you don’t want that. “So. I’m just one of the many mages in the army, right? I’m no different than any other Pegasus rider. Just a regular old normal person.”
“Well…” Annette scrunches her eyebrows and puts her finger to her chin. “For Faith magic, nobody can beat Merci. Reason magic I’m pretty good, but you’re better than me, and Byleth too. You’re the only one that can cast Dark magic. Byleth does call on you frequently to do some very tough jobs, being out on the front lines where normally mages are not.”
“You can be quite scary!” Laughs Mercedes as she emerges from the bath in a short tunic and her slips. “A bolt of darkness coming down like a demon on the dark wings of your steed.”
“I guess I’m just confused by Sylvain. Did Byleth tell him to watch over me or something?” You look so flustered.
Mercie puts her hand over her mouth to hide a giggle.
“You should have seen him when he saw Cornelia hit you with her spell!” Annette is leaning so far forward off the bed she’s going to fall over any minute. “You fell over and he tried to run over there. Felix nearly pulled his arm out of his socket. He had to stay and finish the archers. Sylvain insisted on getting you back to the healer’s tent as fast as possible.”
“Why am I in a big room at the end of the hall all by myself? Shouldn’t I be bunked with someone?” You are grasping at anything trying to make sense of today.
“That could be from me.” Mercedes advises. “I did tell Dimitri that you need peace and quiet, healing from a magic injury is impeded by stress like loud noises or bad roommates.”
You shake your head a bit. Maybe you’re just tired and after a good night’s sleep you’ll be better in the morning. You remind yourself not to stay up too late at the party.
The three of you chat a bit, getting into gossip and girl talk. Dimitri and Byleth have been getting closer now that he has been feeling much better. You elbow the red-headed mage sitting next to you on the bed, teasing her about a certain dedicated swordsman. She refuses to admit if they have kissed yet, but by the redness on her cheeks, there is something going on there for sure. Mercedes admits to having a few cooking dates with Dedue. He is showing her how to make some dishes. She’s always felt comfortable baking desserts but not cooking main courses and side dishes.
The two ladies corner you asking if you have your heart set on anyone. Sheepishly you have to shrug your shoulders. You haven’t had time to do much beyond teaching the new mages and their battalions, being sent on a few covert missions, and working with the Pegasus knights training, working the stables and working out with your own steed. You see Ingrid the most of the group, frequently Dorothea would be hanging out nearby waiting for her.
Suddenly you notice the time and need to get back to your room to finish getting ready. You wave goodbye and will see them in a little while. There is a lovely vanity with an adjustable mirror. You take a seat and decide to braid your hair in one of the more intricate braids like Petra had shown you in recent months. Tying it with a white ribbon you leave it on your right shoulder. Dusting your cheeks with a light rouge and dabbing your lips with a bit of color you’re done. This has probably been the closest you’ve been to being dressed up since the war started.
A knock on the door brings your attention back from staring at your face in the mirror. You walk quickly to the door to find Sylvain there, smiling brightly.
“You look…like you are feeling much better. Did you get to rest?” he asks.
“I feel great, I’m sure tomorrow I will feel even better.” You smile as he steps back to let you exit the room and he closes the door behind you. You grab the crook of his elbow like you had done earlier and he leads you to the parlor where the gathering is taking place.
“It is great to just hang out together for once. It has been exhausting.” Sylvain announces.
“War takes so much out of you. We have come so far, just a little bit more.” You sigh wistfully.
“The end is in sight.” The tall redhead says quietly. After a pause, he asks, “So have you thought about what you’re going to do after the war?”
“I don’t know.” You slow your pace, trying to gather your thoughts as you walk. “I’ve been so busy with the war, its hard to think about it being over. There is still going to be a million things that have to be done. Setting up government, rebuilding, trying to get everyone to work together. The work never ends.”
“Well, let’s not think about all that work for tonight.” He says as he pauses outside the room. “Let’s relax for just a bit before it all starts over again tomorrow.”
Inside the parlor is a large table with many chairs. Tables loaded with foods, fruits, savory treats and desserts. A large circle of comfortable chairs, couches, loveseats and settees with small tables scattered between them is the right, a few seats already occupied by Dedue, Dimitri, Byleth and Ingrid.
Everyone stands and greets you as you enter. You hug them all, so happy to be back together with everyone. Sylvain holds his hands out hopefully.
“Of course, you didn’t get one yet either.” You smile as you place your arms around him for his hug as well. He smells good. He hugs back ever so gently, his touch is feather light.
Byleth returns to the settee that she is sharing with Dimitri and asks you to sit next to her. You take a spot on the loveseat and chat with her about what happened during the battle from her point of view and she shares how proud she is of everyone. The rest of the Blue Lions filter into the room. Sylvain hands you a glass of water with lemon slices in it then walks over to talk to Felix who has found the spicy meatballs.
Once everyone has a drink in hand, Dimitri offers a toast thanking them all for their help in taking back the Kingdom capital. Plaudits of the attendees fill the room.
The conversations are lively. Ashe sits next to you for a while, talking about some new books he has ordered and offers to let you read them after he is finished. Annette also sits next to you for a while, talking about all of the different and delicious desserts. You prefer the peach tart, however you agree that the strawberry cheesecake is simply divine. The redhead then joins Felix on the couch on the other side of the room. Sylvain stands between you and Byleth, talking about differences in armor quality and comparing different blacksmiths. You invite him to ‘take a load off’ has he likes to say to others, as you move to let him sit next to Byleth and you sit on the other side of the seat, patting the loveseat for him to sit himself. He nods and smiles as he takes a seat and continues his conversation with the former Professor. Mercedes bustles through the room, taking your empty plate and another that Annette had left on the side table.
Sylvain finishes his conversation and looks out into the room. You tap him on the hand to get his attention.
“What have you been up to today?” You ask him.
“I had to work on repairs for my saddle, one of the cinching straps had become frayed. I don’t need it breaking and falling off in the middle of battle. I also had to make sure my horse is in great shape, trimmed her hooves and then took her out for a ride. I used to ride a lot out here with Dimitri. It was good to feel the wind through my hair, the sun on my back and simply ride just for the sake of riding.”
“That sounds delightful.” You think wistfully. “Just going for a ride to be riding. Can’t wait to be able to do that again.”
“Any time you are up for it I would be happy if you would like to join me.” Sylvain smiles.
You gently wrap your tiny hand around his much larger, calloused hand. “Sounds great.”
Another hour of chatting with your friends goes by until a yawn suddenly escapes your lips.
Sylvain immediately notices. “Looks like you have had enough fun for today. I should take you back, okay?”
“Mmmm. I agree. Mercedes will tie me to a cot if I don’t rest.” You giggle
Mercedes laughs, “I have ways of making you sleep.” Her voice is much deeper, lower than normal as she squints her eyes menacingly. She wiggles her fingers in a creepy taunting manner at you, making you laugh even more. Sylvain stands and offers his elbow for you to take. Both of you bid goodnight to everyone as you head back out to the corridors of the palace. You are silent as you both walk back to your room. At the door he is preparing to take his leave.
Placing your hand on his shoulder you stop him from moving. “I would like to talk with you, that is, if you want to speak with me as well.”
He gives a slight smile and follows you into your room. You move to the sitting area. You take a seat on a soft cushioned char, he sits on an identical chair next to you.
“First, thank you so much for all of the help you have provided to me today. Bringing water, helping steady me in the hallways, and making certain I was not lost wandering the palace looking for the party.” You say this with all the sincerity you can muster, placing your left hand on your chest to show your heartfelt thanks.
“It was the least I could do. You have given of yourself over and over, it was wonderful being able to help you today.” A tinge of red covers his cheeks. “You really should get some rest.”
You really want to talk to him but he is right, you can barely keep your eyes open. He opens the door to leave, but you hold your arms out to give him a hug goodnight. He gently wraps his arms around yours as you press your cheek into his chest, exhaling with a sigh. You wave as he steps through the threshold and closes the door.
The early morning war council is held in one of the palace’s meeting rooms. Dimitri shares a message delivered to him earlier this morning. It is a plea for assistance from the alliance, Claude asks for help in Derdriu. Everyone agrees to make the detour to the city then head on towards Enbarr to finish the war.
Arriving at the coastal city, Claude has done an excellent job preparing the city for the fight with the Empire. The battle zone has been evacuated of the citizens and merchants. They only ones involved in the fighting are soldiers. The Kingdom’s army is motivated and strong, overtaking the Empire forces in record time.
There is a meeting between Dimitri, Byleth and Claude. Claude announces he is headed for his own future and wishes everyone well.
The Kingdom marches for Enbarr. The final battle in the war. Edelgard does nothing to prepare the citizens, they flee in the streets as the fight rages around them. The fight is long and bloody. There is no surrendering by Edelgard, she and Hubert fight until their last breath.
You volunteer to stay behind, but Ashe, Ingrid, Dorothea, Linhardt and Caspar remain to start the repairs and healing from the war. The rest return to the north. Sylvian and Felix return to their territories to check on everything and keep their lands going.
Back in the Kingdom capital, your days are filled with rebuilding, not just the buildings, but the mind and bodies of the citizens. You are always amongst the people, one day clearing rubble, the next helping in the orphanages, another day watching a mother’s children so she could take care of business. You explain you are doing this for king and country. If there is anyone to thank, it is Dimitri.
Soon everyone is gathered here again, this time for Dimitri’s coronation. The ceremony is long. Byleth being the archbishop has the honor of placing the crown upon the king. There are so many speeches and the lords of every territory must approach the king and promise their allegiance.
A grand ball celebrating the coronation is held in the evening. King Dimitri is seated at the head table, next to Archbishop Byleth. Felix is next to Dimitri as his chief advisor, Dedue next to him as his Vassal. Ashe and Ingrid are knights, standing guard behind them. They insisted on working, reveling in the honor of being among the first to protect the newly crowned King.
You sit with Annette, Mercedes, Dorothea, Caspar, Linhardt and Sylvain. The conversation is never ending, you haven’t seen several of them for months, so everyone has to catch up. Mercedes and Dedue are engaged. Annette and Felix are officially a couple, as well as Caspar and Linhardt. You have been busy helping restore the school of sorcery. They have been begging you to become a teacher, you are still considering your options.
The orchestra on the opposite side of the ballroom begins to play. The king and archbishop take the floor, starting the dancing for the remaining couples. Sylvain had been seated next to Dorothea and they spoke quietly with each other several times during dinner. You would look up and smile at him and he would always return the gesture.
After the first song ends, it was time for the rest of the couples to dance. You are shocked when he stands and walks over to you, asking you to dance with him. He takes your hand and leads you to the floor. The first few minutes you smile at each other. Then you hear him sigh. You catch his eyes and he smiles at you.
“I’ve missed you.” Sylvain whispers softly in your ear.
“I was hoping you lived close enough that you could come visit here more frequently. Maps can be quite deceiving.” You frown briefly, “How are things in Gautier?”
Sylvain seems to stiffen a bit. “My father is going to step down, leaving me to take his place.”
You try not to frown, “Is that what you want to do?”
He hesitates as the song is ending and he asks you to step outside with him. You stroll through the gardens together, the smell of moist earth and roses fills the air. You stop far enough away that the brightness of the party no longer blocks the light of the stars on this perfectly clear night.
He seats you on a bench, taking a the spot next to you. He leans back and looks up at the stars.
You can’t look away from his face, so you simply watch him watching the twinkling in the skies.
He gently takes your hand in his. “I never wanted to take my father’s place. I never wanted to be like him or like he wanted me to be. I was always such a rebel. I wanted to ruin the world around me, pay it back for all the pain that I had been through. There was nothing that I was looking forward to, being forced to fit in the mold that my father made for me. When they had announced that Dimitri would be executed it made my father physically ill. The kingdom had fallen that day to him. He had no hope left. He stopped pushing me to get married. He couldn’t arrange anything, not knowing who would come out victorious. He didn’t know if he would be keeping his position or would the Empire trample him into the ground. He stopped leaning on me that I would have to be the next margrave, not having any idea how long he was to be the current one. I no longer had anything to defy, to rebel against. I pulled back. I had to learn how to take care of myself properly. Then we came back for the reunion. I had been feeling sorry for myself, then I found out you had lost everything. I saw how strong you had become. Even though you had nothing you had such passion to help everyone else to be better. It was so beautiful. I had never seen anything so beautiful. It wasn’t just a smile, a pretty face, it was radiating from so deep within you. I wanted to be near you, that’s why I had offered to help you, just to be near you. I knew I wasn’t worthy of you. But if I helped you at least I could be close to you. When Cornelia hurt you, I went mad. I thought you were dead. Felix brought me back, telling me we had to finish what you started. I wanted to talk to you after you were recovering, but then we were pulled into Derdriu and went to Enbarr right after that. And then I had to go back to Gautier. After the war, when I went back I thought my father would lord over me, make me continue to do everything his way. But he’s become tired. My parents are going to move to the coast to spend the rest of their days. Managing Gautier is left to me to handle as I see fit. I’ve been working on reaching out to the Sreng, to see if we can find peace between us. Everyone is so tired of the fighting. I know I am. Maybe I could be the Margrave, but I can’t do it alone. I’d like you to help me, teach me to be a good leader, to do right by my people. I would do anything and everything for you.”
You squeeze his hand. “At the reunion I noticed a big change in you. I wanted to talk to you about it but the war never let us have five minutes to ourselves. I noticed you were behaving differently. I wanted so badly to talk to you after we won back the capital, but the war jumped between us again. Maybe the only way I can have an opportunity to speak with you for any length of time would be to go to Gautier with you.” You grin at him.
“I really don’t deserve you.” He puts his arm around you for a half hug. “I know you are so good with the people. Everyone here loves you.” He rests his cheek on the top of your head.
You’re beginning to become flustered. At the moment you miss the old flirty Sylvain. He’s acting..shy? Inviting you to Gautier sounded like a business transaction more than inviting a woman over. “Are you seeing anyone right now? Have you decided what you want to do for yourself?” you ask.
“Uh. No. I haven’t really thought about it for a long time. Its like once the pressure was off from my father, I just didn’t need to do that anymore. But yeah, I want to get married to a woman that I love, maybe have children, and shower them with as much love as I can muster. Make peace with the Sreng. Make the people of Gautier happy too. What about you? Are you seeing anyone? What do you want?”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to get married and have children. Now that the war is over that certainly is a possibility.” You begin. “And you know I like to help people, help them help themselves. I am seriously considering a job offer that I feel I am qualified for. I’m thrilled to find that someone I have been interested in for quite a while is currently single. So things are looking pretty good.” You look up at his face smiling.
Sylvain looks down at you smiling, but unsure.
Your hands slide up his chest, going around his neck and you pull him down toward you, finally he gets the idea and bends down to kiss you gently.
“That took you forever.” You gasp smiling up at him.
“I thought I had already missed my chance. I thought at least if I could be near you that would be fine.” He smiles, kissing you again.
“Ever since I saw you at the reunion, I could tell you were different in the best sort of way. You weren’t hiding behind a mask, you were acting like yourself. As long as you be your true self with me, I will always want to be near you.” You hold Sylvain tightly under the stars.
*****Epilogue
The wedding is the following spring. Both of you frequently travel all about Gautier territory, constantly talking with the people and responding to their needs. You find some people that speak Sreng and learn the language and culture well enough to be able to parlay and work towards a peace agreement. You give up some of the Gautier lands that the Sreng say are important to them. In turn they pay for this property with many rare minerals and jewels that are from their lands. You use this money to improve the roads and lives for the people of Gautier. Sylvain does spoil you rotten. You have at least 8 children and have no idea if any has a crest, not that you care. The Lance of Ruin is given to Byleth to do whatever she wants with the horrid weapon.
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Queen of Amber - Chpt.1
Summary: You're soon to complete your training, finally earning yourself the title of Knight of Ren. Your Master, Kylo himself, relocates you to StarKiller Base to train by his side, but you become distracted at the sight of your Masters enemy, the bases General.
Pairing: General Hux x f!Reader
Word Count: 1641
Rating: SFW
Tags: Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Forbidden Love, Knights of Ren, Starkiller Base.
Notes: ugh I just LOVE the idea of being a knight of ren that ends up fancying hux and having to hide it from kylo. ive had this fic idea for... years..? and now im finally writing it >:)
The depths of space can feel so cold and empty, a vast plain of darkness, the light from the stars barely bright enough to draw away that feeling of nothingness. In some ways, it is peaceful, having a void so large and empty, but that feeling can be often be interpreted as deeper emotions: loneliness, numbness, isolation, etc. Those feelings are regular to you, or were, up until you found your calling in the galaxy and followed it through. Either you were in the right place at the right time, or you were bound to be discovered sooner or later. That's what you told yourself when it first happened, all those years ago. Some might call you a Sith, an out-dated term but one that still fits, like your favourite pair of well-worn boots. The term molds comfortably around you, engulfing you in the power that short word has; you've seen the way people shiver at the word alone, so think how they'd react when they finally meet one?
However, Sith wasn't the right term for you, and your Master, Kylo Ren, had told you this many times before. You were a Knight, or you're going to be, once your training is complete. Snoke had heard your calling through the force many years ago, ordering Kylo to find you and bring you back to him; you were a child back then, your planet stuck in the middle of a war, your parents had vanished amongst the smoke and you'd been pulled to safety by Kylo himself. At first, you were reluctant; you were scared and alone, isolated, mourning the loss of your family and home, just like the stars. But Snoke and Master Ren had been so kind to you, despite not being able to see Rens facial expressions, and despite Snoke being nothing more than a hologram. You'd discovered his real form very few times, usually trailing in the background whenever Master Ren was called to meet him face to face, and you knew that it would one day be you speaking directly to Snoke, when your time is ready. But for now, you find yourself on board a ship, finally docking on StarKiller Base. You've heard about this base for years, though you've never been on it, always occupied with your own tasks and training. Master Ren had recently been ordered to move here, which essentially meant packing his favourite cloaks and trusty light saber; he was one of the top dogs, being forced to share the base with a General that you're yet to meet. Master Ren has vented to many times before about said General. Yes, you two got along well, thought your status still stands as Master and Knight, or 'knight in training', as Master Ren always called you. His other Knights wouldn't bother with the longer name, simply calling you their Knight, or Sister on the occasion that they were being welcoming; they're a polite bunch, ruthless and bloodthirsty, but still your family. You haven't seen them in some time, busy with their own missions, just as you are busy with yours. You let out a deep sigh through the drone of your helmet as you stand, watching the ships hatch be lowered, welcoming you onto the foreign base. As always, your Troopers exit first, followed by their Commander, and then yourself. Master Ren is waiting for you, stood with his arms by his side, fists clenched, eyes clearly watching you despite his face being covered. You've seen him without his helmet a few times but only in recent years; he never took it off when you were young, probably not wanting to show how young he was too, only a few years older than you but his skills and strength said otherwise. You approach your Master, your cloak dancing behind you as you walk, your attire as dark and edgy as your Masters; he'd picked out your original outfit, through you'd changed a few elements of it throughout the years, adding your own flair to it the more yourself and your abilities grew. You know by now that you're close to completing your training, and you personally think you should have completed it long ago, but your Master continues to cling onto you, telling Snoke over and over that you're not ready, despite his words and pleads. Maybe Master Ren has something in store for you? "Master Ren," you greet him, your head nodding softly as he repeats the gesture. "How was your trip?" he questions. "The usual," you reply. "Boring? Master Ren suggests. "Mhmm," you hum in agreement. Master Ren begins to walk, his head slowly turning away from yours before looking forward, his usual body language for when he wants you to follow. "I'll be giving you a tour of the base later this evening, we have a meeting to attend to first, another petty one where the Commanders scream at each other because they're not progressing fast enough." "I thought you ruled this base with an iron fist?" you prod. Master Ren looks at you briefly as he walks, and you overhear the exhale he lets out, a soft laugh. "The General does, apparently, despite them being behind schedule for almost a week now. I plan on stepping in soon if he continues to fail our progress," Master Ren replies. "I'm surprised you haven't stepped in already." "Snoke has ordered me to keep out of it..." Master Ren admits, and you don't doubt that Snoke has had to lecture him again about his... temper tantrums. Master Ren continues to lead you down an array of corridors, the workers practically leaping out of the way; you can sense the fear on them, trembling at the sight of your Master, and even more so at you. The sight of Master Ren alone is enough to make anybody fear for their life, but two Knights? You're surprised nobody has dropped dead in fright, as entertaining as that would be. The room is already full of Commanders by the time you arrive; they're quick to stand, welcoming Master Ren as he enters, their eyes watching as Master Ren takes his usual place at one end of the table. Master Ren doesn't bother sitting, he never does, he claims it's not intimidating for a Knight to be sat down amongst 'commoners', but you'd enjoy being able to rest your legs for a few minutes. You stand diagonally behind him, sensing the fear in the workers, noticing the way they try their best not to stare. "Sit," is all Master Ren has to say. You watch the Commanders go to take their seats, only to jump up seconds later as a stranger enters the room. Master Ren instantly turns to look at you. 'That's him,' he tells you through the force before turning his head back around and facing forward. You know exactly who your Master is on about, the man that's caused him so much hassle during the years that they've been 'working together.' It seems the General has spent most of his life on his base, and you're surprised you've only just met him now. He's a little shorter than your Master, his fiery hair slicked back and glued into place, with perfectly shaped side burns and not a single piece of stubble on his structured face. He doesn't look very intimidating, not a man you'd expect people to fear, nor follow, but you're eager to see what layers there are to his persona. He's already glaring at your Master as he goes to take his seat, pulling out the chair but then suddenly stopping. His eyes trail over to you and his brows are quick to furrow, almost looking at you in disgust. "Not another one," The General speaks, and you can sense the frustration radiating off him. "That's not a polite way to greet one of your Commanders," Master Ren replies... Wait, Commander? It seems the General has the same question on the tip of his tongue. "Commander?" is all he asks. "Commander," Master Ren nods in agreement. "Has Snoke not given you the memo? My Knight here is to complete her training whilst on StarKiller Base. She has the role of Commander until her training is complete, then she will take the Knight status and join my ranks." "One of you is enough work as it is. I don't need two-" The General's sentence is cut off, his mouth is hanging open and his throat beginning to twitch. You know what your Master is doing, and you look down to see his hand in an arched positioned, as if he's choking the General. "Master," you butt-in. He chokes him for a few seconds more before relaxing his hand; Master Ren doesn't turn any of his attention to you, ignoring the Generals gulps for air as he finally sits down at his place on the table. "Shall we begin?" Master Ren suggests. The meeting goes on just as you'd expect - boring and heated, fingers being pointed and accusations flying across the room. Your Master had barely spoken during it, but you knew he was smiling under his mask at the chaos, watching the General bark at everyone, his face turning as red as his hair as he manged to pull his Commanders back into line. You didn't speak a word, you had no need to, and you didn't say much as Master Ren showed you around a few important parts of the base. Your tour then ended at your quarters, just down the hallway from your Masters. He had said his goodbye before leaving you to it, letting you finally unmask in the isolation of your new room. You spent the night unpacking, trying to find some form of comfort in your new home. Hopefully, this base will soon feel like a home..
#swwriting#f!reader#fem reader#female reader#reader insert#multi-chapter#multi-chapter fic#queen of amber#knights of ren#reader#general hux#kylo ren#general hux/reader#general hux x reader#general hux/you#general hux x you#armitage hux#star wars fanfic#star wars fanfiction#star wars sequel fic
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Duende - Uri & Haurche :3
PG because Haurchefant makes innuendo, set during early Stormblood.
The first draft of this was super easy to get out. The edits were a little harder because Urianger’s voice is very different from mine, but a good challenge all the same!!
‘Tis expected of a Scion to battle as expertly as one might pen a treatise. Urianger schedules two ventures per day to hone his physical talents: a bracing run before dawn and a lengthy solo training session at dusk. For the latter, he takes to the rocky shore along the coast line. The precarious climb to his preferred spot (providing both privacy and space) is part of his regimen.
Urianger picks the times when visibility is low and most residents occupied. Small talk is not his wont, nor is he at ease with those not in his immediate circle. There is something about his unmasked, unhooded face that gives strangers tacit permission to approach.
His position and decorum dictate that he engage somewhat in chatter during his errands. The residents do not press overmuch, for which he is grateful. Still, the task fits him worse than the too-small aldgoat leather gloves Lyse gifted him on his last Nameday. (Except, those he could not put on as easily as he might a polite demeanor. They refused to go past the breadth of his palm.)
There are days when the convenience of sunrise and sunset for sundry reasons, prove incompatible with other needs such as visibility and safety.
The unexpected rain pours down as he wends his weary way up the cliffs. It sluices through his hair, running rivulets over his brow. For the dozenth time, he swipes at his face and squints against the onslaught.
His feet remember where to place, his hands where to grip for balance. These are his cliffs and his winding, narrow path. No one knows it better. Should that memory etched into his muscle fail, a fall here would not be deadly.
‘Twould be painful though, and impact his duties for the next few days. For that latter reason–above all–he takes longer than usual along the rain-slicked terrain.
There, he thinks as he nears the safety of the plateau. Urianger blows out a soft breath of relief, relaxing muscles he has kept tense during the arduous journey. For this stretch he has always found it best to walk sideways, arms spread for balance. It has never been a treacherous spot, simply steep enough to warrant caution.
Today, treachery comes at last. He takes a step up the incline, shifts to lift the other foot. The slippery grass beneath his boots gives way and both feet shoot out from under him. He has enough presence of mind to throw his gravity forward rather than backwards.
The impact is unpleasant but survivable; naught but his palms and dignity scraped. Dirt and mud bespatter the front of his shorter training robe. The cotton garment ends below his knees, the boots just above. Thus the joints are spared injury besides a dull ache. He chooses an ignominious crawl up to the plateau rather than risk another fall by rising on the sodden incline.
The rain is not so courteous as to clean his garments. It does offer some reprieve as he turns his stinging palms up to the sky and rubs the rainwater against the creases of grime and grass.
Ah, well. Rain is uncommon enough that he should be glad when it comes. Should his comrades ever summon him to battle in such precipitation, he shall be well-prepared. Lord Haurchefant oft speaks of how training in winter climes these five years have better forged him for difficult conflict. (Urianger suspects it is not only snow and ice that stood in the knight’s way.)
He finds himself smiling, thinking of his new colleague. Though their base is near underground, ‘tis not wholly cut off from the outside world. Vents let in sunlight, rain can be heard pouring upon the streets. Like as not, Haurchefant put a kettle on soon as he perceived the change in weather.
The Waking Sands are enchanted to remain a cool temperature. If the sun does return in full force, they shall not overheat drinking cocoa.
Befouled, bedraggled, and besodden; he returns to the outskirts of Vesper Bay. The twilight and the rain have not put off the residents. A knot of people gathers near the market stalls, the hum of their voices rising just above the thrum of rain upon roof and stone and sea. The citizens hold cloaks and hands over their head as shields, one has a parasol meant for sun and aesthetics.
‘Tis a lovely pink one with expensive-seeming trim. A shame it is likely ruined.
The reason for their cluster becomes apparent. Lord Haurchefant is the focus upon which they circle, tallest among them save two other residents. His silvered head is bent to them as they harken to his low voice. This eve, he has garbed himself in a long scarlet coat over his usual apparel. ‘Tis the first time he has donned sleeves since his arrival.
(For all the good it did me to be tempered by winter, his lordship had said. It does make me rather pitiful in a desert. I shall do my best to acclimate to Thanalan.)
They all gaze upon him with utter rapture. It has ever been so, since his lordship’s residence began in the Waking Sands while Urianger’s comrades and Haurchefant’s love continued on to Gyr Abania. Their adoration is not due solely to his fair countenance or noble title, though both must aid the cause.
There is an...openness in him that beguiles all he meets. Urianger has witnessed the surliest residents and most peevish of vendors open like blossoms to the sun when Haurchefant turns the glory of his attention upon them. Such an unusual power he has seldom witnessed and never from so kind a soul as this knight.
There is no avoiding this throng, even would it not be unconscionably rude to avoid his guest. At least there is a smaller chance of strangers engaging him in conversation. Not with a beacon such as Haurchefant seizing their attention, both intentionally and involuntarily.
“-suppose he will be alright, he knows the land better than I.” He hears Haurchefant saying as he approaches. His noble brow is drawn down, his battle-sculpted arms folded. “But do let me know if you see him. No one expected this rainfall.”
Doth he….speak of me? Urianger wonders. As if attuned to his thoughts, his lordship turns his way. Surprise, then relief, and then rapture all pass across his handsome features.
“Urianger!” He exclaims. “Thank the Fury. I was worried–I know you favor treacherous paths,and with the dark and the rain…”
“I am well,” says Urianger. “Thy concern is much appreciated and noted. ‘Twould have been a perilous journey had I not been close acquainted with yon cliffs.”
Haurchefant steps towards him, gaze sweeping up and down. Lingering on his bare face, throat, and collar. “It seems it was perilous for your clothes. Let’s get you inside and taken care of, yes?”
One of the crowd smiles at Urianger. Mara, he recalls, the tall Hyur woman who hawks fruit. “Well, we’re glad you’re alright, ser. I was just telling June that I worry when I see you go off in the dark.”
“Ah,” he says, trying to recall which is June. The baker. Yonder woman with the braids who oft gives thee extra tea biscuits. “Tis not my intent to cause worry. I am well versed in the land and how best to scale it.”
“Even knowing that, do be careful.” Mara gives an imperious nod. Others nod as well, their eyes on him and not the handsome knight.
He can only nod again, bearing and smile stiff. He does not recall all their names. It makes him feel the most ill-mannered of scoundrels. He sweeps into a bow towards them, hoping it goes to some measure in repaying their concerns. “I shall endeavor to have a care, my lady. Your solicitous care bringeth warmth into mine heart, ‘tis only right I do well by all gathered.”
She smiles and pats his arm. This seems a signal for all to disperse, more residents bestowing upon him pats and nods. It is a wholly alien experience, and he considers he may be lying at the bottom of the cliff in the midst of a delusion. Surely he is not dear to all these people with whom he barely speaks.
“Come friend,” Haurchefant says. “You need to get out of those wet clothes and have something warm in your belly.”
“Thou art just as sodden,” says Urianger. “Pray also attend to yourself. Thou shouldst not catch sick for mine sake.”
“Ah but I would have done so gladly if I had to save you today.” The knight’s smile is wide again, fair dazzling in its potency. Again, Urianger is astonished any resident would look at him with Haurchefant there. Do they not sense the charm radiating from his very core? “I do thank you, for arriving when you did. There are much better games we might play in the dark than hide and seek.”
Urianger near trips on the steps up to the door. Of course, Haurchefant is there to catch him, strong hands righting his balance and smoothing over his back.
“I beg thine pardon,” says Urianger. Regretful that he has no mask or hood to hide the heat upon his cheeks. As Lord Haurchefant is cheeky himself to everyone, he is likely used to it. ‘Tis not the first time Urianger has witnessed or received innuendo delivered so warmly from this man. “Mayhap I used more energy than I surmised, during my exertions today.”
“Yes,” Haurchefant nods, opening the door. “All the more reason for you to come relax with me once you have cleaned up. I shall not have you burying yourself in work when you have earned respite.”
“For a little while,” says Urianger. He glances back at the streets, at the residents seeking shelter in houses and under awnings. At the way some of them look at them–at him. Relief and concern and warmth in their gazes. He frowns and cannot lose the change to his mien, even in the warmth and dry of the building.
Haurchefant pauses at the top of the stares, giving his shoulders a roll before beginning his descent. ‘Tis late and his friend is often tense in his upper body by the time supper comes. He will need help working the knots loose again. Perhaps Urianger might put off his tasks even further to repay Haurchefant’s worry and concern.
As to everyone else in Vesper Bay, he is at a loss on how to make recompense.
His friend reaches the door to their sanctum and turns back, looking up at Urianger still upon the landing. “Dear Urianger, what is the matter? That’s a rather pensive expression.”
“...I didst not realise the depth of their regard for mine person. Yon residents and I art not particularly close.” He shakes his head.
“Oh,” says Haurchefant, that entrancing smile returning to his mouth. “Do ask me an easier one next time.”
Facetiousness is not Haurchefant’s way. The ironic reply seems out of character. “Yes, I am aware the reasoning seems difficult to determine-”
“‘Tis not.” Haurchefant’s eyes crinkle with laughter. It does not sting–there is no malice in it. He doubts such a quality resides in the knight. “You are quite charming, even when cloaked. It inspires others to take interest in you.”
For the second time, Urianger says “I beg thine pardon? I am not given to using mine wiles-”
“No, no. We should all be in trouble should you do it apurpose. But you have a natural draw that leads people to want to know you. As you signal that is not what you want, they have kept their distance.”
It is an absurd supposition that Haurchefant says with all the conviction of his noble heart. So much does he seem to believe it; that Urianger wants to also trust it, if only for his friend’s sake. “I am...uncertain of the validity of thy premise. However, thy kindness and belief warms my heart. Wouldst that every man hath such a friend as you, my lord.”
At this, Haurchefant lets out a clear, ringing laugh. Again, there is no mockery in it. The sound is joyful and pleased, as seductive a sound as every part of the man. ‘Tis a wonder such a man as he thinks his draw is mirrored in Urianger.
“So I must endeavor to convince you of it, till you are no longer agreeing to humor me.” Haurchefant opens the door, shivering at the blast of magically cooled air upon his wet person. “Well, I look forward to the process. One could do far worse than spending an evening convincing a beautiful man of his charms.”
To that, Urianger has no answer. Nor does Haurchefant expect one. He winks and enters the Waking Sands, door closing behind him.
It occurs to him and the rapid beating of his heart, there is a reason he perceives Haurchefant as charming and beguiling and the one who everyone should desire. Projection has not been a key failing of his, but he has fallen prey to it before. And presently, it seems.
And Haurchefant is correct in one thing: there are far worse ways they might spend the evening. Perhaps Urianger shall put his work on hold tonight, to see the knight’s endeavor in full.
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Arcanus distinctly recalled vowing to himself that he wouldn't end up sitting within the encroaching arms of the tribunal table, yet here he was again. For the first time in his life, he found his limbs full of anxious energy. His stillness, trained from birth, eluded him. Every time his mind wandered even a little to how he had arrived here again, he came back to himself to find his leg jittering or his fingers clenching into painful white-knuckled knots. He felt estranged from himself, and worse still, Telos was closely observing his disquiet with a still but furious expression. He had never seen her in a mood so foul, and it picked at his already unnaturally frayed mood. He wasn't the cause of her bad temper, but she had excused him from several conversations recently so he could scarcely guess what had caused such a forbidding scowl to become her resting expression. For being more lax than Arcanus would have liked in a fellow guard, Bestealcian considered Telos' conversations an off-limits topic even with Arcanus, so her chattiness did not extend so far as to gossip with him about whatever it was she observed when Arcanus wasn't with them.
"Imagine my surprise," Telos growled. "When I spoke to Ashes and learned that you haven't spoken but a few words to him in weeks. Yet by my recollection you ran out of this tribunal just a few days ago, pale as a butter caiman and, I thought, rushing to his side after finding out he could have been devoured."
Her eyes narrowed, wordlessly daring him to tell her anything but the truth, and when she spoke again, it was with such menace that the hairs on Arcanus arms stood. "Where were you."
"Bramble Step," he confessed immediately.
"Why."
"To look for Carnelian."
Her fist slammed down on the table. "I am your charge, and that was supposed to be above all other things!" Cracks spread under her hand, black spiderwebs in the delicate marble top. "Yet you ran, not for family which I would have forgiven you, but for what?!"
“For him, clearly," Arcanus sighed, too tiredly and meekly for even Telos to take the words as a challenge. The nervous energy had gone and he sagged in the audience chair like a mountain settling after a landslide. "I would never speak such an oath to you with intent to break it. Again I let emotion get in the way of my mission. This level of attachment is unfamiliar to me; even among my charges I have only experienced it perhaps three times. And never was it mutual as it has become with Carnelian."
"And what does this mean for your being my knight? Are you telling me this was a one time thing?"
He clenched his fingers, and his forehead filled with wrinkles, but he bowed his head. "I will work to make that so."
Telos watched him awhile, as she had the last time she'd had to confront him about his failings. While her anger didn't quite fade, she seemed to reign in whatever other frustrations she had. Her voice was still irate, but clearly seeking understanding when she spoke again.
"Have you never had a best friend?"
"I thought Lutia once, in my youth." His eyes strayed, wandering old memories. "But we were mere like spirits drawn together. There was no time I would have placed her above even the lowest of my charge-related priorities. I believe the unusual closeness of this relationship may have triggered a misdirected charge-panic."
Telos paused in the middle of cleaning marble pieces and dust from her fist. "Has that happened to you before?"
"The closest I came was handing Zo over and returning to you."
She met his eyes only briefly before they mutually decided not to revisit that complicated time in their agitated states.
Bestealcian interrupted with a hum that signified they were no longer alone in the hall, and both looked back to see Techne strutting in. Arcanus lifted himself from his seat to give them privacy, but Telos snapped bad-temperedly and pointed him right back into it. The two Xannites gathered behind a privacy screen of rippled glass that shimmered with subtle runes. The intensity of their conversation was obvious from their faces and body language, but silence reigned in the hall.
Arcanus watched them as a matter of course, but without curiosity. Techne and Telos’ revolving exchange of who had power over who had long since lost the vague sense of unease it once called in him. It did strike him as odd that there was so much heat in both of their eyes. And then Techne did something she had never done before. One moment he saw her crest flare, then a quick whip of her tail against the floor, and in the moment after she had assumed a glamour and was shoving her finger aggressively in Telos’ face.
Techne never walked Aphaster in glamour. None of the Xannites who came straight from the House ever did. Yet there she was, a head shorter than Telos, stocky as a bogsneak, and crawling with electricity that jumped from short but surprisingly garish hair. Telos seemed to only grow more incensed by this, and it quickly came to the two of them yelling in each other’s faces as their elements crept and crawled around them.
Arcanus was curious now, but not alarmed. Telos would win that fight if it came to it, but there was something he couldn’t name about the way they were fighting. Subtle cues that he recognized from frequenting Feldspar and seeing Dreamweaver’s children interact. A waver in the angry set of Techne’s brow, a flicker of fear, the reckless way she was lashing out; next to Telos whose eyes were stubborn and set, defending herself but never attacking. It felt like a fight between an older and younger sister.
One, Arcanus thought uncomfortably, where the younger knew she was getting ready to do something dangerous.
His belly was left full of dread even as their tempers subsided. Techne made a gesture toward the ring, and Telos shook her head and gestured toward her chair. Techne bent and squinted, and, seemingly satisfied to have spotted whatever she was asking for, produced a scroll. Arcanus saw her heave such a sigh that her whole upper body sagged, and she spoke to Telos. Firmly, but with no more fury.
Telos seemed agitated and turned away, arms crossed. Her eyes caught his before she raised a hand that shakily flitted against her chin, ambled around her cheek and nose, and finally rested on her forehead. Her mouth moved. She gave a few firm chops of her hand, drawing some boundary in this strange deal that she wasn’t about to cross. Her arms dropped and she turned back to Techne with a tired finality, and there was something like pleading in her eyes as she spoke her last words.
It got her the scroll.
Techne left the privacy of the magicked screen at a brisk march, snatched whatever had been beside Telos’ chair, and left without another word. Sparks still jumped from her feathers even as she abandoned the glamour.
Telos wandered out slowly, scroll in hand. Her brows were still drawn, her shoulders tensed. But it seemed to Arcanus that her stormy demeanor was more uncertainty than anger. Her grip on the scroll as tight, but so was her grip on her own arms, and her gaze fell to the floor as she stared at nothing--replaying the argument, or maybe self-comforting.
“These are strange times for us all,” she said abruptly, startling him. “That’s all I will say of your transgression. Even you are no good with unfamiliar situations.”
“Even me?”
She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I thought of you like a boulder for the longest time. The idea you could be stirred by something that wasn’t your charge? Laughable before today.” A snort of a laugh left her and she shook her head. “I thought you were incapable of being irrational, but you’re just a dragon like the rest of us.”
His eyes dropped to the floor, and he found his chest burning with shame. “I’m sorry. I’ve been...soft of late.”
“That’s not a bad thing.” A wry smirk tilted her lips, and that one made it to her eyes. “Provided you can still do your job.”
He didn’t appreciate the joke-as-peace-offering as much as she’d hoped. She really didn’t mind that he had come to love and care for others--his relationship with Stellaria alone was one so clearly filled with stodgy but mutual doting it was difficult to not be overwhelmed with a sense of warm familial love that made her want to spoil Jorah rotten. But for Arcanus, with his sense of self so hinged on being a good guardian and living up to the highest principles of their species, ‘softness’ was not entirely welcome in his life.
“Carnelian is a savvy man,” she tried instead, and rest a hand fraternally on her shoulder. “He’s not the kind to go getting killed without something exploding. I’m sure he’s alright.”
Arcanus made a faint noise of agreement, and gingerly pulled away.
#voices from the eclipse#Flight Rising#c: arcanus#C: Telos#C: Techne#In which everyone needs a hard drink
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part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || x
A short story I patched together for my creative writing class. I liked it enough to keep it, considering it details a bit of lore between some characters here and there.
Title: Sanguine Characters: Beryth Draghici, Konstantin Vladisav, Vanithas Word Count (Total): 6,321 Word Count (Current Part): 1,397 Warnings: Weird, supernatural gore-adjacent stuff, family issues, emotional manipulation.
And a grand night it had certainly been.
Beryth was awakened by the sharp feeling of Marcovici’s boot granting him a swift kick to the ribs, his pale eyes flying open as he yelled out in utter agony. He rolled over in an equally groggy and defensive manner, hacking up a bit of blood as he tried to put a healthy amount of distance between them. When he looked up, he noticed that the pulsating orb of ectoplasm was still present, but it… Seemed as though it fell dormant.
“Why do you speak to me as if you know me, beast?” He spat out, wiping the excess blood away from the corner of his mouth.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” came Marcovici’s haughty reply. Another shimmer overtook his form, and the once caramel-colored strands of his hair began to reveal that they were a dark shade of obsidian—even the structure of his face began to contort, his eyes becoming more almond-shaped and his lips drawing into a thin line. A small beauty mark dotted the left corner of his mouth, which ended up contorting into a sickening grin. “Certainly Sir Draghici remembers the one he ruled beside for so long, no?”
Beryth felt like he’d just been kicked in the ribs again despite the space he’d made between them. The way that the illusion dropped from the vampire’s very being was like watching the curtain in a theatre fall, but instead of the pleasant feeling one might experience at the end of a good show, he only felt distraught.
"Konstantin?” He squeaked out, his eyes widened to a ridiculous degree.
"Who else?” The newly renamed man laughed cruelly. “I’m surprised you even remembered me…” He gave way to a pout but ended up shaking his head. “Though, I digress. Have you had the chance to meet my darling little treasure?”
He moved his hand back in an incredulous gesture, his clawed fingers all pointing towards the foul-looking thing behind him. There was a subtle shift in the magical energy that surrounded the lot of them, and with a blinding flash of light, the sac let out a tremendous, deafening roar and split open. The sound was disgusting and meaty, but what emerged wasn’t as awful as one would assume. At first, it appeared to be an angelic being, but as the moon bathed their pale face in her softest light, another revelation was made in Beryth’s mind. Their blonde hair framed their face, the moonlight illuminating the back of it like a halo around their head. They stood at a height that was much shorter than Beryth’s if he were standing upright, but the slightest glimpse at their hollow black eyes was enough to freeze his thoughts in his tracks. They canted their head to the side, placing one finger to their lips in a “shushing” motion as they glided across the floor and came to stand between the two men, soon placing their arms behind their back. Tendrils of ectoplasm reached out and caressed the androgynous figure, placing a set of threatening horns on their head and a pair of folded wings at their back. Both were made of fluid, pulsating blood given solid form.
But to Beryth, the shape of their face was unmistakable—even if their eyes were blacked out as his own had been mere moments before. The stranger that had come into his home so many years ago resembled them in near-perfect mimicry, but… No, this couldn’t be them.
"The heir of the Draghici family crawls back to Traguca after following the scent trail I left for him to follow.” Their voice was a dead-ringer to him. It sounded disappointed, to boot. “Do you think you’re smart? Were the implanted emotions not enough to keep you away from this accursed place, boy?”
Such harsh words inflicted an internal wound on the hunter as he placed his hand to his chest. His short-lived denial had been shot down in an instant as numerous questions bubbled in his mind. Was everything he experienced fabricated? His passion, his drive, his sadness, all of it? No, no, no!
"Worry not, Vanithas,” Konstantin reassured the demon, waving a hand in their direction, “His stubborn attitude has been knowledge of mine for many, many years. It’s no surprise that he stepped so boldly into failure, even without your influence.”
"Don’t speak of me as though I’m not here.” Beryth demanded lowly, his tone slipping to a growl.
"And why shouldn’t I? Vanithas gave you a gift, but you chose to follow the foolish path instead of the righteous one.” Konstantin inspected the underside of his nails.
"A gift?” Beryth hatefully questioned, "You would call what that creature gave me a gift?”
"Of course it is. Must I explain everything?” Konstantin groaned, rolling his eyes as he flicked his wrist towards Beryth. “Vanithas. You take care of him.”
The demon obediently turned toward Beryth, outstretching their arm as silvery threads sprouted from their fingertips. These bound the hunter to the ground despite his fervent protests and heavy breathing; his struggle was futile, especially as Vanithas glided towards him as they had done the night they had met. The hand not sprouting thread touched Beryth’s forehead again, but this time, he didn’t pass out. He felt every emotion at once crashing into him like a wave, and the blood that coursed through his veins made him feel as though his entire body was on fire. He twitched and writhed in absolute misery as the illusory glimmer overtook his own body, revealing the whites of his albino eyes to be black and rendering his canines much longer than they should have been. His nails and ears came to a fresh point, the tips of the claws themselves almost ripping through the measly fabric gloves he wore.
He arched his back as the transformation slowed, his screams dying out as he flopped down against the cold marble once again. Sweat beaded on his brow, mingling with the strands of his pristine white hair as he slipped over to his side and clutched his gut in agony.
"Come now. No self-respecting progenitor should scream like a little girl,” Konstantin egged with an awful grin, “You’ve got something to be proud of for once in your miserable life.”
Despite the crippling pain he had felt only seconds before, the comment on pride really lit a fire within Beryth. His limbs trembled fiercely as he quickly picked himself up and made a beeline for Konstantin—he wasn’t sure of what would happen when he hit him, but he knew that he needed to at least try—and that plan was immediately thwarted as he became aware of a sudden pressure on his chest. He felt his ribs cracking before he realized what was going on, and by the time he’d been flung across the ballroom to make a heavy impact with the distant wall, he was seeing double. Konstantin had one of his hands balled into a fist, his damning gaze fixated on his wretched body.
"Doing this will get you nowhere.” He stated flatly, his once jovial and theatrical voice taking a dramatic turn, “You have the blood of nobility in your veins, and yet you deny your gift? The demon took pity on you when they first saw you and gave you the means to do as you desired, and yet you—” he trailed off, gritting his teeth. “I had at least hoped to keep you distracted until I could learn to control my temper, but alas…” He took off the glove of the hand he’d punched Beryth with, rubbing his knuckles soothingly, “… I don’t have time for someone with the mind of a child pretending to be a knight. Come and find me again when you’ve learned how to properly duel, at least.”
Once again, Beryth couldn’t get a word in. Even his advanced regeneration wasn’t fast enough to get him in working order by the time Konstantin disappeared in a puff of shadow and Vanithas did the same, leaving him alone with the corpses of those he’d sworn to protect. He knew what Vanithas had given him on that fateful night when he said he’d do anything for his family and his people, but he didn’t want to use this curse for a goal that was so pure in meaning.
No monster could ever become a hero, could they?
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