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iturbide · 2 years

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Iturbide (Itu?) I cant stop thinking about this Agarthan!Claude AU ever since it got brought up IT ALL LINES UP?? SO WELL??? And could genuinely be such an interesting story, especially if you combine it with pissed Byleth AU Golden Attempt

Because? Whats gonna happen when/if Byleth succeeds and frees Claude? If Byleth is recruited on a Golden Wildfire route? It'd be so interesting to see how familiar Byleth acts and is with every other student...only to see how cold they become in comparison with Agarthan!Claude. Maybe even despite Agarthan!Claude's efforts, wanting to also gain the power of the Fell Star on the side of the Agarthans.

IT ALL REALLY DOES WORK SO WELL TOGETHER IT'S UNCANNY and also it gives me something to actually embrace about a route that otherwise looks pretty grim to me

Also please forgive how late this is, I hope that this is worth the wait

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Byleth had not meant to wind time back so far during the battle in Enbarr. Even now they could not be certain why it had happened. They recalled, with terrible clarity, Claude’s final moments, his parting words to them, the air around them going cold and still as time froze…and then the lurch as it wound backward, the flow too swift to parse -- until they bolted upright in their bedroll, gasping for breath in the sweltering dark and trying to get their bearings.

They had not immediately recognized the rustling beside them. But they knew the voice that called out to them immediately, and felt their heart tighten as they turned to see their father rousing from his own rest to check on them.

Their father, who had died almost six years prior.

He seemed surprised when they embraced him. He returned it, though, laughing gently and offering an easy joke about whether the girl in their dreams had finally managed to give them a fright. And Byleth had agreed, if only because they had no idea what else to say or how to explain the truth. Their father had returned to sleep. And they had lain awake, staring into the dark until the sky lightened and morning finally arrived.

They struggled for the first few days, trying to fit back into a life at odds with the one they’d been living in another time. Their father worried, but seemed willing enough to accept that they’d simply had a nightmare that left them unsettled. They’d never been prone to nightmares before, after all. And every night, staring up at the canvas of their tent, they wondered what had happened. Their best guess, in the end, was that the shock of Claude’s death had sent the goddess’ power spiraling out of their control, and in trying to undo a single attack, they instead undid everything: Edelgard’s war, the merge with Sothis, their father’s death…all of it, gone like a nightmare, leaving them to awaken disoriented and unsure of what was real.

It was all real, though. They were sure of that.

Because Sothis remained.

And she remembered.

When they were able to steal moments to themselves, they talked with her in hopes that she might be able to fix their mistake. But she only shook her head: time’s flow, she said, was like an endlessly branching river, and while her power could wind them back along the course once taken, it could not guarantee the same way forward once released. They would simply have to live again, through all the events that had brought them to Enbarr in that looming future.

So Byleth lived.

There was a strangeness to reliving those long-forgotten days, fighting battles that they’d already won, clashing with enemies they had met once before and left either dead or defeated. The purple-haired mercenary stirred no memory, but certainly caught their interest now when they summoned an unsettlingly familiar power to turn the tides of battle in their favor. But they did not look or act like one of Solon’s cohorts, so Byleth chose to let them be, looking ahead to the day when they would pass through a quiet village called Remire and meet the students of Garreg Mach Officer’s Academy for the first time in this new life.

But though their journey carried them to Remire, the night remained perfectly still. The young Lords never appeared, and come morning their mercenary band set off toward their next job in the Kingdom.

Sothis had warned them that there was no guarantee time would follow the same course. And yet they had not expected the fight with Kostas to change. Perhaps they should have, given how far back they had come.

Still, they chose to wait and see what this new future might hold. Perhaps they would go to Leicester once the war broke out -- the Alliance would certainly have need of mercenaries, when that time came -- and help him to chase his dream again. Perhaps this time they would be able to block that fatal blow, push the Emperor back, and put a stop to her bloody conquest. Perhaps they would have a chance to see what the world looked like after Enbarr, their allies and friends battered but standing ready to face the new day all the same.

The war began, rumors and hearsay heard in snatches of conversation in towns they passed through on the way to other jobs. Strange to think they had once ignored this, or never thought to wonder what was meant by talk of Seiros and the Goddess. But the Archbishop did not go missing this time: instead the fall of Garreg Mach forced her and her closest allies to flee north to the Kingdom, taking refuge with King Dimitri of Faerghus. And soon enough, the Empire called on them to take up arms against Adrestia’s foes, directing them toward the Great Bridge of Myrddin.

Byleth had been sure, then, that they would soon meet their old friend. He looked little different when they glimpsed him across the field: a change of clothes, a few younger than they recalled, but otherwise he cut the same figure they remembered astride a brown wyvern. They felt a pang, hearing him order his forces to attack and kill them…but they reminded themselves that he did not know them in this life. He had no reason to stay his hand.

Three times they clashed. The first, Alliance forces pushed them back, led by the purple-haired mercenary who had joined their fold; the second, the Alliance retreated, escaping only by virtue of that same sell-sword; and the third, the mercenary offered them a chance to join forces -- which they accepted outright.

Once the conflict ended and the confusion stirred by their mid-battle alliance settled, they sought Claude out, eager in spite of everything to reach out to their old friend once more. They greeted him in the way they always had, beginning in their days at Garreg Mach -- a warm sign, a ‘happy to see you’ and a hope that he was well.

And he only stared at them without comprehension.

The Creststone in their chest iced over along with their heart, the cold weight sinking down into their stomach.

It was not Claude. For all that it looked like him, sounded like him, seemed like him, it was not the man they had known, but someone wearing his face…just as Kronya had worn Monica’s to infiltrate the Academy.

They spent the following days avoiding the imposter at all costs. The sight of him made their blood burn with a fury they’d barely known themselves capable of. They spent their time instead with other friends they’d known in that other life -- Lysithea, Marianne, Ignatz -- reminding themselves time and again that these were not the same people, in hopes that it would temper their familiarity somewhat. It did not work as well as they might have hoped, judging by some of the strange looks their new allies gave them. But it was not enough to scare them away, either.

No, the only thing that drove them apart was the appearance of the fake in their midst, attempting to insinuate himself into their company. Byleth excused themselves the moment they heard his voice beside them, without sparing him so much as a glance.

The rest of the former Deer seemed puzzled by that reaction. But Byleth could not tell them the truth and expect to be believed, either.

Through those friends from their other life, they learned what the imposter had done with his position of power. The Alliance was gone, replaced by a Federation with Claude as its king. He had allied with Edelgard before setting his sights on Faerghus, and even now sought the downfall of both Church and Kingdom alike without once questioning the Adrestian Emperor’s claims about either.

It came to a head at Garreg Mach monastery, when the Leicester forces marched to reinforce the Empire’s position and push back the joint forces of the Kingdom and Church of Seiros. In the aftermath, as Shez prepared to pursue Dimitri and Rhea north, Byleth moved to inform Claude and Edelgard…and overheard their plans for the future of Fódlan. For Rhea’s death.

They might have little love for Rhea, themselves, but Sothis was another matter. Their sword was in their hand and covered with blood in the blink of an eye -- and as the Leicester and Adrestian forces descended upon them, time froze and wound back once more.

They tried again.

The mercenaries passed through Remire again without encountering the Garreg Mach House leaders. The war came again, and when they met Claude on the battlefield, they held nothing back.

Their father died by Shez’ blade while they sought the imposter’s head.

They tried again.

Though it made their blood boil, they agreed to an alliance with Shez once again -- and at the first opportunity, grabbed the imposter, threatening him for information on where the real Claude was being held, every word ripped from their throat by the sheer force of their rage. The stranger wearing their friend’s face only sneered, despite the sword at his throat. “So the Ashen Demon does speak. Here I thought killing was your only language.”

The pain of death did not convince him to speak. In the end, it was blood rather than secrets he spilled at their feet.

They tried again.

When Shez called for a truce, Byleth agreed. Rather than plan their attack, they dogged his steps instead, waiting for him to slip and reveal something that might point them in the right direction. They shadowed his every conference with Edelgard, his every private moment, wondering when he would slink away to meet with Solon and his ilk…but he gave nothing away, even as Fódlan burned.

They tried again.

And again.

And each time, the outcome remained the same.

Once, desperate for something to change, they tried to wind time back beyond Remire, to where they first woke after the battle in Enbarr. But Sothis stopped them, gently, because their power had limits: the fact that their first jump had not unraveled the timeline completely was a frank miracle to her -- but they could not expect such a miracle to grace them twice.

They hated the words, even if they were true.

The next time they found themselves in Remire, they told their father they had something to do. He seemed surprised, and perhaps a bit worried when they told him they needed to leave the company for a while…but he let them go, all the same, only cautioning them to avoid a place called Garreg Mach.

They smiled and promised him they would return as soon as they could.

And now, after countless failures, they turned their steps toward Gronder Field, measuring their stride to Claude’s limping gait.

They had finally accomplished what they set out to do.

It was time to return home.

#answered #anonymous #fanfiction #golden attempt #claude got bodyswapped by an agarthan #and byleth is pissed about it #fire emblem warriors: three hopes #fewth spoilers #kind of #i keep thinking about this okay #it has consumed my thoughts #and continues to do so #my writing output is just really slow #anon and ga!anon i hope you enjoy this belated though it is #snippets

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inkskinned · 1 year

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probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.