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arget-star · 4 months

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Night Owls

Relationships: Azura/Laslow

Gen Audiences/No Warnings Apply

This for the Day 3 Prompt of Fates Route Week, Night!

Dancing and stargazing as a love language :)

wc: 2,218 (also crossed posted to ao3!)

“So this is how you slip away so easily,” Azura says, her hand held tightly in Laslow’s as they sneak past the guard on duty.

“They’re not expecting people to leave,” he returns, running his thumb across her skin in an idle little gesture. Such expressions of affection still catch her off guard; the casual, thoughtless way he shows his love is something she’d always wished for but never expected.

There’s a beach about a half mile from where the army made camp. Amid all the preparations, he’d managed to pull her aside just long enough to steal a kiss and make her promise to meet him at his tent once twilight fell.

Now, she does her best to hide a smile. Most everyone knows of Laslow’s nocturnal tendencies, though he insists on maintaining secrecy. She can’t blame him, not when every single person in their army is hiding something.

The pendant weighs heavy around her neck.

Oblivious to her own inner thoughts, Laslow beams at her once they clear the camp perimeter. “Feels good to get away, no?”

“It does,” she readily agrees, giving his hand a squeeze before releasing it. Long arms stretch high above her head. “What mischief do you have planned for tonight, my muse?”

She’ll never tire of his hair-trigger blush, or the charming shade of pink that makes his cheeks glow.

“A-ahem! Milady, you wound me deeply. Thinking I’d only drag you out here for some form of nonsense. I thought you of all people would appreciate an evening spent by the ocean.”

Teasing him is just so easy. But she shows mercy, once again sliding her hand into his. “I do, love. More than I can say.”

Huffing, he threads their fingers together, resolutely keeping his gaze forward. “...You promise?”

She wants to huff a laugh of her own at his dramatics. Instead, she bites the inside of her cheek, unwilling to push him any further. “I promise.”

They walk side-by-side in relative silence, ducking under the sparse tree branches separating them from the coastline. Nocturnal animals begin stirring, rustling unseen in the bushes. For once, neither Laslow or Azura tense for an imminent attack. Everything here feels safe, untouched by the war ravaging the land.

They hear the ocean’s dull roar before they see it. Azura perks up immediately, pace quickening until she’s a few steps shy of tugging him along. He follows without complaint, merely happy to see her so excited.

The last orange rays of sunlight have faded into deep blue by the time they clear the treeline. White capped waves lap gently at the shore. He stops right before stepping onto the beach, releasing her so he can remove his boots. She gives him a cursory glance, attention drawn to the watery expanse right in front of them.

“I’m right behind you,” he laughs, watching her expression go from eager to luminous with joy. She bends gracefully, gathering the hem of her dress in one hand, then tiptoes across the sand, stepping into the water with a musical laugh.

He plops down, giving up on trying to yank his boots off while standing. One comes to rest next to him while the other remains half unbuckled. She’s radiant, relaxed, her stoic armor melting away into the surf.

He’d give anything to see her like this permanently.

Azura drops the gathered fabric of her dress in favor of letting her arms hang loose. She spins, water splashing, her hair flaring like a wind tossed wave. When she slows, her eyes find his.

“What’s taking you so long?”

“You look so beautiful.” No fancy line or exaggerated flourish. Only the simple, honest truth, reflected in the awe and love shining through his eyes.

Her cheeks heat. He disarms her so easily when he drops the flirtatious act. (A charming act all the same, she has reassured him.) “I…thank you.”

Laslow pulls his last boot off, then quickly rolls up his pant legs. The water is colder than he expected, a shiver tearing through him as he splashes to her side. “Heh, quite refreshing, no?”

“It’s perfect.”

He cranes his neck skyward while she sways in time with the waves. Scattered stars twinkle from the navy blue sky, a silent audience watching over them. It reminds him of nights spent alone under different constellations. How wonderful to share these new ones with someone he loves.

Azura wades over after a few minutes, resting her chin atop his shoulder.

“Dance with me?” He asks.

“Always.”

They face each other, standing calf deep in the water. “No holding back,” he whispers, placing his left hand on her waist, right hand clasping hers.

She only smiles in reply. His confidence has grown since the day she’d reprimanded him, like a flower blooming after finally receiving enough sunlight. With a light step, she pulls him into a waltz, her steps slow and sure. Laslow follows, lovestruck grin never leaving his face. They dance in time with the ocean, a gentle push and pull guided by the current.

Laslow releases her hip, holding their joined hands aloft while sending her into an elegant twirl. Water sprays him, though he pays no mind to the chill. A little discomfort is a price he’s more than willing to pay for her smile.

Breathless, she whirls back into his arms, hands braced against his chest, eyes alight. He pulls her closer, still swaying gently, dipping his head down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

She buries her face into his jacket, breathing in peppermint and lemon and brine. “I wasn’t singing.”

“Don’t need to be to capture my attention.”

She lifts her head, then reaches up to wipe a stray drop of water off his cheek. “I love you, Laslow.”

“I love you, Azura.” He turns his face, kissing her palm, and she hums softly. “Want to stargaze before we return?” His breath warms her skin, heating her from the inside out.

“Will you fall asleep this time?”

Playful indignation flashes in his eyes. “That was one time!”

Her laugh rings across the empty beach, music notes echoing over the waves. “You’re cute when you sleep. I don’t mind, really.”

That lovely blush blooms along his face as he pouts. “I’m always cute, thank you.”

“Yes, darling, you are.” She grabs his wrist, gently tugging him along. Already she misses the feel of water swirling around her ankles, the slow pull of the tide beckoning her ever deeper.

The anchor keeping her tethered follows her back onto solid ground, flopping dramatically down and propping himself up on an elbow. “Anything else you’d like to compliment me about?”

She steps around him, folding her legs underneath her and scooting close so he can lay his head across her lap. “Hmmm…I do love it when you blush.”

“Oho?” He wiggles a little, getting comfortable, eyelids already beginning to droop. “I’ll blush as often as you want if it means you’ll smile.”

Pink tinges her own cheeks. Damn him, for finding a way to turn it back on her. “…you make it easy.”

He hums in reply and lets his eyes fall shut. Azura looks skyward, watching the stars in their shimmering dance, the nearly-full moon reigning over them all.

Her hand lands in his hair, slowly stroking the silver strands. He sighs, utterly content. .

A question burns in her mind. She mulls it over for several moments, finally daring to break the peaceful quiet.

“Laslow,” she says softly, barely audible over the ocean’s gentle rumble.

“Hmm?” Sleepy, he blinks his eyes open, head lolling towards her stomach. “Time to head back, eh?”

Gods, how she wishes to live in this moment forever. To live a life full of leisurely evenings exactly like this, without fear of it ending come the dawn. “Not quite.” Lazy fingers curl strands of his hair. “One day, will you perform your mother’s dance for me?”

Brown eyes widen a fraction, surprise replacing drowsiness. She’s caught glimpses of it, namely the first day she stumbled upon him dancing in secret. But to see the entire thing, even just once…it’s something she’ll cherish for whatever time she has left.

Laslow swallows the emotion welling in his throat. “I’d be honored to have you as my audience. Do you want my version, or hers?” He reaches up, cupping her cheek in one cool palm. His wedding ring shines in the moonlight.

“You know I’d love to see both. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me.” Azura leans into his touch.

“Selfish girl,” he teases. The last person who’d seen him perform the whole thing was Mother, mere days before he was called away to Nohr. Planting his free hand in the sand, he pushes himself up until he’s eye level. “Of course I’ll dance for you.”

Moonlight outlines him in silver, turning his hair molten. Night suits him far better than the overbright sun. Azura drags her fingers forward, tracing his cheekbone, the outline of his lips. A question enters his eyes but he remains silent as she continues her exploration. Her nails lightly trace the curve of his jaw and his mouth quirks up into the ghost of a smile.

She closes the distance, kissing that smile softly, still cupping his face. He makes a happy little sound, reciprocating, lips soft against hers. An arm curls around her waist. There’s no urgency in their movements, only a desire to pretend they’re just two lovers enjoying a romantic midnight rendezvous.

He chases her when she breaks the kiss. Azura gives him one more peck. “We should get back,” she murmurs. He kisses the corner of her mouth.

“They’re used to us disappearing,” he returns with another kiss to her cheek.

“Laslow, sweetheart.”

A sigh puffs against her skin. “…I know. I just…who knows when we’ll have another night like this? Why not enjoy it as long as we’re able?”

Her heart breaks a little for this boy limned in moonlight. “We will. I enjoy every moment I’m by your side; no matter what.”

He knocks his forehead to hers. Naga, he loves her so much he sometimes thinks he’ll burst with it. “Thank you, Azura. Heh, all this uncertainty can really get to a guy!”

And there’s his optimistic armor. She nods, despite how she wishes things were different. “It gets to everyone. I wish we didn’t have to return, either. And until we no longer have our obligations, we’ll continue finding moments like these.”

He smiles, then—not the wide, bright thing he uses when he’s trying to be charming, but the soft, genuine one she so adores. “Deal.”

Stealing one final kiss, he stands, then offers her his hand. She accepts, pulling herself up in one fluid motion.

“Wait a moment! I nearly forgot!” He releases her hand and races down to where water meets sand, scooping up a handful of the wet stuff , poking through it with intense focus. Azura continues dusting sand off her dress, watching with fond bemusement. His child-like happiness for the littlest things always makes her heart swell. Curiosity makes her step a little closer, neck craning for a view.

“No peeking!”

She rolls her eyes but dutifully covers them. Water splashes, no doubt from him washing off his hands. Sandy footsteps approach. “Alright, you can look now.”

Her hand drops, attention falling onto his own outstretched palms. A small collection of near-perfect seashells glisten from their saltwater bath. “Oh, Laslow…” Delicate fingers pick one up, examining the lines of orange and white covering the surface. She turns it over, rubbing a thumb along the smooth expanse of purple fading into pink. “Beautiful. Thank you, love.”

“Of course, 'Zura! It’s a memory, y’know.”

“A memory?” She echoes, clasping the seashell to her heart.

“Yeah,” he returns, dropping the remaining shells into his pants pocket. They can look them over tomorrow; he’s finally starting to grow tired. “When I was younger, I collected things. Rocks, shells, feathers, things like that. I wanted to remember my adventures, and who was with me.” His voice sounds strained at the end, and he’s suddenly very interested in pulling on his boots instead of looking at her.

She knows his past is shrouded in fog, full of things he’s unwilling or unable to speak about. All she’s gleaned from past conversations is that he left people he deeply loved behind upon his arrival in Nohr. Odin and Selena are remnants from the time before, and equally closed off about their previous circumstances.

Azura will not press the issue. They’ll talk about it whenever they’re ready. She understands the desire to keep old wounds sealed, lest they begin bleeding afresh.

Laslow stands, summoning a smile. He’s more grateful than he knows how to articulate for her acceptance of his silence. She wraps a hand around his arm, sidling close to steal some of his warmth. Laslow briefly noses at her hair. Eventually, he’ll tell her everything. Eventually, he’ll ask her to come with him, for surely whatever magic brought him here can be extended to one more person.

But for tonight, he basks in her presence, soaking up every moment and tucking them neatly away in a mental box like he does the shells and rocks and feathers.

#char writes #azurlow #fe azura #fe laslow #azura/laslow #fire emblem fates #fire emblem fanfiction

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arget-star · 4 months

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The Future is Forgiven

Relationships: Nohr Siblings (Xander, Camilla, Leo, Elise)

Gen Audiences/No Warnings Apply

This for the Day 2 Prompt of Fates Route Week, Family!

While enjoying a ""leisurely"" afternoon, the Nohrian princes bond over a sparring match while their sisters cheer them on.

wc: 1,944 (also crossed posted to ao3!)

By Nohr’s standards, it’s a beautiful day. The thinned cloud cover allows weak rays of sunlight through, dappling the sparse grass in spots of light yellow. There’s a hint of summer on the air, promising brighter days ahead.

One such sunbeam cuts across the corner of the book propped in Leo’s lap, making the white pages glow. He shifts, adjusting his seated position underneath a large tree until the book no longer glares up at him. Rough bark digs into the space between his shoulder blades. Annoyed he’s no longer comfortable, he lifts his head, observing his siblings scattered across the training field.

Xander stands alone, proud, Siegfried held loosely in one hand. His chest heaves from practicing various forms with rigorous precision. Camilla sits primly atop a blanket laid over the haybales used for striking practice, her axe laid lengthwise across her lap. A whetstone runs rhythmically up the blade’s already deadly edge while Elise watches, asking a million questions about whatever topic has recently captured her attention. Something relating to being a lady, most likely, since Elise hasn’t pestered him about it.

Somehow, throughout the war, it had become an unofficial tradition for them to gather once a week. Neither the activity or day was set in stone; so long as they made a point of spending some measure of time together, it satisfied whatever arbitrary requirement had been laid out.

Leo is positive Camilla organized the whole thing without any of them quite realizing it. She’s far more cunning than anyone gives her credit for—especially when it comes to her family. And since he was not the one responsible for keeping the training grounds mysteriously clear, the only other person capable of instilling such a healthy dose of fear and respect in their army is Nohr’s eldest princess.

Their awe for Xander sometimes outweighs the more sensible respect. He would not risk alienating those serving him (and Corrin) by appearing vain in asking for some privacy while he trains.

He must sense Leo’s scrutiny, for he looks over one broad shoulder, expression less stern than usual. “Enjoying your book, Leo?”

The whetstone continues its metallic scraping, but Leo sees Camilla tilt her head in their direction from his peripheral vision. “I am, Xander, thank you.”

“What subject are you so enthralled with today?

It’s still jarring, interacting with a relaxed version of his normally stoic brother. Speaking of their interests not for the sake of competition or out of duty, but merely for a conversation between siblings.

(The little boy yearning for love, for acceptance, that still resides in Leo’s heart preens at the attention.)

Leo suspects this was Camilla’s ultimate goal.

Still, the younger prince hesitates. He’s sure his hobbies are already well known to Xander–observation was a skill hammered into all the Nohr royals from a young age. “...Botany,” Leo finally replies, letting the book fall shut with a muted thump. “Specifically, the unique flora found in Nohr.” Gloved fingers trace the title etched into the cracked leather cover. He should be going over strategy, dissecting mistakes from yesterday's battle, but it felt—not wrong, merely incongruent—to lug his notebooks and maps out here.

This is as close to leisure as any of them get.

Xander nods his acknowledgment, then plants Siegfried into the ground. A faint purple aura illuminates the great blade for a moment. It’s imposing, just like its wielder. A challenge tinges Xander’s expression.

“Come, Brother. I cannot recall the last time we sparred together. It is my duty to ensure you’re still polished.”

The whetstone ceases its song. She props her axe against the haybale, blade glinting menacingly in the weak sunlight. With sinuous grace, Camilla stands, mouth curled in amusement. “Now, promise me you two will take care of each other. I cannot have my only brothers sliced into ribbons.”

Nohrians are not known for training lightly; many a soldier has gained all manner of cuts and bruises from a sparring session.

Leo glances between his eldest siblings. Initial surprise fades, leaving only resigned acceptance in its place. He cannot deny Xander, no matter how much he wishes. Biting back a sigh, he removes the book from his lap, placing it neatly down, and pushes upright.

“Certainly.”

“Don’t look so dour about it,” Xander chides with something Leo might call amusement if he didn’t know better. “We will use wooden swords; this is a test of skill, not a battle to the death.”

A cynical eyebrow raises before Leo can stop it. There was certainly no difference in past mock fights; not that they had any choice as children used for political gain. He’d grown out of that lingering bitterness, but the insecurity refused to leech from his veins.

Elise, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet, finally bursts. “I’ve never seen you two spar each other! Ooooooo, I don’t know who I should cheer for!” She bounces in place, clapping her hands. Her enthusiasm pulls a chuckle from Xander, and even Leo softens.

Something crosses her mind, then, turning her serious, making it harder not to laugh when her cheeks puff out. “Wait! Wooden weapons still cause damage, and I left my staff in my tent. Pleaaaaaaaaase don’t do anything reckless, okay?”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Camilla replies, sauntering over to the rack of training weapons. “We’ll stop them if things get rowdy.” She selects two swords, examining them for splinters and cracks before deeming them worthy.

“Watch carefully, Elise. It will be good for you to learn a few things.” Xander accepts one weapon, testing the weight in his palm. Camilla lingers when handing off Leo’s; he gives a curious glance and she pats his shoulder, then strides away.

Frightening, how well she knows what goes on behind his impassive mask.

Old anxieties clamor for attention as he wraps his hand around the wooden sword’s hilt. The faint echo of his mother’s voice threads through, demanding more, do better, surpass that boy!

Leo tightens his grip. Settles into a fighting stance–knees bent, shoulder width apart, body angled. Xander’s form is, as ever, absolute perfection, not one movement wasted. They eye each other, taking in a dozen little details in the space of an inhale.

Stillness descends.

Exhale, and the stillness shatters like a pane of glass as Xander darts forward. Leo neatly sidesteps, fake blades knocking together with a stilted clack. Approval shines in Xander’s eyes. He pivots, sword held aloft.

On lighter feet, Leo edges into Xander’s reach, feinting left before quickly stabbing right. Xander catches it in time, batting away Leo’s sword in an effortless flick of his wrist. “You leaned into the stab before finishing the feint. Do not lack conviction even on false attacks.”

The younger prince shakes hair out of his eyes. “Understood.” There is nothing else he can say; he knew going in this was an assessment. Improvement matters far more than his petty irritation.

Seeing an opening, Xander attacks again, aiming for Leo’s exposed shoulder. Another sharp clack rings across the field as the wooden swords meet. There’s a cry of encouragement from Elise, though Leo can’t tell who it’s for.

He’d like to tell her not to waste her breath on him. Xander will win, it’s just a matter of how long Leo can hold his own. Neither of them are holding back—had his brother dared pull such an insulting ploy, Leo would have stalked away immediately.

They break apart, circling each other like wolves, falsely starting forward solely to make the other twitch. Xander finally commits, performing some elegant, sweeping arc Leo could never hope to imitate. He blocks it in time, shockwaves radiating up his arms from the force of the blow.

Quickly, he searches for a clever countermove, one that might give him a brief upper hand. Xander moves to step back and Leo seizes his advantage, ducking underneath the wooden sword and lightly tapping his own weapon against Xander’s ribcage.

Surprise ripples across stern features. A breath of a laugh escapes Xander, true satisfaction softening the corners of his mouth. He keeps his guard up. “Well done, Leo.”

“GOOOOO BIG BROTHER!!!” Elise yells. Camilla offers muted applause.

Wary, Leo spares his sisters a dip of his chin, attention still mostly focused on Xander. “Do you yield?”

“Not yet.”

His attacks come faster now. He’s not teaching any longer; every blow is meant to land. Leo keeps the first handful at bay, giving up precious ground in doing so. Scowling, he opts to mount his offense, aiming for a simple yet effective horizontal slice across Xander’s stomach. Easy enough to block, which would set up the follow-through for a jab or a fake blow to the neck.

The first half goes according to plan. Xander easily knocks aside the slice, stepping back as Leo anticipated. Younger prince flicks up the sword, only to meet empty air. Brows furrow in confusion just as he feels a blunt sword tip land squarely at his back.

“Do you yield?” Xander asks, voice even despite his heavy breathing.

Leo swallows. Lowers his weapon. “I yield.”

The pressure at his back disappears. A tangled knot of emotions settles in his stomach—relief, disappointment, apprehension. Their sisters are quiet, though he can feel their eyes on him.

Xander’s throat clears. Leo uproots himself from his spot, finally turning to witness his family’s reactions to his pitiful display.

Camilla looks immensely satisfied, like her wyvern relaxing in a rare patch of sunlight. Barely contained excitement practically spills from Elise, who is kept in check by Camilla’s arm around her thin shoulders. He steels himself for whatever disapproval he’ll find on Xander’s face. At last he meets his brother’s gaze, inner turmoil tucked neatly away behind a mask of perfect composure.

There is no derision. No trace of the disappointment he expects. Only a quiet pride evident in the curve of Xander’s smile, the faint flush sitting high on his cheeks. “Well fought, Leo. Your reflexes are as sharp as I remember.” A lock of hair lays flat against his forehead. His circlet is just askew enough that Leo can notice it, and the reminder that his infallible brother is human shocks him more than the compliment.

“...thank you, Xander.” Sweat trickles down his temples in time with the pleasant feeling blooming inside his chest. They stare at each other, letting their adrenaline fade with every labored breath. Something unspoken passes between them—a realization that neither of them are the boys they once were.

Elise barrels out of nowhere, knocking into Leo, sending him stumbling back a step. She hugs him fiercely, and he drops the wooden sword, returning her embrace. Camilla appears at Xander’s side.

“Well, I say we need some tea after all this excitement. Are you two done?”

Leo looks up from where Elise clings to him. Later, he’ll attempt to draw the truth out of her, if she’d hoped he and Xander would make the first moves towards settling whatever broken thing frays strains their relationship.

Drawing himself fully upright, Xander smooths his wrinkled shirt. “Even the crown prince can find time for a brief break.”

“Nothing too sweet this time, please,” Leo acquiesces. Elise squeals in delight, untangling herself from Leo.

“But the kind you like is so bitter!”

“You and I will have something more suited for our tastes, dear Elise.” Camilla soothes, returning empty-handed from the weapons rack. Xander makes for the tree Leo had been sitting underneath earlier. Younger prince trails after him, watching in silence as Xander bends, retrieving the discarded book.

He brushes a stray blade of grass off the cover and hands it to Leo.

#char writes #fire emblem fates #fire emblem fanfiction #fe xander #fe leo #fe elise #fe camilla

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