Fire Emblem Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts

I Caught Fire excerpt

Part of an Awakening fic I started writing years ago.

“Don't Leave Me” pt.1

In the end, she knew that war, on the whole, really did just boil down to a numbers game. As long as Chrom was still alive at the end of a fight, that battle counted as won. But not to her. Never to her. They had been lucky thus far- the Shepherds, at any rate. The Ylissean League as a whole suffered many losses, good soldiers, men and women who's family and friends would never be able to fill the hole in their lives once word got back to them that their loved ones were counted amongst the dead.

She took every one of those losses personally.

Even though she didn't know most of them. Even though she had no obligation to feel anything towards them. “War is Hell”, her friends told her, trying to lift the dark cloud that hovered over her after every battle in vain. She knew war was Hell, that was why they fought- to finally put an end to the reign of hell on earth. Sacrifices had to be made, but who was she to decide which lambs to send to the slaughter? One life was nothing when weighed against millions in the grand scheme of things. She had told herself that from the beginning. But that didn't mean that one life was worth more than another.

At least, that would've been her response had anyone asked. Aloud. In her mind, and in her heart however, she knew that was not the case. Aversa's final words to Chrom from their final battle rang loud and mocking in her ears. “A sweet sentiment, and easily spoken when you bear no love for the one...” It pained her to admit the old hag was right. And under normal circumstances, she'd have vehemently denied it to her dying day. But everything was different now. Everything was new and wonderful and terrifying and--

“Blazing hells, woman, are you still slaving over that silly game board of yours?” The voice came so suddenly, so unexpectedly close, that Bryn started, her hand twitching involuntarily, sending three of her little carved figures flying off the table. She looked over her left shoulder, even though the voice rang in her right ear, lips pulled into a frown and her brow furrowed.

“What have I told you about sneaking up on me, Gangrel?” He met her displeasure with an exasperated frown of his own. “How is it sneaking up on you if I've been here the whole time? Don't tell me you've forgotten about me?” Her eye widened slightly, and she quickly looked away, a faint pink tinge on her cheeks. She could hear the man behind her clucking his tongue disapprovingly. “Really now, I'm hurt. It's one thing that you forget to eat and sleep and bathe when you get caught up in your silly little tactics, but to forget your fiancée? Wholly unacceptable!”

There it was. Fiancée. Betrothed. Such a simple little word, but one that had turned her entire world (and world views with it) on it's head. Breathing deeply in an attempt to calm her fluttering heart, Bryn slid off the stool she had been sitting on for the past hour or so, kneeling on the hard ground in search of her errant game pieces.

“My 'silly little tactics', might I remind you, are the only thing standing between you and a grisly death.” The younger woman tried to make it sound like a flippant, offhand remark, but even she could hear the way fear hardened her voice. She wasn't entirely sure what scared her more- the thought of his death, or what the thought of his death inspired in her. It wasn't the fear of it happening- that was normal, completely understandable. No, it was the cold, selfish disregard for everyone else's life that was unacceptable. As the tactician, she had to keep everyone safe, make the most pragmatic decisions. But really, what did even a million lives matter when weighed against the one she loved most?

Unacceptable.

She started again as a larger hand covered her. Bryn looked up, her single brown eye meeting a pair of dark red. “Was that meant to be a shot against me, my lady?” Gangrel asked sardonically. “Because I can assure you my amazing fighting prowess was keeping my hide intact long before I ever met you.”

On the one had, she knew he was right. He was strong, cunning and versatile- everything she looked for  in a solider she planned on putting on the front lines. He'd fought on the front lines himself, as a Plegian solider, as it's king, and as one of the dread pirates. The truth in his words made them an even harder pill to swallow. A pill she would much rather spit out.

“Spoken like a true dead man.” she intoned coldly. As her fiancée (ugh, there it was again- her Achilles heel) gaped at her most flatteringly, she removed her hand from his, resuming her search for the errant game pieces. They had flown farther than she'd noticed, landing close to her cot. She picked up the small pieces of wood, turning them over in her hands for a moment. She'd painstakingly carved each one of them herself in the likeness of her friends. It helped in many ways. It helped her feel closer to them. It helped her remember the gravity of her duty. She literally held their lives in her hands. One of the figures, she noted with belated surprise, was a roguish trickster, a small crown perched on his brow. The full scale model was still kneeling behind her. She could feel his stare drilling holes in her back. Rather than give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his death glare, Bryn closed her eye, curling her fingers around the small figure in her palm. It was almost as if her subconscious had know what she was doing when she jumped that first time. After all, this was where she wanted him- safely off the game board. As far from the battlefield as possible and out of harm's way. His voice, that ever mocking tone, snapped her from her thoughts.

“So this is what our relationship has devolved into? You hurling insults at me, then giving me the silent treatment? I thought couples didn't start hating each other until after the wedding...” Ugh, damn that man. He always knew how to strike chords with her. She pushed herself to her feet and walked back over to where Gangrel still kneeled by the table. Setting the game pieces back on the board, she leaned down and took both his hands in hers, pulling him to his feet as well. It was a mark of how much he loved her that he indulged her with these small moments of weakness. Anyone else, and he'd have slapped their hand away, probably with an expletive for good measure.

“You know I don't hate you, Gangrel. I love you with all that I am and more.” It'd have been foolish to constantly reassure someone else of her love for them, but Bryn always had to remind herself not to take simple things like this for granted with the once Mad King. She often felt that if she forgot to tell him even for one day, that he might simply assume she no longer cared for him. “That's why I have to do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

“I'm not a child, Bryn. I'm not some milksop who doesn't know which end of a sword to hold. Hells, I've been fighting for my life since most of these Ylissean fools were still in diapers. I can hold my own.” Again, she knew he was right. But even the most battle hardened warriors could meet their ends unexpectedly. Pride always goeth before the fall, and if there was one thing Gangrel had in excess, it was pride. There were so many stupid ways one could die when they over estimated their abilities, ways she had seen firsthand. Ways she could not bear to see again.

“I know that perfectly well.” She relented, struggling to keep her voice level. “And were you simply another solider, I would not think twice about trusting you to your own abilities. But you're not. You are, as you yourself keep reminding me, my fiancée, and hopefully husband once this damnable war is won. If anything ever happened to you, all the light would go out in my life.” She could not stop her voice from catching in her throat then. She had glimpsed that cold, lonely darkness once, before she had ever felt the warm light that came with love. To be deprived of that light now? There was no doubt in her mind that she would simply die of grief.

“Bryn? You're not crying, are you?” The tactician could feel the sting of tears in her eye, and bowed her head so as to spare him the guilt of seeing her so. Of course, Gangrel seemed to have a strange addiction when it came to guilt, so naturally he gripped her chin firmly and forced her to look up at him. At once, his face fell. “Oh, gods, you are! Why am I the only person who ever makes you cry?”

Bryn sniffled slightly, raising a hand to wipe away the moisture that threatened to course down her cheek. “Because you're the only person I love, you fool. You're the only person who means everything to me.” “So all your wretched tears are reserved for me and me alone? I'm flattered.” He intoned dryly. She couldn't help but chuckle slightly. That ever-present scathing wit of his was one of the reasons she loved him so much. Gods, why couldn't he just understand how much she didn't want to lose him? She looked back up at him, committing every detail of him to memory, just as she always did.

“I know I can't control everything, no matter how much I plan. I'm not a god, regardless of what the Grimleal think. There's always a margin of error when humans are involved. No matter how much I love and care, bad things can happen. That's why I need you to care too.” She reached up to where his fingers still brushed her face, gripping his hand in both of hers. For the first time since she learned of it's meaning, she cursed that stupid mark of Grima for not giving her more power. Power to protect him from everything life could throw his way. “Gangrel, promise me you won't leave me... Promise me you'll stay safe.”

For the briefest moment, she thought he might laugh at her and refuse. In her mind, she played back that day when she truly met him, not six months past. It was only at her insistence that Chrom extended  an offer of peace to former king rather than run him through. Bryn had stood right there, not five feet from the men, listening to their exchange, praying the Plegian man would cease his assault and join them. All this despite his insistence that he had never sworn an oath in his life, much less kept one. Technically, he had sworn no oaths since that day, save to love her and make her happy. Didn't he realize that his staying alive was part of that bargain?

However, barely a second must've passed before Gangrel answered her, albeit with a loud, exasperated sigh and accompanied with much eye rolling. “Fine!” He groaned, as if he were answering under much duress. “I don't care if I live or die.”

She knew that. His suicidal past weighed as heavily on her as his murderous one weighed on him. Every time she remembered how very little his life meant to him, it added another layer of fear to the already nuanced love she felt for him. Bryn opened her mouth, ready to argue him down about how she never wanted to hear that again, regardless of how true it may have been, but she was quickly cut off as the man before her (her fiancée, she remembered belatedly) leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. It was almost too quick to be considered a kiss, but it still sent shivers down her spine and caused her heart to flutter almost painfully. As he pulled back, he smirked at her in a way that would've been mocking had she not seen the love and warmth in his eyes.

“So I may as well live and care for you.” He finished, his voice barely above a whisper. Bryn remained silent. It still scared her to know how little he valued his own life, but at least he valued something. It was a start. That she was his reason for living made her all the more determined to keep him safe at all costs. “Is that good enough for you?” She simply wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his chest. If she listened hard enough, she could just barely make out the faint rhythm of his heartbeat.

“It's a start...”

I Caught Fire excerpt pt.2

(Here’s the other part of this Awakening fic I did. I think I’m going to post my unfinished work here so as not to bother readers on ff.net and ao3 with drabbles)

–

“Don’t Leave Me” pt. 2 – He detested the healing tent, for so many reasons. The simplest was that he just couldn’t stand being around other people, especially not the people of the Ylissean League, and a trip to the healing tent meant human interaction was a given. Perhaps on a more complex level (one that he would never admit to anyone willingly) was the fact that medical bays of any sort always reminded him of that tentative transition period after the great war. That time when he had barely been king for a fortnight, when the dead still littered the streets and the sand was red from fresh spilled blood.

While hatred had stewed in his mind and heart, there was no time for revenge. Every temple had been converted into a hospice, but it still wasn’t enough to contain the massive influx of wounded and dying. What could he do other than open the castle up to them, despite the protests of the lords and nobles. What was he supposed to do; let women and children that may as well have been him and his mother, die on the streets? The bourgeois would’ve preferred that, but he had never cared for the opinions of the rich and powerful. That was something Ylissean dogs would do.

The sight of the wounded, with their limbs missing and bones shattered and guts hanging out of them like streamers was never truly wiped from his mind. He’d seen enough of it over the course of two wars- he didn’t need any reason to further humanize these damnable Ylisseans.

Gangrel stood by the edge of the tent, far enough from the cots so as to not be in the way, but close enough that his presence could not go unnoticed. At a glance, it would’ve been easy to assume he was angry, enraged even, the way his jaw clenched as he practically seethed at the woman currently sitting on the only occupied cot. The young woman, her already pale skin an almost sickly gray from blood loss, sat with one arm slightly raised and shaking from the apparent effort of keeping it aloft while the other held her overly large shirt up over her stomach while still covering her breasts (Bryn, like most Plegian women, did not take kindly to wearing small clothes).

A younger, very petite blonde girl donning the attire of a War Cleric was wrapping a tourniquet around her midsection. It was obvious the girl (who’s name was Liz or something) wanted to say something to her patient, but every time she opened her mouth, she froze, before casting a furtive, almost frightened glance toward the man looming over them in the background. Gangrel met every timid glance in his direction with a death glare. He had been silent the whole time, but the look on his face spoke volumes. Eyes forward, girl, before I take them away from you. He didn’t need the silly little chit looking at him when she had a job to do. Finally (he was beginning to suspect the blonde princess wasn’t exactly good at her duties), Lissa tied the bandages in place, getting to her knees as she brushed off her hands.

“There. All patched up.” Her patient smiled up at her, obviously weary, but sincerely grateful. “Thank you, Lissa. You’re a lifesaver.” “Yeah, well, I can be a life taker too, so you’d better actually rest this time if you know what’s good for you.” Bryn rolled her visible eye. “Yes, mother.”

As the cleric left (finally), Gangrel walked over until he occupied the spot she had just vacated, saying nothing as he watched the other woman gingerly lower her shirt, wincing slightly. Heaving a deep sigh,  she slumped forward a bit, clearly exhausted.

“Well?” She prompted, not bothering to look up at him. “Go ahead. I know you’re just dying to lay into me.” For a second, he thought of holding back, leaving her to rest in peace… of course, the former Plegian king had the impulse control of a child, and a second was as long as he could restrain himself.

“How could you do something so positively stupid?! You’re supposed to be a master tactician, someone  who’s smarter than the rest of us idiots!” “What I did was tactically sound–” she tried to interrupt him, but he wasn’t having any of it. “Does it look like I’m finished? No! Now let me talk!”

“…I’m listening.” The way she looked up at him, guileless and enraptured despite the exhaustion and pallor of her face, took all the wind from his sails. He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He had allowed his anger to fade, and that was his mistake. Anger was easy. Anger was comfortable. The emotions swirling inside him now were new and confusing and they terrified him. Fear, misery, guilt, concern and, yes, a bit of anger, but for all the wrong reasons. Reasons he wasn’t used to. Everything within him now was born of love, love for the stupid, reckless woman sitting in front of him. It made everything he felt more intense, to the point of physical illness. He wasn’t used to caring about anyone, and to suddenly have someone thrust in his life he cared for so much… it was like drowning.

He reached out, brushing the backs of his fingers against the curve of her cheek. She was so soft, but so cold. Not as cold as she had been on the battlefield, but close. “Why did you put yourself in danger like that?” he asked in a tortured whisper. “Trying to beat me to the grave?” To anyone else, he’d have meant that as a joke, albeit a rather morbid one, but with Bryn, it was simply a grim reminder that every second he had with her was precious. That there was no guarantee they would have much more time together. The ever looming threat of Grima already gave him nightmares, he didn’t need the added horror of watching her fall on the field of some inconsequential skirmish.

For a long time, Bryn was silent, but it seemed to be more from the toll her wounds were taking on her than any kind of hesitance. Finally, she spoke up, her voice weak and tired, only emphasizing her words.  “Just trying to keep you safe. You’re lucky I was there; if I hadn’t pushed you out of the way, that berserker would’ve cleaved you in twain.”

The truth of her words left a sour taste in his mouth….

He had been so caught up in picking off the undead archers and tricksters that surrounded them that he hadn’t even noticed the silvery glint of the ax that nearly bisected him until Bryn shoved him hard to the side. He’d hit the ground at an awkward angle, twisting his wrist painfully as he instinctively tried to catch himself, but he hadn’t noticed any of that until much later. At the moment, all he could focus on was the woman standing between him and the Fell servant that nearly killed him. That blow, meant for him, only grazed the young tactician, but the razor’s edge of the blade still sliced effortlessly through what flesh it met.

She wasn’t wearing her usual breastplate (it was only a skirmish! The Risen they faced weren’t even that strong!), and her thin clothes offered less than no protection. Everything seemed to slow down as Gangrel watched the bright red arc of blood that followed the path of the ax fall to the ground. It seemed to take Bryn a moment to even realize she’d been struck, but he needed less time than that to get back to his feet. As he held his ever present Levin sword aloft, he could feel his blind rage mixing with and strengthening his magic. The air around them burned and cracked loudly as a bolt of lightning emanated from the sword into the shambling bag of rotting bones and flesh that was the Risen. It could not even howl in agony as it exploded into a (unsatisfying) cloud of acrid purple smoke. Gangrel was sure he would’ve gone on a massacre, probably hunting down Risen and ally alike if only to quell the rage burning within him, had there not been a strained whimper behind him.

He turned, all the anger and hate within him doused by fear as he watched his betrothed clutch at the wound that gaped across her belly, trying to stem the flow of blood that had already dyed most of her shirt and trousers. He dropped his sword at once, not caring that they were still in the midst of a battle, rushing to her side before she fell and injured herself more. It was just a flesh wound, but it bled so much, and she was so pale and cold… How could he have let such a thing happen? He was supposed to protect her, and he had been doing such a good job of it too… Of course, things like this always happened, though usually with less disastrous results. No matter how hard he fought to keep her safe, Bryn always had to jump in and take blows meant for him. More often than not she just deflected them expertly, but the fact remained that this was getting to be a habit…

“I was doing just fine, thank you. Maybe if I didn’t always have to worry about you getting yourself hurt, I could pay more attention to what was going on around me.” The young tactician gaped at him in disbelief. “Oh my gods…. Are you actually trying to blame me for this? I save your life, and you’re trying to blame me for getting hurt?” “Damn it, Bryn, I don’t need you saving my life! I’m supposed to protect you! There’s only one person here who’s life matters, and it sure as hell isn’t me.” That look she fixed him with, that sad, disapproving look, made it feel as if there was a chunk of ice in his throat, choking him.

“…Don’t say that, Gangrel. Please don’t. You know I hate it when you talk like that…” How dare she guilt trip him when he was in the right? It was a disgrace… but it worked. It wasn’t fair- wasn’t he guilty of enough things, things much less noble than loving someone who mattered more than him? Gritting his teeth, he ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair.

“It’s the truth.” He seethed. “You know it’s the truth as well as I do. You are all I have to live for, Bryn. I am nothing without you. If anything were ever to happen to you, let alone because I couldn’t protect you or save you…” He simply trailed off. He knew what he wanted to say, and she undoubtedly did too, but he simply couldn’t put it into words. Not out of fear of making it real, but because there were just no words to describe how lost he would be without her. She had shown him a glimpse of what real life was like for the first time since he was a child. Death would not be enough to stop the pain of losing her.                                

Bryn remained quiet for a long moment, before reaching out and taking one of his hands into her much smaller ones. Those delicate looking hands were rough and calloused, the fingertips like sheets of ice against his skin. She cradled his hand against her chest, right over her heart.

“I know, Gangrel. You think I don’t know? I live with that dark cloud hanging over me constantly. That all consuming fear that the person you love won’t be there tomorrow…. That you’ll be all alone and miserable again, and what’s the point of even living like that?” He was more than a little surprised to hear her talk like that, given how much she believed in preserving life. She looked up at him, her face a mask of misery.

“I feel exactly the same as you. So how can you not understand why I have to keep you safe?” So many reasons bubbled to the surface of his mind that it took a moment to untangle them all. The main reason was because it was simply too difficult to wrap his mind around the fact that somebody cared about him.  Not because of what he could do for them (or to them), but because of who he was as a person. A lifetime of evidence to the contrary made that hard to believe, but here was the proof, that this woman was willing to throw her life away for him. Of course, he couldn’t tell Bryn all of that- despite her best wishes, he tried to keep his thoughts and feelings hidden from her. Bad enough that Emmeryn had seen him at  one of his lowest points, Gangrel would rather blast himself in the face with an Arcfire tome than let Bryn witness him having a breakdown. She was still waiting for an answer, though (the tactician did not appreciate rhetoric), so he had to tell her something.

“Because I’m the one who’s supposed to be protecting you! I don’t need to hide behind your skirt, I need to keep you safe.” “But why can’t we keep each other safe?” “Because I’m the man!” He raged, instantly regretting how loud his voice had gotten. The last thing they needed was Chrom running into the tent, Falchion drawn and looking for any excuse to cleave him in half. Gangrel lowered his voice, but still seethed with frustration. “I’m the man, and the man is supposed to keep his woman safe. …what else am I good for?” There was the crux of the problem, it seemed. It was impossible not to feel useless around Bryn- she was just good at so many things (well, not cooking, but she was even working on improving that). She wasn’t the one who needed him, he needed her- he’d told her as much when he proposed. Their relationship was entirely one-sided. And now, she even fought his battles for him… how long would it take for her to realize he was simply a drain on her and walk away?

She was looking up at him, with that same horrible, sympathetic look Emmeryn seemed to have reserved for him alone. Somehow, Bryn’s single eye seemed to concentrate the pity, making it even worse.

“Stop staring at me like that!” he hissed, resisting the urge to cover his eyes. It wouldn’t do any good- he could feel that stare, boring into his soul. “Oh, Gangrel…” she even shook her head sympathetically… which made her next words all the more bemusing. “If I sculpted a man out of Pegasus dung, he couldn’t be as full of Pegasus dung as you are.” “…what?!” She frowned up at him, her furrowed brow and pursed lips looking no less intimidating against her pallid complexion.

“What else are you good for? How about making me happy? How about keeping me sane? How about giving me a reason to keep moving forward when every fiber of my being is screaming at me to give up? Or is that not good enough for you? Would you be happy if I were some weak little noble lady who swooned at the first sign of danger?”

For some reason, a vivid image of Maribelle, with her shrill, grating voice and revolting little parasol popped into his mind. The look on his face was all the answer she needed. Sighing deeply, Bryn lifted her legs onto the cot and gingerly laid down, her face tight with pain. She was silent, but obviously fighting back whimpers, evident by her hands clenched tightly in the sheets. Scarcely thinking about it, the former king reached out and took her hand into his own, squeezing it gently to let her know she could squeeze back. She did as she finally stretched out and, were he a lesser man (like Chrom), he probably would’ve cried out in pain himself. She had a really strong grip.

She turned her head slightly to look at him once more. “I’ve been fighting on the front lines all this time, and I have no intention of stopping until there is no more fighting left to be done.” “What if I tell you to stop? I’m your husband, what if I tell you you can’t fight anymore.” Bryn smiled widely at this, a glint of humor in her dark eye.

“First of all, you’re not my husband, you’re my fiancée because someone doesn’t want to get married by a priest of Naga-” “It’s not because he’s a priest of Naga, it’s because the marriage will be null once we get back to Plegia, and also because fuck Ylisseans and their weird wedding traditions.” Gangrel had already made it quite clear time and again how he felt about getting married amongst the Shepherds. Brides wearing white? No feast? Fuck that noise. The paler woman chuckled softly.

“Well then, until we get to Plegia, you can’t order me to do anything, and even once we’re there, you still can’t order me to do anything because I outrank you- you’re just a foot soldier now, remember?” Dammit, why did he ever say that aloud? But Bryn still wasn’t finished. “And even once we’re married and you’re king again, you still can’t order me to do anything.” “Why the blazing hells not?!” It wasn’t as if he had any intention of ordering her around. He wasn’t one of those pathetic excuses for men who felt like a big shot because they treated women poorly- he could pick on someone his own size, thank you. But he would think that when he was a proper king again that she might hold a little more respect for him, at least… She simply smiled benignly at him.

“Because I’m stronger than you, Gangrel. I can beat you in combat without even breaking a sweat.” “That was a one-time occurrence!” he seethed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. How could she bring that up now? “All three times? You shouldn’t feel bad, dear- I’m stronger than most of the men in this army. Hells, most of the girls are. We just have a more useful skill set.” “… if you’re still trying to make me feel better about being completely worthless, congratulations; you’ve failed miserably.”

“What I’m trying to do is tell you that I don’t need you putting yourself in harm’s way to keep me safe.” For the briefest moment, the wind was taken out of his sails, but he recovered quickly. Or tried to. “I’m not you, I don’t–” “What, do you think I don’t notice all the times you’ve taken blows meant for me? I have one eye, I’m not blind. Hells, you’ve been doing it longer than I have, I’m ashamed to say.  I probably would’ve been killed a while back if not for you, and while I know I should be grateful- and I am, Gangrel, I truly am- it makes me sick to my stomach to see you get hurt in my place. Especially when I should be smart enough not to get caught unawares in the first place.”

She reached out, lightly brushing the backs of her fingers across his side, tracing the faint remains of one of the first scars he’d gotten since joining the Shepherds. It had been a skirmish, much like the one today, the only real difference being that back then, he could barely stomach the annoyingly cheerful tactician who always hounded him. He could’ve easily let that Risen spear her like a fish- he held no affection for her and it would’ve served her right for not paying attention. But he couldn’t. For some reason that eluded him to this day, he had thrown himself in front of her, taking the blow and loosing a decent amount of blood in the process. But honestly, he hadn’t regretted it, even back then. Now, he was thankful for that knee jerk reaction.

Pulling her hand away from his side, Gangrel laced his fingers with Bryn’s. He could just see the glint of her engagement ring (he’d buy her a much nicer one when they went back to Plegia). “If a few more scars is the price to keep you by my side, then I’m happy to pay it.” “I feel exactly the same way.” Bryn said stubbornly. His sentimental mood was crushed with a wave of annoyance and frustration.” “That is so fucking stupid!” “You’re stupid!” For a long time, they glared at one another, daring the other to back down first. Of course, stubbornness and a refusal to admit when they were wrong were two of the things they had in common.

“We are a terrible couple.” He said finally, sitting on the cot beside her.” “We’re probably going to kill each other one of these days.” Bryn agreed, curling around him. “I’d rather you kill me than some Risen’s stray arrow.” “I don’t want you to die in a random skirmish, either. Or ever, from anything.” She sighed deeply. Closing her eye. Her weariness seemed to finally be taking it’s toll on her. “Look, I promise to stay safe if you’ll do the same.” “What?” He was completely thrown for a loop by that seemingly random request.

“What I was saying before before I got derailed, thank you very much, was that I have no intention taking myself off the front lines. And I have a feeling that you won’t stop fighting either.” “Not until you stop or I get the grisly end I was promised.” Bryn opened her eye and glared daggers at him. “Neither of those things is happening. Which is my point. We spend more time fighting each other’s battle’s than paying attention to what’s in front of us. So let’s just try to keep our eyes on our respective part of the battlefield, at least a little more than we do now.” “…you only have one eye, Bryn. You can’t even see the whole battlefield.” “I compensate for that!” She snapped at him. “Stop trying to make excuses to die before me, dammit! I want to grow old together.” Gangrel laughed wryly.

“I never think about getting old.” It was mostly because he never expected to live as long as he had. “Well, you need to start. Didn’t you promise me you’d love me even when I was an old crone?” “Of course I will.” He said truthfully, leaning down to press his lips against her cheek. He’d love her till the day he died, however soon that might be. “I’ll love you no matter how old and gross you are. But I never said anything about me getting old.” A small, but surprisingly strong hand wrapped around his throat.

“Excuse me?” “What? I’m just saying, women get ravaged by age more than men.” “Says the man who already has crow’s feet and frown lines deeper than Wyvern Valley.” “You swore you’d stop making that comparison!” “Then stop making weird faces like that- it creeps me out.” As they continued arguing, any promise of staying safe was long forgotten. It didn’t matter though; it was unspoken, but very clear neither had any intention of letting the other die before them.

We Both Start Over (Gunther/Nerr drabbles)

So, I started doing one if those 100 themes challenges, but I never finish things like this, so I’ll be uploading the ones I did here, and if peoploe like them, maybe I’ll post them to my fanfic accounts. They’re all set in my Fates fic universe. TBH, I just wanted to write Gunther and Nerr with no silly plot to get in the way. 0000

“Nonsense” – It was a relatively calm day in the Nohrian camp. Yes, they were marching towards the capital to engage their age old enemy, the Hoshidans, and yes, there was always the threat of an enemy ambush, but in that singular moment, everything seemed perfectly normal. The sun was shining brightly over the brilliant azure sky and fluffy white clouds. The balmy weather made the miserable cold of Nohrian winters seem a hazy dream. It was not at all a wise thing to do, but for that day, for that moment, Gunther allowed himself to forget he was a soldier marching towards destruction. The embittered, jaded part of his mind warned him to not get complacent, for tragedy could strike at any moment, but it was easy enough to ignore thoughts like that as he lay on the pallet he shared with his newly betrothed. His lance was sharpened, his armor oiled and buffed, and he had taken to oiling Nerr’s as well, for she would certainly be in no mood to do it herself after the war council. Prince Xander had been insisting there be more held by the day, and the young princess darkly said at one point he was doing it solely out of spite for her. Gunther shut his eyes and shook his head. There would be time for thinking of spite later. At the moment, everything was perfect, and peaceful, and–

“Move over!!” The old knight barely had time to open his eyes before he was unceremoniously pushed aside. The pallet was not very large, and he had already been skirting the edge before the force of the shove sent him sprawling onto the hard packed dirt floor. Granted, it was not a long fall, but long enough to injure his pride. Fully roused from his contented state, he glared at the lump now encased in the blankets he had been laying on. “Nerr! What the ever loving hell is your problem?!” “Shut up, I’m hiding!” She hissed, her voice muffled by the blankets, though he could still hear a note of genuine fear therein. His violet eyes softened slightly.

“Hiding from what?” Silence was his answer, and Gunther reached out, slowly pulling the covers back just enough to reveal wide crimson eyes, darting to and fro in a panic. “Nerr? What is it, my love? What’s happened?” Her gaze stopped on him, pupils dilated fully. “Leo’s going to fucking kill me!” “Why? What’s happened?” At once, Nerr threw the covers from her, sitting on her knees, and began gesticulating wildly.

“When I cast the spell, I didn’t know the rabbit was still alive until I put it in the tomatoes, and now there’s fire EVERYWHERE…!!! How was I supposed to know he was using it as a toilet!?” Gunther watched his young fiancée try to catch her breath with a blank expression. So many questions ran through his mind that it simply… shut down in a last ditch effort to save his sanity. Quietly, he got to his feet, reaching down and taking Nerr by the arm, his grip gentle but firm. She seemed bemused by his actions, until he began dragging her to the entrance of the tent, at which point, she began struggling.

“H-hey! What are you doing?! No!” He paid her writhing no mind, opening the tent flap and pushing her outside, back into the sunshine. “I’m not dealing with this today, Nerr. I don’t care what insanity you’ve gotten yourself into- come back when you’ve straightened it all out.” “B-but–!” “No.” With one last, firm admonishment, he let the flap fall shut once more, sinking the interior of the tent back into relative darkness. With a sigh, Gunther headed back to the palet, straighted the blankets, and laid back down. Distantly, he could hear screams, and there was a faint whiff of smoke in the air, but it hardly bothered him. Nerr, Jakob and Felicia could handle fires just fine on their own. As a sense of calm began to overtake him once more, a jarring thought snapped him from his revere.

“Wait… was he using the rabbit as a toilet, or the tomatoes…?” So much for peace… 000000000000

The Road Not Trekked (excerpt)

Fuck yeah, I'm shameless. Here's the first chapter of the prologue if my two branch, 40+ chapter Fates rewrite. If you don't hate it, then make my day by checking me out on ff.net and ao3 (just your friendly, neighborhood SilverShadow1711)

(also, this is my first time trying to use html on the tumblr app cuz I'm on my phone and I can't seem to code it in the browser, so sorry if it doesn't actually code...)

Prologue- “Where It All Begins”

“Where has my heart gone? An uneven trade for the real world...”

000000000000

Ch.1- “Family Ties”

000000000000

Autumn was quickly settling over the kingdom of Nohr, but it was known by all that the chilling winds where but a brief warning of the freezing weather that would soon follow. Farmers were busy harvesting their crops, whilst all others were making preparations for the winter season. But that was life far outside the boundaries of the Northern Citadel. In the fortress, routines rarely changed in relation to the passing seasons. And the most strictly followed routine was that of training.

Training was over for the day (the sun set so quickly in the colder months one had to be up before it even rose to make the most of the daylight hours), a fact for which Nerr was eternally grateful. Despite the cold, she was drenched in sweat and though she had felt overheated in the midst of her mock battle, the chilled air had quickly set her freezing. A fact only emphasized by her bare feet, which were fast turning an unflattering shade of purple. Even as she made her way in from the courtyard, she dashed across the worn marble tiles on tip toe, trying to let as little bare flesh make contact with the cold floor as possible. It always baffled her friends and family why she didn't just wear shoes, even in the dead of winter. The answer was simple- she didn't like them. They were uncomfortable and restricting- like stays, but for your feet. Besides, it wasn't like shoes did much more to keep out the cold.

It was slow going, running up the stairs on her bare, frozen feet, her armor clanking with every step and every muscle sore and screaming for rest, but Nerr pushed aside her discomfort and persevered, for she knew the reward that lay in wait for her at the top of the tower she called home. And as she finally made her way to the last landing, one of the doors opened as if on cue, a vision of sheer loveliness in Nerr's eyes emerging from it. It was a young maid, about the same age that she was, her icy blue hair tied in neat pigtails. And as the maid spotted the frozen girl, she smiled slightly.

“There you are, Lady Nerr. You must be exhausted. I've prepared a bath for you.” Nerr laughed in delight, rushing forward and throwing her arms around the maid. She knew it wasn't the most thoughtful thing to do, what with her sweaty, disgusting armor and all, but she was too happy to care.

“Oh, Flora, you are my savior. You are a gift from the gods themselves, and I thank them every day for you!” The maid flushed slightly and looked away, clearly not comfortable with the praises lauded upon her.

“Oh, not at all, Lady Nerr. I'm just doing my--”

By that time, Flora's audience had long since run into the room she'd just vacated. A loud clanking and several colorful swears could be heard from it's depths. Smiling and shaking her head in good natured exasperation, Flora went back into the room to find her ladyship engaged in a vicious battle with her own armor, pulling at the straps in an attempt to undo them. Were it anyone else, Flora would've been disgusted with their gross incompetence, but she could see the other girl's fingers were stiff from cold, and her armor was rather complicated.

“Here, milady. Allow me to do that.” Obviously relieved to have someone who knew what they were doing take over, Nerr smiled gratefully and tried to keep from trembling too much as her maid quickly dismantled her armor. There was a rather large tub in the center of the room, filled nearly to the brim with hot water. As the warm steam wafted over her, it carried the scent of jasmine. Nerr had only seen the purple flowers in books, but knew that they grew in the southern regions of Nohr, where the climate was warmer. For so long she'd dreamed of seeing them, not just smelling them in her bath water or on her clothes, or the dried, dead petals that came in sachets, but real, living flowers. Now, finally, that dream was withing shouting distance.

As Flora pulled off the last piece of her armor, Nerr quickly stripped her clothes off. She'd have tried to fold them normally, making such a mess of things that the maid would eventually beg her to just leave them alone, but she was quickly loosing the feeling in her toes. With as much restraint as she could manage (which was not much, given that she was almost completely numb in her extremities), she climbed into the bath, letting out a mixed cry of pain and relief as the hot water engulfed her. The heat was almost too much to bear on her frozen skin, and it felt like she had sat in a thousand needles, but she needed it. Eventually, the pain ebbed away, leaving only the relaxing pleasure that coursed through her body. Sighing, she leaned against the chilled tiles, goosebumps rising up along her arms. Flora had just finished organizing the various plates of her armor, and walked over to the tub, carrying a few glass bottles filled with different colored liquids.

“Your training must've been grueling today, milady. You look fit to collapse.” Nerr chuckled slightly, remembering her training. All in all, it had consisted of basic drills. The only thing that really made it difficult was the cold.

“It was fairly standard. But I'll tell you, Flora, after that hellish endurance training last week, I'm just happy to do something I can sleep at the end of.”

An unsuppressed shudder went through Nerr as she remembered the 'endurance training'. It was something all prospective Nohrian knights had to go through before they were actually knighted, at least five days of non-stop, grueling training with only the bare minimum food and sleep. It was meant to simulate actual battle conditions in the field, and very few squires actually made it through. She had heard from Leo that people sometimes died in the middle of it. Nerr hadn't believed that at first, but after five days of no food, no sleep and pushing her body beyond it's limit, she had literally begged for death herself. Or so Jakob told her- she honestly didn't remember anything of that last day.

“I had almost forgotten about that. You were unconscious for two days afterwards. Should you really be training again so soon?” Nerr tilted her head back to look at Flora. Even upside down, she looked concerned.

“I have to.” She answered simply. “Now that I'm of age, I have to prove to Father that I'm fit to join our armies on the battlefield. It's bad enough I have to be quarantined here just because of a little trauma a hundred years ago- if I can't shake off one tiny coma, I'll never be allowed outside!”

She tilted her head further back, dipping her hair into the water, warming her scalp and wishing she could just duck her whole face under for a minute or two. But as she watched Flora uncork the bottles, she knew her self indulgence would have to wait a while longer.

“I know that, Lady Nerr. And I know how much this opportunity means to you. I'm just worried that you might be pushing yourself too hard.” Nerr could not help but smile as she sat up again, the warm water cascading over her. The maid behind her made quick work of untying her hair and undoing the braids she wore in it. It was hard to remember a time when Flora hadn't been there to do that for her. It was hard to remember a lot of things that happened before, but she had a feeling that was more because she didn't want to remember than anything. Nerr only let her focus stay on the good things.

“I know, Flora. I'm so grateful to have you looking out for me. But really, you don't have to worry. I feel fine. Better than fine, I'm on top of the world! Training was a piece of cake.”

“Still, it seems unfair that you would have to train on your birthday.” Nerr tried to look over her should once more, but Flora set her looking straight ahead as she began pouring the contents of one of the bottles on her lady's head. She cringed at the cold that now seemed to creep down her spine, but quickly refocused her thoughts.

“I don't see why. You're from the Ice tribe, and they're all about having strong warriors. Didn't you have to train on your birthday?” She couldn't see it, but the maid was scowling deeply. She wasn't wrong, and had anyone else said such a thing, Flora undoubtedly would have been very upset with them, but it was clear to anyone who knew her that the Nohrian princess did not mean anything cruel with her words. She never strove to be unkind, and she truly was ignorant in the ways of the world outside the boundary of the citadel, so Flora quickly bit back her anger.

“I did train on my birthday, and that is precisely why I say it is unfair.”

Rolling her sleeves up, she began working a lather into her ladyship's hair, perhaps a touch more forcefully than she normally would've done.

“But I got to see my family today. And not just one or two of them. Everyone came out to wish me a happy birthday, and they all stayed until noon, so how can I complain about a little training? I say it's a small price to pay.”

Maybe there were other people who wouldn't think two whole hours spent with their family was a big deal, but to Nerr, those people were crazy. The citadel she was the liege-lord of was two hours from the main castle on horseback, and her sibling were all very busy with their own duties. As such, she cherished every moment she could spend with them. Visits were few and far between, and rarely lasted an hour, so for all of her siblings to schedule so much time for her was indeed the most touching gift they could ever give her. Flora smiled softly as she continued lathering.

“I'm sure it warms your family's hearts to know you think so dearly of them...”

After her hair and back were washed, Nerr quickly fished in the bath. She would've enjoyed staying in the warm water a while longer, but alas, the water was quickly cooling. Hot things did not stay that way for long in the drafty fortress, despite everyone's best attempts to close all the holes and cracks. Nerr wondered if it was warmer in the main castle. It probably was- that was where the king and royal family lived, after all. It wouldn't do for the crown prince to catch his death from a chill. She looked forward to the day she and her retainers and household could move in as well, to be nearer to her family, and the rest of the world in general. Flora helped her into her nightgown and braided her hair for her the way she always wore it to sleep. For the first time, the thought struck her that, if she truly did join the Nohrian army, chances were she would not be able to bring Flora along. That wouldn't be fair to all the soldiers that weren't royalty. She needed to ask the maid how to braid her own her before she went anywhere.

The excitement and physical exhaustion of the day was beginning to catch up to her. Flora, in her infinite kindness, offered to escort Nerr back to her room, though they both knew it was more because the princess was in the habit of falling asleep wherever she got tired, and it would do no one any good if she caught a draft sleeping on the floor. The thought of crawling into bed and pulling her comforters over herself was almost as happy as that of her siblings. She had been suppressing a yawn as she opened the door to her room and once she walked in, it was difficult to tell if she had opened her eyes or not. The room was completely dark. Normally, such things didn't bother Nerr- she often found she could see in the dark just as well as in the light, but she was too tired to make sense of what she was looking at.

“Flora, why's it so dark in here?”

“Oh dear, I must've forgotten to light the torches. Don't worry, I'll get a light.”

She pulled Nerr into the doorway and stepped away. The darkness was so soothing, it was tempting to just lean against the door frame and go to sleep. The young princess was seriously contemplating that thought when a faint light appeared in the dark. Several, actually, all crowded close together. It was the warm, flickering light of candles, in the center of her room. And illuminated in the dim glow were the faces of her retainers and servants, smiling up at her. A cake lay on the table in front of them. Taken aback, Nerr slowly approached them, making sure to keep her breathing steady. It did not do for a princess of Nohr to go to pieces at the slightest provocation.

“What's this?” She asked, knowing the answer, but still curious if it wasn't something different.

“It's a birthday celebration.” Jakob answered primly.

“You guys know you don't have to do this. My birthday is nothing special.”

“We respectfully disagree, my lady.” Gunther interjected. “This is the day the gods gave you to us. That is something very special indeed.” Felicia nodded energetically, her long hair bouncing about.

“Yeah! Not to mention today, you're officially an adult. We gotta celebrate that!” Lilith, the newest member of her household, smiled up at her shyly.

“You mean so much to us, Lady Nerr. This is the least we can do to show you.”

Nerr felt her throat tighten as she look at the illuminated faces. She swallowed the happy tears that threatened to overtake her (a princess must always be in control of their emotions), and beamed back at them.

“Thank you all. This means so much to me....”

“Well, don't just stand there getting emotional,” Flora teased. “Make a wish.”

She looked down at the candles, their tiny, fragile light reminding her of the stars she often looked up at, especially on cold, clear nights like this.They said if you saw a falling star, you could make a wish, but she had never been that lucky. She wished she could've seen at least one before, for now, there were so many wishes she wanted to make. She wanted to finally leave the citadel, she wanted her father to finally be proud of her... she wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by the person she loved... But as the memory of this perfect, happy day filled her chest, all of those other wishes fell away, replaced by something that mattered much, much more. Leaning down, she took a deep breath. 'Gods... please don't take this happiness away...'As she blew out the candles with as much force as she could, the room was once more thrown into darkness.

“Oh. That... wasn't smart...” There was a throaty chuckle from across the table.

“I'll put the lights back on, my lady.”

000

Nerr had smiled consistently throughout late birthday celebration. It was a strange feeling, to sit and eat with so many other people. Although there was a dining room in the citadel somewhere, she always took her meals in her room, and she assumed her retainers did the same. There weren't enough chairs for everyone, so Felicia, Lilith and (with some coaxing) Flora crowded together with her on her bed.

The cake was apple spice kugelhopf, since apparently there had been a decent crop of apples that year (though she was fairly certain she had overheard Xander mention something about the wheat crop failing). The princess delighted in the fact that she had been born in the midst of the harvest season when fruit abounded. Not that it benefited anyone else since, as Leo, and Gunther, and occasionally Jakob bemoaned, she ate all the damn fruit before anyone else had a chance to. They had to hide a secret stash just for this occasion.

“That was clever. I mean, it's also sneaky and insulting and disloyal, but very clever.” Jakob sat a little straighter in his seat, unable to keep the smile completely off his face.

“Thank you, Lady Nerr. It was my idea. The cake was also my work.”

“Hey!” From beside her- as in, right in her ear- Felicia protested loudly. “I helped too!” At once, Jakob's smile slid from his face, replaced with a deep frown.

“If by 'helped' you mean 'almost completely ruined everything', then yes. You 'helped' a lot.” Felicia gasped, affronted. It seemed that this disagreement was about to turn into a full-on screaming match. Lilith edged away from the young maid as the temperature around her began dropping. Nerr desperately wished she could do the same, but she was unfortunately sandwiched between Felicia and her sister. Sighing loudly, Gunther rolled his eyes skywards.

“For the gods' sake, can you two not bicker for one day? Is that truly too much to ask? Normally I'd tell you to go outside and settle your silly argument with combat, but I wouldn't want Lady Nerr's birthday further ruined with one of you losing an eye.” Jakob and Felicia awkwardly looked to the floor, shame-faced. Nerr felt her heart go out to both of them, and she smiled gently.

“Aw, they're not ruining anything, Gunther. I'm used to them arguing. We all are, I think. I, for one, can't imagine not waking up in the ungodly hours of the morning to the sounds of crashing and yelling.” Badly suppressed giggles came from either side of her, and both domestics looked up, clearly relieved they hadn't ruined her birthday. Besides, she added silently to herself, families fight. They argue and make up and go back to being families.

It was fun and surprisingly relaxing to share a meal with others, to talk and laugh. Sometimes she would read about families sitting down to dinner together. She wondered if her siblings ate like this, with father at the head of the table, discussing their lessons or training... It was a nice thought. She truly hoped they did and that when she could finally join them in the castle, that she could take part as well. But even if that was just a dream that could never come true, she was happy with this family.

It was quite late when the conversation finally began tapering off. Though Nerr was loathe to admit it, her exhaustion was catching up to her. Perhaps noticing her drooping eyelids, the servants quickly remembered the chores left to them before they could turn in for the night. Lilith had to feed the horses, Flora and Jakob had to tidy the kitchen, and Felicia... had to try not to break any more plates. They all excused themselves, wishing their liege a happy birthday one last time as they took their leave. Nerr was in the middle of contemplating the practicality of replacing all the citadel's ceramic dishes with metal ones to avoid another Felicia disaster when she suddenly realized there was still one member of her makeshift family in the room with her.

“Gunther. What are you still doing here? I thought you left with the others.” The older man bowed his head.

“My apologies, my lady. I'll be but a moment and then leave you to your peace.” Nerr frowned a bit. That didn't sound at all like Gunther. Normally, her retainer was the one telling her to stop dawdling and get a move on.

“Is something wrong?” She asked quietly. She prayed there wasn't. The thought of something being wrong with her oldest, dearest companion made her stomach clench painfully in fear. Noticing her concern, the old knight laughed softly.

“No. There's nothing wrong, my lady. Just the passage of time...”

“What do you mean?” He sighed, softly but she still caught it.

“It just seems impossible to me that fifteen years could have passed so quickly. I still remember when you were a little girl, begging me to pick you up and carry you about on my shoulders...” Nerr felt the heat rise in her cheeks at the memory. It was hazy, but it was there.

“Don't remind me of those things, Gunther. It's embarrassing. I'm not a child anymore.”

“I know.” His voice was quiet, as if he were speaking more to himself than to her. “I know that better than anyone. It's just so hard to believe that that playful little girl grew up into the strong, beautiful woman that sits before me now.” Her cheeks burned hotter, but pleasantly so this time. She could not help but smile a bit as she asked, somewhat shyly,

“You think I'm beautiful?” Perhaps a younger man would've been flustered, but Gunther possessed a nonchalance that could only come with age.

“I doubt there is a soul in this kingdom that does not.”

It was a non-answer, but Nerr was still flattered. The older man got to his feet and approached her, stopping a respectful distance from her bed.

“I'm sure Jakob would kill me in my sleep if he knew about this, but... I have a gift for you.” Despite her insistence that she was an adult, the princess could not contain the childish burst of excitement she felt at those words. Perhaps because it had been so long since she last heard them. When she was younger, back when Gunther still left the fortress to go on patrols with the rest of the active duty knights, he would always bring her presents from the town in the capital. Sweets and toys and books... it was not so much the presents themselves that she adored (though she truly did, and kept every one of those treasures squirreled away somewhere safe), but rather, what they represented. The world beyond the confines of her cage, places she could only dream of going.

As she got older, the gifts became less frequent until they stopped all together. She never questioned it, of course- that would come across as horribly selfish and entitled, and besides, she had probably just outgrown that little tradition just as she had outgrown everything else that served as a happy reprieve. Now, her heart leapt as she jumped to her feet, bouncing on her toes in joyful anticipation.

“Ooh, what is it? What is it?” Reaching into the pouch he wore on his sword belt, Gunther pulled out a small, plain wooden box. It was unwrapped, but his presents always were. Biting back a squeal of excitement, she reached out as calmly as she could, using all her restraint to not snatch the box from his hand- that would be a terrible show of decorum.

“Can I open it?” She asked hopefully. It seemed unlikely it was something that needed to be opened in private, but one could never be too sure. He smiled at her, that hybrid amused-slash-exasperated smile that was always accompanied with a shake of the head.

“That's why I gave it to you.” The box was hinged, and there was a small latch that she quickly undid, opening it. It was lined just as simply with dark cloth, and there in the middle was a rather large butterfly. Not a live creature, or even a dead one to be put on display, but a broach or something of that sort. It was sculpted of beautifully polished brass, it's body and the details of it's wings inlaid with some black stone- jet, she assumed.

“It's a hairpin.” He explained, silently gauging her reaction. “I know my lady rarely has use for such frivolities, but when I saw it, I could not help but think of you.” She looked up at him, confused. “Butterflies symbolize change, and I've given it to you filled with the hope that your life will change only for the better.”

Silently, Nerr looked back down at her gift. It glinted dully as it caught the light of the torches on her walls. Slowly, her smile had been fading, and now, she simply looked impassive. Though it did not show on his face, Gunther was surely apprehensive of his mistress's sudden change in demeanor. It could've been for any number of reasons; perhaps she thought him too forward, perhaps she felt such a thing was beneath her...That certainly seemed likely, so he spoke up once more, with a bit less enthusiasm than before, though...

“Of course, I understand that a cheap trinket is far beneath royalty. A princess deserves gold and jewels, but... I fear a soldier's salary is not so exorbitant--!!” He started as he felt her arms wrap around his waist. Sometime in the midst of his humiliating defense, she had set the box down on her bed and approached him, drawing him into a hug. That he didn't notice her until it was too late... it seemed his reflexes were going to seed...

For Nerr, this was another one of those happy things that she no longer had. As a child, Gunther had indulged her desire for hugs and affection freely, but one day, with no warning, he'd pulled away from her embrace and chided her. She was no longer a child, such behavior was unacceptable from a young lady, et cetera, et cetera. It seemed that from that day, a lonely, empty space had been born inside her. Of course, Elise and Camilla still freely gave hugs (it seemed that only hugging the opposite sex was bad, because hugging Jakob one day had resulted in a harsh scolding for both of them), and it wasn't as if anyone was cold to her, but still... The lesson she had taken away from that new rule was that being a mature, responsible adult meant giving up one's happiness. And though it made her sad, Nerr resigned herself to the fact that, if that was what was expected of her, that was what she would do.

While she told herself she was okay with that, in this particular moment, she could not force herself to think or behave like a dignified princess of Nohr. Just for a while, she needed to not be Nerr Von Krakenburg, and just be Nerr the girl. Gunther had not pulled away and begun chastising her yet, but it could've just been that he was in shock. She tightened her grip on his tunic just in case. He was right about one thing, though; the years certainly had passed. The last time she clearly remembered hugging him, her head barely came up to his stomach, and he'd had to stoop uncomfortably to return her embrace. Now, she could rest her cheek against his chest, her sensitive ears picking up the faint rhythm of his heart. There were tears in her eyes, and when she blinked, they stained the linen of his shirt a darker shade of purple.

“Lady Nerr? He asked, his voice quiet, but rumbling through her face and arms like distant thunder. “Are you alright?”

“I love it.” She sniffled. Clearly Gunther had not idea what she was on about.

“I don't--”

“Your gift. I love it, more than anything. It's the most wonderful present I've ever received.”

“It's just a piece of polished metal...” Nerr looked up at him, not bothering to wipe away her tears as they kept falling anyway.

“So is a crown. They're both just pieces of metal you wear- the value comes when someone says, 'this has value'. And so I say this hairpin is more valuable to me than all of the jewels in Castle Krakenburg.” Gunther gaped at her, ever so slightly.

“That's a bit of an exaggeration, I think...”

“I don't. It's the unmitigated truth. What would a handful of shiny rocks matter to me? This...” She glanced back to where the box lay on her bed. “This is something precious, given to me by the person I hold dearest in the world.”

“Lady Nerr...” She ignored him, pressing on as if she had said nothing wrong.

“It made you think of me, and it's filled with your hopes for me. I place more value on that than diamonds and gold.”

For a long time there was silence, and Nerr was too afraid to look up. Normally, her brain filtered out things like that before they got to her mouth, but today... she would blame it on her exhaustion. After a while, a low, deep laugh reverberated through her. She chanced a quick glance up and saw Gunther smiling down at her, a familiar, tender look in his eyes.

“You certainly know how to make a pauper feel like a king of kings. No doubt you could rally the world behind any cause you choose with those honeyed words.” Oh. So that was what he thought of her speech as- idle flattery. Reigning in her disappointment, she closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest (if he wasn't going to push her away, then she would enjoy the closeness for as long as she could), frustrated and tired.

“I spoke only the truth. I don't laud praise on things that don't deserve it.”

“I know, my lady. Your praise is the most honest critique. I truly do not deserve such distinction.”

“Nonsense...” she tried- and failed- to stifle a yawn. She was beginning to wish she was already in bed. “You're... a wonderful person, Gunther...”

“Heh. I think my lady might be sleep talking.”

Gently, he eased her back over to her bed, her legs giving out the moment they brushed against the mattress. Fighting another yawn, she used the last reserves of her strength to move her precious gift over to her nightstand, and swing her legs onto the bed as well. As she lay down, Gunther pulled the covers over her the same way he had done years ago. Reaching up, he brushed an ever-errant lock of hair from her forehead, another old habit, though it seemed his touch lingered just a little longer than it used to. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking from Nerr's half-dreaming mind.

“Good night, my little ladyship.” He whispered, using his old pet name for her. More asleep than awake, she smiled slightly.

“Good night, Gunther...” As his footsteps grew fainter and the door quietly squealed closed, she cracked her eyes open, a sliver of bright crimson visible in the darkness. She moved her lips silently. 'I love you...'

Hey, all you Shura fangirls and fanbois (I know y'all are out there), since you love ya boi so much, maybe you’d like to read another fan’s take on his tragic tale? Granted, I probably haven’t put as much thought into him as all of you, but I still think I did Fates’ best pirate (ninja/theif/trickshot enthusiast) justice.

Random excerpt from the current chapter of "The Falling Light" that I'm working on now:

The Nohrian princess looked back over at the small crowd of Hoshidans and Nohrians.

"I need you all to make me angry."

"You're a bitch, and nobody likes you." Takumi supplied so quickly she was certain that was going to be his response regardless of what she had asked.

"I appreciate the thought, Takumi, but I don't care enough about your opinion for your words to hurt me." She told him sincerely. "Anyone else?"

Bonus scene:

As the second prince passed her, he whispered just loud enough for Nerr to pick up.

"You look like a really stupid prostitute."

"Thank you, Takumi."

I'm actually really proud of this chapter. Iy has Charlotte and Benny in it, and I love them. I hope I did the justice...

So, I saw a cute prompt on @imagine-your-ocs-otps and HAD to write something for it. I can't say which prompt because that would spoil the whole story, but it's at the end of the fic. I have to do more of those prompts- they're wonderful! Part of me already wants to do a sequel!

We Both Start Over (Gunther/Nerr drabbles)

“Rejection”

–

The sight of children playing was one he hadn’t seen for many years. In the lush meadows dotted with wildflowers, the sweetsmelling air filled with the sweet sound of birdsong and joyous laughter, it was easy to forget that there was a war going on. After all, how could one think of death when every inch of this world exploded with life? Of course, this world was not their own. It existed alongside it, akin to that wretched hellhole, Valla. An “astral realm” as Lilith called them, when she first brought them to the lands she hailed from so that they could be given a few moments of respite. It was not a vacation, but a break in their journey born of necessity. It had happened so suddenly one day- Nerr had been marching at the forefront of the infantry when she paused suddenly, and swooned. A thousand fears ran through Gunther’s mind as he forced his way through the crowd to see his liege. A few minutes and a quick once over by Princess Elise later, and she was back on her feet insisting everything was fine, but by then, there had only been one word on the soldier’s lips. Pregnant.

When they made camp that night, Prince Xander ordered a meeting of the entire battalion to warn them that further fraternization was hereby prohibited. But it mattered not, the damage was done, and their leader spent the next five months out of commission… well, five months for her. Time passed much faster in the astral realms than it did in their world, and when she returned two weeks later, everyone had been shocked to see her belly no longer swollen. Now, her duties had doubled, for she was no longer just a captain, but a mother as well. Once a week at the least, once she was done overseeing things in camp and contributing to the war council, she and her husband would return to the astral realm where she had given birth. And, as they were wont to do, her family insisted they accompany her. She let them, of course, eager to have her son grow up surrounded by loved ones. Nerr, Elise, and Camilla sat in the middle of the field, probably still weaving daisy chains. Gunther smiled from where he sat near the tree line. He wished she could stay here; this place did her good. A small body settled beside him, and his smile faltered.

“Dywer. What are you doing here? I thought you were with your mother and aunts?” The young boy (he had been two the last time he saw him; now he was going on five) frowned deeply, slouching against one of the tree trunks.

“It’s hot over there. I wanna stay in the shade with you, Grampa Gunther.” The old knight felt his jaw tighten, but said nothing. Angry, hateful words burned his tongue, but he would not give into his weakness and voice them aloud.

“If you don’t wish to stay with your mother, you should find your father. He’ll be worried if you simply wander off.”

“Nuh uhn.” Dywer shook his head, his perpetually messy teal mop falling into his eyes. He had his mother’s hair, and her pointed ears, but the similarities ended there. “Mommy said I could sit with you, so it’s okay.” Gunther dug his nails into the flesh of his palm to keep silent. Of course she did… He looked back at his liege, and this time, no warm feelings washed over him. Only cold, bitter memories.

The Hoshidan sun was so bright in Izumo it was impossible to ignore, but she had still looked straight up. Just as she always did. Sometimes, he thought to chastise her for not thinking, but the truth was, he cherished these brief moments when he saw her ruffled and undignified. It was only at times like this when he could forget, if only for a moment, that he was so far below her station. He needed to forget if he was to ask what had been burning his mind for months now. She had nodded at him, poised once more, though he could still see bits of grass sticking to her tights.

“All right, then. Ask away.” Gunther swallowed hard, trying to loosen the lump in his throat. It was just a simple question, he told himself. It didn’t mean anything.

“Is there anyone- in camp, perhaps- that you have… particularly strong feelings for?” He could barely hear himself over the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. Across from him, Lady Nerr gasped, shocked or perhaps even affronted.

“Wh-why would you ask that? Where does a question like that even come from…?” ‘From having no other thought occupy mind mind for ages…’

“I don’t believe you set any stipulations regarding what I could ask and why.” He deflected her inquiry, terrified of how she might respond if she knew the truth. “You agreed that I could ask a question and you would answer me honestly.” Her shoulders slumped a bit and she looked away from him, casting her gaze to the ground.

“You’re right… you’re right, I did agree to that… There is someone in camp, yes…” The older man felt as though his heart would burst from his chest.

“Really?” He cleared his throat slightly, berating himself for sounding so eager. “I see. Then… Tell me, my lady- who is this person?” Nerr glanced back up at him, her pale cheeks darkly fushed.

“You really want to know, Gunther?” He nodded silently, not trusting his voice at that moment. “It’s… Well, it’s… Jakob.” At once, he felt his heart shatter.

“…Jakob.” She nodded, blushing even brighter.

“Yes. I-it’s a secret; I haven’t even told him yet, but… I plan to.” In that moment, Gunther wished he was dead. That he had simply been left in Valla to rot, for being torn asunder by those monstrosities would’ve been less painful than forcing himself to smile at those awful words.

“I’m happy for you, my lady. I hope that boy knows how lucky he is to have you.”

He was pulled from his thoughts by the slight pressure and warmth of a body pressed against his. Dwyer had scooted down and made himself comfortable, using the knight’s leg as a pillow. For one horrible moment, Gunther was tempted to push the boy away, to snap at him to go annoy his parents and leave him be, but no sooner than the thought came was it washed away by guilt. It wasn’t his fault. He had not asked to be brought into the world, nor was it Nerr’s fault, for one could not control who they did, or didn’t, love. Gods knew that was a lesson he had learned all too well. Sighing deeply, he rested his hand on the child’s shoulder. As painful as it could be at times, he would not renounce his duty as a knight, and as he protected his lady liege, so too must he protect her children… even if he despised them for not being his.

000000000000

A/N- “It’s over, isn’t it; why can’t I move on?”

This was painful to write. I wrote it a while ago, but @luminarygarbagequeen told me to post it, so here it is. Happy Birthday to me.

A new chapter of the Hoshidan branch of The Road Not Trekked. In which Leo fills Nerr in on some unwanted truths. I swear, I thought I'd have finished painting my cover for this story by now.

We Both Start Over (Gunther/Nerr drabbles)

“Ninja Turtles”

–

Normally Nerr was very active in camp, going around and taking inventory, listening to grievances, or else, just offering a friendly hello to the soldiers under her command, but today, she had been acting rather... furtive. Gunther had noticed her eyes scanning the immediate area more often than usual. When he brought it up, she simply replied, “Assassins”. It was a reason that needed no further explanation, he knew, but nonetheless, it did not strike him as the whole truth. After all, if she were so concerned about Hoshidans getting the slip on her, why would she keep sneaking away and heading to dark, desolate corners of camp all by her lonesome? Gunther knew something was afoot, but he also knew his young wife would never tell him what it was. Since he returned from the hellish purgatory that had been his prison for three long months, he'd found his once transparent liege had become closed off and secretive. She wore layers upon layers of masks, to the point he where couldn't even be sure if she was being herself around him, of if it was simply another “act”, as she called it. Regardless of her true feelings, however, his love remained strong as ever, and with it, his concern for his mistress grew.

Whatever she was hellbent on keeping secret could be nothing good. So, as the Nohrian princess slipped away from the crowd of soldiers she had been conversing with for the fifth time, Gunther decided to follow her. He stayed just close enough to keep her in his line of sight, edging along the tents and supplies that littered the camp so that if she turned around and spotted him, it would appear that he was simply straightening the weapons that lay in disarray (which he did anyway, because the sight of askew lances made his skin crawl). As Nerr disappeared behind one of the storage tents, he frowned, carving the lines near his mouth deeper. What was that girl up to? As quietly as he could manage (no easy feat in a suit of armor), he crept up to where she had vanished. There in the shadows, the younger girl stooped over something, so engrossed with whatever she was doing that she didn't notice she was no longer alone until Gunther cleared his throat. At once, she turned, and he found the gilded point of her Yato leveled with his throat. Crimson eyes, wide with fear, slowly returned to their normal size, and Nerr let out a deep sigh, dropping her blade.

“Gods, Gunther- I nearly slit your throat! You know better than to sneak up on me!”

“Perhaps I would not have to sneak up on you if you didn't skulk around in dark corners, my lady.” He said, sounding far calmer than he felt. Her full lips pursed in annoyance, and she sheathed her sword with an irriatated sniff.

“I'm not 'skulking'. Perhaps I simply wanted a moment of privacy?”

“You could get privacy in our tent. Loitering in the shadows hardly inspires confidence.” The knight frowned slightly as he noticed something covered in a blanket behind her. “What have you got there, Nerr?”

“Nothing.” She said quickly. Far too quickly. Gently pushing her to one side and ignoring her protests, Gunther bent over and pulled the blanket away, revealing a basket. His stomach chruned slightly. Oh gods, what was this? Dozens of scenarios ran through his mind, starting with raw entrails and growing more macabre from there.

“Don't open that!” She cried out, but as was human nature, her warning only made him curiouser yet. Flipping over the the lid, his expression fell. Straightening, Gunther turned once more to face his wife, who was looking at her feet. He leveled her with a hard stare.

“...No. No. More. Pets.” At once, she raised her gaze to meet his, her face incredulous.

“I'm not an idiot, Gunther! I'm not going to keep turtles as pets in the midst of a war!”

“Then why do you have them?” Of all the things to discover... he was beginning to wish there had been body parts in the basket after all. At least that he could understand. Pouting, Nerr bent and retrieved her basket, her expression softening into a smile as she looked in at it's contents.

“They were in the middle of the trail when we were marching last night. I didn't want anyone's horse to trample the poor things, so I grabbed them. As soon as we come across a river or pond, I'm going to let them go.” Gunther felt his heart melt slightly. Of course she would make a conscious effort to save turtles. But...

“Then why keep this a secret? I thought you were slowly disposing of a body.”

Crimson eyes locked on his, hard and cold.

“If I were disposing of a body, I'd be done before you noticed anything was amiss.” Glancing back at the turtles, she smiled, every trace of a killer gone at once. “We're running low on rations. If anyone found out I had fresh meat, they'd insist we kill them for food. And while I can't very well begrudge my soldiers being hungry, I couldn't bear the thought of killing something so cute. Look at him!” She reached into the basket and pulled one of the reptiles out. It was about the size of an open hand, dark green and wrinkled. Gunther recoiled as he looked into it's beady eyes, his lip twisting. “Cute” was not the word he would use to describe such a thing, but Nerr's aesthetic sense was... skewed... to say the least (after all, she called him “adorable” on many occasions).

“Yes, that's very... yes.” The princess pulled the reptile back, cooing over it.

“He's almost the same shade of green as Kaze's hair. And look at this one!” She replaced one turtle and pulled out the other one. This one looked even uglier, with dark red streaks running along it's leathery hide, and a milky white eye. “This one has one eye, like Kaze's brother. They're turtle brothers- ninja brothers! They're turtle ninjas!” Gunther sighed quietly. It had already begun. Anytime Nerr found an animal, she gave it a name and then refused to part with it. It was an undue hassle, but that soft heart of hers was part of why he loved her so. He rested his hand atop her head.

“I want them gone tomorrow, Nerr. Or you're going to be having ninja turtle soup.”

“Turtle ninjas!”

000000000000

A/N- I imagine that between the death, and hunger, and fear and jomesickness and constant sense of soul-crushing misery that follows Nerr's battalion through Hoshido during the war, there are moments like this sprinkled around, like idividually wrapped cookies buried in the overflowing dirty litterbox of life. She really loves animals, to the point that even though she doesn't like bugs, she can't stand to let anyone kill them.

Also, I had a pet turtle growing up. They are horrifying, smelly monsters, but they're so cute when they're little!

We Both Start Over (Gunther/Nerr drabbles)

“A Fork in the Road” –

Nerr was supposed to be studying the map before her, but ten minutes of looking at the crosshatched landmarks had left her mind wandering. She currently sat slumped over her makeshift desk, resting her cheek on one had as the other lazily traced a figure eight on the map, starting at the Infinite Chasm, looping around Nohr, then crossing the chasm once more to loop around Hoshido, ad infinitum. Her eyes itched from strain and sleep deprevation, the dimmly flickering lamplight doing her no favors. She needed to sleep, but she knew the moment she put the map away, she would start thinking about it again. Large, stong arms wrapped around her stomach from behind as the weight of another's head rested atop her own.

“Do you ever think about fate, Nerr?” Her lips pulled into a smile of habit alone, a conditioned reflex as Gunther's low voice reverberated through her skull. His inquiry, however, was less appreciated.

“Fate is a stupid fairytale believed by stupid people, Gunther.”

“Is that how you think of me, then?” At once, the princess's smile slipped away, and she turned in her beloved's grasp to face him, and incredulous look on her face.

“You jest. You can't honestly believe that your life has been predetermined. I refuse to accept that.”

“Not every aspect of it, no.” The older man conceded. “But when I think of you- when I think of us... I cannot help but feel there is some greater force at play.” Nerr gave a scoffing laugh.

“That's ridiculous. It isn't the will of the gods that I love you.”

“Perhaps not, but so many other things could be.” Gunther said solemnly, his expression dark, the shadows cast by the lamp making the harsh planes of his face more severe. “If anything had gone differently... if King Garon had not kidnapped you that day, if he hadn't sent me to punish you... if you were a boy--” Nerr held her hand up, stopping him.

“I would still love you if I were a boy. Do you not feel the same?”

“I do, but what if--”

“What if the sky turns to fire and your nose falls off?” She reached up, tapping the tip of her index finger against his crooked septum for emphasis. “Random chance is not fate, Gunther. Do you really think the gods are up there, planning out the week and deciding if it should rain or snow each day? If Father had never kidnapped me, we would never have met, and we wouldn't know what we were missing- it's as simple as that. The only thing that shapes our lives are the choices we make.” Gunther remained silent for a long while, his jaw tight. When he finally spoke once more, his voice was quiet.

“And what if we had made different choices? What if you had taken a different path in life?” In truth, Nerr had often thought of that, too. What if, in a moment of madness, she had sided with Hoshido? What if their paths had never crossed again? Pensive, she glanced back at the map. They were nearly at the wall of Susano-O. The princess brushed her finger against their current position, trailing it back across the plains and over the chasm. She continued on through Nohr, through Windmire and off the map, dragging her finger over the contours of muscle she could feel through the thin shirt Gunther wore, and stopping at his sternum.

“All my paths lead here. Some might be longer, others shorter, but this is where they all stop.” A rough, calloused hand, much larger than her own, gently encased her fingers, lifting them up to surprisingly soft lips.

“Fate or not, I thank the gods everyday that my path is intertwined with yours.” His breath was warm on her fingers, and she smiled once more.

“As do I, my love.” She paused for a moment, then smiled wider, getting to her feet. “Let's go to sleep. Strategic thinking can wait until the morning.”

000000000000

A/N- All Nerr's paths lead back to Gunther... y'know, except for the ones where she doesn't side with Nohr. But I'm sure that'll never happen...

We Both Start Over (Gunther/Nerr drabbles)

“Hugs” – Physical affection had been banned for the inhabitants of the Northern Citadel for several years now. Though in truth, that rule was only really enforced when it came to members of the opposite sex. No kisses on the cheek (or elsewhere...), no holding hands, certainly no being alone together... and definitely no hugging. It was not a decree that came from King Garon, or even Prince Xander. Gunther had instituted it himself and was it's firmest advocator. It wasn't that he was a cold man who found the concept of affection abhorrent (given his past, he'd be a hypocrite of the highest order to do so). No, it was simply a result of circumstance... the circumstance of an overly affectionate lady liege who had been blissfully unaware of the changes in her blossoming body. Gunther had noticed, and unfortunately, so did Jakob. Bad enough a hormone addled teenage boy lived with a quickly maturing young girl, but he would be damned if he let them be alone together. It only took a moment of weakness to lead to a lifetime of regret, after all. He had set up that rule simply because the young steward could not be trusted... was what he told himself. Not because he had felt his mistress's newly budding breasts press against him and in that moment, had a dozen suggestive thoughts run through his own mind. He was nearing sixty- he wasn't some lovesick swain who couldn't control his baser instincts. That was a very chivalrous thought, one he would've believed had he not currently found his face pressed against two now very mature breasts, sinewy arms wrapped around his head and shoulders in an iron embrace, keeping him there. “Nerr, I--” “Shhhh... just let me hold you for a bit.” She wore no armor, just a thin linen shirt, and he could feel the warmth radiating from her. “This is untoward.” He hissed, cringing mentally as his voice cracked slightly. No one was supposed to know they were betrothed; there would severe repercussions for them both should Princess Camilla or Prince Xander find out, and yet Nerr had tricked him into bending down, acting as though she wished to tell him something not meant for eavesdropping ears, and promptly captured him in her grasp. Gunther could feel his back growng stiff. He wasn't accustomed to remaining doubled over for so long. “Nerr--” “Just a little longer.” The veteran knight had no choice but to comply with her wishes. He could struggle, to be sure, perhaps even pull himself free, but there were times when Nerr's draconic instinct seemed to take over, and that was what stayed his hand. The last time he had tried to pull away as she “embraced” him, her grip had tightened so much that he had been left with bruises. She didn't even seem to realize that she had hurt him, which was the most worrying thing. Feral wyverns often did the same thing to their prey, clamping down further with each struggle until their quarry could no longer draw breath. Gunther trusted his fiancée was not secretly planning to eat him, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't be sure. Sighing, his breath causing the thin cloth of her blouse to flutter slightly, he asked the only question she would allow him to finish. “Why?” At once, she withdrew, her absence coming so suddenly, he nearly tipped over without her there as a support. Her expression was that of a guileless child, all wide eyes and parted lips, as though she hadn't nearly smothered him just now. “To make up for lost time, of course. I have five years worth of hugs pent up inside of me. They need an outlet.” The older man felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. Straightening, he reached out, pulling her close to his own chest. There was no need for her to stoop, as that was exactly where her head came to, and he reveled in the soft warmth pressed against him. “Gunther? What are you--” “Shhh. We'll get through them twice as quickly like this.” 000000000000 A/N- She learned it from Camilla, of course. So, in "The Road Not Trekked", the story Nerr comes from, the only inhabitants of the Northern Citadel are her and her core servants (Gunther, Jakob, Flora and Felicia, and Lilith, in order of arriving). There's no other staff, no one else living there at all. There USED to be, but they all left shortly after Jakob arrived, and it's safe to say Gunther's responsible for that. For six years, the three of them lived alone (much to Camilla's chagrin), until Nerr turned 11 and started going through puberty, at which point Gunther promptly told Jakob he was never allowed to be alone with her again and went to Garon to request female servants for his liege, which is why Flora and Felicia were sent to the boonies, as opposed to staying in Krakenburg, which is better protected and in closer sight of the king. Despite knowing a great deal about physiology and the reproductive process, Nerr is very much clueless that people might view her any way but platonically, and as such, has no real understanding why jumping on sexually frustrated men and rubbing her boobs on them might be awkward for them. Seriously, she could be walking around butt nekkid and see Jakob pop a boner, and the thought that it's because of *her* would never cross her mind. "Oh, goodness. Do you have to pee, Jakob? I've read that a full bladder can cause an erection." "N-no, milady, that's definitely not why..." "Hmm. Well, sometimes they just happen for no reason. Penises are weird. *casually walks away, still naked*"

We Both Start Over (Gunther/Nerr drabbles)

“A Chance Meeting” Though Castle Krakenburg was now her home, Nerr often found herself longing for the Northern Citadel. It was a delapidated prison in a barren wasteland, as she was often reminded, but it always would always be her real home in her heart. Often times, when there was no work to do, no levee to attend or meeting to schedule, she would simply walk the desolate path leading away from the capital and into the mountains. Telling anyone where she was going would only cause them to try and talk her out if it, for it seemed her entire family was hellbent on ensuring she forgot that part of her life. But it was a part she clung to, even knowing what a sorry lie it had been. When Gunther found out where she was going those long hours she could not be found, he surprised her by not admonishing her as she had assumed he might, but rather, inisting he accompany her. She had no complaints, and in fact welcomed his presence, but he had made it known in the past that he had no love for the drafty fortress. It always was, and always would be, in his mind, a prison. Some days, they simply walked the sprawling corridors, pointing out little nooks and crannies where memories had been made over the years. One day, however, their impromptu tour headed lower, into the ancient cellars. Nerr shuddered as she stepped into the deep caverns, the air stagnant and heavy with mildew and decay. She had not been this far down in years, not since she was a small child, a Hoshidan prisoner of war rather than a Nohrian princess. The thought gave her pause. Though the winding tunnels had been abandoned for so long, the enchanted torches that lined the walls still burned strongly, casting a violet hue over the walls. Gunther was still walking, heading deeper into the catacombs, and Nerr quickly ran to join him, her skin crawling at the thought of being left alone there even for a moment. For a time, they walked in silence, the only sound that of their steps on the mildew slicked stone. “...where are we going, Gunther?” She asked quietly after a while. Her husband did not respond, the heavy shadows making his face appear harsher than it normally did. His gait was purposeful, almost angry, hers a meek tip toe in comparison. Suddenly, he stopped in front of a heavy iron door, it's massive hinges caked in rust. “...Gunther...?” “This was your cell.” He said, his voice cold, monotonous. As Nerr glanced back at the door, her stomach seemed to twist and turn under her ribs. The old knight either did not notice her discomfort, or else, did not care as he continued speaking, each word harsher than the last. “The only reason King Garon sent me here was because he knew I followed orders, no matter how cruel. I'd kill anyone, anywhere. Children, animals, old people; it didn't matter.” He turned to face her, the flickering light of the violet flames dancing across his face reminding her suddenly of the demon that murdered her mother. “I'd have killed you without a second thought.” The princess swallowed hard, trying to wet her parched mouth. “...then why didn't you?” Something seemed to crack in Gunther's expression, that hard mask quickly devolving into abject misery. “... ...I don't know. I've asked myself that so many times, and the truth is that I simply do not know. I'd never disobeyed an order before I met you.” Nerr closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, the stench of the catacombs bringing unwanted memories to the surface of her mind. “...well, I'm grateful you met me when you did, my love.” “Why is that?” “Because if we had met now rather than then, I would probably have killed you first.” The silence between them grew heavier, broken only by the dripping of water and the occasional crackle of the torches. How much had changed since that first encounter... 000000000000 A/N- So, if you haven't read, “The Rising Dark”, Nerr kind of has a strict, “Kill them before they kill me” policy in place after the first attempt on her life. There's no doubt in my mind that if Gunther approached her with a whip these days (and not for kinky purposes), she'd dismember him and have him buried in a shallow grave before she even realized what she was doing.

We Both Start Over (Gunther/Nerr drabbles)

“Scream” – The sound woke her up, reverberating inside her skull and confusing her in her semi-conscious state. Struggling to untangle herself from her covers, Nerr didn't even bother pushing the tangled hair from her face as she reached under her pillow, grabbing the handle of the long knife that resided there. Though her Yato remained ever at her side, it was too long and unwieldy for close, sudden combat. Eyes still glued shut with sleep, she whipped her head to and fro, trying to get a sense of where the danger was. She could hear no signs of a struggle, could smell no blood... It took a moment to realize that it had been a hoarse cry that roused her, an even longer moment to realize exactly where it had come from. Lowering her weapon ever so slightly, the princess turned to face the other occupant of her bed. Gunther lay there, stock still, eyes wide, a rictus grimace of fear frozen on his face. He clutched the comforter so tightly she could see his knuckles turning stark white even as his hands shook slightly. With her own pulse no longer thundering in her ears, she could hear his breathing, short, almost pained gasps. Sighing deeply, the princess returned the knife back under her pillow and slowly laid back down, resting her head as slowly and carefully onto her husband's chest as she could. She could feel the thrumming of his pulse against her skin. “What happened, Gunther?” She asked quietly. There was no corporeal danger at the moment, but she knew full well that did not make his fear any less real. It was always a hit or miss whether or not he would confide in her. Sometimes, he began speaking right away, his voice tight with fear, with pain, with tears, as he slowly recounted whatever horrid memory plagued his dreams at the moment. Other times, they simply lapsed into silence and eventually fell asleep once more. She had given him the chance to say what was on his mind; that was all she could do for him now. 000000000000 A/N- Short chapter, but I felt that less was more in this case.

Oh. My god. Y'all gotta read this, right stat now, because it is so cute and sweet and fluffy that it's keeping me from english-ing good!!!! My babies are actually HAPPY!!!

Drink it in, folks, cuz you ain't getting this kind of feel-good fluff from me.

I FINALLY got around to finishing the fic that I gave away in the contest. This fic was written for the lovely @silvershadow1711 It features her OC Nerr (who is a bad ass by the way, seriously go check her out on Silver’s blog) and her husband Gunter from Fire Emblem Fates, post conquest. Silver requested that it focus on Nerr making clothing for Gunter and so it features Nerr making a suit for Gunter to help him adjust to his new life as a noble. I am still so very sorry that it took so long but I appreciate your patience and I hope you like it!

Keep reading

Glow (a fe:f fanfic)

A/N- Not exactly a sequel, but rather the events that unfold after The Rising Dark. I wanted this to be a one-shot, but it ended up becoming a multi-chaptered short story that I work on when I have writer's block. I kind of want to post it on FFN and Ao3, but I'm wondering what people here think first, so here's the first part. Warning (cuz tumblr needs that nonsense, apparently): it's dark, and deals with miscarriages. Don't wanna trigger anyone

000000000000

“Before I even realized it, I've grown up and matured

Beautiful lies grace my tongue, concealing old regrets

By now, I've had my share of pain and suffering, to be sure

But even so, that doesn't mean it stopped yet....”

000000000000

Nerr paused for the third time as she made her way to the throne room, leaning against one of the many pillars that lined the halls of Castle Krakenburg and inhaling deeply several times. She wasn't out of breath, she simply... felt strange. She had been feeling odd since leaving Macarath four days ago. Shifting the papers she held under her right arm to her left, she rested her hand over her belly, frowning slightly. She had long since become accustomed to the swelling of her once flat stomach. Gunther had told her pregnancy brought with it all manner of strange aches and maladies. She trusted him. It was nothing. Sighing, the princess continued on her way. Xander had requested her presence at this morning's levee, and she was ever a dutiful sister, although this probably had more to do with the attack that had left three Hoshidans seriously injured than familial support. Pushing the heavy double doors open with her shoulder (she couldn't risk straining too hard), Nerr nearly fell in as they opened with far less force than she had anticipated. She did not fall, however, quickly braced by arms that led to familiar brown eyes and blonde hair.

    “Were you just waiting by the door for me, Leo?”

    “Yes.” He answered plainly, setting his sister upright. Despite being two years younger, the second (now first) prince of Nohr had overtaken Nerr by another solid two inches in the year since the war ended. Camilla had beamed that he was having a growth spurt, but Nerr felt the sudden influx of fresh produce made readily available from Hoshido played no small role. Even Elise had grown larger, though she still remained tiny and adorable compared to the rest of her family. At this rate, Nerr was certain she was going to end up being the shortest in a few years- it seemed height was not something her birth family had to spare. Even Ryouma had been dwarfed by Xander... a pair of fingers snapping an inch from her nose brought her back from her wandering thoughts. Leo frowned, his exasperated expression ever the same despite his maturing face.

    “Can you go five minutes without your mind drifting to gods' know what?”

    “I suppose not.” The prince frowned at her subdued response.

    “And here I was expecting an insult. I know you're not the quickest wit, Nerr, but I thought you could do better than that.” Inhaling and sighing again, the princess began walking towards the throne, her brother quickly matching her pace.

    “I don't feel up to any verbal sparing today, Leo.” At once, the younger boy's expression shifted to concern and he overtook her, standing in her path to still her.

    “Are you feeling alright, sister? You're not unwell, are you? No pain, shortness of breath...?” Nerr smiled slightly. Despite always having been rather aloof towards her, Leo made it very clear he was concerned about her wellbeing, especially while she was with child.

    “I'm fine, Leo. Just a bit tired.” It was more than simple tiredness, but she was sure that she would feel better if she just got a bit of rest, which would be much easier in her own bed as opposed to a cramped carriage. The younger boy frowned deeply.

    “I don't know what Xander's thinking, summoning you to a levee while you're pregnant. Doesn't he know this is your no-good husband's duty?” Had those words come from anyone else, they would have sparked a fury inside her, but she knew Leo well enough to appreciate his sense of humor.

    “Gunther always attends the levee. He won't admit it, but he's exhausted. Dealing with nobles taxes him--”

    “Not as harshly as he taxes them.”

    “Careful, baby brother; you keep cracking jokes like that and we'll start to think you've been replaced with someone amusing.”

    “There's that wit, or lack thereof.” Leo's smile was brief, replaced with a disapproving scowl once more. “Regardless, he should still be taking as many burdens off you as possible. You shouldn't have even gone to Macarath. You're making a person, Nerr; I sincerely doubt Gunther is as exhausted. as you.” She truly appreciated his concern, and let it be known by leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

    “You are surprisingly understanding about all this, Leo. You'll make a good husband one day.” The color rising in his cheeks did not go unnoticed, but she ignored it. “Unfortunately, I had to go to Macarath. It was a diplomatic visit. Easing tensions and diffusing situations before they become riots is my duty.” He knew he could not argue with the truth, and didn't even bother trying. Though Nerr would not admit it, the truth was, she cared more about feeling useful again than keeping the peace between Nohr and Hoshido. She wanted to feel like she could do something right again after so many failures. She rested her hand on his elbow, trying to sound as earnest as she could. “I'm fine, Leo. Everything is fine.” He looked as though he might try to argue that point, but the sound of hinges creaking behind them drew both royals' attention. The door leading to the Lord's chamber had opened, and Xander stepped into the throne room. As was expected, Nerr and Leo curtseyed and bowed, respectively, to their king. The elder sibling smiled, his furrowed brow relaxing.

    “At ease, brother, sister. There's no need to stand on ceremony when it's only us.”

    “Best to not get in the habit of shirking our formalities, brother. Can you imagine the scandal if we were caught not showing our king the respect he's due?” Nerr laughed humorlessly.

    “The capital will be buzzing about how we're plotting a coup before the day is over.” Contrary to his siblings amusement, Xander did not look nearly as amused.

    “One would think that the litany of rumors that already abound within the castle walls would be enough. Or have the nobles already gotten bored talking about my insatiable lust and private harem in the dungeons?”

Nerr quickly frowned as well. That was one of the more damning pieces of gossip making it's way through the grapevine. Xander's first year on the throne had inspired more criticism than she would have liked. Not due to his strict measures and unpopular reforms (well, not so much due to them) so much as his bachelorhood. Normally, the king married before he was crowned, or at the very least, had a betrothal waiting in the wings. Xander stated time and again that ensuring Nohr's stability was more important than taking a wife, but everyone from the nobility to the maids insisted behind their hands that it was simply because he, like his father before him, was too fond of sampling the milk to buy a cow. Nerr had taken it upon herself to try and find a suitable wife for her brother, someone from a good family (to keep the hordes of nobles from rioting), kind and intelligent who knew her place and wouldn't try to use her position for anyone's gain but Nohr's, but Xander proved to be surprisingly picky, dismissing her candidates for the pettiest of reasons. Back in her room, she had several sheaves of paper, documents from old Nohrian families who believed their daughters were worthy of becoming queens. Just thinking about it made Nerr feel nauseous. She pressed her fingers to her lips, waiting for the queasiness to pass. The king looked at her, concern flitting over his face.

    “Nerr? What's wrong?”

    “Nothing, brother. I'm just feeling a bit sick to my stomach.” Rather than alleviate his concern, Xander's brows furrowed deeper.

    “Isn't it a bit late for that? I thought you'd be over your morning sickness by now.” She shook her head, instantly regretting it as it seemed to make the world spin around her. Leo placing a hand on the small of her back was all that kept her from stumbling.

    “Oh... there is no getting over morning sickness, Xander. It's just a part of my life now.” The eldest royal reached out, resting his hand on her shoulder and gently stroking her through the fabric of her dress. Nerr let her eyes close for a moment, his familiar method of comforting her easing a bit of her malaise.

    “It pains me to force you to be here at my side when you should be resting, little princess. I assure you, I will attempt to get through today's levee as quickly as possible.” She appreciated his sentiments, but knew full well that there was no getting through a levee quickly, which was soon made clear as the throne room filled with dignitaries and officials. Xander took his place atop his throne, looking very regal in Nerr's eyes as she stood beside the steps leading up to it, Leo on the opposite side. The whole ordeal was the same as it had always been the other times she had been present for levees, the ducal ministers coming forward one at a time with their predictable, yet worrying nonetheless, news and requests.

Requests for soldiers in Dia as an unexpected string of pirate raids had left their border guards stretched to breaking. A surprise freeze in Anomovic had destroyed the majority of the flowers from which the fragrance wholesaler drew it's wealth, and as such, they would not be able to pay their taxes on time. While she knew this was the brunt of a royal's duty, no amount of studies could have prepared Nerr for the fatigue that came from simply listening to other people's problems. She shifted, grateful no one could see her bare feet beneath the hem of her gown, and placed her hand over her stomach. Dull, throbbing cramps had joined her worsening nausea, making the task of simply standing there and looking regal a hundredfold more taxing than it should have been. Leo sent her glances with increased frequency, but the princess tried to ignore him, tried to ignore everything but the words being spoken by the duke of Nestra, where the attack had taken place.

There was no shortage of such stories, people being attacked on both sides of the continent, even resulting in one or two deaths, but what made it so distressing this time was where it happened. Nestra had always been welcoming to Hoshidans, the Nohrian equivalent of Izumo. The victims, a wealthy merchant and his wife and child, had been viciously set upon by what they referred to as “thugs”, and had taken their righteous fury straight to Empress Hinoka. There was talk that she was considering issuing sanctions against the entertainment capital, even banning Hoshidans from visiting Cyrkensia. Such a ban would spell economic ruin for a city that thrived on the wealth brought in from the east, but try as she might to focus her attention on the dire situation, Nerr could think of little but her increasing pain. The cramps had become sharp, moving to her back and reaching an intensity that made it hard to breathe. A particularly sharp jolt left her doubled over, the papers she held fluttering to the floor as she clutched her stomach. The Nestrian duke stopped speaking, but whispers rose up from the rest of the dignitaries like a swarm of bees.

    “Nerr. What is it?” Xander's voice sounded like it came from far away, and even though she could see Leo's shoes quickly approaching her, she could barely hear him over the throbbing in her skull.

    “Sister, what's wrong?” Biting her lip to keep from crying out, Nerr shook her head. Nothing as wrong. Nothing was wrong.

    “I-- I think I need to use the restroom...” She whispered, even as she felt something hot run down her leg. The nobles gasped, recoiling with looks of horror and disgust on their faces, but she was in too much pain to be embarrassed.

    “Nerr! You're bleeding!”

    “What? No...” The princess took a step forward, desperate to leave the massive room that now seemed much too small, pitching forward as the world tilted on it's axis. She did not hit the floor, falling into a pair of large strong arms. For a moment, her dizzy mind thought it was Gunther who held her, but a glance upward revealed blurry blonde curls.

    “Leo.” Xander's voice was far too loud now. “Send one of the servants to go fetch a midwife and have her come to my quarters.”

    “Right.” The younger prince nodded, and when Nerr blinked, he was gone. The arms that held her up moved behind her shoulders and under her knees, and she felt her feet leave the ground.

    “N-no... don't... the levee--”

    “Can wait. You are very unwell, Nerr.” She shook her head, struggling weakly against him even as he turned, walking towards the doors at the back of the room that lead to his chambers. She could see the papers she'd dropped in her periphery, drops of dark red stark against the cream pages. Her breathing quickened as she renewed her struggles.

    “No, I'm fine! I'm fine, there's nothing wrong!” There couldn't be anything wrong, not this time... Nerr was too caught up in her thoughts to notice her surroundings had changed, the barren empty space of the throne room now more occupied and comfortable. Xander walked her over to the massive bed, laying her down atop the deep maroon comforters. There was a similarly colored stain on the sleeve that had been under her knees as he carried her, but she barely noticed it. “No.... no no no no no...”

    “Shhh...” The blonde man sat beside her, brushing the hair back from her face and gently stroking her forehead. It was much less soothing this time. “Everything will be alright, little princess. The midwife is coming--”

    “Noooo!!” She moaned, tears stinging her eyes. “It's too early! Please, gods, no!” Xander cringed at the sound of her cries, but continued rubbing her head, trying to calm her. Several long minutes passed, her pain growing worse and worse, until the door opened once more. A hefty woman walked in, followed by two maids carrying sheets and a steaming bowl. Leo brought up the rear, his face flushed and hair in disarray, as though he had been running.

    “I've brought her, brother.” He gasped, stepping into the room. “How is--” He was cut off by a loud keen of anguish as Nerr writhed. It felt as though her insides were tearing up as blood continued soaking into her skirts. The midwife approached her, paying no mind to the king as she lifted the long dress up to her patient's hips and pressed down on her stomach. Shaking her head, she made a “tsk”ing sound, calling over one of the maids.

    “You there. Help me unlace her ladyship's dress. You and the prince had best leave the room, Your Majesty.” Xander mumbled something unintelligible as he nodded, heading towards the door where Leo still stood. Nerr reached out for him as he moved further away.

    “No! Xander, don't leave me!” She cried out, fear and pain making the room blur. A rough hand patted her arm, not unkindly.

    “You don't want men in here while you do this, princess. Stressful enough without them gawking.” Nerr was too upset to argue. She didn't care about gawking- she simply didn't want to be left alone with the strange hands unlacing her bodice and pulling the dark brocade down, until all she was left in was a thin chemise soaked with sweat and blood. The midwife reached between her legs, and she shuddered. “How far along are you, milady?”

    “Four months....” She whispered, unable to raise her voice any higher. It had seemed like such long time up until this very moment...

000

Nerr wasn't sure if hours or only minutes had passed as she lay in Xander's bed, caught in a state of flux between sleep and wakefulness. The midwife had long since left (or at least, it felt that way), and the maids had changed the sheets and blankets and brought her a clean shift to wear. She had watched in a state of numb shock as they took the bloody linens away to be washed. It seemed a miracle she had any blood left within her. The door opened, but she didn't notice it until the person had stepped inside and closed it back. For a moment, her gut clenched painfully, but upon noticing it was just Leo, she relaxed a bit. The young prince approached her slowly, as one might approach a dog they weren't to sure of.

    “Nerr? How are you, sister?” His voice was quiet, the kind of hushed whisper used when speaking at a funeral. It was appropriate. Nerr remained silent, her attention focused on the folds of the comforter. Leo stopped near the foot of the bed, a tome tucked under one arm, the other held behind his back as he usually kept both of them. Gunther stood like that- she always assumed it was a habit left over from his days in the army, but he told her it was because he didn't know what to do with his hands. She wondered if Leo knew what to do with his hands. She wondered where Gunther was. Was he still in Windmire? “I'm sorry, Nerr. I know my platitudes mean nothing, but it's all I can think to say...” Maybe he was at one of the stalls in the bazaar. He had taken up his old habit of coming back from the city with little trinkets, books and toys. “Nerr... I want to talk to you about... this. I know this is hardly the right time, but really, there isn't ever a right time.” Gifts for his no-more child. They could join the pile.

    “--ried so...”

    “What?” Leo blinked, taken aback by the sibilant whisper. He hadn't expected his sister to speak, so when she did, and so quietly, he didn't hear a word she said. Nerr was still staring at the blankets, a vacant stare that seemed to go on and on.

    “I tried so hard... I did everything right... I thought... this time...” The younger boy sighed deeply, pulling a chain away from the oak writing desk and placing it at her bedside, so he could face her as he sat.

    “This is the fourth time, sister--”

    “Sixth.”

    “...excuse me?” She gripped the comforter tightly, her knuckles popping, her nails itching as they grew thicker and sharper.

    “Six times. Twice... I didn't even realize I was pregnant until I saw the blood...” She had kept those instances to herself, letting her husband and her siblings believe she hadn't gotten pregnant yet. If they knew... the way Leo looked at her now wouldn't compare with the shame and disgust if they knew the extent of her failure.

    “Does... does Gunther know--”

    “No!” She snapped, her entire being going rigid. “And you can't ever, ever, ever tell him. He barely tolerates me now; he'll leave me if he finds out.”

    “Nerr, that's ridiculous and you know it...” Nerr wanted to slap the look of condescending sympathy off her brother's face. That was what everyone would say. That was what Gunther would say, and they would all be lying, lying to make her feel less worthless. Leo combed a hand through his hair, which was less mussed than it had been earlier, but still a far cry from the high standard he held himself to. “I've been reading, sister. About dragons. More specifically, the Ancient Ones.” She remained silent, waiting for him to continue. “Do you know why there are no more manaketes?”

    “They killed themselves off during the Great War.” Everyone knew that- it was ancient history. All that remained of them were their descendants, the royal families. To her surprise, Leo shook his head.

    “Even constant battles wouldn't be enough to drive an entire species to extinction, especially one that lives for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Nohr has been at war since the time of the Ancient Ones, we're ravaged by plague and famine relentlessly, and yet we've not gone extinct.” He brought up a very good point.

    “So... why then?” Leo met her eyes directly, and Nerr felt her stomach drop even before he spoke.

       “They were infertile. Our ancestors chronicled their lives with the dragons they fought for, and wrote that even though they took mates, decades, sometimes centuries would pass before they bore live offspring.” He held up the book for her to better see. It's leather cover was frayed and peeling, and many pages were askew, no longer bound to the spine. “Most never conceived, as far as the humans were aware. And those that did took ages, often with many failed attempts.” She clenched her jaw, his meaning clear but her mind deliberately slowing down. No, she didn't want to think about this.

    “Why are you telling me this, Leo?” Lowering the tome, his fingers twitched and tapped nervously on the cover. It seemed he had a hard time figuring out what to do with his hands, after all.

    “The draconic blood in your veins is much stronger than that of other royals. You're clearly a manakete. ...I can't help but think that this might not be a human problem you have, but a dragon problem.”

    “No. Your books are nonsense. I don't have a problem, I just have to try harder--”

    “Nerr, it's not just some fairy tale that was made up. We see it even now; it's almost impossible to find a breeding pair of Wyverns--”

    “So what?!” Nerr asked, her voice louder and more manic than she had wanted it to be. “Those are animals. I'm not some mindless mount. It's not a dragon problem, it's not a human problem. I'm just-- doing something wrong.”

    “Nerr--”

    “I don't have a problem! Nothing is wrong with me! Nothing's wrong, I just have to keep trying!”

    “...should I come back later?” Both royals turned their attention to the door, and Nerr felt her blood run cold. Gunther stood in the door frame, still wearing his traveling cloak, staring at the siblings with an inscrutable expression. Leo got to his feet at once.

    “No. of course not. Nerr and I were simply discussing... something.” Casting one last look at his sister, the prince left the room, in such a hurry that he didn't even wait for the former knight to move aside to let him pass. He watched the younger boy for a moment, before stepping into the room, shrugging off his cloak and folding it slowly.

    “Your brother told me you were in here...” He said, his tone even, but with an unnatural cadence. Nerr ground her teeth, feeling her gums start to itch. Tamping down the urge to transform was the same as tamping down her feeling, and often went hand in hand.

    “Close the door.” She whispered, afraid to speak any louder after her shouting match with Leo. Gunther held the handle as he pushed the heavy oak shut so that it didn't even make an audible click. Everyone tiptoed around her- it felt like they were afraid of waking a monster. She wished they were; fear would be so much more palatable than disappointment. He took Leo's vacant seat, reaching out to grasp her hand at once. His fingers were still chilled from the wind outside. The thought of him standing in the bazaar, looking through little clothes and soft shoes made her want to cry. Nerr shut her eyes, trying to swallow the tears that worked their way up her throat.

    “What happened, dearest? Did you fall, or...?” The way he trailed off was sickening. He was trying to give her an out, an excuse, a way to say “it wasn't really my fault”. She shook her head.

    “No. I lost it. I didn't fall, I didn't run into anything or eat anything or ride in a bumpy

carriage. It was there... and then it wasn't.” Her voice broke and she hated herself for it. How dare she, how dare she be sad, how dare she think her feeling mattered? She could feel Gunther's fingers trembling over hers, and just as quickly, he gripped her hand tighter.

    “It isn't your fault, Nerr. These things happen.” It's not your fault, Nerr, it's not your fault; these things happen. He'd been telling her that ad nauseam for almost two years, ever since the first time it wasn't her fault, and each time, that lie grew more transparent. She appreciated her beloved lying to her, she truly did. The way he masked his bitterness, his disappointment behind gentle words and smiles was kind, and that kindness made it easier for her to keep putting one foot in front of the other and endure each otherwise miserable day.

    “It is my fault...” She seethed through tightly clenched teeth. Her muscles were so tense they trembled quivered. A mounting pressure in her temples was making it hard to think.

    “Nerr, don't say such things.” Ever the dutiful, ideal husband, Gunther tried to distance her from her failure. He tried to push her back onto the pillows (gently, of course; everything he did since they'd wed was gentle, a far cry from the hard, strict mannerisms he used as her retainer), but she remained stiff and rigid, refusing to budge except to turn and face him.

    “It is my fault, Gunther. It's always my fault. But I can do better- I know I can!” She forced herself to smile, to believe her own lies, just like she had during the war. And she'd managed to bluff her way to victory then, so maybe it could work now too. “I-I was so close last time, remember? I just have to do everything I did then, but better!”

    “Nerr...”

    “We just have to-to try again. I just need another chance...!” She had moved her hand, lacing her fingers with Gunther's and squeezing his hand. She could feel the bones shifting beneath his skin as he winced, pulling his hand away for just a moment before clasping hers in both of his. He looked her deep in the eye, and she could see his moving, searching her face. For what? For a hint of the woman he'd thought he'd married, a woman who wasn't so troublesome?

    “Nerr... Dearest... I think it might be time to stop trying.” Deep in her heart, the princess had been expecting many different statements. I want a divorce or I don't love you... of all the horrible, devastating things she could have anticipated, somehow this was not one of them. She shook her head, not quite able to grasp the meaning of his words.

    “Wh-what do you mean? I know you're upset- I didn't mean now, in a few weeks maybe--”

    “This isn't good for you, Nerr.” Gunther cut her off, the unhappiness shrouding his face making him look even older than he was. “Every time... this happens, it takes you longer to get well again. I can't even fathom the heartache you feel. Putting you through this time and again is cruel--”

    “No, it's not!” She could not help raising her voice, the desperation in her tone grating her ears. “I want to do this! I promised I'd give you a family, and I will! It's just taking a little longer than I thought it would...” The pity held in those violet eyes brought bile rushing into her mouth, and as the knight leaned over to kiss her temple, rancor burned with the nausea.

    “You have given me a family, Nerr. You're my family, and you are all I could ever need. If you truly want children this badly, perhaps... we could adopt.” What.

    “What?”

    “Wars leave many orphans. A lack of common blood in no way precludes love; you of all people would know that.” His tone grew lighter, a tentative smile carving the lines around his lips and eyes deeper. Nerr stared at him, at a point focused near his eyes. Her lips moved but no words came out, the words in her mind crashing into each other and forming a jumble too difficult to untangle. “Nerr?” The tremulous anticipation in his eyes dimmed a bit the longer the young woman remained silent. She had stopped trying to speak, trying to clench her teeth so tightly it hurt, but unable to keep her jaw from quivering. “Darling?” The turmoil bubbling within her exploded, violently. Nerr shoved her once retainer away with such force that the chair was almost knocked over.

    “You're giving up on me!!” She shrieked in a rage, angry tears flowing from her eyes unabated. Clutching the spot where she'd struck him, Gunther looked absolutely appalled.

    “What!? No! Nothing could be further from the truth!”

    “Yes you are, admit it!! I'm not as good as your bitch first wife because she could give you children and I can't! You didn't have to try with her!! You didn't have to get your hopes up, only to have them dashed every time! I'm not as good as her; I'll never be as good as her!” Her fury was quickly starting to lose steam, leaving her with nothing but guilt and shame and misery. “I'm trying, but it's not enough- it's never enough! It's so easy for everyone else. Why isn't it easy for me!? Why can't I give you this!?”

The anguish that Nerr had been holding back for hours broke free of the dam she'd tried to erect. The poise and grace and refinement a royal was meant to display at all times was forgotten as she wailed, tears oozing through her fingers as she covered her face. It was no wonder Gunther didn't want to bother with her pathetic attempts at conceiving anymore. This was much closer to the the norm than a deviation from it. She'd never lashed out at him directly before, but he had far too much to deal with to not have his patience worn thin by days of her loathsome self-pity. Large, strong arms wrapped around her, engulfing her in warmth.

    “I don't need you to give me anything, Nerr. I don't want anything more from you.”

    “Because you don't think I can give it to you! Or you just don't care!” She struggled against his embrace, hitting and clawing at every inch of flesh she could reach in a frantic effort to get away. “Go away! If I'm not good enough for you anymore, then just go away!! You don't need me; you don't want my child, so leave!!”

She was giving him his out. If he was tired of her, bored with this silly, worthless little girl who was more trouble than she was worth, he could just walk away now and that would be it. It would be her fault (just like everything else was); her siblings wouldn't question it. Camilla and Xander would be overjoyed, everyone else would chalk it up to a silly child's flight of fancy. Everything would be easier if he left. ...easier for him, and that was all that matter to Nerr. Despite her anger, her misery, she would understand. She didn't want to have to deal with her either. The arms around her shoulders did not withdraw, the chest beside her face did not pull away. If anything, they grew more claustrophobic, tightening and coming closer as Gunther shifted, sitting on the duvet beside her, drawing her in to lean against him. She could hear his heart beating, faster than it's usual steady rhythm. He rubbed her arm, resting his chin atop her head.

    “I need you, Nerr. More than food, or water, or breath itself. And because of that, I fear for you. Every time this happens, I'm afraid. You almost died the first time. ...what will I do if there's no 'almost' the next?” She could feel his voice more than hear it, and that was probably for the best. She didn't want to hear that tight, shaky whisper. She wanted him to be angry, disgusted at the gall of her, daring to be so ungrateful when any sane man would've left her months ago. Why couldn't he just be a bastard this once so she didn't feel so overwhelmingly terrible? Nerr sobbed, burying her face into the rough wool of his tunic. She had sewn it herself, months ago, with every intention of making a smaller version soon after, but there had been no point. It hurt, so much more than she wanted to admit, so much more than she felt she had the right to hurt.

Of Knights and Dragons: Chapter 3, Reflections

<Previous | xxx | Next>

The third installment of my Fire emblem anthology! I suppose you could say there are some spoilers regarding Jakob’s past.

As always, I hope you enjoy reading this!

Much Love

Keep reading