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Fire Emblem H-eroes

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The Holidays had arrived in Askr, especially in the halls of Folkhalla. The many rooms and chambers had been festooned with lights and bells, ribbons and garland that weaved around and between the columns. The spirit had infected nearly every person that called Folkhalla home, from the youngest timid child to the oldest knight. And this night would be no exception.

Tonight was something special - a private gathering in the castle’s bar. Here the drinks flowed as freely as the revelers themselves. Friends and foes, royalty and commoner, and soldiers and Heroes gleefully regaled and mingled. The Barman watched with a soft smile hidden behind his beard.

The smoky tavern had been transformed by the spirit of the season. Wreaths hung from the wall planted spears alongside softly glowing lanterns. The training dummy chairs were swapped out for proper ones, while the tables had cloths concealing their nature as former archery targets. A simple troupe was set up in the corner, adding music to the already festive ambiance. And there at his post was the ever popular Barman, ready to serve the brave fighters and Heroes with all the mead and ale they could ever want.

Of course the festival Heroes were the most eager and active. The four from before, and the new group this year. The Barman hadn't seen much of the new faces since they were busy mingling through the castle. He took some time to wipe a glass clean as he scanned the packed tavern.

There was Hector and Ephrahim, along with the festive son of the Ostian’s best friend. He was just at the threshold to be admitted, though he didn’t seem to be so keen to drink. ‘Kid’s not bad on his feet though,’ the barman chuckled as he glanced at the spring ninja glancing at the clearly flustered lad. ‘Hmm, guess that’s ‘nother rumor proven.’

If there was one thing that was even heavier than the haze of alcohol, it was the simmering heat of sexual tension. As one of the only ones not currently indisposed, the Barman was in a prime position to pick out obvious couples. Like how the Princess of Renais would occasionally lock eyes with her brother across the room. “Not my business,” he muttered under his breath as another patron came wandering over.

The night rolled on and the taps ran free. The troupe had long run out of carols and rhymes, and had settled into some simple tunes. A few innocuous pairs were still dancing (the Barman spied the normal Robin leading his cheerful daughter in a simple waltz, along with Hector and his little girl), but most of them had paired off and were loudly chatting at tables. One such duo were the festive forms of the exalt and one of his soldiers.

“Hah… that hits the spot,” Chrom finished his mug. His bare arms flexed as he set it down. His festooned attire contrasted the green tablecloth nicely. Falchion was popped against the table alongside his bag.

“Mmm,” the dark mage hummed in agreement. Tharja’s already lascivious attire paled in comparison to her attempts to be ‘normal’. Gone was the bodysuit, exchanged for a pair of fur-lined swimwear of all things. Her stockings reached mid-thigh and were capped off by ribbons and more fur. The matching cape was still draped over her shoulders and fastened by the bell and bow. Her enchanted candelabra now sat in the middle of the table.

The two were hardly close, but could hold a fine conversation. Especially with the added liberation that the bar’s taps had provided. Tharja’s giggles were a little more high-pitched, and Chrom’s chortles were a touch more boisterous.

“I have to say, you really took Robin by surprise under the mistletoe,” Chrom said. He tipped down another mug of brew, one that favored the broth over the holiday dressing.

Well, it's always important to follow customs to the letter,” Tharja shrugged. She couldn’t conceal her devious smirk, however. She was a bit dejected at the results, but after a few drinks it didn’t hurt as bad...well, more than a few.

“Still, having a beautiful woman practically jump his bones, and he turns craven!” the prince admonished his comrade and friend. The cavalier admission of her allure took her aback...yet she didn’t exactly mind the compliment.

“You know...I did always think you were rather dashing, prince…” she admitted…

The troupe had retired, as had a few of the partygoers. The lanterns were now dim as the lights within dwindled from sight. The Barman still did his duty and served brew and drinks to whoever asked. Though with more downtime, he could perceive a few couples that were getting a little too amorous in polite company. ‘Luckily, all the proper types left,’ the man silently mused as he looked around.

Some were far more overt, like the Nohrian thief Niles whispering something in Clarisse’s ear. The prominent bloom on her cheeks almost distracted from his hand on her thigh...almost. Not too far off was Robin with the princess of Freege herself on his lap. ‘Heh, if what that old seadog said is true, then maybe I should lock the storeroom now rather than chance it,’ the Barman chuckled.

He looked around for the most important trio - the commander and the royal siblings. Sharena was being led out the door by a concerned Camilla ‘That’s the one from the New Year’s festival’ the barman noted, but Alfonse and Anna were nowhere to be seen. ‘Now where did those two wind up I wonder?’

Things might have quieted down, but if anything the room was even hotter now. It was clear now that the tension had gotten quite thick, so now the only question was...who’d break first? The Barman slowly wiped down the bar as he scanned the room. ‘Hmm, my money’s on the ninja grabbing the kid. Then again, those two thunder mages are pretty much dry-humpin’ now…’



Two of them had finally gotten over themselves and just leapt onto the table. The patrons gawked as the festive prince and the ‘normal’ girl suckled each others lips and swapped spit. A heavy silence fell over the tavern, broken only by the sloppy moans and smacking of two Shepherds in heat.


“Holy shit!”

Like a floodgate, the crowd broke out. Cacophonous hoots and hollers spurred the two on. It was more than clear that the alcohol had pretty much thrown out any sense of moral decency, with a few other couples pulling away and leaving the scene for more...intimate, locations. The Barman simply watched on and mulled his options. He should be putting a stop to this...

“...Eh, I’ll just put the damages on Anna’s tab,” he shrugged.

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