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vacantgodling · 9 months

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💧 rain for the weather asks babey fuck me up

💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written?

OHOOOOO we have so many contenders because i love writing sad shit—i got so many you could probably ask me this question several times and get a different answer LMAO. but honest to god i think sword of a great hero is my most painful excerpt because it’s just… the calm before the storm. lath and ensio both know they’re gonna die. and just UGHHHH.

since it seems that in haven’t posted this excerpt on this version of my blog have it in its entirety here and cry :)

“This will be our final stand.” Lath touched a hand to his chest. He could feel the sluggish bleeding from under the gash in his armor that lead to the gaping wound in his upper abdomen, just underneath his ribcage. There was no one to heal him now — hadn’t had anything like that since they started this death march — at this point his nerves were beyond the point of registering pain. The others who’d joined him were long dead now: either picked off or mauled, died with a fight gnashing in their teeth, or a whimper absolving from their throat. Only two of them from the initial 33 warriors remained, and somehow Lath always knew it would come to this.

Ensio stood astride him, his regal bow broken and long forgotten. Lath had given him his second sword to wield in its stead, and the grip was slightly off, and the blade shorter than he remembered Ensio liked, but it would do. Neither of them fought with the expectation to live. In the clearing where they stood, a large, curled structure rose, towering to almost the heavens above them and was teeming with magic so strong that Lath could practically smell it. The Labyrinth. The voice of Their Lady MUINENS boomed from the heavens. As your final stand, you will drive them to their dungeon.

“Aye.” Ensio’s usual baritone was a rough wheeze. If they’d had time to rest, to heal, Lath would’ve guessed it was a punctured lung. He’d taken a claw to the sternum hard in a battle days before, and had been wheezing since. Lath could not offer him any comforting hand… Ensio wouldn’t have wanted it either. But the two men stood beside one another, waiting for their cue

“What do you suppose Cerullius is like?” Ensio garnered to ask. Though he’d assured Lath it was fine that the grip was off — better him, the regular sword wielder, have the better blade after all — he was still fidgeting with his grip, whirling it between his fingers, like the drills they ran together as boys. “Do you think it’d be as warm and comforting as a fine pair of tits?”

“Even on your deathbed, you’re a lech.” Lath’s golden eyes scanned the horizon. It seemed fitting that they would die on the brink of a beautiful morning. That the land here was so wholly unfamiliar but was beautiful somehow. There were no trees or swamps or lakes around— only a large expanse of grassland and short, wiley flowers that had the audacity to bloom. If Lath were a more poetic man, he would pity them. Soon they would be covered with blood, and guts, and entrails, and stinking corpses, of beasts who refused to be herded, and the bodies of two Terraneans who dared to pretend they were shepherds.

“It’s not as though either of us would ever know.” Ensio mused, but not unkindly. “Your horrible habit of unblinking deterred so many.”

“Yet your horrible beard drove off more.” Lath quipped back and the rumble of a chuckle that left Ensio, even as he continued to bleed, made a quirk of a smirk tug at Lath’s lips.

“I would offer to let you experience it on my own chest, as a parting gift,” Ensio started. “But I’m afraid this armor is too hard to remove one handed.” Lath’s eyes flickered back from the horizon to his friend. His left arm still hung only barely in its socket enough to be a meager semblance of functional. If they had anything to cauterize it, Lath would’ve offered to cut it off for him— spare him the dead weight. But they didn’t. And Lath didn’t want to watch his friend bleed out. At least in the frenzy of battle, Ensio’s final cry would hopefully be the only thing he’d witness of it. He had stared death in the face since the day he was born, yet the thought of it cradling its welcoming hands around his closest friend wasn’t something Lath could reconcile with himself.

“Do you regret following me?” Lath asked suddenly. A wind had begun to pick up from the west and both men turned to face it. Though they could not yet hear it, Lath knew Ensio’s sharp, hawk brown eyes would’ve been able to pick out the first details of the beasts and monsters headed this way. He would see their horns, feathers, too wide jaws, inhuman structures and limbs. He would see them fleeing towards what would become their new sanctuary— or prison. The Labyrinth gleamed like a gem in the climbing morning light, with its two guards to usher in the onslaught. The creatures’s flight was brought on by their own gods, they both knew. And though neither men could see them, they’d had more proof than they had in their entire lives that those beings they worshipped were tangible. That they were there.

“The only thing that I regret is not having a roll in the sack just once before I died.”

“Be serious.”

Ensio turned to Lath. And as always, his eyes were dark with a wisdom Lath never claimed to understand, and never would, not as long as the two of them were alive. They turned soft with something like fondness. “I would rather die a hero by your side than waste away in Ubwyn, surrounded by every waking reminder of those I’ve failed.”

“You haven’t failed.” Lath couldn’t help but growl. Yet, Ensio went on calmly, unperturbed by his outburst.

“My mother died. My brothers, my sisters. We couldn’t bury them, we could only leave them behind. It’s not the little king’s fault, nor Zenith’s, nor yours. I just know my father will be heartbroken that he will only see me in Cerullius, not his love, nor the starlight’s that lit his life. If I die by you, Lath, maybe our journey to Cerullius won’t be so horrible. Maybe I can use this as penance for not guiding the rest of my family home.” He let out a shuddering breath—a wheeze. “It’s not a bad death, to die by my truest, dearest friend.” Lath could only hum. And as the shrieking and wailing of the beasts drew near, Lath let his hand over his wounded chest go limp, and he shuffled to Ensio, pulling the taller man into a tight, crushing hug. His armor plates cut Lath’s cheek, and the hug was far too tight for either of their aching ribs but it was important and needed and real. Ensio pulled back first.

“Our people will remember you, Lath. As the hero you were always meant to be. Even if you never received your Oracle’s Blessing, your valor is worth far more than that.”

“What was your Oracle’s Blessing En?” Lath couldn’t help but ask. It wasn’t a secret commonly shared but he suddenly felt that he needed to know. Ensio’s tired lips quirked into a bemused smile.

“To play the sword of a great hero.”

#IM NOT NORMAL ABOUT THEM YOUR HONOR #IM NOT FUCKING NORMAL #technically even though they do die: lath is venerated to a guardian and ensio becomes his sword #(but can still take a humanoid form and has consciousness etc)#so like they aren’t Dead Forever but #idk this was the closest i’ve ever come to crying writing something i just love them so much WEH #s: tcol #ren writing

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rosietrace · 10 months

Text

『 So this is love..? 』

Characters: Victoria Shard, Clarabella, Aldrich Edelweiss (@revivemyreverie)

Pairing: Victoria Shard x Aldrich Edelweiss

Mentioned: Lady Larissa, Valentine Edelweiss

Synopsis: Love can come in many different forms. One of which involves blood soaked fingertips.

Warning(s): Implied murder, Aldrich being Aldrich, mentions of Aldrich killing a girl, me not being normal about them, how did this oneshot even get conceptualized, potential ooc

[ Apologies for any out of character ]

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

↳ Victoria Shard, the beautiful manipulator

It was a beautiful night in the Edelweiss empire. The imperial family had taken great lengths to make sure that tonight's gala was one nobody could forget.

Aldrich was not among them.

He found the event lifeless and mundane, not to mention the number of witches in his midst didn't make it any better.

Aldrich began narrowing his eyes at his younger brother, Valentine, whilst he was mingling with the other nobles.

The servant beside him hesitated in pouring him another glass. “My lord,” they called out. “You seem to be in a sour mood. Might I pour more refreshments into your glass?”

Aldrich shook his head. “No,” he replied bluntly, little to no expression on his face. “That won't be necessary.”

Pursing their lips, the servant beside him gave him a curt yet nervous nod before backing away to give Aldrich his space.

The fact that I'm required to participate in such events is already a pain as it is…. Aldrich thought, leaning against his father's throne - The one he was ‘destined’ to sit on as the heir.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. And there's quite the number of witches in appearance…. If I'd had my knife with me, I would've….

He chuckled sinisterly at that thought. “I'll put that into consideration. In case…. One of them is enabling my already putrid mood.”

His words easily disturbed the servants nearby, as well as the other guests. Alas, that didn't seem to stop the numerous princesses, duchesses, or some daughters of a marquess or viscount from ogling at him.

He slouched ever so slightly, his frown deepening.

“If only you were here, my savior…”

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

“So this is the girl?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Clicking her tongue, Victoria placed her hand over her hip, glowering at the poor girl looking up at her - Tied to a chair, mouth covered by rags and slightly bruised.

“Give me information,” Victoria ordered.

The servant beside her - Clarabella - nodded, unbothered by the muffled cries of the girl.

“Name, lady Larissa. Daughter of viscount Larissa,” Clarabella continued, keeping her eyes closed. “An avid churchgoer, and strikingly similar in appearance to the girl prince Edelweiss had once searched for upon said girl's death.”

A hum left Victoria's lips. “I see….” she looked back at Clarabella. “Anything else?”

Clarabella shook her head. “Not much, your grace. However, it should be worth noting that Lady Larissa's presence should upset Prince Edelweiss.”

Or rather, both Edelweiss princes. Victoria knew that much.

She also knew of her lovely Aldrich's little secret. He killed that girl from the choir, all because she had been - in some way - involved with his brother.

And yet she didn't care.

A smile fell upon Victoria's face. One as sinister and bone-chilling as Aldrich's. How endearing…

From the nearby table, she picked up a knife. One that she had ‘borrowed’ from Aldrich.

With a simple motion, she grazed the edge of the knife against Lady Larissa's jaw. “You did nothing to me…” her jaw clenched. “And yet you continue to be such a nuisance.”

She let out a breath once blood was drawn from the jaw. Neither Clarabella nor Lady Larissa could tell if it was out of satisfaction or exasperation.

Suddenly, she pointed the knife at Clarabella. “This girl has no sense of importance to me,” Victoria spoke bluntly. “And yet…”

Clarabella bowed her head, beginning to leave the room - Well aware of what her mistress was about to do.

Leaving her with Lady Larissa - tied up, weeping, in her final resting place.

“Some part of me wants to tear you apart, myself…. If not for me, then for Aldrich.”

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

His mood dampened as the night went on. Nothing seemed amusing enough, it seems.

The longer the night prolonged, the more witches came his way. And alas, Aldrich had not brought his knife with him.

Hell, he didn't even seem to hear the sound of trumpets blaring when it came time to announce the entrance of a guest who arrived.

That is…. Until their name was uttered.

“Presenting, lady Victoria Shard, heiress to the house of Shard!”

Aldrich shifted in his seat, eyes suddenly wide with his lips parted. In the distance, Victoria looked back at him, a radiant smile donning her face.

She was gorgeous.

When she finally approached, Aldrich took in every single little detail of the features of her face, body, and even the gown she wore.

The gown, the most. Intricate lace-made sleeves, and lovely ebony silks. Subtle, simple.

Yet breathtaking.

In the corner of Aldrich's eye, he catches a glimpse of red on the hem of Victoria's skirt. Visible enough to make it seem like a deliberate design choice, but not large enough to be the first thing anyone sees.

He knew better than to assume it was a deliberate design choice on his savior's part. Of course he would.

Kissing the back of her gloved hands, Aldrich looked up with a dashing smile. “My savior,” he said. “Care for a promenade in the gardens?”

Chuckling, Victoria removed his hand from hers to lift his chin. “In the gardens? Rather scandalous, don't you think?”

He giggled, relishing in the sound of her voice like it was a sound from Apollo's lyre. He nodded, wrapping an arm around hers and escorting her out of the ballroom, and into the gardens.

In doing so, he advised his brother to take over as ‘star of the show’. Much to his dismay.

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

“In the shining moonlight, you continue to bewitch me with the dazzling gleam of those lovely sapphires in the sockets of your eyes, my darling savior.”

She giggled while he guided her around the garden. “Oh my,” she replied. “Do I take that as a good thing, or a bad thing?”

His smile widened a little. “Take it however you'd like, my dear. You shan't escape my grasp now after months of being together.”

Victoria smirked. “That I am aware of, my prince,” she spoke, kissing the top of his head.

Hearts seemed to appear in Aldrich's eyes at that moment. My prince. Sevens, that sounded incredible when she said it.

“My prince,” Victoria called out. “Don't you think this is a bit scandalous? Two of us, promenading here, unchaperoned?”

He chuckled, knowing full well that this was her way of teasing him. Nodding mischievously, Aldrich walked slightly ahead of her and turned around - The moon illuminating his silhouette behind him.

“Do you hate such a thing, my dear?”

Crossing her arms, Victoria shook her head in amusement, smile softening. “Oh, I could never.”

Very quickly halfway through their walk, Victoria noticed how Aldrich guided her throughout the garden.

It was almost like he was maneuvering her around to avoid running into something. Was he perhaps hiding something from her?

That shan't be the case. But then again, knowing Aldrich, Victoria knew that the possibility of avoiding a recently rotted corpse wouldn't be out of the question.

Besides, she'd do the same. Regardless, she thought it'd be good to bring that topic to light.

“Aldrich,” the young man in question soon found Victoria by his side once more. He looked up at her, tilting his head in curiosity, wondering what she was going to say.

“Are you maneuvering me around the garden?”

Aldrich paused, slowing down as he walked.

“My savior…” For a moment, and only for a moment, Aldrich's expression darkened. “Whatever do you mean?”

In tandem, Victoria matched his energy. Only this time, she didn't falter her now darkened expression.

“You shouldn't try hiding the truth from me, my dear,” she now stood in front of him, lifting his head by its chin just as she did moments before. Only this time, it was for a different reason.

“Please, my dear, do tell me the truth.”

She soon moved her hand from his chin to his cheek, eyes softening. In response, Aldrich placed his own hand over Victoria's.

“I have not a clue what you're on about, my savior,” he replied, leaning into her touch.

Eyes narrowing slightly, Victoria inched closer to his face. “You need not hide the truth from me, Aldrich.”

It was odd, really. Her own way of saying: I don't care what you do, I'd still love you, anyway.

Sighing, Aldrich leaned his forehead against hers. “You know me far too well for my own good, my darling.”

That essentially confirmed all of Victoria's suspicions. And she didn't need to know any more than that.

Slowly, in an attempt to ‘beg’ for her forgiveness, Aldrich removed her gloves. He kissed the back of her bare hand now, almost far too passionately than he had originally intended.

And when he pulled away, he looked back at his beloved, smiling.

He didn't utter a word about her blood-soaked fingertips. Because he couldn't give a damn.

In their eyes, they can call whatever they see - As love.

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

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