EMPEROR .

———   things   never   go     as   planned     .

[adrestians-blog]

hi     &&     i   will     never   in   my   entire   goddamn   life    ship   edelgard     &&     dimitri    .    that   shit   is   disgusting   .    THAT   IS   INCEST   .    i   do   not   care   in   the   slightest   for   any    ‘    technicalities    ‘     you   think   justify   it   ,    because   they   don’t   .    do   not   follow   me   if   you   ship   them   ,    or   any   other   incest   .

[hartsgold]

❝ will you love me even more when i’m dead? ❞

that one last tender place to sink his teeth in / closed.

         edelgard is more than a force of nature. she is a pyre made with intent to reincarnate. she means to quell the false idols of this land and she will do whatever it takes to move forward. in some respects, they share an equal conviction, a parallel dedication to shifting the world as they know it on its axis. ( still, edelgard’s dream ends in masses more blood than his. it just so happens that her dream ends with her own blood, just the same. )

        since she confessed to him the corroded truth, claude’s spent tireless hours in the attempt to better understand it. when he isn’t strategizing ( or acting at great lengths ) to minimize edelgard’s damage––not damage, bloodshed, he deems to call it as it is––on the battlefield, he’s working to minimize the bloodshed she’s doomed to. whatever’s left of her lifespan thins with each day; he can’t see the splinters in her resolve, but he can feel the weight of truth imposing itself on her. it isn’t until they’re alone that she yields some of these quiet, morbid ideas. 

          “you’re cruel, emperor.” he only uses the title to lighten the mood. not that it accomplishes anything other than weighing his heart like an anchor to his stomach. “i couldn’t possibly love you more.” her question is a vulnerable one –– claude knows well that few besides himself are privy to this grim truth. that’s what makes seeking answers all the more difficult. but there are too many who would do worse with this information, and he understands her refusal to risk that fact. 

          “but i cannot give love to a gravestone, and you know that.” claude’s never been the sort to relinquish hope, and he certainly doesn’t do so now. “what i feel,” he takes her hand in his, then rests her palm over the uneven beat of his heart. it skips where she touches. “will always be right here. and i daresay, so will you.” 

          so long as he has any say in the future, he refuses to imagine one without her. 

[mauricrests]

also   bc   i’m   doing   it   rn   .    if   you’d   like   me   to   compile   what   dishes   your   muse   likes     &&     dislikes   please   let   me   know   !    i’m  more   than   happy   to   send   them   your   way   !   i   can   view   the   full   menu   for   the   blue   lions   but   i    AM   missing   a   few   dishes   from   the   other   routes   ,    so   my   apologies   in   advance   !

[sheknightly]

edelgard aesthetic for @adrestians !

[mauricrests]

hewwwwwwo   everyone   ,    i   would   greatly   appreciate   it   if   you   could     like     /     reblog     this   post   if   you’re   interested   in   interacting   with   a   new       marianne   von   edmund   !

[adrestians-blog]

im   not   awake   enough   2   write   like   a   proper   lazy   promo   but   i’m   also     @mauricrests   ...    support   my   brand

[knightsdeath]

the snow beneath your feet is cold & unfamiliar , brings a strange chill that seeps through your clothes & gloves . it does not quite go unnoticed , though for now it is ignored ; you have a ' fight ' of some sort to focus on , despite a distinct lack of enthusiasm —— but you've no want for competitive spirit , & it flares when the first wad of snow connects with the back of your head , laughter echoing around you . eyes narrow , & you're ready for a battle .

there is a certain sense of EXHILARATION as the frigid mountain air embraces him and he is dressed in layers and furs and all but stumbling through the snow and THIS IS HIS HOME. this is his place. behind them there dwells the manor that he knows as well as the back of his hand and around them there are piles and piles and piles of snow. pure untouched whiteness for as far as the eye can see / stretching over the ground that are so frequently swathed in snow but it’s different, as it drifts from the sky in its beautiful and marvelous dance.

she’s with him / AND THE CROWN PRINCE IS SOMEWHERE / he cannot remember where and he spares a thought to finding him but his gaze catches on the marvel in her face / the wideness of her eyes / the part of her mouth / and the scatter of snow in her dark hair and an idea takes him !! and he gives into it !! and darts for the ground / picking up freshly fallen snow in hand and she’s turning, slow.

( to think that there’s a place in this land that sees snow so rarely, if ever. the idea is strange and doesn’t FIT / and he’s a winter boy / born in the midst of a BLIZZARD that yearned for him, or so mother dear says / with the wind howling against the windows and the snow piling and piling and piling : nearly as tall as a man !! quite the story, isn’t it? )

a smile ( wide and stretching and MISCHIEVOUS ) pulls at his mouth as he forms the snow into a near perfect sphere as his brother taught him and he hurls it and ———— BULLS EYE !! like an arrow to the center it connects with the back of her head and she shouts and he laughs and they are : children / luxuriating in their merriment.

she darts a look at him and he’s giggling still as the snow falls from her hair / and mixes with the rest / and there is a sense of confusion and wonder about her, still. snow is falling ; and catching on her eyelashes ; and he can’t help but announce, voice clear and ringing through the courtyard / as guards turn their heads so subtly towards THE YOUNG LORD as he bows, grand and rather over dramatic, ❝ my apologies, your majesty, but all’s fair in a snowball fight. ❞

she stares at him for a moment / and then another / before her expression shifts and her eyes narrow and determination overtakes her and it’s GLORIOUS as she dives for the deep snow ( just over halfway to their knees ) and he moves, in sync, accidentally half burying himself in his hurry to gather another handful of snow.

and it’s : an all-out war.

( when his highness joins them they stare at him / and then each other / and launch an ALL OUT OFFENSIVE against him as their laughs and shrieks and shouts reverberate throughout the courtyard / carrying with it the sounds of their childish joy. )

@adrestians // babies…

[adrestians-blog]

edelgard   is   absolutely   ...    a   fire     /     dark     /     dragon   type   trainer

[enlighth]

hi im lati and this is byleth  and we are going to beat you to death

[adrestians-blog]

i   hope   sarah   knows   how   much   i   love     &&     appreciate   her     &&     everything   she   does

[adrestians-blog]

do   i   have   any   clue   what   i   just   wrote   ?    no   .    anyways   ,

[adrestians-blog]

                     @hartsgold   murmurs    ; ❛ how can you willingly choose to walk the path to your own death––? ❜

battle     rages     endlessly     onward     in     your     memory     ,          a   din   of   desperate   yells     &&     clashing   blades     /     blood   spilled     &&     life   lost   .    they   say   war’s   first   victim   is   innocence   ,    but   you   lost   yours   long   before   ,    a   child   grown   up   far   ,    far   too   early    —       you   never   shy   from   the   front   lines   ,     &&     you   never   have   .    it   would   be   cowardly   to   run   from   the   pain     &&     suffering    you   yourself    have   wrought   .    vivid   are   the   recollection    ——       you   swing   your   axe   ,    lack   the   weight     /     the   strain   in   your   arms   ,    cave   one   chest   in       (      yet   another   follows   ,    then   another   .    your   blade   is   stained   .    you   are   a   monster   .      )       the   images   linger   ,    persistent   ,    a   ghost   with   hands    firmly   around   your   heart    ;      how   fitting   ,    you   think   ,    when   your   reflection   meets   your   eyes   .

peace     has     long     abandoned     you     ,      queen     of     rage     ,         surrendered   your   mind   to   endless   turmoil    ——       but   you   deserve   it   ,    for   all   you’ve   done   ,    don’t   you   ?    a   mountain   of   corpses   weighs   down   your   shoulders       (      &&     you   remember   every   face   ,    every   family   ,    every   life   torn   apart   .    you   don’t   let   them   know   that    ——       they   would   never   believe   you   ,    regardless   .      )       silence   ,    once   a   blessing   ,     now   proves   unsettling     /     gives   you   far   too   much   time   to    think   ,     &&     you   find   you   no   longer   have   want   of   it   .

each     home     you     find     proves     temporary     ,          moving   from   base   to   base   ,    but   even    your   own   palace    does   not   feel   like   home    ;      not   to   you   ,    not   anymore   .    you   shy   from   your   throne     /     haunt   the   halls   instead   ,    a   ghost   of   your   former   self   ,     &&     in   turn   you   yourself   are   haunted       (      by   the   red   that   stains   your   hands     /     by   the   bodies   piled   upon   your   shoulders     /     by   the   absence   of   those   you   called   friends   .      )       despite   it   all   ,     he    finds   you   ,    a   beast   of   war   swathed   in   flowing   red     ——       he   beckons   peace   ,    but   it   is   lost   on   you   .    the   emotion   in   his   eyes   is   unfamiliar   ,    yet   it   strikes   your   heart   regardless    ;       or   ,    at   least   ,    what   is   left   of   it   .         ❛       claude   .       ❜         your   voice   holds   nothing   but   conviction   .    you   feel   none   of   it   .

he     doesn’t     speak     ,      not     immediately     ,          you   see   the   hesitation     /     search   for   the   right   words       (      but   do   they   exist   ?      )       &&     you   cannot   blame   him   .    you   have   long   since   grown   accustomed   to   the   language   of   battle   ,    words   lodging   in   your   throat   ,    stuck   at   the   tip   of   your   tongue    ;       it   seems   ,    in   this   moment   ,    he   suffers   the   same   .    you   glide   close     /     keep   your   distance    ——       he   doesn’t   deserve   to   suffer   ,    to   be   swept   up   in   your   trail   of   blood     &&     death   .    you   know   he   would   resent   your   traitorous   thoughts       (      so   you   draw   closer   ,    just   a   step   ,     &&     find   you   miss   the   sanctity   of   his   palm   against   your   own   .      )       when   finally   he   finds   his   voice   ,    however   ,    there   is   a   part   of   you   that   wishes   he    didn’t    ——       you   aren’t   ready   for   this   conversation   ,     &&     you   doubt   you   ever   will   be   .

there     is     a     resolution     in     his     tone          that   you    know    you   can’t   escape    ;      he   will   get   his   answer   as   you   both   stand   in   this   very   room   ,    to   a   question   presumably   long   plaguing   his   mind       (      you   know   you   hold   a   great   many   answers   ,    albeit   to   questions   others   seem   to   shy   from   asking     ——       you   wonder   ,    do   they   fear   the   answer   ?      )       the   sigh   that   falls   from   your   lips   is   surely   telling   ,    for   he   knows   you   better   than   most     /     better   than   anyone   .    perhaps   your   hesitation   is   ,    too   ,    yet   you   cannot   bring   yourself   to   care   .      ‘    how   can   you   walk   toward   your   own   death   ?    ‘      the   answer   is   simple   enough   ,     &&     always   has   been   .

your     own     arms     curl     around     yourself    ,          a   bid   for    safety     /     comfort    ——       you   could   count   the   times   you’ve   shared   the   secrets   held   closest   to   your   heart   on   one   hand   ,    that   which   makes   you    most   vulnerable    .    frustration   keeps   its   distance   ,     &&     in   its   place   you   are   left   with   an   eerie   calm       (      should   it   be   this   difficult   ?    in   the   end   ,    it   is   a   fact    ——       nothing   more     &&     nothing   less   .    the   words   lodge   in   your   throat   regardless   .      )       the   shake   in   your   voice   is   slight   ,    as   is   the   break   in   your   voice   .    were   you   not   supposed   to   remain   uncaring   ?         ❛       i    ——      i   don’t   have   a   choice   .    i   haven’t   since   i   was   a   child   .       ❜

but     he     doesn’t     know     ,      does     he     ?          the   horrors   of   your   youth   ,    the   pain     /     the   fear     /     the   hatred   .    for   you   ,    was   freedom   ever   truly   an   option   ?    you   say   your   hands   have   been   bound   since   childhood    ——       but   even   before   you   were   forced   to   endure     &&     endure     &&     endure   ,    was   your   fate   anything   different   ?    you   turn   ,    angle   yourself   away   ,    hoping   against   hope   that   it   will   help   .         ❛       the   details   are    ——       too   much   ,    but   ...    i   won’t   live   much   longer   .    a   little   over   a   decade   ,    at   best   .       ❜         your   brow   furrows   ,    head   bows   .    it   is   strange   ,    the   weight   that   leaves   your   shoulders   as   your   words   find   the   air    .         ❛       if   i   fall   in   battle   before   my   time   comes   ,    perhaps   it   will   be   a    mercy   .       ❜         ah   ,    but   a   mercy    you   do   not   deserve   .

——         your     heart     is     bared       /       &&     it     bleeds     .

[healingpoise]

❛ i am afraid that when i close my eyes, i shall fall into a very deep sleep … then when i finally awaken, everyone i know and love will be gone——vanished with the sands of time. ❜

( independent flayn of fe3h / temp. dash only / private & selective / loved by peach ♡ )

[nighwept-deactivated20200306]

byleth said edelgard rights.   /   @adrestians

[memeingovermemes]

My muse has to tell nothing but the truth for 10 asks.

Ask them funny questions, get personal, query about the people around them or pester them for their deepest darkest secrets - go wild! Include ✘ with the asks!

[lifeinpoetry]

“memory: / an axe coming down”

— Sarah J. Sloat, from “I went through bullshit” published in Dream Pop Press

[vestraborn]

                                         indie hubert ( fe: 3h ) . written by almond