fe:fates fic, YRMR sequel
Jul. 6th, 2025 02:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kradeelavi don't think this post-YRMR epilouge/(breeding) fic is going to Actually Happen, alas.
that said i found a decent chunk of it written and throwing it in here under the cut for y'all to enjoy. :) keep in mind that it's an obvious draft, chunks of paragraphs are not written, etc. it's not the fun sexy stuff proper, but y'all might enjoy the lead-up to it.
(set roughly a year after Revelation, YRMR version)
Gunter/f!Corrin find a new game in the tomb of Anankos, rekindling old ghosts. implied spice (sexual hunting/CNC). sequel to YRMR.
(crossposting from tumblr if/when it goes)
She couldn't sing like Azura to calm hearts or heal away bloodied wounds like her littlest sister Elise.
True, he had healed in body, but--
--they had not talked about those days. More common were mumbled confessions in restless nights when she caught him sweating and thrashing awake from a night terror. Likewise when he would startle badly from her gentle touch against his hand, roused briefly from a peculiar moody listlessness. Likewise when he caught her tightly curled up in a shadowed corner like a forgotten tome with pages ripped out, lost in the past and brought back with his steady warm hands and voice like an anchor.
They had both not escaped unscathed from the war.
it was time for another visit to the ruins, Corrin decided.
-----
This was a pilgrimage of a kind, coming down here to the darkness, alone save for Gunter, her knight following her every which way - silently acknowledging all that still laid unsaid.
Strange, how a place that once had borne witness to her worst memories was comforting now; a refuge and where her lover came alive like a ghost, away from prying eyes.
Some visits he would talk amicably about the history of the ruins he had learned from Vallite caravans, about the glories of past decades, preserved in myths. Other times they explored in amicable companionship, marking out rooms that would one day be occupied and restored in all of their glory.
Still other visits -- no words were shared, and only searingly passionate explorations of skin against skin.
Yet even with their regular trips, there were distant corridors that Corrin knew lay unexplored and unknown similar to the twisty corridors of her black knight's mind, a remnant from the possession. He had narrowly come back to the land of the living, but memories were not the only scars he bore with stoic grimness from that time. Those memories bore new layers of dust as the months went by, some healed, and some festering still.
Moonlight streamed through the broken stone above to reveal carvings along the walls. Gunter crouched down on a stone outcropping, resting stoically as she observed.
Corrin was no scholar with her years being cloistered, but even she could tell by tracing the dusty figures with a finger that were of Anankos.
Anankos, silent dragon, and cause of so many old grief and scars.
Here in the womb of darkness, walking close against his mass and hearing his own heartbeat -- Corrin always felt freer to ask what would feel profane to lay bare in the harsh daylight.
"What would you have done, sir?"
[A/N: he replies slightly flippantly about anankos wanting to destroy the world too predictably. ]
Corrin hid both a pang of irritation and a frown at the flippancy. There was his hesitation again, stillness instead of a river of confident motion. His energy of late felt like a boulder blocking a river, waters risen to the banks in unhappiness. Her old instructor was smarter than that and knew that was not the question she was asking.
"I'm asking you, sir. Not Anankos."
For a long time, Corrin thought he wouldn't answer, afflicted by the kind of selective hearing men were wont to get as they got older and cantankerous much to the chagrin of Jakob and herself. For a moment he seemed to draw himself in like the unyielding stubborn boulder in a river. But then a low whisper came back from the shadows, this time wreathed in edges of teeth and smoke.
"Be very certian you want the answer to that, Corrin."
[ A/N: (this is when the answer turns into a courtship here - he describes the game here. ]
Languidly, Gunter shifted, tilting his head with the oddest glimmer in his eyes. Like the artless actor he was, her black knight was shifting back into an old form she knew, a hungry wolf with a long loping predatory stride. She could feel his bulk as he loped behind, a mountain carved from slate as calculating eyes slid across her form and found her wanting.
"Let's consider you say yes, princess -- as you so often do with me."
Half of his form was eclipsed by the shadows around, black armor sensuously glinting like oil against the velvety darkness beyond. Warm breath pooled by her earlobe as he murmured, gauntleted claws slowly teasing down her bare arms with the lightest scrapes of pain that every nerve sang with.
"If you win, I'll tell you. If I win…" His razor-sharp metal stilled, and the lethal whisper came back.
"i will show you."
Air fisted out of Corrin with a sharp inhale like she had been struck. The depraved insulation was plain, nakedly sordid laid out in so many words. They had a mute truce of gentle lovemaking between the jagged shards of memories and the muzzy sheets of the dead that laid between like a battlefield. But this --
Heat flooded her face, almost dizzying.
Hunt or be hunted.
The hunter beside her stood patiently and silent. With a swallow, she forced her eyes up.
His hooded gaze was like a viper's, oddly charming as it was hypnotizing. Unlike a viper, there was a hard glitter of life in that focus that she had not seen in a year. Corrin alighted onto that tail of hope.
"You might have the advantage on me, sir." Her breath hitched again, faintly forcing more tease out. "Knowing this domain."
"With your own senses and training, I should hope not." His handsome scarred lips curled to the side, though the words were dryly brisk. "Lest i taught my star pupil poorly."
Flushing lightly at the rare compliment, Corrin had to look away bashfully.
"Somehow I doubt you'll let self deprecation ruin your own victory." Her comment struck true - his eyes creased with flattered amusement in turn, crossing his arms with an air of smugness.
Shyly, she still couldn't meet his eyes- and alighted them on the coiled whip at his side instead.
"Shall we?"
His quiet words was her last and final out.
One hesitation from her, and they would unadoubtably find a different game, more of the gentler companionship as easy as the game of catch instead of this frisson that burned between them.
Corrin nodded mutely as an answer, anticipation tightening her throat with a rush of headiness.
This -like before- would be a new game of theirs, with an obvious end.
--
[ A/N: if it wasn't clear, he then stalks/hunts her through anankos' ruins very much with his possessed!vibe; and eventually catches/fucks her at the end (with a good side of breeding kink/CNC.)
----
[ A/N: Afterwards ]
When she woke, a warm fire crackled.
They were both still sweat-slick with exhaustion, far too spent to backtrack the lengthy tunnels to the surface.
In a way, the solitude alone with him was an immense comfort to Corrin -- far away from interlopers who would only stare in blank pity, incomprehension or outright disgust.
It was with the constant pang of awareness that Corrin reminiscenced on how they made love in shadows and corners of privacy more than general decency and politeness demanded, more so than others. He was not an emotionally open man to begin with, but the weight of eyes was… suffocating at times, always tempering the fires of their own passion.
This, Corrin thought with a vicious streak of jealous possessive pleasure, was hers -- only to share with her oldest knight.
The light illuminated warmly against the fine silver body hair that marched along his forearm, the texture brushing against her own nudeness. He slowly kissed her shoulder again like it was the sweetest wine to savor and scent, thin creased nose brushing along her sweat-slick skin, drawing her from the heavier thoughts.
His knobby knuckles grasped at her wrist, halting the gentle motions.
And yet - Corrin did not care for the suddenly distant look in his eyes and the slackness of a drowning man, both in the oddly halting caresses in rough fingertips over her wrists.
His voice was gravely, rough.
"I didn't hurt you?"
"You never have."
His eyes closed, kissing her own knuckles with a slow reverence that broke her heart as much as it sang in return.
How he still cared, had the strength for loyalty with it being dashed so brutally against pitiless fate was beyond her. He reminded her of a lone salt-stained boulder cast the sea at times, bearing the elements with a stoic endurance century after century.
that said i found a decent chunk of it written and throwing it in here under the cut for y'all to enjoy. :) keep in mind that it's an obvious draft, chunks of paragraphs are not written, etc. it's not the fun sexy stuff proper, but y'all might enjoy the lead-up to it.
(set roughly a year after Revelation, YRMR version)
Gunter/f!Corrin find a new game in the tomb of Anankos, rekindling old ghosts. implied spice (sexual hunting/CNC). sequel to YRMR.
(crossposting from tumblr if/when it goes)
She couldn't sing like Azura to calm hearts or heal away bloodied wounds like her littlest sister Elise.
True, he had healed in body, but--
--they had not talked about those days. More common were mumbled confessions in restless nights when she caught him sweating and thrashing awake from a night terror. Likewise when he would startle badly from her gentle touch against his hand, roused briefly from a peculiar moody listlessness. Likewise when he caught her tightly curled up in a shadowed corner like a forgotten tome with pages ripped out, lost in the past and brought back with his steady warm hands and voice like an anchor.
They had both not escaped unscathed from the war.
it was time for another visit to the ruins, Corrin decided.
-----
This was a pilgrimage of a kind, coming down here to the darkness, alone save for Gunter, her knight following her every which way - silently acknowledging all that still laid unsaid.
Strange, how a place that once had borne witness to her worst memories was comforting now; a refuge and where her lover came alive like a ghost, away from prying eyes.
Some visits he would talk amicably about the history of the ruins he had learned from Vallite caravans, about the glories of past decades, preserved in myths. Other times they explored in amicable companionship, marking out rooms that would one day be occupied and restored in all of their glory.
Still other visits -- no words were shared, and only searingly passionate explorations of skin against skin.
Yet even with their regular trips, there were distant corridors that Corrin knew lay unexplored and unknown similar to the twisty corridors of her black knight's mind, a remnant from the possession. He had narrowly come back to the land of the living, but memories were not the only scars he bore with stoic grimness from that time. Those memories bore new layers of dust as the months went by, some healed, and some festering still.
Moonlight streamed through the broken stone above to reveal carvings along the walls. Gunter crouched down on a stone outcropping, resting stoically as she observed.
Corrin was no scholar with her years being cloistered, but even she could tell by tracing the dusty figures with a finger that were of Anankos.
Anankos, silent dragon, and cause of so many old grief and scars.
Here in the womb of darkness, walking close against his mass and hearing his own heartbeat -- Corrin always felt freer to ask what would feel profane to lay bare in the harsh daylight.
"What would you have done, sir?"
[A/N: he replies slightly flippantly about anankos wanting to destroy the world too predictably. ]
Corrin hid both a pang of irritation and a frown at the flippancy. There was his hesitation again, stillness instead of a river of confident motion. His energy of late felt like a boulder blocking a river, waters risen to the banks in unhappiness. Her old instructor was smarter than that and knew that was not the question she was asking.
"I'm asking you, sir. Not Anankos."
For a long time, Corrin thought he wouldn't answer, afflicted by the kind of selective hearing men were wont to get as they got older and cantankerous much to the chagrin of Jakob and herself. For a moment he seemed to draw himself in like the unyielding stubborn boulder in a river. But then a low whisper came back from the shadows, this time wreathed in edges of teeth and smoke.
"Be very certian you want the answer to that, Corrin."
[ A/N: (this is when the answer turns into a courtship here - he describes the game here. ]
Languidly, Gunter shifted, tilting his head with the oddest glimmer in his eyes. Like the artless actor he was, her black knight was shifting back into an old form she knew, a hungry wolf with a long loping predatory stride. She could feel his bulk as he loped behind, a mountain carved from slate as calculating eyes slid across her form and found her wanting.
"Let's consider you say yes, princess -- as you so often do with me."
Half of his form was eclipsed by the shadows around, black armor sensuously glinting like oil against the velvety darkness beyond. Warm breath pooled by her earlobe as he murmured, gauntleted claws slowly teasing down her bare arms with the lightest scrapes of pain that every nerve sang with.
"If you win, I'll tell you. If I win…" His razor-sharp metal stilled, and the lethal whisper came back.
"i will show you."
Air fisted out of Corrin with a sharp inhale like she had been struck. The depraved insulation was plain, nakedly sordid laid out in so many words. They had a mute truce of gentle lovemaking between the jagged shards of memories and the muzzy sheets of the dead that laid between like a battlefield. But this --
Heat flooded her face, almost dizzying.
Hunt or be hunted.
The hunter beside her stood patiently and silent. With a swallow, she forced her eyes up.
His hooded gaze was like a viper's, oddly charming as it was hypnotizing. Unlike a viper, there was a hard glitter of life in that focus that she had not seen in a year. Corrin alighted onto that tail of hope.
"You might have the advantage on me, sir." Her breath hitched again, faintly forcing more tease out. "Knowing this domain."
"With your own senses and training, I should hope not." His handsome scarred lips curled to the side, though the words were dryly brisk. "Lest i taught my star pupil poorly."
Flushing lightly at the rare compliment, Corrin had to look away bashfully.
"Somehow I doubt you'll let self deprecation ruin your own victory." Her comment struck true - his eyes creased with flattered amusement in turn, crossing his arms with an air of smugness.
Shyly, she still couldn't meet his eyes- and alighted them on the coiled whip at his side instead.
"Shall we?"
His quiet words was her last and final out.
One hesitation from her, and they would unadoubtably find a different game, more of the gentler companionship as easy as the game of catch instead of this frisson that burned between them.
Corrin nodded mutely as an answer, anticipation tightening her throat with a rush of headiness.
This -like before- would be a new game of theirs, with an obvious end.
--
[ A/N: if it wasn't clear, he then stalks/hunts her through anankos' ruins very much with his possessed!vibe; and eventually catches/fucks her at the end (with a good side of breeding kink/CNC.)
----
[ A/N: Afterwards ]
When she woke, a warm fire crackled.
They were both still sweat-slick with exhaustion, far too spent to backtrack the lengthy tunnels to the surface.
In a way, the solitude alone with him was an immense comfort to Corrin -- far away from interlopers who would only stare in blank pity, incomprehension or outright disgust.
It was with the constant pang of awareness that Corrin reminiscenced on how they made love in shadows and corners of privacy more than general decency and politeness demanded, more so than others. He was not an emotionally open man to begin with, but the weight of eyes was… suffocating at times, always tempering the fires of their own passion.
This, Corrin thought with a vicious streak of jealous possessive pleasure, was hers -- only to share with her oldest knight.
The light illuminated warmly against the fine silver body hair that marched along his forearm, the texture brushing against her own nudeness. He slowly kissed her shoulder again like it was the sweetest wine to savor and scent, thin creased nose brushing along her sweat-slick skin, drawing her from the heavier thoughts.
His knobby knuckles grasped at her wrist, halting the gentle motions.
And yet - Corrin did not care for the suddenly distant look in his eyes and the slackness of a drowning man, both in the oddly halting caresses in rough fingertips over her wrists.
His voice was gravely, rough.
"I didn't hurt you?"
"You never have."
His eyes closed, kissing her own knuckles with a slow reverence that broke her heart as much as it sang in return.
How he still cared, had the strength for loyalty with it being dashed so brutally against pitiless fate was beyond her. He reminded her of a lone salt-stained boulder cast the sea at times, bearing the elements with a stoic endurance century after century.
