Fields Of Mistria March - Blog Posts

Golden view in the forge

March quick drawing rahghh

Who would win?

Summary: Just March teaching my OC Farmer Velvet how to use the forge until things started to get a bit heated and awkward.

Warning: Slight NSFW

The sounds of metallic clanging and crackling fires fill the air from the forge, creating a chaotic symphony that grabs your attention. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and burning wood, and the light of the fires from within the place casts a warm glow on the surrounding area. Amidst all this, March stands in the center, teaching Velvet the basics of forging.

March sighed as he watched Velvet struggle to hammer the metal. She was doing it all wrong, and he knew it. "No, no, no. You're doing it all wrong." he said, stepping over to her. Velvet looked up at him, a mix of frustration and determination on her face. "I'm trying my best." she said, a hint of irritation in her voice. March rolled his eyes. "Your best isn't good enough." he said bluntly. "Let me show you how it's done."

He moved close to her, positioning himself behind her. He placed his hands over hers, guiding her through the motions. "You have to hold it like this." he said gruffly, his breath warm on her ear.

Velvet felt a shiver run down her spine at the sudden closeness. She tried to focus on the instruction, but it was difficult with him so close. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the scent of his sweat and metal was oddly intoxicating.

"Now hit it." March said, his hands still covering hers. "Harder than that. Put your weight into it."

Velvet hit the metal again, but this time, she hit it harder than before, and it made a satisfying clang. "Good." March said, a hint of approval in his voice. He leaned in even closer, his chest pressed against her back. "Again. Do it again."

The farmer repeated the motion, feeling his warm breath on her neck. His body was pressed against hers, and she could feel every muscle, every contour. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. "Like this?" she managed to ask, her voice a bit breathless.

"Yeah." March said roughly. "Just like that." He was so close, she could feel his heart beating against her back. "You're getting the hang of it now." he said, loosening his grip on her hands. "Try it on your own."

Velvet took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She started to hammer the metal, but her mind was elsewhere. She could still feel the heat of his body against hers, the smell of his sweat. And then, without warning, her hand slipped and the hammer hit her thumb. "Ah shit!" she yelped, jerking away involuntarily.

March swore under his breath. "Dammit, be more careful." he said, grabbing her hand to inspect the injury. "You idiot, you could have broken your thumb."

He examined her thumb, his touch gentle despite his gruff words. His fingers were calloused but warm, and the touch sent another shiver down her spine. "It's not broken." he said, more quietly. "Just bruised."

Velvet tried to pull her hand back, but he held on. "You shouldn't be so careless." he reprimanded, his fingers still gently holding hers in his palm.

Velvet swallowed hard, feeling a flutter in her stomach. His touch was sending strange sensations through her body. "I'm sorry." she mumbled, looking away from his intense gaze. "I was just...distracted."

He grunted. "Distracted, huh?" He looked down at her, those dark onyx eyes staring right into hers. "Care to tell me what you were so distracted by?"

Feeling a bit flustered. "N-nothing." Velvet said, trying to sound casual but she sounded flustered. "Just...just the heat in here, that's all."

March raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in his eyes. "The heat, huh?" He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from hers. "You sure that's all it is? Nothing else?"

She could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of sweat and metal making it harder for her to think straight. "What...what else could it be?" she asked weakly, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Well, whatever it is, you better keep your mind on what you're doing." He released her hand, but his body was still pressed close to hers. "Now, try this again, and make sure you're paying attention this time."

Velvet tried to compose herself, taking a deep breath as she picked up the hammer and tried to concentrate on the task, but her mind kept wandering back to the way his body was so close to hers, the way his breath felt on her neck. She managed to hit the metal a few more times, but her mind was a jumble of thoughts and sensations.

March watched her intently, his eyes raking over her body. He could sense her distraction, the way her hands trembled slightly, the way her breath caught in her throat every time he got close. It was like a game of cat and mouse, and he was the cat, toying with her. He moved closer, his chest brushing against her back again. "Concentrate." he rumbled into her ear. "You're losing focus again."

She took another shaky breath. He was so close, she could almost feel his heartbeat against her back. His voice in her ear was making her feel things she had never felt before. She couldn't focus, couldn't think. All she could feel was the heat of his body, the strength in his muscles, the way he was so casually dominating her personal space.

He let his hand rest on her hip, as if to steady her. "Relax." he muttered, his breath warm on her neck. "You're too tense. You have to be loose, loose like the hammer in your hand."

His hand on her hip sent a shiver through her body. She could feel the callouses on his fingers, the warmth of his palm through her clothes. He was so strong, so confident, so sure of himself. How was he so unaffected by their closeness, when she was struggling to keep herself together?

"Like this." March said, guiding her hand again. "Keep your grip loose, let the hammer swing freely. Don't fight it, just let it flow."

March stands behind her, "Can you feel it?" he whispered. "The rhythm, the motion?"

Velvet's mind is swimming. He was too close, too distracting. His voice in her ear, his hands on hers, his body pressed against hers...it was all too much. She tried to focus on the hammer, the metal, the task at hand, but all she could feel was him. "Y-yes." she managed to stammer, her throat dry.

He chuckled, a low deep rumble in his chest. "Good." he said, his voice rough. "You're starting to get it. Keep going, let it flow."

March stepped even closer, letting his body press against hers. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the hardness of his muscles against her back. He seemed completely oblivious to the effect he was having on her, but she was struggling to stay grounded.

Her heart was racing, her mind spinning. Every inch of her body was hyper-aware of his presence, his touch, his scent. Velvet could feel the sweat trickling down her neck, could feel the heat building up inside her. And all the while, he kept murmuring instructions in her ear, completely oblivious to the fact that he was driving her insane.

March guide her through a few more motions, his hands on hers, his breath on her neck, his body pressed against hers. "There you go." he said, his voice a low rumble. "Just like that. You're doing it. Just relax, and let it flow."

Velvet only nodded, trying to focus on his words and not the way his body was making her feel. But it was difficult, so difficult. Every part of her was screaming with want, with need, with a desperation she had never felt before. And he was blissfully unaware, just continuing to guide her through the motions, his hands on hers, his body so close.

Unknown to the farmer, the blacksmith is not faring any better.

As they continued working together, March grew increasingly aware of the electricity that was crackling between them. He could feel the heat of her skin through her clothes, could smell the scent of her hair, and felt the way her body reacted to his slightest touch. It was maddening, the way she responded to him without realizing it. But he tried to keep his cool, tried to focus on the task at hand, and ignore the way his heart thumped in his chest whenever he was close to her.

He tried to concentrate on the metal, on the hammer, on the task at hand. But it was difficult, with her so close, so tangible. He could count the tiny wisps of hair on the nape of her neck, could feel her quickening breaths. He was a blacksmith, a professional, he couldn't afford to let himself be distracted by a pretty farmer. But she was making it hard, so damn hard. He clenched his jaw, and forced himself to focus on the lesson.

He guided her through another swing, his hand on hers. "Just like that." he said, his voice gravelly. "Loose, easy. Don't fight it."

March's mind is now a jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He was a grown man, for gods' sake. He was not supposed to be this affected by a woman. Especially not a farmer. But she drove him mad, made his heart race and his body feel things it hadn't felt in a long time. And the worst part was, he was pretty sure she had no idea what she was doing to him.

He took a deep breath, trying to get his emotions under control again. He could feel the heat between them, the tension in the air, like a live wire. And she was just there, so close, so unguarded, so deliciously vulnerable. He had to get a grip. He was supposed to be teaching her, not lusting after her. But damn, it was so hard when she was standing there, her back against his chest, her body molded to his.

Minutes have past as the lesson came to an end, March reluctantly released his grip on Velvet's hand. He took a step back, trying to regain his composure. His heart was still racing, his body still yearning for her closeness. But he forced himself to act nonchalant, like a blacksmith should be.

"You did well." he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. "Not too shabby, for a farmer."

Velvet looked up at him, her cheeks flushed. "Thank you" she murmured. "I...I had a good teacher."

March looked away, feeling flustered by the praise. He wasn't used to compliments, especially not from beautiful women. "It was nothing." he muttered, scratching his neck. "You've got potential. You just need to keep practicing."

There was an awkward silence, both of them feeling the aftermath of their closeness. They stood there, a few feet apart, avoiding each other's gazes. March could still feel the heat from her body, could still smell the scent of her hair. He was tempted to reach out and touch her again, to pull her close and hold her tight. But instead, he just grunted and turned away, walking over to his workbench.

"You should probably go." he said gruffly, busying himself with some tools. "You've got crops to tend to, or whatever it is farmers do."

Velvet nodded, her heart still racing. She looked at his broad back, the muscles shifting under his shirt as he worked. She wanted to say something, anything, to prolong their time together. But she knew she should probably go.

"Right." she said, her voice a bit shaky. "Um, thank you. For the lesson."

March just grunted, not looking at her. He was trying very hard to act normal, to ignore the way her voice made his chest tighten. "Yeah, sure." he said gruffly. "Come back if you need another lesson."

Velvet nodded, feeling dismissed. She walked to the door, her steps slow and reluctant. But as she reached the door, she turned to look at him one last time. He was still at his workbench, his back to her, his shoulders taut. She wanted to say something, something that would express the tangle of feelings inside her. But before she could open her mouth, March spoke, not turning to look at her.

"Try to be careful next time." he said, his voice quiet. "You almost hurt yourself earlier."

Velvet felt a pang of something, was it disappointment? Upon hearing his stern tone. But she just nodded. "I will." she said softly. "I'll be more careful."

There was another tense silence. March still didn't turn around, but he could feel her gaze on his back. He wanted to look at her, to see those beautiful eyes one last time. But he forced himself to keep his gaze fixed on his workbench.

"Good." he said finally. "Now get out of here. You're distracting me."

Velvet's heart sank a bit at his brusque words. But she didn't want to overstay her welcome. "Right." she said softly. "Goodbye, March."

"Yeah." he muttered, his voice gruff. "Goodbye."

He listened as she opened the door and stepped out, the sound of her footsteps fading away. He wanted to call her back, to tell her to stay, to-

He shook his head, ridding himself of the foolish thoughts. He was a blacksmith, not a lovestruck boy. He had to get back to work.

~END~

As the wind blows, remember that I'll come home to you.

started listening to "No Choice" by Fly By Midnight and this happened :')

March x Gender Neutral Adventurer/Farmer

-0-

You had to leave.

You didn't want to, of course you didn't, but you had to.

You were an adventurer first before you became a farmer, before you decided it was time to leave the thrill of adventure. To let your body rest, to abandon the horrors that you've seen in your years on the road and settle into this little town.

The life you had built here was nice, far nicer than you ever expected it would. You made friends, you found community. You were settling down.

But you, of all people, knew it wasn't going to last.

The missive arrived days after the last snowfall of spring. You thought it was another mail from Adeline or another letter from Errol asking to meet you and Eiland at the museum. Or maybe it was from March - you hoped it was - telling you that your ass better be at the inn that night.

A chill ran down your spine when you opened the mailbox. A single envelope sat inside, snug, the golden filigree emblazoned over the plush red on the quality paper glinted once the sunlight You didn't have to see the seal, didn't have to see the signature. Didn't have to see to know the colors of your guild.

But you were retired, right? You made sure of that. Made sure that you were off the ledgers, made sure that you would no longer be contacted.

And yet here it was, the ghosts of your past sitting prettily in the mailbox on the land that you so carefully tended.

There was a punch in your gut, a deep clutch at the pit of your stomach. You didn't want to open the envelope. Felt you already know what it said. But you did. You had to.

And felt your heart ice over.

Aldaria was at war. Every soldier, every adventurer within the central kingdom's guilds, every able combatant, retired or otherwise, are required to go to the frontlines.

No one is exempted.

Those who are to run will be deemed as traitors to the Crown and will be put to death.

Fuck.

-0-

The grief of it hit you quickly.

So much that you sat at the stone bench, one that you placed by Caldarus. You didn't think you could talk, didn't think you could form any of the words. Caldarus didn't pry. You thought he could sense what it was, anyway.

You didn't know how much time passed by. Didn't care. Not even hunger, not even the rain.

You had to leave. Immediately.

Adeline and Eiland were horrified. Elsie was rendered speechless. All of you were in tears.

You packed up quickly. It wasn't as if you had a lot of belongings, anyway, even though you've already spent several months here in Mistria. It had to be quick, it had to be soon, as your heart couldn't take it anymore.

The goodbyes were the most difficult of it. More tears, more fear. Hugs, promises to come back.

But you couldn't quite look at everyone in the eye. One person, at the back of the inn, just staring. Dark, dark eyes devoid of emotion. You noticed that his drink remained untouched, his food already cold. You didn't want to say goodbye, not to him. But you needed to.

You took him aside late into the night. His body was rigid, his eyes ice cold.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tried for a weak smile. "I guess you're right. I didn't even reach winter."

"Don't." His voice was hard, shaky. "Don't fucking blame yourself for this."

"March, I-"

He grabbed your shoulders, hard, looked directly into your eyes. "Don't die,' he murmured. "And come back when this is all done. Are we clear?"

The silence descended upon both of you as you stared at each other. Sighed. Weakly smiled.

"Clear."

And you knew, neither of you wanted to think of that promise being broken.

-0-

The day you left was a particularly rainy day.

Mistria was quiet, as if the joyous energy that usually engulfed the town was washed clean.

People tried to resume their routines, their normal, but watching you leave on horseback, alone while getting soaked, was one of the most difficult sights most of them had in recent years. And yet life has to move on. Days, weeks, months had to pass.

March was not handling it well.

He managed to easily slide back into routine. Being a tradesman, the work was never-ending, especially since he decided to expand their enterprise by accepting orders from the other surrounding towns.

It made sense to expand, especially since Mistria already rose up the ranks quickly in the months the farmer was here. Wartime was an opportunity for more profits. Times were changing and he had to catch up.

(And it wasn't because he just wanted the work to keep his mind off of you.)

Every hit of the hammer to the anvil was a second that he wasn't thinking about you.

Every nail, every screw, every project was something to keep your smile, the crinkle of delight in your eye when you give him another gift, the way the sunlight streaked your hair, out of his mind.

He didn't want to smell your scent the moment he picks up the blanket you made him. He didn't want to think about you when he eats something that you liked. He didn't want to remember the feeling of you, all the curves and angles of your body, the callouses of your hands, the scars that littered your body. He didn't want to see even the barest of glimpses of you in his dreams.

And yet he couldn't escape it. Couldn't escape the way his heart weighed him down. Couldn't escape the dull thrum of longing at the back of his head.

So he worked.

And worked.

And worked no matter how much Olric told him to take a break. No matter how much his body screamed at him to stop. Not even when Valen put her foot down and demanded he rest.

Because his hand shook when he struck that hammer. His breath hitched when he stepped away from the anvil. Because his eyes teared up when his back hit against the wall when the entirety of you consumed him, assaulted his senses, his memory.

"Fuck!"

He threw his hammer down as he crumpled to the ground, shoving his head into his lap as he breathed in the way you showed him how.

When were you coming back? He just wanted you back.

-0-

They were keeping up with the current events, of course.

It was slow all around, as messengers didn't always come or the roads were blocked off. But Balor, through his contacts, made sure that Mistria got the news as soon as possible.

The North Everett Garrison fell to the enemy a week ago and proved a heavy blow to the kingdom. Massive body counts on both sides. No news yet on those who fell.

They hoped, prayed, that you weren't there. That you weren't one of the ones who died. That you were still alive and well.

It's been over a year since you left and they still hoped.

It was three weeks after the news that another messenger arrived.

March snarled when the knock on the door came. The shop was closed, goddammit. Why can't people just leave him the fuck alone? He shoved open the door, stopped when Adeline and Eiland stood outside.

Dread pooled at the base of his stomach, his body crumbling into a cold sweat. In Adeline's hand was a familiar helmet. The perfect, silver helmet that he made for you over a year ago.

-0-

They said they couldn't find you.

When the garrison fell, it was immediately reclaimed by the arriving forces. For days, the soldiers and holy people recovered and identified the dead.

But there was nothing else that they could find of you. They only found the helmet, damaged and bloody, with March's trademark on it. By the time the forces managed to collect as much as they could, you were listed as one of the missing, potentially (probably) dead.

It was enough to send him into a spiral.

March hasn't left his room in days. The meals Olric left by his door barely touched. For days he held the helmet, his hands raw from keeping it close and tight to his chest.

His usual proud eyes were dull, the shine of it diminishing slowly ever since you left. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. This was supposed to be your start at a new life, a new beginning. He saw the grief in your eyes when you first moved in. He saw the twitchiness. He saw the strain. And he saw the way you let the shadows of your past eventually fall.

Only to be thrown back again against your will.

He couldn't feel anything. Just that steady throbbing, the heavy pulling of his heart down, down, to the depths of his despair. Couldn't feel the sunlight that streamed through his window. Couldn't feel the cold of the stone floor. Could barely feel the weight of the helmet on his lap.

Time didn't exist anymore. Every single breath he took was like inhaling shattered glass. The world seemed to have lost all color.

"March?"

"Go away, Olric."

"It's not Olric."

He whipped his head back, confusion marring itself on his face. With effort, he hauled himself off of the ground.

Opened the door.

It's been a while since you've seen him.

He's a bit thinner, a little gaunt, which worried you. A shadow of a beard rested on his face as he stood there, wide eyed, as he held your helmet in his hands.

He was just as handsome as you remembered him to be. You smiled.

"Hey, March."

He had you in his arms not one second later. You felt the shudder run through his body as his strong hands pulled you tight into his embrace. This was something that you dreamed off, the one thing that pushed you through, pushed you to survive. The thought of coming back to him was the light in your darkest days.

"March-"

"Quiet."

He took his time with you. Embracing you. Taking in your scent, memorizing your body once again. You had new scars, new injuries. But he doesn't care.

You were here and that's what mattered.

"March," you murmured as you buried you face into his shoulder, your bandaged hands digging into him like a vice. "I'm home."

He breathed in, sobbed out a sigh. Smiled.

"Welcome home, farmer."

-0-

hello, if you like my stuff i have more on my masterlist! :DD

also feel free to send some requests. I'm currently in a March headspace rn but I'm willing to try other characters too o: (might take a while to get to them tho since I'm gonna be in a convention crunch time qwq)

After FOM Full Update:

ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀ - ꜰɪᴇʟᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍɪꜱᴛʀɪᴀ ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀ - ꜱᴛᴀʀᴅᴇᴡ ᴠᴀʟʟᴇʏ

March: *who is drunk* Heeeey Farmer, you looking mighty fine today. I wish could kiss you~

Farmer: Oh...Neat!

*later*

Farmer: *lying face down on their bed holding a phone calling to their relative from Stardew Valley* I said "NEAT" right in front of everyone! Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say NEAT but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid!

Farmer: *holding their baby while using their phone* Don't beat yourself up too much, cousin.

Farmer: I will never show my face in front of everyone again! Especially to March. How can I face him without embarrassing myself?

Farmer: Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Sebastian confessed their love for me?

Farmer: Didn't you thank him?

Farmer: *stays still and looks at the ceiling* I fuc-freaking thanked him.

A/N: I made a banner and dividers (I found the stars on pinterest) 😌 look at me go. But, once again this is tagged as x reader as well. Feel free to use a word replacer for this :) (I also know that March’s eyes are black. However, I decided to take creative freedom.)

Summary: Violet has been in Mistria for just a little over a week now. But she has never experienced drunk March before.

Warnings: Just drinking at the Inn on friday night!

Settling into her new life in Mistria wasn’t hard. Violet got up everyday bright at early, watered her crops and tried to clear her farm for a few hours before she’d inevitably run up to town and buy seeds to replenish the ones she harvested. She’d stop at the inn and get some soup, talk to Hemlock or Jo when they were there. Then she’d run around a bit more, stopping in to say hi to everyone. Maybe go do some fishing or check out the Western Ruins to see if there was anything else so could donate to the museum. But there was one thing she never skipped. And it was saying hello to everyone, that was always the number one priority.

She’d never skip March. Despite his prior attitude, and as much as she wanted too. Violet had to prove to him and everyone else here that she wasn’t going anywhere. But, her first Friday in town as she shuffled into the Inn after getting her farm- mostly cleared off she was met with Reina’s bright bubbly voice.

“Violet!” She grins, running around to get to her faster. God- that action alone made her want to scoop her up into her arms and spin her around. Reina was so sweet every single time without fail. She felt like a friend that Vi could talk to for hours while laying in her lap. And normally she would share the same enthusiasm as her but, Violet ended up looking up slowly from the pure exhaustion she was experiencing; those rocks on her farm were no joke. And while Reina was always a delight to see, she just wanted soup. That creamy delightful smelling soup that was bubbling in the cauldron. Was that cheese? God she hoped it was cheese.

“Mm?” She grumbles but it doesn’t deter Reina. She quickly gets her a bowl of soup and slides in next to her. Violet's whole mood increasing tenfold as she digs in and looks at Reina.

“You have to make sure to come to the inn tonight!” Reina beams, with the stupidly gorgeous smile she had. “It’s always a blast on Friday nights! Everyone has so much fun! Tell me you’ll come!” She pleads with her. And Violet is a simple woman.

With food in her system, finally the farmer smiles. “It’s really that cool? I guess I’ll have to come check it out. But i’m working on getting the bridge repaired for the Saturday Markets. So, it might be later in the night.” She replies smiling at her new friend. Reina grins and claps, reaching to give her a hug which Violet quickly accepts. It was like hugging one of those giant stuffed bears you won at carnivals.

“Yes! That’s fine! Whenever you can!” She beams. Violet had to admit, her enthusiasm was nice. Everyone seemed so excited to integrate her into this town as if she was always apart of it. It…was refreshing. Violet gives Reina a nod.

“You have my word, I’ll be here.” Vi smiles, and she meant it. She'd be there. It would be nice to relax and hang out with everyone at the Inn, she just hoped she could get the bridge done before then.

———

It felt silly. Violet felt completely and utterly foolish. Standing in front of her mirror, just minutes before she was going to head over to the Inn trying to decide what to wear. Surely everyone would be wearing their normal everyday clothes. She kicks away the little black dress. But why- why did she care so much about her own outfit?! She could just wear her normal outfit. It would be fine. At least that was what she was trying to convince herself of. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that this might be a good chance to show off for a particular red head-

She shakes her head, "No." She says quickly pointing at herself in the mirror. "No, no, no, Violet. You are not falling for a red head! He's not even a real red head! You can see his roots! You are not doing this." She scolds herself. "This is your chance to distance yourself from anything and anyone. We are not fucking it up because we need therapy!" Violet lets out a big huff. Running her hand through her hair, and nodding. She'd just- wear this. Her normal outfit. Stripped shirt. Overall dress. Knee highs. It be fine.

Once, she enters the Inn she can see why Reina was so insistent. Everyone is there, sitting at various tables doing whatever it is- they were doing. It was bustling, it was lively...it felt like home.

"Violet!"

The Violet in question looks to see Reina rushing forward, a warm smile on her face. "You made it!" She cheers, god- she was so fucking sweet. Violet just wanted to curl up with her and pour her heart out to her. She was so wonderful, Violet can feel the smile spread.

"I told you! I wouldn't miss it!" She gives Reina a hug. Resisting the urge to melt into her arms. "But...everywhere looks so busy..." She whispers.

"Oh! Don't worry about that, just walk around and chat! Everyone kinda does their own thing, you'll find your place in time." Reina reassures. Those words- she had no idea the amount of tears Violet is holding back in that very moment.

"Y-yeah..." Violet nods, "Right." She gives Reina a nod before going over to the Eiland, Celine, Balor, Adeline, and Holt.

"Hello, Violet!" Eiland greets, his smile isn't as warm as Reina's- at least not in the same capcity. Where Reina's smile was like curling up with a blanket, in front of the fireplace on a cold winter morning? Eiland's was like the sunshine, like when you were a kid and played too hard during the summer falling to the ground and feelings the warm ground. “We’re playing Dungeons and Drama! You’re welcome to listen for a bit.” He offers.

“Yeah.” Violet nods, sitting next to Holt with a smile. Everyone introducing their characters had her smiling as she went to enjoy some of the other groups as well. She’d never tell a soul but The Bearded Bad Brad was her favorite so far.

At the next table, she played around of cards before she realized Olric was just- unbelievably lucky. She frowned, she hated loosing. And, everyone was starting to get rowdy because of his unbelievable luck. So, she politely excused herself from the table. Making her way over to the bar-

“Violet!” March said, but that was way too enthusiastic to be March. Slowly, she turned around, and it was in fact March. Or a clone of him? It had to be, standing there with the biggest smile she’d ever seen him have. Slight blush on his cheeks, “Come over here! Sit next to me!! You’re always so busy during the week!” The clone said.

“March is quite the lightweight.” Elsie speaks up. Violet looks over at the regal old woman. “But it is him, he’s a kind drunk.” She gives Violet a nod. She turns back to March.

“You’re telling me that’s not a clone?”

A roar of laughter from the bar. “No, dear.” Elsie smiles. “That very much so is March, our grumpy little blacksmith.”

“Violet!” He whines, “Come here!” He pouts even more. How could she refuse? Making her way over to the drunk March, she can’t help but smile at him. His hair was mused from him running his hands through it, his cheeks were rosy from the alcohol. His smile was contagious, especially as he realized Violet was walking toward him.

“Hi March.” She smiles gently. Her heartbeat picking up, starting to sound like a kick drum in her ears. He was so- devastatingly pretty. Up close, March looked so fucking good. His stupidly nice jawline, dazzling hazel eyes. Violet blinks- Hazel? Weren’t they black? She tries to subtly move further away, watching as the light hits them different changing the color. Making it appear a darker almost black color.

March, does not like that Violet is leaning away. He wanted to examine every part of her face. The way that her cheeks moved when she smiled, the perfect plumpness of her lips, how her eyes shimmered like jewels in the light. The purple hue catching the light like she melted down a purple sapphire and let it pool in her eyes. He also needed to know why she looked so confused, reaching a hand out he gently pressed her back into his side. “You look confused.”

“Your eyes aren’t black.” She mumbles, still looking at him like that. Almost like her gaze was pinning him to his spot.

March raises an eyebrow, smiling and letting out a small laugh. “No. They aren’t.” He grins, “Why? Do you think it make me prettier?” He says batting his perfectly dark eyelashes up at her. Violet lets out a soft laugh, wrapping an arm around his broad, sturdy shoulders. Caldarus strike her down now. She was touching him. She was touching March, and he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t pushing her off, she felt her stomach doing flips at the proximity.

“No, it just shocked me. They normally look black when you’re next to the forge.” She comments softly, still entranced by them. She wants to reach up, cup his cheek and tilt his head up so she can see them better.

“Mm.” March nods, leaning his head on her shoulder. Violet can feel her face heating at the action. She can feel eyes on her from the other patrons, and if she could muster a look at them she’d glare. But if she looks anywhere but firmly behind the bar, she’d explode. “Olric’s got them too.”

“Yeah?” She breathes, looking down at March. “Good to know.”

“Do you like them?” He looks back up at her. Violet’s breath hitches as she sees the swirls of green and brown in his eyes even better. The light from above emphasizing more of the green. “You look like an angel.”

Violet shakes her head. “Wh-what?” She says with a shocked laugh.

March gives her a big smile. Reaching up and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “You look like an angel. The light is like-“ He moves his hand around her face, to signal the halo of laughter around her.

She needs air. She needs space. She can’t do this- March can’t be that sweet. No matter what Elsie said, this had to be a clone of March and the real one was plotting her demise somewhere. “M-March…” Violet says quietly, taking a step back. But he frowns, pulling her back into him.

“I like when you say my name.” He mumbles. Still looking at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. As if he would give her the world. Violet couldn’t do this. She steps away from him, dodging his arms again.

“Goodnight March.” She whispers quickly, slapping some money down on the table to cover her food for the night and rushing out.

A/N: I know that March’s sprite has black eyes- but consider. No. Kfjjfjfksks no in all fairness I just thought it be interesting if he had hazel eyes, my brother does and they change the intensity depending on the lighting he’s in. So I thought because he’s around the forge so much it be interesting!

I haven't played "Fields of Misteria," but I've seen some playthroughs on YouTube where players interact with this npc named March. I definitely sense some enemies-to-lovers dynamic between him and the MC. ( ╹▽╹ )