#this is crimson flower route in case that wasn’t immediately obvious

[lieutenantraziel]

Happy Valentine’s Day with this extremely romantic picture for 2023 Dimilix Week! There’s so much more on Twitter, too, with the same tag.

[bloomandcoffee]

I’m starting to suspect, based entirely on musical cues, that there’s one reason why the track for the final map in Azure Moon is the same as the one used in Crimson Flower. 

Spoilers abound!

Of course, I must preface this by stating that I don’t trust IS authorial intent as far as I can throw it. But as far as musical cues go, FE3H does know how to pick them and pack them with meaning. 

See the Shambala musical cue whenever any of the Agarthans are on screen and how it doesn’t go full dubstep unless they reveal their technology. 

Or for example, the God Shattering Star (GSS) rendition in the prologue when Nemesis appears. In fact, there is an entire story in how GSS mixes with the song in the prologue when he challenges Seiros; how it overtakes the desperate tense violin when he gets the upper hand; and how it grows frantic when Seiros neutralizes and takes the Sword of the creator away from him.

There’s nothing but silence when Seiros confronts Nemesis.

All of that speaks of careful composition, and use of music and musical cues. What the prologue scene tells us is that Nemesis a) was a figure larger than life itself, since the music entirely changed the moment he appeared and b) GSS is his theme, his leitmotif, it takes off only when he appears and takes action. 

Players of Verdant Wind would immediately connect the theme of the final map to him, and would notice it every time they play the game. This is Nemesis, and the actions he takes, whether on the prologue or the final map, are his. There’s no Shambala tune in the prologue, nor is there any on the final map. The use of GSS is precise, the cues perfectly set for Nemesis only. 

The game wants you to know that GSS is Nemesis song. He’s unquestionably the final boss of Verdant Wind, the last foe to be defeated. 

Now if one takes the above as a consideration that the theme of the final map is the theme of the final boss there’s one big problem: Rhea. 

See, Rhea is the final boss of both Crimson Flower and Silver Snow, and yet the song of the final map differs in both routes. So, if the music for the final map is the theme of the final boss, why does Rhea have two different songs? Especially given that one them is used in the final map of another route where she doesn’t even appear?

Well, here’s where I may anger some, and the musical savvy can see where I’m going: musical cues.

Rhea in the game has a plethora of themes and musical cues. All of her meaningful interactions in White Clouds have an acapella that is derived from Song of Nabateans. A song that Sothis made, but Rhea sings. This also hints at both how marked she is by this memento of her mother (in case that wasn’t obvious by the prologue) and how her yearning for Sothis is present on her mind and actions. 

interestingly enough, there are none of her musical cues in the prologue. 

However, there is one heroic rendition of it when she makes the decision to sacrifice herself and be the last line of defense during the siege of Garreg Mach. She will not allow another Red Canyon, and so she transforms into a dragon, and it is a desperate attempt, as is the music that accompanies it. But it is a heroic rendition for a heroic resolve all the same.

Where are all her musical cues in the themes of the final maps where she’s the final boss? 

Funeral of Flowers. 

A track that is filled to the brim with all her musical cues, with somber and solemn renditions of Song of Nabateans, and of key battle themes throughout the game. Add to that the meaningful title of said song -and compare it to GSS and how it relates to Nemesis- and you have a match. After all which character is heavily associated with flowers? There was even a focused shot of the lilies Seiros wore in the prologue. Not only that but her death (or rather, her fall since you can save her in SS) shows Rhea falling in a rain of flower petals. 

FoF is Rhea’s theme, and it is fitting for her as the final boss in SS which tried to be a character focused story. Or, at the very least, focused on Rhea the most out of the other routes. 

So why is it then, that FoF is not the final theme of CF? It’s even somber enough for the madness Rhea does in Fhirdiad, and the last stand of those against an Empire. Where are her musical cues in Apex of The World that would tie her to this map?

There are none. Not even in the woman chorale. In fact there’s an obvious segment of Edge of Dawn (a.k.a. The girl from Hresvelg, which is the title in Japanese) in AoTW. Those are Edelgard’s theme and musical cues. 

How is that possible then? 

That’s because Edelgard is the final boss. You fight her as the final boss in Azure Moon, but you aid her as the final boss in Crimson Flower. It’s not that AM has no different final map track, it’s that the enemy is the same. 

Yes, Rhea is mad, Fhirdiad is up in flames, civilians are dying, but the music won’t ever let you forget you caused this entire mess. Edelgard’s ambitious self-righteousness, the Apex Of The World? In both final maps she’s now in place to destroy those that stand in the way of her ambitions.

In one route, she rises as the victor and conqueror, and in the other she is defeated. 

[darthdestiny07]

FE3H Half-Sister AU (Again)

Based off this.

Warning! Obvious Spoilers for Crimson Flower, Azure Moon, and Silver Snow Routes! Consider yourself warned and proceed at your own risk.

It was supposed to be a peaceful visit. Her father and brother were in the carriage ahead of them. As soon as they stopped, something happened and familiar and comforting arms wrapped around her waist.

"It's going to be fine, my darling. We'll see El soon."

Soldiers around them sprang forward, pulling out their weapons. She saw Glenn rush forward, a look of terror warping his face.

"Mother?" she asked quietly.

"Don't worry, Nia. You're safe with me." Her mother kissed her head, her lips brushing the child’s golden hair, but it did little to comfort the girl.

A familiar scream split the air, and Nia's heart nearly stopped. That was her brother! "FATHER!!!" The anguish in his voice made her blood turn cold. What had happened to their father?!

She broke free of her mother's embrace, hoping to see what happened. As she attempted to look out the carriage window, an unfamiliar face appeared. Nia scrambled back as he opened the door, brandishing a knife.

"What are you doing? We can't fight! Leave at once!" The order seemed to fall on deaf ears, as the man swung at her mother. She dodged his initial attack, lunging at him and struggling to take the sharp weapon from him.

Her mother looked back at her, her violet eyes wide with terror. "Trust nobody from the empire or kingdom, Aniya! Run!!!"

Terrified, Aniya escaped the tiny confines of the carriage from the opposite side. She fell onto the ground, scrambling to her feet.

"And where do you think you're going?" A man on a wyvern landed in front of her, blocking her escape route. He pointed his lance at her, the sharp tip dangerously close to her smaller body.

Gritting her teeth, she grasped the wooden shaft of his weapon. He loosened his grip in surprise. He clearly didn't know who he was dealing with! Wrestling his lance from his grip, she turned his own weapon against him. Knowing the weak points in his armor were the joints, Aniya went for them. He didn't live much longer, falling off his wyvern as a lifeless corpse.

Aniya seized his mount, taking to the sky as someone raced to stop her. He knocked an arrow, letting it fly through the air. Her shoulder throbbed with pain when his arrow found its target: her. Ignoring the pain, she urged the wyvern to leave this terrible place. As it obeyed her command, she glanced back.

Flames lapped at anything they could. Her father's carriage was completely engulfed in flames. His lifeless body lay on the ground close by. Her mother hadn't fared well, either. She was face down, lying in her own blood. Frantically, she looked for her brother. He wasn't too far away, but he was outnumbered. Someone came up behind him and struck him in the head.

"Dimitri!" Aniya cried as he crumpled to the ground. She clenched her jaw, turning back to focus on her route ahead.

She made it to Garreg Mach Monastery within a day. A knight greeted her, helping her down from the wyvern's back. She nearly collapsed in his arms, dizzy and disoriented from her wound.

"What happened? Where are you from?"

"It was supposed … to be peaceful …" Aniya didn't even protest as he picked her up to carry her. "My family … they're … dead …" Her grip on consciousness finally slipped, falling into the blissful unawareness of unconsciousness.

-----

Aniya didn't do much during her first week at the Monastery. Professor Manuela had done what she could for her wound, and it had healed nicely. But the bitter truth remained: she was an orphan. Her family had died that day.

Her grief left her no appetite or desire to train. She spent most of her time just staring blankly out at the fishing pond, or in the library when the evening fell.

She was just passing the dining hall, foregoing dinner again, when someone called out to her.

"Aniya!" A young woman with vivid mint green hair in corkscrews came up to her. "We've received some wonderful news! Your brother is alive!"

"Dimitri … is alive …?" Aniya felt some hope return to her. "Are you certain?"

"Yes! Although your parents are …" she trailed off.

"I know." Still, her brother was alive! "How is he? Do you know?"

"I don't know."

"That's alright. Thank you for telling me … um …"

"Flayn. Seteth's my older brother."

After that, Aniya perked up. She seemed to return to her old self, although she was haunted by nightmares of that day. Four years passed, and she received some exciting news.

Both her siblings were going to attend the Officer's Academy this year!

She watched the students attending this year enter the Monastery, hoping to catch a familiar blonde or brunette. After a week passed, she had started to lose hope they'd come.

Aniya was spending time in the library one evening when she noticed a gray-haired student struggling to reach a book high on a shelf. "Would you like some help?"

"Hm?" The student looked at her, eyes widening. "Oh, s-sure."

"Then up you go!" Without a second thought or hesitation, she lifted him up. He seemed stunned for a second, but retrieved the book he was seeking.

Once back on his feet, he turned to face his helper. Goddess, she was beautiful … "Th-thanks …"

"Heh, sorry. I should have warned you I'm stronger than I look. I got it from my father." She chuckled sheepishly.

"No, that's fine! You're just … you look like a princess from a storybook …"

"Oh. Thank you." Aniya smiled at the compliment. Nobody really paid much attention to the orphans around the Monastery, so getting a compliment was rare.

"What's your name?"

Aniya had just turned to return to her book when he asked. "Nia."

"Thank you for helping me, Mia. Are you a student here?"

"I will be attending the Officer's Academy, yes. Probably this year, if Seteth allows it."

"Do you know what house you'll be in?"

"Either the Black Eagles or Blue Lions. I'm not certain yet." Nia glanced over at the stained glass window, suddenly realizing how late it was. "Oh, I should be going now. It was nice to meet you!"

The next morning, Seteth called her to his office. Grumbling because she had been pulled from her morning training, she approached his office. A familiar voice greeted her ears before she turned the corner.

"I have someone I'd like you two to meet. They should be here any moment now."

Who was he addressing? Her curiosity bubbling behind her calm demeanor, she turned the corner and approached Seteth's office.

"Is it our mother?" Nia nearly froze and broke into tears when she heard that voice. It had been four years since she heard that beautiful tenor!

Excitement getting the better of her, Nia entered the office and knocked on the door to announce her presence. Seteth was facing her, a faint smile appearing when she entered the small room. Standing with their backs facing her were two students, the house leaders of the Blue Lions and Black Eagles. She recognized her brother immediately, but the white-haired young woman didn't look familiar to Nia.

The two turned to face her, and Nia couldn't hold her excitement and joy anymore. She nearly tackled her half brother and half sister to the ground in a tight hug.

"N-Nia?!" Dimitri was stunned. Not from her sudden hug, but from seeing her. "You're alive?"

The white haired woman who shared Nia's mother's eyes returned the young women's hug. "It's wonderful to see you again, my sister." Her sister … Edelgard. What had happened to her? That haunted look, her brown hair turning white …

"I missed both of you so much!" Nia stepped back, smiling with joy.

"How did you survive four years ago?" Dimitri asked.

Nia's smile fell. "U-um … I … I ran away. I should have stayed an--”

Edelgard quickly cut her off. “And it’s a good thing you didn’t. You would have probably died there. I don’t want to lose another part of my family. Now then, why don’t you come with me, and I can introduce you to the Black Eagles house? You’re more than welcome to join th-”

“She’d be more comfortable around familiar faces, Edelgard.” Dimitri cut off his step-sister and pulled his younger sister closer to him. “You remember Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid, right?”

Before Nia could answer, Edelgard cut in again. “In case you’ve forgotten, Dimitri, it’s been over five years since I last saw my sister. I believed her dead as well.”

“Do I have a say in this?” Nia asked, bringing the attention back to her. “I’d like to meet your friends, Edelgard. When introductions are finished, I’ll greet my old friends. I’m not officially joining the Academy just yet, after all. But I can still attend a class or two every week. As long as Seteth will let me, right?” She looked at her guardian.

“I suppose I can allow that …” Seteth nodded slowly. “You’ll be well protected with your siblings around, after all.”

“Why would she need protection?” Edelgard asked.

“We still haven’t found those responsible for initiating the Tragedy,” Seteth explained.

As the siblings left Seteth’s office after a quick farewell, Nia froze. Standing at the end of the hallway were two other young men, one that made her blood turn to ice when she saw him. He was clearly from Duscur, the same people that had mercilessly slaughtered her parents.

Dimitri noticed his sister’s hesitation and was about to talk to her when Edelgard led her away, toward her retainer. “Hubert, this is Nia, my sister. Nia, this is Hubert.”

“Hello, Hubert.” Nia nodded with a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And this is Dedue, a good friend of mine.” Dimitri motioned to Dedue.

“Hello.” Nia clearly forced a polite reply before returning her attention to her sister. “I’d love to meet your friends in the Empire, El!”

Dimitri watched, feeling the familiar pang of sadness in his heart as his sister walked away. He later explained to Nia why he trusted Dedue, which led her to question her memories of that terrible day. Had they really been attacked by the people upset with their father’s actions?

When the students had all arrived at the Academy, the professors took them out for some training exercises. Nia waited for their return patiently, only to fear the worst when her siblings hadn’t returned with the other students and two of the professors. Then when they did come back, they had a group of mercenaries with them.

Things only seemed to get worse from there. The third professor had fled when the students were attacked, leaving a gap that was filled by one of the mercenaries. The daughter of the Captain of the Knights of Seiros: Byleth. The Ashen Demon, as the rumors went. She decided to teach one of the houses her siblings led. And it seemed that Rhea and Seteth would assign them the most dangerous missions that the students could handle. When Nia approached her sibling to express her concern, she was assured that no harm would befall them, that Byleth hadn’t failed them yet and she just needed to trust the new teacher more.

Things didn’t change until Flayn was kidnapped.

Nia was sick with worry when Flayn went missing, almost as much as Seteth. She had grown to view Flayn as her sister the past four years. Thankfully, Byleth led the rescue of the young woman. It was after that when Seteth agreed that both Flayn and Nia would be safer among the students rather than the knights.

Nia spent more time with her siblings while among the students, finally joining Byleth on the monthly assignments.

It wasn’t until the Captain’s death things started falling apart. Her brother wasn’t acting the same. He was more on edge, changing from the caring brother she knew to some wild, battle-hungry stranger. Edelgard was writing more and more letters to her father in Enbarr, even leaving a couple times to return to the capital for a couple days.

Then Byleth went after the person who had killed her father. Nia watched in terror as the professor she had learned to rely on and trust was swallowed up, sacrificed for some terrible, dark magical spell. How her siblings fell apart at that. Dimitri breathed threats while Edelgard kept her composure. Then, when Byleth returned with a new hair color, things seemed to get better.

After that, Edelgard left for Enbarr, stating something had come up that required her urgent attention. She returned later, just before they were to accompany Byleth to the Holy Tomb for some form of communication with the goddess.

Edelgard revealed herself to be the Flame Emperor, the one challenging the Church of Seiros. The betrayal Nia felt at seeing her sister’s secret … she couldn’t believe it.

“Is this some kind of twisted joke?!”

Dimitri challenged Edelgard, who reached out to her sister for help.

Nia was now faced with a hard decision, one that would change her fate forever.

[girlafraidinacoma]

In The Lap of the Gods: Chapter Five -  "Yes, I’m gonna be a star!”

Summary: What do you get when you mix a tight-knit art community, young, hot-blooded twenty-something university students and good old-fashioned British Rock & Roll? Probably the next best hope for art and music that generation has to offer. With her friends’ band skyrocketing to fame, what exactly does a girl do when she suddenly finds herself sitting in the lap of the gods? The answer: do the only thing she can do, rise to the occasion of course!

Pairing: Gwilym Lee!Brian May x Original Female Character 

Author’s Note: *IMPORTANT UPDATE* I edited the previous chapters slightly just to finally give the story a proper timeline and a sense of consistency :) If you want to see the revisions, please check out the Ao3 link, if not, that’s cool too (08/05/19).

Kind of AU, contains both elements from real life and the Bo Rhap universe, so imagine whoever you prefer whether they be the real thing or the Bo Rhap Boys–be free.

[Link to the Ao3 fic!]

Chapter Playlist:

Child of the Universe - The Byrds

Crimson and Clover - Tommy James & The Shondells

Drive My Car - The Beatles

Chapter Five - “Yes, I’m gonna be a star!”

South Kensington, November 1969 .

The night had proven to be eventful, so much so that Wyn, Freddie, Brian and Roger thought it would be a wonderful idea to stay out until the wee hours of the morning or until they were physically ejected from the uni bar’s premises, whichever came first. That was how the four of them found themselves laughing and shouting maniacally; roving about London side-streets at around three a.m. on a Saturday morning. Currently, they were making their way back to Freddie and Roger’s place at a happy meandering pace that only drunks could manage. Yet, despite their various states of inebriation, they were managing to navigate the sprawling city with ease, dodging other revellers of the night along the way.

Roger had left his locked van at the university, deeming all of them too pissed to drive. He would come back for it later, he reminded himself. Brian, however, insisted on carrying his irreplaceable Red Special with them on their adventure home, heavy as the case may be, and ignored the others’ suggestion of leaving it at the bar or in the van with their other equipment. He would not be assuaged in the matter.

They had walked down from the Art College and caught the Tube from Ealing Broadway to South Kensington. The decision, which was suggested by Brian, had shaved off hours from their travel time had they humoured Roger’s massively over-confident ramblings about walking the whole way, saying how he’d ‘done it before’ when he was seeing a girl at the Performing Arts School. Perhaps Roger had walked the walk once, but the majority of the group had agreed that they would not be walking the nearly seven mile route to the flat, ‘no matter how many times you’ve done it before Roger, thank you very much’ . Wyn supposed that she could have walked home to her dorm, she lived in Ealing after all, but Freddie had been so insistent that they spend more time together and quite frankly, she wasn’t keen on their night being over yet.

Electricity surged through them as they walked their winding path over cobblestones, concrete and asphalt. They scorched a path through the nervous system of their town, feeling as vital as the blood that flowed in its veins. They felt as most do at that certain point in their lives, invincible, young and alive. Nothing but sheer will and the promise of a sweeter tomorrow propelled them, blindly, towards the future. As was the disease of youth.

At some stage during their journey, Freddie had linked his arm with Wyn’s and proceeded to lead the four of them in an impromptu skip-step interlude a la Dorothy Gale and company. Though the others tried to match Freddie in exuberance, their merry troupe only succeeded in nearly face-planting on the road with tripping feet and tangled limbs like some giant spider only just discovering its legs. Thankfully Brian, who had his arm snaked with Wyn’s on her left, had caught her before she fell. Freddie and Roger weren’t so lucky, but they were so drunk they probably wouldn’t feel it until the morning.

Wyn for one was grateful for his quick reflexes, even if it was his dastardly long legs which made her lose her balance in the first place. Well, that and the collective lack of physical coordination within the group in general. She was surprised that he even caught her at all, with far too many drinks between them and the case in his hand clunky as anything. But Brian held tight, and she knew that both she and “Red Spesh”, were in safe hands.

Their little stumble had left them cackling wildly, like it was the best joke they’d shared all evening; trudging on along, the blunder was soon forgotten. As Freddie and Roger forged ahead, determined to perfect the rapid skip-step change, she and Brian fell behind, chatting aimlessly about the colour shift of starlight, Edward Robert Hughes’ watercolours and Led Zeppelin II.

Wyn couldn’t help but note how Brian’s hold never faltered. The weight of his arm around her shoulders was pleasant, further remarking to him that there were certainly less uneven pavers underfoot now that he was doing the steering for them. He held on to her all the way home, perhaps even a little tighter.

About seven hours later, Wyn awoke from a deep sleep to the feeling of sunlight on her face and exposed arms. In her alcoholic haze, she had neglected to draw the curtains on the window before she turned in, and now the mid-morning light flooded Freddie’s narrow room, indicating the lateness of the hour. As she chased the remnants of sleep away, she recalled that ever the gentleman, Freddie had gallantly offered her his modest bed when they had arrived at the flat.

Rising, she quietly and neatly made up Freddie’s bed and fluffed his pillows. Having slept in only her crocheted camisole, and a pair of cotton knickers, she picked up her discarded denim skirt and socks from by the foot of the bed and slipped them on. She suddenly regretted wearing only so little, perhaps last night at the bar the alcohol and the closely packed bodies of her peers were enough to stave off the cold, but that was not the case this morning as the winter chill set in. Raiding the bombsite that called itself Freddie’s closet, she took out a thick woolen jumper and pulled it over her head, hoping Fred won’t mind her borrowing them for the time being. With her shoes nowhere to be seen, she went out of the room, curious as to where the rest of the boys were.

Padding to the next room, she knocked quietly on Roger’s bedroom door. When she received no answer she stuck her head in and peered inside. What she saw there gave her no shortage of delight, and left the incriminating scene silent as a mouse.

In the living area she found Brian’s guitar case sitting prettily on the armchair and its owner lying awkwardly on the ratty old couch. Her eyes quickly zoned in on the appearance of her missing boots at the foot of the couch that Brian was sleeping on. Vaguely, Wyn remembers her drunk and uncoordinated self struggling to pry them off her feet and Brian helping her with what seemed to be an insurmountable task at the time. He had voiced his worries that she would fall and split her head open when he had offered his assistance.

Somewhat more clearly now, Wyn remembers her body being racked with giggles as she tried not to sway so much with the alcohol in her system. She remembers standing above Brian who was seated on the couch, and holding onto his bony shoulders for support. A blush rises to her face at the memory of the guitarist’s long fingers slowly skimming her legs as he had gingerly slipped the shoes off of her feet with care. Impure thoughts about the curly-haired boy suddenly flowered in her head and Wyn, in no uncertain terms, and to her credit, aggressively chastised herself for having them about her new friend. Someone she had only known for a handful of hours.

Stop it, stop that! No! Bad Wyn!

At the moment, said friend was still asleep on the boys’ sunken couch. What was immediately obvious was that Brian was much too tall for it, his legs left dangling off at the end. The home-made throw he clutched to him barely grazed his ankles. He looked cute, though uncomfortable. His neck was bent at such an awkward angle that she frowned at the sight. Thinking to spare him from later pain, she gently shook him awake.

“Brian, Brian love, wake up.” She tried not to lean too close to him, wary of terrifying the poor man with her morning breath.

“Hnngh? Wyn, what is it?” Confusion settled over his tired features, his eyes blinking lazily as they tried to get accustomed to the light, the flutter of his eyelids were like the wings of a butterfly. He dragged a hand down his face and scratched his wild mane of curls.

“You need to see this,” She beckoned. A devilish glint was in her eye as she tugged slightly on the collar of his t-shirt. Brian rose to his feet, clutching the knitted throw tightly around him like a cape and together they tiptoed to Roger’s bedroom.

Brian’s eyes widened to the size of saucers when Wyn opened the door.  Crowded together on the double bed were his bandmates fast asleep. The picture was both equal parts adorable and comical. At some time during their kip, Freddie and Roger had drawn nearer each other until they were sleeping literally one on top of the other. Roger’s head was cushioned comfortably on Freddie’s chest, a stream of drool ran from his mouth and down the line of his chin until it created a small pool on the older man's shirt. Freddie meanwhile had an arm hooked securely around the drummer’s waist, one of his legs poking out of the covers as his wide-mouthed snores were muffled by a sizeable lock of Roger’s blonde hair stuck between his lips.

A girlish giggle came from Wyn. “They look so sweet.” She said in wonder and amusement.

“If only they could stay like this.” Brian stifles his laughter with a hand. “I wish I had my camera.”

“Me too.”

“It would be so easy, you know?”

“What would?” She queried.

“Smothering Roger.” He said without a pause.

It was her turn to keep her laughter down as she rolled her eyes, “You don’t mean that. Besides, then you’ll need a bassist and a drummer for Smile.”

“You have a point,” Brian said, closing the door. They leaned on the wall outside the bedroom, continuing their conversation, the floor cool on their bare feet. “As much as Roger’s been a pain, I don’t know, truth is, Roger’s been like a brother to me ever since we started Smile.”

“Brother? I would have guessed old married couple.” Wyn stated dryly. “But you know, being a pain, it’s what siblings do best.”

“I mean I always wanted one, a brother. It was lonely sometimes you know, being an only child and having no brothers or sisters to play with.” He averted her gaze, looking a little embarrassed, picking at the yarn on his improvised cape. He really wasn’t sure where he thought this conversation was going.

If Wyn noticed his hesitation, she did not say anything of it, opting instead to keep their chat going. She sighed, suddenly struck sad at the thought of a smaller version of Brian playing all alone. She squeezed his forearm reassuringly. “I can’t imagine growing up without my brother. Yes, he lorded the eight years he had on me like it was his birthright to annoy me at every turn, but it’s a give and take too,” Wyn wanted to alleviate his embarrassment; though they only really properly began to talk just that last night, she wanted to be a good friend. She liked the sensitive, yet bumbling guitarist. She liked his thoughtful eyes, and the quiet, reserved way in which he spoke. It didn’t even bother her now, the mis-step of their first meeting, not when he showed himself to be someone who was quick to ask for her forgiveness.

“Sam, my older brother, liked to tease me constantly. Then I’d throw a tantrum and force him into my tea parties.” She said with mischief in her smile. “I’d lost count how many times he’d make me bawl my eyes out. Still, it wasn’t all bad, sometimes after school he would bring home a bag of sweets. He’d buy it with the pocket money he’d saved then share it with me. He’d even have Sherbet Lemons, though he never ate them, Sam would get them just for me, because he knew they were my favourite.” It was her turn now to feel embarrassed, she hadn’t meant to talk Brian’s ear off about Sam, but that flash of embarrassment couldn’t compare to the warmth kindling in her chest as she thought about her brother.

“Where is he now?” He asked, looking more relaxed. He had been listening to her story with a peaceful expression, the throw around his shoulder slipping.

“Oh, somewhere in the Atlantic most like, he’s a trainee pilot on a cargo ship.” Brian noticed how little Wyn’s voice became as she spoke about her brother, though there was an affectionate smile on her face. “It’s hard, we don’t get to see him a lot.”

“It sounds exciting.” He said kindly.

“Sam’s happy. Mum and dad are proud.” Wyn offered. There was a beat and then she turned to face him, looking sagely. “By the way, I’m sure Roger knows.” She said, less than masterfully steering the conversation.

“Knows what?” His brows furrowed.

“How well you think of him.” Wyn provided, breaking into a grin. “Though trust me from experience when I say, he’d be over the moon if you actually told him. Once or twice a year will do.”

Bringing his fingers to his chin, Brian considered it with great amusement. “Yeah, maybe. But it will have to be on special occasions. Can’t let it get to his head.”

“God, no.” She concurred. “But you know what else, if you and Roger are as close as you say, then I have no doubt that he’d do anything for you, when it came down to it.” Brian fell silent as she looked at him evenly.

The guitarist looked different in the morning light, gone was the tension in his shoulders, or the seemingly permanent furrow of his brow, instead he felt serene.

“What would you do? For Sam?” Brian asked with some curiosity.

Wyn gave a drawn-out exhale, mulling it over. “Hmmmm…probably kill for him? Yeah, I would kill for him.” She expressed decidedly. “Then he’d dispatch of the body, and we’ll share this deep, dark, unconscionable secret, written in blood, never to be spoken of again.”

“Right.” He replied, as if she were only talking about the weather. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah.”

Brian let out a hearty laugh at that, the sound was warm just like him.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, apropos of nothing. Praying to some deity that her face would not betray her fanciful thoughts.

“Starving.”

“Well then you can escort me to the shops. We’ll actually need ingredients if we’re going to cook us a proper breakfast. We’d be lucky if Fred or Roger had anything other than spoiled milk in the fridge.” She received no reply from Brian who merely looked at her as if he was weighing something in his mind. “Bri?”

The man in question suddenly came towards her from the spot he was leaning against the wall and stood only about a hand’s breadth away. He was looking down at her, god he was so tall, and she could feel his breath on her cheekbone. Wyn didn’t dare move. She seemed to be caught in a spell, and he too appeared in a trance of his own. Slowly, his hand reached up and carefully smoothed down an errant patch of hair that stuck out from her tresses, mussed from sleep.

She felt the material of his blanket brush her neck as he tucked her hair behind her ear. He smiled at his handiwork; his blue gaze was soft. “Lead the way.”

A short trip to Tesco's and forty minutes later, Brian and Wyn return to the apartment, the sound of murmured voices alerting them that Freddie and Roger were now up and about.

“Oh there you are, we'd thought you'd left without saying goodbye!” Fred greeted them when he opened the door. Though he wore a robe, he had not bothered to put trousers on. It was a very ‘Freddie’ look.

“Like a thief in the night.” Added Roger. His body had sunk into the armchair, almost parallel to the ground.

“Don't be silly, Roger.” Freddie said. Roger simply scoffed at his roommate as the dark-haired man continued to speak. “Not like we'd have anything worth stealing, we took the coffee table from the skip!” Freddie reminded him pleasantly.

Brian with an armful of shopping, made his way to the kitchen island to lay it down, “Technically, we all got here in the morning, and if we would have left, it still would have been morning. We wouldn’t have been thieves in the night.”

Roger just groaned in response.

Freddie pointedly looked at his taller comrade. “Go easy on him Brian, he's nursing a bitch of a hangover.”

“Is that why he's wearing sunglasses indoors?” Chirped Wyn.

“Well yes, but he does it all the time regardless.” Freddie divulged before tilting his head to the side. “Is that my top?”

Wyn looked down at the orange jumper she wore, she smiled, feeling sheepish. “Yeah, sorry. Was a little cold this morning.” Objectively speaking, she looked a bit silly, the jumper drowned her figure and the colour of the yarn was so bright she would never have the fear of getting lost in a crowd as it was so immediately recognisable it practically screamed ‘Here I am!’ . There was also the pointed feeling she had that she resembled something of a giant pumpkin. But the jumper was also very warm and so she liked it very much.

“Think no more of it darling, I’m glad you had the sense to rug up before going outside.” Her friend replied with a broad smile. Truth be told, the jumper had been overly large on Freddie too whenever he wore it, but it served him well in the past and kept him warm through many a cold day especially when they couldn’t afford the heating bills.

“I'm impressed you're up and about this morning Fred, you've had just as much as the rest of us.”

“True,” Freddie admitted, rather perkily. “But I guess I'm just excited. Can you believe it, you're looking at the new lead singer for Smile!”

Wyn laughed to herself. “I can Fred, and I do. We were there when it happened.”

“Where have you two been away?” Roger questioned rubbing at his eyes then shortly pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“Wyn thought we might like to have a ‘proper breakfast’. Been to the shops, haven't we?” Brian explained, beginning to take out the groceries.

The girl clapped once, causing Roger to wince. “Yes, now anyone who doesn't help, doesn't eat.” She announced, pulling the blonde up from his seat and joining the others in the kitchen to set them all to work.

Divvying the tasks amongst themselves, they actually made short work of the breakfast preparations. Before long, she was whisking pancake batter contentedly as Roger watched their bacon sizzling away in the pan, still with his sunnies on. Brian was setting the table when he heard Freddie rummaging for something until a needle dropped and a record started to play.

The opening guitar chords was at once very familiar. A rousing cheer from Brian, Roger and Wyn complimented Freddie on his music choice. The domestic scene was immediately energized with the same excited electricity from the night before, and all four of them began to move animatedly.

Surprising them, it was Wyn who beat the three of them to it and first belted out the lyrics. Her voice was loud, and off-key but she made up for it with her unbridled joy. Her head nodded up and down and she brought her whisk up and used it as a mic, not caring for the bit of batter splattering on the island. “Asked a girl what she wanted to be, she said baby, can't you see? I want to be famous, a star on the screen, but you can do something in between.”

“Baby you can drive my car!” Sang Roger, quickly shutting of the burner and bounding to Wyn’s side to share her mic.

“Yes, Roger!” The girl shouted, happy for him to join her game.

“Yes I'm gonna be a star! Baby you can drive my car, and maybe I'll love you.” Roger gave her a wink and his signature flirtatious smirk, then picked up a wooden spoon, and with the spatula in the other hand, he began to play on the countertop, drumming to Ringo’s beat.

Wyn and Roger began to sing in unison, both thinking that they were going to put Lennon and McCartney to shame, “I told a girl that my prospects were good, and she said baby, it's understood. Working for peanuts is all very fine, but I can show you a better time! Baby you can drive my car,”

“Yes I’m gonna be a star!” Exclaimed Freddie from his spot, with gusto. His arms spread wide.

“Sing it, Freddie!” Roger cried.

Fred sauntered his way over to the duo and spun the girl quickly and without warning several times. Wyn laughed as he continued the verse, “Baby you can drive my car,”

“And Baby THEY’LL love you!” Interjected Roger as he and Wyn pointed at Fred.

“Beep beep'm beep beep yeah!” The trio burst out rowdily, shooting their hands up in the air.

From the ratty couch came a bluesy twang of strings. Brian, having taken his baby from its case, played his rendition George Harrison’s lively guitar lick. The three of them were cheering for him, practically giddy as he joined in their fun. Fred stood in front of him with a wide grin, mimicking Brian’s movements on his own air guitar, making his motions as big as possible. The view from his seat was pretty spectacular, and as Brian watched  his friends dancing spiritedly around the kitchen and living area, he silently ponders if it will always be like this; whether it was his destiny to be the observer, playing for the dancers, satisfied with being on the outside and always looking in, or if he too will one day join them. He ponders if one day he will have the courage to dance for a change, to set his instrument aside without worry and have Love twirl in his arms. The guitarist continued to play for them, even when the song changes, he was happy to observe, content for now.

It was a Saturday morning, and though the couch was well worn, the coffee table a salvage job, and all four of them relatively penniless students, they laughed without a care in the world. Here, among friends, the four of them basked in a piece of heaven of their own making, nestled in the heart of London.