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avaciilmoments during and after the war where jeorge finds himself in kris' orbit.
»»-------------¤-------------««
If I said I'd taken an interest in you, would you believe me?
He looks deep into her eyes as he kisses her hair.
She flushes a deep red and denies him (very quickly, he notes), assuring him (or mostly herself) that he was up to another scheme.
He laughs, holding his hands up (and to his disappointment, letting go of her hair), and surrenders that he wouldn't deny her claim. But soon he hovers over her, and whispers low into her ear;
But please remember, there's a man here who's counting on your survival.
»»-------------¤-------------««
Jeorge is, to say the least, a patient man.
No doubt that it's a trait that comes packaged in mastering the bow and arrow, but he finds that it also stems from his roots of cold, ruthless calculus; to look at those lesser than him as simple chess pieces to get what he wants. He hates the blood that runs in him that makes him this way, but he'd be a fool to argue if it didn't aid him in many situations.
And in moments like this, he finds himself ever grateful for it.
Kris is stunning, and that's not an understatement: she's quick on her feet, holds a sword with such grace, and intelligent to the boot. She's predictable with her undying loyalty to Marth, yet an enigma when it came to her own wants and needs.
However, despite all of that, the idea of romance to her is little to nonexistent.
It's as if the idea of a man courting her isn't possible in the plane of existence they're in. She doesn't find herself attractive enough for such, lacking feminine qualities, showing no interest for any men in the army (and Luke needs to learn to zip his mouth).
Jeorge doesn't mind waiting. He wouldn't dare make the dark circles under her eyes more defined than they already are. They're all burdened with the war after all.
»»-------------¤-------------««
Sometimes, Jeorge finds himself at his wits end when it comes to Kris.
"Kris!"
Jeorge finishes off the last of the assassins hiding in the hills before turning towards Prince Marth's direction. Kris slumps to the ground with her sword sheathed, her face pale in complexion. One of the assassins standing before her looks at Kris in shock, tears rolling down her cheeks. Nosferatu falls out of the assassin's hands and onto the ground. Jeorge's heart nearly stops.
"I-, Kris, Prince Marth, I'm-"
"Katarina, be at peace, Kris will manage with some healing, you weren't at fault."
Ah.
He watches as Prince Marth gestures Malicia to come over and use her staff. The assassin- no, Katarina drops down to Kris and whispers apologies as she holds her hand tight.
It takes Jeorge all of his willpower to not drop his weapon and run swiftly to Kris' side. He finds himself thinking of what-ifs and starts getting frustrated in not foreseeing these events and how maybe, he could have prevented this-
"Sir Jeorge?"
"Yes, Prince Marth?"
The Altean prince looks at him with a soft expression. He's worried about the archer as well. "Would you like to help Kris to the medical tents?"
Jeorge quickly nods, wordlessly making his way to the small knight. He feels the tremble in his hands when he picks her up. (She's cold). The weight in his chest gets heavier. (Her breathing is shaky). He wonders about her recklessness, and how her loyalty knows no bounds to both her liege and her friends. Katarina follows Jeorge with hiccups and sobs, but he knows Kris wouldn't blame her. (But doesn't she know that she's no good dead and that he needs her too?).
That same night when Kris wakes up to find Jeorge and a sleeping Katarina by her side, Jeorge looks at her with a serious expression and with a hoarse voice: "You scared me out there."
She looks apologetically at him and grips tightly at the bedsheets. "I'm sorry."
»»-------------¤-------------««
The war ends in triumph success. Banquets are held, a lot of dancing, singing, laughing. People amongst the army start sharing their own view of the war, their victories, their close calls.
And all too soon, the relative quiet peace and calm gets disturbed by small skirmishes that were leftover from the chaos throughout the continent.
Jeorge knew his time with Kris would eventually be cut short, they had their own duties to fulfill and their own ways to rebuild the land: Jeorge would lead the Archanean Rangers to protect the country's people, while Kris would serve as King Marth's leading adviser.
There is no fanfare or tearful goodbyes before he leaves. Jeorge manages to find her in his final minutes. He holds her hand fondly and presses his lips against her knuckles, promising to write to her.
She gets flustered (like always), but for the first time, she doesn't deny him, and responds, though with her eyes averted, that she looks forward to his letters.
His heart soars.
»»-------------¤-------------««
Midia's burning holes into Jeorge's back after he finished reporting the Archanean Rangers' activities to King Marth.
"You've been exchanging letters with Kris."
"Indeed, I have."
"Are you interested in her?"
"And if I am?"
She narrows her eyes. "You're a frivolous man, Jeorge. Kris is my friend, and I have the right to be concerned."
"Oh? I expected this talk to be from Katarina, to be quite honest."
"Jeorge!"
He chuckles, "With all due respect, Midia, I don't intend on giving up nor do I plan on making Kris feel sad."
"Are you truly serious?"
He stops in his tracks and the paladin almost bumps into him. Jeorge turns to face her, the playful tone earlier not apparent on his face. "If I said that I was about as serious as Astram is for you, and you for Astram, would you accept me then?"
Midia's hardened expression remains, but seemingly accepts it as she turns around and stomps towards the training grounds.
It's later that day when Jeorge runs into Astram who immediately gave the archer a pat on the back and a congratulations for being able to survive Midia's wrath and wonders what he's done to get on her nerves.
»»-------------¤-------------««
The letters keep him company throughout the months, even when he doesn't get new ones immediately when he's out on patrolling the border, he finds himself reading the letters again and again by the campfire, tracing her neat penmanship and wondering what kind of feelings and thoughts she had as she wrote to him. His heart swells knowing how she takes the time out of her day to always at least write a page to him.
But there's a certain yearning that comes to being a bachelor that ever had feelings for a girl. As much as he wants to see Kris, to hear her, to touch her, they're both - unfortunately - very busy people, much to Jeorge's disdain.
When he was able to come back to the castle for reports, sometimes he spots Kris from afar working tirelessly with King Marth or running errands and passing along info and commands from point A to point B. Other days, she might not even be at the castle at all, and meeting up with representatives of foreign countries.
Unlucky how their schedules never match in pace. And he finds that his plan might take a bit longer than he had originally calculated.
»»-------------¤-------------««
He practices out at the shooting gallery early in the morning when he does sleep at the castle. He listens to the arrows cutting through the air and land on the target with a distant thud, it's a sound he never really tires.
"Jeorge?"
If Jeorge was a poorer archer, his fingers might have slipped. He stops and takes a moment. He allows the arrow to fly to the dead center of the target before turning to the visitor he least expected.
"Kris," he breathes, "Does anyone ever tell you not to sneak up like that?"
She laughs and pokes him in the ribs. "I wondered who was here so early in the morning making such noise, but sure enough, it's the 'finest archer in the continent'. I'm sure you can handle a small person like me."
"If it was an enemy that did such a thing, I'm sure things would have been grim," he smirks.
She pokes him again as if to reprimand him. "Don't say that!"
"Well, I wasn't expecting you to just walk up and start chatting with me, you know? Let alone drop all formalities." He chuckles.
Kris turns a bright red. "Erm, I-I mean... Well... all we've done is exchange letters after the war, but we hadn't gotten the time to see each other since then. And now that things are more settled in the palace, I thought that, erm..."
"Oh?" This he didn't expect.
"That I want to meet with you? Is it wrong for me to want that?"
Jeorge can barely contain his happiness. "No, not at all. In fact, you don't need to act so reserved then. Whenever I'm here, I'm always free for you."
"If you keep saying stuff like that, it's no wonder people would think of you to be a frivolous man."
"I only say such things to you, Kris."
He wonders if his eyes were playing tricks on him, because she softly smiles when she says: "I know."
»»-------------¤-------------««
He would have never expected to be the one that's one step behind.
When they share their first kiss, her hands are on his as he caresses her face. He watches her as she flicks her gaze from his mouth to his eyes and in that moment, he finds her to be beautiful: He dips down and presses his lips against hers.
Not wanting to overstep any boundaries, he's quick in the kiss and briefly parts. He lets what just happened soak in and for once his mind draws a blank.
Kris flutters her eyes open, and looks at him. "I love you."
And it dawns on him that she is the first one to admit it of the two of them.
Soon she nudges him when she leans up, and he indulges her and kisses her once more with a bit more force because now he knows that she wants him just as much as he wants her. When they look at each other with content sighs, they both smile and laugh.
"And I, you."
»»-------------¤-------------««
During the war, Astram often described to Jeorge what it was like to be in love: how much he adored Midia, how she was like a goddess that came down from the heavens with unparalleled beauty, how he worried for her whenever she was out on the battlefield, how even in their disagreements, they find themselves to love each other with the moments in-between. At the time, Jeorge thought of Astram to be entertaining, albeit a bit over-the-top in his description.
But he gets it.
To Jeorge, Kris was not another chess piece on the board. Her loyalty knew no bounds for both King Marth and her friends. He found her to be beautiful from day one even when she denied of such and called herself more of a man than a woman. She carved herself a place in the army where she bridges the old army with newcomers, and ultimately, carved a place in his heart.
He finds himself slipping his fingers between hers and indulges himself in the woman who has come to accept him as a whole.
»»-------------¤-------------««
Author's Notes: wowie!! it's been a long time since i posted a fic (the last one i wrote was a corrin/leo for fe:fates but i deleted it lol ;;; ). i ended up getting some motivation from a friend who's also a huge fan of jeorge. i've been chipping away at this for a while, and i had a fun time writing this! there's not enough jeorge/kris fics out there to satisfy me, so here's my attempt at fixing that.
If I said I'd taken an interest in you, would you believe me?
He looks deep into her eyes as he kisses her hair.
She flushes a deep red and denies him (very quickly, he notes), assuring him (or mostly herself) that he was up to another scheme.
He laughs, holding his hands up (and to his disappointment, letting go of her hair), and surrenders that he wouldn't deny her claim. But soon he hovers over her, and whispers low into her ear;
But please remember, there's a man here who's counting on your survival.
Jeorge is, to say the least, a patient man.
No doubt that it's a trait that comes packaged in mastering the bow and arrow, but he finds that it also stems from his roots of cold, ruthless calculus; to look at those lesser than him as simple chess pieces to get what he wants. He hates the blood that runs in him that makes him this way, but he'd be a fool to argue if it didn't aid him in many situations.
And in moments like this, he finds himself ever grateful for it.
Kris is stunning, and that's not an understatement: she's quick on her feet, holds a sword with such grace, and intelligent to the boot. She's predictable with her undying loyalty to Marth, yet an enigma when it came to her own wants and needs.
However, despite all of that, the idea of romance to her is little to nonexistent.
It's as if the idea of a man courting her isn't possible in the plane of existence they're in. She doesn't find herself attractive enough for such, lacking feminine qualities, showing no interest for any men in the army (and Luke needs to learn to zip his mouth).
Jeorge doesn't mind waiting. He wouldn't dare make the dark circles under her eyes more defined than they already are. They're all burdened with the war after all.
Sometimes, Jeorge finds himself at his wits end when it comes to Kris.
"Kris!"
Jeorge finishes off the last of the assassins hiding in the hills before turning towards Prince Marth's direction. Kris slumps to the ground with her sword sheathed, her face pale in complexion. One of the assassins standing before her looks at Kris in shock, tears rolling down her cheeks. Nosferatu falls out of the assassin's hands and onto the ground. Jeorge's heart nearly stops.
"I-, Kris, Prince Marth, I'm-"
"Katarina, be at peace, Kris will manage with some healing, you weren't at fault."
Ah.
He watches as Prince Marth gestures Malicia to come over and use her staff. The assassin- no, Katarina drops down to Kris and whispers apologies as she holds her hand tight.
It takes Jeorge all of his willpower to not drop his weapon and run swiftly to Kris' side. He finds himself thinking of what-ifs and starts getting frustrated in not foreseeing these events and how maybe, he could have prevented this-
"Sir Jeorge?"
"Yes, Prince Marth?"
The Altean prince looks at him with a soft expression. He's worried about the archer as well. "Would you like to help Kris to the medical tents?"
Jeorge quickly nods, wordlessly making his way to the small knight. He feels the tremble in his hands when he picks her up. (She's cold). The weight in his chest gets heavier. (Her breathing is shaky). He wonders about her recklessness, and how her loyalty knows no bounds to both her liege and her friends. Katarina follows Jeorge with hiccups and sobs, but he knows Kris wouldn't blame her. (But doesn't she know that she's no good dead and that he needs her too?).
That same night when Kris wakes up to find Jeorge and a sleeping Katarina by her side, Jeorge looks at her with a serious expression and with a hoarse voice: "You scared me out there."
She looks apologetically at him and grips tightly at the bedsheets. "I'm sorry."
The war ends in triumph success. Banquets are held, a lot of dancing, singing, laughing. People amongst the army start sharing their own view of the war, their victories, their close calls.
And all too soon, the relative quiet peace and calm gets disturbed by small skirmishes that were leftover from the chaos throughout the continent.
Jeorge knew his time with Kris would eventually be cut short, they had their own duties to fulfill and their own ways to rebuild the land: Jeorge would lead the Archanean Rangers to protect the country's people, while Kris would serve as King Marth's leading adviser.
There is no fanfare or tearful goodbyes before he leaves. Jeorge manages to find her in his final minutes. He holds her hand fondly and presses his lips against her knuckles, promising to write to her.
She gets flustered (like always), but for the first time, she doesn't deny him, and responds, though with her eyes averted, that she looks forward to his letters.
His heart soars.
Midia's burning holes into Jeorge's back after he finished reporting the Archanean Rangers' activities to King Marth.
"You've been exchanging letters with Kris."
"Indeed, I have."
"Are you interested in her?"
"And if I am?"
She narrows her eyes. "You're a frivolous man, Jeorge. Kris is my friend, and I have the right to be concerned."
"Oh? I expected this talk to be from Katarina, to be quite honest."
"Jeorge!"
He chuckles, "With all due respect, Midia, I don't intend on giving up nor do I plan on making Kris feel sad."
"Are you truly serious?"
He stops in his tracks and the paladin almost bumps into him. Jeorge turns to face her, the playful tone earlier not apparent on his face. "If I said that I was about as serious as Astram is for you, and you for Astram, would you accept me then?"
Midia's hardened expression remains, but seemingly accepts it as she turns around and stomps towards the training grounds.
It's later that day when Jeorge runs into Astram who immediately gave the archer a pat on the back and a congratulations for being able to survive Midia's wrath and wonders what he's done to get on her nerves.
The letters keep him company throughout the months, even when he doesn't get new ones immediately when he's out on patrolling the border, he finds himself reading the letters again and again by the campfire, tracing her neat penmanship and wondering what kind of feelings and thoughts she had as she wrote to him. His heart swells knowing how she takes the time out of her day to always at least write a page to him.
But there's a certain yearning that comes to being a bachelor that ever had feelings for a girl. As much as he wants to see Kris, to hear her, to touch her, they're both - unfortunately - very busy people, much to Jeorge's disdain.
When he was able to come back to the castle for reports, sometimes he spots Kris from afar working tirelessly with King Marth or running errands and passing along info and commands from point A to point B. Other days, she might not even be at the castle at all, and meeting up with representatives of foreign countries.
Unlucky how their schedules never match in pace. And he finds that his plan might take a bit longer than he had originally calculated.
He practices out at the shooting gallery early in the morning when he does sleep at the castle. He listens to the arrows cutting through the air and land on the target with a distant thud, it's a sound he never really tires.
"Jeorge?"
If Jeorge was a poorer archer, his fingers might have slipped. He stops and takes a moment. He allows the arrow to fly to the dead center of the target before turning to the visitor he least expected.
"Kris," he breathes, "Does anyone ever tell you not to sneak up like that?"
She laughs and pokes him in the ribs. "I wondered who was here so early in the morning making such noise, but sure enough, it's the 'finest archer in the continent'. I'm sure you can handle a small person like me."
"If it was an enemy that did such a thing, I'm sure things would have been grim," he smirks.
She pokes him again as if to reprimand him. "Don't say that!"
"Well, I wasn't expecting you to just walk up and start chatting with me, you know? Let alone drop all formalities." He chuckles.
Kris turns a bright red. "Erm, I-I mean... Well... all we've done is exchange letters after the war, but we hadn't gotten the time to see each other since then. And now that things are more settled in the palace, I thought that, erm..."
"Oh?" This he didn't expect.
"That I want to meet with you? Is it wrong for me to want that?"
Jeorge can barely contain his happiness. "No, not at all. In fact, you don't need to act so reserved then. Whenever I'm here, I'm always free for you."
"If you keep saying stuff like that, it's no wonder people would think of you to be a frivolous man."
"I only say such things to you, Kris."
He wonders if his eyes were playing tricks on him, because she softly smiles when she says: "I know."
He would have never expected to be the one that's one step behind.
When they share their first kiss, her hands are on his as he caresses her face. He watches her as she flicks her gaze from his mouth to his eyes and in that moment, he finds her to be beautiful: He dips down and presses his lips against hers.
Not wanting to overstep any boundaries, he's quick in the kiss and briefly parts. He lets what just happened soak in and for once his mind draws a blank.
Kris flutters her eyes open, and looks at him. "I love you."
And it dawns on him that she is the first one to admit it of the two of them.
Soon she nudges him when she leans up, and he indulges her and kisses her once more with a bit more force because now he knows that she wants him just as much as he wants her. When they look at each other with content sighs, they both smile and laugh.
"And I, you."
During the war, Astram often described to Jeorge what it was like to be in love: how much he adored Midia, how she was like a goddess that came down from the heavens with unparalleled beauty, how he worried for her whenever she was out on the battlefield, how even in their disagreements, they find themselves to love each other with the moments in-between. At the time, Jeorge thought of Astram to be entertaining, albeit a bit over-the-top in his description.
But he gets it.
To Jeorge, Kris was not another chess piece on the board. Her loyalty knew no bounds for both King Marth and her friends. He found her to be beautiful from day one even when she denied of such and called herself more of a man than a woman. She carved herself a place in the army where she bridges the old army with newcomers, and ultimately, carved a place in his heart.
He finds himself slipping his fingers between hers and indulges himself in the woman who has come to accept him as a whole.
Author's Notes: wowie!! it's been a long time since i posted a fic (the last one i wrote was a corrin/leo for fe:fates but i deleted it lol ;;; ). i ended up getting some motivation from a friend who's also a huge fan of jeorge. i've been chipping away at this for a while, and i had a fun time writing this! there's not enough jeorge/kris fics out there to satisfy me, so here's my attempt at fixing that.