#FE:TH
Note
I just found your blog and I am EXTREMELY IN LOVE with how you write Claude. Thank you so much 🙏🙏🙏
If you take request, I'd love to see a jealous Claude of some sort. Or Claude having a crush on you and he wants to be very tactical about it but fails because for once he also stumbles over his words.
~🌻🌻🌻
Hello Sunflower anon! I promise I hadn't forgotten your ask, I just didn't want to respond until I had something to show for it. Now, here it is! Hope you enjoy! :)
Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52063906
Out of the corner of his eye, Claude found himself watching you.
The Leicester Alliance might not have been as...enthusiastic in their celebrations as the kind of feasts that went down in Almyra, but they still knew how to host a party when the situation called for it. The buffet table groaned with a banquet of food that would have been unthinkable just a year or so ago and everyone was dressed in their best outfits, determined to finally enjoy some splendour after fighting their way through some of the bleakest days in living memory.
You were working the room, the goldenrod gown you were wearing rustling across the polished marble floors. He wondered if you had picked out that colour for any particular reason – was it simply because it looked nice on you, or was it some kind of message? A code, if you will.
“A woman’s outfit isn’t just for practicalities, Claude!” He heard Hilda’s voice chiming in his head, something she’d told him once in the old days at the Academy, when he’d once asked why she bothered to wear perfume and earrings to a mock battle. “When you pick out your clothing, you’re making a statement about who you are! And not just the girls – look around you sometime if you don’t believe me!”
He’d been sceptical of this claim initially, but after that conversation, Claude had found himself paying closer attention to how his fellow Golden Deer and other students wore their uniforms and had been both surprised and intrigued to see that Hilda had been right. It was in the little things, like Hilda’s skirt being as short as she could possibly get away with without incurring the wrath of Seteth, while Marianne made sure her uniform covered as much as herself as possible, like she was using the fabric to hide in. Then you had Sylvain with his sleeves rolled up and his hair messy, like he’d just rolled out of bed and couldn’t be bothered to button up the cuffs or front of his jacket. Then you had Lorenz and that ridiculous rose he always wore pinned to his lapel…
Speaking of Lorenz and his questionable choice in accessories, Claude spied the man himself across the room…and there you were, laughing at something he was saying.
An unfamiliar knot of irritation tightened in Claude’s chest, which was ridiculous…Lorenz was your old classmate, after all, so why wouldn’t you be catching up with him? There was plenty to catch up on, after all, especially now that the wore was officially over and Fodlan could breath a sigh of relief…
Yet he still didn’t like the way Lorenz was staring at you, like he’d discovered a rare new species of flower or bird. No doubt you looked even more lovely close up, but Claude wondered if you remembered what Lorenz used to be like around female students at Garreg Mach, to the point that Teach herself had to step in. As the sun poured into the room, catching on the jewellery you were wearing around your neck and in your ears, Claude couldn’t help but wonder what you had been thinking when you chose them, if each item was a tool in your arsenal to be deployed at the key moment…
“Stare, much?”
Claude jolted and turned to see Hilda, who was unsurprisingly in a resplendent pink gown that was clinging lovingly to her curves – if she was trying to convey a message with her outfit, then “Look at me!” seemed to be the end result.
“Hilda!” Claude greeted her, shooting her an easygoing smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “I see that you’re already enjoying the festivities.”
“Oh, there’s plenty to enjoy around here,” Hilda said airily. “But I have to say, you’re not looking as happy as the hero of the hour should be. Are you wishing you’d stayed home in Almyra?”
It was still so strange to hear the other half of him spoken aloud so casually, when he’d been hiding it so painstakingly for five years. Yet it came with an undeniable surge of relief.
“My home is here and Almyra.” Claude replied diplomatically. “Anyway, you think I’d pass up an opportunity to see everyone all together again?”
“Hmm, that’s true.” Hilda nodded, sipping from her glass of champagne. “This is a prime time to start forging diplomatic relations, isn’t it? Looks like those two over there are already making inroads.”
Hilda tilted her head, pink hair slipping off her shoulder, an amused little smile playing about her lips, like she knew something Claude didn’t. She’d always been able to see through him, and vice versa.
So no doubt Hilda had noticed the way that, no matter who Claude was talking to, his eyes kept wandering back to you, tracking you all about the ballroom as though he was worried that the moment he wasn’t making sure you were still there, you might just disappear.
“I thought the war taught you that sometimes you can’t just stand back and watch before you make a move.” Hilda remarked.
“It did.” Claude replied evenly, his green eyes growing half-lidded as Lorenz put his hand on your waist.
“Then go and talk to her! It’s not cute to stand around pouting at your age, you know.”
“Ha! You’re one to talk – you’ll be pouting to get your way until you’re an old lady.” Claude said, imagining an eighty-year-old Hilda in pigtails. “And I know.”
“Good, because it’s so exhausting trying to play matchmaker.” Hilda said, with an affected hair toss, before she spotted someone across the room and gave them a dainty little wave, her fingers fluttering.
“Oh, there’s Caspar! I promised him a dance!” she lilted, before swanning away, the scent of her perfume wafting behind her – Claude caught a whiff of anemones.
“Bet that’s not all you promised.” He murmured under his breath.
Nevertheless, Claude heeded her advice, because as spacy as she might have liked to seem, Hilda was a startlingly perceptive woman under her ditzy attitude. He strode across the room, boots clicking on the polished floors, surging ahead before he could start doing what he always did. Running through various scenarios in his head like he was figuring out his next move in chess, making contingency plans, scheming. It was his fall-back from when he was a scrawny young boy, hiding in the shadows from those who sought to harm him that he couldn’t possibly retaliate against physically. Old habits died hard, despite everything.
“Lorenz! I see your fashion sense has improved since our school days! Well, somewhat.” Claude said in a cheery voice as he approached the two of you. “Remember how people used to ask if you’d tried to cut your hair with an axe?”
“May I remind you, Claude, that you wore the same uniform as me back then?” Lorenz sighed, but it lacked the genuine irritation it once did.
“I see you still like yellow, though.” You said to Claude, turning your head to smile at him, though that smile was teetering on being a smirk.
Claude’s mouth went dry.
“So do you.” He replied. He didn’t mean to say that; it just popped out before he could stop himself. It was unlike Claude to be so concise with his wording, he had always tended to err on the side of verbosity, yet…
Your smile widened and heat spread across your cheeks, and his own mouth curved in a smirk.
“Yes, well, we were just about to dance-“ Lorenz said haughtily, seeming not to notice your reaction to Claude’s comment, and the latter gave a wince of faux-sympathy.
“Ooh, sorry, Duke of Gloucester, but she already promised the next one to me. Did she not say? Ah, for shame, my lady!”
“Oh, right, yeah,” you said, before quickly turning your head to Lorenz. “Apologies, do excuse me. But you know, if you’re looking for a dance partner, why not ask Marianne? She’s been standing over there by herself a while, it would probably be nice for her to see a face she recognises.”
“Ah, yes, what a good idea!” Lorenz said, his face brightening at the suggestion, turning to look across the ballroom. “I had to speak with her about Margrave Edmund’s proposition…”
He wandered off, still muttering under his breath, though it was obvious neither you nor Claude cared whatsoever what he was talking about. Instead, Claude offered a hand with a slightly mocking edge to it, unable to resist bucking against convention.
“Shall we?”
You accepted his hand and he lead you into the middle of the room where several people were dancing, and he saw Hilda shoot him a grin as Caspar somewhat clumsily whirled her around in a blur of pink and blue. Claude rested one of his hands on the small of your back and though the contact was hardly anything risqué, it still sent a bolt of delight through you.
“So you really did mean to dance.” You remarked, falling into step with him almost without thinking about it.
You’d been instructed how to dance for formal events like this by your parents when you were younger and as much of an irritating chore as they’d felt at the time, it was like second nature now.
“What else could I have meant?” Claude replied, lifting one hand to twirl you around. “I could have challenged you to a duel, I suppose, but neither of us seem dressed for the occasion.”
“Well, for a second there, I thought you were just going to start grunting and throw me over your shoulder.” You teased, as he pulled you in again. “That was quite the glare you were giving Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.”
“Do you want to be thrown over my shoulder?” Claude asked, tilting his head. “Or would that put a dampener on all your schmoozing?”
“Forging important political alliances, you mean.” You corrected Claude with a smirk. “Goodness, Claude. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”
“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were purposefully trying to induce a little jealousy.” Claude replied, eyes sliding down to your lips.
You tilted your chin up, defiantly.
“And if I was?”
There was a small silence, a verbal gauntlet thrown down, and Claude looked at you with an expression that made your insides twist. He reached his free hand out and twined a lock of your hair around his finger, his expression thoughtful.
“Then I’m afraid you’re just going to have to suffer the consequences.”
~
“Claude…Claude!”
You were sweating. Heated kisses and a warm, muscular body pressing you to the wall would do that to a person. Along with the fact that you were only on the other side of the room from the entire ballroom – if somebody left to get a little fresh air, for example, they might well stumble on the scene of the new Duke of House Riegan kissing you against the wall like a naughty schoolboy. You pulled back, feeling a little dazed.
“I know you like to make risky moves, Claude, but isn’t this a bit much?” you said, a touch breathlessly.
Claude laughed softly, breath tickling your cheek as he moved in closer, pressing his lips to your neck.
“I consider the pros to outweigh the cons in this specific scenario.” He replied in a murmur.
“Which are?” You giggled.
“Pros: I get to put my hands on you,” Claude replied, sucking hard on the skin of your throat, making you gasp. “Cons: Someone might see me put my hands on you.”
“Then why are you doing this in a place where the cons could become a real possibility?” You asked, though you knew the answer already – you just wanted to know if he’d admit to it.
“If you want a gamble to have the best possible payoff, then you have to make sure the risk is big enough.” Claude replied with a wry smile, his fingers squeezing your hips. “Anyway, I didn’t hear you doing much maidenly protesting. Though your mouth was quite occupied at the time…”
You laughed and pulled him down for another kiss, because he was quite right, of course – knowing that other people were there, mooning for someone else across the room but not daring to make a move, or chastely dancing together while secretly wishing they could do so much more, gave you an adrenaline rush you hadn’t felt since you were standing on a battlefield so many months ago. These thrills were less likely to come with the potential cost of your life, but they were exciting in an entirely new way.
“Claude…” you mumbled, leaning into him, resting your hands on his chest, feeling his heart pounding against your palms. It was true you’d wanted to get his attention today – he’d been away in Almyra for months and you’d missed him. Missed his laugh, the easy way he could banter with just about anyone, the sharp line of his jaw and the particular shade of green of his eyes…perhaps going around in a dress the same colour as that cape of his was a little on the nose, but it seemed to have worked.
“Mm?” he seemed preoccupied with your earrings, taking one and giving it a playful little tug, an emerald sparkling between his teeth.
“How long exactly is the hero of the Leicester Alliance expected to stay at the ball until he can flee into the sunset?” you asked, tilting your head.
"Flee? Is that how you see me? Some coward who's always running away at the drop of a hat?” Claude asked, holding a hand to his chest in a parody of shock. "I'm not Bernadetta!"
“I wouldn’t call you a coward,” you said, then paused. “But you do tend to rush from place to place without giving people a chance to say goodbye.”
Understanding dawned across his face, and he ran his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle.
“I had things to do. But I always intended to come back.” He said, simply. It wasn’t easy feeling torn between two things all the time, but he had hope that now, he could finally act as a whole for the first time in his life.
“Still, a word or two would have been nice…” You said, a little churlishly, unwilling to melt under his touch just yet, not wanting to give up your grievances so easily. You didn’t consider yourself the type to be pining over anyone, but Claude von Riegan wasn’t just anyone.
And here was something you loved about Claude, one of the many things – instead of getting exasperated or defensive at your stubbornness, your unwillingness to just sink into the moment, into him, a slow smile spreads across his face, honey-sweet.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He cooed, cupping your face. “Did you miss me that much?”
The sting of his teasing was mitigated by the way he kissed you next, soft and sensually, the scruff of his beard rubbing against your skin, but you didn’t care, you were too busy kissing him back, lips tingling, sighing against him as his hands squeezed your waist like he didn’t want to let go.
“You know, I think I might be able to make it up to you.” Claude said breathlessly, when you both finally paused for ear. Some of your lipstick was smudging his face and a perverse stab of pride poked you at the sight of it. “If you’re willing, that is.”
“That depends on what it is,” you replied, your lips tingling. You knew you were smiling despite your grumpy tone.
“Oh, you’ll like it. But we’d have to get on my wyvern to see it.” Claude replied, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “Think of it as an adventure.”
An adventure with Claude sounded…well, even a casual conversation with Claude could be exciting, he was the kind of person who could talk about any subject. But to be whisked away into the unknown made your stomach perform a swooping feeling, almost a pre-emptive recreation of what sitting atop a dragon was like.
“So am I being kidnapped now?” You said with an excited giggle, the possibilities opening up to you suddenly making this spacious corridor seem like a prison you’re about to break free from, and Claude laughed back. “Will you stop and write out a ransom first?”
“You know what us Almyrans alike. We just can’t resist something pretty to take for our own.” He teased, pulling your flush against him. “What do you say we have a real celebration?”
His eyes glinted with mischievous intent, reminding you sharply of the emerald earrings you’d carefully slotted into your ears as you were dressing for the ball. You leaned into his embrace, breathing in the scent of Claude, parchment and cloves and pine needles.
“That’s fine with me. I don’t mind being stolen.” You whispered back to him, and his answering kiss sealed the deal.
#claude von riegan#claude x reader#Fire Emblem Three Houses#FE:TH#Fire Emblem x Reader#Writings#claude von riegan x reader
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Not dropping names, but there's an idiot who made a soap carving of their husband for some minor subject's midterms 🤦
#no I'm a stem student and no idk wtf im doing last time i tried to carve soap was grade 9. Which is like. 5 years ago.#$ brynn's mistakes#$ brynn's papers#My hands have been looking like I killed some ripoff danganronpa character#Dimitri#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd#fe:th#$ s-support = dimitri
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"Thanks to you, I’m beginning to feel more comfortable talking to people."
Ok, I know I say this about every character, but... Marianne, my beloved!!!!!
She is so incredibly kind and gentle, and truly only wants the best for her friends. Her growth throughout the game is so wonderful, and one thing I really appreciate in her arc is that she isn’t “cured” of her fears and lack of confidence - she continues to struggle at times, but also continues to put in the work to believe in herself!
#fire emblem#fe3h#fire emblem: three houses#fe:3h#fe:th#marianne von edmund#fire emblem marianne#golden deer#my art#marianne is the character I'm most like irl so i want to put her in my pocket and keep her safe#also hi :) i'm alive
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part ii of my @nagamas gift for @/fireboxemblem
a small dimidue drabble
---
disentangle
He could never say no to him. He never would say no to him. Even when he believed with every fiber of his being that this was not the way things should be.
But he could not still his hand as it slid through Dimitri’s hair, settling it against his head and neck. The wind had riled it up on their walk over to the Goddess Tower, snowflakes long-melted as they trudged up the stairs. Now they looked upon the broken monastery and the shadowed lands beneath it. Dimitri’s hair felt damp against his hand.
“You hesitate, Dedue.” He pushed against his hand, palm to his scalp. “Even now.”
Dedue had no response that Dimitri had not heard before. This conversation took place often, but every time Dedue was quicker to give in. To let himself touch Dimitri, to pull him close, to protect him. To give him what he needed. The hesitancy was his last line of defense before he could no longer just be Dimitri’s vassal. Before they were entangled and duty drove him no longer.
Dimitri covered Dedue’s hand with his own and pulled him closer to the open window where snow was still falling, occasionally blowing into the room. The sky was the glowing darkness of a snowy evening, backlit by moonlight and the fires roaring inside Garreg Mach. It would be peaceful, in another time. Now, it was melancholy. Bittersweet. Tinged with memories of their academy days.
But even through reverie Dedue felt the magnetic pull of Dimitri, he turned toward the window, Dedue’s hands followed and fell to his shoulders, sliding down to his forearms, and continuing to embrace him from behind. He was stiff and awkward as always, but all it took was Dimitri melting back into him, letting him carry some of his weight, trusting him enough to fall back into him, to let him relax. He pressed his face into his hair and tugged him closer.
“Do you enjoy this?” He could hear the slight smile in Dimitri’s voice.
“Yes.” Dedue had to hold his tongue, to note that this was not in Dimitri’s best interest either way, it always soured his mood. He couldn’t think of any other way to say it to make him understand. He used to be so resolute, but especially when they were alone like this, maybe it was okay to let it happen. To give in. “Do you, your highness?”
Dimitri spluttered and squeezed Dedue’s arm in mock anger. “You must call me Dimitri while you hold me.”
“Yes, Dimitri.”
They were silent for a long while, sharing their warmth, protected by their furred cloaks and their desire to stay just a moment more. Dedue tried not to ponder on what this would mean in the future, when the war was won and Dimitri would reign as king. It would be harder to disentangle their hearts.
“I do,” Dimitri said quietly, turning his head against Dedue’s chest. “I do like this. And your thoughts are so loud.”
“We must always be thinking ahead. Preparation and planning have gotten us this far.” He tilted down, resting his lips briefly on Dimitri’s head.
“It’s becoming easier to stay in the moment,” Dimitri’s words were slow but sure, like he was discovering this thought for himself as well. “With you. Stay in the moment with me, Dedue.”
Dedue smiled against his hair. “Yes, Dimitri.”
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I’ve gotta immortalize this moment of my brothers
#fire emblem#fe:th#it was the fact that he was so srs made me die out laughing#he said if Felix is gonna be with a guy it should be Ashe or Dimitri 😂
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I love Hubert so much. When Edelgard used Count Varley (Bernadetta’s shitbag dad) to revive the Southern Church which led to him being targeted for assassination by Rhea and co. Hubert’s just like “how tragic, whoever could have seen this coming?” 😈 😈 😈 😈 😈
#fe3h#fe#fire emblem#three hopes#fire emblem three hopes#Hubert is so evil and I am LIVING for it#I hope Varley actually gets assassinated it would be funny#FE16#FETH#FE:TH#FE:3H
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I don't have a Switch anymore so I can't play Three Hopes but last night I dreamt that part of the plot was Claude had started secretly throwing people in a lake and when I figured out something was wrong and asked him if everything was okay he grabbed me and also threw me in the lake
#true love#Fire Emblem: Three Hopes#Claude von Riegan#my golden husband#fe:th#fake gamer girl#dream journal
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day 23 of @flufftober: POV outsider
fire emblem: three houses
f!Byleth x Manuela
Verdant Rain Moon, 1180
Hanneman was already late to his meeting with Manuela and Byleth to discuss their curriculum for the next few weeks. Lateness did not come to him naturally, but it was easier when he had help from Annette and Linhardt to misplace his belongings. He bet he still made it to the meeting before Manuela did though. And that was some small consolation.
He finally found the smaller, rougher bound book with his recent notes in it hidden underneath some scrolls and inkwells on his shelf. Shaking his head he wondered whether it was Lindhardt's forgetful and blasè perusal through his collection of tomes or Annette's frantic energy when she helped him write up more legible notes that lead him to this moment as he rushed down the hall and to the left, leading to the large but private meeting room.
"My apologies," he began as he pushed the heavy door open, but what he saw beyond the threshold made him pause. Not only was Manuela there, but she was seated so close to Byleth that they were touching shoulders. And Byleth had one hand pointing at the page in the book that lay between them, her other hand barely rested against Manuela's, their fingertips brushing each other. Both of them had smiles on their faces.
But the noise broke them apart, Byleth scooted away and ushered Hanneman to sit in the seat next to her. "Good morning! Manuela was just answering a question I had, but we're ready to talk about the curriculum if you are," she said it with a little too much ease, and a quick small grin in Manuela's direction that left Hanneman feeling like he was missing something.
He stared at them a moment longer before digressing and taking his seat next to Byleth. Manuela was being uncharacteristically quiet, and it occurred to him that maybe he interrupted a more serious conversation. Matters of the heart, perhaps? As it always was with Manuela, and Byleth was surely a better confidante than himself.
Hanneman cleared his throat, opened up his notebook and began discussing his planned changes to next week's set of assignments, knowing that Manuela and Byleth could finish their conversation later.
—
Ethereal Moon, 1180
They had only made it halfway through the ball when Hanneman noticed that Manuela was absent. He rolled his eyes and scanned the room, hoping she just went to get a drink, but knowing that she probably swept up some knight and ushered him away. Of the four chaperones, he saw Seteth hovering a few footsteps away from Flayn (as per usual), not too close to draw her ire, but close enough to fix any young man with a dangerous glare. He then moved his gaze over to Byleth who was talking to Marianne and Leonie, gesturing toward her head and the exit, as if she was saying she felt ill and was intending to leave. He watched her nod apologetically a few more times before she slipped out the door.
And Manuela was still nowhere in sight.
Hanneman huffed and set off at a brisk pace to go find her. With Byleth gone and all of the knights still out on assignment, they needed every chaperone they could get here, Manuela's love life be damned. He made a bee-line to the Goddess Tower, knowing the rumors that spread throughout the monastery every year around Establishment Day and that Manuela--a hopeless romantic--would be there with whomever she scooped up this time.
His lungs and legs burned with his quick pace, followed by an ascent up the stairs. He wanted to be back before Seteth took notice that he was the lone chaperone. Manuela was so lucky he was coming after her to keep her out of trouble. As he slowed down for the last few steps, he heard a curious voice from the top of the stairs.
"Manny." It was Byleth. "You don't have to answer now."
Manny? As in Manuela? He heard the unmistakable sniffles of Manuela in tears and he felt a wave of dread and hot rage. He was probably hearing something he shouldn't be, but if Byleth was the one to make her cry--
"And whatever you choose, I'll be here for you, no matter what." Well now he was just hopelessly confused. What kind of question would prompt Manuela to cry? And why would Byleth care so much about the answer, but not change her perception of her? Maybe Manuela was dating Jeralt? And Byleth was just protecting her father?
Now he was just speculating on something he should not be hearing, something he should not be a part of. This is how rumors start. Hanneman hastily turned and descended the stairs as quietly as he could, eager to rid himself of the guilt of eavesdropping and thinking the worst of Manuela.
When he returned to the ball, two-thirds of the students remained and Seteth seemed unperturbed as he fetched Flayn another cup of water from the refreshment table. Hanneman got himself a drink and a small dessert to try and calm his nerves, this was nothing that peach sorbet couldn't fix.
As he finished his last bites of sorbet, he saw Manuela waltz back into the room, her eyes were less red and puffy than he expected, and she actually had a smile on her face. She spoke to Ferdinand and Lorenz in her normal over-the-top manner, as if she hadn't been crying a few minutes ago. Whatever had happened in the Goddess Tower, it seemed as if it ended okay for her and Hanneman hoped that was true. As obnoxious as Manuela could be, she did deserve to be happy.
—
Guardian Moon, 1185
He could not overstate his joy in returning to the monastery after the last 5 years. It felt like something was finally changing, hopefully in their favor. As soon as he and Manuela had received word from Claude, they immediately packed up and headed back to their old home. What Claude had failed to tell them was that someone else was waiting for them when they got there.
As they walked into the entrance hall of the monastery, an achingly familiar flash of light green entered his vision followed by a shriek from Manuela beside him. She dropped the two small bags she was carrying (compared to the 5 bags he was carrying, most of which were hers) and sprinted in a way he did not think she was capable of into the arms of Byleth, alive and well.
He set down his bags as well and approached his fellow professors, happy that they were all together again, though he had endless questions for Byleth about where she went and how her crest fit into all of this. After placing a curious kiss on the top of Manuela's head, Byleth let the other woman go and wrapped her arms around Hanneman next. He did not expect to receive a hug, he wasn't a fan of physical affection by any means, but seeing Byleth after thinking her dead for so long, things like that didn't matter.
"It's good to see you," he told her as he pulled away.
"More than good," Manuela continued for him, sounding on the verge of tears again. He quickly dug around in his pocket and offered her his handkerchief which she accepted gratefully.
"It's more than good to see you too, both of you," Byleth looked between them and wrapped her arms around Manuela again as she started to sob earnestly into her shoulder.
When it looked like Manuela wasn't going to stop any time soon, he cleared his throat and announced he would take their bags to their offices. Byleth nodded and waved, her other hand carding through Manuela's hair.
As he walked away, balancing a few bags precariously in his arms, he heard Byleth mumble, "Let's go take a walk, Manny."
Followed by Manuela's soft but shaky voice, "For so long, I thought--I thought I was alone again."
Hanneman quickened his steps, feeling that he was hearing something he shouldn't again. Alone? How could Manuela feel alone? She had Dorothea, Flayn, Seteth, the opera company, himself--but come to think of it, as the war started, when they lost Byleth and Rhea, Manuela had become a dourer version of herself. She rarely spoke of any impending suitors, or her future as an unmarried woman, which were some of her favorite topics when they were all still professors. She never went out on dates as far as he knew, they mostly just kept their heads down and worked on whatever helped aide Claude and the Leicester Alliance in the war effort. She seemed the most happy and like her old self when she was singing or helping in the medical tents and offices.
He felt ashamed that he hadn't seen it for what it was then. They were all suffering but Hanneman underestimated what Byleth meant to Manuela and didn't comfort her when she needed it most. He sighed and placed Manuela's bags in the infirmary, then walked across the hall to begin unpacking his bags. As he pulled tome after tome, he vowed to do better. They all needed to be strong for each other.
—
Pegasus Moon, 1186
Well color him absolutely flabbergasted.
"You're asking me what?" He grabbed his monocle and began cleaning it furiously with his handkerchief, as if that would help him hear the request better.
Byleth laughed nervously and cleared her throat. "I said, I'm going to ask for Manuela's hand in marriage. And I would like your blessing, if you will give it."
Hanneman stopped and stared at his monocle in his hand for a long while. "Marriage," he repeated. "You're going to ask for her hand in marriage? Does she even know your intentions? That you'd like to be involved with her... romantically?"
She let out a much louder, much surer laugh. A guffaw. Not a noise he would expect from the ruler of Fodlan.
"What's the matter?" he demanded, placing his monocle back on his eye.
"Nothing," she covered her mouth while she let a few more giggles escape. "It's just that I'd hope she would know my intentions by now. I've made them very clear to her since before the war, when we were all still professors."
Hanneman felt time slow to a crawl. Before the war? Was he really that dense? But that closeness he witnessed, the kisses he assumed were platonic, something women who were close did, were more. He rubbed his forehead, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
"But maybe I didn't make them clear enough since you didn't notice, and you're her best friend." If he didn't know Byleth as well as he did, he would think her blank face and delivery were serious, but he could hear the teasing in her voice and he groaned internally.
"In my defense, there were bigger things to worry about. A war, for one," he tried, shaking his head when Byleth smiled widely at him. He turned to the window instead so he could focus on getting the words out and send Byleth on her way so he could bond with his tomes in peace. "I'm honored that you and Manuela regard me so highly, and I'm honored to give you my blessing to be wed."
And it was true. They did not need his permission to get married, but the fact that Byleth was here asking him tugged at his heart strings. She walked over to stand beside him, taking in the bustling city below and the brilliant blue sky overhead. She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"Thank you, Hanneman," she said softly, as if she could sense the burning in the back of his throat at the pride and affection he was feeling. "It means a lot to both of us."
He nodded then took a deep breath and waved her off. "Okay, there are correspondences I must get to. I'll see you at brunch tomorrow."
"Alright, take care," she responded with a smile and left his office with a wave.
Hanneman took another few moments at the window to regain his composure, but he knew he was already doomed. If he was already at the point of tears just talking about Byleth and Manuela's wedding, then he'll definitely be bawling his eyes out at the ceremony itself.
—
Garland Moon, 1187
What he expected to be a grand ceremony was actually quiet and cozy. Byleth and Manuela were married in the ruins of the Garreg Mach cathedral. He sat next to Seteth and Flayn and he did, in fact, cry but not as much as Flayn. He dug around in his cloak for his extra handkerchief and handed it to her. When she accepted it gratefully, he watched her pass it to Seteth who was also tearing up.
When the ceremony was finished, they all retired to the gardens as the sun set. Food was still being prepared in the Garreg Mach kitchens, but he was able to snatch a few appetizers for himself before the plates were picked clean. He hadn't seen everyone since the war ended, he was able to catch up with Linhardt, Lysithea, and Annette as well as the rest of his former house and the students from other houses. They had all grown so much and he wished they didn't have to do it in the shadow of war.
As he excused himself to go grab a drink, he walked into the dining hall and passed by the door that led out to the pond and greenhouse and he heard a sharp, "Hanneman! Hanneman! Get over here!" He poked his head out of the door and saw Byleth and Manuela leaning against what was left of the stone wall next to the stairs. They had a bottle of wine between them and three glasses.
A beverage, indeed. He walked out to greet them, they looked unimaginably happy and glowing and it felt infectious. "Is this where all the wine went?"
"Haha, Hanny," Manuela replied, apparently already a few glasses in since he had never heard that nickname before. She rested her head on Byleth's shoulder who snaked an arm around her. "Come have a drink."
Hanneman grabbed the last glass and Byleth tipped the bottle toward it, when it was full they all clinked the glasses together. "To the happy couple."
"And to the friendships that got us through the darkest times," Byleth added before they all took a swig.
Hanneman smiles around the rim of his cup, feeling relieved that they could experience this all together without the fear of war on the horizon, feeling lucky to have these two amazing women in his life, and feeling so happy for them to have found each other.
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my new favorite fire emblem three houses character
girl who stands near the graveyard in chapter 8 and says "Hello." and nothing else
(1) objectively the least problematic character in three houses
(2) objectively the cutest character in three houses
(3) objectively the deepest and most interesting character in three houses (why is she saying "Hello."???? what are her secrets??? where's she from??? what house is she in????? why's she near the graveyard???????)
(4) put her in fire emblem heroes. Hello Girl for CYL
#fe3h#fire emblem three houses#fe16#fe:th#fire emblem#HELLOGIRLSWEEP#hellogirlforcyl#hello girl for fire emblem heroes
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Oh yeah got this stellar screenshot of lindhardt
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every time i log onto my switch and see you on three houses it makes me absolutely thrilled, like 100% same i inserted that game into my brain at mach 5 speed
I kept seeing you on at the same time as me and I was always like. we're playing games together c: even if we're playing different things and haven't communicated at all lol
I bought the game a few days ago and I have like.... 50 hours on it or something. I went into the series blind so I'm like HMM learning all about you guys, suspicious about everyone's motivations. I'm in blue lions and I'm just, Dimitri what's your deal?? oh Felix is a jerk to everyone I like him (right off the bat Felix is like hey fuck Dimitri and I'm like. I think I trust Felix on this), Ashe is adorable we bonded. Actually I've bonded to all of them.
I have so many more hours left.
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So when the Ashen Wolves banner was first announced…
I said “Well ACTUALLY the ideal would be a +10 Yuri but there’s no way that would happen .-.” … Well 😶
And with the current A Hero Rises event being locked to pre time skip units, along with Yuri being a very popular character and unit… it looks like I’m gonna have a +10! I… Never, EVER expected to get a +1 Yuri let alone a +10 ._. I’m so proud of myself .-. Yuri WILL be my first +10 5 star exclusive unit. And this is all F2P by the way. Like I just- wow. I did that ._.
Also throw a vote or two Yuri’s way if you would be so kind 🙏🏻 #VoteYuri
#Fire Emblem Heroes#Fire Emblem Theee Houses#Fire Emblem 3 Houses#FE:TH#FE:3H#FETH#FEH#Yuri Leclerc#Yuri Fire Emblem#Vote Yuri#Please :3#Siddy Rambles#He has Luna in preparation for Lethality lol#Volke is being a dick >_>#I’ve asked for a fireman several times but he’s not answering the calling card <_<
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"Only thorns left on this rose."
Dorothea is one of those characters who I totally misjudged upon first meeting in game - I expected a typical “popular girl”, and while she is certainly beloved by her peers, she is so much more complex than even she gives herself credit for. She is sensitive and kind, a bit jaded at times, but always looking out for those she cares for. She is truly a rose, thorns and all.
#fire emblem three houses#fire emblem#fe:3h#fe3h#dorothea arnault#fe:th#fire emblem dorothea#black eagles
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Fire Emblem Three Houses had no business playing me like a fool the way it did.
Like, I don't like people. Kids, teenagers, doesn't matter. And when I'm told I'd be a good teacher, I wholeheartedly shoot the very notion down. Not because I don't think I'd be a good teacher, but because I don't like people in general. And yet!
There I was, putting so much thought into every student, even if they weren't under my wing (YET). I was planning what to have them study that worked best for them, and heavily strategized even just the mock battles to prevent any one student from taking on too much damage. I was actively trying to complete all their convos and little quests so they weren't sad or left out.
It was ridiculous, but it was also too late. It was over for me. They're so dumb sometimes but they're my dumb students now, and if anything happened to them, I'd flay every monster alive. It's honestly a terrible fate I'd wish upon no one.
#how dare a game make me care#how am i supposed enjoy a quiet life when i gotta keep a bunch of dumbasses alive#how does one not get attached to said dumbasses#its impossible#fe3h#fe:th#fire emblem three houses
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seteth brainrot corrupting my mind. a wip maybe i’ll finish someday idk
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Musing on Sitri's corpse and death arrangement--it's been discussed before, but Rhea comes from Nabatean culture, which seems to have different death arrangements than humans. This is likely due to the corpses not normally deteriorating the way human corpses do. Even after a little over twenty years, Sitri's corpse does not display evidence of decay.
Moreover, having her kept on a stone altar allows Rhea and other family (like Byleth, later) visit her to pay their respects in a way that is just as tangible as visiting Jeralt's grave. But I thought of this because of a video on human skin books. The only ones who should have control over Sitri's death arrangements are her living family, assuming that she didn't have any specific wishes of her own...largely because her perspective is under-played or almost non-existent in Three Houses. If Byleth, for example, would not want her to be buried, then there would be no reason to do so.
Part of the problem with how portions of the fanbase view this matter is the suspicion towards Rhea's motives. Of course, White Clouds initially makes Rhea seem mysterious and someone you should be cautious around, but you learn that she is more of a complicated, overtaxed lady with way too much going on in her life. So this suspicion is directed at her even for the mourning she shows to her professed daughter-figure. That she would not have buried her is treated as a nefarious dealing--surely, she must have some ulterior motive! Or perhaps she's experimenting on Byleth's mother!
Note that Aelfric IS the one trying to use Sitri's corpse for his own ends. He was her friend, but also someone with a romantic attachment to her that never let go; and unlike Rhea, who also does not want to let go of any of her family, he takes this to the extreme, going against what Sitri would have wished for. In this way, not only are the Nabateans' death rites disrespected, but also Sitri's autonomy.
With the human skin books, one question posed is whether it can ever be moral to produce or own those books. Many of the people who had their skin used were victimized posthumously, and now, they are only remembered in the context of being the binding of a book. How the books are treated by library staff plays a large part in whether the deceased are believed to be respected now, potentially given a dignity they were not given at the times of their deaths (and perhaps, even in their lives). Private collectors have an even bigger responsibility, as the remains of the deceased can so easily be oggled at, given no context or memory of their lives. Treated as, "Ooh, macabre aesthetic."
Even for those who consented, perhaps even eagerly, to become 'immortalized' in this way, a level of care is often discussed. For any human remains, willing or not, much of their postmortem affairs rely upon the presence and awareness of any remaining family or loved ones they may have, should they even have any.
I'm kinda off my shits, not gonna lie, which has led to the rambling nature of this post. But I think a lot of the questions raised by human-remains bookbinding are applicable to Sitri's situation, as well as the fates of the Nabateans who were (very much unwillingly) made into Relics. Burying them, I think, may not be a respectful answer to giving them dignity in death, given what little we know of Nabatean customs regarding death.
#Fire Emblem#Fire Emblem: Three Houses#FE#FE:TH#FE16#FE Sitri#FE Rhea#Nabateans#Cindered Shadows#Rambling#Rambles#Text#Text Posts#Textposts#Spoilers#FE Spoilers#Three Houses Spoilers#FE16 Spoilers
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