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stergeon · 3 months

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can someone please write this doropetra fashion designer/journalist modern au for me. i spent too long thinking about the devil wears prada today and now i have all the beats mapped out for this story i Do Not have enough time in the world to write.

please help. please. i'll give you everything. all of it. it's all right here. take it. mention me if you swap the names to sell the movie or streaming rights. i just want it to exist.

pitch: dorothea is a hot-nasty fashion mogul and petra is a journalist-turned-reluctant model who captures dorothea's attention (and her heart).

btw this is a Really long post so look out. also i know nothing about the fashion industry and Will Not Learn so don't tell me anything.

setting: various major cities in the USA. NYC, LA, Enbarr (you know, Enbarr, that major city somewhere between florida and texas. we've all been there).

cast

most everybody is in their mid-to-late 20s at the start.

petra: the last journalist with integrity in a world that's actively trying to eliminate journalism as a field. worked her ass off writing listicles and bullshit SEO articles for years until she caught a break and got in with a "Real Publication." she now works her ass off there. unfortunately there's rumors of her team getting laid off due to AI crap so she's stressed af trying to line up her next gig, just in case.

dorothea: hotshot young fashion mogul with a cult of personality around her. was a complete unknown barely out of college when she designed manuela casagranda's absolutely breathtaking met gala dress and her company blew up overnight. now does high-profile lines that are popular with movie star types and bougie social media influencers. notorious for being very, very friendly with her preferred models.

edelgard: petra's finance major/arts minor friend from college and her former roommate. nepo baby with Lots of connections. got petra her first big job writing PR crap for a division of the hresvelg business empire. caused a scandal by getting romantically involved with her TA (byleth) in grad school but they're still together. complains about her PA (hubert) and her lout of a stepbrother (dimitri), both of whom she's constantly texting or otherwise having to corral.

shamir: petra's boss/editor. admires petra's guts and her writing chops, as well as her ambition. somewhat of a mentor to petra, but is absolutely no-nonsense when it comes to work. she's been in this business a long time. there's no fucking around. leonie is another journo on the team. ignatz and linhardt also work with them doing layouts, formatting, and photo/video editing.

manuela: a famous singer from dorothea's hometown who basically adopted dorothea as a protégé after dorothea sent her sketches of designs she'd made. essentially responsible for dorothea's career. they have a bit of a contentious relationship these days as manuela's a bit jealous of dorothea's rising star and because dorothea's been ungrateful in recent years despite how much manuela's stuck her neck out for her. still, she's always there to give dorothea terrible advice when she needs it. her evolving relationship with dorothea is kind of a b-plot.

bernadetta: a reclusive, but well-connected social justice blogger and internet activist. one of petra's good buddies who regularly sends her scoops.

ingrid, ferdinand, sylvain, catherine, felix: models who commonly work with dorothea.

Jeritza: a nobody fashion photographer who thinks he's somebody. he's absolutely awful.

claude and hilda: paparazzi who work for tmz, buzzfeed, whoever will take em. petra thinks they are the scum of the earth. they are.

act 1

we open with petra on yet another bullshit assignment for her crappy job writing articles about things that don't matter. this one is a profile piece about a local fashion photographer, the mononymous Jeritza, who might be somebody someday and seems to think he already is. leonie was supposed to do the article but she flubbed it by offending Jeritza, who now won't give her the time of day, so shamir asks petra to please step in last-minute. petra's mad, but she gets her hustle on and goes anyway. it's not like she can be too picky with gigs in this economy.

by the time she gets to the shoot, she's late, and Jeritza is throwing a tantrum. the model isn't working out. Jeritza cannot work in these conditions. Jeritza fires the model and is about to freak the fuck out when petra walks in the door. oh, Jeritza says. i can work with you. petra did NOT sign up to be a model, has never wanted to be a model, has no interest in this whatsoever. but let's be real: it is a great angle for the piece. this could get clicks. shares, even. so she does it.

the shoot is a massive success, which is to say Jeritza is delighted with the results, but as it's just for a local streetwear company, the impact on culture is negligible. petra writes her article, which gets some attention due to the very funny portrait it paints of the histrionic artiste that is Jeritza. it's not much buzz, but it's just enough buzz to get shared around in fashion circles—enough for it to wind up in dorothea's inbox, courtesy of manuela. "Thought of you!! XD XD This is so funny!!" manuela writes. dorothea replies "lol" and is about to move on with her day when she decides to give the article a courtesy skim and scrolls down far enough to see the pictures.

oh. who is that model?

a few days later, petra's out at a bar getting drinks with edelgard and bitching about life when she gets a call from an unknown number. she figures it's probably spam, but they leave a voicemail. the transcription mentions it's from a dorothea arnault, whoever that is. edelgard almost shits a brick. DOROTHEA ARNAULT? you need to call her back. right now. petra's like okay jeez, i will. what's the big deal. edelgard facepalms. she forgot that petra doesn't follow fashion even a little bit ("isn't the gucci, like, the area between your butthole and your—?" "no petra it is not"). embarrassing for her, but there's no saving some people.

edelgard briefs her on the arnault situation. dorothea's studio is huge right now. edelgard's family business has been sponsoring some of her recent fashion shows and everybody who's anybody is trying to get an arnault outfit for their next event. while dorothea's very popular on social media, she's very tight-lipped about her private life. a profile on her could be a huge break for petra.

okay, petra thinks, what the fuck, okay. i'll call her back.

dorothea picks up on the fifth ring. uh-oh: she sounds hot.

hel-looo, miss macneary, she says, it's nice of you to pick up the phone. i saw that little article you wrote recently. you're sooooo funny. [her voice is sweet and smooth like butter. she sounds like she's twirling her hair as she talks. she doesn't say how she got petra's number. petra doesn't think to ask.] and those photos of you... my, my. you're quite the looker, aren't you? and you don't even model professionally? that's a terrible shame. you'd do well, you know. i'm in berlin right now but i'll be in enbarr's fashion district on tuesday afternoon. why don't you come by the studio? we're doing a shoot for some designs i'm releasing soon... a secret summer collection. oops, i shouldn't have told you about that, should i? well, i'm sure i can trust you to keep my secret. and maybe i could even trust you to write something nice about me? i think they'd suit you, you know, these new pieces i've got. if you have any interest in trying your hand at modeling again, i'd love to see you in them. 11 o'clock. ciao!

petra gets a handful of words in edgewise. most of them are yes. she keeps her phone held to her ear for too long after dorothea hangs up. she wishes she'd been sober for this conversation. she's not really sure what she just agreed to. she doesn't want to forget the sound of that voice.

she shoots a text to shamir. edelgard buys her a shot the instant she steps back into the bar.

tuesday comes and petra's nervous. she packed and repacked for this. checked twenty-five times that she brought her tape recorder and her good camera. arnault is gonna think that camera's a joke, but it is what it is. she's trying to play it cool, hyping herself up the whole time she's on the train. it's gonna be fine. just keep the tape rolling. write the profile. she doesn't have to model, she can just do what she does best. listen. pay attention. write honestly. move on.

sure.

if petra thought dorothea sounded hot, she's wholly unprepared for how hot she is in person. she's spellbinding. drop-dead gorgeous. positively unreal. and on top of that, she's so charming. she's graceful. smart. funny. flirty. and she keeps touching her—little touches on her hand, her arm. chaste things. friendly things. things that could be accidents.

she's exactly petra's type.

but petra is a journalist with integrity, dammit. she's going to be professional. and to her credit, she is professional. arnault makes it hard, but she manages. she blends in, listens, stays focused, stays out of the way. the model's cute—ingrid something-or-other. she can't remember but she got it on the tape recorder. told petra her instagram handle like six times, too, so she won't have any trouble finding her. the shoot is almost wrapped when dorothea asks if petra would be interested in modeling for her. she's not at all offended when petra politely declines. she poses when petra asks to take her photo for the profile. thanks her for coming out and talking to her. says goodbye with a polite handshake and that dazzling smile. she thinks about that smile and that touch throughout the whole train ride home.

skip ahead to friday. petra is working on the story and transcribing the audio recording when she gets a text from dorothea. so lovely meeting you on tuesday [heart emoji] [kiss emoji] [heart emoji] i know it's last minute, but the final pieces of the summer collection are coming in tomorrow and i think you'll like them for your profile. i'll fly you up tomorrow morning to meet me at my studio in manhattan, unless you're busy, of course~

petra is not busy tomorrow. shamir is considering opening a new style division of their publication.

the flight is the train ride but worse. keep the tape rolling, macneary. listen. pay attention. write honestly. move on.

she's resolute. committed. her resolve doesn't waver even when she gets off the plane, ready to call an uber, and there's a guy in a suit with a sign that says MACNEARY on it. it doesn't waver when the guy stops her and says no, he's not looking for another macneary, he's here for her, courtesy of ms. arnault. it doesn't waver throughout the ride—the chauffeured ride, in a fancy car, just her and the guy—from jfk through the streets of nyc, seeing the skyline she's only ever known from movies and on tv. it doesn't waver when she's escorted into a skyscraper in the garment district and guided up to the floor where ms. arnault is waiting for her.

it wavers when she sees her. when dorothea says her model couldn't make it that day and she could really, really use petra's help, it falls completely.

you can guess how the rest of that trip goes. petra barely remembers it herself. she gets back home to enbarr, trying to recover from the whirlwind week she's had by doing what she does best—working. she can scarcely believe any of it was real. she has to believe it when she gets back to her shithole apartment, sets to the task of transcribing the audio from her tape recorder, and realizes it was rolling the whole time.

the whole time.

and there's absolutely no denying any of it after dorothea sends her the photos for her review.

you look so good in these, she tells petra when she sends her the first photoset. i think you look better out of them, she says when she sends the second.

petra considers her options. considers freaking out. considers not replying. considers moving to australia. she considers and reconsiders and does none of those things.

what she does do is send dorothea the audio recording. dorothea sends her some photos of her own.

they meet up again in LA on the day the profile drops.

act 2

if that first week was a whirlwind, the summer is a hurricane. petra's being lauded for the quality of her profile on dorothea, as well as for being the only member of the press who can get close to ms. arnault. it's borderline scandalous, how she's also modeling the summer line despite not even being a real model. it's a thinly-guised affair—almost completely un-guised when their flirting gets a little too overt during a show in tokyo. who cares. petra's entranced. dorothea takes her everywhere, her personal reporter, lavishing her with gifts, showing her the world. she's keeping her busy between all this travel and all this passion. they go to show after show, shoot after shoot; petra works her ass off, keeping the tape rolling, listening, paying attention. so what if she doesn't have time to answer shamir's texts right away the way she normally would. the website's getting more traffic than it ever has, carried by petra's inside scoop on the world of dorothea arnault. shamir can cut her a break.

and she's surprised by how much she likes dorothea. how much she likes spending time with her. dorothea's all the things petra thought she was: glamorous, bubbly, charismatic. but she's also so brilliant, so hard-working, busting her ass every single day of her life. and she's sweet, too. she lavishes petra with attention, gives her all kinds of little gifts and things—nothing too expensive as to make petra uncomfortable (the jetsetting is bad enough as-is), but small, practical things she actually likes and could use. she asks petra about herself almost as often as petra asks questions about her. it's not petra's job to talk beyond getting the conversation flowing, to put more of herself into the discussion than there needs to be to get dorothea to open up. she's here to listen. to pay attention. write honestly and move on.

but she's finding she doesn't really want to move on.

one night they're hanging out in dorothea's fancy hotel room eating room service and drinking wine when dorothea makes a crack about how little petra knows about fashion. petra admits that she really didn't intend to get into it, that it just kind of happened. that what she really wants to do is investigative work, writing about events, exposing corruption, that sort of thing. no offense to dorothea! it's been fun doing this, don't get her wrong, but she's got goals, other things she wants to do—once dorothea gets tired of her, she jokes. sort of jokes. dorothea laughs. she smiles at her and asks why she wanted to be a journalist.

and petra's honest again. honest like she hasn't been before. she tells her a little about her childhood, her family life. about growing up in brigid (you know, the country on planet earth) and moving to enbarr as a teenager after her father died. seeing her super-smart, brilliant mother and grandfather go from these auspicious jobs in their home country to shitty ones that just barely pay the bills here, all in the name of long-term security. how they taught her to work hard and always act with integrity, no matter what she's doing. she tells her about the struggles of learning a new language, how it made her become a good listener, how she fell in love with writing because it gives her time to think about her words, to express herself the way she wants to. she wanted to be a journalist to speak for those who can't raise their voices loud enough on their own.

dorothea smiles at her the whole time she's talking. petra's not used to being on this side of the table, to being listened to like this. she almost doesn't know how to handle it; she's apologizing, feeling embarrassed for having said so much, but dorothea says don't be sorry. that's beautiful. she's lucky to have such wonderful people in her life who love her and support her. and she likes hearing petra talk.

things are different after that night.

act 3

the start of the Drama Arc. the summer's coming to an end. petra and dorothea are still spending so much time together, jetsetting around the world. petra's working on a piece that's a backstage look at the arnault company's leadup to milan fashion week. the stress is getting Real and the cracks are starting to show. petra's missing deadlines, blowing off shamir, blowing off edelgard, blowing off her family. she's barely in enbarr these days, jetlagged to hell, lost between time zones. her pal bernadetta reaches out and says hey, there's something Big i'm working on that i could use help digging into, can you give me a hand? petra says sure, i'll take a look. she doesn't. she forgets somewhere between london and são paolo.

things are still hot between her and dorothea, but she's starting to see the cracks in her, too. she's getting to see more of her, more of what lies beneath all that glam and bubbly personableness. you don't go from being a nobody to a mogul in your 20s by being nice, and what petra slowly discovers is that dorothea isn't just not nice, she is ruthless. she's nonstop, working her ass off, and anyone who can't keep up with her gets left behind. she hints at her past sometimes: at her shitty childhood, at growing up in poverty, at being orphaned, at having spent years in foster care. but she never opens up. she's 100% focused on the future, and it's all she wants to talk about. dorothea wants to live her dreams, yes, but more importantly, her goal is self-preservation.

petra finds this out when they're at a shoot one day. petra's off to the side, fucking with her piece of shit camera when who storms up to her but ingrid, and she's pissed as shit. she chews petra out. calls her an asshole. says she stole her job. asks what the fuck is wrong with her, doing that while posting her articles, publicly announcing to the world that she never even wanted to be a model. petra's floored. she doesn't even know what she's talking about. she asks ingrid to start over.

that "second date" of theirs in manhattan, way back when? turns out dorothea was telling the truth when she said her model couldn't make it that day. ingrid was supposed to be modeling. she was dorothea's #1 for ages. she'd just come off back-to-back-to-back shoots when she got sick, really sick. stuck-in-shanghai-and-probably-not-going-to-be-able-to-board-a-flight-to-manhattan-tomorrow sick. she told dorothea so, said she'd try her best. dorothea said not to bother and didn't call her again.

it'll happen to you, too, ingrid tells petra, once you aren't useful to her. you're giving her all this press now, but if you ever do anything else, she'll drop you like she drops everyone else.

ingrid storms off, leaving petra standing there, holding her stupid camera. she looks at dorothea, standing across the room, running the show, correcting this and that, getting everything perfect, exactly the way she wants it. petra looks at her and wonders. wonders what would happen if she wrote something dorothea didn't like. if somebody new caught her eye.

they get dinner that night and it's tense. dorothea's stressed. she's carrying on about this and that, talking about the shoot, texting and responding to emails, slamming back glass after glass of wine. petra's quiet, letting her talk. too quiet, apparently, because dorothea eventually takes her head out of her phone and asks her what's up. nothing, petra says, just thinking about everything going on, about the shoot today. dorothea rolls her eyes. i know, she says; on top of everything else, ingrid was there, and she wanted to have a whole conversation with me, like i wasn't busy and like she didn't fuck me over the last time i saw her. she texted me earlier, too. the audacity of this bitch, she gripes, going back into her phone, still mad. a little later into dinner, manuela calls and dorothea answers it; she's bubbly and sweet, all hi how are you omg it's been so long, i miss you, sorry i've just been so busy~ i've gotta go but we'll catch up soon. she hangs up and shoots petra a look. she's so needy, dorothea says, laughing. petra tries to laugh too and can't quite manage.

they're still going everywhere together in the leadup to milan fashion week, and petra's still working on the piece, but she's feeling a little gross and she's quieter than ever. she lets herself believe that maybe it's fine, maybe it's okay, maybe she's not really that cold and ruthless. but then dorothea shows her one day.

everything's been going wrong: there's equipment stuck in customs, marketing materials haven't been delivered from the printers yet, the studio they rented for pre-shoots is double-booked. then a model's late to the shoot and another one is complaining and dorothea is done, so done. she fires them on the spot, gets on the phone and calls two new ones who will get the job done and done without question. petra's quiet. listening. paying attention. keeping the tape rolling as dorothea justifies herself aloud, without prompting. don't judge me, she says. i do what i have to do, and everyone else should, too. i know no one is going to take care of me. i've got no reason to take care of anyone else.

she's a mess all night. angry. stressed. shutting herself off. petra's seen her get like this a few times, but this is the worst it's ever been. she's in her phone all night. practically snaps at petra when she asks if she can help her with anything. shrugs away from petra's touch.

they go to bed and petra barely sleeps. she just lies awake, thinking. thinking about dorothea. thinking about herself. thinking about how she's been blowing off her friends, her family, her boss. thinking about how swept up she's been in all this crazy stuff she doesn't even really care about, putting off her own career. feeling guilty about ingrid. feeling guilty about blowing off shamir and bernadetta. worrying about who she's become around this woman. wondering what happened to her integrity.

fashion week goes great. flawlessly. petra heads back to enbarr afterward. she's almost ready to publish her piece, but she's gotta make up with shamir first. she apologizes. says she's so sorry. sorry for blowing her off. sorry she missed her deadlines. shamir is pretty fucking done with her and has told her as much already, but petra's earnest, and her piece is ready, and she wants to give the girl one more shot. she tells petra alright, i'll forgive you, but i need this piece tonight or we're done. i can't keep waiting on you and your schedule.

okay, petra says, you'll have it tonight.

she's worried. nervous. there's so much on her mind. the piece is ready but it's not going to make dorothea happy. she wants to call her first. she tries and gets her voicemail. tries again. nothing. texts her instead, a few times. hey, she writes, i need to talk to you. call me when you get the chance. it's about the profile. it's important. i'm on a deadline.

nothing. the hours are ticking by. she calls her. texts her. it's really important, dorothea. i need you to talk to me. please.

nothing.

petra's left wondering. wondering what to do. whether she should hit send on this email or hold off. wondering what she wants out of this.

and what is this, anyway? a summer fling? are they dating? girlfriends? they've never put a name on anything. do they have a future? can petra even think about building a future with someone she doesn’t trust to keep her along if she ever should need help? maybe dorothea’s hot and smart and maybe she’s got incredible drive but if she doesn't share petra's values, if she’s not going to be able to live for more than herself, and be true to herself, can petra accept that? does dorothea even know herself well enough to be able to be authentic?

time runs out and petra sends her piece to shamir. dorothea leaves her on read.

the piece is published. it's a huge hit, and not just in fashion circles, because it's a perfect portrait of dorothea arnault, and who doesn't love a biography of a wunderkind. it's honest. it's real. it talks about everything: her light, her darkness, the ups and the downs of being with her. it's raw. personal. revealing. it's all her brilliance and all her evils, captured in the way only someone who really loves her could do.

when it drops, petra expects dorothea to call and rip her a new one. she doesn't expect her not to call at all. but dorothea's radio silent. a few days later, some dickhead paparazzi petra has the misfortune of knowing (hilda and claude) send her a picture of dorothea in LA, running around with some red-headed douche (ferdinand).

sorry, dorothea texts her eventually. i've been soooo busy. i've missed you, but we'll catch up soon.

sure, petra writes, knowing they won't. i'll see you soon, she writes, knowing it's goodbye.

act 4

petra goes back to her career. back to her friends. crashes on edelgard's couch for a while. spends time with her family. starts addressing the connections she fucked up, fixing things with shamir, trying to gain momentum again. despite the profile on dorothea being such a success, it takes a long time for her to get back on her feet. but it's okay, 'cause if she's busy, she doesn't have to think about her.

months go by. every couple of nights, dorothea drafts a text to petra and deletes it.

it's february now, which means new york fashion week is here, and although petra is branching into investigative stuff nowadays, shamir calls in a favor and asks her to help cover it. petra knows she might see dorothea there. knows it’s a risk. decides she’s gonna be so strong and brave, and she can’t really afford to pass it up anyway because it’s a big career opportunity, a chance to revisit fashion after her profile last year. so she goes.

and they see each other. and nothing happens. they don't even say hello.

but that night, when petra’s in her hotel room, spiraling, dorothea calls her. she's in a hotel up the street. she asks petra to come over. for all her sense, her morals, her logic, petra is no more than a lesbian, so she says yes.

they don't talk. they jump right to making out sloppy style and fucking nasty and holy shit, it’s just like it was when they first met: hot and intense and so good, so perfect. except it’s not, it’s not, because this isn’t going to work out no matter how much they want it to, and they both know it. they get into a big fight after dorothea makes a crack about the profile and petra loses it. she puts dorothea on blast for being such a piece of work, saying she can’t ever be with her no matter how much she wants to because dorothea won't ever put someone else first and she’ll never figure out how to be anything other than alone.

then petra drops another bomb. over the past few months, she's made up with bernadetta, and it turns out that the big scoop bernie uncovered is about exploitative business practices a certain scummy fashion company engages in. a certain scummy company that dorothea's company is partnered with. said company's dealings wouldn't get their business partners in legal trouble, but public perception would certainly change. she's been working on an exposé about it. she's going to release it soon. really really soon. like as soon as she gets back to enbarr.

dorothea looks like she's been hit by a truck. she begs petra not to release the story about the company. it’s going to fuck her brand. she'll be ruined. she offers petra whatever she wants. gets nasty, even, defensive. then she fucking breaks. she doesn’t fully open up, but it’s the closest she’s ever come to doing it. she says she's sorry, sorry for hurting her, sorry for shutting her out, sorry she cut and ran like she always does when she might catch feels, when she might be vulnerable for once. she says she's sorry and she asks her please, please, not to release the story.

petra doesn’t give her an answer. she just goes back to her hotel.

once she gets back, she doesn't sleep. she stews for ages, pacing, going back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. act with integrity and drop the story as-is. don’t drop the story and protect the person she cares about, in spite of herself. amend the story so maybe dorothea won’t catch heat...? no, that wouldn’t be acting with integrity either. she can’t win either way.

and dorothea’s having a think, too, which is to say she’s a fucking WRECK. realizing how bad she’s fucked up her life. realizing that petra liked her for her. wanted to get to know her for more than her name and her money and her connections. told her things about herself she didn’t even realize were true. and she hurt her at every single turn. for the first time in her life, she had a chance at something real with a good person who really loved her and she fucking blew it. there’s so much dissonance as she tries to defend her own actions to herself and can’t because petra’s wormed her way into her head, the only person who ever Really questioned her, the only person who ever made her question.

she's always figured things out alone. she's always had to figure things out alone. this time, though, dorothea's not sure she can handle it. so she does the only thing she can think to do: she goes to manuela with her tail between her legs. manuela's a little pissy at first as dorothea's been blowing her off for a while now, but she's also worried, because dorothea has never come to her like this. not once. and she's offered for her to, a lot.

when manuela hugs her, dorothea breaks. she ugly-cries into manuela's arms. tells her how bad she's fucked up. how much she hates herself. how sorry she is for being a dickhead when manuela's only ever wanted to be there for her. manuela comforts her. chastises her for being an asshole, yeah, but shores her up, too. tells her if she's really sorry, she'll figure out how to change. tells her that she's there for her, and she'll keep being there for her, so long as she tries. dorothea's blown away. she thought she'd lost her shot at having love in her life, but she was too blind to see there are other types of love she's been shutting herself away from, too.

dorothea leaves manuela's, still feeling like shit, but with plans to get lunch or at least call each week, and with the promise that she's going to do better, be better.

she makes an effort, too. she cuts ties with the skunks. changes her business practices. starts being more charitable, less ruthless, less aggressive. it’s a slog and it sucks and she’s bad at it but fuck she’s going to try. even if petra never takes her back, even if petra just thinks dorothea’s trying to cover her own ass again and protect herself from the impact of the story, it doesn’t matter. she’s going to be better. she’s going to try to do things right, because someone believed in her, someone thought she could be better. and she’d never thought so highly of herself, never thought she could be more until petra came into her life and saw the potential in her.

petra releases the story a week or so later, unrevised. she texts dorothea before she does. says she’s sorry. dorothea says it’s alright. she understands.

the story drops and it’s a clusterfuck. an absolute PR disaster. the scummy company folds overnight. a bunch of related fashion companies, including dorothea’s, are in huge hot water. dorothea’s on the press circuit, doing damage control. petra’s watching an interview with her, listening to her spouting off her PR beats. fully expecting dorothea is going to deny everything, throw everyone she can under the bus to keep her shit afloat. so she just about has a heart attack when dorothea admits she’s fucked up. admits she made the wrong decisions, did stuff she knew was scummy. takes accountability. is honest for once. honest in a way petra didn’t think was even possible for her.

dorothea outlines her plans for how she’s going to be better, the changes her company’s making, how things are going to be different. says she’s making a commitment. if it all folds, so be it. at least she’ll be able to sleep at night.

because capitalism is the way it is, the company doesn’t go under. they’re in the red for a while and the "Controversies" section of her wikipedia page is now significantly longer, but the news cycle goes on and consumers forget and a few months later, pieces from dorothea’s summer line are all the rage with the kids on tiktok. petra’s more than a little bitter about it, but mostly she doesn’t give it any thought. she did her part. wrote honestly. spoke the truth. kept her integrity. she’s become a big name since that scoop, too, with her career really taking off. she's writing books and shit, appearing on tv, what have you, doing the investigative work she's always dreamed of doing.

she’s in london one night on the final leg of a press tour, sitting in her hotel room, when she gets a call.

it’s dorothea. she’s in london too. would petra like to get brunch tomorrow?

yeah she would. bitch loves a mimosa.

they get brunch and it’s tense. they try small talk but don’t really know what to talk about. dorothea makes it more awkward by cracking a joke about petra writing an article about her after this brunch and petra only kind of laughs.

but then dorothea apologizes. earnest. honest. like she’s never been with petra. tells her she’s sorry. tells her how she changed her life and made her think about herself differently, made her think she could be a better person. made her Want to be a better person. convinced her it’d be worthwhile to try. and she has. she’s made so many steps since they last saw each other. doing better. living kinder. living true. says she doesn’t expect anything from petra at all. just wanted to say sorry, and thank you for seeing the best in me.

petra says you’re welcome.

dorothea pays for brunch and they go their separate ways. dorothea holds it together until she gets to her hotel room and then she loses it, bawling her eyes out like she has never ever done, like she’s never let herself do. but it’s okay. she loves petra, that hot journo with the cute accent and more morals than sense, but dorothea knows she doesn’t deserve her, and she’s going to be okay with that. she’s going to live better anyway, for herself, because she’s worth it.

act 5

a year and a half goes by before dorothea and petra run into each other at a formal Thing. they talk, cordial, business-like, just catching up. dorothea makes a crack about the tmz photos of petra with three or four different high-profile supposed gfs over the past year and a half, calling her a heartbreaker. petra laughs, a real laugh. says dorothea's one to talk. asks if she's been keeping up with her? how often does she google her? dorothea says she does it more often than she'd like to admit. petra blushes, laughs again, flattered.

she asks if dorothea's been breaking more hearts lately herself and dorothea says nah. she's been focusing on her business. she's got this non-profit going now too, and it's been taking off. just landed some pretty big investments that will bring arts programs to schools that don't have funding for them. she looks proud of this. she is. she's actually spending more time doing that these days than her fashion stuff, which makes her a little sad, but it's not so bad because it's given her a bit of a mystique: the designer whose work was once Everywhere, now dropping limited release lines every few seasons instead of keeping up with the fast fashion whirlwind. it's different but it's good. she likes it. she's happy.

petra says she's glad to hear that. that she's happy for her. makes a reference to the new line dorothea's rumored to be dropping this fall. dorothea's eyes almost pop out of her head. you know about that? yeah, petra says, i google you. she's known about the non-profit, about everything dorothea's been telling her about. she's a journalist. she likes knowing things. but she likes knowing about her. knowing that she's doing well. and it's really good now, knowing that she's happy. she tells dorothea she's happy for her. that she's proud of her. that she knew she could do it.

dorothea doesn't cry. just says thank you. she gets called away by somebody else, and petra does too, pulled in the opposite direction. dorothea thinks about hugging her first. almost touches her hand. elects not to. says it was good to see her. then they're both whirled elsewhere and they don't see each other again.

but that night when dorothea's in her hotel, she gets a text. it's from petra. would she like to get coffee tomorrow?

FIN

#fe3h #fire emblem #doropetra #dorothea arnault #petra macneary #sterge.rtf #journalist x fashion designer au #long post #thinkin about them girls #wish i could do this idea justice #i just wrote an edeleth fic and Need to get back to hpnd as i miss those fellas #plus there's the matter of old man clod who is the albatross around my neck at this point #but now i've got this doropetra situation on the brain and it's gonna be the death of me.#apologies to arrow and caller as i literally vomited this entire au at them this morning #copy and pasted chunks of this from discord bc i'm lazy and spent Too Fucking Long writing this up anyway #might write the first part as a one-shot for funsies #i like exploring the ruthless side of dorothea. the side of her that is focused wholly on self-preservation #yeah she's funny and flirty and sweet but she's also Very Aware of how the world works and Will get what she wants out of life #also love petra's determination and drive. her self-sacrificing nature #her integrity and her commitment to doing the right thing even if it's devastating for her personally #as y'all will eventually find out in hpnd i'm a sucker for a journalist #but even if i had time i could not be arsed to learn enough about the fashion industry to do this justice #realistically this is far enough departed to be its own book but what do i care. i'm not gonna end up actually writing the thing anyway

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alienducky · 1 year

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I'm looking through the FE3H concept art book to get an idea of how to draw my OC in that style and pose, and I'm getting distrated and amazed at the uniform shoes

They look entirely impractical for everyday wear to me. Though I freely admit at this point to be more about comfort than fashion

6 of the 11 girls have knee high boots. Another 4 reach mid calf. The only one I can even vaguely consider an ankle boot is Edelgard's, and she's got a ridiculously pointed heel. The others get a solid-ish wedge, except Leonie, Annette, and Mercie who get flats

-Side note, but the only guy who gets a distinct heel is Claude, which for some reason I find hilarious

I'm not even going to talk about f!Byleth's shoes, and how incredibly awful they'd be for merc life, with all the walking, and muddy/bloody battlefields

I then get to non students

Rhea has no feet according to the book. Except when she's Seiros, at which point she has sandals, which is certainly A Choice. Solid wedge heel, ankle tie, look separate from the leg armour. Decent, but cold toes

Flayn has knee highs, which I can kinda live with, since she's wearing a version of the uniform. Manuela has fancy click clacks, but she's a proffessor and former diva so she gets a pass.

Catherine? Knee highs. Shamir? Knee highs. Flame Emperor? Bloody knee highs with a giant fucking wedge heel (c'mon, I know she's short, but she isn't THAT short)

Kronya has fucking crotch highs. I'm fascinated by them, and I want to know how she gets them on and off, or if she just lives in them? Is magic involved somehow? Is this what the non-fighting magic in game is used for?? Kronya getting dressed???

And then the only, ONLY female class that has shoes below mid-high calf is the assassin. And they're the weird sandal things with curly toes

Maybe I'm not being fair though, seeing as the only guy student who has shoes that are lower than high-calf/knee is Ignatz, and his look like standard slip on dress shoes and thus Not Comfortable

I'm guessing it's a noble thing. A "Oh look how much money we have to spend on all this shoe leather, tee-hee" thing. Because I can't think of any other explanation for the ridiculousness of these shoes

This is going to bother me, and get in the way of me actually starting to draw for several hours, I know it

Cut for photos of the shoes, because I need to share my pain

#duckpond stuff #fe3h #fe3h clothes

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envihellbender · 1 year

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Golden Deer gym leaders !!

Claude

When you enter the Leicester Alliance you are met with some very strange Pokémon. Their eyes are grey, their limbs shaking, and they seem unable to make any sounds. They are glowing various colours, and when you defeat or attempt to catch them they disappear. When you reach Riegan territory, your first stop, you meet a Druddigon who’s eyes are completely blank with a haunting grey colour. He is glowing a strange silver and he flashes in and out of existence. Before you can fight him, Claude Riegan - next in line to be head of the Alliance - appears, alongside his companion Dragapult. His Pokémon manages to dive towards the Druddigon and startling it, this causes it to vanish completely. You thank Claude for saving you but he instead is more curious in what brings you to the Alliance. He seems friendly enough, if somewhat distant. He explains to you that strange Pokémon have been appearing all over the city states, and as of yet no one is sure why. Claude’s theory is that they are the ghosts of long dead Pokémon. He tells you that every town and gym are being overrun with them, and asks you to help them. He assures you he can handle his gym and Riegan territory for now, he mentions that he’s worried about how Ignatz is handing this, the normal type gym leader.

Claude has thick dark brown hair which tends to seem dishevelled with a fringe that falls in his eyes. When battling he tends to wear a navy headband brushing it out of his field of vision. He wears a long button up indigo shirt that falls to just above his knees, it’s fastened until just below his chest over a light blue t-shirt with a dragonair on the front. He has a purple hoodie which he ties around his waist and slim fitted navy trousers, with chunky purple and blue trainers with a thick sole. He has a strong connection to Almyra, the land of dragons, which is known for its vast amount of dragon type Pokémon. This is where he first met his dragapult - it evolved a dreepy that hatched from Claude’s first egg he was given responsibility of. During his difficult childhood where he felt isolated and tormented by his parents and brother, dreepy was his best friend. He was seen as small and weak just like his Pokémon, but together they grew into something strong and feared.

Hilda

Hilda is the leader of the steel type gym, she took control of it after her brother Holst had to leave in order to go on a diplomatic mission to Almyra. When you arrive in Goneril territory she is hanging around the border fighting a group of ghostly apparitions. She comments on how they’re strange and she doesn’t like them. Despite this she defeats a horde of them with ease before you can intervene, afterwards she asks for a favour. She says the town has been dealing with these creatures for a while and they seem strangely attracted to the statue of her ancestor in the centre of the town square. When you investigate and defeat the surrounding Pokémon, you find a strange artefact at the statue’s feet. It’s a bizarre contraption, it’s made of bones with pulsing flesh, it seems to resemble a sword. When you carry it with you, you discover that the strange ghosts are attracted to you.

Hilda enjoys her Pokémon to be soft and cute whilst still being terrifying forces of nature. For example, her companion tinkaton, and members of her team such as cufant, jirachi, and magearna. When she was a child she was given a tinkatink by her older brother Holst, he had caught her and said that since she was a sweet little thing who had surprising strength and threw tantrums it reminded him of Hilda. She was immediately taken to the little Pokémon, and would even cuddle up with her to fall asleep. Hilda’s hair is kept in pigtails, she wears an off the shoulder pink jumper dress, grey leggings, and pink high top trainers. She carries a dark grey backpack that has a pattern of meltans on it. She is a mechanic with lots of physical strength, something which often surprises people due to her petite frame and her feminine presentation. She has a reputation for being quite lazy and trying to shirk her responsibilities. Despite this however, she is often seen working on various projects whether it be cars, bikes, and more. She can lift up extremely heavy objects without focusing much, and often likes to carry an axe simply to match her tinkaton (it is not sharp and is entirely decorative, but she enjoys swinging it around.)

Lorenz

Lorenz recently took over the Grass type gym from his father, and comes from a long, long, long line of Grass gym leaders. He’s extremely proud of this fact and boasts about it regularly, particularly around Claude who he spends a lot of time with despite his insistence that he doesn’t trust him. He is convinced that Claude has something to do with the ghostly apparitions. He says he knows through certain ‘sources’ that Claude has connections to the neighbouring country Almyra and Lorenz declares ‘who knows what sorcery they are capable of.’ It isn’t until you defeat both Lorenz and Claude that he accepts that perhaps Claude is just as in the dark about the situation as he is. Lorenz’s city is well taken care of, wealthy, and is used to Lorenz boasting and swaggering around. They say despite his arrogance he always takes good care of his city, he considers it the job of a gym leader to make sure everyone is happy, protected and well taken care of. There is a message board outside of the gym were people post their requests of Lorenz as well as their grievances. In order to receive a challenge with Lorenz you have to complete five of these tasks.

His companion Pokémon is his Serperior. He says he only accepts the most noble and beautiful Pokémon and Serperior clearly fits this position completely. Lorenz was given this Pokémon as a snivy when he was a child. Ever since then they have been inseparable, Snivy would mimic Lorenz’s movements and flounce along after him or ride on his shoulder. Lorenz has shoulder length hair he wears in a side and undercut style. He wears a tiger lily hair slide keeping it from falling in his face. He wears a knee length, deep purple peacoat with large emerald buttons down the front, and three green carnations in his the chest pocket. He dons a light green button up shirt, and grey check high waisted trousers, and dark green loafers.

Ignatz

You bump into Ignatz on the way to his town, he is sat leaning against a tree with a notepad on his knee sketching. His smeargle is sat next to him doing the same thing, he looks a bit cross when you get closer. You realise you’re stood in his light and casting a shadow over his paper. When you turn to Ignatz he smiles politely but awkwardly in return. He says hello and asks you what you’re doing here. You explain you’re here to beat the gym leader and he sighs awkwardly, introducing himself as Ignatz, the one you are looking for. He confides in you that he’s considering stepping down as the gym leader. He says he wasn’t sure he wanted it in the first place, and the town is swarmed with ghostly apparitions. Lots of the citizens are hiding in the gym, some are trying to live alongside them. When you enter a store, there is either just a ghostly apparition behind the counter, or both the ghost and a person. He inherited the gym from his parents who are too infirm to do anything with it at present. You try to convince him that the gym needs him, but it’s difficult. As you are talking you are ambushed by seven ghostly apparitions, you and Ignatz fight them together. At the end you congratulate him on such a good fight, saying that his is why he is such a good gym leader.

You convince Ignatz to come back into the town, but together you defeat a long line of the ghostly apparitions. Eventually the people behind nervously exiting the gym looking around. The apparitions aren’t gone but there is a handful in the centre of the town. The people are relieved and no longer seem frightened, in fact they all crowd around Ignatz and congratulate him. Ignatz wears a white button up shirt with a verdant green wooden vest on top. He has beige trousers and dark brown leather shoes. On top of this is a paint stained apron, and his has wiry circular glasses. His pale hands have drops of different coloured paints on them.

Raphael

The fighting type gym is located far off the beaten track, it is on the side of an old road between two big cities in the countryside. When you eventually find it you see a gym with an inn at the entrance. You enter to find the landlord is Raphael, the gym leader. He has a happy go lucky, loud young man, and he enthusiastically helps in the kitchen and is almost constantly eating. When you first arrive, you ask Raphael if he has encountered any ghostly apparitions, he says his work with the gym and the inn have left him extremely busy and unable to go outside much. He did say however that lots of the patrons of the inn have been talking about it if you want to see if you can discover any news. He off-handedly says that he is concerned about Ignatz. When you ask about challenging him he reacts as if he has completely forgotten. He comes up with a challenge on the spot, he decides that if you come back with a selection of ingredients and cook something new and exciting for him to eat he’ll battle you. When you win, he responds positively and excitedly saying it was the most challenging battle he’s had in a long time. He gives you a free night in the inn, a free meal, and a badge.

Raphael’s companion is a Throh, he is surprisingly gentle considering his species and greatly enjoys helping Raphael cook by beating dough, whisking, and using a rolling pin. Him and Raphael quite often wrestle, race each other, and more for fun. Raphael keeps his curly hair pushed out of his eyes with a red sports headband, wears yellow and red boxing style shorts and a yellow and red basketball style vest. He has chunky white and red trainers, and wears martial arts tape around his wrists and hands.

Leonie

The bug type gym is distinctive in that it isn’t a building but an entire forest. Leonie is at the centre and you have to figure out how to get to her to challenge her. When you first approach the forest you are met with a Pokémon trainer from the bug type gym. He gives you a map to the next trainer as a reward for battling him. The forest is a maze you have to travel through, using the maps you can find trainer after trainer to find your way to Leonie in the centre. However, here are also traps and barricades in the way that you will need certain Pokémon to help cross when certain branches need cutting down, bodies of water need crossing, and the like. What makes things even more difficult is that the ghostly apparitions seem to enjoy confusing you and causing false traps to appear. When you reach the centre Leonie jumps down from the trees with a spidops who lowers himself from a tree. She is impressed by your abilities to get so far with minimal difficult, but she is adamant you won’t be able to beat her. She repeatedly talks about the one who passed down the title of gym leader, Jeralt. She mentions how her spidops was given to her by Jeralt when he was a taroutula, and how when you defeat one of her Pokémon she says “Jeralt taught me how to deal with this.” When you win, she says she’s not lived up to Jeralt’s memory and she needs to train harder.

In appearance, Leonie prefers to wear what is practical and get as much use out of everything she owns. Her spidops often helps her mend her things. Her hair is short but overgrown, shown in how her fringes fall in her eyes and the curls at the back of her neck. She wears torn blue jeans that are fixed with different coloured patches, muddy hiking boots, a loose green t-shirt, a big brown coat with many pockets, a pair of brass binoculars around her neck, and a heavily patched brown backpack.

Marianne

When you reach Edmund territory everything is in disarray, it is a village that is sat on the side of a hill, surrounded by grassland and a lake in the middle. The ghostly apparitions seem worse here, you discover from the villagers that Pokémon are drawn to Marianne because she senses their thoughts and emotions. She can communicate with them, but sometimes the process can be overwhelming. The ghostly apparitions are bringing too much pain and overwhelming feelings for Marianne to be able to focus on being a gym leader. When you go to the gym she is not seeing anyone, and as a result there’s a long queue of trainers who are simply hanging around the lobby. She is locked in her room and not speaking much either. Hilda has travelled to the gym to comfort her and is found talking to Marianne through her door. Hilda asks if you can try to defeat up to ten of the ghostly apparitions in the hope that it will help Marianne calm down and become less over whelmed. Hilda’s theory is that if every trainer tries to defeat up to ten of the mass of apparitions, then so many will be defeated that it’ll make a noticeable difference. Once you complete this task, Marianne appears with a Mawlie who is holding her hand. Her mawlie was the first Pokémon Marianne ever communicated with. She discovered it as a teenager and it is a common ability in her family line.

In regards to her appearance, Marianne’s hair is in a short pixie cut with a morelull shaped clip keeping her hair from her eyes. wears a blue and pink plaid shirt dress that goes down to her ankles, with pink high top trainers, and grey leggings. She has a sky blue cardigan, and a cross body knitted purse in the shape of a ralts.

Lysithea

Lysithea technically died when she was a child, she wandered off into the forest following the voice which turned out to be a phantump. Days later her lifeless body was found, it was brought back into Ordelia territory, and whilst it was being prepared the body disappeared. Her family searched endlessly until one day she walked out of the forest of her own accord as if she never left. She was accompanied by a phantump, a litwick, and a pumpkaboo. They ran many tests and established it was in fact Lysithea but her memory of what had happened was unclear. She remembered wandering the forest, and then nothing. Next thing she knew she was waking up on the forest floor being fussed over by the three ghost Pokémon. It was considered a miracle, and the town began to almost worship Lysithea. They created the ghost type gym in her honour, and she became the gym leader at the age of nine. She attracts ghost type Pokémon, they seem drawn to her and the Ordelia territory almost as if there is some magnet pulling them there. As a result of this, it is assumed she has something to do with the ghosts of Pokémon that are appearing all over the Alliance. When you speak to her about it, Lysithea is just as confused as everyone else but she is researching the matter. In order to challenge her she tasks you with bringing her several materials and Pokémon that she needs for her tests.

Lysithea’s hair is tied in a long plait with a butterfly clip at the end. She is seen in a deep purple dress, it’s made of a light, flowing fabric with silver buttons that start at the neckline and go down to her waist. The skirt goes just past her knees, where she has lightly blue tights, and black lace up boots. She has a sky blue shawl adorned with stars that she wears around her shoulders. She wears a long necklace which is made of violet beads all shaped like moon phases with stars in between each one.

#Pokémon three houses #Pokémon au #fe3h #golden deer #envi writes #claude von reigen #lorenz hellman gloucester #hilda valentine goneril #Ignatz Victor #raphael kirsten #fire emblem leonie #marianne von edmund #lysithea von ordelia

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fourspiceblend · 2 years

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Nobody asked for this but now that we have all the student trailers these are my actual thoughts on the redesigns (since I know we won't get a trailer for the faculty next week and even if they're unlockable/DLC later I don't trust IS to give them a glow up). I'm only talking personal preference here, no deep analysis into what the costumes signify or whatever.

Edelgard: on its own? It's a cute design, and the hair looks pretty nice in spite of how thin the braid looks. Coming from 3H? Uninspired and bland. The red emperor dress had presence, it signified power, it had that Enormous Bitch Who Will Ruin Your Day energy. I'm not sensing any of that here, it's like they wanted to remind us she's 5'2" and likes teddy bears and probably wears floaties to the beach. 6/10, isn't lower because I like red.

Hubert: massive downgrade. They masacred him for the meme potential. 2/10, would hate it less if his original TS design didn't exist and set such a high standard for Hubert swag, but sadly this is the timeline we live in.

Ferdinand: meh. The hair looks fine but his outfit says nothing. 5/10

Linhardt: Gender/10. The clear winner of the Eagles. He's even wearing a nun collar to boot! May as well be wearing that "I really wish I weren't here right now" button and I love that for him. His whole cozy outfit looks like it would be great for naps. I wish him the best.

Caspar: deserved better. I always hated his TS outfit to begin with, but his undercut gave him a cute shonen boy edge. This hairstyle makes him look like all of my male classmates in middle school, and I went to middle school in the 2000's. I can smell the Axe body spray from here. 1/10

Bernadetta: she looks like an onion. 4/10, and only because I like her outfit and color scheme. No, I don't care that "it fits her".

Dorothea: pretty, but doesn't do much for me. 7/10, but overall a downgrade. The braid is sick tho.

Petra: 9/10. It's grown on me. I like that they gave her sandals, and THE BRAIDS ARE BACK!! Braids good.

Dimitri: 7/10, not great, not terrible, always good to see him with both eyes. His original TS look will always be iconic though. Hard to top that honestly.

Dedue: 10/10. They took everything we love about his design and made it better, gave him his earring back, and gave him a BEARD! AND a BRAID! I am a simple human with simple tastes, and I love everything that's going on in here.

Felix: 6/10. No tsundere thigh highs, no poofy sleeves, he's wearing a bump-it. The hair itself isn't terrible but I got so used to the spiky volleyball hair that seeing him in a hairstyle that actually looks normal feels out of character for him. It's fine I guess, but his outfit is missing that wealthy douchebag energy the old one had.

Ashe: cute, very Ashe, a little bit of gender going on. 7/10, nothing much to say here.

Sylvain: 0/10. They didn't even try.

Mercedes: ara ara/10. Absolute perfection. I do admit I miss the hat, but her hair is so gorgeous she doesn't even need it.

Annette: 10/10. The winner of the Lions. It's like she's ready to open up her bakery. I do still have a soft spot for her old timeskip dress but the hair is very much an upgrade. I want to pick her up and put her in my pocket.

Ingrid: 3/10. I just wanted the braid back.

Claude: 8/10, would be higher if he still had a beard. The color scheme is pretty nice.

Hilda: 8/10, love her look but still prefer the original. I'm glad they didn't really change much and kept it very much her.

Lorenz: 8/10, again not much of a change, he's very Lorenz and I'm here for that.

Raphael: 9/10. It just fits him better than his original TS look. He looks ready to go rock climbing with you. He looks like he would host the sickest barbecue ever.

Ignatz: 6/10. Love the hair clips and side swept thing going on, not the biggest fan of everything else.

Lysithea: 7/10. I will not forgive them for taking the veil away, but the outfit overall is cute, it's just not as great as the original. It's just kinda... plain? Yeah, sorry.

Marianne: 9/10. HAIR DOWN!!! That's it. That's literally the only thing I wanted and I got it so I can't complain. Also she still looks very much like a holy woman, but her hair is short enough that we can see her back window... business in the front, party in the back.

Leonie: 7/10. While I'm happy the short hair is back, the actual haircut itself doesn't say much and would have preferred something much closer to her academy hair. Still a cute design overall tho.

#long post #few3h #i'm not tagging everyone or everything #this is kind of a shitpost but i'm very serious about those scores #i feel like the lions and eagles had clear winners and losers #meanwhile the deer had mostly everyone look pretty good and i don't feel particularly strong about anyone's looks

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mommymooze · 4 years

Text

Big Girls, Big Hearts

The Golden Deer are devouring their lunch on a sunny fall afternoon. The conversation is lively as they are quite the boisterous bunch. Rumors are spreading about strange things happening in Remire Village. Everyone is working themselves into an anxious state about the perplexing rumors being overheard. Hilda decides it is time to lighten the conversation.

“You know, every year they hold a ball at the Academy. The students get the chance to get to know each other better in a more friendly environment and its sort of a reward for working so hard as well as a possible way to find future partners.” She grins widely.

“A ball?” you ask. “With dressing up and dancing? I’m a commoner. It’s only for nobles, right?”

Hilda scoffs. “No silly! It’s for everyone! Dancing and romancing! Time to find love and intrigue, hugs and kisses.”

“Um, this is an optional event, right?” You ask nervously. You’ve never been to a ball. Never had to learn to dance. You would rather beat up 500 bandits than go to a single ball.

“Come on (y/n) . You are the bravest person I know. What’s so scary about a little dance? Getting to hold a special someone in your arms for a bit, maybe even a kiss in the moonlight…Ooooh so exciting!” Hilda clasps her hands together daydreaming wistfully.

“Maybe I can catch the plague by then.” You grumble at your empty plate in front of you.

“No! Don’t even think that. We are going to get you ready and dressed up and you will not believe how beautiful you will look.” Hilda stomps her foot at you.

“Yeah, like putting lipstick on a pig, but with fat swollen lips because I’m allergic to it.” You further groan.

“Pish Posh! We can accentuate your good qualities yet keep you comfortable. I may let you wear shoes with less than 3 inch heels even.” Hilda puts her finger on her chin plotting further ways of dressing you up.”

“Balls are for petite cute girls like you and Marianne. My arms are like tree trunks. I am bulgy and lumpy. Not a sweet and delicate flower such as yourself.” You moan on, hoping she gives up soon.

Hilda puts her hands on her hips. “Yes, I can be a delicate flower. I also wield an axe just like you. Those things are heavy and take strength to swing around. Yes, I will admit to having a few muscles. Not everyone wants a delicate maiden that falls over from the slightest breeze. Some want a good hunk of warm and loving body to squeeze them back until they can’t breathe. Everyone knows you are incredibly strong. Didn’t I hear about you carrying Dedue to the infirmary not that long ago? I bet Felix or Sylvain couldn’t do it at all, but you just whisked him up and hauled him across the monastery like he was a little kid and ran him up the stairs to the infirmary.”

You blush furiously. “What was I supposed to do? I walked into the greenhouse just as he slipped on the wet rocks and he was knocked out. I couldn’t just leave him there.” You are hiding your face in your hands, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

Hilda laughs. “(Y/n), We watched you carry him bridal style running to the infirmary. I heard that when he found out he blushed for a half hour straight.!”

You want to crawl under the table, settling for crossing your arms and burying your face in them.

Hilda tugs your arm, “We are hitting up the dressmaker in town. Gonna get you a killer dress, show off those muscular toned abs and legs, and get you set up for the night of your life.”

“Nightmare of my life more like.” You mumble to yourself.

-----------------

The battle at Remire is terrifying. Thomas turns into a really creepy ghosty old guy. The Flame Emperor shows up being threatening. The worst part is the villagers. They are going crazy killing everything, even their own families. They didn’t know they are attacking their own loved ones, their own friends. The Deer try so hard to rescue as many villagers as possible. You work to subdue as many of the possessed ones you can. They are still someone’s family and hopefully the madness is temporary. When the battle is over you look at the village, not much is left of it. The smell of smoke and burnt everything is thick in the air, choking everyone, making their eyes burn. Finally, after the cleanup is done and all the villagers are treated for injuries, it is time to head back to the monastery.

The Golden Deer are unusually quiet as they silently march back to the monastery. Even Hilda is quiet after what she had seen. Ignatz makes his way over to you as the group keeps walking back to the academy.

“You ok?” He softly whispers to you.

You take your sleeve and wipe the tears from your eyes. “Yeah, I just got a lot of smoke in my eyes there. Thanks.” You mumble back, hanging your head a bit lower than it was before.

It is a long walk back. Everyone finally makes it into the monastery gates and the group splits up, everyone going their own direction.

Claude takes you aside. “Are you going to be okay? I’d be happy to chat if you want to. The professor is a great listener too.” He says with a look of concern in his eyes.

You don’t know where your tears are coming from now. They haven’t stopped since you were in Remire village. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Professor Byleth comes over and puts her arm around your shoulder, leading you to her room. She pulls out a tea set and prepares tea.

“You know I lost my parents in a fire. Watching the village burn brought the whole thing back.” You stare down into your teacup.

“I’m sorry.” Byleth responds. Her face is not extremely expressive, but you can tell she is being very sympathetic from her body language.

“Do you think I can talk to Seteth about helping them out some? Isn’t this something like what the church would do? It is so late in the year and many of them don’t have secure homes to live in.” You ask, the tears slowing.

“My father and I spent a lot of time at that village. That was where the church found us. I will talk to him as well.” Byleth nods.

You return to your room to try to sleep after such a nightmarish week.

---------------------

The next morning you check with Seteth about assisting the village. You find that he has already spoken with Captain Jeralt and Lady Rhea feels that this is an excellent idea. After a few days of gathering supplies and materials, a small caravan heads out to Remire. Professor Byleth, the Golden Deer, Shamir, Jeralt and all his former mercenaries who had been incorporated into battalions, Alois and some of the Knights of Seiros, and surprisingly, Dimitri and Dedue.

The town elders meet with your group, discussing their wants and needs. Repairs to the structures that are salvageable should begin quickly. Tasks are divided between those that are experts in certain areas assisted by warm bodies that can lift, move or hand things to others. Ignatz is working on a map of the to be reconstructed village. Since assistance has arrived so quickly, there are fewer residents that will be leaving for other towns, happily staying now that they have some support. Everyone has something they can do. Cutting trees, clearing branches, gathering wood and kindling, sifting through burnt houses for useful items that can be salvaged like utensils, plates, and tools. The young go with the old to fields gathering heather, reeds, and straw for thatching the roofs.

You start with gathering salvaged bricks together to repair buildings. Even Lysithia can carry a few bricks at a time, you tell her 30 are needed at this house, 15 needed here. A few Knights head off to a local riverbank for sand and water to make the mortar. You clean and prepare the bricks, measure the materials and have someone stir the mortar mixture. Soon you find yourself up on a ladder with a full mortarboard spreading an even layer of the compound, then place a brick, lay more mortar between it and the next brick. Starting with the smaller repairs first there are now several restored residences that will keep the wind and weather out.

As the sun goes down, everyone gathers in the center of town around large cauldrons full of soup, together with fresh baked bread made by the residents from the supplies brought by the Academy volunteers. Many of the townspeople are crying thanking everyone for their help. The Knights certainly push that this is by the grace of the goddess and the church. Others are simply happy to help in any way they can.

You grab some soup and take a seat near Dimitri and Dedue. They greet you and welcome your presence.

“I am surprised by your bricklaying knowledge. I had no idea of your talents.” Dimitri smiles.

“My older brother was a bricklayer, I helped him out often when I was growing up. I can’t wait to get my hands on some hammers and nails once the brickwork is complete.” You grin. “I am surprised to find the two of you here.”

“Hey your Princeliness, Dedue, (Y/n). Mind if I join you?” Claude takes a seat next to you. “We really appreciate your help. We did not expect other houses to send anyone.”

“I am very interested to see firsthand the reconstruction after disasters such as this.” The prince says excitedly. “It is wonderous seeing everyone come together with a single mindset of rebuilding. Everyone is helping in so many different manners. The strong are carrying bricks and trees, cutting wood, lifting loads. The weaker are preparing food for everyone, gathering materials and completing more delicate work. I am amazed at how much has been accomplished in just a single day.”

“Agreed. Many hands make light work.” Dedue nods. “I am happy to lend my strength.”

“Both of you are certainly welcomed with open arms. There is plenty of heavy lifting to do.” Smiles Claude. “I hope we can replace a few homes before we leave. Talking with the elders, there are some families doubled up in the same house. At least if each family has their own place it would be much more pleasant making it through winter.”

“Another important thing is to provide these people support and comfort.” You softly speak. “Let them know there are others out here who care for you as your fellow man. I do not know any of these people, but I do know about losing things to disaster. People that had no idea who I was helped me, kept me going when my life was crushed by disaster. Now here I am, helping out someone else that I have no idea as to who they are. I just want to help them. I hope it keeps them going as well.”

Dedue nods and smiles. The two house leaders agree that this is a great learning experience for everyone. You take the empty dishes leaving them to chat amongst themselves and head over to Byleth who is sitting with her father and their former mercenaries.

“Byleth, Jeralt. I wanted to thank you personally for helping bring this together. It didn’t sit right with me leaving these people behind and in such a ruined state.” You say, a smile finally crossing your lips.

“If Seteth would have said one word about not helping with this I would have punched that ‘No’ right off of his face.” Jeralt laughs. Byleth smiles. “This is a great learning experience for everyone. I think all of the classes should complete a project like this. Hands on learning is the most practical. Even Lorenz is finding some hidden talents as a result of this experience. I think he has a greater respect for Leonie too. That girl can turn a pile of trash into 100 different useful things.”

After dinner there’s not enough light to work on building without making it dangerous. So you decide to knit a sock or two. That way you can talk to everyone and when you’re done, someone has a new pair of socks. Win-win! There is plenty of chatter to go around the campfires with everyone in the village telling interesting stories of its history, or funny residents who did silly things, famous village romances or deeds. They also share stories of when the Blade Breaker came to town to save or help them. Being in a village isn’t all peace and quiet. There were some exciting and spicy tales shared until the cobwebs filled everyone’s heads and it was time to sleep.

The next day is just as busy with more homes being made whole by the end of the day. Construction is started on two different houses. One for a larger family, one for a smaller. Everyone gives their all in some way or another. Gathering kindling, firewood, food, finding the animals that were scattered by the calamity. Suddenly Saturday morning arrives, the last day the group from Garreg Mach will stay for rebuilding. What a difference everyone has made! Every family in Remire has their own place to stay without having to share. There are a long row of stalls for wares in the new Marketplace. There is even a barn and stable to keep horses for the community. Firewood is stored to keep the homes warm. It is everything the smaller village needs to get them through the winter. There is a celebration in the village center and tears are shed. However, these are all tears of joy as new friendships have been forged and the feeling of a job well done can be left with the people. The march back to the monastery is full of high spirits and happy hearts.

---------------------

Back at the monastery you look forward to a warm bath and sleeping in your own bed. Just as you’ve changed into your nightgown there is a knock on the door.

“Um, I was just about to go to sleep. Can we talk tomorrow?” you anxiously respond to the knock as you stand at the door.

“It’s just me.” Says Hilda. “Come on. We’ve got some girl talk to do.”

You roll your eyes as the chipper pink ponytailed girl comes bouncing in your dorm.

“You haven’t forgotten the ball now, have you?” She winks.

“Oh yeah, that.” You stammer. You kinda sorta did forget.

“Tomorrow we’re going to town and getting a dressmaker to take your measurements. I know exactly what you need to wear.” She bubbles out excitedly. “I think you would be adorable in yellow. I saw the most darling shimmery satin material that would make you look like a princess.”

“A muscular, big shouldered princess.” You whine.

“Girl, you have no idea how to work with what you have, and you have a lot going for you.” Hilda smirks. “Now, I’ve been thinking. I know that you can’t wear lipstick, but I was hoping you can do some lip gloss. It has different things that go into it. Some are even flavored. Have you ever tried any?”

“Um. No.” You shrug sheepishly.

“Great! Hold still now.” Hilda has you in her grip as she plunks you down in your chair and starts carefully applying some gloss to your lips. “There. How is it?”

You mush your lips together. They aren’t tingling or stinging. They don’t feel like they are getting fat. She pulls your mirror from your dresser to show you your lips.

“They’re just shiny.” You say, looking confused.

“Shiny is healthy. Gloss makes your lips slippery. It’s really good for you in the winter. When the cold air hits them, they stay soft and won’t peel. Your lips are really pretty. They’ll be lined up around the building wanting to get a turn to kiss those cute shiny lips.” The pinkette grins.

“But this is a dance. Where is the kissing coming from? Do I have to? I’m so confused.” You plunk back down on your chair with a big frown.

“Listen and listen good. Pretty soon we’re going to graduate, everyone is going to go their own way and you’re my friend and I’m just trying to help you get the most out of life. The ball isn’t just a celebration for nobles. It’s a chance to get to know the other students better in a different environment, a casual and fun environment. So many people have met the love of their life at this very same Academy event! Who knows what will happen on that glorious evening? The magic is calling for you, I can hear it!”

You look at her like she has two heads.

“Come on! Loosen up! I told you I will get you through this. Let’s start with the dance lessons. If you are dancing with a guy, he’s supposed to lead. If you dance with a girl, then either of you can lead, just agree who is to lead before you start. So I am going to lead. That means you put your left hand on my shoulder on the same side, and put your right hand into my palm on the other.” She grabs your hand and waits for you to put the other on her shoulder. “Good. Now don’t stomp on my feet, you have socks on, so put your toes on mine so you can follow me. The lead person is going to take their right foot and step forward, since you are following, you take a step back on your left foot. You will be moving backwards mostly, so the lead person watches to make sure you don’t crash into anyone…” Hilda goes through the basics of the box step for the waltz. You don’t quite crush her toes, and just maybe you do get the hang of it a bit. She tells you to look at her face, don’t look down. Stop looking down. Looking down will mess you up. You crash and fall over on the bed laughing once and she makes you get up and try again.

“Enough for your first lesson. You did great.” Hilda smiles. “So tomorrow after breakfast, we hit the dress shop.”

You yawn, “Sure…” and wave as you see her out the door. You would have bad dreams about going to the ball and stomping on everyone’s feet, but you’re too tired to even do that and actually just have a good night’s rest.

-----------------

After breakfast Hilda practically drags you to town.

“Maybe I should just wear pants.” You grumble.

“Come on, you would look so cute!” She giggles.

“Cute is a bunny or a baby chick. I feel more like a silly goose.” You whine.

She hauls you into the dressmakers where a tall redheaded woman with a lowcut red dress assists you. “Hello dahlings.” She greets you at the door. Hilda curtseys, so you do too.

“Madame Palmyre, I’ve brought you another beauty in need of a dress for the ball.” Hilda proclaims.

“Hmmm. Hmmmm. Well. Athena. Hmmmm. No, Artemis! With the shoulders of Atlas. Oooooh. Yes.” Madame coos and ahhs as she walks around you touching your shoulders, lifting your head, raising your arms. “We must measure, quickly!” and shuffles you to the back where you are hastily stripped to your undergarments.

Madame’s hands work at a fast pace. She’s put special strings around various parts of your body, writing numbers down. Hilda stands next to her and they chitter and chatter with each other for a while. You decide to put your clothes back on.

“Lovelies, I shall have it ready two days before the ball. She will be magnifique!” Madame Palmyre raises her right hand with a flourish and a wide smile.

Hilda drags you to the cobbler to see what sort of shoes would be best. You glance at the boots longingly.

“No. “The Goneril girl shakes her head. “Cute. Not clunky.”

“Hilda, I have feet shaped like a duck.” You groan.

“Come on, work with me.” Hilda finally finds the shoes she is looking for. “Check this out. There is almost no heel, the toe is rounded but the way it is made, it gives you room for your wider foot to be comfy. Still cute!”

You look at the shoes, then at your friend. “I know you know what you are doing. I am so clueless. Just promise me I won’t want to cut off my feet by the end of the ball and I will wear whatever you want me to.”

“Gotcha, fam!” Hilda smiles as she puts in the order. The cobbler takes your measurements and says they will be ready next Sunday.

Hilda takes you to the final store of the day, which is great because this is really getting confusing and exhausting and overwhelming.

“Hey Mattie!” Hilda greets the owner. “We’re here for lipgloss and earrings.”

“But I don’t have pierced ears.” You look at her puzzled.

Hilda grins. “You will.”

You are a brave girl in battle. You fight and punch bad guys in the face. Intentionally letting someone stab holes in your ears is a whole different story. You were brave when they created the first hole and stuck the earring through. But when they stabbed your other ear with the needle, the needle that kept getting bigger the more you looked at it, the tears were shooting out of your eyes like rain.

“It’s done, its done. You’re fine! Look! So pretty!” Hilda is patting you on the back showing you the mirror. Mattie gives instructions to turn the earrings frequently and keep them clean. They should be well healed by the time of the ball. She helps you pick out some mint and honey flavored lip gloss.

You feel exhausted and overwhelmed. Not even fresh treats from the bakery tempt you. You just want to go back and hide. And maybe punch out a Duscur bear. Do something more familiar and relaxing.

That night you can’t sleep well. You always sleep on your side and no matter how you crunched up or mauled your pillow it still hurt your ears. You are going to die from lack of sleep long before the night of the ball. That is a welcome end, you think to yourself.

--------------------------

The next morning, dark circles hang heavily below your sleep deprived eyes, you barely make it to class in time. Lysithia notices something different as soon as she comes into the room.

“Your ears are pierced. That is so cute! I’ve been thinking about it. I may do that too some day.” The white haired girl muses.

“Hey (Y/n), Lysithia! Look who has more holes in her head! Just kidding.” Claude says as he taps his own earring while looking at yours.

Hilda strolls into the classroom followed by Marianne. They come to sit beside you.

“My ears are killing me. You better take good notes. I am going to sleep through class.” You warn the mischievous pinkette.

“And you’ll be cute doing it too. Yes, sometimes beauty can be painful, but it will go away soon.” Hilda tries to reassure you.

“I wish I could use magic on it, but it might make your earrings stick to your ears.�� Marianne comments looking at her hands.

You rest your hands on your books and your chin on your hands. Nothing is touching your ears and you fall asleep before Hanneman comes in and starts his lecture about crests.

----------------

The excitement surrounding the ball continues. Your stomach starts to twist in knots every time you hear the word “Ball”. You have your new shoes and Hilda makes you practice dancing in them and walking around your room in them so they are broken in enough to not hurt you on the night of the..you know.

Hilda drags you to town the Sunday before the ball to get a fitting for your dress. She’s being a real stinker, because she makes you wear a blindfold so you can’t see it. It comes with a special bustier, lifting your bust to be plump like a partridge (Madame Palmyre’s words). You had no idea what a bustier is in the first place. They picked and primped on you for a few minutes and then took the dress away, letting you get back into your comfy clothes. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, but you certainly wouldn’t battle in the dress, you chuckle to yourself.

Hilda continues with dancing practice. Marianne joins so you can observe them dancing as well. Marianne, the best dancer in the Deer glides gracefully across the floor. You feel like you are stomping around like a moose with four left feet. You are getting better though, you hardly step on Hilda’s feet any longer.

Soon, too soon, the fateful day arrives. The ball is this evening. They have classes in the morning so that everyone can get ready or in your case, panic in the afternoon. You just know you have a fever, you’re sick to your stomach. You should go to the infirmary so they can pronounce you on the brink of death and give a written note excusing you from the…the thing. Class finally ends, before you can escape, Hilda, Annette, and Dorothea grab you and physically take you to Hilda’s room for hairstyling and makeup. You try to excuse yourself because you forgot your lipgloss, but they are on to you and will not let you go. You have no idea how they can fit so many females in the same room and still have room to work on them all. You hope you can escape when getting lunch, but no, they are too evil and have lunch brought in for everyone.

“(Y/n), I have the perfect jewelry to match your look.” Hilda giggles. She holds up gold crescent moon earrings, bracelet, and a matching necklace. Many “oohs” and “ahhs” are heard from the others. The stones in the bracelet are perfect, they are a pale yellow and black, matching the colors of the dress. Hilda sends you off to your room with Annette and Dorothea to get you into your dress. The songstress shows you how to put on the sheer and dotted with gold sparkles thigh high stockings without ripping them, teaching you how to fasten them to the garter belt. They adjust the lacing of the bustier so that you can breathe easily and move, yet your bust is enhanced, which is quite embarrassing, but then you look over at Dorothea and she’s super enhanced and ready to spill over the top of hers any second. Finally they help you lift and pull the dress on. Soft yellow chiffon at the top, gathered under the bust into its empire waist. A black airy stretchy panel starts there and goes to the bottom of the dress, flaring out a bit. The front is just past your knees, the back a few inches above your ankles. It visually pulls your waist in. Dorothea has that perfect hourglass figure with a waist so tiny that you could almost enclose it with your hands. You have much more um, meat, around your waist, the muscles alone make you twice as wide as her, but with the black panel it flares so you really do look, dare you think it, feminine. You thought the slightly puffy sleeves would make your shoulders bigger, but they just give you more freedom of movement. This is the most comfortable and beautiful dress you have ever worn. Madame is a magician.

Dorothea nearly has tears in her eyes. “Our baby looks all grown up.” She sniffles.

“Wow.” Declares Annette. “I need to meet this seamstress. She really knows her stuff. Its like you’ve been magically transformed. If I didn’t know it was you under there (y/n) I would say it was a different person.

“Come on, you are going to make me cry.” You were emotional before, but seeing the whole outfit, you do feel like the princess Hilda wanted you to look like.

Suddenly it is time for everyone to head to the ball. Many of the women head off to meet their dates. Hilda and her date, Marianne, look adorable together. They have the same purple flowers in their hair and their dresses complement each other perfectly. They walk with you toward the sound of music playing. The students are filing into the large room for the dance, the variety of colors and styles are striking. Everyone looks so beautiful.

You wander over to where the Golden Deer have congregated on the side of the room. Raphael is wearing a shirt that fits across his chest, although his muscles in his arms still look like they are about to burst through the sleeves.

“Hey, (y/n). Glad to see ya. You sure look pretty.” Raphael grins. You take it as an amazing compliment, he usually only notices food.

Ignatz is nervously pulling at his collar. “I haven’t been to a Ball before. The monastery really went all out for this. The food, decorations, and presentation are a work of art.”

The house leaders are called to the front accompanied by Hilda, Hubert, and Mercedes. They perform a special dance together that includes changing partners. Of course, Claude has to ham it up by dipping Edelgard who is a bit shocked but recovers well from the unexpected move. The special dance ends and the surrounding students now fill the dance floor.

Leonie sits next to you with a plate of appetizers and sweets. “Go grab some food, (y/n). They have some amazing things on the banquet tables. I tried this gray stuff, it’s delicious.”

You quickly shake your head. “My stomach is so jittery. I’ll stick with apple juice.” You weakly smile as you take a sip.

Looking to the left, there is an anxious Lysithia trying to drag a dressed-up Cyril out to the dance floor. You laugh because he looks more nervous than you. Hilda has Marianne out on the floor, the couple gliding along smoothly like the floor is made of ice. Annette is smiling widely as Ashe is guiding her safely around the other couples. They look too cute.

“Ahem! (Y/n)” you suddenly hear a male standing next to you, breaking you from your trance.

You jump a little in your seat to see the Prince of Faerghus bowing low and asking you for a dance.

You stand up and stammer, “Oh, yes. Thank you.” You place your right hand into his left as he leads you among the dancing couples. Hilda’s dance practice pays off as you have yet to stomp on the Blue Lions leader’s feet or trip over your own. You chat about how happy he is having participated in the rebuilding of Remire and how some day he will rebuild Duscur as well. Just as the song ends, he bends closer to your ear.

“I think Dedue would like to have a dance with you as well. He is a bit shy, but if you wait patiently close by him he may gather enough courage to ask you, unless of course you ask him first.” Dimitri smiles as your face turns completely red.

You can feel the burn of the blush all the way to the back of your neck. You curtsey as the song ends and he leaves to find another partner. You just happen to be close to where Dedue is standing, the tall man is against the wall, his hands behind his back, eyes flitting from couple to couple. You decide to stand not far from the Duscur male.

Watching the students dance, Claude pulls Professor Byleth out onto the floor. You laugh at the shocked look on her face. Balthus is dancing with Manuela. He has a grin from ear to ear as he twirls her around, making her laugh. Perhaps this is what everyone needs, to have a night to forget about their problems and issues going on and simply enjoy themselves, if just for a little while. You find yourself swaying with the music as you look over at Dedue who takes a step towards you.

“Are you enjoying the ball?” Dedue asks softly, smiling pleasantly.

“Yes. I was not looking forward to it, however now that I am here it is nice. It is good to see our friends simply being happy.“ You answer him. “Would you like to dance?”

Dedue bows, “It would be my honor.” He says, taking your hand in his.

He is so incredibly tall. The top of your head is well below his shoulders. You have to crane your neck to look into his face, but it is worth it to see his gentle smile.

The white haired man looks down at you, “You are small.”

You nod as you smile, trying not to laugh because compared Dedue, absolutely everyone is small.

Dedue continues, “You are very strong.”

You blush, mashing your forehead into his chest. This giant man just said you were strong.

He is not finished. “And cute.”

Your ears are burning because you are blushing so hard. You’ve never been cute before. You’re having a hard time looking into his eyes while you are blushing so hard, so you decide to focus your sight on his strong handsome chin. Breathe, don’t forget to breathe.

“You have many wonderful talents. Not only fighting and helping Dimitri.” You tell Dedue, daring to look in his eyes again. “In the village I was impressed by your construction skills. Your assistance helped us complete more buildings than we had originally planned. Thank you.”

You both smile at each other as you continue to dance for the rest of the song, as it ends, you curtsey, he bows.

Before you take one step toward exiting the dance floor, Claude mysteriously appears behind you, taking your right hand in his. He kisses the back of your hand.

“May I have this dance, my Deer?” Claude smiles widely at you.

“I cannot say no to our Leader-man. That would be against the rules. Not that you pay much attention to rules, Claude.” You laugh as you place your left hand upon his shoulder.

Dancing with Dimitri and Dedue had been proper and elegant. Their steps carefully measured, in perfect time with the music. Dancing with Claude is like holding on to a leaf in a whirlwind. You moved up, then down back then right then spun and twirled. One time he had spun you around you thought he was trying to fling you into the middle of the orchestra. You think it strange, then funny, then you begin to laugh. He twirls you away from him, then pulls you to twirl the opposite way around toward him, your chest lightly crashing into his as you laugh together.

His steps suddenly fall back in with the tempo of the music, you following. Your laughter calming, you gasp a bit as you are slightly out of breath, and dancing very closely with Claude. You feel his right arm around you, his fingers close to the center of your back, his chest is warm against you.

“Hilda told me that if I play my cards right that I might get to dance with a beautiful princess tonight.” Claude purrs softly in your ear. “I think I have a winner here.”

You blush profusely, trying to look away from his dazzling emerald eyes and failing. Claude’s grin is as wide as you have ever seen it. Suddenly the music concludes. The orchestra takes a brief break.

He bows and you curtsey back.

“Thank you, princess (y/n).” Claude Grins.

“Thank you, Duke von Riegan.” You smile.

Hilda runs up to drag Claude off to gossip about who knows what as you grab a seat and catch your breath. You will have to honestly thank Hilda for making you go to this. You catch your breath in the quiet during the orchestra’s break. Your heart has simmered down after beating at such an excited rate for so long.

You glance about the room. Looking left you see the orchestra has returned, preparing to begin, to your right you see two different redheaded gentlemen headed your direction. Oh my…

#fe3h #Fire Emblem Three Houses #feth #fe3h x reader #golden deer #fe16 #claude von riegan #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dedue

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probablydinosaurs · 3 years

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im bored. have my sexuality/gender hcs for the golden deer kids claude: 100% bi gnc. more into men then woman but has types. modern au claude 100% wears skirts no shame. just strong pride boy. tiktok boy in a maid dress

hilda: fem lesbian enby. not really a gender/sexuality hc but she would totally try to get boys to hold her (and Marianne’s) books to class. rip Sylvain. modern au, wears very androgynous clothes that are still frilly and pink.

Raphael: cishet but strong alley. himbo.

lorenz: l...look at him. gay gay gay. though still has some straight boy vibes.

lysithea: mmmmmmmmmmmmm a toughie....bi curious. shes like 15. she doesnt know what she wants yet or who she is due to the universe being stinky and her focused on school. though i think she thinks most of the girls are pretty and thinks its jealousy/envy but little does she know.

ignatz: mmm id say closeted gay but time ship him kiiinda meh..... soft bi fem energy. would have a “omg i can wear dresses and feel pretty??? but...boy???” moment if given the realization

marianne: bi. 99% into girls but she probs really likes very non flirty.just really nice guys guys like ignatz or Claude (kinda ship her with claude and idk why but her and hilda are still girlfriends)

Leonie: huge lesbian. even as a gay girl, she still oddly has the vibes of a straight husband with a bi wife and is forever supportive. can rock both a fem and Butch look

#fire emblem #fe3h #claude von reigen #hilda valentine goneril #raphael fe3h #i give up taging

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armatization-a · 3 years

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( @blade-of-fraldarius )

👫 can I say "all of them"?

[ send a 👫and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship ; accepting ]

you sure can!

cut for length lol

Lorenz/Leonie;

- he writes poetry for their one year anniversary. of marriage? no. of, you know. ‘fucking’. he starts referring to her flower and she leaves. she’s gone. goodbye. forever.

- Leonie helps keep Lorenz grounded. like she makes him realise he’s being a complete dick to the poor and he should stop. it starts as a point of contention but i do think he can at least EMPATHISE with poor people

- if he does propose, he doesn’t only give her a ring (it’s tradition blah blah) but something practical as well. God he probably tries to make smth out of recycled materials. it’s bad. it’s so bad. do not marry this man!!!!!!!

- God even if they do get married she doesn’t get dressed up or anything. she’s still Leonie. so she’s in her merc gear and he’s in his ‘normal’ (aka way too fancy) clothes. they make a notorious pair round the round table lol

Liggy;

- he has so many doodles of her from war time. way too many. it’s not just her happy, but also melancholic, and the rage in her eyes when she’s casting, and and and 😳

- i don’t think they’d waste much time. Lysithea knows she’s going to die. she’s going to take her happiness, even when Ignatz is too shy to initiate. poor guy

- losing her utterly breaks him. for a long time. their relationship would be short, but due to the concentration of the time spent together, five years feels like fifty. he doesn’t paint for a while: his last painting is of her for the longest time

- this isn’t much of a headcanon but she’s 100% his first love. no wonder he ends up utterly crushed when she dies

Serephine;

- Seres' proposal - her official one - is long and rambling. she mumbles a lot of what she wants to say, because she's embarrassed and feelings are dumb and 🥺 and girl

- they still have their bicker moments. usually over stupid shit. it's never major, but they also never have big blow ups either. it's all just little spats that can be solved within minutes

- Delphine gets hugged. a lot. without much warning. the girl looks like she needs constant affection and the husband is here to deliver!! kisses 😙

- i do feel like Seres tried way too hard to impress her all the damn time. gotta show off manly strength by... picking up heavy objects. she's so weird.

Alstophe;

- while Al is trying to figure out how to talk to humans and not just Dog, I feel like sometimes he'd say smth to Dog that he'd wanna say to Chris. Chris is there, but you know. easier to look at and talk to Dog

- their love languages clash wayyyy too hard to start with. they don’t really get each other. Chris uses too many words, and Al doesn’t use any. breaking that barrier takes a while lol

- Al has to say ‘i love you’ first. Chris won’t. he’ll overthink it and chicken out and WHAT IF AL DOESN’T FEEL THE SAME AAAAA. sadly, once Al says it, Chris does NOT stop saying it. like he’s wearing a badge of honour

- hilariously enough, Chris takes to stepfatherhood way sooner than Al takes to parenthood. it helps that Chris is... hm. caring. i dunno if Al would resent him for it or just be like “well at least someone cares about the kid”. poor Wolf someone love him

#↻┊ LORENZ ( headcanons. )#↻┊ IGNATZ ( headcanons. )#↻┊ SERES ( headcanons. )#↻┊ CHRISTOPHE ( headcanons. )#i did wanna include ship kids but BOY that'd be LONG

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aegir-emblem · 5 years

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Online Learning: Golden Deer Edition

Byleth: *Doesn’t want to be there but it’s required that they at least make an effort to advance the students’ learning. Stays silent while they try to figure out how to use the online learning tools and probably has muted the whole class.*

Claude: *Pretends that he’s at least participating in an effort to make everyone feel better about being lonely, but really has his Switch propped up against the computer and has been crushing Hollow Knight the whole time. Comments on stuff the Professor says with an empty Caprisun pouch hanging out of his mouth.*

Hilda: *At Marianne’s house on her webcam, clearly ignoring the “social distancing”. Comments frequently on how webcams seem to make everyone look better. Is on her phone most of the time or will strike up a conversation as if this is a group FaceTime.*

Marianne: *Spending time with Hilda, tired and trying to pay attention but making no effort to take notes or learn. Keeps out of the webcam as much as she can, at least her face, and enjoys when Hilda shows her cute animal videos.*

Raphael: *That one guy that eats but has the headphone mic so close to his face. Probably one of the first muted as he’s munching on Hot Cheetos and talks really loudly. Casually probably doesn’t wear a shirt on camera. Will fall asleep on-call or just get up and leave to go to the bathroom or work out without muting himself.*

Lorenz: *Dressed to the finest, cleaned his room, has an overly aesthetic set-up in the background as if this is a livestream. Gives pointers on how to use the online tools to the Professor whenever they slow down to figure stuff out, and scolds the others for being annoying (@ Raphael) or disruptive. Doesn’t realize that he was muted by most of them at the beginning of the session.*

Ignatz: *Doing classwork on his own from the textbook, but is there for moral support. Doesn’t interrupt unless he’s asking for a repeat or where the assignments will be posted later. Probably caught up on all of the material. Dressed in very comfy poet clothes, sweaters and whatnot. We wonder how he got into the library when campus is on quarantine, until it’s realised that that is his room.*

Lysithea: *Basically the same as Ignatz, but engaging in the conversation with the Professor and is probably the only one in the Whiteboard/Show Work tab of the call. Has a sleeve of Oreos next to her with no shame. Will not hesitate to tell people to shut up if they aren’t muted.*

Leonie: *In pajamas, engaging in the conversation and asking questions, but making no effort to take notes and will probably forget about it tomorrow. Set up in the worst possible part of her house, so the background looks like a mess and everyone is mildly concerned. Probably leaves early to go work out and comes back without showering. Powerbars and protein shakes are the only sustenance here.*

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #golden deer #claude von riegan #hilda valentine goneril #byleth eisner #marianne von edmund #raphael kirsten #ignatz victor #leonie pinelli #lysithea von ordelia #lorenz hellman gloucester #online learning #quarantine #social distancing #coronavirus #headcanons

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legendsoffodlan · 4 years

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100 Follower Special!

Welp, we made it to 100 followers! Our first major milestone! Thanks everyone, and here’s a little something special as thank you.

GOLDEN DEER WEDDINGS

Claude

Byleth and Claude actually get married twice. Once to satisfy the Church of Seiros and a second time in Almyran tradition. It doesn’t really matter, they’re both disasters

It’s not as much as a disaster as it could of been, if only because Judith is there to keep everyone in line. The Garreg Mach staff still speaks her name in fear.

Nader was totally not sobbing the whole time no matter what that that lying bastard Holst says.

Alois and Seteth throw hands over who gets to give Byleth away. Flayn is the one who actually does it.

Hilda

There are only a few things that Nader the Undefeated fears. One of them now is a motivated Hilda. She is going to make the PERFECT wedding. No matter how much blood she must spill.

Byleth does their best to minimize the damage, but Hilda is motivated for the first time in her life and nothing is going to stop her.

Balthus gets made flower girl. He rocks the dress.

Holst had to be restrained as his baby sister got married, sobbing the whole time.

Lorenz

Byleth and Lorenz’s wedding is something that will go down in history as one of the most entertaining disaster in Alliance History.

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester will, of course, tolerate nothing but the best for himself and his spouse. He tries to get everyone on their best behavior but, come on Lorenz, this is their best behavior.

Leonie spikes the punch, Ignatz is terrified to present his paintings of the couple because he’s convinced they’re shit, and Raphael got at the buffet before the reception starts.

Plays will be written about this. Lorenz despairs. Byleth laughs.

Leonie

When the people of Leonie’s village learn that the scrappy little spitfire they sent off the the Academy is going to be Queen of Fodlan and that the wedding is being held in their village... well they’re not as surprised as they should be.

Every villager gives Byleth the Shovel Talk. Even the little kids. In full view of Catherine who just laughs about it.

No one wears shoes, everyone gets drunk, Leonie roasts all the guests, and Claude sets off illegal fireworks.

All in all, a night the Alliance will never forget.

Ignatz

If you think that Ignatz won’t paint the most beautiful portrait of Byleth in honor of their wedding then you are wrong.

Lorenz and Claude insist on paying for everything, despite the small nature of the wedding.

Raphael is in tears because his Best buddy is getting married”, and wraps the happy couple in a bone-crushing hug the entire time.

All in all, it’s probably the least disastrous out of the bunch.

Marianne

Marianne doesn’t want a big or grand wedding. No, their wedding is a small and private affair, with only the Golden Deer themselves, her real family, in attendance.

Byleth surprises her by training Dorte to act as ring bearer.

Marianne is a vision of beauty in her dress and cries tears of joy as they say their vows.

She never dreamed she could ever be this happy.

Raphael

When his little sister hears that her brother is getting married to royalty, she storms over to Garreg Mach in all her five foot-nothing glory and immediately hijacks preparations alongside Hilda and Lysithea.

She is a tiny force of nature. Nothing can stop her. Her name is only uttered in the kitchen staff’s darkest moments.

Raphael doesn’t get all the fuss, he’s marrying his dream spouse and his friends and family are going to be there. That’s the only part that matters to him.

He insists on carrying Byleth all the way to the reception. he doesn’t even break a sweat.

Lysithea

At first Lysithea didn’t even want to waste time on a wedding. She felt that she didn’t have time for it. But if it’s to Byleth... it just might be worth it.

Every male Golden Deer brawl to find out who gets to give Lysithea away. They seem to have forgotten that she has a father who is more than happy to give his daughter to her dream spouse. (Ignatz wins the fight if anyone was curious)

Claude cries. Leonie cries. Everyone cries.

Lysithea swear that they will be happy together, for however long that may be.

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golden-deer-dear · 5 years

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What We Deserve, Claude x Byleth Fluff

Summary: Claude and Byleth are intent on breaking down the walls between Almyra and Fódlan, and they're starting with their wedding.

A series of snapshots of their wedding day.

Notes: My entry for the @claudlethweek prompt, which was traditions. Hope you guys enjoy!

Read on AO3.

What We Deserve

"I want to spend the night with my wife!" Claude whined as he draped himself over a fainting couch. He had spent most of the day running from Lorenz, but his friend had finally caught up with him and dragged Claude into a large chamber covered in maps and tapestries depicting battles fought long ago. Claude guessed this was the room in which Holst usually held his war councils, and was cleared out just for this special occasion. (Ever since Byleth and Claude had asked Holst to take over the Locket for the ceremony, Holst had taken his duty as host very seriously.)

"She is not your wife until tomorrow," Lorenz pointed out while pouring himself a glass of wine. He completely ignored the melodramatic pout Claude shot his way, refusing even to look at the newly crowned Almyran king sprawled out over a plush couch like a spoiled child.

“Well, spending all night in prayer to the goddess doesn’t sound like much fun either,” Claude said, continuing to sulk.

Lorenz and Sylvain both laughed, making Claude feel like he was missing out on the joke. Even Felix was fighting back a smile when he looked up at them all. “Technically what we’re supposed to be doing,” Sylvain said as he popped the cork out of another bottle of wine. “Not that anyone ever really does that.” He poured a much too generous amount of wine into a goblet and handed it to Claude. “Drink up, buddy.”

Claude’s pout fell away, replaced by a much more interested gleam in his eyes. “So this is what you do instead?” he asked as he took the offered cup. “Get drunk and eat too much?”

Raphael laughed, already piling a ridiculous amount of food onto his plate. “It’s a celebration! What better way to tell the goddess you’re thankful for all the good things in your life than by actually showing her?”

Claude raised his cup in a salute. “Well said, Raph.”

“Yeah!” Raphael cheered through a mouth full of food. “Besides, we’ve got a ton of food! It’d be a shame to let it go to waste! And there’ll be more tomorrow too!”

“Yes,” Lorenz drawled, staring at the large man with a bit of endearment, but mostly disgust. “We’ll be attending feasts for the next week, what with how you and the Professor have agreed to honor each culture of your respective cultures.”

“You don’t think we deserve it after all this?” Claude asked lightly, taking a sip of wine.

Lorenz sighed a bit melodramatically, his shoulders slumping to add to the act. “I suppose we do.”

“We’re really happy for you, Claude,” Ignatz added, looking like he wasn’t sure where he should be at the moment. “You and the Professor have done so much for us, we wish you the best.”

“Well said,” Sylvain agreed, raising his glass. “While I am saddened that it will not be me waiting for our beloved Professor before the altar tomorrow, I could not have lost to a better man.”

“Careful now,” Claude said as he leaned back into the couch, raising his cup to his lips to hide the grimace of annoyance that crossed his face. “Keep talking like that, and those words might find their way back to Ingrid.”

Sylvain blanched, while Felix outright laughed. “Ah well, to you and the Professor!” Sylvain managed to finish before tipping his glass back. Despite the nature of the first part of the toast, the other men in the room drank as well, Lorenz shaking his head at their first Blue Lion transfer.

“You got all that?”

Claude turned to look as Cyril opened the door to the large chamber the men had taken over. Someone, Claude suspected was Ashe, walked through with a tray ladden so high with food there was no way he could see over it. “Ah, yes, thank you, Cyril.” Yep, definitely Ashe.

“Here, let me help ya!” Without waiting for an answer, and despite Ashe’s previous assurance, Raphael swept the tray out of Ashe’s hands, leaving the poor boy blinking in shocked confusion, before depositing it on the table with the rest of the food they had already acquired.

Claude’s mouth watered as the scent of onion and saffron floated on the air. “That smells amazing.”

“I hope it tastes good,” Ashe said nervously. “I got the recipe from one of the women that came with your mother.”

Claude looked at the tray, smiling widely at the sight. “Are they cakes?” Lorenz asked.

“A rice cake,” Claude clarified. “It’s got chicken and yogurt in it too. One of my favorites when I was a kid. I haven’t had it in....a really long time.”

“My mom used to make those,” Cyril said softly, his eyes lighting up with happy memories.

The Fódlan born nobles looked at the cakes suspiciously. Ignatz, Raphael, and Cyril were quick to dig in. Claude launched off the couch toward the tray. “Hey! Save some for me!”

And so, Claude spent the night before his wedding feasting and drinking with some of his closest friends. When Sylvain challenged him to a game of chess, Claude showed him no mercy. The only thing that would have made it better was if Byleth had been allowed to join them.

Spring was well under way, but this far up in the mountains there was still a nip in the air. Byleth enjoyed it, content as a light wind blew around them. Holst had cleared out an outdoor section of the keep for her and ‘her ladies’ (as he had taken to calling them). He and Seteth were around somewhere, patrolling to keep unwanted visitors away from the small bridal party. (Although, Flayn had proven to be the most terrifying option to run into. Her disarming smiles made whomever she aimed them at feel as if they had disappointed the goddess herself.)

“All right, so we have options,” Hilda said, uncharacteristically serious. She set a large box in front of Byleth, who simply stared back at her.

Leonie snorted from her position next to Odette, helping Claude’s mother check over some substance called henna. Hilda ignored her and opened the box, revealing golden jewelry. Byleth leaned forward to study them, seeing that all contained little details that were Hilda’s signature trademarks.

“Did you make all of these for me?”

Hilda flushed lightly. “I just brought a selection of my latest designs,” she said too quickly. “I figured we would let you choose first, and then the rest of us could choose something so we matched.”

“That was sweet of you,” Marianne said in her soft voice, making Hilda flush even deeper. Byleth shared a look with Leonie, and they quickly moved to hide their laughter.

“Ooooh, these are so pretty!” Annette squealed, leaning over Byleth’s shoulder to get a better look.

“Oh, this necklace is beautiful.” Dorothea joined them, pulling out a rose shaped pendant made of tiny rubies and emeralds.

“It is,” Byleth agreed. “But I think that would look better on Leonie than on me.”

“Me?” Leonie almost shrieked. Odette clicked her tongue when the other woman almost spilled the henna in her shock. “I don’t really do jewelry, so I’m good.”

“But Lorenz would certainly like it,” Hilda pointed out, her turn to look smug as Leonie went bright red.

Odette was silent as she joined them, setting up her bowls and brushes in front of Byleth. She took Byleth’s hand in her own and began to work as the girls continued to talk. “Do not choose a necklace for yourself,” she instructed. “I brought something for you to wear as well.”

Hilda latched onto those words and immediately focused her attention on Claude’s mother. “I would love to see it!”

Odette smiled, still focused on Byleth’s hands as she began to apply the henna, but said, “Mercedes, please bring over the box in my belongings inlaid with the golden sun.”

“Oh, certainly.” It did not take Mercedes long to find the specified box and bring it over to the group. When Odette nodded, she opened it, all of the women gathered around gasping at the beauty of the choker laying on black velvet. Mercedes took it from the box and placed it around Byleth’s neck. The large emerald resting against her throat caught the noonday light, reminding her of her fiance's eyes.

“We are bringing the wine!” Petra’s loud announcement broke through the silence that had settled over the group, and everyone relaxed back into their easy chatting as she and Ingrid poured everyone a glass.

“Petra! You should braid the Professor’s hair!” Dorothea suggested happily.

“Yes! That would be amazing!” Hilda agreed readily.

Petra smiled at Byleth hesitantly. “That would be wonderful,” Byleth said, answering Petra’s unspoken question. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Petra shook her head and took a place behind Byleth. “I do not be minding.”

“Oooh, you’re going to be so pretty!” Annette squealed again. Byleth was finding out that wedding apparently made the younger woman a bit giddy.

“Claude’s going to cry when he sees you,” Hilda said with a smirk.

“All right, I finished it.”

Byleth turned to Lysithea. The young woman had gone off earlier that morning, and no one had been able to find her since. Now it seemed she had returned, brandishing...a flower crown? She blushed at Byleth’s questioning look. “I know you are dressing in Almyran tradition, and Claude is doing the same with Fódlan fashions, but this isn’t exactly something for Claude.”

Seeing that Byleth was still confused, Mercedes continued the explanation. “The youngest member of the bridal party makes a crown of lilies for the bride to wear. It is supposed to represent her devotion to the goddess.”

Byleth raised her eyebrows, and turned back to Lysithea. “It doesn’t have to mean that. I mean, you practically are the goddess, but I just thought…” The young woman trailed off, uncharacteristically unsure of herself.

“I like it,” Byleth said simply. “Petra, can we integrate it into your design?”

“Yes, of course.”

For the first time in a long time, Byleth felt truly relaxed. Her former students...no, her friends, chatted around her, helping her choose the finishing touches for her outfit tomorrow. Tomorrow. Byleth smiled softly and touched the emerald at her throat, thinking of just what all this was for. Tomorrow she would marry Claude.

Odette noticed, squeezing Byleth’s hand gently. “You really love my son, don’t you?” Her question went unheard by the others. Dorothea had roped them into helping her convince Ingrid to wear makeup for the ceremony.

Byleth’s smile grew wider, unable to hide her happiness. “Yes.”

“Good. He needs a woman like you.”

Byleth frowned in concern, until she heard the noise again. With a sigh, she went to the window and waited. “That took you longer than usual,” Byleth said as Claude dragged himself into the room. He rolled gracelessly, crashing onto the floor. A moment later he held something up, giving a triumphant cry.

“Yeah, well I was carrying something.” Claude indicated the covered tray in his hands. “I brought you some food.”

“Are you drunk?” Byleth asked, watching as Claude got himself to his feet.

He held his fingers very close together in front of his face. “A little bit.”

Byleth laughed softly and shook her head. “Claude, you know we’re not supposed to see each other until the ceremony.”

“I know!” Claude whined like a wounded puppy. “But to be fair, it’s too dark in here for me to actually see you. And Ashe made tahchin, and I really wanted you to try it.”

“You’ll have to feed it to me,” Byleth said. There was the hint of a tease in her voice, one which Claude would usually catch onto easily, but this time it seemed to fly right over his head. “Your mother will kill me if I mess up her work.” She wiggled her fingers at him, but it really was too dark for him to make out the details of her henna.

“I can do that.” Claude crashed into a chair, pulling Byleth into his lap. He removed the cover of the tray and picked up some of the food, trying to aim for Byleth’s mouth. He missed completely, smashing it against her cheek.

“Claude!” Byleth laughed, trying to brush the rice from her cheek.

Claude joined in her laughter, burying his face against her shoulder. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of her. Byleth could feel him relax against her back. “Stars, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Claude,” Byleth answered back, brushing Claude’s unruly hair back out of his face. She kissed his forehead, content to simply snuggle against the man she had chosen as her own. They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

Lorenz waking them up with a shriek about decorum was rather amusing. And honestly, Byleth could not think of a more perfect way to start off her wedding day.

Byleth’s breath caught in her throat as she peeked around the corner, managing to catch a glimpse of Claude. He was so handsome she felt she needed to remind herself how to pull air into her lungs.

She watched as he adjusted the sleeve of his tunic, its light gold color matching her dress. The surcoat he wore over it was a soft green, a few shades darker than Byleth’s eyes, and a darker gold. It was emblazoned with the Crest of Flames on the left side, right above his heart, and the Crest of Riegan on the right. The surcoat draped a few inches below his knees, almost meeting his polished black boots. There was only an inch or so of the tight black leggings he worn on beneath, and Byleth felt herself flush slightly upon thinking of seeing him in just those leggings later.

Seteth said something to him, which Claude responded to with a laugh and that charming smile of his. His gloved hands rested on his belt, both inlaid with gems mapping out constellations in the night sky. His gloves showed ones from Fódlan, while the belt depicted those seen in Almyra.

Claude bent his head forward, that troublesome lock of hair falling forward into his face. He brushed it back, only for it to fall forward immediately. But then the music started, and Claude did not seem very interested in his hair any longer.

“Are you ready?” Alios asked her as the other members of the wedding party began to line up.

Byleth took his offered hand and nodded. Alois immediately began to tear up. “I wish your father could see you. He would be so proud,” Alois said, his voice quivering.

“I wish he was here too.” Byleth breathed deeply, her chest aching for a moment as she thought of Jeralt. “But, I know he would not have entrusted this task to anyone else besides you.”

Alois was full on openly weeping now. Byleth patted his hand and watched as Hilda linked arms with Marianne. Petra and Dorothea did the same, as did Sylvain and Ingrid, Felix and Annette, Ashe and Mercedes, Raphael and Ignatz, Lysithea and Cyril, and finally Lorenz and Leonie.

They entered the room before her, lining up on their respective sides. Claude had claimed Petra and Hilda to stand behind him, while Byleth had insisted that Raphael join her. Lorenz and Marianne looked very proud as they took their places as man and maid of honor.

And then all eyes turned back, eager for a sight of her.

Claude’s jaw dropped as Byleth was led into the room. They were separated by a crowd of well wishers, but his entire world shrank to her. She was always beautiful, but right now she simply stole his breath away.

Her dress was a light gold, decorated with tiny diamonds that made her gleam when she moved. He had never before seen her in Almyran fashion, but there was something about the short sleeved top and flared skirts that suited her. As Alois escorted her down the aisle toward him, those skirts, upon which were embroidered golden wyverns, the very symbol of Almyran royalty, flared around Byleth.

She held her head high, her eyes shining with joy as she looked at him, just as unable to tear her eyes away from him. Her hair was pulled back and braided, no doubt Petra’s work with how elegant the design. The red veil was sheer enough that Claude could see every detail beneath. Someone had woven together a crown of white Fódlan lilies and set it upon her head as well.

As she drew closer, Claude could hear the tinkling of her jewelry. Bracelets of gold hung from her wrists, and it sounded like she wore some on her ankles as well, hidden by the layers of skirts. There was a choker around her neck made of heavy gold and emeralds, the very one he knew his mother wore on her wedding day.

With tears on his cheeks, Alois guided Byleth’s hand to Claude’s. His heart skipped a beat as he held her lightly, pulling her closer to him. He could clearly see the whirls of henna on her arms now. There were stars woven into the designs on her fingers, while he noticed a sun and crescent moon on the back of her hands, rotating around a mandala.

“You look like you stepped out of my dreams,” Claude whispered to her, blinking rapidly at the sudden urge to cry. He chuckled to himself. Only Byleth would have him weeping with joy.

Byleth blushed, but held his gaze. “Putting that golden tongue to use a little early,” she teased.

Seteth cleared his throat, reminding Claude that there were other people besides the two of them in the world. The ceremony began, but Claude went through it in a daze. He said his vows, promising himself to Byleth, and intertwined their fingers when their hands were bound together with a thick piece of forest green silk. It was with wide smiles on their faces that they tore off chunks of bread to feed to one another, and worked as a team to take a drink from a goblet full of sweet wine.

They were finally allowed to exchange rings. Byleth sighed softly in relief as Claude’s ring was once more placed on her hand, holding it close to her chest and gracing him with the sweetest smile. Claude was grateful that he had been allowed to slide the ring on her first, because he needed Byleth to take his hand for him, guiding her mother’s resized ring onto his finger.

And then Seteth officially declared them husband and wife. He did not even get the entirety of his sentence out before Claude was sweeping Byleth into a kiss so passionate it was right out of a romance novel.

The room erupted into cheers around them, but Claude simply held Byleth tight, never wanting to let her go ever again.

“Are you ready?”

Byleth looked at Claude’s offered hand uncertainly. Their guests were fed, and their friends had given their speeches. Even Felix had offered a few words of encouragement. But now there was dancing. Dancing in the middle of a crowd was fine, but they would be no other couples this time. All eyes would be on them.

Claude, seeing her hesitation, offered her a gentle smile as well, one she had only ever seen when he looked at her. “Do you trust me?”

Byleth slid her hand in his and allowed Claude to pull her from her seat. “Of course I do.”

“Then trust I won’t lead you wrong, my love.”

He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. There was a brief moment, a breath of time, where the world stood still as she stared into Claude’s eyes, and everything else fell away. The music started, and Byleth no longer cared that anyone was watching them.

The dance steps were a Fódlan waltz, but done to an Almyran tune. It meant that she and Claude were probably dancing the fastest waltz in history. They were practically flying across the dance floor, and Byleth laughed as Claude spun her around.

By the time the song was over, Byleth did not want to stop.

There was one tradition Claude was not having anything to do with. It happened to be the one tradition both Fódlan and Almyra shared. When it came time for the bride and groom to leave the festivities, Claude insisted upon escorting Byleth himself by himself.

Usually there would be a whole host of their closest friends following behind, who would help the couple out of their finery. It was intended as a blessing to their union, but there was a darkness that settled over him when Claude thought of anyone else getting to see Byleth like that.

Their bed would be more than blessed. He did not need help in that area.

So Claude shooed them all away with gentle but firm insistence, all of them laughing knowingly as he told them to go back to the party. Byleth slid her hand in his and leaned against his side, content as they began the journey to the chambers prepared for them.

“I didn’t want them to see you like that either,” she said softly.

And yet again, Byleth managed to make his brain forget how to work. Claude stopped in mid step to stare down at her. Byleth looked back at him questioningly, concern creeping into her eyes. Claude bent down to pick her up, throwing Byleth over his shoulder. She let out a small gasp of surprise, before it turned into that melodious laughter he loved so much.

“Claude, what are you doing?”

“I’m about to show my lovely wife the time of her life.”

Claude carried Byleth all the way to their rooms like that, his wandering hands caressing her bottom. He did not set her down until they reached their bed, and Byleth was quick to pull him down to join her.

Byleth woke to sunlight streaming in through the windows. Claude’s warmth was a comfort beside her. It was not the first time she had woken up next to him, most definitely not the first time they had spent the night in each other’s arms, but something about waking up as his wife made her heart swell. He had entrusted her long ago with his dreams, but now he had told the entire world.

She reached out, gently brushing back that unruly bit of hair she loved to play with. Claude frowned and muttered something inaudible, attempting to bury his face in the pillow. Byleth chuckled softly, Claude’s eyes opening slightly at the noise. “I must have really worn you out last night,” she teased.

Claude’s frown deepened, and Byleth could see the start of a scheme forming in those emerald eyes. “Is that what you think?”

“Certainly seems that way.” Byleth rolled onto her back and stretched, feeling his eyes on her the entire time. She moved to slide out of the bed, but Claude’s arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back.

“I might have to take it as an insult then that you’re so energetic this morning then,” he murmured, sitting up to place a trail of kisses down her back.

“Well the answer to that is obvious.” Byleth sighed contentedly and leaned back in her husband’s embrace, enjoying the way his hands explored her. He had already mapped every inch of her body, but he never seemed content. He always seemed to need to redraw those maps, committing the feel of her to memory.

“Oh? Are you going to share this hidden knowledge with me?” Claude laid her back down, leaning over her as he began to work his way down her body. She shivered in anticipation as his lips journeyed across her stomach.

“I’m happy,” Byleth said simply.

Claude paused, fully positioned between her legs. Byleth caught the deep blush on his cheeks before he dove down, using her thighs to hide his embarrassment. “You know,” Claude murmured against her skin, “sometimes I wonder if you know what you do to me.”

“I do.” Byleth reached down, gently running her fingers through his hair. Claude laid his cheek against her leg and stared back up at her. If anyone saw that look in his eyes, they would have no doubt of his love for her, but Byleth preferred that look to be something for her alone. “But you’re just as aware when you do the same to me. And you enjoy it either way.”

Claude smirked and dipped his head back between her thighs, but not before leaving her with, “And I shall for the rest of our lives.”

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #claudeth #claude x byleth #claudeleth #my fic #fanfic #one shot #claude von riegan #byleth

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msbluebell · 5 years

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I really liked the picture you reblogged with the Sothis Cult worshipping Byleth/Cult!AU. How do you think that would come about? Maybe Jeralt decides not to leave and Byleth is raised in the church (maybe in secret for safety reasons?) and then is debuted when the Lords join the school? Because what better way to ensure the Goddess is safe then to socialize them with the future leaders of Fodlan? ;D

Byleth being raised in the Church, under Rhea’s strict care, is probably exactly how such a situation would come about.

As far as Rhea is concerned, Byleth is the success that she’s finally reached, a clear, living, body for the Goddess that can hold the power. All she has to do is wait for Byleth to be grown enough to sit on the throne, and then she’ll finally have her mother back.

Rhea’s interactions with Byleth, and her supports, clearly show exactly what she sees in them. Byleth is her mother, reborn. It’s up to interpretation whether she sees Byleth, themselves, as the Goddess just without memory, or sees a living body walking around that will house her mother.

I think, based on her dialog and the scene where she cradles a wounded Byleth in her lap and tries to comfort them, and based on her repeated use of the phrase “...you are my...”, I believe that she does, in fact, see Byleth as her mother reincarnated into another form and just bereft of the memories that make them Sothis.

...and she’s not even wrong if that’s what she believes, because that’s exactly the situation.

So as far as Rhea is concerned, she basically has her mother, the Goddess Sothis, back. They just need time for the Divine power to awaken.

As much as Rhea would like to keep Byleth secret, it’s pretty obvious that there’s a kid she favors running around. Especially with Jeralt freely having the ability to raise the kid himself within Garreg Mach. Everyone knows Rhea favors the child, for whatever reason. Most speculated, at first, that there was a blood relation of some sort.

But then Byleth starts getting older.

Byleth is a strange child. They don’t smile, or cry, or do things a child would typically do. They seem almost too old for their small body, and their gaze pierces the soul. They’re almost too skilled at swords and magics, and it’s somewhat unnerving.

Rhea clothes Byleth in the types of outfits Sothis used to wear. Long blue dresses, anklets, braids in the hair, and flowers and crown. She makes a lot of the clothes herself.

Jeralt is...unnerved by the way Rhea dotes on Byleth, the way she dresses her. He tried to ignore it at first. After all, Rhea created their mother, so that kinda make her Byleth’s family, their grandmother or something...right? And she clearly knows more about clothes and stuff for kids than he does.

But it’s...creepy. He knows something is up with his kid, he knows Rhea knows what it is, and there’s only so long he can go without answers.

He demands to know one knight, after Byleth is tucked away in bed, in an apartment Rhea had personally constructed for them, that he meets her to ask what in the name of the flames is going on with his kid.

Rhea is vague at first, but Jeralt is pissed, and persistent. She finally opens up after hours of needling.

Byleth is the goddess reborn, and once she’s grown, she’ll awaken her powers and memories.

It was supposed to be said in private, in confidence, in secret.

The nun that overheard them from where she hid behind the turn of the wall either didn’t care, or didn’t realize. She just rushed off to tell the others what she heard from the Divine Archbishop herself.

By noon half of Garreg Mach has heard the rumor, whether they believe or not is mixed, because it was just one nun that spread the word, but still, half believe and are looking at tiny Byleth with her too fine clothes and her too serious face in a different light. Half the monastery is convinced now, and start treating her as they would the goddess herself.

There’s fierce debate over the matter, accusations of blasphemy. Jeralt is becoming more and more creeped out by this, especially when people start thinking he should be sainted or something. He’s heard the word “Father of the Divine” uttered when he walks by and he doesn’t like it.

Things really start getting out of hand with fights and debates. It gets to the point where Rhea has no choice but to speak on the matter.

It’s too late to hide the news, so she confirms everything.

It...makes things so much worse. Now it goes from half the people worshiping this child to ALL of them. The skeptics are isolated and shunned by their peers, rumor has spread beyond the walls, devout believers are flocking the doors, and even those who don’t believe are visiting just to get a look at this “goddess”.

Jeralt tries to set fire to the place and run away with Byleth, but there are too many people to do that now.

It gets to the point where they have to hide Byleth for the next several years in the most private and exclusive part of Garreg Mach and refuse to debut her. Seteth is brought in to help handle the overwhelming demands to see her and help run the suddenly much larger establishment.

Years pass like this, with Rhea refusing to let anyone see the “Goddess Reborn”, stating that she’s not ready.

Things get pretty cultist within the church itself, despite Seteth and Jeralt’s best attempts to stop that shit. Jeralt can’t take two steps outside without someone trying to get him to pass a prayer on to his kid.

Then, Byleth starts having the dreams. About the war, and the girl on the throne that wears the same outfit as her.

Rhea is delighted, but Jeralt can only despair.

Jeralt is out in Rumire Village, trying to solve an issue with bandits, when he meets the Lords and saves them. They recognize him, and it’s the first time in years he’s been recognized as the Blade Breaker than the Divine Father, and skepticism they all seem to have for the latter title makes him like them instantly.

He personally escorts them to the school.

When he gets there, Rhea, without his permission, decided to fucking debut his kid as the Goddess Reborn in front of the whole damn school and he may very fucking well kill everyone in this monastery out of sheer fucking frustration.

Rhea pulls him and the three little Lords aside and states she intents to have Byleth in a house of the kid’s own choosing, as a way to interact with humanity now that she was coming in to her own power. Jeralt doesn’t have to patience left not to snap at Rhea in front of the kids, especially with the way that Edelgard kid is eyeing Byleth like they’re a roach, or that Claude kid raises a skeptical eyebrow and looks at them like a lion that found it’s prey, or that Dimitri kid can only smile skeptically. He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on anymore, and Rhea should have waited for him. What is she even thinking.

It’s going to be a fight, later, but Byleth is right there, looking at the lords, and then at him, silently asking for his opinion.

“I don’t know, pick the Blue Lions I guess, I don’t care.” Jeralt waves off, because he’s going to have a fight with Rhea when this is over, and Blue Lions seems least harmful for now.

Byleth nods silently and walks up to Dimitri, choosing to go with him to the Blue Lion house as a classmate. Dimitri, can only nod, bewildered, and try and tentatively treat her with the respect a supposed Goddess deserves. Though he, too, is skeptical of all this.

Some students already believed. Marianne approached silently, eyes tearful when she met Byleth, and Ignatz nearly dropped his paintbrush he was so eager. Mercedes takes one look at Byleth and doesn’t know whether to bow or not, or even if she should speak. She wasn’t ready for this honor. Felix only scoffs, not believing for a moment in all of this.

He’s the first person to every bluntly ask Byleth if she’s really a goddess.

“I don’t know.” Byleth replies, and that’s all she ever says on the matter.

(It’s not a shock to her when Sothis awakens at last and she learns the truth, she’s been prepared for years).

Dimitri tries to make the other students treat Byleth normally...but it’s...difficult for them, to say the least.

It only becomes more difficult as time goes on, and Byleth pulls some impossibly impressive feats.

Still, Dimitri tries to treat her like anyone else, because he needs to, maybe, or because he doesn’t believe (or because he thinks he’s falling in love with that smile and he can’t let himself believe, or else he’ll lose her), but the evidence is mounting up higher and higher.

Until there’s a moment, where she rips a hole in the sky, that no one can reasonably deny it any longer.

#fe3h #fe16 #Dimileth #Cult AU #byleth eisner #jeralt eisner #Rhea #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #Sothis #asks #Blue Lion Route #Someone save them

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