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![[Twin] Her Majesty Misspoke](http://d.furaffinity.net/art/ebikiyo/1705695069/1705695068.ebikiyo_rhea_michiru_icon_final.png "Click to change the View"){kind=icon}
[Twin] Her Majesty Misspoke
One more for the Michiru catalogue. <3
I actually didn't intend to write this, but a passing comment on the draft for Facetime convinced me to do a character swap piece. This is my first Fire Emblem piece and it really shows. Don't be too harsh on it. This is also something I wanted to produce as a general kink fiction piece, so if you were expecting fat 'nuki balls in this draft, profuse apologies.
The synopsis is straightforward: Rhea flubs a line in the script for Three Houses and the cosmos, ever vengeful, decides to default on her status of religious icon and rewrite her character.
Everything that follows is history.
“We yield the floor to her majesty, Archbishop.”
The guard pivoted and knelt, and in the center of the delegation, bathed in the radiance of stained glass and holy fire, the green-haired Archbishop Rhea rose to take to the dais.
Those were her favorite words. ‘Yield’ and ‘her majesty,’ plus a sprinkling of some deferential language, never got old.
“Noble warriors of the realms,” she said, projecting her voice across the cathedral of Seiros. “Tidings to thee for coming at such a short notice.”
Banners lowered. Heads bowed out of respect. The sacred space fell blessedly silent.
Rhea let herself smile. The perks of being a godhead to millions of devout followers were multitude, but it was that most pleasing obeisance of authority that revved her engine. Really got her up in the morning when coffee and divine purpose just wouldn’t do. She stood with staff in hand, a towering goddess with flowing locks and a splendid blue and white dress, glittering with gold trim and the rather self-evident immaculacy of her figure. Rhea had run the Church of Seiros as its divine architect for hundreds of years, and now, at the apex of her power, she need not even lift a finger to upend empires. Not that she couldn’t, but who has time for that anyway?
“Our faith brings us to this moment,” she continued, “to marshal the tides of war upon our foes. It is an auspicious day, and I am certain you are prepared for what is to come.”
Rhea knew this by rote. She’d given this speech dozens of times, with different phrasing and different references to different stages of man, but the levers she pulled and the buttons she pushed were all the same. The difference was cultivating it. Dressing well-worn sophisms and metaphor in filigree, cloaking the beast of self-interest in a weave of redolent elocution. Speak clearly among the people, and you hold an audience. Flatter a king, and you shall rule the whole forever.
Three houses knelt at her feet. The Blue Lions, Golden Deer and the suitably chastised Black Eagles all mobilized for war. Professor Byleth was even among the body assembled for the task. All she had to do now was give them direction.
“By solemn advisory and without doubt in my heart, thy mission is thus. Go to the Eastern Reaches. Render justine upon our enemies, and return to this temple with the holy symbol of Anima City!”
There was a sudden silence.
Rhea blinked, realizing her mistake.
“Ah. Um.”
She cleared her throat. “I mean, er. Amhita City, yes. Amhita City. The one with the heretics in it.”
There was more silence. A cough. Rhea felt herself deflate in real time.
She pulled her minister Seteth aside and whispered to him. “What did I say?”
“You said ‘Anima City,’ ma’am,” said the minister stiffly.
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
She peered over him. The assembly was stirring in confusion.
“That’s not what I mean, I said ‘Anima City,’ not ‘Anima City.’ You know, the city of Beastmen?”
“That’s the Nabateans, ma’am. I think. One of mine.”
Rhea frowned. “Oh for me’s sake, I did it again-”
“Should we call this off, ma’am?”
“What?”
“The congregation. Reschedule it? You seem a bit…”
The minister hesitated. Rhea hunted him with her eyes. “What?” she prompted, in a tone that brokered no delay.
“... hooded. In the eyes.”
Rhea squinted at him. “Come again?”
What the loyal minister of Seiros did not and could not know was that Rhea had broken one of the cardinal rules of fiction:
Do not, under any circumstances, mix your vocabularies.
Within every setting, there are terms. And within every term is a meaning. Meanings drive the multiverse as much as fandom does, and every realm - every video game, light novel, every anime - maintains a kind of internal coherence when the actors strutting their bit across the stage say their lines correctly. Some folk also call it editing for some reason. It lends believability.
Now normally, when a character flubs their line and refers to another series entirely, it’s just a flub. You move past it. However, Archbishop Rhea did not have the metaphysical luxury of a do-over for two reasons.
One, Fire Emblem happened to be in the passing shadow of Brand New Animal that day.
And two - she shared a voice actress, Cherami Leigh, with a specific and mildly popular animal girl.
Kagemori Michiru.
The plucky protagonist of Brand New Animal.
Dark constellations aligned. A hole became a tear, and a tear became a cascade.
Her fate was sealed.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
The minister shied away. Rhea huffed indignantly, planting her hands on her hips.
Hands tipped with little black claws.
“What did you mean by that comment? ‘Hooded eyes.’ What was that supposed to mean, huh?”
A sudden injection of forcefulness caught the minister off-guard. He stumbled off the dais and ran off. Rhea snorted through her nose, unaware that her nostrils were darkening, and a mask-like shape was slowly spreading across her eyes.
“Useless. How am I supposed to talk to beastmen if they won’t…” Rhea’s eyes widened as the words caught up with her. “Answer me?”
It was ‘laypeople,’ right? That was what she meant. Layanimals. Beastpeople. Beastmen?
Which one was it? Why was it so hard to remember?
Whatever. It was some kind of righteousness, that’s all that mattered. She turned back to her audience, stacking herself up to speak, only-
They were staring too.
Slack-jawed.
Rhea felt an unexpected pang of stage fright.
“A-ahh…”
Her face lit up with tinglies. Some of it was blush. Most of it, however, was thin patches of fur.
“No need to be alarmed, citizens. Just had ahhh… a-a momentary delay! That’s all. Nothing serious at all.”
The ‘mask’ solidified into a solid pattern band. Skin disappeared under a rolling carpet of fur that simplified her face shape, thinning her MILF-y cheeks to a sleek action heroine sharpness, and with a soft *POP*, filling a short, animal muzzle.
The assembly watched this faceclaim in shock. Rhea, now a tanuki girl in the face, tried hurriedly to fill in the gaps.
“It seems that I had said… s-said ‘Amhita city’ when I really meant Anima city! The city for persecuted beastmen! Wait no, no that’s not- aw geez, ap-apologies!”
There was a sharp creaa~aak of stretching leather. The house leaders looked frantically around for its source, until they saw a pair of used sneakers poking out of the Archbishop’s glittering raiment.
“What in the devil was that? No seriously, what the heck was that? It was so loud-”
Rhea glanced around. Her sneakers - chunky things - squeaked as she pivoted left and right. It squeaked the way processed rubber and canvas ought to, which was not a sound many knights and priests expected to hear that morning. The sound of modernity shuffling in their godhead’s clothes, a miracle material that cost 1,000 yen and fit size 14 paws.
But it was what happened next that started the clamor.
*Ka-BWOOM-oom-oom-oom*
The chamber gasped as one. Rhea froze, clutching her staff protectively in both hands.
A bushy tail whipped behind her. It wasn’t long, but everyone could see it. The length ran from a flared base to a tapered tip, narrowing like an ink brush in a singular, monochromatic shade of natural blue. It clashed horribly against the gold, and the royal navy accents, like something you’d see sticking out of your trash bin late at night.
“Huh…?”
Rhea slowly unwound. She looked even more unsettled. “You are all staring at me too,” she said, in a tone more out of character than in, “That’s so weird. Is there something amiss, or is this just not my day?”
No one dared say a word. Some wondered if she could see any of this. They did however eep as Rhea’s fingers popped, plumped one at the time.
“Ugh. Look, I am your friendly neighborhood sovereign! See?”
Rhea showed her hands in a placating gesture. They were full up with pads. Her body shuddered, like a harp string plucked, and with a violent *SHUMP,* she dropped a centimeter.
“Nothing to be frightened of, dear faithful, it’s just little old Rhea Michiru!”
*SHUMP*
“Err ah- wait.”
*SHUMP*
“I think it’s-”
*SHUMP-UMP*
“See, I know it’s supposed to be-”
*SHUUUUMP*
Every flub made it worse. She descended in halting spurts, losing height every pregnant pause. And speaking of paws - they were fattening up. They hung limp as she tried to articulate the correct combination of syllables, the pads growing and crowding into one another, plump and black and soon too ridiculous to hold a staff properly.
Before long, it went clattering to the floor.
Rhea(?) flinched. Ears shot up in response, pushing the bishop’s headdress out of the way. They twitched as she unconsciously acclimated to new hearing sensitivities, as fur bristled on the inside and the out.
“Why is this so hard? I know what I’m supposed to be, I’m not just some-”
*SHUMP*
“S-some pompous-”
*SHUUUMP*
“Priest lady!”
The last of her height was wringed out in one huff. She’d gone from nearly peer to knights to markedly below the national average of Japanese women, and in that time, the dress had rumpled on the floor, the skirt too long and the sleeves hanging limp over her wrists
It occurred to her that she simply didn’t fit.
“... why am I wearing this? Do you guys know?”
The mostly not-Rhea creature gestured to her audience with her chin. They shook their heads unilaterally.
“Ahh, whatever. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this anyway-”
She pulled the shawl and the attached top over her head and fought for a good minute to get out of Seirosian vestments. When she emerged, any indication that there had been a Rhea underneath was completely gone. Her hair had darkened and came up short, her figure thinned from its venusian prime, and not a patch of her body was devoid of fur, except for the parts responsibly clothed in a scruffy street jacket and pants.
But by then, Rhea herself had vanished. As powerful as the archbishop tried to be, she was a speck compared to the great will of continuity, and for that, her efforts came to naught. Tanuki fur replaced them. Her personality, her ambitions, her lofty goals for power and rejuvenation and the forever war against Nemesis, overrun by another plot entirely, backfilled by another show’s setting details.
And it didn’t even put up a fight.
Nay, it was tricked. Parts and pieces overrun, a slow erosion by a thousand retconning cuts. Much like her dress, actually.
Michiru emerged from Rhea’s outfit, fully formed and fully ignorant. She shook the torn off her head like a dog, and panted like one too.
“Bwaaah~. That’s better. Hey guys, I’m sorry to ask, but do you happen to know where I am…? I need to get back to Anima City.”
House leaders murmured to each other. Guards advanced uneasily on the dais, halberds stayed.
“Miss… Rhea? Your majesty?”
“Rhea?” asked Michiru blankly. “Who’s that?”
A/N: There's some similarity in cause to a previous piece, Lardass Bitches of the Geofront - namely, the use of canon as a liminal concept that can interact with different canon characters. I will not pretend this is not a blatant ripoff of Pratchett's divine inspiration passage in Sourcery, not at all, but I do think it's handy for short pieces that otherwise feel inexplicable without the necessary conceit that we are essentially playing with action figures. You know what I mean? Just picking characters we like and mashing them together? Giving it a thin layer of context helps, at least in my mind; it makes the result feel less self-indulgent and give the proceedings some kind of sense, even if it's surreal in execution. It bridges that gap between the source media with, say, transformation sequences (Aladdin TV's many, many scenes come to mind) and the intrusive horny thoughts that be like 'what if they turned into each other, that'd be so cool haha totally not weird,' gives it more purpose. Some readers like that, I've found. Some aren't picky, but I don't begrudge them for that, because we're all here to get off in the end and not all of us need elaborate setup or a fig leaf of context to get there.
You can find the original here:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/.....it?usp=sharing
Posted using PostyBirb
I actually didn't intend to write this, but a passing comment on the draft for Facetime convinced me to do a character swap piece. This is my first Fire Emblem piece and it really shows. Don't be too harsh on it. This is also something I wanted to produce as a general kink fiction piece, so if you were expecting fat 'nuki balls in this draft, profuse apologies.
The synopsis is straightforward: Rhea flubs a line in the script for Three Houses and the cosmos, ever vengeful, decides to default on her status of religious icon and rewrite her character.
Everything that follows is history.
HER MAJESTY MISSPOKE
--Featuring a Goddess and an Anime Girl--“We yield the floor to her majesty, Archbishop.”
The guard pivoted and knelt, and in the center of the delegation, bathed in the radiance of stained glass and holy fire, the green-haired Archbishop Rhea rose to take to the dais.
Those were her favorite words. ‘Yield’ and ‘her majesty,’ plus a sprinkling of some deferential language, never got old.
“Noble warriors of the realms,” she said, projecting her voice across the cathedral of Seiros. “Tidings to thee for coming at such a short notice.”
Banners lowered. Heads bowed out of respect. The sacred space fell blessedly silent.
Rhea let herself smile. The perks of being a godhead to millions of devout followers were multitude, but it was that most pleasing obeisance of authority that revved her engine. Really got her up in the morning when coffee and divine purpose just wouldn’t do. She stood with staff in hand, a towering goddess with flowing locks and a splendid blue and white dress, glittering with gold trim and the rather self-evident immaculacy of her figure. Rhea had run the Church of Seiros as its divine architect for hundreds of years, and now, at the apex of her power, she need not even lift a finger to upend empires. Not that she couldn’t, but who has time for that anyway?
“Our faith brings us to this moment,” she continued, “to marshal the tides of war upon our foes. It is an auspicious day, and I am certain you are prepared for what is to come.”
Rhea knew this by rote. She’d given this speech dozens of times, with different phrasing and different references to different stages of man, but the levers she pulled and the buttons she pushed were all the same. The difference was cultivating it. Dressing well-worn sophisms and metaphor in filigree, cloaking the beast of self-interest in a weave of redolent elocution. Speak clearly among the people, and you hold an audience. Flatter a king, and you shall rule the whole forever.
Three houses knelt at her feet. The Blue Lions, Golden Deer and the suitably chastised Black Eagles all mobilized for war. Professor Byleth was even among the body assembled for the task. All she had to do now was give them direction.
“By solemn advisory and without doubt in my heart, thy mission is thus. Go to the Eastern Reaches. Render justine upon our enemies, and return to this temple with the holy symbol of Anima City!”
There was a sudden silence.
Rhea blinked, realizing her mistake.
“Ah. Um.”
She cleared her throat. “I mean, er. Amhita City, yes. Amhita City. The one with the heretics in it.”
There was more silence. A cough. Rhea felt herself deflate in real time.
She pulled her minister Seteth aside and whispered to him. “What did I say?”
“You said ‘Anima City,’ ma’am,” said the minister stiffly.
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
She peered over him. The assembly was stirring in confusion.
“That’s not what I mean, I said ‘Anima City,’ not ‘Anima City.’ You know, the city of Beastmen?”
“That’s the Nabateans, ma’am. I think. One of mine.”
Rhea frowned. “Oh for me’s sake, I did it again-”
“Should we call this off, ma’am?”
“What?”
“The congregation. Reschedule it? You seem a bit…”
The minister hesitated. Rhea hunted him with her eyes. “What?” she prompted, in a tone that brokered no delay.
“... hooded. In the eyes.”
Rhea squinted at him. “Come again?”
What the loyal minister of Seiros did not and could not know was that Rhea had broken one of the cardinal rules of fiction:
Do not, under any circumstances, mix your vocabularies.
Within every setting, there are terms. And within every term is a meaning. Meanings drive the multiverse as much as fandom does, and every realm - every video game, light novel, every anime - maintains a kind of internal coherence when the actors strutting their bit across the stage say their lines correctly. Some folk also call it editing for some reason. It lends believability.
Now normally, when a character flubs their line and refers to another series entirely, it’s just a flub. You move past it. However, Archbishop Rhea did not have the metaphysical luxury of a do-over for two reasons.
One, Fire Emblem happened to be in the passing shadow of Brand New Animal that day.
And two - she shared a voice actress, Cherami Leigh, with a specific and mildly popular animal girl.
Kagemori Michiru.
The plucky protagonist of Brand New Animal.
Dark constellations aligned. A hole became a tear, and a tear became a cascade.
Her fate was sealed.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
The minister shied away. Rhea huffed indignantly, planting her hands on her hips.
Hands tipped with little black claws.
“What did you mean by that comment? ‘Hooded eyes.’ What was that supposed to mean, huh?”
A sudden injection of forcefulness caught the minister off-guard. He stumbled off the dais and ran off. Rhea snorted through her nose, unaware that her nostrils were darkening, and a mask-like shape was slowly spreading across her eyes.
“Useless. How am I supposed to talk to beastmen if they won’t…” Rhea’s eyes widened as the words caught up with her. “Answer me?”
It was ‘laypeople,’ right? That was what she meant. Layanimals. Beastpeople. Beastmen?
Which one was it? Why was it so hard to remember?
Whatever. It was some kind of righteousness, that’s all that mattered. She turned back to her audience, stacking herself up to speak, only-
They were staring too.
Slack-jawed.
Rhea felt an unexpected pang of stage fright.
“A-ahh…”
Her face lit up with tinglies. Some of it was blush. Most of it, however, was thin patches of fur.
“No need to be alarmed, citizens. Just had ahhh… a-a momentary delay! That’s all. Nothing serious at all.”
The ‘mask’ solidified into a solid pattern band. Skin disappeared under a rolling carpet of fur that simplified her face shape, thinning her MILF-y cheeks to a sleek action heroine sharpness, and with a soft *POP*, filling a short, animal muzzle.
The assembly watched this faceclaim in shock. Rhea, now a tanuki girl in the face, tried hurriedly to fill in the gaps.
“It seems that I had said… s-said ‘Amhita city’ when I really meant Anima city! The city for persecuted beastmen! Wait no, no that’s not- aw geez, ap-apologies!”
There was a sharp creaa~aak of stretching leather. The house leaders looked frantically around for its source, until they saw a pair of used sneakers poking out of the Archbishop’s glittering raiment.
“What in the devil was that? No seriously, what the heck was that? It was so loud-”
Rhea glanced around. Her sneakers - chunky things - squeaked as she pivoted left and right. It squeaked the way processed rubber and canvas ought to, which was not a sound many knights and priests expected to hear that morning. The sound of modernity shuffling in their godhead’s clothes, a miracle material that cost 1,000 yen and fit size 14 paws.
But it was what happened next that started the clamor.
*Ka-BWOOM-oom-oom-oom*
The chamber gasped as one. Rhea froze, clutching her staff protectively in both hands.
A bushy tail whipped behind her. It wasn’t long, but everyone could see it. The length ran from a flared base to a tapered tip, narrowing like an ink brush in a singular, monochromatic shade of natural blue. It clashed horribly against the gold, and the royal navy accents, like something you’d see sticking out of your trash bin late at night.
“Huh…?”
Rhea slowly unwound. She looked even more unsettled. “You are all staring at me too,” she said, in a tone more out of character than in, “That’s so weird. Is there something amiss, or is this just not my day?”
No one dared say a word. Some wondered if she could see any of this. They did however eep as Rhea’s fingers popped, plumped one at the time.
“Ugh. Look, I am your friendly neighborhood sovereign! See?”
Rhea showed her hands in a placating gesture. They were full up with pads. Her body shuddered, like a harp string plucked, and with a violent *SHUMP,* she dropped a centimeter.
“Nothing to be frightened of, dear faithful, it’s just little old Rhea Michiru!”
*SHUMP*
“Err ah- wait.”
*SHUMP*
“I think it’s-”
*SHUMP-UMP*
“See, I know it’s supposed to be-”
*SHUUUUMP*
Every flub made it worse. She descended in halting spurts, losing height every pregnant pause. And speaking of paws - they were fattening up. They hung limp as she tried to articulate the correct combination of syllables, the pads growing and crowding into one another, plump and black and soon too ridiculous to hold a staff properly.
Before long, it went clattering to the floor.
Rhea(?) flinched. Ears shot up in response, pushing the bishop’s headdress out of the way. They twitched as she unconsciously acclimated to new hearing sensitivities, as fur bristled on the inside and the out.
“Why is this so hard? I know what I’m supposed to be, I’m not just some-”
*SHUMP*
“S-some pompous-”
*SHUUUMP*
“Priest lady!”
The last of her height was wringed out in one huff. She’d gone from nearly peer to knights to markedly below the national average of Japanese women, and in that time, the dress had rumpled on the floor, the skirt too long and the sleeves hanging limp over her wrists
It occurred to her that she simply didn’t fit.
“... why am I wearing this? Do you guys know?”
The mostly not-Rhea creature gestured to her audience with her chin. They shook their heads unilaterally.
“Ahh, whatever. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this anyway-”
She pulled the shawl and the attached top over her head and fought for a good minute to get out of Seirosian vestments. When she emerged, any indication that there had been a Rhea underneath was completely gone. Her hair had darkened and came up short, her figure thinned from its venusian prime, and not a patch of her body was devoid of fur, except for the parts responsibly clothed in a scruffy street jacket and pants.
But by then, Rhea herself had vanished. As powerful as the archbishop tried to be, she was a speck compared to the great will of continuity, and for that, her efforts came to naught. Tanuki fur replaced them. Her personality, her ambitions, her lofty goals for power and rejuvenation and the forever war against Nemesis, overrun by another plot entirely, backfilled by another show’s setting details.
And it didn’t even put up a fight.
Nay, it was tricked. Parts and pieces overrun, a slow erosion by a thousand retconning cuts. Much like her dress, actually.
Michiru emerged from Rhea’s outfit, fully formed and fully ignorant. She shook the torn off her head like a dog, and panted like one too.
“Bwaaah~. That’s better. Hey guys, I’m sorry to ask, but do you happen to know where I am…? I need to get back to Anima City.”
House leaders murmured to each other. Guards advanced uneasily on the dais, halberds stayed.
“Miss… Rhea? Your majesty?”
“Rhea?” asked Michiru blankly. “Who’s that?”
A/N: There's some similarity in cause to a previous piece, Lardass Bitches of the Geofront - namely, the use of canon as a liminal concept that can interact with different canon characters. I will not pretend this is not a blatant ripoff of Pratchett's divine inspiration passage in Sourcery, not at all, but I do think it's handy for short pieces that otherwise feel inexplicable without the necessary conceit that we are essentially playing with action figures. You know what I mean? Just picking characters we like and mashing them together? Giving it a thin layer of context helps, at least in my mind; it makes the result feel less self-indulgent and give the proceedings some kind of sense, even if it's surreal in execution. It bridges that gap between the source media with, say, transformation sequences (Aladdin TV's many, many scenes come to mind) and the intrusive horny thoughts that be like 'what if they turned into each other, that'd be so cool haha totally not weird,' gives it more purpose. Some readers like that, I've found. Some aren't picky, but I don't begrudge them for that, because we're all here to get off in the end and not all of us need elaborate setup or a fig leaf of context to get there.
You can find the original here:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/.....it?usp=sharing
Posted using PostyBirb
Category Story / Transformation
Species Tanuki
Size 1000 x 1000px
File Size 163.8 kB
While it's 'reserved' compared to some content (and much of my own) I have to agree with your last comment that this is an incredibly intriguing sort of excuse plot and the general philosophy behind it.
Sometimes you just have an 'idea' for some kind of transformation or change and plot be damned that's the plot and canon is going to be the cannon that sounds off whatever new persona or person or whatever-might-be that they're about to become.
In any regards I also like the choice of characters. More tanuki is always great, the 'fun' of less a more stylized anime-gal overwriting Rhea's reserved by contrast fantasy nature is itself a cool idea, and I've felt like this sort of concept is ripe for lots of exploration in many different contexts for some time.
Sometimes you just have an 'idea' for some kind of transformation or change and plot be damned that's the plot and canon is going to be the cannon that sounds off whatever new persona or person or whatever-might-be that they're about to become.
In any regards I also like the choice of characters. More tanuki is always great, the 'fun' of less a more stylized anime-gal overwriting Rhea's reserved by contrast fantasy nature is itself a cool idea, and I've felt like this sort of concept is ripe for lots of exploration in many different contexts for some time.
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