#hilda and marianne keeping in touch is a great idea too

[cartoonnonsensegirl]

My Fire Emblem: Three Houses Ending Ideas for Byleth

Some may have ships, others not.

Male Byleth

Verdant Wind: Becomes Claude's leading general and advisor. Could also serve as an ambassador to Almyra.

Azure Moon: Same as above, but for Dimitri. I think M!Byleth would go well with Mercedes.

Silver Snow: Becomes Archbishop. Either Mercedes or Flayn is his wife.

Crimson Flower: Can either be a general or an advisor. I'll let you know that I ship Edelgard with Hubert, so a marriage between her and M!Byleth is not on the table for me (and I do really like her character; I just personally can't separate her from Hubert in any way, shape, or form).

Female Byleth

Verdant Wind: May either marry Claude or remain one of his advisors (should Claude make Hilda his queen). Maybe even an ambassador to Almyra. (this one is hard, since Claude x Hilda makes more sense to me, yet I did marry Claude on my first playthrough)

Azure Moon: Becomes Dimitri's Queen.

Silver Snow: Becomes Archbishop. Possibly marries Seteth.

Crimson Flower: I'm still firmly in the Edelgard x Hubert camp, which brings me to my favorite idea: F!Byleth becomes her personal handmaiden/lady-in-waiting who tends to her, styles her hair, designs/makes her clothes, and will eventually become her midwife/nanny.

[glowingbadger]

SFW and nsfw request for Hilda, Marianne, and Dorothea pls!

Three lovely ladies coming right up ~ (I'm keeping things a tiny bit more brief than some other posts for each character since we have three this time around so this doesn't get too crazy long lol- I'm trying to pace myself a little better these days)

SFW (nsfw below the cut)

Hilda:

- Hilda is so fun as a partner, since she always knows how to have a good time without stressing the little things (or the medium things... or the big things...). She fully encourages you to join her in her lifelong effort to live as easily and comfortably as possible, and she hates to see you anxious or stressed. When you're in a bad mood, few people are as relaxing to be around, as she probably has a cute little craft she could use your help on while reminding you that "we're together, right? So between the two of us, we can get as much done with half the effort- so don't worry about the boring stuff!"

- She's the type to have really cute, thoughtful ideas for dates and gifts, but then to play it off completely when you thank or compliment her. She'll downplay gifts with a glib, "Oh, well, I was just in the mood to throw something together- it is nice though, isn't it?" doing her best to hide the please flush across her cheeks. She's confident, of course, but she doesn't immediately want to let on how much effort actually goes into her shows of affection. Overall, she's a little concerned by how her feelings for you make her want to put in effort, so if anyone comments on it, she'll do her best to disregard the conversation and act like her 'normal' self.

Marianne:

- As you might imagine, she needs a lot of assurance that you're sure you want to be with her- it simply seems too good to be true, when she harbors so many deeply seeded doubts about herself. With a good amount of encouragement though, she's a very loyal and affectionate partner. She's great at remembering birthdays, anniversaries and the like, always putting her whole heart into finding just the right token to show you the strength of her feelings. She'll also do her best to say it aloud, but she tends to murmur and stutter her way through her attempts- at least until a good while into the relationship.

- in a sort of cat-like way, her main way of showing her affection is to simply be near you (though of course, she asks over and over whether it bothers you to have her around). She loves to spend time quietly together, resting her head on your shoulder or your lap. The cutest thing is that, when you're relaxing together like this, if you brush her bangs aside and kiss her forehead, or simply smile warmly at her and tell her something simple and sweet, like how lovely her eyes are- and she just melts. Her face burns bright crimson, and she'll try to hide behind her hands, but it's obvious she's just overwhelmingly flattered.

Dorothea:

- Being with Dorothea is sometimes like dating a celebrity- you're asked for details about her and your relationship with her all the time, and you're considered more of a catch simply for being with her. She is, of course, aware of all of this, and simply rolls her eyes at the attention. For as glamorous as she seems, and as 'wild' as others assume your relationship must be, Dorothea actually has a rather classic idea of how relationships go. She enjoys all of the sweet little gestures and day-to-day expressions of affection- even just casually holding hands as you walk through town, or taking a bite of a pastry you hold out for her over tea.

- It's going to take a lot to make Dorothea feel secure enough to truly settle down with one person. It's always been her ultimate goal, of course, and her feelings for you are true and strong- but she's so accustomed to being self sufficient and independent. Best practice is to assure her that she's still more than welcome to exercise that independence as much as it suits her, and that you'll always be there when she does need your support. That level of understanding is a huge comfort to her. Perhaps paradoxically, knowing that she's free to do as she likes actually makes her far more willing to compromise here and there, and be giving and generous to her partner.

NSFW 18+ v

Mostly Gender Neutral, some AMAB

Hilda:

- It might not be a surprise that Hilda loves being coddled and spoiled in bed- but her absolute favorite is receiving oral. Her clit is very sensitive, and going down on her will have her moaning blissfully and arching up from the bed. If you're really devoted, it won't take long to learn how to get her to squirt like this. Pressing the flat of your tongue firmly to her clit and pulsing against her, moaning as you hold onto her thighs make her cum hard, her vision going white as she whimpers out your name.

- In general, Hilda likes to be with a soft dom. She likes a lover who takes the lead and directs her, but isn't too demanding or harsh, instead cooing to her about what a good girl she is for you, how wonderful her body feels, how cute she is when she moans your name. Her favorite position is to have you fucking her from behind with her lower body propped up on a pillow- and with time, she even discovers that she loves having you grab a hand full of her hair and tug on it while you thrust into her. It's a gorgeous view as well, since she has a nicely defined but plump ass that bounces beautifully against you as you buck into her.

- Hilda is quite fond of cockwarming and similar kinks, and the occasional slow, lazy love-making session with you spooning her in bed as your hips sway against her. She likes this relaxing, low-pressure way of feeling intimate with you, and given her clit is so sensitive, it's not like she requires a huge amount of stimulation to cum. She'll gladly spend a night in bed casually chatting as you slide into her and just savor the warmth of her wet cunt swallowing you.

Marianne:

- You're likely to be her first sexual partner, and it's going to take a long while for her to even feel comfortable exposing herself to you. With enough reassurance and a lot of pre-sex fooling around (one night you may just touch each other a bit while making out, then she may be comfortable with your fingers the next time, and so on), she eventually gains the confidence to realize that you do truly want her, and she wants you dearly as well. Eventually, the trust itself becomes oddly arousing to her, and while it will take a long time to discover this, she actually adores being blindfolded while you take your time touching and savoring her body. Being forced to focus so intently on physical sensation clears her mind of her anxieties.

- Marianne is surprisingly vocal in bed, though she doesn't want to be. It's honestly adorable, the way her hands cling to the sheets or to your body, her face a bright pink as she bites on her lip to stifle an adoring moan. Even light touches down the small of her back or up the curve of her inner thigh cause her to catch her breath, looking up at you adoringly with those big, shining eyes. Trying to hold back her moans is something she's not likely to 'grow out of' with experience, but she's so precious when her eyes roll back and she's whining and whimpering just to keep from crying out your name, it's hard to be upset about it.

Dorothea:

- Dorothea knows what she's doing, and she knows it- and she knows that she's tempting. While not an outright Dom by default (though she can definitely be encouraged into that role and she takes to it marvelously), she is confident and direct in bed. She'll smirk as she straddles your hips and runs her hands down your body, commenting on how she just can't wait to see you completely cut loose. In particular, she loves when you try to play cool and act as though she's not driving you mad with desire, only to fall apart as she pleasures you, gasping her name and leaning into her touch, or even breaking your sense of restraint and pinning her to the mattress to ravage her.

- She's not terribly loud in bed, much more likely to whisper sweet, sultry flattery into your ear. When she does let out an earnest moan, it's luxurious and lustful, almost song-like in its own right. Dorothea is also not shy about telling you what she likes or about trading notes on different positions or kinks you may want to try. She knows that everyone has unique desires, and she sees sex as both a bonding experience for the two of you, and as something that should be fun and easily enjoyed by you both.

- Dorothea loves giving tit-jobs and she is incredible at them. Even if you're just using a strap, she loves showing off her body to you, watching the expression of awe, admiration and a touch of disbelief as she puts on a lewd show of bouncing her breasts around your length. Her technique is impressive, and she's good enough at reading people that she'll easily figure out what you like best. Do you want to see the tip of your length pushing up from her cleavage, or would you prefer the warmth of her lips around your tip? How tight do you like her to squeeze her tits around you, and what pace gets you panting and bucking against her? She'll have you figured out in no time.

[indigowallbreaker]

That ask got me thinking:

Dimitri stepped out of the changing room, tugging at his new clothes and already feeling his skin burn under the summer sun. “How is this?”

Eyes tinted behind colored glasses, Sylvain looked Dimitri up and down, one hand tapping his chin and the other holding a drink. Dimitri fidgeted even more under his gaze. That Sylvain was looking at him so closely... Dimitri swallowed.

“Hm.” Sylvain shook his head. “Not great, honestly.”

“You cannot seriously expect me to wear less?”

“Could you at least ditch the hat?”

Dimitri touched the woven brim. “But it is so hot...”

Sylvain sighed. “Look, you asked me to help you relax, your Highness. The beach in this world is the best place for that. And to fit in at the beach, you are definitely going to have do better that this.” He gestured at Dimitri as a whole.

It was true that Dimitri’s idea of summer attire hardly matched Sylvain’s. While Sylvain seemed at ease in two toned swim trunks and sandals, Dimitri wore a blue and white stripped button down shirt, tan shorts, and a sun hat. If Sylvain wore clothes like this more often, Dimitri was sure he would never get anything done-- how would he find time between staring and reprimanding himself for staring?

Sylvain stepped forward and tugged at his shirt. “Could you at least unbutton a few of these?”

Dimitri undid the top two buttons. “L-Like this?” 

“More.”

Another button.

“More.”

A fourth button.

Sylvain crossed his arms, keeping a tight hold on the drink. “I get the feeling you’re not taking this seriously.”

Dimitri, frustrated, grabbed both sides of his shirt and pulled. Buttons went flying across the boardwalk. Sylvain’s face split in a wide grin. “That’s more like it!” He praised.

The regret was instantaneous. A salty breeze made Dimitri keenly aware of how much skin Sylvain could now see. He tried to position the shirt to cover more of his chest but Sylvain grabbed his wrist. “Nope, that’s perfect. Don’t change a thing! Tits out, your Highness!”

Dimitri produced an embarrassing squeak, cleared his throat, and tried again. “W-What? I don’t have-- That is, why would you say--”

“It’s what Hilda says. Speaking of!” Sylvain let go to take Dimitri by the shoulder instead. “I’ve recruited her and a few others to help us out today. Let’s not keep them waiting!”

Ah, of course. Who better than Hilda to teach Dimitri the art of not working? Dimitri allowed Sylvain to lead him down to the beach. Several other Heroes in various warm-weather outfits dotted the sand, and they waved as Sylvain and Dimitri passed. 

“Hey, Hilda! I got him!” Dimitri had been so busy staring around that he hadn’t noticed Sylvain had found Hilda. Looking ahead, Dimitri felt his heart stop. There was Hilda, yes-- wearing sunglasses bigger than Sylvain’s and toting a pink parasol. But beside her was Marianne. 

She too held a parasol. Her middle was exposed and she wore a long flowing blue skirt held up by gold and white belts. When their eyes met, Marianne smiled. “It’s good to see you, Dimitri.”

Dimitri, for his part, was much too afraid he would make that squeaking sound again, so he simply smiled in return. Sylvain was louder. “There you go, Marianne! That’s a good smile!” She covered her mouth in a giggle. 

“Alright, let’s see what I’m working with here.” Hilda unwound her arm from Marianne’s to do a circle around Dimitri. He resisted the urge to mess with his shirt, sure she would also stop him. “Not too bad. You’ve even got your tits out! I’m not sure about the hat though. Mercedes pulls it off great but you...”

“M-Mercedes is here as well?” Dimitri chose to ignore the other half of her sentence.

“She’s getting a frozen treat,” Marianne said, pointing down the beach. Sure enough, Mercedes was in line wearing a hat larger than Dimitri’s, and, Dimitri could see from this distance, a rather low-cut top. He gulped. 

Hilda clapped her hands. “Let’s get started. What do you want to try first? We could sit by the shore with our feet in the water, or lay down in the sand, or nap under an umbrella, or--”

“Is that all you do to relax?” Dimitri interrupted. “You just sit?”

Sylvain snorted. “You can’t relax running around.”

“Unless you’re Leonie or Caspar,” Hilda huffed in clear irritation. “Those two haven’t stopped running around since they arrived!”

“There you all are!” The familiar voice made Dimitri’s head whip around. Once again, he was mentally thrown. Running up to them was Ashe wearing a short sleeved blue hoodie, patterned swim shorts, sandals that strapped at the shin, a basket filled with fish around his waist, and a grin brighter than the summer sun itself. “Look what I was able to catch! We should have a cookout this-- Your Highness!!” 

Ashe ground to a stop in the sand. Though he had arguably more clothes on than Dimitri, it still didn’t feel appropriate to stare at Ashe like this. Dimitri solved the problem by looking abruptly down at the fish. “Hello, A-Ashe.”

“I didn’t know you were coming! I’m glad I caught so many fish now.”

An arm looped around Dimitri’s neck. “We’re trying to get Dimitri here to relax,” Hilda explained. “He’s got the look down but now we need to pick something to do.”

“Ah, if you’re going to spend time outside like this, your Highness, you should use this.” Always so genuine and kind. Dimitri felt calm enough to look up now, smiling softly as Ashe pulled something from his belt. “It’s a salve to protect your skin from the sun! I can help you put it on, if you like.”

Any cool Dimitri had gathered back fled once more at the suggestion. “N-No! It is fine. I should be able to apply it myself!”

“Oh.” Ashe frowned. “Are you sure? If you’re not comfortable with me, we could find Professor Byleth to do it. I saw her in the water earlier.”

To his horror, Dimitri let out another of those squeaks. Hilda broke into laughter, head thrown back and parasol over her shoulder. Ashe and Marianne looked concerned but Sylvain took Dimitri by the hand before he could even attempt to explain. “Let’s get you a drink. That should be a better starting point.” He grinned at the others. “We’ll be right back!”

“Thank you,” Dimitri said once they were out of ear shot. His voice was still high as a result of Sylvain’s hand in his-- but even that was more of a comfort than point of stress at the moment. “I was... not prepared for that.”

Sylvain chuckled. “No worries. The women from our world sure are cute, huh? Ashe and Caspar are a treat too!”

“You look good as well, Sylvain.” It needed to be said, even if nerves wrapped around Dimitri’s throat. “This weather suits you.”

The hand in Dimitri’s tightened ever so slightly before Sylvain laughed again. “It’s the tits.” He joked. “Anyway, you should see Dorothea, she looks amazing. And there’s this guy Rhys who’s not hard to look at either.”

Sylvain continued to list the people he’d met as he lead Dimitri to a booth selling colorful drinks. The whole time, he held Dimitri’s hand as if it were an everyday thing for them. As if they always found themselves in another world, tits out, discussing drinks and swimsuits under the hot sun. Perhaps the day would not be the most relaxing-- but Dimitri was certain he would create many good memories this summer.

(inspiration for Dimitri’s outfit from Cosumosu who I’m too scared to @ bc then they’ll know how big a crush I have on their art)

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I love your book reviews under the banner ‘Treat Your S(h)elf’ - nice play on words. You have such a wide and cultured range of interests that I really learn something new. Do you read poetry? What are your favourite poets? What are you currently reading?

I love reading poetry because as the poet Robert Frost put it succinctly, “Poetry is when emotion has found its thought, and thought has found words”.

Poets are before anything else in the words of W.H. Auden, “a person who is madly in love with language” and language is the bedrock of any culture and society and ultimately civilisation. When you truly think about it, poetry is meaningless when it has been left to gather dust on a piece of paper. It is simply a memory of an idea conjured up by a writer with something to say. Poetry must be read, it needs to be experienced because it keeps these ideas burning. These meaningful concepts about the nature of life, death and everything. Every time a person reads a poem, a new bright spark emerges in that person’s head. A new way of thinking, a new way of understanding. That is exactly why poetry must be read because it is the essence of our language.

The reasons I personally read poetry, you ask? Here are some reasons I can think of from the top of my head others are too personal to reveal:

I read poetry because poetry is thoughts that breathe and words that burn. And I read poetry because it is what happens when my mind stops working , and for a moment, all I do is feel. This is good therapy for me as I’m not the most openly emotional or prone to displays of emotion in public. It’s just not how I was built. Poetry helps one to feel. So some poems remain so close to my heart.

I remember when I was about to go on my first tour to Afghanistan I was quite calm and cold blooded because that was and is my nature. My father - who served with distinction in uniform like his father and grand father, and great-grandfather before him - was always proud and supportive of me being the black sheep of the family as the only girl in our family going through Sandhurst and now I was off to the last embers of a war in Afghanistan that everyone had forgotten about. He was concerned - like the rest of my family - like any loving parent about what might happen. But he didn’t question my professionalism or my abilities so he didn’t give me that lecture instead he thrust in my hand both classical literature (Thucydides and Homer in particular) and the works of selected poets. He told me poetry will save your life. He wasn’t anxious about my physical safety he was thinking about my soul. For what happens during war and what comes after if and when I come home. Long story short: poetry saved my life.

By nature I am restless to an incredible annoying degree. I fear being bored. I find it hard to sit and be idle. Poetry is my balm for boredom.

I am incredibly busy and I work punishing long hours. Time is premium. People make demands on me and my time. Poems are like super-condensed stories, and are therefore usually short enough to be read over your morning tea/coffee. In this fast-paced world we live in, sometimes poems are a better alternative to reading fully-fledged novels, or even short stories and poetry gives you the chance to continue to expand your literary horizons even during the busiest times in your life. And becoming more widely read is an incredible way to ensure you are continuously growing, and learning, while becoming a more cultured individual at the same time. There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you and when I read some of those beautiful pieces of poetry by my favourite poets it's like the paper is filled with the breathings of my heart.

The most frightening thing is people I know stop growing culturally after they leave university and get on with the business of life i.e. careers, marriage and family. Once on that treadmill they don’t or can’t stop. They are unable to step off and take a breath. Poetry gives you a breather and helps you to re-centre your priorities.  The more you read poetry, the greater your quest for knowledge awakens. Doorways will open inside your mind and unlock your hidden potential for a greater understanding of life. Anyone who reads poetry often can connect with this conclusive sentence formation that defines your very questionable outlook on life.

I also believe poetry allows us to be less rigid in our thinking with an authentic, personal touch. When I read poems, nothing is often straightforward. Every poem has a meaning hiding under it, but it is blocked by a myriad of literary devices such as metaphors and symbolism. It is important to be able to think more figuratively because it allows you to understand ideas and perspectives in a more abstract and possibly more meaningful way. Sometimes I find that having a single page of beautifully crafted words can be enough of a distraction to spark a sudden creative leap in my brain. There have been many times where I've miraculously thought of ways to solve a problem (big or small) purely because reading poetry forced me to think differently from the usual day-to-day thoughts required for general life.

Poetry is best read when you’re hidden from the outside world, in a quiet little spot, somewhere away from all the hustle and bustle. It is increasingly hard to do just that. I have so many demands on my time and limited space but I force myself to carve out the time and space to do this - one must try. As a rule I switch off all social media (not that I have many to begin with but most definitely my phone). The best time for me to carve out time is when I’m traveling as I’m able to shut out everything around me. Usually when I’m waiting for a flight in the business class departure lounge it’s quiet and not too many people to distract me and there is usually a delay to the flight. When I check into a hotel I feel a disconnect to the world around me. I feel like an alien. Poetry helps me to connect again. Poetry calms and focuses the mind. With poetry I can almost reset my day because it’s not just a time zone I have to get used to but also a state of mind - and especially if I find myself being unproductive too!

I often escape Paris and go into the countryside. I love going on walks, hikes, mountaineering, and other outdoor pursuits. It allows me the space and time to read poetry and reflect in peace. And of course I snatch time before I go to sleep to read a poem if I am not too tired.

The point is that I need the head space to absorb the poem and take some time to work out the meaning of the full entity. I try not swallow a whole book in one sitting, instead I read a few poems and leave the book until the next day or a few days depending on my schedule. Sometimes, you can read a poem again and you will find other meanings or pick up on information that you couldn’t see before. That’s poetry, you create the film, journey or picture inside your mind from reading the words on the page.

As for my favourite poets this is of course is a very personal choice. I didn’t read English at university but rather my academic interests were Classics and History, so I profess a very paltry poetic palate. Still, I’m grateful to those friends more versed than I to point me to other poets. So I do my best to keep an open mind and try and read poetry recommended by others or some thing that captures my eye when I browse through book stores or read it as a passing reference in a book I am reading. 

Different poets and poems are discovered at one stage of life and where I happened to live in the world and only take on another meaning when re-read them at another stage. So I tend to re-visit poets I used to read as a teen and then see how it resonates now.

The majority of my poetic readings are in my native English and Norwegian languages but because I have varying degrees of fluency in other languages (because I grew up there for instance) I love widening my poetic palate. One of my regrets is not knowing Japanese and Chinese to a sufficient degree to really read poetry in those languages even if I have basic fluency in literature and everyday conversation. So reading Ezra Pound is one way in English to appreciate these Eastern poetic influences. I’m also ashamed to admit that I only know a woeful smattering of words in Scotiish Gaelic - my Anglo-Scots father knows it fairly well but even he struggles - and really I must find time in the future to learn more of it because it’s such a fascinating language (not least because it’s also dying out and that is tragic).

So below is an eclectic and random list from the top of my head and in no real order of preference:

• Homer (Greek) • Sappho (Greek) • Rumi (Farsi) • Mirza Ghalib (Urdu and Farsi) • John Milton • John Donne • William Shakespeare • Dante (Italian) • Robert Burns • William Wordsworth • Samuel Taylor Coleridge • William Blake • John Keats • Emily Dickinson • Christina Rosetti • Gerald Manley Hopkins • Walt Whitman • Oscar Wilde • W.B. Yeats • Rudyard Kipling • Wilfred Owen • Alfred Tennyson • Rainer Maria Rilke (German) • Cavafy (Greek) • T.S. Eliot • Hilda Doolittle • Marianne Moore • Sylvia Plath • W. H. Auden • Olaf H. Hauge (Norwegian) • Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (Norwegian) • Aslaug Vaa (Norwegian) • Rolf Jacobsen (Norwegian) • Sarojini Naidu (Hindi) • Gulzar (Hindi)

Living in Paris I tend to read more French poetry these days. By osmosis it helps me appreciate the French language and French culture even more.

• Charles Baudelaire. • Paul Verlaine • Jacques Prévert • Arthur Rimbaud • Alphonse de Lamartine • Alfred de Musset • Paul Valéry • Paul Eluard • Jean Genet • Françoise Villon

Poetry is an art that combines the essence of life through the fabrication of reality. Poets challenge and nourish me with their wisdom, philosophy, love and journeys beyond what used to be the limits of my own creative imagination. They push my boundaries ever so more. In doing so they grow my mind for understanding, my heart for empathy, and my soul for wisdom. It would hard to disagree with Robert Frost who sums up what poetry means to me, “a poem begins in delight, and ends in Wisdom”.

Thanks for your question

[iturbide]

Oh, 12 would be a great one for Claude and, really, any of the Golden Deer. Like, when he opens up to them that he’s Almyran, they want to show him that he’s more than welcome and he’ll always be their trusted leader and beloved friend. Maybe they organize a mounted archery contest? Tending to wyverns? I recall Claude enjoying a celebration in Almyra that was a ceremonial dance around a huge fire (my memory is a bit fuzzy, I am embarrassed to say as a Claude lover). I bet you have some ideas!

You know you’re right any of the Golden Deer would be great

so since i can’t pick why not all of them

12. Following their family traditions that they enjoy. 

“Lady Judith!!”

She stopped, touching her rapier as she turned toward the sound of running steps…and relaxed, folding her arms over her chest as seven mismatched fighters came stumbling to a halt before her.  She recognized them, of course: it would be hard not to, given that they were all generals in the Alliance army now, not to mention Claude’s old housemates from his days at Garreg Mach.  “Should I be worried?” she asked.

“Did you know Claude’s Almyran!?” Raphael asked excitedly.

Some aunt she’d be, if she didn’t.  But she only quirked a brow politely and nodded.  “I did.”

“Why did you never make mention of that!?” Lorenz demanded.

It was hard to keep her hand off her sword.  “What does it matter where he came from, boy?” she shot back.

“It matters a lot!!” Leonie insisted, hands fisted at her sides.

“He’s been here in the Alliance for, what, six years?” Hilda ventured, counting off on her fingers.  Seven, in truth, though Judith made no effort to correct her.  “And this whole time he’s never had any way to see his family!  I’d be a wreck if I couldn’t go home once in a while to visit my father and brother.”

“He must have been so lonely, all this time,” Marianne murmured, folding her hands, “being so far from home, with nothing to remember it by…”

…well this had certainly taken a different turn than she expected.  “What are you saying, exactly?”

“Claude’s been working so hard, trying to keep us ahead of the Empire, making sure the Alliance has what it needs to survive and win – the least we can do is show we appreciate it,” Lysithea huffed.

“And, well, what better way than trying to make him feel at home?” Ignatz added, adjusting his glasses.  “Only…none of know all that much about Almyra.  I heard from Cyril once that it has vast open plains, but…I doubt I could capture a likeness without having seen it myself.”

“My brother collects battle standards from skirmishes at the Locket, but that’s not much to go on where fashion and decoration are concerned, either,” Hilda sighed.

“We were hoping you might know more,” Leonie said.  “I mean, if you knew Claude’s Almyran, maybe you know what it’s like there.  What kind of food they have, that sort of thing.”

“With the Empire so close, we know he can’t go home, but…maybe if we could bring a little bit of home to him…” Mariane ventured.

“So will you help us out, Lady Judith?” Raphael asked.  “Please?”

Judith smiled, running a hand back through her hair.  Lucky Claude, having friends like these at his back.  “Well, I can’t claim to know much,” she cautioned, “but I’ll gladly tell you everything I can.”

///

Claude sighed, rubbing his eyes as the ink started to blur on the page.  It was getting hard to stay focused, which usually meant it was time to get up and go do something else…but things had been weird lately.  Tense, in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  His old housemates from the Golden Deer had been acting extra flighty, giving him a wide berth every time they happened to cross paths and making excuses whenever he tried to talk with them before beating a hasty retreat.  Even Hilda, who usually loved shirking her chores to take breaks with him, had waved him off twice, saying she was in the middle of something (despite all evidence to the contrary).

It hadn’t been this way before Fort Merceus.  But then, nobody had known about his Almyran heritage, either.

Raking his hands through his hair, he leaned back so far that his seat threatened to tip over.  He’d been so certain that if anyone could bridge the divide between Fodlan and Almyra, it was his old house…and it hurt to realize that his secrecy at the academy had been justified.  

Admittedly, none of this was what he’d wanted to focus on while he stepped back from his Enbarr siege tactics.

A knock came at the door, and he tipped his chair forward, sprawling across the map.  “Come in,” he mumbled.

He wasn’t actually sure if he’d been loud enough to hear.  But the door opened anyway, and Judith came striding in, grinning ear to ear.  “You busy?”

“Kind of,” he grumbled.

“Too bad,” she replied.  “Even Master Tacticians need breaks, and you look like you could use one.”

“Please don’t call me that,” he groaned.

“Would you rather I call you ‘boy’?”

“Like you do to Lorenz?  No, thank you,” he scoffed, shoving himself more or less upright and trying to ignore the chorus of pops that accompanied his stretch; if his own regret at sitting too long weren’t bad enough, her glare only compounded it.

“You definitely need a break,” she declared.  Any stronger and it would have been an order.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed.  “I need to check on the wyverns anyway.”

“That sounds like more work,” she warned.

“At least I won’t be hunched over a desk, though, right?”

“That’s not the point.”

“You didn’t say what kind of break I needed.”

“Smart-ass,” she snorted, hooking his arm in hers and dragging him out the door, away from the stairs leading up to the roof where the wyverns had taken roost and toward the gate leading out of the fort they’d occupied on the march toward Enbarr.  The rain that had forced their stop had long-since passed, but the dry ground and the clear skies above promised that they’d be free to resume the march with the sunrise.  It would be a perfect night for stargazing, if he could escape Judith–

The aroma of wild garlic and roast fish almost knocked him off his feet.  As it was, only Judith’s hold on his arm kept him stumbling in the right direction.  There was a bright blaze visible through the trees, too big to be a campfire…and as they broke through the undergrowth, he realized it was a bonfire – a small one, filling the clearing with the sweet scent of cedar smoke.  “What is this?” he asked.

“What’s it look like?” Judith grinned.

“It looks like I’m dreaming,” he replied, rubbing his eyes with the heel of one hand.

“Well, I can assure you that it’s real,” she laughed.  “Now you’d better hurry up if you want to eat, I don’t know how long they can hold Raphael off.”

As if on cue, Hilda appeared at his side, grabbing hold of his other arm.  “Thanks, Lady Judith!” she giggled, dragging him toward the fire.  “We were starting to worry you’d never show up!”

“…did I miss something?” he asked.

She didn’t answer with anything but a smile.  But as the firelight drove the darkness back, he realized that she was wearing a sash not so different from his own, complete with bright patterns and dangling ornaments.  As the rest of the Golden Deer gathered around, he realized they all had them, the traditional green and gold accented with different colors for each of them.  And they were all looking at him, waiting for him to speak.

He couldn’t find words for a minute.  He just stared at them, every one of them smiling (even Lorenz!) and bearing familiar traces of his homeland.  “What is this?” he asked again.

“It’s a party!” Raphael laughed.

“A celebration,” Lysithea corrected.

“Lady Judith told us about an Almyran fire festival,” Ignatz added, adjusting his glasses.  “We couldn’t find everything she mentioned, but we tried to get as close as we could.”

“I got the food together,” Leonie beamed.  “Spent most of today fishing and foraging and cooking, and I think it all turned out pretty great.”

“Sure did,” Raph agreed.  “I got to taste test after I got the fire going!”

“I didn’t have enough time to make whole outfits,” Hilda sighed, “but I at least managed to make sashes for everybody.  I tried to base it off yours, but I’ve never seen you take yours off, so I had to do a little guess-work.”

“But…but what is it for?” Claude asked, still hopelessly confused.

“It’s for you,” Marianne replied, playing with her sash.  “You’ve been working so hard lately, preparing for Enbarr…we wanted to thank you.”

“And what better way than by giving you something from home?” Lysithea asked.

Claude couldn’t stop the smile from creeping across his own face.  “…did Judith happen to mention that the Festival of Fire is part of the New Year celebration?”

They all stopped and looked nervously at one another.  “I…can’t seem to recall,” Lorenz replied awkwardly. 

“I’ve gotta say, you couldn’t have picked a better celebration,” Claude beamed.  “The Festival of Fire always precedes the New Year festivities.  It’s about burning away problems and bad luck so that we can go into the New Year without worries to drag us down.  Andwe’re working our way toward a new dawn, aren’t we?  One free from Imperial rule.  This’ll make sure we come at the battle free of any burdens.”

Their anxiety melted away as he spoke, and by the time he finished their smiles were brighter than the bonfire.  “Will you tell us more about it?” Ignatz asked eagerly.  “The festival, and the New Year?”

“Of course I will – I’ll even teach you how to jump the bonfire without setting yourself on fire,” he winked.  “Thank you all.  This is…amazing.”

“We’re glad you like it,” Hilda giggled.  “It’s the least we could do for you.”

If this was their least, he couldn’t help but wonder what else they might have done.  This was already more than he’d expected.  More than he’d ever thought to ask for.  And as Leonie led the way around the fire to the blankets laid out with a feast fit for an Almyran table, he felt the warmth of their company burn away all his old fears.

50 Wordless Ways to Say ‘I Love You’