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fiction-box · 2 years

Note

Omg thank you so much for doing my last request I absolutely LOVED it!!!!! Your characterization of Felix and Sylvain are so wonderfully on point and I'm still squealing over the part where Felix asks reader to teach him how to heal them dsjfkdjfj (and rolling my eyes over Sylvain's antics lmao. What an incorrigible lad (affectionate))

I hope you don't mind me coming back for more 👀 I've recently started replaying 3h so I'm having so many thoughts about my children <3 this one is an idea that came from a dream I had! Basically reader and Claude have been friends for a while (either childhood friends or they made friends at the beginning of the year). It's the white heron ball and they sneak off bc neither of them are so into all the pomp and circumstance. They're just goofing off in one of the nearby wings and making fun of the church's collection of paintings when Claude realizes in that moment that he's in love with the reader ;)

Extra details about reader if you'd like: they're not all that great at lying or scheming unlike Claude and they're basically his voice of reason/holder of the brain cell (when it comes to reigning him back from some of his more outlandish/dangerous schemes). They've also been secretly in love w Claude for at least a year before the ball hehe

Thank you again in advance and feel free to take the ending wherever you like!!

That is wonderful news! I value characterization as a point; if the character isn't depicted as themselves, the work isn't special. It could be about literally anyone, which is the opposite of what I want. Hopefully, I did the same thing this time!

Requests are open. The story will continue under the cut.

It was the month of the Garreg Mach Ball. In celebration of the festivities, members of the church had lined the cathedral with old paintings correlated to the Seiros faith.

You were never the most devout believer, Claude knew. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he saw you in the cathedral.

He had used this knowledge to his advantage, however, in order to devise a fun way to spend the night. Away from the ball itself, of course; neither of you were one for dancing.

“Can I open my eyes, now?”

“So impatient,” the Alliance noble teased. “Just trust me, okay? We’re almost there.”

“Claude, I don’t need to be blindfolded to know we’re crossing the bridge to the Cathedral right now. I know where I am and where I’m going, so there’s no need to restrict my vision,” you countered.

“Fine then. If you’re so confident, I guess you don’t need me to guide you.”

He took his hands away from yours and turned to walk away. Previously, you had been talked through your route and helped along the way. Of course, it was mainly so you wouldn’t trip on anything or veer off the planned course.

There were only two setbacks: One, moving with you blindfolded was a lot slower, and two, Claude had to walk backwards in order to do it right.

So he knew he only had to wait a moment before you-

“Come on, you know that’s not what I meant. But, I suppose if my hands are free, I can take off this blindfold.”

That wasn’t what he wanted you to say. You always were one to surprise him, though.

He realized you weren’t bluffing, either. It was only when your hands actually began to untie the knot behind your head that Claude reacted.

“Alright, fine. I’ll guide you. But you have to keep your eyes covered, alright?”

The only thing he got in response was a sigh and the sight of your hands returning to the position they were in when he held them earlier. Claude returned to his position as well, sliding your hands into his own and beginning to walk backwards to the cathedral.

“Careful, there’s a rock there. Move to your left- No, your other- Look, just because you can’t see doesn’t mean you suddenly forget which way is left!” he laughed.

“I…I’m doing my bes- ouch!”

Whoops. He had forgotten to direct you around that one.

“Sorry, my bad!”

Glancing around, he pointed his eyes back at the monastery. You weren’t even a quarter of the way across. At this pace, someone was going to see you two crossing the bridge and all of this would be pointless.

So, he let go of your hands and maneuvered around you.

“Seriously? I thought you said you would- woah! What-?”

He scooped you up into his arms and walked at a much more effective pace toward the cathedral. He felt your arms come to rest against his chest.

“Nope,” he grinned, “just some random person that saw us walking on the bridge and decided to carry you to our destination.”

“Claude? That is you, right?” you asked. It was a silly question in his head, but he supposed you were blindfolded. The key sense you had been using for identification was gone, and the noble could feel you tensing up.

“Ha-ha,” you quipped. Though the response meant you knew it was him, Claude noticed that the tension still didn’t leave your body. Interesting.

“Relax,” he tried to reassure you, “I’m not gonna drop you or anything.”

“Just…get us to wherever we’re going so I can take this thing off.”

Eventually, you rested your head against his chest. There was nowhere else to put it, he supposed, but he still hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat.

Maybe that's the reason, Claude thought. After all, he would be on edge too if he failed to identify someone he knew. Without your sight, you were left prone to people you didn’t know, or to others that wanted to hurt you.

A few more hurried paces brought the two of you to the entrance of the cathedral. Claude carried you inside, and once he found what he was after, he placed you back on your feet.

“Ready?”

“I’ve been inside the cathedral before. But I suppose if you really think there’s something-”

Swiftly, he pulled away the cloth tied around your head. He noted that, despite the low-light setting the two of you were in, you still had to squint and blink to let your eyes adjust. Moonlight was brighter than darkness, he supposed.

“I think you’re the one that needs to be patient. The amount of times you’ve caught me off guard tonight by cutting me off is getting out of hand.”

“Pretty sure I’m not needing to wait on anything else, for now. This is what I wanted to show you.”

His eyes followed yours when you took in your surroundings.

“Art,” you commented. You began to travel about the space, taking in as much of it as you could despite the heavy shadows cast by the moon.

Claude began to talk as you explored, “Yep. They pulled it out especially for the ball. Not for auction, so it’s likely just to show off.”

“Ha! To show off art like this?”

He turned to observe which piece had caught your eye.

“Raphael’s little sister could do better than this…scribble!” you scoffed. “What is this even meant to be?”

“Can’t you tell? It’s very clearly a…” he squinted at the label beneath the piece, “...“census count by early Nabateans.” Honestly, you’re so uncultured. How is it that you’re even still allowed around me?”

Laughter spills from your lips at his teasing, and he can’t help but want to hear more.

You moved to the other side of the room, following a path illuminated by the moon. He found himself led to a piece lit up just as brightly. It looked to be a painting of an older man, but all the colors ran together in unappealing locations.

“Alright then, oh great art connoisseur, try this one.”

“And no cheating!” you glared in mock-suspicion, moving your body so as to obstruct his view from the written description.

He looked at the painting a moment before coming to a conclusion, “Easy. That's just Professor Hanneman.”

“Pfft, what? Now you’re just grasping at straws.”

“No, I’m serious! Look-” the Riegan heir moved to stand on one of the pews a few paces away. He held the index finger of one of his hands out, then positioned the fingers on his other hand so that his fingertips were touching his thumb. After lifting his arms above his head and positioning so that the moon shone on them just right, he was satisfied.

“Alright, now turn around and tell me that’s not Hanneman.”

You did so, noticing that the shadows Claude created formed a makeshift mustache and monocle, respectively.

“How did you-? That truly resembles Professor Hanneman!” you gasped.

“See? Another point for the connoisseur!”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you!” you grinned, moving to help him down from the pew.

He took your arm in his, “Good, because now it’s your turn.”

“What? Hey-! S-Slow down!”

Claude led you down along the same wall you were observing at the right-most side of the cathedral. There was a sketch he saw that depicted all of the crests, which was where you both came to a sudden halt.

“This one? Okay, that’s art of all the crests, right?”

“Sure. If you’re boring.”

“Excuse me?”

“For example,” he pointed your eyes toward one part of the work in particular. “You might say this is the crest of Dominic, but if you look at it my way, I think it’s an eye.”

You squinted; you were probably trying to see it his way. Then, your own eyes widened.

“Oh! I see it now!”

“Great, then you can give it a go.”

“Hmm…” your eyes scanned over the page. They lingered on certain crests longer than others. Eventually, though, your eyes had made a full trip around the paper before settling on the Daphnel crest.

“This one. I can pick out a person in the middle holding a crown over their own head. Those two little squiggles at their sides are wings.”

“Woah, that one’s much better than mine. I’ve always thought it was a trident, but I suppose you’d have to disregard the dot in the middle for that to work.”

Your gaze went back to work scanning the crest, and Claude knew it was to try forming the image he described.

“...maybe. But then it would be between what? Waves? Two stones?”

At that last point, your expression lit up.

“Wait, that reminds me! There’s something I’ve always wanted to see.”

The archer trailed you at a light jog as you led the way away from the painting and out of the cathedral to the left balcony. He slowed his pace not much later. There weren’t many places for you to run off to from this enclosed area, after all. Once he saw where you were headed, though, he came to a walk.

You had paused in front of the Goddess Tower.

“This stone structure is always guarded,” you began, “and when it isn’t, it’s always locked when I try to get in.”

“Oh, is it, now? And here I thought you were above trespassing.”

Claude caught up to your side and laughed when you elbowed him. Your curiosity did have a tendency to get in the way of your morals, he knew. It was the reason he was able to pull you out here tonight, and it was the same reason you would chime in for some of his more outlandish ventures ever since you had met.

“Well? Don’t you want to go inside?”

Your mouth formed a pout. How cute; he’d have to try to elicit that reaction from you more often.

“You can try the handle if you’d like. I know it won’t work, but…I can think of more than a few things I’d trade away just to look inside.”

Interesting. Not only did you not seem to know what this place was, but you were also unaware it was unlocked right now.

He could have some fun with this.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Besides,” he winked, “I’ve got a good feeling about tonight.”

Claude turned away from you as he closed the short distance to the door. Casually, he opened it and took a step inside.

“What-? How?”

Before he could respond, you had managed to close the distance and lightly push past him into the tower.

You must have really wanted in if you didn’t have anything else to say. Something told him you didn’t really care about getting your questions answered, either.

Intrigued as he was about the inside of the structure (he had always wondered what the interior looked like, too), Claude was nowhere near as interested as you were. He could deduce as much by how quickly you climbed the stairs. Soon, though, he heard your footsteps come to a halt.

“I don’t get it.”

When the house leader had made it to the top of the staircase, he understood what you meant.

The room was dark and gloomy. Nothing decorated the walls, and the only thing on the floor was the crest of Seiros. The cold stone of the room only made it feel even less welcoming. Thankfully, he found that there was no dust on any of their surroundings. Someone must have cleaned the place before it was unlocked.

He watched as you turned to him, brows furrowed, “Why would anyone care enough to keep a place like this under lock and surveillance?”

“Ah, you don’t know where you are, do you?” he teased.

“What, you mean this place really is special?”

“This is the Goddess Tower.” When he saw that the name didn’t bring any clarity to your expression, he continued, “From what I know, there’s a legend about this place. If a man and a woman come here on this night and pray for the same thing together, the Goddess will answer and grant them their wish.”

“Okay…” you paused. He could practically see the gears turning in your head.

“Don’t put too much faith in it, though. I’m pretty sure it’s just a rumor, anyway.”

“It must be,” you frowned, scanning the room one more time. “If I were the Goddess, I think I’d stay far away from this place. Why not pick somewhere more ethereal?”

He noticed you tense up and turn back to him, “Hang on, how come you knew about this and I didn’t? You heard a rumor, and you’re telling me you just…forgot to mention it to me?”

“My deepest apologies, my lady.” Claude altered his tone to sound mockingly high-brow and gave a sweeping, exaggerated bow. “I swear to you from now on that I will report any and all information I gather back to you. Whether it be true, false, or otherwise.”

“Good,” you giggled, “and you’d do well to remember it!”

As he moved further into the room, House Riegan’s heir noticed something attached to the wall. Something noticeably not stone.

“Hey, check this out.”

At the sound of his voice, you moved closer to what he was looking at.

It was a large wooden door. It expanded almost to the top of the room, its handle a heavy metal ring. The discovery was interesting, but Claude didn’t know where it would lead. There was nothing on the outside of the tower that he noticed resembled a second room.

You brushed your hand along it, “No keyhole. It can’t be locked.”

“Well, then. I think we both know what needs to happen next.”

Together, you both leaned against the doors and pushed. They were heavy and didn’t give easily, but they opened nonetheless.

There was a small ledge serving as a balcony. No railing protected you two from falling to the bottom, he noted, but what truly caught his attention was the view.

Granted, he had seen a great deal of sights from atop his wyvern, but that didn’t make this moment any less beautiful. The stars were glowing with constellations he could recognize. The moon was about a third of the way through its route in the sky and shone brighter than he remembered. He could make out trees and houses by moonlight, and the streetlamps from nearby towns glowed as earthly stars.

Your footsteps brought him out of his trance. The brunet watched as you moved out onto the balcony, bracing your hand against the wall to ground yourself. Once he noticed your widened eyes reflecting the light of the moon, Claude knew you, too, were captivated by the scene in front of you.

He almost wished you would look at him like that.

“Forget the paintings. I could’ve been staring at this all night?”

He flung his hand over his heart, “How cruel! I was under the impression that you and I were having fun tonight!” He sighed dramatically, “But, I suppose you don’t value my company as much as I do yours.”

Even that wasn’t enough to get you to tear your eyes away, it seemed.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just…”

You didn’t finish your thought, probably because you knew you didn’t have to. He turned his head back towards the other sight beyond the doors. Words weren’t enough to describe it, so his mind did its best to preserve the picture.

“I think I can understand why it’s guarded, now,” he admitted. At this, you finally turned to face him. “The church probably wouldn’t want all those young lovers stealing away up here and making wishes too often.”

You turned back to the view, nodding in agreement, “Lover or no, I know I would.”

Claude looked to you, and in that moment he wished he could keep the door unlocked. Only for you. He wanted no one else to know about this place, save for the two of you, and he wanted it to remain unguarded if only so you could make your way up here every night.

And he wished he could join you. Not just so you wouldn’t be alone, and not just because you were his friend, either. Whether it was a rumor or not, Claude wanted to share his wish with you here every year.

“Then I would, too.”

“Huh?” you looked back at him again. He had caught you off guard. Good.

“If you came up here all the time, I would always come with you.”

“That’s good. Part of me would need you to be here with me every time.”

He swore his heart stopped in his chest. To remedy its mistake, it began beating faster than it had before.

“Oh? And why is that?”

Your face broke into a smile, “Because clearly, I don’t know how to open the door.”

Now it was his turn to be caught off guard. By the time he had recovered, though, you had already run past him and down the staircase.

Oh, you knew exactly what you were doing.

The archer sped out of the tower, chasing the sound of your laughter. It echoed throughout the cathedral as you made your way toward the bridge.

In truth, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he caught up to you. But that was his favorite part of being with you: he got to live in the present.

You could both deal with the moment when it came. For now, Claude would enjoy the moment he was living in.

#fe claude #claude von riegan #claude x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fiction #fe3h #fe3h x reader #fe3h claude x reader #fe claude x reader #claude von riegan x reader #fe #fe16 #fluff #fe x reader

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nabateaprodigy · 1 year

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May I request a male!Shez/Claude head canons of fluffy domestic life? ☺️

Domestic Life Headcanons

Game Series: Fire Emblem

Characters: Shez and Claude

Note: Sorry your request took so long! Also, feel like I didn't do to good with these so sorry!

Genre: Fluff

Proofread: Yes

Claude

• Domestic life with Claude for sure is a handful.

• Even though life at the academy kept Claude busy he always made time for you when he could.

• Also due to life at the academy keeping him busy. His time with you is valuable and he holds you close while cuddling. Reminding you how much you mean to him.

• One thing Claude loved to do with you was flirt he always loved seeing your cute face go red at what he had said.

• Is Amazing when it comes to styling hair! I mean have you seen his? If you ask he'll gladly style your hair for you.

• He's such a gentleman you can totally expect him to kiss you on the back of your hand.

• Good luck trying to get out of bed in the morning. He'll hold you in his arms until he has to let you go for whatever reason.

Shez

I love this boy so much omg

• He would definitely be the first to cuddle up to you after a long day.

• You of course are more than happy to cuddle with him as you've missed him while he's been away.

• He's definitely the cook out of the two of you for sure. You'd wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his shoulder.

• The first time he said "I love you Y/N" was after a battle he thought he'd die in.

• You were so so happy to hear him say that that you told him. No matter what you'll always be together.

• You always tell him off after a battle ending up with so many injuries. He knows you only do it cus you care about him and can't stand to see him hurt.

• He always stays up late to review battle strategies. But you always end up falling asleep and when he notices. He'll kiss you on your forehead <3

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allovertheplace-writing · 2 years

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Hmm, could i request Claude with reader who is just.. really weird? Like makes random noises or shows up at their door at 4am to talk about random stuff. I do this stuff a lot lol

Platonic or romantic, either way is fine!

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Fire Emblem Three Houses

Character(s): Claude

Genre: Fluff

Type: Headcanon

Description: Delightfully strange, but he adores it anyways

Warning(s): Platonic (Can Be Read Romantically)

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He's never quite met someone like you

Someone who hums random tunes whilst doing something; from funky to genuinely beautiful

Someone who purses their lips and pushes air out into a little puff during a lecture (he had to keep himself from laughing after seeing teach's face)

Claude finds everything you do endearing, amusing could be another word, and honestly encourages your eccentric ways

Something about you just makes life feel full

Fidgeting with your papers and books or tapping your fingers and boot, those little things have become noises he enjoys hearing

Now, the impromptu visits well past the night and into the morning are an entirely different story (it's not actually)

The first time, it was just to ask him if he wanted to sit together during breakfast

He responded in a laugh that began as a scoff - he couldn't quite believe it if he was being honest

But he said yes, he enjoys your company after all

The second time, there was no reason and it ended with you both going on a walk together until classes began

Plenty of laughs and genuine talk were exchanged

It had been one of the moments that solidified your friendship, among other things at least

The third time was to bring him a snack since he wouldn't make it to breakfast that day

It wasn't the first time you had done this, although far later in the day, yet it felt like the first time all over again

You had a way of knowing that you were visiting at 4 a.m., didn't you?

(Turns out you don't, it's just what your body does at this point)

Claude doesn't mind either way, he enjoys you and your adorable shenanigans

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cryo-regalia · 2 years

Text

change of plans

all claude needed was that journal and the golden deer leader’s determined to get it. however, claude’s just a little too soft when it comes to his teach in distress ft. claude von riegan

— THEMES: gender neutral!reader, slight angst, comfort fluff, spoilers (claude’s real name + a cause for sorrow / white clouds), poison threats, invasion of privacy, slight implication of ng+, watch out the reader has a knife, claude is a little mean at the beginning.

When he said that he would sneak into their room to take their father’s journal, the tones of his voice implied that he was cracking a joke, being as playful and mischievous as people knew him for. An attempt to cheer up his favorite professor, his Teach; anyone could assume that. Anyone with a decent amount of faith in humanity and in him, anyways. The Goddess knew that the somber mood needed to be broken somehow, though Claude understood why it was there in the first place and truly meant it when he said his condolences. His smile was as easy as it always was whenever he was surrounded by the inhabitants of Garreg Mach—pulled upwards at the corners, but never high enough to poke at the undersides of his eyes. He couldn’t let them know too much and get too close, now could he? It was simple enough that it could get past the more innocent and naive individuals, but for those who were far sharper and observant? Well, he’d let the people of Fódlan come to their own conclusions. Teach always had this way of making him act so bizarrely, more like Khalid than he would usually allow himself to be here, perhaps that was why his smile, for just a few moments, became genuine when he tried to comfort them following their return from Remire. The same could be said for his seriousness when he posed the question in the first place.

The problem was that he wasn’t joking and Claude was going to get Jeralt’s diary, regardless of what kind of tactics he had to use. After Seteth so rudely confiscated the book he was reading about the Immaculate One and Rhea was as tight-lipped as usual, he was growing thin on answers the Church was so adamant about keeping a secret. But he knew he was so close to getting what he sought and it was all thanks to Teach was either just as much in the dark as him or pretty damn good at keeping a secret. He couldn’t tell just yet, but he knew that book would give him what he wanted. Maybe what I want is Teach, a part of him whispered in his ear but he frequently tried to pay thoughts like that no mind, including now. He knew Garreg Mach’s new professor better than he’d admit and figured an ultimately harmless poison wouldn’t be needed after some consideration. That didn’t mean he didn’t have several bottles of it stashed away under the floorboards of his room—some that would give a week’s worth of a nasty rash to something much stronger that could leave someone curled over a toilet for a solid month. It sure would be a shame if they were to develop a miraculous stomachache or an illness that conveniently faded in less than a week. Kidding, kidding! Depending on how he was feeling, of course. Strong potions like that could go bad if he let them sit for so long like that, too.

Was it the nicest thing he had done? Not in the slightest. Asking to take the only remnant of their deceased father was shallow, he would admit that, but he promised he would give it back when he was finished If it was for Teach, he’d follow through with his promises. The problem was they really did say “no” despite his heartfelt promise to keep it in good condition and hand it back when he was done. He was a man of his word...sometimes, but now was definitely one of those times. Claude’s initial plan was to just pickpocket it when they weren’t looking, to slip it into his uniform, to visit their room when they were busy and take it then, but that scheme of his was a failure before he even got a chance to attempt it. Teach took it everywhere with them. Sometimes it would be tucked into their arm, others set someplace close where their eyes would be on it at all times and they could grab it if it got too far. They didn’t read it very much so much as they just looked at it, as if its mere presence was enough for them to keep it around rather than the contents. He supposed they went through it already, but the wasted opportunities itched at him so bad that it was driving him insane. He couldn’t exactly blame them, though. If it was the last thing he had of his mother, he’d have it with him at all times. It was only natural that they would be so protective of it, but unfortunately so was he.

At twenty-three hundred hours, Claude knew it was his time to act. Two knights would pass by the first floor of the dormitories in search for any questionable figures or a student who dared break the curfew set in place, each going opposite ways but met at the staircase beside the dining hall. They’d pass one another and go back and forth, sometimes pausing for just a moment to peer around when something caught their eye but rarely letting anything sway their duty. One would go as far as to the front of the greenhouse and the other to the training hall, and the time between then was his only opportunity to strike before he’d have to wait in hiding once more. Wyvern Riders and Pegasus Knights would patrol overhead, soaring high above the monastery grounds for anyone or anything that went overlooked by those stranded upon the land. Those concerned him the most, their unpredictability especially, but he was mostly safe within the darkness cast by the midnight sky and the wooden aisle above him that lead to more dorm rooms. The wooden crates and barrels and shrubbery also created enough cover for him, but he would have to hope that his luck wouldn’t run out this moon when he stepped out from behind it. He had about two minutes two undo the lock as quietly as possible and get inside without alerting Teach. Easier said than done, he silently chimed, but if he could go uncaught in Castle Riegan than he was sure that he could get away just as clean in Garreg Mach.

Clover eyes peered around the crate he took refuge behind and carefully watched the Knight of Seiros pass by. Claude didn’t know his name and didn’t really care to change that, but he did know that he was appointed a Knight for a reason. The thought of the repercussions nearly gave him a headache and his charming smile wouldn’t have as much of an affect as it usually did. At least Teach went along with him and his brilliant schemes. The second that the man approached the training hall, Claude was on his feet and shuffled around in his breast pocket for only a moment to produce a small, silver object that he carefully slipped into the lock. It was a lot less refined than he would have preferred, but he had far less time to copy Seteth’s skeleton key than he would have hoped and he didn’t care how it looked so long as it worked. He wiggled it left and right and twisted it each and every way as footsteps that echoed like tormenting thunder in his ears, taunting him, reminding him that there was no room for error. He was about to scowl and back off until it smoothly fell into place. The Golden Deer beamed in relief and and twisted the lock, followed by the doorknob, and then slipped inside. He slowly shut the door behind him, one hand on the knob and the other against the wood, but the tiny click sounded far too loud.

Claude stilled for a second, two, and then three, before releasing a breath when there was no movement from the occupant and turned to give what was inside his attention now that he no longer had to give the Knights of Seiros any more mind. For now, anyways. It was difficult to make out much within Teach’s room, to no fault of their own. His eyes had become adjusted to the dark of the night and was only help he received, other than the strings of moonlight that slipped through the cracks of their closed windows, but that didn’t mean a torch or candle wouldn’t be helpful right about now. He couldn’t risk it, however, and made do with what he got. He first searched through their desk and each drawer that he could budge open without being too obnoxiously loud, turning over books, boxes of tea, and whatever else made up their tiny collection of belongings, but found nothing close to what he was looking for. He patted through the clothing hung over their chair and found nothing but dark stains on the ends of the sleeves. He had a solid feeling he knew where that was from, but wasn’t trying to think about it for any longer than he had to. Then he made his way over to the bed with long yet slow steps, cringing when the floorboards beneath him creaked but became relieved when it hadn’t nudged Teach out of whatever dream they were absorbed in.

He dropped down to his knees beside their bed and checked beneath it, but found nothing. Literally nothing. He knew they were a mercenary and all and therefore didn’t carry much on them, but their lack of belongings was somehow sad. He might just have to offhandedly mention something to Hilda about that. Ah, he could see the shopping spree now. He raised his head up to the sheets around Teach’s sleeping figure and glanced around. He’d be blind to not notice the gleaming blade of their dagger beneath their pillow. A habit, he surmised and couldn’t blame them. He didn’t have any plans on breaking that habit himself. Like with the desk, he found nothing at first and slowly reached towards their blankets and shifted it downwards. If they were attached to the diary during the day, who was to say that they wouldn’t be during the night? As mischievous as he was, Claude didn’t just pride himself on his schemes, but his observational skills. Many other features, but that was beside the point. Their lack of movement in everything but their expression was concerning, and if it wasn’t for the way their face scrunched then he would have assumed that they were dead. He would have convinced himself of that if he hadn’t rest his finger beneath their nose and felt their breath. Their eyes squeezed together and their cheek turned to rest against their pillow, followed by a groan.

Immediately, his mind raced with a variety of plans he could go with if they abruptly woke up. He could slip underneath their bed and hope that he had enough room to pull his legs close to him so he’d be able to fit without his feet sticking out. Or their desk, he could squeeze himself under there. It’d be a tight fit, but he’d most likely be able to stay hidden without any light there to expose him. If he was feeling particularly reckless, he could escape through their window and hope that he could undo the latch as quick as he could nock an arrow. Fortunately for him, they had yet to wake up and had not a single clue of his presence—wow, that was incredibly creepy. Still, he wasn’t out of the clear just yet. Perhaps he was hallucinating, but he could have sworn their hair moved on its own, as if someone was brushing away the strands that slipped in front of their face to comfort them. Instead of him. Claude nearly sighed in exasperation of the thought as he proceeded to slowly shift the blankets around. Now really wasn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts, no matter how much he liked the thought of Teach being by his side, leaning against him, their conversations. The Golden Deer paused when something that definitely wasn’t cloth brushed against the pads of his fingers.

It was some kind of leather, and slightly smaller than his hand, small enough that he could easily wrap his hand around it. It wasn’t very thick, but it had a surprising weight to it that he wasn’t expecting. For someone like the Blade Breaker, a tiny belonging like this was most likely a pebble in his palm. From within the bunched up blankets that made up something similar to a makeshift nest, he pulled it out from its hiding place and brushed his fingers along the side. A buckle with a small emblem attached to it (A Faerghusian emblem, he noted) kept it shut together, but it was loose rather than clicked into place. Claude almost felt bad for taking it now, imagining them staying up to read it and falling asleep to the writing of their departed father. He hoped they’d forgive them when they woke up, but he planned for this to be something he took to the grave. The House Leader grinned triumphantly to himself as he rose to his feet with his Treasure in hand, slowly moving to the door. There would be no use in trying to read it now, especially when Jeralt’s writing was as dark as the room around him, but that didn’t stop him from flipping through the pages as if he could. Claude wanted to be excited—and he was, don’t get him wrong—but that was almost too easy and he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He still had to get back to his room without being noticed, and strengthen the lie forming on his tongue in case of emergency.

“No...Don’t...”

Claude still immediately as if he had been cursed and turned to stone, the thunderous thumping of his shoes fading into the silence that held him in a suffocating grip. Whimpers and strangely desperate groans sliced through it like their trusty blade and mixed into the shuffling of cloth that had him itching to run before he could be caught where he stood. Slowly, he twisted his head over his shoulder and to Teach’s bed where green eyes cautiously watched, glancing to any and all escape routes and hiding spots between watching them. More pleas and whimpers fell from their lips and he loosened up only slightly when he realized they weren’t talking to him, let alone awake. A nightmare, he easily presumed. He could only imagine what it was about if it left Teach of all people so distressed and his ever incessant curiosity craved that knowledge, but he supposed he’d never know. The door was right there and while returning to the second floor dormitories would be a task, he could escape all the while. His feet got to work, moving one after the other but less intent on stealth behind the hurried movement and he acted without so much as thinking or considering his options. The mattress dipped beneath him and his hand sat on their shoulder to nudge them awake with enough force that it could stir them without him receiving a dagger to the eye in return.

“Hey, it’s just a bad dream,” he started, softly. “You’re okay, Teach.”

With a sharp and panicked gasp, their eyes flew open and it took him a few seconds to realize that they were suddenly sitting upwards and given even less time to reel back before their heads could collide. Any later and he would have earned a solid bruise on his temple, as proven by the brief gust of cool wind that fluttered between them and brushed his skin like silk cloth. Hazy [eye color] met green and in the same moment Claude found himself gripping onto their wrist as a short blade pressed against his throat. It was inefficient in comparison to the havoc the Sword of the Creator could do with a single flick of the wrist, but he knew a sharpened blade when he felt it and a threat just as well. He tried to push their arm back, but was met with a strength he shouldn’t have been surprised by and a pinch to his skin that would no doubt draw blood if it hadn’t already. The Golden Deer leaned back until he was drawing to the edge of the mattress, careful not to fall but ready to leap off and run should he need to. The reaction wasn’t surprising, but that didn’t mean it was any less deadly if he took even the slightest step out of line. He released them in favor of raising his hands up and spreading his fingers out, wiggling them for emphasis, but the lack of reaction said enough for him to know that they most likely didn’t notice.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! It’s just me!”

They were both still for a few seconds before Teach hesitated and lowered their dagger, cautiously. “Claude...?” They slurred, sleep no doubt still tied to their consciousness.

Claude just barely caught onto the mangled jumble of letters that made a somewhat coherent and mumbled apology. They slipped their surprisingly nice dagger back under their pillow like it was its sheath, the hilt sticking out far enough to grab in case there was an actual need to use it but covered enough that the blade wouldn’t nick them if they laid back down. They dragged their hand over their face with a long, suffering sigh, most likely letting any and all adrenaline wear off. With the weapon out of their hand, the Golden Deer eased up slightly and shifted to his original position on their bed. It was so bizarre to see Teach so shaken that he didn’t know what to do with himself, let alone what to say. They were the Deer’s shining beacon of victory, an enigma that seemed to be several steps ahead of their enemies with a brilliant intellect and possessed a smile that left him dazzled. Sometimes at the worst times, but he wouldn’t admit that to just anyone. They led mercenaries, battalions, and his own classmates into battles that seemed impossible but returned to the monastery in one piece and triumphant, wielding a variety of weapons with such ease that even veteran Knights of Seiros could be put to shame. But now there was nothing but a strange churning in his gut that he was surprised to realize was concern. He wasn’t here to make meaning connections with people he saw as pawns on a chessboard, and yet here he was attempt to resist the urge to wrap his arms around the person in front of him.

The Ashen Demon, the undefeated mercenary that was whispered in fear across Fodlan, was still human, after all.

“What’re you doing in here?”

The journal weighed heavy in his hand and he nudged it behind him. “Oh, you know, just on a midnight stroll,” Claude hummed impishly. “And I heard some noises from in here so I decided to check in on you. Sorry, Teach, but sometimes my curiosity is just too much for a mortal man to resist.”

Before they could try to pick holes into his story, he continued: “Bad dream, huh?” He only got an unimpressed huff in response. “Care to talk about it? I’m pretty good at keeping a secret.”

Teach was quiet and didn’t make a sound other than their soft breathing, sniffles that he thought were figments of his imagination, and the shuffling of cloth. Claude was ready to take that answer (or lack thereof) as their refusal and prepared a quick and playful farewell. Just as he was about to rise from where he sat and make his grand escape, he stopped when they started to speak.

“The chapel. It was about the chapel.” Claude didn’t say anything. Teach gripped onto their blankets while tears lined their downcast eyes. I keep seeing the same memory with my father...Monica. That man. It keeps replaying over and over and all I can do is watch. No matter how many times I try again, I’m always too late, and when I try to run to him, I only get farther. I did everything I could and it wasn’t enough. I failed him. What if they take one of you, too, and I can’t do anything to stop it? Or they actually manage to defeat us. Defeat me.”

One by one, beads of water slipped down their cheeks and collected at their jawline. Each left wet lines down their skin in their wake or dampened the disheveled strands of hair in front of their face. They looked just as startled as he did by the sight of the waterworks, if not more, but didn’t seem to know what to do about it other than wipe it away with their fingers. Their valiant efforts were in vain, however, because the water never stopped as it was a fountain of several years worth of unshed tears and he wondered how correct he was about that. Claude didn’t know what possessed him to do it—the goddess, he silently joked—but he reached over and took their hand in his. He gently pried their fingers from their tight clutch on their blanket one digit at a time and then locked them together in a firm hold. He knew he could definitely be a lot more rough with them, but kept his grip loose enough that they could pull away if they really wanted. Did he want them to, though? No, not really. Awful timing, man. He looked them in the eye and turned his head to try and keep eye contact with them, even in the darkness of their room. If one of the deer, let alone one of the more gossipy members of the other Houses, caught wind of this, he’d never live it down, but in the moment he didn’t really care.

His other hand, meanwhile, wiped away the stray tears on each cheek, one by one with a soft touch like he was handling a baby wyvern. “You’re the strongest person I know, and you’ve always saved our skin in the nick of time. Some old bastard isn’t gonna defeat my Teach anytime soon. Besides, you’re safe. No one will harm you with me around.”

“But what if...”

“No buts. I’m being serious, I won’t let anything happen to you. I have your back. All of us do.” He gave their hand a squeeze that was slowly returned. “That dream of yours sounds...horrifying. I’m sure it can’t be easy seeing that, but you’ll be okay. And listen, I didn’t know your old man that well, but I do know that man was nothing but proud of you. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be in your shoes, but I’m in your corner.”

Something resembling a sad laugh fell from their lips after a beat of silence, but he loved the sound of it all the same. “I don’t even know why I told you all that, but thanks.”

“You must trust me that much then,” he quipped with a wink. It was supposed to be a tease, but it came out as something he couldn’t put his finger on. Sincerity? Teach was making him soft.

A warm smile mixed with tears pulled at their eyes and for a moment, maybe two or three, he froze where he sat and just stared with his breath lodged in his throat. Claude could feel his lips part but nothing came out and it was probably for the best; he didn’t want to risk saying something utterly stupid. Their eyes twinkled with someone he had never seen from them before and highlighted by the already present glossiness, the bottom lids curved upwards into crescents because of their upturned lips. Their smile was small, but so powerful and warm like a secure hug. They were genuine and trusting and slammed into his conscience, as if reminding him for his true reason for being there. How deserving was of them and their trust when he was so cautious of them, literally conspiring against them just to get a material item out of impatience? Now he felt like an idiot, an undeserving idiot, but if he could be a bit more selfish then he’d love to see their smile more. Their smile softened slightly and just as he opened his mouth to say something—what he was going to say, he had no idea, but a jumble of words formed at the back of his throat—they died on his tongue when they leaned forward. A small weight rested on his shoulders and he quickly realized how close the two of them were, freezing in place out of habit than any actual intent.

“Yeah,” they whispered, breath ghosting the skin of his neck that caused tiny hairs to raise, “I guess I do. And...Claude?”

"What’s up?”

“Can you...Can you stay? Just for a bit longer?”

"Of course,” he said and cleared his throat, “Anything for you.”

“Thanks again.”

It took a bit of time, but their finally body relaxed against his and they made themselves comfortable against him as if he was a human pillow. They were drifting off easy enough, so he supposed he might as well. He would have chuckled at the thought, but he didn’t want to disturb them from what he hoped would be a peaceful slumber. His heart hammered against his chest and thundered in his ears, and he hoped that they couldn’t catch him in such a moment of weakness. His hands lifted from theirs and loosely hung around their body until he locked his fingers together in Fódlan’s worst embrace. Sitting like this was for so long by no means comfortable and was starting to kill his back. Claude had half the mind to lay down and bring them with him, but how many boundaries would that cross? Not many of his, but what about them? Of course Teach was making him all frazzled. He should have been frustrated, disgruntled, but all he could do was released a tiny feigned miserable sigh from his nose. This would have to do for now, he decided as he shifted so his cheek rested against their head. His eyes fluttered shut, his original mission long forgotten and disregarded, and instead let himself ease up against them until sleep started to pluck at his consciousness.

“Claude?”

“Hm?”

“I’d like my journal back.”

#☆ — eve’s completed requests!#claude von riegan x reader #fe3h claude x reader #fire emblem three houses x reader #fe3h x reader #claude von riegan #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #claude fire emblem #gn reader #x reader

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philliamwrites · 2 years

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TDWC 08: Secrets of the Forgotten

Pairing: House Leaders x gn! Reader

Warnings: canon divergence, slow burn

Summary: “Please, don’t mind me at all,” Claude beams, his grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s. Dimitri’s scowl deepens more. His eyes turn into the blue of an icy-cold glacier dominating the coastline of Faerghus in the North. “I do, actually. I wish to speak with the Herald in private.” “Then get in line for an appointment. Our Herald is very popular with folks, as you know.” And with that, he closes the door in Dimitri’s face.

Notes: [01] | 07 | 09

Words: 9.7k

A/N: huge thanks to @raindrops-on-the-roof for joining me on this ride and being my beta-reader!!

i lived, bitch. it's been so long but after a year, i'm back with the next chapter and it was ton of fun working on it becase we're finally introduced to a new figure and get some original content. also claude's a menace and that's what we all want. enjoy!

08: Secrets of the Forgotten

But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch’s high estate; (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed, Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.

— Edgar Allan Poe, “The Haunted Palace”

The underground canals running through Abyss, like veins moving blood through the body, are dirty and smell of human waste and decay, but Balthus plays a hand much dirtier and everyone huddling around the small, crooked table in Wilting Rose Inn groans in unison. Except for Byleth. She shows her own cards, a Royal Flush, and earns a round of earnest applause. You try catching her eye to find out whether she has turned time back in her favour but her ever-steady gaze doesn’t betray anything.

“Okay, lesson learnt.” Balthus gets up and stretches, putting his taut muscles on full display. “I never imagined there could be someone worse than Yuri out there. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Is Yuri really that bad?” you ask, throwing your Flush on the table.

Balthus gives you a seldom serious look. “You have no idea.”

It’s certainly not that hard to imagine. He sometimes has this intense, piercing gaze in his eyes when he talks about knights patrolling too close to Abyss’ entrances for his liking, even though his whole body is a picture of relaxed serenity. He’s an amazing actor, you can give him that.

“Another round?” Byleth asks, already shuffling the cards expertly with her slender fingers. Apparently, part of being a mercenary also entails having an amazing poker face and constantly winning at card games.

“Oh, no, no, I think I’m on guard duty,” Marco, the Rogue, says and flees.

“I forgot I promised to check if there’s enough candle wax to … remake candles,” Ethan, the Marksman, says and bolts.

“These are the men supposed to protect us,” Barbara, the Smith, sighs. “Yet they fear their pride won’t stand after losing a game to a woman.” She gives Byleth a scrutinising look that is also approving at the same time and follows her comrades. The rest of the crowd scatters like butterflies fluttering away after being disturbed from their peaceful slumber.

“That Barbara.” Balthus shakes his head. “Can’t say I know anyone more capable of making grown men feel like little boys.”

“I like her,” you admit. “She doesn’t call me the Archbishop’s Lapdog.” Like most Abyssians.

“Just give everyone some time.” Balthus’ grin is part amusement, part pity as he gives your shoulder two hard claps to bid you good night. “They’ll see in no time you’re no church stuck-up.”

You aren’t so sure about that. You have been down here for a couple of days only, engaging in fights, defending the place against the mercenaries and bandits that wander into Abyss—on accident or on order still remains a question. It was obvious that fighting a few battles for them would not change their mind so quickly—a few good deeds did not undo the year-long abuse and persecution most of the Abyss dwellers had to suffer. You doubt you alone can heal those wounds, yet still there is a fierce fire burning inside you, a light blazing to banish all the shadows clinging to their pained hearts.

Not for the church’s sake, you’ve realised quickly, but for the Herald’s, for the first one loved Fódlan’s people; loves Fódlan’s people still. Every night you lie in your dark quarters, a single, tiny room with nothing but slatted frames and a thin blanket for a bed, nothing feels surer and more honest than this feeling Seiros’ Champion allows you to glimpse as if what it means to be the Herald is that simple.

And simple it is, for if you cannot remember your identity, your wishes and dreams and ambitions, you can take his on until you have figured it out for yourself; surround yourself with them just like you donned his ceremonial robes at the very beginning.

If Byleth questions your new-found vigour for battle, for tactics and schemes on the battlefield, she hasn’t voiced it yet. Or, maybe she is simply too occupied trying to understand the cards Fate has dealt her.

The Wilting Rose Inn clears out as the candles burn down until only a few loyal patrons remain in their respective, quiet corners. It becomes easier to talk to Byleth, since you cannot be sure who might be listening in, ready to forward information to Yuri and give him whatever reason to put your head on a stake. Not that he would actually do something like that. At least, you hope he would not do something like that.

You also realise how much you missed just being in her presence, and they become the only short moments during the day when you allow yourself to relax and droop your shoulders whenever exhaustion weighs you down.

Today, Byleth has made it her personal mission to teach you wood-carving. It goes as expected: you’ve cut yourself three times and have nothing to show for but a misshapen try at a cat that bears more resemblance to a stone you might find in one of Abyss’ gutters.

“I am,” you say as the sharp edge nicks your thumb once more, “a danger to myself and everyone around me.”

“Good thing I’m the only one here then.” Byleth gently takes the knife from you as if you are a toddler and only to be trusted with tools that are highly unlikely to chop your limbs off. Like a spoon. You’ll remind her of that next time she pushes a sword into your hands and demands you to participate in another sparring session. “I’m not as practised in magic and Tome wielding as Linhardt or Lysithea, but I am sure you still need all your fingers to conjure spells.”

“I could try it with my toes.” You wiggle your bloodied fingers at her like the boogie man. “Become the first Warlock that casts Dark magic with their feet.”

The smile that tugs at the corners of Byleth’s mouth is a greater victory than having chased off the bandits yesterday. It is followed by a frown though, one so light, the softest shift in her brows that you wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for the long hours during tea-time you spent studying the planes and features of her face like an artist might while studying their muse.

She leans back in her creaking chair and pockets her knife inside the hidden sheath strapped around her upper thigh. “We are making slow progress uncovering who is after Yuri and his friends,” Byleth says. “I know we’ve been through this already, but any guesses?”

“You’d think with how often we got rid of them by now, they would realise trying to drive the underground residents away is a waste of time. Whoever pays them must hold a serious grudge, why else would they spend so much money on sending mercs in here?”

A shadow passes Byleth’s eyes. “Unless these kids know more and are hiding the true reason someone would be after them.”

You understand her concern. You two have agreed to help, but your official duties and first responsibilities lie in taking care of the academy’s students and seeing that no harm comes to them. Which is no easy task as they so readily throw themselves into defending the Abyssians.

“I … I don’t think that is the case.”

Byleth simply lifts an eyebrow, urging you to go on.

“I can’t explain it very well. I just don’t think they have anything bad in mind. I don’t think there is a reason to doubt them.”

It doesn’t make sense, and yet you know Byleth is the last one to argue against a point like that. This quiet, strange connection that exists between you two is undeniable—just like the sun’s travel over the skies and that it lies to rest in the West and rises again in the East, day by day. Everything is connected, you just have to find out who is spinning the thread of your Fates together.

“I really thought they were trouble at first,” Byleth says and gestures to the barman to bring another round. “Especially Yuri. He is cunning and sharp, a dangerous combination for a leader.”

“I’d like to think he is hiding a warm, pleasant core beneath all that scheming and calculating,” you say, taking the drink the moment the bartender leaves it at your table. “Hiding it somewhere very, very deep.”

A corner of Byleth’s mouth twitches. She’s holding her own glass, lazily swirling the amber liquid in circles. “He is young, but I would not put it past him to hold ulterior motives. Promise me to be careful around him.”

“He and his lot helped me before they knew I was the Herald,” you concede, thinking back to Constance’s reaction after you woke up. “They simply saw someone in need of help, that’s all.” Since then, it has not occurred to you even once that they might be criminals hiding away under the church’s nose. You still think of Alfons and Briana’s small faces, their round button-noses and large eyes as they look up at Yuri in adoration. They deserve so much more than hiding away in some dark, rotting cellars.

You swallow your shot in one go, and instantly begin to cough and pound your chest as it goes down burning. Byleth knocks her glass back without any problem and swallows the burning liquid as if it were water. You still blink against the tears stinging in your eyes.

“You sound like you trust them already,” Byleth says and waves for another round. You try to share a mildly concerned look with the bartender, but he ignores you and slides two more shot glasses in front of your noses.

“Trust is maybe a little much,” you mumble, thinking of Yuri’s sharp smile, the way Hapi struggles and fails not to roll her eyes whenever you offer some insight with your Crest. “But I don’t think they’re bad. Or evil.”

Byleth nods, either because she has come to the same conclusion or because she puts trust in your decision not to doubt them. She downs another shot, looks at you expectantly. You scramble for another topic, anything that will save your throat from burning up a second time with this goddess-forsaken liquor.

Inevitably, your eyes fall on the sword strapped to her waist, only to call it a sword puts any blacksmith who has mastered the art of steel and iron to shame, and you have no desire to meet the one responsible for this craft, the one that bends bone and magic to their will. Byleth follows your gaze. Her hand rests on the hilt, hesitantly at first. You don’t think you have ever seen her hesitate before.

“The Sword of the Creator,” you mumble. “What does that even mean?” Has the Progenitor God truly wielded such a thing? What kind of goddess was she to come up with such a hideous weapon, to forge the Heroes’ Relics in such a portrayal and present them as gifts to humanity? It is like receiving an apple and only finding the core rotten and inhabited with worms after you have taken a bite. You wonder if this repulsive fascination is you or Seiros’ Champion, yet he remains silent.

Byleth stares into her glass as if the answers for all her questions lie hidden at the bottom and by drinking fast enough, she can unravel them. You are pretty sure that is how people become drunkards.

“Holding the sword … wielding it.” Byleth searches your gaze. “It felt raw. Unlike anything I have ever felt, and yet...” Her nimble fingers dance across the hilt once more, halt at the round socket where it seems that something spherical is missing. When she locks eyes with you, something tells you this is something she has not even told her students. Maybe she can’t tell them. Maybe, just like you feel with her, she feels that honesty comes easier when only you are around. You take a sip from your glass, welcoming for once the biting heat that forces you to shut your eyes and turn your head away.

Why can’t you tell her about the first Herald? Why do you want to keep his existence within you a secret? You listen for his voice, his opinion on the matter, but Seiros’ Champion is still silent, and you hope it doesn’t stay that way in matters of life or death. What is the use of an ancient dwelling inside your heart when he does not share in his unending knowledge and experience?

“And yet, it felt right,” Byleth finishes, cutting off your thoughts, and somehow you can easily imagine what she had felt—for the very same could be said about meeting the Herald. Right, natural. Like returning home. “I wonder … if there is any truth to the people’s claims that only a descendant of the King of Liberation would be able to use its power the way I did.”

You’ve read the historic texts on Nemesis, the King of Liberation. How the goddess gifted him the sword to use its power to save Fódlan from wicked gods over a thousand years ago. He liberated the people from their thralldom and thus was named King and Beloved of the people until the sword’s heavenly power, too terrifying and mighty for any mortal to bear, corrupted him and he turned to the darkness, waging war across the land and thus forcing Seiros to destroy him. It strengthens your belief that whatever benevolence the Goddess gifts her patrons, the price to pay in the end seems too high.

“I hope,” Byleth continues, “Professor Hanneman will have answers to that when we return. I still do not quite understand why Rhea has allowed me to keep it.”

“Is there any explanation as to why it was her sword inside the tomb and not the remains of Saint Seiros?” you ask. It would also beg the question where they are instead. But Byleth shakes her head.

“There wasn’t much time to go into details,” she says. Her fingers linger just a moment longer on the sword, before she withdraws them—a little reluctantly. “When you disappeared, we moved heaven and hell to find you. It was by mere luck Claude spotted one of the Abyssians disappear inside a passageway under the Abbey.”

“I hate how no one told us,” you say. “You would think a whole bunch of people living under the monastery is worth mentioning at some point after appointing us to our positions.”

“I’d like to think there was a reason for keeping silent about it,” Byleth says though even she doesn’t sound sure, and it strikes you as odd. Not Byleth doubting Rhea, but her not being sure about something. “A reason I can’t wait to hear once we’re back on the surface.” She reaches across the table, presenting her open palm to your hand holding your glass. You surrender and give it to her, watching a little too intently when her throat bobs as she swallows another round.

“Yuri expects another attack on the Abyss soon,” Byleth continues and rises to her feet. She stretches like a cat in the sun. “We should head to bed and rest up. I wouldn’t want a repeat of the last battle.”

“Oh, come on, it was not that bad.”

“You almost fell asleep from exhaustion when those two Grapplers advanced,” Byleth says, using her Professor voice on you.

You can’t help but grin. “And just like I predicted, you came and saved me.” Byleth’s mouth twitches into a flat line, but you can see that she is pleased. “Pulling an all-nighter to study the maps and outline of Abyss and the secrets it has to offer was a good idea. There are some interesting chambers holding traps and pitfalls. Whoever built this place really wanted to keep people away.”

“Makes you think what could be hiding deeper down in Abyss,” Byleth thinks aloud. “And maybe one of the next bandits will be kind enough to tell us.”

You nod. It was Claude’s idea to take someone captive and get answers from them, and hopefully shed some light on what it is exactly that their employer wants from Abyss.

Byleth escorts you to your chamber, your quiet voices bouncing off the damp walls in the dark corridor that stretch away into unprepossessing shadows. Unlike up in the monastery, the walls here are bare of tapestries and sometimes even of torches which makes traversing the tunnels difficult. You’ve let Linhardt show you simple fire spells to have a source of light on you.

“But it would be far easier if you learnt Light Magic,” he had commented as you two bent over scrolls and books, fighting a yawn. “Also much safer and highly unlikely to set yourself on fire.”

You had closed the tome he’d slid across the table to you, smiling stiffly. ��Duly noted.”

The flame dancing across your palm now flickers but doesn’t waver, illuminating the corridor and painting Byleth’s face with a sheen of soft, amber light, giving her pale complexion a little colour. She is watching you conjuring the spell; how your fingers close around the flame as if it were a small beating heart, easily snuffed out whenever a breeze swipes through the corridors.

“I see your Magic Prowess is growing,” Byleth notes. “As is your ability to hold your own ground on the battlefield. You’ve grown used to fighting.”

That isn’t a compliment you had ever thought someone would tell you, but coming from Byleth, you know it is true. You have noticed it yourself—how with every battle it gets easier to see the enemy’s movements and abilities, their weapons and gear. Calling upon the power of the Herald’s Crest, usually a taxing and draining endeavour that left you resting up in your chambers, has become much easier since you have met Seiros’ Champion. Whenever he makes his presence known with quiet whispers of where to lead your students next, soft pushes as if he is placing his small child’s hand upon your shoulder to guide you to victory, his support is like wind in your sails, propelling you forward and lifting your courage.

“You are not as scared as you were in the beginning,” she continues. “You have never much wavered in your tactics, but you seem even more sure now.”

All that praise from her makes your ears scald with heat. Though praise it seems, you know that Byleth only speaks truth. “I have finally started to trust in my abilities. If people see me doubt, how can they follow where I lead them in battle?” you say, even though that is not entirely the truth, of course. Which is why you hastily add, “And I trust you. As long as you are by my side, we are invincible.”

“So it is,” Byleth says, turning her head so that her moss-green eyes dig into you like hooks. “And yet I wonder. This courage, is it just because you wish to defend Abyss? To prove yourself before Yuri and his companions. Or is there something else? Something that you want to share with me?”

You both pause in front of the door leading to your quarters, the silence smothering you like a heavy blanket of freshly fallen snow that puts everything into a deep slumber. No matter how much you dig through that snow though, you can’t find the resolve to tell her about Seiros’ Champion. Where would you even begin to explain?

It might seem that I have turned mad but believe me when I tell you the soul of the first Herald resides within me and sometimes, he whispers to me what I should do, and he likes to gossip from time to time as well. He seems fond of Edelgard in particular, and notices whenever she looks at you, but you choose not to see it.

You stare at her, not entirely sure what you are waiting for. Maybe that Byleth learns how to read your thoughts so you wouldn’t have to speak these outlandish things aloud. Instead, you say, “No. There is nothing.”

Byleth considers you for a moment. You make it a point not to shy away from her scrutinising gaze, as one would do with nothing to hide, you assume. In the end, she relents first, but not because she grants you an easy victory. You’re certain she knows when it is wise to return to a battle at a later time. “I see,” she says mildly. “Rest up, then. I will see you tomorrow.”

You watch her disappear down the hallway, the blade at her side peeking out from under her black robes like a sly wink; like a promise waiting for the right time to jump out of the shadows and strike you in the back. It occurs to you then, for the first time, that maybe the timely meeting with Seiros’ Champion and Byleth activating the power of the Sword of the Creator might be connected.

The Chalice of Beginnings. The way it all ties back to the Rite of Rising, the very same festivities used as a distraction to try and steal Seiros’ remains—unless the Western Church somehow knew what they would find inside the tomb would be something entirely different—and ultimately the reason you are all down here … calling it simply coincidence is like cooing at a fox shortly before it snaps with sharp fangs at you. It is hard to tell what play you are conducting on the stage unknown forces have set you upon. All you can hope for is that it doesn’t end up being a tragedy.

With the scrolls, papers and books Aelfric was kind enough to lend you spread over the make-shift workplace you’ve put together using crates, you’re spending the evening reading up on the Rite of Passing and the Four Apostles. Even though some of the texts are so badly damaged you can barely make out their content, it all matches with what Aelfric has already told you: the ritual is believed to have the power to resurrect a life that was lost using the chalice which only the Four Apostles had access to. After the ritual failed, they bound the chalice so that it would never fall into mortal hands. Capable of something that grand, it is no wonder whoever is after it throws ambush after ambush at the Abyssians in hopes to find crumbs leading to where this treasure of immeasurable worth might be.

But if that chalice really exists, where is it? To search for the Chasm of Bound below Abyss feels like trying to find a needle in a haystack. There is no telling how much time you have left before either Rhea demands everyone’s presence back or you are unable to protect the Abyssians any longer from the mob of greedy thugs.

“Knock knock,” a voice says from the entrance to your room.

You startle, too lost in thought to notice anyone approaching. Claude is leaning against the doorframe, having come up behind you as silent as a cat. He has changed out of his gear, wearing loose dark trousers tied at the waist, and a simple white shirt that stands in contrast against his tanned skin. The first buttons of his collar are open, showing the elegant curves of his collarbones. His dark hair is damp, curling against his temples and the nape of his neck.

“Did something happen?” you ask, moving in alarm to rise from your seat, though surely, he wouldn’t lean so leisurely and relaxed against the door if there was another attack. He confirms as much with a lazy wave of his hand, unhitching himself from the frame. “Nope, nothing to worry about. I just thought I’d drop by and say hi. Do you know how difficult it is to pin you down? You’ve gotten really busy since we’ve come down here.”

“You know, no rest for the wicked.” You try to restore order on your desk by organising the books and scrolls in one corner. You’ve completely lost track of time, and as it turns out, magical fire is incapable of burning candles to their wick, so there is really no telling how long you’ve been holed up in your room, studying the ancient texts. “Do you need something?”

“Just thought we’d have a nice, pleasant chat.” The smile flirting with Claude’s lips is dangerous for it tries to appear innocent, yet the way his green eyes glint with mischief, like the edge of a knife flashing as it is drawn from a hidden sheath, promises nothing good. “Been a while since we’ve had one of those.”

You can’t remember if you have ever had one with Claude. Maybe all those moons ago after you had awoken with your new power, which now feels like a lifetime ago. You lean back in your chair, allowing your eyes a break after all those hours of reading. Maybe this distraction might help.

“Okay, I’m all yours.” You stand up, waving at the chair to offer Claude a place to sit, and absolutely missing the way he shoots you an amused glance at your choice of words. Instead of taking up your offer though, he steps backward. Suspicion crawls up your back, feathery light like a spider making its way to new prey caught in its web.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Claude says and with a swift kick, shuts the door behind him. You stare at him, tongue-tied. Can students just do that with faculty members? Yuri’s voice creeps up from a dark corner in your memory: “You’d do well to keep in mind that the monastery rules don’t apply down here, Herald.”

“I just have a few questions, is all,” he continues, still smiling but anything pleasant in his voice has made room for an urgency that you can’t remember ever having heard coming from him. Claude crosses the room in quick strides, and leans his hips sideways against the table. His eyes flick over the remaining texts on your table, his head slightly cocking to one side to get a better angle to read them. When you clear your throat, he startles, and looks back up at you.

“Right, sorry.” He knows that you know that he, in fact, is not sorry. “The library here has some pretty interesting things, I gotta say. Books and scrolls you’d never find in the monastery’s library. There are some things that are hard to believe, though. There’s this funny book hidden inside a false cover that talks about a Distance Viewer and Flammable Black Water and a Metal-Hold Printing Machine. Imagine the technological advancement one of the nations would achieve if they could actually build and utilise devices like that.”

“Is that why you’re here?” you ask. “To talk about the Abyss’ book collection?”

“What? No. No, I—,” he begins, tapping his slender fingers impatiently against the wood. You don’t think you have ever seen this restlessness about him. Claude has always appeared as steady as his bow-hand, sure that wherever he aims the shot will land true. “I was just wondering if something happened after your fall down here. Something you can’t tell us.”

You feel as if ice water has been dumped down the back of your neck, shocking you to full alertness. Claude must see that he has caught you off guard; a look of hesitancy flashes across your face before you can speak. “And what would that something be, exactly?”

He lowers his voice. “I thought you might tell me.”

You stare at him, throat tight, the cold sweat sensation of anxiety spreading slowly through your limbs. “Nothing happened. Whatever gave you the idea that I’m hiding something from you guys?”

There is a moment of silence as you two trade a look that feels like a dare. There is something forbidding about the intensity of Claude’s gaze, the tension of his stillness. His fingers stop their rhythmic tap tap against the table, and now clutch onto its edge, his knuckles turning white. “I’ve always figured your reservation towards using your Crest came from the novelty of it. The foreignness of a power that isn’t yours. But in our recent battles, there’s nothing of that anymore.

“I thought maybe it’s because you met the Ashen Wolves and the people from Abyss, and you feel sympathy towards them and that’s giving you a little more oomph to try making use of the Crest. But that’s not it, is it? You’ve changed from despising the powers to fully embracing them. Wielding them as if you’ve never done anything else in your life.”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips, and you don’t miss Claude’s eyes quickly jumping down to your mouth for a second. Or maybe it was just your imagination, the flickering shadow of the small candle’s light across his face. “Maybe I’ve just grown used to it,” you reply quietly.

“Herald, you grow used to balding or riding a new steed.” He looks at you sharply, his head tilted to the side. Something in his voice changes in that moment. “You don’t get used to something that changes your life from being a nobody to suddenly standing in the centre of the world. Not really.” His voice has a veneer of calm, but beneath you could hear the vibration of some very different emotion.

What changed for you, then? you want to ask. It doesn’t feel like the answer would be so simple as the appointment to the heir of the Leicester Alliance.

You shift, folding your arms in front of you for lack of a response. As much as you like to discount Claude’s tendency for plots and schemes, there is something disconcertingly earnest about him right now. The similarity is striking you all of a sudden, the shadow passing his eyes one you have already seen in Sylvain’s when he had tried talking about his Crest and its troubles.

“All I’m saying is,” Claude continues, and he takes a step towards you. Instinctively, you take one back. He takes another one. This goes on until it ends with your back against the wall. “All I’m saying is that maybe Teach finding her new shiny weapon triggered something in you,” he says now, propping himself up against the wall, his hand splayed beside your head. “Maybe a memory? Something like that?”

You hold his gaze, not shying away from his scrutinising eyes or the close proximity. So, you are not the only one thinking that the Sword of the Creator and the Crest of the Herald are connected in a way the other Crests are not. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Claude, of all people, is the first to have noticed it. You had simply failed—or underestimated him, rather—to anticipate that he would also act on that theory and corner you like a mouse to get answers. Literally.

“Nothing like that happened, Claude,” you say now, feeling like you’re walking on a lightrope, and a single misplaced word could send you plunging. And then, he is there, his presence like the light brush of soft flower petals against the back of your mind. Do not tell him yet. Do not tell anyone yet, I ask of you. I do not wish the world to know I still exist. Silly Champion of Seiros. You’ve already understood his feelings perfectly without him having to tell you.

“Somehow, I was given this power. I tried fighting it for so long, but there’s no way I can run from this. I realised that, so now I’m just trying to make the best out of it.” It is only half the truth, but that is something Claude doesn’t need to know. It is also something he didn’t want to hearyou realise as you watch his expression turn into something close to disappointment.

“I’m sure Lady Rhea would enjoy hearing this,” Claude says, his voice deep and thin like a knife’s edge—and just as sharp.

“You’re not very subtle, Claude.” You try to move past him, but he doesn’t budge. “What’s your problem?”

“Problem? There is no problem.” The mask of bored indifference slips back on his face, turning his eyes distant, and cold even. An easy smile stretches over his features, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I just enjoy teasing you.”

“And maybe I’ll enjoy sticking a dagger in your side.”

Claude laughs. “That’s not very Heraldy of you.”

You try to see if that laugh means you’re good, but his eyes are closed doors. Your face must be a question mark, because he says, “Herald,” and touches your cheek gently, grazing your skin with the rough pads of his fingers. You inhale sharply, gaze snapping up to his. Claude’s eyes widen, realising what he’s doing only then, and his warm, calloused fingers freeze against your cheek.

Just as he opens his mouth, knocks come from your front door. He lifts an eyebrow at you, asking if you are expecting visitors at this time. You just shrug. You certainly didn’t expect him, and yet here he is.

Claude pushes himself off the wall, allowing you to cross the room and open the door a crack wide. Through the narrow opening you see Dimitri standing in the hallway. When he spies you glancing at him, he gives you a shy smile that quickly turns into a scowl when Claude comes up behind you. He presses his chest against your back and leans an arm against the door frame above your head. “Oh, Dimitri?” Claude drawls.

Dimitri pales as he sees, and certainly misunderstands the sudden intimate proximity Claude is displaying. He presses his mouth into a thin line. “Pardon the intrusion, Herald. I thought maybe this would be a good moment to review the last battle reports. But I see…,” and here his eyes dart over to Claude and sweep over him as if he were a particularly unpleasant surprise he found under his bed, “… you are preoccupied.”

“Please, don’t mind me at all,” Claude beams, his grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s.

Dimitri’s scowl deepens more. His eyes turn into the blue of an icy-cold glacier dominating the coastline of Faerghus in the North. “I do, actually. I wish to speak with the Herald in private.”

“Then get in line for an appointment. Our Herald is very popular with folks, as you know.” And with that, he closes the door in Dimitri’s face.

You’re pretty sure Dimitri on the other side is wearing the same expression of dumbfounded surprise that is on your face. “What is going on with you, Claude?” you ask and turn to him, forgetting how close he is. When you almost bump into his chest, you take a hurried step to the side. “The way you are acting is unbecoming of someone with your station.”

Claude shrugs. “Don’t worry, Dimitri won’t take it to heart. It’s just that things have started to happen that don’t make sense, and I am all about making sense of the senseless.” He looks over at you, smiling. “Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

You’re spared the eye roll for an answer when distant bell ringing heralds another ambush on Abyss. Claude heaves a long, weary sigh. “No rest for the wicked, huh…” He turns to open the door, but except a little rattle, nothing happens, no matter how hard he shakes at the handle.

“Come on,” you say, unable to contain the urgency in your voice. “Open the door.”

“Well.” He turns around. “It appears that it is stuck.”

Your eyes go wide. “Then unstuck it.”

Claude throws himself against the door. It doesn’t budge. He curses. “My shoulder will never be the same. I expect you to nurse me back to health when this is over.”

“This is your fault,” you press out between gritted teeth. “Just break the door down, we can’t waste more time.”

“That’s what I’m—,” Claude throws himself once more against the hard wood, “—trying.”

There’s a loud crack and the door opens to the other side; not by swinging but by being lifted out of its hinges. Behind it, Dimitri is peeking around the frame, eyebrows raised to his hairline. “I thought you two might be in need of some assistance.”

“Yeah, I was … I was about to do the same,” Claude says.

You push him aside, hurrying down the corridor and waving them after you. “Lucky for us, Dimitri was faster.”

“No, really!” Claude calls after you. “I was just about to do the same!”

The fight lasted throughout the whole night. When you return to your chamber, drenched in grime and blood, you can’t even be bothered with your missing door and fall face first into your bed, remembering too late that it’s as hard as the ground.

After an hour or two of resting, you quickly clean yourself up and meet the others for a short breakfast of dry rye bread and mushy oats, letting them believe the red bump on your forehead is from the battle. There is a little spare time before the meeting to discuss your next course of action, so you head back to your room for some more shut-eye.

“Herald.”

A raspy whisper stops you, drawing your attention to a chamber you walked past on your way to the classroom many times. Not once has it been occupied since your arrival in Abyss. But now it is decorated with heavy velvet curtains and tapestries. Violet lights hang from lanterns on the ceiling, illuminating the heavy furniture and curtains in soft, misty light. You remember Constance mentioning something about a Wayseer’s room, usually empty, but now inhabited by an elderly woman sitting in an armchair too big for her behind a round, mahogany table. You can only see a pair of narrow, dark eyes staring up at you. Her nose and mouth are hidden behind a white veil.

“Please, do come in, Herald,” the woman croons and gestures to an empty, cushioned chair standing before the table. Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “There is so much we have to discuss.”

Something in your chest gives a sudden, sharp tug. Seiros’ Champion? No, this feels different. Somehow … It feels wrong. You shouldn’t be here. You hover within the doorframe, looking down the corridor left and right. It is like everyone except you two has left Abyss.

Curiosity taking you in its reins, you step into the room, your eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. “Who are you?” you ask, cautiously making your way across the room towards the chair.

The woman chuckles.

“They call me Wayseer, Herald. For I see the paths people have walked and how far they still have to march until they arrive at their destination.”

You pause, hand resting on the chair’s backrest. The wood feels impossibly cold against your skin. “You can see … the future?”

The woman chuckles again. It is the sound of dry leaves scattered by the cold autumn wind. “You mean do I have the same ability as you? Making Time bow to me? Oh no. Nothing of the like. I simply glimpse where I am allowed. No one else has what you wield.”

“Of course.” You sit, quickly swallowing your disappointment.

“Oh, but why frown like that, Herald.” The Wayseer places her hands to both sides of a translucent orb placed before her on a dark socket. You could have sworn it was not there a second ago. They were small hands with lithe fingers like spider legs. On each finger she wore heavy rings. “So many would kill for what you seem not to appreciate. Power. Glory. The chance to sit upon the throne of the world.”

“I would appreciate people not telling me how to feel about it,” you snap, irritation lashing out like a cornered beast. Taken aback, you lean away from her, your back pressed right against the cold chair. It feels as if you are pressing yourself against a solid block of ice. Where did this come from? This fury?

The Wayseer’s lip curls. If she’s taken offence at your irritation, she doesn’t show. She shifts in her seat like a child impatient to finally be allowed to play with a new toy.

“What can you tell me about my paths then?” you ask. There is little you hope for, really. If she tells you she sees you living in a nice house by the sea in twenty years or so, that is all you can ask for. A peaceful life. You would simply be happy hearing you will survive the next few years. And, if she can see where exactly you have come from, then maybe luck really is on your side this time and you can finally find some answers.

“Very well.” The Wayseer’s chuckle is drier than crisp autumn leaves. She holds out her wiry hand and says, “Close your eyes, Herald, and give me your hand.”

You aren’t too keen on skinship with a stranger, but just to humour both of you, you comply, and placing your hand into hers, palm up, you close your eyes. You feel her gnarly fingers dance over your wrist, brushing over your open palm as light as a spider’s touch. You fight a shudder.

The pain is so sudden and jarring like a lightning bolt. Before you can pull your hand back, the Wayseer grabs your wrist hard like a vice—surprisingly strong for someone this old. Her head darts forward and she sucks your bleeding finger into her greedy mouth as if it were water and she is dying of thirst.

“What are you doing?” you demand, fighting to free your hand. Finally, the Wayseer releases your finger with a wet pop from her lips, and for a second you believe to see razor sharp teeth before the veil obscures her mouth again.

The Wayseer smacks her lips and scratches her nails against the smooth surface of her orb. Maybe this is all a joke. If Claude and Hilda jump out from under the table any second and laugh about the silly face you’re making, you wouldn’t even be angry. But no one emerges, and you stay alone with this mad woman. She’s moving her hands in strange motions over the orb, and in response colourful clouds swirl inside the ball. First red, then blue, and golden until, like a storm rolling in, all of a sudden it becomes black.

The Wayseer recoils.

She tries to suck in air as if she is drowning, her eyes bulging like a dead fish’s. She spits on the ground and a shudder wrecks through her, one that has her falling from her armchair onto the ground, her body convulsing. She begins to cough, a horrible, rattling sound, as if there is something stuck deep inside her that she can’t get out. Clawing at her throat, digging her nails deep enough into the skin to tear, she kicks and wails as if set in invisible flames. As if something is burning her up from the inside. Like poison.

You jump to your feet, rounding the table to help her but she screeches and scrambles away from you, eyes ripped wide open. “Who … no, what are you?” she croaks.

“I … I don’t know.” Your voice is so quiet you don’t know if she can even hear you. “I hoped you could tell me.”

The Wayseer turns to the side and spits some more. It is so dark that it almost looks black, whatever that is—blood or maybe something far gruesome?

Did I do that? you think, horrified as you watch her climb to her feet, still shaking and shuddering. You are about to apologise, reaching forward to steady her by her elbow, but the Wayseer shakes your effort away impatiently as if you are nothing but an annoying fly.

“Oh, my dear, you seem forsaken to me,” she says, and you can’t hold back your surprise how easily she bears no mind or grudge to whatever has happened. Whatever you might have caused. “Just like—” She stops. Her eyes are fixed on her orb that is now swirling in undistinguishable shapes. She leans over it, her gaze pining you like a dead animal on a corkboard. “It seems to me that the answers you seek lie in the Shadow Library, Herald,” the Wayseer says now, her voice suddenly smooth like clear water. Or the satin concealing a sharp knife. But what makes your stomach churn is the way she purred “Herald.” Almost mockingly, and you realise the spiking fear in your stomach doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to the first Herald.

“Why can’t you tell me?” you ask.

“Because it is not my place to tell you.” The Wayseer casts down her eyes now. Her whole behaviour doesn’t make sense. Making light of the Herald’s name first, now acting obedient. You listen inside for the voice of Seiros’ Champion and find one emotion burning like a beacon in the dark. Get out. She is the enemy.

You jump to your feet, almost knocking the table over. “I have to go.”

“Of course.” The Wayseer bows her head slightly, and from the way her eyes become slits, you can see she is smiling underneath the veil. “But don’t forget, the Shadow Library holds answers. Do not let anyone stop you from chasing the truth.”

You give an awkward nod, not trusting your voice.

When you quickly leave the room and throw a last glance back, you think you see the unfamiliar face of a man staring back at you from inside the Wayseer’s orbs, his eyes eerily white.

The Shadow Library is a dark, damp room tucked away at the end of a narrow hall that is seldom frequented by the Abyssians. When you take a look inside, relief fills you that only Linhardt is currently occupying a seat close to a wall, an uneven stack of books his only companion.

The Wayseer didn’t say specifically where to look, but you would start with records on the first Herald and see what you could turn up about him.

But first, you have to deal with Linhardt who’s napping away in his seat, cheek squished against the edge of an open book.

“Linhardt.” You shake him. “Linhardt!”

He jerks up. “I’m awake,” he lies, blinking sleepily against the dim candle’s light. He looks up at you, squints and seems to recognise who caught him. “Oh, it’s just you, Herald. Come to a late study session as well? Or early morning? It’s certainly hard to tell down here with no sun.”

“How long have you been awake?”

Linhardt thinks about that for a moment, his eyes losing focus, then refocusing again. “Forty-two hours, maybe?”

“Bed. Now.”

He leans back, considering the idea. “We can’t say for how long we’ll have access to this hidden knowledge. Did you know it was only with the founding of the Adrestian Empire that we have the calendar as we know it today. They used to call our moons ‘months,’ if you can believe something this extraordinary! You can’t find data like that up in the monastery’s library.”

“Linhardt,” you repeat. “Go to bed. Or do you want me to get Byleth?”

Linhardt doesn’t need to consider this. He raises to his feet, sways a little from exhaustion, and tugs his uniform in order. “Good night, Herald.”

He turns and moves to the exit, but you call him back. “Linhardt!”

He stops. You point at the table. His mouth twitches into an unpleasant line, the only sight of his disapproval, but he returns, drops the books and scrolls he’s hidden in the folds of his robes, and leaves for good.

Quiet settles, and you give it a minute or two to calm your beating heart. “I know you don’t like this,” you say out loud, hoping Seiros’ Champion might finally stop being so anxious inside you. “I don’t trust that Wayseer either, but if I find answers here, I’ll take anything I can get.” He doesn’t know what it is like not knowing anything. Are you even a real person if you don’t have a past; if you don’t have anything or anyone remembering you? “I have a right to know who I am.”

Unfathomable sadness spills at those words—his mixing with yours and you can’t say who started it. But he quickly recedes, leaving you alone. Somehow you feel even worse now. Lonely. You wonder where he left to where you can’t follow him.

You make your way along the walls of books, allowing your fingers to gently journey over the spines. There are so many stories in here that so few people get to read. This library’s collection appears larger than the monastery’s as well, solely for the fact that they don’t have enough space for all the knowledge cramped into every nook and cranny. Wherever there is even some small additional space, someone has made it their calling to fill that blank spot with a book—even when it doesn’t fit.

Without any idea to start, you continue down the aisle and pick whatever sounds interesting. Letters from heirs to noble houses, an antiquated note on what meat to use for a special dish prepared for the new emperor at ceremonies, a novel set in the Adrestian Empire with a date of removal and Seteth’s signature. So this is where the books end up that Seteth doesn’t allow up in the monastery.

You’d hoped to find more about the Herald down here maybe, but there are no records, no memoirs, not even discourse. Why did no one care to keep your records alive? you wonder, but wherever the boy has retreated to, he can’t hear you, or perhaps, chooses not to hear you.

Nothing sticks out as something truly worthy of Seteth’s scorn at first glance. That is until you find the burnt remnants of a report stating some details on a handful of noble houses, another scroll that talks about a False God and the children of men fleeing to the depths of the earth. One paper strikes you as particularly important, but the page is so old and worn that most of the text is illegible. The Truth of Heroes’ Relics. You wonder what it might be, what truth lies within the relics and their Crests that the writer of this paper finished with the words “I daresay the Goddess would not wish for me to learn more than I already have.”

You finally hit a breakthrough when a stack of papers falls to your feet, bundled together with a crumbling piece of wool. When you begin to read, you realise these are the fragments of a forgotten memoir of someone who had fought in the War of Heroes. With clammy hands, you begin to read.

__/15 - Ailell Forest It has been several moons since King Nemesis was defeated, and the tides of war have turned from bad to worse. I have received news that my friend Daphnel has fallen as well. Those zealots are after our heads, and those of our leaders. All that is left for us is to disappear into the muddy waters Seiros has created. My long life may soon come to an end …

__/2 - Itha Plains I somehow escaped with my life, but I fear the end is near. They tell stories of the Shadowlord’s execution and with him gone, what point is there for us, those who have survived? Those who remain and carry a broken legacy. People are worried, for their Herald has locked himself in his rooms, unwilling to speak to his followers or Saint Seiros. They do not understand how he could be so distraught over the Shadowlord’s death. They do not know the truth. Once more, Seiros has chosen to keep secrets, to play with her charges’ obedience and fear. But I know. The world will know the truth at some point and then Seiros will reap the rotten harvest of what she has sown. I misspoke and was driven away to the Fhirid River. They hunt us like animals. I considered leaving Crusher behind, hiding my trails. Maybe it is too late for that. I wish I could see my wife and son again … just one last time.

You read the content of the worn pages once more, trying to make a sense of it. Daphnel was one of the Ten Heroes, as was the author of this letter—if you remember correctly, the Heroes’ Relic Crusher was wielded by Dominic. It must be from after the corruption if King Nemesis was defeated, but from the way those words are framed, the author doesn’t strike you as someone mad for more power or revenge. It is strange but you feel pity for this person.

There is another name that stands out, of course, one that you have not heard in all your moons since joining the church.

The Shadowlord.

The name is like a brush of icy cold fingers against your mind, as gently as a snake grazing your ankle before it springs forward and sinks its venomous fangs deep into your flesh. A shiver passes your body, only it is settled so deep within your bones that you know this is not your fear rekindled.

But as you focus on chasing after Seiros’ Champion before he can disappear back into the murky depths of your mind, a cough comes from the library’s entrance. Your gaze snaps up to see Yuri standing in the doorway. The look of annoyance on his face is something that deserves its own painting to commemorate it.

“I hope you plan on putting that back exactly where you found it,” he says, strolling over as if he doesn’t have any care in the world but the tense set of his shoulders betrays him. “Wouldn’t want any of that to find its way into the hands of someone from the surface.”

“Don’t you get bored?” you ask, folding the papers back together and pushing them back between two books.

Yuri stops, quickly eyeing what you’ve put away to undoubtedly have a look himself once you leave. “Bored of what?”

“Pretending I’m still the villain and here to sell out your people?”

To your surprise, a look of unabashed amusement lights up his face for a moment. It settles back to a somewhat neutral expression, but the glee still remains in the soft dip of the dimple on his left cheek.

“Better safe than sorry,” Yuri replies, shrugging casually. His nimble fingers dance across book spines. “Though yes, even I must admit that your deeds for the people of Abyss are not what I have expected.” His fingers pause. Yuri leans forward, lilac eyes gleaming. His face is predatory, but his voice is gentle. “You are not what I have expected.”

His words feel like the warm flick of a candle’s light. You didn’t realise until now how much you cared for Yuri’s approval. To think he’s warming up to you slowly might still be an exaggeration, but maybe he’ll grant you the generosity of a looser tongue now that he doesn’t see you as the enemy.

Your eyes skim back to where you’ve returned the letters, fingers itching to take them with you until you know every word by heart. “I’ve … I’ve read about this person. Shadowlord. Any idea who that was?”

Yuri raises a slim eyebrow. “The Shadowlord?” He looks a little puzzled, his eyes roaming over the books. “It’s just a story. A boogie man living in the shadows that steals you away if you don’t finish eating all your vegetables. Grandparents used to tell their grandchildren that story so they wouldn’t be naughty.”

“So just the bad guy in a fairy tale?”

“Is what I’ve heard.” He gives a single shrug. “Who knows. All fairy tales have a spark of truth to them though. Maybe he truly existed.”

You’re sure that is what people thought about the Herald as well until the story became reality. You just hope this particular story remains one.

“Also, I would appreciate it if you don’t go around the monastery telling everyone what you’re reading down here,” Yuri says, waving towards the library’s entrance to signal your late-night reading has come to an end.

You hesitate only a moment before you follow him down the corridor, leaving the books and tomes behind. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Great.” He winks at you. “Saves me the trouble of sneaking into your room and slitting your throat.”

“Charming as always.”

Maybe one day you’ll be capable of holding a pleasant conversation with him without any death threats. Though it already feels as if a little of Yuri’s animosity has disappeared in favour of giving you a chance to prove yourself.

He drops you off at the door to your quarters, already flaunting down the corridor to whatever nightly escapade fancies his tastes without so much as a wave at you over his shoulder.

“That Wayseer,” you say before he can disappear into the shadows. “What’s her deal?”

Yuri stops. He turns slowly, his eyes flitting from the dark corners of the flickering lights on the walls to you. There’s a question in his eyes you don’t know the answer to. “What Wayseer?” he asks, and you can feel your blood run cold. “I know everyone going in and out of Abyss, and I haven’t heard about someone like that hanging around.”

“But that room next to the scrap chamber…”

“Hasn’t been occupied in years.” When Yuri answers this time, he turns around and looks at you a little sceptical but also impatient as if he doesn’t have time for whatever pipe dreams you’ve come up with. “I guess someone played a joke on you. Don’t let it get to you.”

You nod, but your mind still lingers in that room, with that person. It would be easy to brush it off as a joke. But this sense of wrongness spikes again, a kernel of goddess-awful flavour that the more you think about it has you gagging. You had felt an awareness. No. More than awareness, more sentient than that. It was recognition.

A/N: someone over at ao3 made fanart of the first herald and i'm absolutely in love!! check it out here!

if you're interested to join the taglist, please let me know! i want to resume uploads every month, so the next chapter should be up on September 15th. thanks for reading and take care!

#phill.tdwc #fe3h x reader #fe3h dimitri x reader #fe3h claude x reader #fe3h edelgard x reader #dimitri x reader #claude x reader #edelgard x reader #fe3h house leaders x reader #fe3h x oc #fe3h x gn!reader

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gl00my-b · 2 years

Text

Waterfall

Claude Von Riegan x male reader

Summary; just useless toothrotting fluff based from my favorite songs, Rule #13 - Waterfall and Rule #14 Fiddler's Heart

______________________________________________________________

It had been a few years since the war had ended, Byleth was the new archbishop of the church, while your husband, Claude, was the new King of Almyra. He was busy a lot with his new kingly duties which put a strain on the time you both saw each other. You didn't mind, the people of Almyra would need time to adjust to a new king and his husband. But back to the current story, you had awoken to your room in the current residence in the Garrech Moch Monastery, the dim lighting in the room giving you a chance to see what time it was close to. It seemed like the sun had just started to rise. You smiled, getting up from your bed and changing from your sleepwear. You got dressed in your black button up shirt, pants, shoulder cape, and boots.

Once done in your room, you left to see Byleth in Rheas old room. You arrived at the door to hear three voices talking. Seteth, you could tell by his stern and tired tone as he spoke, Byleth with her colder tone but soft aura, and a very familiar voice. Your husband. "I was wondering if I could excuse him from work, yes...I know he's important to helping you Teach, but I need my husband sometime in his life, plus he's going to be a roy....." the conversation was cut short by Seteth, who immediately gave a reluctant question to Byleth, who I could hear trying to diffuse a situation before footsteps were heard approaching the door. The door opened, revealing Byleth in all of her glory, her archbishop outfit looking as stunning as ever. "Why don't we let (name) decide? He clearly was listening and I think he should choose if he wishes to see his husband." Byleth said as she guided you into the room. Claude gave you a small smile and a wave and you smiled back at him. You gave a nod to seteth, who immediately nodded back and left the room.

"I'd like to see my husband for a while if that's okay with you lady Byleth." You said and gave her a smile. Byleth nodded and ushered you and your husband out of her room before slamming her doors. You and Claude let out a laugh before he picked you up and spun you. "My love, I've missed you more than you know- I'm so happy to have you in my arms once again." Claude said as he held you to his chest. "I have something special planned but I need you to trust me." Claude gave a smile and held up a blindfold. "You know, this is like when you asked me to marry you but not with a blindfold." You said with a deadpan expression. Claude laughed for a minute before slipping behind you and carefully bringing the blindfold over your eyes to tie it. Once he was done, he scooped you into his arms and started his journey to wherever he wanted to take you.

It took a bit of time before Claude set you down, he took your hand and guided you further on a path. "We're close, I promise love, just....don't slip-" Claude said before you heard him let out a yelp as he slipped. You were about to pull the blindfold off before a hand caught yours. "Ah ah ah, not so fast, your not allowed to take that off. Kings orders." You groaned, he had a smile on his face, you could tell. "Bastard." "Correction, your bastard my love." Claude replied back with a smirk. A few more minutes of Claude leading you and he finally let go of your hand, slipping behind you once again, this time to undo the blindfold. Once you opened your eyes, you let out a small gasp. A very familiar spot raced back through your memories as you stared over the beautiful body of water that was flowing beautifully from the giant waterfall. One you had been behind before.

"So....how do you like it?" Claude gave you a smile. You turned, before running to hug him, effectively jumping at him. "I never thought I'd be back here. I love it, and I love you." You said. "Here, take my hand." Claude held his hand out to you and you took it. The two of you walked for a bit before coming upon a mossy rock path in the water. The two of you made it across, trying not to slip as you went. Once you made it to the final rock, you disappeared behind the waterfall with a smile, leaving your smiling husband behind. He crossed through after you, shaking his head to dry his now wet hair. You giggled as he came over to you and pulled you in to kiss him. You melted in his arms with a smile as he kissed you. The two of you broke away as Claude started to walk into the cave behind the waterfall. "Do you remember this place and what happened when we were first here?" Claude turned and asked you, a gleam in those beautiful green eyes of his. "How can I forget?" You said looking down at your matching rings, beautiful emerald crystals were cut in the middle. You looked back at Claude and smiled.

~Memory~

It was a nice spring day at Garrech Mach, a younger you was running through the courtyard, a laughing younger Claude chasing right after you. He was calling for you to slow down as you dodged people from left and right. It was an off day where nobody had lessons or duties, just a day to rest and relax, but you obviously weren't doing that. You kept running as the wind pushed you faster and faster until you were put of Garrech Mach and into the woods. You could hear Claude still running after you this time telling you to watch out for things in front of you. You truly loved Claude, having been courting each other for about three months now. A useless game of chase was due to teasingly using magic to grow a mushroom on his head. (He was unhappy about that but couldn't stay mad at you.) You stopped by a hill edge to breathe, but you couldn't because Claude jumped into you and the two of you rolled down the hill. You hekd each other's heads so nobody would get hurt. Once you stopped rolling, you burst into laughter, Claude doing the same. When you stopped laughing, you looked into Claudes eyes, with a smile he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. You smiled before looking around at the scenery, a body of water cascaded down from a beautiful waterfall. You both got up to explore.

You stripped from your uniform to your underclothes which was a cropped tank top and shorts. Claude did the same, appearing with you in a undershirt and shorts. You pulled him along as you went to run across the moss stoned path leading into the waterfall. You slipped a bit while running, Claude stopping to catch you. He smiled down at you while holding you up in his arms. You watched his eyes as he searched yours, your heart beat fast as you felt a spark. You smiled and let go of him before turning and jumping through the waterfall. Claude came in right after you, grabbing your hand and sitting down in the small hidden cave that resided behind the waterfall. The sound of the water echoed throughout the cave and you felt at ease. You laid back on your back, with Claude laying next to you. He grabbed your hand and you sat in a brief silence before your eyes caught a sparkling green for a second.

You got up to go see what it was before calling claude over. Two shards of an emerald sat tucked in a small compartment in the rocks. A small note was left with the shards along with twine and a strong type of string. You and Claude looked at each other before he grabbed the letter to read aloud. "To whoever finds these, you have found a hiding place of mine, it was where I would meet my lover in the past, If you are someone who is deep with a lover please share these shards to keep my love burning. -Lady S" Claude read out and you started putting the items together to make necklaces. "That's so interesting, I wonder if 8t was left by someone from the monastery." You pondered. Claude shrugged and smiled before grabbing your hands that held the necklaces. "Look, (name), I have something I want to promise to you. I want to marry you once we leave the Academy. I want to take you home and be yours, for all eternity. Even if I don't believe there's there's goddess, I want her to look at us with adoration because that's how much I love you. Look, I'm not a romantic person really, but I know I love you, so what do you say? Be mine after were finished at the academy?" Claude gave you a smile as his eyes sparkled. You smiled and reached behind Claude's neck, placing one of the necklacss around his neck. He looked up at you with happy little tears. You gave him the other necklace and he placed it around your neck and hugged you tight to his chest. "You will have to ask my mom, she's she's scary lady but I believe she'll accept you." You said as you hugged him back. "Anything for us, love."

~End of memory~

"I'll never forget what my mother told you when we went to get her blessing during the first year of the war...she was so happy I found you. She always knew I'd end up with her runaway of a best friend's son." You said with a laugh. "Yea, my mom was scared that yours was gonna hunt her down if they didn't see each other soon." Cladue said and laughed along with you before grabbing your hand. He thumbed over the gold and emerald wedding bands, smiling as his eyes lit up like fireflies. He turned his face to yours and leaned in close to hold your face. You met him in the middle with a light loving kiss, holding his hand as a sign you wouldn't let go of him. He was your king, and you were his. His life, his love, his everything. There surely was a spark. And you both knew it.

~End~

#claude von riegan #fe3h claude #claude von riegan x reader #Xmalereader #fe3h claude x reader

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glowingbadger · 3 months

Note

Which of the Three Houses guys will watch their beloved go off on an enemy and have the reaction of "Well mark me down as scared AND horny", do you think?

Ahh, see my dear Friend Anon, this is a nuanced spectrum- but I'll do my best to break it down as I see it:

Scared and Horny:

Claude - has enough common sense to be scared, but definitely hot-blooded enough to be horny about it. A beautiful balance, frankly, though he may tease you about how wild you were.

Raphael - soooo close to qualifying for the "just horny" category, but he is a sweet boy and still wants to check to be sure you're alright (mentally, emotionally, physically) after the battle.

Ignatz - soooo close to qualifying for the "just scared" category lmao. However, as you all know, I see our boy Ignatz as very repressed and very kinky, and seeing you be so powerful and passionate definitely stirs some part of him.

Ferdinand - practically the poster-boy for "scared and horny" tbh; he feels sheepish about it, but he just can't help how your strength and force of will arouse him.

Seteth - also strangely close to the "just horny" category, not that he wants to admit it; seeing you like this really awakens something primal in him from far in his past. Still, his concern for you is ever-present and ultimately pushes aside how entrancing you look conquering your foes so thoroughly.

Sylvain - I almost don't know how to elaborate on this one because, I mean, of course, right? Of course Sylvain is worried, but also just burning inside watching you flushed in the face, damp with sweat, muscles tight, hair wild.......

Just Scared:

Lorenz - oscillating wildly between worried for you and worried for every person around you. Definitely impressed, don't get me wrong- he appreciates battle prowess. But if you're really going berserk, he's worried.

Dedue - while he's likely right there beside you in the fight, he worries about seeing you get particularly aggressive. He's seen what bloodlust has done to the other most valued person in his life, and never wants to see you go too far down that path.

Ashe - it's not as though he can't stomach violence, he just feels that there's a certain responsibility and necessity for rules of engagement when it comes to combat, hence his proclivity for chivalry. Seeing you completely lose yourself worries him, and he'll want to be with you and hold you and make sure you're okay as soon as he can.

Just Horny:

Hubert - I feel like this is more or less self explanatory lmao. Though he does still hope you'll be rational and not do anything unnecessarily risky while eviscerating your foes.

Caspar - again, an obvious choice. Honestly, I think Caspar wants to fuck after just about every battle you two come back from, provided neither of you is hurt too badly.

Jeritza - this is the most obvious one so far lol. Though, when he's more 'himself,' he does silently worry about you sharing in his bloodshed and provoking the Death Knight part of him.

Felix - honestly, it's probably even fiercer than Hubert or Caspar; the lust he feels for you in the heat of battle is both primal and nearly spiritual. This is about his whole life philosophy, after all. After a particularly tough and gruesome fight, he wants nothing more than to absolutely ravage you (and might need to be talked down if he has wounds to attend to first)

Outliers:

Linhardt - ideally, he is not present, as the sight of you "going off" on an enemy is likely to involve waaaaay more blood than he's comfy with. He'll definitely tend to you afterward, and wryly scold you for going overboard (secretly, he was super worried when he heard from your comrades of how ferocious you were out there)

Dimitri - he's in different categories depending on where he's at in his arc tbh. Feral Dimitri is obviously just horny about you diving into the bloodshed with him, while "redeemed" Dimitri has some measure of restraint about it

Yuri - it's more like "amused/impressed and horny," tbh. Though he never looses his head about it- he's still keeping a close eye on you to make sure nothing goes awry. But he won't deny that he enjoys watching, nonetheless.

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an-ambivalent · 11 months

Text

Yandere! FE3H House Leaders Headcanons

Warnings: As this is yandere fiction, this deals with behaviours that can be uncomfortable and triggering to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional, I do not condone this behaviour irl. By clicking the ‘read more/keep reading’ you are consenting to read this at your discretion.

Characters: Edelgard, Claude & Dimitri

Edelgard

Type: clingy & delusional

~Edelgard finds herself lured by your strength and grit. You may or may not be physically strong, but it is your mental fortitude that arises her initial interest in you. During the academy days, she observed how despite the obstacles in your way, and the adversities of your past, you never broke down. You faced whatever came your way head on, or in the instance challenges deterred you momentarily, you always bounced back. She admired this because it was a reflection of who she was as well, and no matter what battle or war, this essence of intrapersonal strength was the most critical part to determine the last ones standing.

~She wants you to be part of the Black Eagles - she needs people with your vitality by her side when she plans to start the war as the Adrestine Emperor. Edelgard is driven, if nothing else - ruthlessly ambitious to achieve what she wants. So, there’s no stopping until you are part of the Black Eagles.

~Once you are part of the Black Eagles, Edelgard inevitably can spend more time with you; by doing so, she sees how hard you work and your unique brilliance that makes you excel in your area of expertise. However, it is your dedication that really makes her fall for you. Subsequently, she begins to imagine your future together. She envisions a new Fodland, unified under the Adesterine Empire. A new era where crests and the church are meaningless, and you’re there to rule right by her side. The rewritten history records would speak of the Flame Emperor and her lover who changed the world with their storm, and their shared ambitions and power that reshaped the sovereignty of Fodland. Eventually, she becomes so consumed by these delusions of your future together, she starts to believe that you are already together. There is no courting, or even asking. It’s just the reality and it’s really frustrating for her when you continue to attempt to dissuade from it. So, she has no other option except to be by your side and cling to you until you realise this.

Claude

Type: manipulative & overprotective

~You were an enigma, and Claude wanted to figure you out. You always wore a genuine bright smile on your face, and kept a cheerful energy. Even during times when everyone else would be visibly upset, you never were. You always maintained your cheerfulness, almost as if you didn’t allow yourself to feel your other emotions. And so out of curiousity, Claude started to watch you discreetly. He noticed that he was right in his assumptions; you never let your true emotions show. In times when something displeased, annoyed, or upset you, it would be only for a mere moment where your mask would slip and your true expression would show. Otherwise, that smile would continue to remain.

~Truthfully speaking, Claude rather preferred the moments where you were just you, instead of wearing that smile he was beginning to detest. He wanted to dig deeper and see more of you to understand why you hid yourself and didn’t trust your housemates enough to show yourself. What could you possibly be hiding?

~Claude was cunning and great at maintaining his own facade if nothing else. Perhaps, that’s why he felt drawn to you in the first place. Since you piqued his interest, he couldn’t just let you go without undoing you. He decided that he was going to break you down to nothing to unveil your secrets if that’s what it took.

~Slowly and surely, Claude started to single you out. From observing you so much, he had a grasp on what he had to say and what buttons to push to set you off. It started off slowly - a brief pointing out of an insecurity, until it kept growing. Seeing that you weren’t close to breaking no matter how much he tried, Claude nearly gave up. But just before he did, you gave in.

~You couldn’t tolerate his bullying any longer; it reminded you too much of the trauma you experienced at home, and to escape from all of that, was exactly why you came to the Officers Academy in the first place.

~As you break down, and start to Claude why he was being so mean to you and beg him to stop, disclosing hints of your trauma in the process, he achieved his goal. He came to understand that you hid yourself because that’s what you had been shamed for, and that’s who you had been traumatised to hide. It was abhorrent because you were so lovely - the real you, the delicate you. You deserved much more than you had ever been given, and he was going to give that to you.

~He embraced you, gently rubbed your back to soothe you, and started to mumble apologies. Then, once you settled, the scelara of your eyes red from the crying, and tears hanging onto your eyelashes, he thought you were so pretty. He cupped your face, and turned it so you were looking up directly in his eyes.

“You don’t have to hide yourself anymore. I promise I won’t let anyone else hurt you. I’ll kill them if they even try.”

Dimitri Type: clingy, stalker, & possessive

~If love-at-first-sight trope met puppy love trope, that’s how your story starts with Dimitri. Definitely, there is physical attraction from the moment he saw you. But more than that, there was also a strange and immersive pull he felt towards you that would make him believe you two were destined soulmates if he was the type of person to blindly believe in such nuances. So, while there was something that felt akin to love at first sight, Dimitri never acted on it, or had plans to act on it. It was something he was aware of, acknowledged, and planned to never think about again. Well, not until you joined the Blue Lions, and then, he had no choice but to be in close proximity to you.

~You have many good qualities and traits that Dimitri admired. But the one that he valued the most, was your kindness. You were always ready to lend a hand to anyone that needed it. You were always there to support and listen to your housemates whenever they required it. But who was there for you when you needed it? Realistically, your housemates were reliable and all of your support and help was reciprocated when you needed it as well. That’s what you loved about the Blue Lions, and had joined their house in the first place. But for Dimitri, whenever you were present, you were the only thing he ended up focusing on. Everything else was as easy to tune out as white noise. So for him, no was ever there for you. He needed to be there for you. And that’s how his puppy love started.

~He starts to leave little presents for you - your favourite snacks, flowers, tea, etc. At first, it was flattering, the way most people would feel when they notice they have a secret admirer. You looked forward to finding the things you liked and reading the sweet notes filled with small and delightful compliments that accompanied them. However, it became frightening when the presents were left in your private spaces like your bedroom. With everything that started to happen with the Flame Emperor and the other assaults at the church recently, you didn’t wait around until something more serious happened to address the problem. Immediately, you asked to speak with your house leader privately, and brought up your concerns.

It was great how proactive you were. You noticed something suspicious and immediately took action to address it; this showed your capability too. But, it was such a shame that you went to the preparator himself.

Dimitri was hurt that you found his expressions of love for you suspicious and suspected him of being a ‘stalker’. But, he was a realist; he understood that love took time and love took hard work. If he was the type to act on mere biological lust, then he would have courted you from the moment he met you. Nonetheless, he was perfectly content with working hard as well and helping you realise that you belonged together.

“It’s hurtful that you became suspicious of my presents. I just wanted to show you how much I love you,” he started, stepping closer and closer to you, until he had his arms wrapped around you.

“W-What?”

“But it’s okay. I understand that you have not realised your feelings for me yet. I’m more than happy to help you with that.” He whispered softly, before clumsily locking his lips with yours.

#yandere x reader #dimitri x reader #yandere dimitri #edelgard x reader #yandere fire emblem #claude x reader #yandere fe3h #fe3h x reader #yandere claude #ambivalent writes #yandere edelgard #fire emblem x reader #yandere headcanons

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frickingnerd · 4 months

Text

just one night

pairing: claude von riegan x gn!reader

summary: as the leader of the alliance, claude knows he can't be with you. and yet, he just can't stay away from you...

"i know you will kill me for this, but…"

claude was inches away from your face, his hot breath against your lips. he was close, too close. both of you knew you shouldn't do this and yet…

"…i don't care"

with that, claude pressed his lips against yours, his hands quickly finding their way onto your hips and pulling you closer. though now that he had you this close, he didn't stop his hands from roaming all over your body.

"breaking the rules for one night is no sin, right?"

claude pulled away, an overly confident smile on his lips. you should've pushed him away then and there and ended this. but you were weak to his smile. and despite the trouble you two would get into, if nobody found out about this, would it really be that bad?

"right… just one night"

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breadbrioche · 9 months

Text

nocturnal

claude von riegan x reader

➳summary: you confess some of your worries to claude when you can’t go to sleep

➳warnings: mentions of war and desertion

➳word count: 2.2k

➳a/n: I began writing this back in may 2020 and I’ve been writing this on and off again ever since so this piece is kinda my baby I can’t believe I finished this

It was quiet.

Not awfully so but something like this only took place during the peak of night. Despite everything happening in the world, this was the time where people stayed blissfully ignorant to the events around them; even if it’s just for a few hours. Looking back, this was something you always took advantage of; your past self always expecting it would be there. But, if the past five years taught you anything, peace and quiet was somewhat of a privilege.

Despite this, you lied numbly in your bed, eyes wide open and observed how the moon’s light casted patterns on your room’s ceiling. Shifting around the bed, the sheets ruffled loudly. You knew you had to sleep; being sleep deprived could cost you your life on the battlefield. All the benefits of some rest were basically being presented right in front of you with your limbs feeling as heavy as lead. Your body was screaming at you to sleep yet, no matter how long you closed your eyes for, your mind buzzed with useless thoughts. A flurry of irrational worries littered your mind for no reason. The warrior in you felt like scoffing; how could you doubt yourself or your comrades when you’ve reached this far?

You weighed out the choices you decided to take mentally. Logically, you should have tried to go to sleep again. But you’ve already tried that a number of times with all the same fruitless outcome. What’s the use in fighting a pointless battle when you knew you were going to lose?

You sighed deeply. It wasn’t the right thing to do but it was really the only thing to do at this point. With the little sensibility you had thrown out the window, you heaved yourself out of the bed. Wincing as your bare feet touched the cold stone, you padded to your desk and retrieved your cloak. After hastily fastening the clasp to it, you retrieved the lantern that was still barely burning and made your way out of your room.

The door creaked too loudly for your liking. If it was any louder, others would have suspected a surprise attack. You speedily paced through the halls of the monastery, a flickering flame illuminating your path and steadily made a beeline through the dining hall, out to the fishing pond. You hissed as the cool breeze made its way underneath your cloak, and tingled your skin as it brushed past (you were expecting it though, what a great idea going out barefoot in pyjamas and what was essentially a glorified blanket).

Ignoring this, you cast your gaze up at the moon and sighed wistfully.

The moon was free, you thought to yourself. It didn’t have any noble obligations and definitely didn’t need to participate in a war. The moon only had one job; to rise at night and set during the day. Imagining how easy that must be, you continued to admire it mindlessly. You even felt yourself feeling a bit sleepy.

“A little late for sightseeing, don’t you think?” A voice called from your surroundings.

You stopped your actions at an instant and spun around, shifting your feet into a defensive stance. You groaned, feeling stupid for not thinking of any possible unwanted intruders lurking outside of the monastery. You bit the inside of your cheek, cursing yourself for not bringing a weapon with you; reason magic was out of the question too - you couldn’t even call yourself proficient. The professor had always told you to practice using it and you guessed this was the reason for it. You were an absolute fool for going outside and your past self was as much a fool (if not more) as you were now for not putting effort in their studies.

You grew wary and stepped back towards the inside of the monastery. As the footsteps got increasingly audible, the person (was it a man?) slowly emerged from the shadows of the night with their arms up innocently. Rays of moonlight danced upon his face and you released the breath you held unknowingly. Your nose shrivelled in distaste.

“Claude von Riegan! What the hell was that for?!” You shrieked.

“How so? I was only asking a question.” The Alliance leader chortled as he sauntered his way over to you. Huffing, you smacked his shoulder lightly.

“Sneaking up on somebody in the middle of a war, even if it’s just a harmless scheme that’s quite silly isn’t it?” You questioned rhetorically. You crossed your arms underneath the cloak to retain your increasingly depleting body temperature, the chilly winds finally catching up to you. “Why are you up at this hour anyways?”

The man next to you merely shook his head and shrugged. “A Master Tactician like myself is far too busy to rest, even when I want to… what about you? I remember asking you the same thing before you diverted the question.”

You scoffed, waving your hand as you made your way to sit on the ledge which overlooked the pond “It’s nothing complicated; there was too much on my mind to actually sleep. I was hoping a change of scenery could lull me to sleep but all I got was our oh so great leader trying to scare me out of my skin” Your legs dangled off the side freely, relishing the cool breezes that went past them

Claude raised an eyebrow curiously, “Too much on your mind, huh? Willing to give me a penny for your thoughts? Wha- don’t give me that look! You never know, it might help you ease up a bit”

“It’s fine, you don’t need to worry about it. They’re stupid anyways” You insisted yet the inquisitive twinkle in his eyes pressed on the topic. You exhaled in defeat, accepting the fact you couldn’t escape the situation.

“You sure you won’t judge?”

Claude nods.

“Well- how do I start this? … sometimes I just get paranoid y’know? This war’s got everyone on edge, it’s made me realise a lot of things and one of them is the fact that I really don’t want to die. Like literally just now when I thought you were an intruder, I was even thinking about using reason magic to defend myself - and you know how hopeless I am with that… Sometimes I don’t even care what happens or who wins. I guess I just want to be alive.”

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably as you recounted your thoughts. As much as you were aware of its awful implications, speaking your thoughts felt like a weight being lifted over off your chest and you could finally breathe again.

How long have you felt this way?

An awkward silence ensued after your statement. Great, you thought. He probably wasn’t expecting that kind of confession. First thinking he was an enemy and now oversharing your darkest of thoughts - what a way to fuck up your relationship with the Leader of the Lieciester Alliance.

Now you couldn’t bear to look at Claude, ashamed, embarrassed, guilty.

You cleared your throat, catching his attention quite easily. “Uh-… sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything; it was selfish of me to think that…”

“It’s okay.” Claude stated firmly. “Don’t apologize for something you can’t control.”

Okay, so he pitied you, even after you’ve basically offended him. Just how could he put up with you like this?

“I was being presumptuous.” You insisted with your head hung low as you turned around and slid off the stone wall you sat on. “Just ignore what I said.”

“No, I think that-“

“Stop. Please, you don’t have to listen to my stupid irrational fears.” You pleaded to him. Feeling uncomfortable tingles behind your eyes, you rushed back inside the monastery with your feet slapping against the freezing ground.

“Hey- Just wai-“ he called out to your steadily retreating form before huffing. If he didn’t hate you before, he definitely did now. Just fantastic.

What’re the chances he might send you off to a skirmish where you have no chances of winning or maybe even imprison you for thinking about desertion? Great. Great. Greatgreatgrea-

You were promptly pulled out of your thoughts as a force pulled the neck of your cloak and sent you falling backwards. You braced for a fall that never came as Claude grabbed you and turned you to face him. One hand on your shoulder secured you still while another was placed on your head to direct your gaze to meet his.

“Would you please just let me finish my sentence?” He expired jokingly. He lightly smoothed down the top of your hair, sensing your nerves and embarrassment.

“To put it frankly, you’re not the only one who’s thought about it.”

You gave him an incredulous look. Did that mean that-?

“In my opinion, there’s no shame in wanting to run away. It’s a normal human instinct.”

No way. There was no way you just heard him say that. He wasn’t gonna kill you? And he’s maybe wanted to do it before too?

“No one wants war. It’s unnecessary and it takes more from you than what you get in the end, even if you do win. It’s easy enough to want to get away from it all.”

“But you're the leader of the alliance! Haven’t you been basically raised from birth learning how to prepare for one?” You almost scoffed, still hesitant. He gave you a small smile, and shook his head, hair falling out of place slightly from the action. Though that did little to diminish his appearance - the tousled hair giving him an air of effortlessness and making him look more attractive than anyone should be this late at night. Goddess, you’ve known Claude all these years and somehow you’ve never thought about how hot he was? You really were discovering new things about yourself (and Claude).

“Being prepared for something barely holds a light to actually doing it.” He explained. “Just when you think you’ve thought of every possible situation, life slaps you in the face and gives you a scenario you’d never even considered! The stress it gives you, urgh!”

You snorted, only Claude could crack a joke about something like this. His grin stretched, teeth almost peeking out between his lips, and patted your head lightly. “Welcome back. Frankly, seeing you so scared like that was unlike you, but it’s understandable. Glad to see you can still smile like that”

Rolling your eyes, you slapped his chest halfheartedly. He gasped accusingly and clutched at his chest to play along with you. It was a crime how nice it felt to be around him - the way he made you feel relaxed and safe during a war was something only he could do.

“Alright I get it now. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Claude gave you a look suggesting that he was still unconvinced. Noticing this, you scowl slightly.

“I’m serious! Thanks to you, I have absolutely no more self deprecating thoughts about running away.”

You assessed his face to gauge his reaction but he simply wore his tried and true smirk, as if this too was just one of his schemes.

“Urgh what do I have to do to make you believe me?!” You groan out. By now, you’ve been outside for longer than you’ve expected (the sky’s colours were changing to a much warmer tone now) and you would like to at least get maybe a couple hours of sleep.

“Do you think I’m just gonna leave you alone after what you just told me? What’s the point in helping you calm your nerves if I just send you back to your room and have you just spiral all over again?” Claude pointed out which made you scoff, crossing your arms.

“What do you propose I do then, Mr Master Tactician? I don’t really fancy staying out here all night.”

“Well then just sleep with me in my room, of course!”

You gave him an incredulous look, eyes probably bulging out of your eyes. Were you hearing correctly? For such a smart guy, does he even know what he’s saying? You’re almost definitely sure he’s messing with you.

“Are you serious?” You gaped. He gave a confident nod.

“But you only have one bed in your room?” You clarified, just to be sure.

Claude huffed in amusement and tugged on your arm. “It will be fine. C’mon, bed is big enough for the two of us. ”

You rolled your eyes but moved your arms so that you linked your with Claude, finally giving in. He beamed at you, excited to have accepted his request. Beginning to guide you the way to his room, you stopped the man in his tracks to give him a stern glare.

“If you push me off the bed, I’ll lose all my hope in you and then I’ll really run away.”

“Well then it's a good thing that I don’t have any weird sleeping habits! You’ll get plenty of sleep tonight.”

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three houses x reader #fe3h #fe3h x reader #fire emblem x reader #claude von riegan #claude von riegan x reader #own works

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randoimago · 6 days

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Hiiii!! Could I request Yuri, Claude, Sylvain, and Dimitri with a reader who is surprisingly knowledgeable about a lot of things? The reason it's surprising? Reader hates anything school related like studying and is a big ol' goof.

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Character(s): Yuri, Claude, Sylvain, and Dimitri

Note(s): I feel this so much. Hated studying in school, but I loved learning random facts

Claude

Not too surprising to Claude. Studying is boring, heck school is boring. He doesn't blame you if you fall asleep in class or don't turn in homework or anything.

Instead, he'll try to find ways to make it more fun for you. You're already pretty knowledgeable so it shouldn't be too hard to find ways to get you more into it.

It does amuse him to see some teacher or professor call on you during class because they think you're dozing off or not paying attention, but you easily answer the question.

Dimitri

He's the one that will give some light scolding if you sleep in class or try to skip classes because it's boring or something.

Dimitri knows you're smart and don't need all the lessons, but he still thinks it's good to contribute to the class. Even if it doesn't benefit you, it could help your other classmates learn some new things. Or maybe you have advice that they didn't even consider for learning.

He tries to be a good mediator to get you to try even a little for studying or classes, but he will just throw you over his shoulder if you insist on being stubborn.

Sylvain

He's the same way. He much prefers goofing off and flirting with you instead of studying. As long as you both can still pass exams then he doesn't stress too much about the studying aspect.

Really does prefer lounging with you and talking philosophy. It makes everyone do double takes when hearing you both sounding so smart considering you don't do anything in class. He finds that amusing.

Of course, there are moments when Ingrid threatens him to actually study and then he'll drag you with him to keep him company. It's fun to just talk to you about inaccuracies in the textbooks as opposed to doing actual studying.

Yuri

Yuri finds it amusing just because he hasn't been afforded the luxury of schooling and here you are at a good academy and not even trying.

Sure, there might be a touch of bitterness in his tone, but he hides it cause that's just life. No point in being angry because you got the better hand.

He'd make a comment about "Since you have better things to do and already know what you're doing, you might as well drop out." Mostly as a joke but there is a glint in his eyes as if he's challenging you to see if you'd actually do it. Acts smug when you still waste your time going to classes.

Taglist: @unhelpfulnpc

#fe3h x reader #fire emblem x reader #yuri x reader #dimitri x reader #claude x reader #sylvain x reader #fe3h claude x reader #fe3h yuri x reader #fe3h dimitri x reader #fe3h sylvain x reader

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fiction-box · 2 years

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Hello hello! Here is my Claude request again:

Reader has always wanted to fly but never had access to a pegasus/wyvern until coming to Garreg Mach. Claude, of course, offers to give reader a ride on his wyvern to help fulfill this childhood dream of theirs (and as an excuse to hold them close- *cough* uh no you didn't hear anything this is for safety purposes only)

Feel free to use the same reader from my first Claude request! Plus reader is a little nervous about heights so they're definitely gonna be holding on to the nearest thing for dear life lol (also idk if this detail will matter but reader is very much an animal lover and will certainly be cooing over Claude's wyvern like they do with all the monestary's cats and dogs hehe)

Thank you again in advance!!

I got your other note, too. I'm glad you like my style! Of course, there are things I must attend to outside of this blog, but it always puts a smile on my face to get a request during my day. I'm a bit of a dreamer (though that doesn't mean my head is in the clouds), so these things tend to fuel my imagination. Then, I'm able to put them into stories effectively before sharing the result with you all! How lucky I am to have such a gift.

On that note, I believe someone needs to bash me over the head with a stick because once again, I did not entirely listen to your request. I somehow turned "a little nervous about heights" into a full blown fear of them. Forgive me. Naturally, before I noticed that I messed up, I managed to write over half the fic.

(Also, thanks for coming in clutch with that resend! I was devastated when I accidentally deleted it!)

Let me know what you think! Requests are open to all!

The story will be continued under the cut.

“Uh oh. Looks like someone’s developed a crush on my wyvern. Should I introduce you two?”

Standing at the entrance to the stables, you turned around at his sudden appearance. Your flustered reaction to his words turned to laughter once you realized what he meant, “Could you really? That would be great! Oh, but what should I say? How should I act?”

It appeared that Claude couldn’t fight his smile at your antics, “Just be yourself! Fate will work itself out.”

“Careful, the Goddess might get mad at you for that one.”

Easily, the two of you fell into a good mood as he led you to his wyvern.

“So is it friendly, or will it bite my hand off?”

“I’d imagine you’re a familiar face,” Claude reached forward to pet it, himself, “so you’ll be fine. Besides, you’re here with me. Pretty sure you’re safe as long as you don’t suddenly attack me.”

“Ah, well. There go my plans for the day,” you remarked, slowly stretching your arm out for the beast to inspect.

It sniffed you once, twice, then leaned forward into your hand. Its scales were rough, but so long as you stroked in the right direction, it was comfortable.

The wyvern seemed to have more of a preference, though. The more affection you gave it, the more noise it made. Soon enough, it began trying to get closer to you, though the chains attaching its harness to the wall wouldn’t permit it to go far.

“Oh my- you are adorable!” you cooed.

“Careful. This one’s special,” Claude commented. “I’m not a fan of the idea that we might draw an audience, what with all the noise you two are making.”

You took your attention away from the creature as he did his best to silence its movements. From your many visits to the castle of Duke Riegan when you were younger, you came to recognize this wyvern as belonging to Claude. If he didn’t want it to have a crowd, he probably had a good reason.

Originally, you two had been sent here on stable duty. However, you highly doubted that your teacher would suddenly classify this as an acceptable way to spend your time.

“I suppose you have a point,” you frowned. “It’s just…I have never actually seen one of these up close. It’s always been a dream of mine to fly at least once, but…”

“What’s been stopping you?”

I’m afraid of heights. “Quite a few things, actually. There aren’t exactly a surplus of wyverns and pegasi in the area I’m from, and my family is quite stubborn about not needing them. That means my teachers have firm instructions not to let me ride one, so I haven’t had the opportunity to learn how.”

“That’s it? Well, I sure don’t see any teachers around here. And would you look at that? There’s a wyvern about ten feet in front of your face.”

You didn’t smile, “I don’t know…”

I can’t do it. I’m too scared.

“If you want, I can take you flying,” he offered. “I happen to know for a fact that today’s skywatch is made up entirely of students. Nobody will recognize you, and if they do, there’s no way they could possibly know about your little ‘obligation’.”

“Maybe, but…” you eyed the wyvern.

He paused, waiting for the rest of your sentence. It didn’t take him too long to figure out the end wasn’t coming.

“Is there some other reason?”

Really, you didn’t want him to know. It was embarrassing enough when you were the only one that knew about it, you didn’t need your best friend figuring it out and teasing you about it.

“I…”

“Oh, I see,” Claude picked up, ever the vigilant one between you two. “You’re afraid.”

Unable to find the words, you settled for a nod.

“Come on, what’s so scary? Worried about what your family might think if you went behind their backs?”

He received a look from you, “After everything you’ve talked me into doing these past few years? I doubt you and I will start getting caught now.”

“Okay…and I know you aren’t scared of my wyvern after how friendly you two were a moment ago.”

You laughed, “No, of course not!”

“Well?”

He was only trying to help, you reasoned. Besides, he already knew you were afraid. Telling him why couldn’t be so bad, right?

“...I’m nervous about being so high up without anything to keep me safe. No ties, no railing…”

In truth, you had always been somewhat thankful that your parents had forbidden you from riding the animals. It meant you never would have to reveal your fear, and your teachers couldn’t force you to face it.

Yet here you were, spoilt for choice, and you were freezing up. You still yearned to fly, but by no means did that translate to you wanting to face your fear.

“...I don’t know…” you repeated, softer.

You could feel Claude stare at you for a moment, “It’s not like you’ll be on your own. You’ve got me here with you, and I promise not to let you fall. I can hang onto you the whole time, if you want. Plus, you can always hold the horn of the saddle to feel more secure.”

It didn’t sound so bad when he put it that way…

“I swear, you won’t have to do anything other than sit. I can handle the rest by myself.”

“Have you ever fallen off?”

“Not that I can remember,” he joked, “but trust me, I won’t let that happen to you.”

How old was he now, eighteen? You were well aware of how many years of experience Claude had with wyvern riding. The leader of the Golden Deer was offering to help you achieve your own small dream, but it was strange.

The existence of this wyvern was not known to many, and Claude had never even mentioned owning one to the professor. You wondered how many students were aware he actually knew how to fly.

Well, if this was your one chance, you were taking it. The details could be sorted out later. Once you were in the air, you would have no other choice than to face your fear, right?

No, that was a horrible line of reasoning.

Just shut up and get on the wyvern.

With false confidence, you let him lead the way to the wyvern’s saddle. He went up first, then extended a hand in order to help you up.

“There you go. Now, put your left foot on that loop and step on it. Keep holding my hand so you don’t lose your balance.”

You followed his instructions easily enough until he was able to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you up. Seating yourself as comfortably as you could, you moved your hands to hold the saddle’s horn. Claude kept his left arm at its place around your waist.

“Alright, you ready?” he asked, pulling a key out of his pocket. The brunet undid the chains binding the saddle to the wall and let them fall to the ground.

Really, how bad could it be?

“Yes. Go ahead.”

He guided the wyvern out of the stables through the gate you left open when you entered. Then, with a few movements of his right arm that you didn’t get to see, you felt yourself leave the ground.

Immediately, your eyes shut and your grip tightened.

Maybe you weren’t ready, yet. This felt similar to signing a contract without reading it first. If your eyes remained closed, though, you could remain calm. That way, you wouldn’t realize what was happening until you opened your eyes at the peak of your little flight. You were sure it wouldn’t be so bad by then.

But when the time finally came, and Claude informed you that you weren’t going to fly any higher, your eyes did not open.

Somehow, from behind you, he managed to pick up on this.

“What’s the point of doing this if your eyes are shut? We may as well have just gone outside on a windy day and put you on a rock,” he teased.

“I’m trying, I just…”

“Seriously, if you don’t open your eyes, you’ll get all disoriented and pass out. Then I’ll have to fly back without dropping you, take you to Manuela, and explain everything in a way that doesn’t send one of us home or get my wyvern banned.”

Sad as the second part was, your mind was gripped in fear at the thought of the first, “What? That can’t be true!”

“Hey, I’ve seen more than a few wyvern riders fly into caves without their helmets attached properly and come back out limp on their mounts!” he shouted over the wind, “Something about the harsh breeze going past your ears and your eyes not understanding why.”

He must have been lying to you, right? There was no way such a ridiculous story could be true.

“Look, whether you open your eyes or not is up to you. All I’m saying is that if you don’t, I’m turning back to the stables. I don’t need your parents or any teachers spreading rumors that the future Duke Riegan made some noble’s daughter pass out on his wyvern.”

Yeah, that did sound pretty bad.

“Alright, I’ll do it. Just give me a moment.”

You didn’t feel safe enough on the wyvern; that was your chief complaint. Sure, Claude’s arm acted as a safety harness, but you still felt the need to grip the horn of the wyvern’s saddle. If you could just cover your eyes with your hands, you knew you could muster the courage to open your eyes. Then, it would only be a matter of spreading your fingers open to peek through the gaps until finally, you could pull your hands away.

But how were you meant to achieve all that when you barely felt safe now?

Then it hit you. Of course the answer was right in front of you (or, behind you, rather.)! Did you not just refer to Claude in your thoughts as a safety harness?

“Alright, I’ve got a plan. For this to work, though, I’ll need to release the saddle.”

“Sure. Whenever you’re ready.”

“No, that’s…” that was a terrible explanation on your part, “That’s the thing. I feel as though I might fall off if I do. Could you just…tighten your hold on me to make up for my own lack of grip? At least that way, I can trick my mind into thinking I’m attached to something.”

The literal second you stopped talking, you wanted to slap your palm against your forehead. What did you just ask Claude to do? And so casually, too. It didn’t help that you had no backup plan; everything was riding on how he chose to answer your question.

But before you could process what that really meant, you felt him shifting behind you. Your back was moved into his chest as the pressure around your waist increased.

“How’s this?”

“Perfect.” you said lamely, attempting to play it off.

And then all of a sudden, fear engulfed you as you realized you would actually have to do this task you thought up in your head.

Uncomfortable with entirely free-handing it, you lifted one hand to cover your eyes as the other braced itself on Claude’s arm for support.

This can work. I can do this!

You opened your eyes within the darkness of your hand, then you slowly began to fan it out and peer through the gaps. Through them, you could see just how high up you were.

At once, you closed your hand and shut your eyes. It was too much. Instinctively, your body tried to back away only to be met with Claude’s chest. You stopped at the resistance, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, and started to shake.

You were trapped in the sky. There was nowhere for you to retreat. Your breathing was out of control, you were out of control…you couldn’t control anything up here! What were you thinki-

“I’m right here with you,” Claude spoke into your ear. “Take it easy. You’re alright.”

“I can’t. I can’t do it.”

He kept his tone calm, “Sure you can. The only thing stopping you is your fear, remember? So, what part of this are you so afraid of?”

“When I look at it...when I think about it…I’m afraid I might fall off.”

“But I’m here, aren’t I? Move all you’d like, but I’m not going to let you go unless you ask me to. And even if you do fall, I’m right here to catch you.”

“Right.” He was persuasive when he wanted to be, you gave him that. You wanted to believe him, and so you allowed his words to bring you into a state of ease.

“What else?”

What else was there, really? Thinking back, you never had an issue looking out at the view from the top balcony of your manor, so long as you stayed away from the rail. So maybe heights weren’t the issue.

“I think that’s it. I’m not afraid of heights, I’m afraid of falling.”

“Well, you aren’t falling right now, are you? In this moment, you’re not facing any of your fears.”

That was…true, wasn’t it? You truly wanted to see the view from up here; you weren’t afraid of the sight by any means.

“So open your eyes. It’d be a waste, otherwise.”

You followed his instructions, opening your eyes from behind the darkness of your own hand. Gently, you felt Claude’s own hand brush against your own, slowly pulling it away. If he was waiting for some form of protest, you didn’t give him any.

It wasn’t a beautiful sight, really. It was predictable; exactly what you would have guessed the monastery grounds looked like from the sky.

Even so, you felt accomplished. The feeling made the whole experience that much better.

“How anticlimactic,” you commented. Well, at least you wouldn’t have to go through this episode in a place where it mattered, like on a battlefield.

Claude laughed so hard that he almost did fall off the wyvern (which meant he almost pulled you with him!). You wouldn’t let him hear the end of it, lecturing and insulting him the whole journey to the ground for “almost killing you”, “endangering your life”, and of course, for how “terrible of a friend” he was.

He settled for doing the majority of the stable work to make it up to you.

#fe claude x reader #fire emblem #fe x reader #fiction #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fe3h x reader #fire emblem x reader #fe3h claude x reader #claude x reader #claude von riegan #fe claude #fe

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