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WIP - Putting Down Roots [Shamir/Catherine Liliraune TF]
🕑 Added 2022-01-01 07:50:22 +0000 UTC[Another Fire Emblem Three Houses story in the works! This one will not have any story spoilers for any route, though it includes details from some support conversations. This will be a much, much happier tale than the previous one! This will be a public story, but I might write a patreon-exclusive alternate ending...]
"H-hi, Catherine," Bernadetta greeted shyly as she entered the monastery's greenhouse. "I'm here now, just like you asked. You said you wanted my h-help choosing a plant?"
"Ah, Bernadetta! Thanks for coming!" Catherine flashed her usual cheery smile. "I want to give Shamir a nice carnivorous plant for our quarters, and thought you could help me pick the best one."
"Ah! I can do that!" Bernie smiled, glad that her adoration of carnivorous plants could be of help. "I can definitely help you with that! Why do you want a carnivorous plant specifically?"
"Well, don't tell anyone…" Catherine lowered her voice as she ensured nobody else was in earshot. "Shamir has a phobia of creepy crawlies. Mostly spiders, but other bugs too. Our room gets its fair share of the little things, and they distress her. Poor Shamir's gotten really good at managing her fear - in public, at least. But at home? Having one wake her up or otherwise startle her in the one place she lets her guard down still hurts her."
"Ohhh, I see. I can help you choose the right kind, but the monastery doesn't have any in here… as much as I wish there were…" Bernadetta mumbled to herself. "We'll need to get a merchant to find some. Well, unless… maybe we could ask Petra to bring some here from Brighid next time she goes home!"
—
A month later, Bernadetta had a handful of wonderful, carnivorous plants delivered to her thanks to Petra. The colloquial species name was "Tropical Sweetvine Pitcher Plant.” They were an odd looking plant, mainly featuring leafy spouts, but also thin vines drooping over the sides of their pots. Having a hyperfixation on carnivorous plants herself, Bernie of course kept a couple for herself. But as promised, she gave a pot to Catherine, who excitedly carried it home.
“Hey Shamir, it’s here!” Stepping through the door to their quarters, Catherine called out to her wife.
“Finally. Let’s get it in place right away.” Shamir said, a silver bow held tight in her grasp.
As she stepped in, Catherine saw an arrow nestled in the wall which was skewering a motionless wasp. The walls were riddled with little holes and imperfections from countless arrows shot at bugs, some larger than others, and even a few with arrowheads still lodged too firmly to pluck out.
“This one should be honoured, it was felled by the mighty Shamir’s good bow!” Catherine commented.
“My practice bow finally broke, and this was the closest one in working condition,” Shamir said as monotonously and confidently as ever, despite her evidently recent encounter with a rather large flying bug.
“Well I think you just took out our new roomie’s first meal!” Catherine said as she placed the pot on a dresser.
“Our new… roomie?” Shamir asked, unimpressed.
“Well, yeah! What else would it be?”
“Catherine, that’s a plant.”
“A plant that’s doing us a service! The least we could do is give it a name,” Catherine grinned, yanking the latest arrow from the wall. “Here you go little guy! Your first meal in the Nevrand household!” She carefully slid the wasp off the arrow, dropping it into one of its funnel-like openings.
“I hope it doesn’t expect all its meals to be hand-delivered to it like this.”
“Bernadetta says its spouts hold a sweet-smelling liquid that draws bugs in, so I trust that ol’ Cassander here will work just fine!”
“...You’re naming it your deadname?” Shamir said, genuinely shocked.
“Just as long as nobody precedes its name with ‘Thunderbolt,’ it’ll be fine,” Catherine said with a forced smile.
“Honey…” Shamir’s tone lifted as she placed a hand on her wife’s shoulder. “You’re doing this for a reason, but I can’t think of what it could be. Want to talk about it?”
Catherine sighed. “I just thought… If I named it that, maybe I could get used to hearing it a bit more. Maybe, next time someone says my deadname, I’ll think of the plant. You know, instead of my mind jumping to other memories…” Catherine looked long and hard at the plant. “It’d be nice for this mental image to come to mind when I hear my deadname. It’s an adorable little plant! I can see why Bernadetta has such a fondness for them.”
“Cute? Really?” Shamir almost let out a giggle.
“What, you don’t think this is just the most adorable thing ever?” Catherine smirked.
“Not when you’re standing right next to it~” Shamir flirted, interlocking her fingers between Catherine’s as she pecked her wife on her blushing cheek.
—
The next day, while Catherine was out of their quarters, Shamir took a seat in front of Cassander and simply observed it for a while. The rays of sunlight peering through the nearest window pierced through the plant’s leaves, giving the illusion that it was glowing a brilliant jade green. She could see the darker parts of its funnels where it was filled with its sweet, alluring juices. Its chonky lil’ vines flowed out and over the edges of the pot, the longest of which rested on the wooden surface below.
“Maybe Catherine was right… you are a cute one in your own right, aren’t you?”
Shamir, of course, got no response.
“Don’t tell Catherine I said that or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
The plant made no promises.
Idly feeling one of Cassander’s soft, almost fuzzy vines between her index finger and thumb, Shamir noticed a light warmth spread across her hand. Instinctually pulling away her arm, the heat disappeared after a moment. Curiosity, however, got the better of her as she again allowed her skin to brush up against the comforting surface of the vine. The warmth again appeared, but this time Shamir didn’t withdraw. The intrigued woman felt something - a bond of sorts - form between herself and Cassander.
“Huh…” She exhaled, her interest piqued.
As odd as it seemed, Shamir felt that a channel had opened up for her to communicate with the pitcher plant. Both woman and plant allowed each other into their hearts, beginning what was possibly the strangest conversation of Shamir’s life. No words were exchanged, as none were required: each of them could feel the other’s thoughts and desires.
The first shared thought was that of mutual appreciation: Shamir was glad Cassander was there to eliminate pests, and Cassander was happy to be in a place where it could experience many new meals.
The second shared thought was even stranger: Cassander expressed that it could give Shamir a new, floral lease on life if she so desired. It gave Shamir all the knowledge she needed to make a decision, and Shamir accepted.
Withdrawing her hand and ending their link, Shamir wondered why she had accepted the plant’s offer. She wasn’t regretting her decision, but she found it curious that she decided so swiftly to transform into a plant woman. The war was over and she was happily married, yet there was a certain appeal to the life of being a simple little plant… Of being Catherine’s simple little plant.
[The rest will hopefully be finished soon! However, I don't know how long this will end up being. If I continue to enjoy where this is heading, it may end up longer than Edelgard's Torment.]
