perfectionist-prince - Tumblr blog

[perfectionist-prince]

archived 5.23.24

hello all! kensa here! this is just a post to say that as of may 23rd, 2024, this account has been archived. it has taken me almost a year and a half to work up the courage to write this final post, and here we finally are.

toa was a wonderful experience. i will always look back fondly on the memories I was able to make there, and the skills I was able to hone as a writer. while I made many mistakes which I will forever be sorry for, I am grateful for my experience within the group, as it has allowed me to grow into a far better person than I ever was before.

if you want to contact me for any reason, feel free to add me on discord (@/nimine54). i am always open to dms, be it to discuss anything that happened, or to start anew.

thank you for your kindness, and good yard ✨

[perfectionist-prince]

Quality Family Time feat. a Robbery ❁ Hinoka & Siegbert

spearingskies​:

“Please no,” Hinoka laughs, shaking her head in response to Siegbert’s declaration; she does not recall when she last felt this embarrassed. “I am not going to look half as wonderful once I start tripping against my own feet… I don’t recall when I last wore something this - ugh - long…”

But her expression softens quickly once they stand before the mirror together. To find a mother more proud of her child than she is would be a challenge worthy of the best contestants; her son stands true and tall (very tall, by the Dragons) beside her, pride and joy to Hinoka, Xander and both their nations whose blood runs combined through his veins in perfect harmony.

To think that a year or two ago, when presented with the prospect, she would have found it the most ridiculous idea in the world, thinking of the Nohrian heir as no more than a target for her spear. How times have changed; how far they have come since.

“Any rat would have to make it past me before he could face your father,” she chuckles, shooting Siegbert a wink filled with hardy determination. “And few would be capable of that feat to begin with.”

Running her hand through her hair one last time, slightly adjusting the white lily adorning her head, she sighs, before turning back to her son. However unusual a situation this is to her, no situation that she gets to face with him by her side will be that harrowing an ordeal. The world cannot throw them a hurdle they will not conquer, and a single thief especially will fall before with ease.

“Now then. I believe we’re ready, in all ways?” She asks one last time, snapping her fingers by his side to poke at the spot where she knew he had planned to conceal a weapon. Hinoka’s own arsenal of a dagger, a set of throwing knives, and a poison needle tucked neatly right underneath her flower hairpin is all present and accounted for, even if, looking at her, no one would be able to tell.

She is, after all, a daughter of the ninja nation. 

“If yes, then it’s time to get out there. You remember the signal to give if you spot the thief, I hope?”

“Please, mother, do you think so little of me? I would never let you fall.” So long as she held onto his arm, she should be fine, right? Right. No mishaps tonight—not when there was a mission on the line. (Despite the fact that this entire situation reeked of a trap.)

Siegbert breaks his gaze with his reflection to grin down at his mother, a certain mischief glimmering in his eyes. “Of course, mother. You are absolutely correct.”

Hinoka's fingers brush against his side; her dexterous touch could no doubt pick out the sheath of his dagger. Humming, he raises his own hand to trace against her hairpin and the weapon it conceals.

“I believe we both are,” he affirms. “And, yes, I know the signal—you only drilled it into my head a million times last night and this morning.” It was a simple one, easy to blend into casual conversation: mention the gardens. Lovely night for a stroll amid the flowers, isn’t it, my beloved?

He holds his arm out for her to take. For the time being, they were not mother and son, but the best-dressed couple at Duke Maxifeld’s soiree. “Shall we?”

[perfectionist-prince]

His smile is watery at best. Salt burns his tongue, but nothing can stop the tears blinked away from his eyes. Siegbert raises Hinoka’s hand to his lips and presses a delicate kiss to her knuckles, lingering against her skin, as though afraid she might slip away if he let go.

It’s happened before. (The Deeprealms were cruel.)

(But that never had to happen again.)

Her voice is a lullaby for dragons, a reminder of fate’s love. He presses her palm against his cheek, leaning into her touch like an affection-starved babe.

“Everyone is home. You were away for a little less than a month. It’s okay, now, mother.”

And his head presses into her chest, the shaking of his shoulders the only sign of his weeping.

“Good morning,” he whispers. “Good morning, mother. Good morning.”

Lost family returns from between pages and ink in the midst of the night. The whispers spread even through the darkness of the monastery, from door to door and ear to ear until Siegbert shoots up in his bed, staring wide-eyed at his younger classmate peeking their head into his doorway with a grin. 

“Your mom’s back from the mission.”

Prince jumps to his feet before the sentence is finished. 

No time for proper dress, he races down the hall in an undershirt and lounge pants. Siegbert pushes past students and faculty alike, night owls looking for their friends—he had his own to find. 

Feet find their way to the infirmary, bursting through the door just as the redheaded warriors begins to rouse. She wakes with her son at her side, clutching her hand, unshed tears wet in his eyes. 

“Welcome home, mother.”

One would think that between Hoshido, Nohr, Valla and the various Deeprealms that both she and her allies used to shelter their children and later plucked them from, Hinoka would have been used to world-hopping by now.

But perhaps some things are not meant for anyone to get used to.

Neither is the constant, cruel need to make choices, each and every one of them laden with tragic consequences, no matter how hard she tries. Is this what Kamui had once felt? The requirement to give up one life in favor of another, under the condition that the one not chosen will be destroyed. That is what would have happened otherwise, isn't it? Assuming that Melanthios was going to stay true to his word. Perhaps none of the fighting, the pain and... whatever that was that followed afterwards would have happened. But General Raoul would have paid the price.

The thoughts spiral in a crescendo of a hurricane greater and louder than even the worst Wind spell she can imagine; and then fade, dissipate, chased away as though they are scared of the warmth that envelops her hand.

Amber eyes flutter open, and as they meet the soft gaze of her son, Hinoka's mind and body alike seem to forget everything they had gone through; the bizarre experiences, the working, the fighting, the sudden burst of years gained in a matter of second that threatened to take her life -

it's all gone, just like that, melted like winter's last snow.

"Siegbert... Good morning." Her voice is still a little unsure, as though not yet convinced and certain that she isn't dreaming, or deluding herself. "Did we... all come back? How long has it been?"

[perfectionist-prince]

TFW Your Mom’s Your Teacher ❁ Hinoka & Siegbert

spearingskies​:

“Seriously? Maybe I’m getting shorter then.” Though her giggle makes it clear she is simply teasing and joking. “One feels taller when on horseback. But regardless.”

With that, Hinoka eagerly follows Siegbert into the room, taking a look around, the happy grin not leaving her face. Her son, no doubt, has a keen eye for aesthetics. How much credit she can take for that, she isn’t sure; she is more likely to attribute that to Xander, and perhaps her family in general. It’s not like she doesn’t like it when things are pretty, she just… wouldn’t exactly know how to make them so, she feels. Siegbert however, certainly does; there is little decoration, and yet at the same time, it feels comfortable, neat and clean - though the number of cat beds does elicit a chuckle from her as she casts an eye at them - and the royal crests of the two nations united within her son cause an almost homely feeling to wash over her.

“Uh, rude?” She pouts, feigning offense, and probably doing a very bad job of it considering the smile that fails to leave her lips. It’s not long before she’s laughing again. “I jest, I jest. Yeah, I’ll be an instructor now. Apparently the Academy doesn’t have enough of these for spearmanship and pegasi, though I might chip in with some other seminars, like politics and stuff.” She rolls her eyes. “Sometimes it’s almost easy to forget I’m next in line to Hoshido’s throne, so there are things I have to know. May as well share.”

At his invitation, she sits - the cordial, noble manner in which Siegbert is treating her both amusing and charming - and then lets out a slightly surprised “oh!” and a chuckle as, a moment later, there is an unannounced guest on her lap. The surprise quickly turns into a softer smile as she pets the soft, long fur of who she assumes is the actual owner of all the cat beds in the room. “I see you didn’t last long without a pet, huh,” she comments, though there is no judgment in her tone; she knows her son’s heart for animals. “She’s a beauty. What’s her name?”

“It's always a possibility! Your feet are rarely on the ground—how would you ever know, until the time comes that I need to pick you up to get a kiss?” It was practically already at that point, but Siegbert was more than accustomed to bending down to receive affections—from family or otherwise. (Oho, the academy had opened many doors for him!) 

“I'm curious about the rules for having family members as instructors. It's one thing to have an aunt or uncle teach you, but there's much more of an implicit bias when your own mother is grading your assignments, no?” He laughs, eyes crinkling in a way he hasn't felt in many moons, and gods, he could nearly cry.

It was so nice to be loved.

“Truth be told, I could do for some lessons on politics. Fodlan does its best, but it's been quite some time since I've had a proper instructor in that regard. I don't see you giving me any breaks in the near future, anyway.”

Majesty takes the moment to skitter down from her perch and scramble right up into Hinoka's lap. The newcomer smelled similar to her master, and so Majesty warms right up.

“This little one is Majesty,” Siegbert explains. He stands from his bed to rifle through a kitty-proofed trunk and produces a single kitty treat, which he deposits into Hinoka's hand. “I found her in the sweetest of ways. One of the strays I'd become particularly fond of had just given birth to an entire litter, but Majesty was the runt, and her mother rejected her. I took her in and kept watch over her—truthfully, I didn't think she was going to make it.”

He bends down beside Hinoka and Majesty to brush his nails against the kitty's tiny head in a way that makes her arch into his touch. “And, here we are. She's perfectly healthy now. Although, admittedly, I did have to miss a handful of classes to care for her.”

Gazing up at his mother, Siegbert wears a grin that rivals the sun's warmth. “I'm afraid I've become quite attached. I'd even miss one of your classes, mother, should this little one require it.”

[perfectionist-prince]

Quality Family Time feat. a Robbery ❁ Hinoka & Siegbert

spearingskies​:

@perfectionist-prince ; Any Weapon +1

Under normal circumstances, Hinoka is really not the right person for a party, and even less of the right person for a fancy ball. And especially for a fancy ball that doubles as a mission - how are they expecting her to chase and capture a potential thief while wearing a whole long dress that she nearly trips on while just walking normally?

She has never been much of a… well, actual princess, she supposes would be the way to put it. Perhaps, once upon a time, she was meant to be. The memories of her earliest childhood, though few and fuzzy by now, still return to her sometimes, showing a Hinoka so drastically different from who she is now that she would not blame anyone for thinking it was someone else’s memories imprinted on her.

(Maybe, in a way, it was. One could say that Hinoka died together with father, or was taken from Hoshido together with Kamui, and it wouldn’t be wrong.)

But that is, in the end, not who she grew up to be; picking up a naginata at the age of seven, and growing up to be a warrior princess, one of Hoshido’s most feared and respected generals… All that is to say that she is not exactly comfortable in this situation. She knows, obligation, it’s a mission, but… seriously.

But there is something that makes it not so bad in spite of it all, something that puts a smile on her face nevertheless; the company of Siegbert. To play couple with her son is a peculiar situation that she, frankly, thinks little of; most importantly, it’s an opportunity to spend some time with him at long last, after months - years perhaps, as far as he is concerned - of separation. They just happen to have to be on guard for a robber while they are at it.

Having finally finished (hopefully) adjusting her hair (how can this short hair require so much attention good gods), she sighs and finally exits the suite to join Siegbert. The white dress with some red accents - at least the color scheme is familiar to her - is admittedly pretty, and maybe a bit less problematic than she had anticipated. So far, at least, and she has had it on for a matter of minutes. How she is expected to catch - or fight - a thief in this, she still has no clue, but they will figure it out as they go.

Upon seeing Siegbert outside, she cannot help but feel herself blush.

“Goodness, I look so silly…”

Now here was a mission for Siegbert! Nohr’s crown heir was not known for his stealth abilities: he was too tall, too broad, too bright amid a dark-haired crowd. But attending a ball? Trying to find dirt on some ne’er-do-well? Doing all this in-between dances and flutes of champagne? Why, that was just good-old-fashioned Nohrian networking.

With an outward flick of his hand, Siegbert’s cuffs settle into place at his wrists, golden cuff links a fond accent to his suit’s meticulous embroidery. He meets his own gaze in the mirror, carmine staring back with a pleased shine; Siegbert enjoyed dressing up and his ensemble did not disappoint. The reds and whites of his mother’s country were a welcome change to the normal shadows he wore; tonight, he was Hoshidan, no matter how his pale skin and light hair might betray him.

It was what was hidden that truly pleased him: his and his mother’s outfits had both been chosen specially to contain enough weapons to stay undercover but more than enough to complete their mission. A hidden blade strapped under his sleeve; a dagger at his belt, concealed by his vest; his rings, sharp enough to tear flesh; and deep in his pocket, a small packet of poison, enough to knock a full-grown man sick but not enough to kill. (He was, after all, Nohrian to the bone.)

Knuckles wrap three times against the suite door. Although their rooms were connected, Siegbert knew to give his mother time alone to deal with her costume change. Hinoka had never been fond of the extravagant and he didn’t want to pressure her wardrobe in any way.

And then the door opens and Siegbert understands immediately why his father insisted on a proper wedding after the war.

“Oh, mother!” son coos, gentle hands coming to rest upon her cheeks. “Look at you! You look wonderful, mother, truly—we need to find more excuses to get you to dress up.”

Hands fall to her sides, where he spins her around and ushers her to the nearest mirror. Finally, they can gaze upon their ensembles together—as they had been designed to be seen. His smile is contagious.

“Don’t we make quite the pair! Father should be a very jealous man tonight, mother. No one will be able to keep their eyes off of you, and I know he can’t resist a good chance to sniff out a rat.”

[perfectionist-prince]

"I am so glad I ran into you, Prince Siegbert! Really, I do not know what I was thinking trying to carry all of these tomes and texts by myself." She has never been particularly strong physically but it has only gotten worse after her abduction and again with the birth of the twins. The effects of dark magic left her even more frail and delicate.

But she does not let Siegbert carry all of the books himself, still insisting on doing at least some of the work. It would hardly be fair otherwise!

"I have planned on holding class outdoors today. It is a bit chilly still, but some fresh air would do us all well. You do not think your classmates will mind, do you?"

"Professor Deirdre!"

What a sight for sore eyes! Deirdre was always welcome company, especially when her mere presence brought a certain sense of ease to his heart. She was, conscious or not, particularly good at quelling whatever concerns the prince might have; a proper leader and a proper friend.

"Here, let me take those," he cannot keep the chuckle out of his voice as he lifts the hefty stack of books from her arms. He could have easily carried the lot by himself—it was easier to carry this than little Kana, squirming as he did—but, at her demand, Siegbert places a single volume back into her hands to even out the work.

"I think that's a wonderful idea, professor. It's a beautiful day out." Siegbert had always been more fond of the cold, anyway; Nohr's summer was more similar to Fodlan's autumn, and it was everything the prince loved. The cooling weather eased the tiny ache in his heart, his yearning for home...

"Besides, even if anyone does get cold, there's nothing stopping us from bringing some blankets outside to curl up in while you teach us. It'll be nice, I think—and perhaps, after, we can all head inside for some hot cocoa to warm us again. Sounds nice, no?"

[perfectionist-prince]

Off-Brand Fantasy Village

kirablik​:

Legs cross over each other, and they pull themselves a smidge to the right to make room for the giant that decided to flop on the bed. If it were not for their grip on the duvet, he would have sent them flying. With an arm resting across their lap, Kiran observes the prince as he stares at nothing above him. 

The Siegbert in Askr is not as openly friendly. He is more rigid, tough—the melting pot of this dimension must affect each country more than they originally thought. Never would Askr’s Siegbert so candidly flop on a bed. Why is this one so nonchalant? Or has he always been like that, and they’ve just failed to truly get to know him?

Ugh. The thought of them being a shitty leader never sits well with them, but it’s inevitable…. sometimes.

“Uh, no.” Eyebrows flick up when she laughs lightheartedly. “Ten pages is too much. Five, at the most. Every word over, I’ll deduct five points from your grade.” They might not depending on the quality.

“Besides, barging in for a report on an investigation versus barging in to cop a feel are completely different.” They don’t like him that way. Student and teacher and all that. 

Also they’re busy. No time for relationships, if it was even an option.

Another sigh as Kiran holds out their hand for Feh, who lands in their palm and settles in with a sigh of his own. Kiran hums thoughtfully, tracing Feh’s chin. “I wonder if we’d be able to leave if we finished the story. Maybe whoever isn’t originally part of the story will be ejected into their original dimension.”

Don’t really remember the ending though. 

Askr’s Siegbert had only just won a war, and was learning to navigate life without the need to worry if the next day would be his last. Askr’s Siegbert barely understood himself, not the mention his relationships with other people. Askr’s Siegbert did not yet love himself. And Askr’s Siegbert was never put through the hell that was this quiet little town.

And this Siegbert was quite a bit more fond of Kiran than Askr’s was so far, but they didn’t need to know that.

Already, the gears were turning: just how delicate could his hand be? How small did he have to write in order to fit ten pages worth of content into just five? How much of an inconvenience could he make this for Kiran? All in good fun, no doubt.

“I think any circumstance isn’t quite appropriate, but when you put it that way, it certainly is the better of the two.” Which?

Falling first back to his forearms and then laying down entirely on the bed, prince gives a thoughtful hum. “Did you read the original edition? I certainly did not. Every review called it terrible, even the ones that normally pass out five stars like candy. From what I recall, the plot was derivative at best.”

The reviews flash through his mind. Dull, dull, dull. It repels the reader. Monotonous. A pointless and confusing story. An unpleasant novel told in an unpleasant way. Undistinguished. Not one page contains an idea...

“Even if we did know the plot, how are we to solve it? Certainly, we are not the protagonists.” But no one else in the village was, either.

“Though I am not keen on making a life for myself here.” Not another day.

[perfectionist-prince]

Take a Paws (Siegbert-Celica)

seraphiia​:

     She can hardly take her eyes off Majesty as Siegbert recounts the tale of their meeting, almost surprised that such a gorgeous and healthy cat was once hanging onto life by a thread, but it makes her all the more glad for her presence here now. The world would be much worse off without such a shining gem. 

     Majesty flicks her tail in response to Siegbert’s words, and Celica can only laugh, one arm wrapped about his as her other hand rests on his bicep. “Clearly she feels the same! I can feel the love between you two.” It’s not long before they reach his dorm, the scent of roses hitting her nose before Siegbert can even open his mouth, chuckling as she takes a seat at the table. “My favorite, actually. Even if you had guessed, I don’t imagine it’d be a difficult one to hazard.”

     After a bit of nudging and rousing, both Majesty and Almond curl up in her lap, and it’s all Celica could do not to shriek, or fall to her knees in gratitude to Mila then and there; the adorable sight of them curled together makes the Valentian queen’s heart swell like nothing else, and she can feel a warmth rise to her cheeks with the smile that spreads across her features. Oh, she could just melt. Cute. So cute…!

     “Yes—” Celica laughs at Siegbert’s remark, schooling her expression into something less elated as she lifts her gaze, hand brushing through her curls, “Yes. This is… thank you, Siegbert. I needed this.” 

     Both cats begin to purr as she reaches for her teacup, blowing on it for a moment before asking: “But enough about me. How have you been?”

“Oh, well, you know,” hand waves through the air, uncaring, in a manner so very unlike the prince. It was easy to explain to his family that his grades had been slipping due to his newfound responsibilities with a little white kitty, but less so when it came to the esteemed Valentian queen.

“Our professors wouldn’t give any slack just because half the student body was gone on a mission. Business as usual, even with testing.”

Siegbert reaches for his own teacup, hiding his less-than-easy expression behind the rim as he takes a small sip. “... Admittedly, my grades have not been as... up to standard as normal,” he says eventually, weighing every word with careful calculation; he didn’t want to seem pretentious, nor did he want to appear stupid.

“But taking care of Majesty concerned me far more than the history of magic in Fodlan! And,” the tension from his shoulders drops as he sets his teacup back into its saucer, a certain softness in his voice, “it was hard to want to work when I looked up and didn’t see the faces of my friends.”

He understood well that this was no excuse, especially in comparison to the hell Celica and the others must have faced, but it was the truth. Church-sanctioned missions be damned.

[perfectionist-prince]

wishing stars

ephemeralove​:

Kind is not a word Katarina is wont to apply to any facet of herself, her thoughts included. Even in her so-called ‘kindness,’ she is self-serving, searching for catharsis from her flaws in menial, worthless tasks. It busies the mind and further still the hands, but she knows– she knows her stars would not fall behind, even without her help. They are shining, brilliant, with little need for such trite notes… but they are all she has. 

“…That’s okay,” she says instead, for she means her gentle words when they are not turned upon herself. The rhythm of his fingertips is fascinating; nigh on every song becomes muddied beyond distinction when played upon so simple an instrument, but still, she tries to discern the melody in his mind. “You can’t take care of them without taking care of yourself. …That’s what I’ve learned, at least.” It is strange, still, sometimes… to be cherished. That a sun should mourn a fleeting shadow, or the night a lightless star – is that not odd? But they would. They did. And as bitterly ironic as it is, she has kept better hours since that day– eaten better meals and bandaged every wound. For them.

“So… don’t feel bad. They’ll be happier to see you doing well when they come back. …t, that’s what I think, at least.” Suddenly, she is much more preoccupied with threading her fingertips together, laying them flatly on the paper. 

At least, for a moment. Then her head snaps up, gray eyes widened a fraction with alarm. “You’re behind?” 

It isn’t derision that colors her voice, but rather a new tone of worry. “No, wait… what are you behind in? M-maybe I can help…” Brows furrow. Come to think of it, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him fight or train, nor does she know just how many subjects they even share… A fretful sigh slips past her lips, or perhaps a bit of her spirit leaving her body. “I don’t know… I’m not any good with handicrafts or things like that…” Indeed, though she had grown by leaps and bounds since coming to call Altea her home, she was far from a master of the day-to-day skills; most of the cleanliness of her room could be attributed to a simple lack of having. 

“I-It would be better if I left that to the queen, or even the Macedonian princess…” Any charm of hers would likely bring them bad luck instead. 

“A wise thought,” he chuckles, carmine gaze shimmering with appreciation. It was something he learned the hard way, during the war—there was no way to protect his comrades if he could not protect himself.

Lord Marth and his knight would be happy to see Katarina doing well upon their return—and she, too, for their mere presence. The thought makes him smile; to see Katarina happy was...

(Happiness itself.)

And laugh again he does when she stares brimmed with incredulity. A hand beat flat against his book, the other over his chest; he allows himself to be free with her, louder than even the closest of his friends have heard in some time.

“I’m not perfect, you know!” He gestures now to his newfound book. “It’s mere distraction, this mission. All who stayed behind, at least those whom I have spoken to, are worried for their friends! How can we focus on our studies like this? So, yes, I have fallen just a bit behind.” A brief pause. “But keep this between you and I, eh? My father needn’t hear of his son’s failures,” but there is a joviality to his tone that says he wouldn’t truly mind.

“That all said, why not distract ourselves? I can make exactly one charm, thanks to my mother. Let me teach you how. You like stars, don’t you?”

He stands with one hand extended for her to take. Fingers clasped around hers, he guides to to one corner of the library where spare parchment sits in neat piles atop a counter. Some stacks are brightly colored, carefully dipped into dyes of different pigments; certain few students wrote notes on these, while most used them to decorate their rooms or make gifts.

“Grab what you like. Perhaps blue for Lord Marth, hm?”

Once sat at their table again, he begins to carefully cut the paper into thin strips. “These are easy to make,” he says, scooting closer so she can watch his fingers work from his perspective. “My mother taught me how when I was very young. I wanted to learn other types of origami, but my hands are too big for such fine details. You begin by folding at an angle like so, almost tying it into a knot...”

And on he explains until a small pentagon shape is form, which he then pinches in the sides to create a star. “There! It’s cute, no?” Prince drops the tiny charm into dagger’s palm; a gift.

“Normally, I’d leave these blank,” he explains, “but most charms have some sort of scripture on them, no? Why not write something nice? I’m sure you have well-wishes for your friends.”

[perfectionist-prince]

wishing stars

ephemeralove​:

The presence of someone behind her is something Katarina tries hard to ignore, the unhidden steps equal parts assurance and annoyance. …Well, maybe not equal, but the intrusion upon her focus is certainly unwelcome nonetheless. More than half the academy has vanished into the pages of some random book! And still – still, they have their heart set on sitting near to her in this library devoid of life? She doesn’t have time for this! 

Even in spite of the unnatural state of affairs that hangs over Garreg Mach like a paper pall, classes continue in some wretched semblance of normal, and she must take what notes she can of the classes shared with her stars. If she is not doing that– if she is not taking care of even these smallest, most mundane tasks– then… then just what is she doing for them at all? The greatest gift she could offer them was to stay out of their way. Thin fingers curl and clench around her pen, color leaching from her knuckles–

You’ve always taken such meticulous notes.

“…Oh.” Her brow unknits, her expression eases, and the pen rolls loosely against the side of her fingers. “Prince Siegbert… Hello.” The pen is soon laid flat against the parchment, and she cranes her neck to look up at him from within her chair. “This? It’s… I’m copying the notes for the classes I share with my lord and his knight. They’re among those that are… um, helping the Projectionist. But classes are still going…” The sigh that escapes her seems more akin to a blanket of rain than aught else, gray eyes falling back to her notes forlornly. 

“It will be hard to catch up on so many missed classes, so it would be even better if I could tailor their notes to their needs… But their needs are different, too, so I have to plan both copies accordingly. Such as– ah, no… Never mind.” Better not to go around sharing Marth’s weaknesses aloud, much as she enjoyed testing the practical differences between that the people here termed reason and faith, and as little as she thought the Nohrian prince would do something malicious with the information. “It’s…” Another pause; another sigh. “…better than doing nothing. What about you…?”

“Just Siegbert,” he corrects quietly, but not without a smile, as he slides into the seat next to her. He had to repeat it nearly every time they spoke, but he didn’t mind reminding her; it was sweet, knowing she cared so much for respecting him. 

“That’s very kind of you—and smart, too. Your friends won’t get behind...” Would their teachers give them any problems if they did? Perhaps, depending on the student; Lord Marth and his knight would be fine, no doubt.

“Admittedly, I... haven’t had as many kind thoughts as you, lately.” He lays his book on the table, drumming his fingers against the cover. “I’ve been more focused on myself than anyone else. Worried, of course, for my friends, which has affected my own studies, but I never gave any thought to how those that joined the Projectionist’s plot would fare upon their return.”

If they returned.

Hand comes to chin, scratching thoughtfully with a quiet hum. “Perhaps I should do something. I don’t know that my notes would be worthwhile at this point, seeing as I’m behind in my own studies. Ah!”

Siegbert’s gaze raises, a gleam in his eye not unfamiliar when in Katarina’s company. “I’ve a friend who frequently crafts charms as gifts. Why not something similar? A little good luck never hurt anyone, as it were.”

[perfectionist-prince]

wishing stars

ephemeralove​:

Once again, the church has plucked a number of stars from the sky to bid them fall upon its enemies, but knowing with certainty why they have gone does not help; neither does it help to know vaguely where they have gone, nor to know not at all when they might return (if they do, a quiet voice whispers from the shadow of her mind; it is the hiss not of a viper, but of a scared child sitting alone in the dark). If she could do anything, then Katarina would sweep them away from Garreg Mach, from Fódlan, from all the troubles the world dares place upon their shoulders after everything they have overcome.

But she is only Katarina, and she is the only trouble she can lift from the weight bearing down on them. 

So she stays behind while they go on ahead, a familiar unease that blots the ink on her paper far too many times for her liking. With an almost agitated sigh, she assesses the stain– unseemly, mayhap, but not worth wasting a sheaf of parchment over– then smooths the paper and continues her work. They have a number of shared classes at the least, and though she does not have the gift of craft, she can prepare the finest, clearest notes she can. …Notes that they may not even want, coming back after an ordeal such as this. Her fingers lift to rest against her forehead, temple pressed unhappily against the line of her thumb.

The ink blots again. 

She sighs.

@perfectionist-prince

The monastery is quiet.

Perhaps it’s fitting. It’s meant to be quiet when one reads; now many are reading, many against their own will. The mission was a strange one, again at the hands of the Projectionist, and Siegbert cannot help but wonder if his friends are trapped between words or writing them with every new breath in their page-cages. 

He wonders if it’s quiet there, in the spine, between the lines. Do the covers keep them warm? Or is it paper-thin protection housing countless innocent souls?

It’s hard to pay attention in class.

Not that Siegbert was falling behind, by any means, but a little extra time spent truly focused on studying would do him well. Besides, it would help to distract from the thoughts that plagued his mind (were his friends alive?). But the library is quiet, even more so than normal, and to hear one’s own breath between crumpled pages and agitated sighs was unnerving.

Book slides down from high shelf; it helped, sometimes, to have his height and reach. This volume was a little dusty, but just what he was looking for. A history on the styles of battle in eastern Fodlan, insight that their professor could not provide. Prince tucks the volume under his arm and turns towards the only other soul in the library.

(Or perhaps there were more, among the shelves, and they would never know.)

“You’ve always taken such meticulous notes,” he comments, voice soft but not soft enough. He’ll feel bad if it causes her to jolt a dark line across her careful lettering. “What is it you’re copying there, Katarina?”

[perfectionist-prince]

Feh used to try to nip at his fingers. Now that only happens... sometimes. 

Kiran’s hesitation doesn’t strike him as odd. He knew there was a possibility that it was a seriously loaded question—or an insanely easy one. But with that much pause, and that for an answer... 

Siegbert throws an eyebrow up. Yeah, they were holding back. But he won’t press for more—Kiran actually had the capacity to get angry if he dug too deep, unlike the villagers downstairs. 

“There’s not many uncle is openly kind to, so don’t feel singled out,” he laughs. Uncle Leo didn’t much care for anyone that pushed his authority. (So, just about anyone at the academy, since he was so easy to fluster.) Though he couldn’t be so sure how he felt about Kiran in particular. 

“I personally think five times is more than enough to consider you a friend, but—” he flops down on the bed, now, leaning his weight back on his hands.

“—perhaps being friends with a teacher isn’t quite appropriate. And perhaps having a teacher barge into your room isn’t, either.” 

He’s grinning, now, head lolled back to gaze up at the cieling. “But demanding a book report is fine. I’ll be sure to give you a nice ten-page essay on the monotony of this little town.”

Off-Brand Fantasy Village

perfectionist-prince​:

“So, to confirm, you and everyone you know here were born in this village?”

“Yessir.”

“And you’ve never met any travelers until my group arrived?” 

“Eeeeyessir.”

“And do you find it at all strange that most of our party lacks the unique features many of the townsfolk share, including yourself?”

That was met with a blank stare. It was nothing unlike what he’d found yesterday or the day before that. Fingers prod at his temples as the beginning of a headache came on, something becoming more common by the day. Siegbert musters the strength to bow politely out of the conversation, but by the droop of his shoulders or his heavy sigh upon turning around, he wasn’t happy.

Was it so hard to write a town with just a little bit more life? Although Siegbert didn’t consider himself an author by any means, he was no stranger to dabbling in the world of fantasy. The stories he spun as a child had far better color than this quiet little village. At least his worlds were interesting. But this, this? It was nearly enough to make him want to pick up a pen for the first time in years.

Well, the animal features were compelling. It certainly put a new spin on kitsune and wolfskin. (Siegbert had become quite fond of a little fox boy that trailed him whenever he ventured by the cobbler’s place.)

“G’day! Hot one today, ain’t it?” Shiela chimes and Siegbert sighs. “Same as yesterday,” he manages, and in retrospect would be quite disappointed in his quickly-falling care for manners.

Kiran handled all their money. At least he didn’t have to worry about his room. It was, perhaps, the only comfort he had in this drab world—Kiran at his side, that is. And the beds were decent. Beats sleeping on the ground.

For what it was worth, Siegbert was decent by the time Kiran barged in. He turns from his spot standing in front of a small vanity, shirt unbuttoned just enough to cool down and hair haphazardly pulled back with a tie that he was only now in the process of redoing.

“In all fairness, I think everyone might appear a novice when put against you for chess.” Fingers run through curls—tangles—and work his hair into something a little more presentable.

“I talked to the seamstress’s husband—the one who lives on the edge of town. No one’s ever heard a thing about anyone coming or going, and everyone around here has lived here their whole lives, even the elders. Don’t you find it curious how none of them are afraid of us?” Ribbon follows through, finally tying a neat bow at the nape of Siegbert’s neck. He’ll brush it after he next bathes; for now, in front of Kiran, he couldn’t be bothered. They didn’t care. “You’d think they’d be scared of outsiders.”

Days passed like this. The same routine, the same useless information. The same meeting at the end of the day before they finally trudged downstairs for dinner and drinks before retiring for the night. Rinse and repeat.

And yet he hadn’t the gall to ask until now.

Prince extends a hand towards beloved owl, waiting for approval before reaching to give well-deserved scratchies. Feh’s hoo peters through the air a few moments before Siegbert speaks once more.

“I’d like to learn something useful today, you know. Kiran, why did you leave so suddenly?” I was worried. But now wasn’t the time.

They snort quietly, turning to stare at the ceiling. Everyone only seems like a novice to them, because chess is all they know. Strategy is their only skill and talent, simultaneously a way to relax and the reason for their stress. It is the key to escaping this tale. Somehow, there’s a way. There is a way. There is always a way. Have hope; not because it will get better, but because they will find the answer.

Besides, it’s not like it’s their first time traveling realms or worlds or dimensions. Whatever it was.

Heavy footsteps approach the bed. Kiran turns back to Siegbert—they hold their breath as he pets Feh—shout out to when Siegbert was super uncomfortable around him. LOL. 

They snort again, this time in amusement. Siegbert used to fucking glare daggers at Feh. Look at him now. 

All warmth drains from Kiran’s body when he asks outright why they had left. Expressionless, their eyes catch his own, before they look away, lips in a thin line. That’s fucking uncomfortable. What do they say to that? “grievin srry lmao!!!”? “😝 gap year”? “I just wanted to find myself”? 

Or… tell the truth?

Another glance at Siegbert.

Nnnnnnaaaaaaaaaaaah. No. They can’t. He’ll worry. He’ll hover. They don’t need that. It’s none of his business anyway.

In the end, Kiran shrugs, lips pursed together nonchalantly. “Had to do some stuff back home. And I didn’t want to take another magic class and have your uncle glaring at me all the time.” Possibly exaggerated, but the man just did not smile often (around them). Also they’re pretty sure he doesn’t like them. Like, at all. 

“We also spoke, like, maybe five times. I think you’re cool and all, Charming, but I don’t know if we’re friends. Acquaintances maybe.” Kiran sits up, smiling when they point between the two of them. (Feh reacts instinctively and moves with Kiran, sitting instead in their lap).

“If anything I’m your teacher.” They have to tilt their head up to look at his face. Jeez, he’s tall. “When we get out of here, I expect a book report on this very book we’re in.”

[perfectionist-prince]

Off-Brand Fantasy Village

kirablik​:

The town itself seems welcoming enough and not too different from what you know in Fódlan - clearly the author was adept at writing what they know. The villagers, however, all possess a variety of animal features, and you learn quickly that the elderly goat-headed man is their leader. While they’re polite to you, they are quite confused about who you are and where you say you come from. Talking with them reveals that they hardly know how to respond to anything that isn’t simple smalltalk.

Kiran expressionlessly gazes at their opponent. With a flick, they send wooden trinket rolling in a halfhearted circle across the table. “Checkmate,” they say without any inflection before plucking up the piece and setting it back on the board when they reset the pieces. Their opponent, a woman with a bear head, practically roars when she throws her head back, somewhere between a mix of frustration and laughter.

They return the king to his throne. Here it comes. Their mouth follows along silently with her outburst.

“I’ll be, Keeran! Whatuh game. Yer bite is worse than yer bark. Here, take it. Ya deserve it!” With a big claw, she pushes several gold coins across the table.

“Always a pleasure, Ursula.” No use counting. It’s 10 pieces exactly.

“10 gold pieces! Heh. Thar goes my treasure of the week,” Ursula raises a claw to scratch her nose. As she calls out for another drink and a warm brisket, Kiran slides the gold into their satchel and leaves the tavern.

The town is bland and predictable. Shop names are unoriginal or nonexistent. Every place is referred to as what it is. And the people — they stop a young fawnn from running into a hawk carrying his merchandise and only turn her around in the direction she came from — are straight out of a fairy tale. Not even. Probably closer to a small budget rip off of a popular movie. They wouldn’t judge it so harshly if they weren’t sucked into this world.

They’ve gambled with Ursula three other times before this. It’s like the day resets with minor differences between each one. Ursula’s always got money, and she likes a good game. Challenging her to a game of chess is the fastest way to make money.

“G'day! Hot one today, ain’t it?” Sheila the innkeeper greets Kiran as she walks through the door.

“Sure.” Kiran tosses two gold pieces on the counter. “For our rooms. Know anything about a way out of a book that can suck people in yet?”

The innkeeper stares at her. Kiran stares back.

“Staying another night?”

They sigh quietly. “Seems like it,” they call back to her as they trot up the stairs.

Kiran knocks on the door at the end of the hallway and calls to Siegbert on the other side. “Hope you’re decent. I’m coming in.” The handle clicks, and they push the door open.

“Ursula uses different moves, but they’re all basic. Probably a novice incorporating chess into her character.” As she talks, she briefly holds up the satchel of gold and drops it unceremoniously on the desk, before flopping on his bed with a long sigh. Feh, their trusty companion, flies from the desk to sit on their chest with a quiet hoo.

If only they had Breidablik. They might’ve been able to summon Alfonse or Sharena to get them out of this mess. And then Veronica to close it up.

“Any progress on your end?”

@perfectionist-prince

“So, to confirm, you and everyone you know here were born in this village?”

“Yessir.”

“And you’ve never met any travelers until my group arrived?” 

“Eeeeyessir.”

“And do you find it at all strange that most of our party lacks the unique features many of the townsfolk share, including yourself?”

That was met with a blank stare. It was nothing unlike what he’d found yesterday or the day before that. Fingers prod at his temples as the beginning of a headache came on, something becoming more common by the day. Siegbert musters the strength to bow politely out of the conversation, but by the droop of his shoulders or his heavy sigh upon turning around, he wasn’t happy.

Was it so hard to write a town with just a little bit more life? Although Siegbert didn’t consider himself an author by any means, he was no stranger to dabbling in the world of fantasy. The stories he spun as a child had far better color than this quiet little village. At least his worlds were interesting. But this, this? It was nearly enough to make him want to pick up a pen for the first time in years.

Well, the animal features were compelling. It certainly put a new spin on kitsune and wolfskin. (Siegbert had become quite fond of a little fox boy that trailed him whenever he ventured by the cobbler’s place.)

“G’day! Hot one today, ain’t it?” Shiela chimes and Siegbert sighs. “Same as yesterday,” he manages, and in retrospect would be quite disappointed in his quickly-falling care for manners.

Kiran handled all their money. At least he didn’t have to worry about his room. It was, perhaps, the only comfort he had in this drab world—Kiran at his side, that is. And the beds were decent. Beats sleeping on the ground.

For what it was worth, Siegbert was decent by the time Kiran barged in. He turns from his spot standing in front of a small vanity, shirt unbuttoned just enough to cool down and hair haphazardly pulled back with a tie that he was only now in the process of redoing.

“In all fairness, I think everyone might appear a novice when put against you for chess.” Fingers run through curls—tangles—and work his hair into something a little more presentable.

“I talked to the seamstress’s husband—the one who lives on the edge of town. No one’s ever heard a thing about anyone coming or going, and everyone around here has lived here their whole lives, even the elders. Don’t you find it curious how none of them are afraid of us?” Ribbon follows through, finally tying a neat bow at the nape of Siegbert’s neck. He’ll brush it after he next bathes; for now, in front of Kiran, he couldn’t be bothered. They didn’t care. “You’d think they’d be scared of outsiders.”

Days passed like this. The same routine, the same useless information. The same meeting at the end of the day before they finally trudged downstairs for dinner and drinks before retiring for the night. Rinse and repeat.

And yet he hadn’t the gall to ask until now.

Prince extends a hand towards beloved owl, waiting for approval before reaching to give well-deserved scratchies. Feh’s hoo peters through the air a few moments before Siegbert speaks once more.

“I’d like to learn something useful today, you know. Kiran, why did you leave so suddenly?” I was worried. But now wasn’t the time.

Off-Brand Fantasy Village

The town itself seems welcoming enough and not too different from what you know in Fódlan - clearly the author was adept at writing what they know. The villagers, however, all possess a variety of animal features, and you learn quickly that the elderly goat-headed man is their leader. While they’re polite to you, they are quite confused about who you are and where you say you come from. Talking with them reveals that they hardly know how to respond to anything that isn’t simple smalltalk.

Kiran expressionlessly gazes at their opponent. With a flick, they send wooden trinket rolling in a halfhearted circle across the table. "Checkmate," they say without any inflection before plucking up the piece and setting it back on the board when they reset the pieces. Their opponent, a woman with a bear head, practically roars when she throws her head back, somewhere between a mix of frustration and laughter.

They return the king to his throne. Here it comes. Their mouth follows along silently with her outburst.

"I'll be, Keeran! Whatuh game. Yer bite is worse than yer bark. Here, take it. Ya deserve it!" With a big claw, she pushes several gold coins across the table.

"Always a pleasure, Ursula." No use counting. It's 10 pieces exactly.

"10 gold pieces! Heh. Thar goes my treasure of the week," Ursula raises a claw to scratch her nose. As she calls out for another drink and a warm brisket, Kiran slides the gold into their satchel and leaves the tavern.

The town is bland and predictable. Shop names are unoriginal or nonexistent. Every place is referred to as what it is. And the people — they stop a young fawnn from running into a hawk carrying his merchandise and only turn her around in the direction she came from — are straight out of a fairy tale. Not even. Probably closer to a small budget rip off of a popular movie. They wouldn't judge it so harshly if they weren't sucked into this world.

They've gambled with Ursula three other times before this. It's like the day resets with minor differences between each one. Ursula's always got money, and she likes a good game. Challenging her to a game of chess is the fastest way to make money.

"G'day! Hot one today, ain't it?" Sheila the innkeeper greets Kiran as she walks through the door.

"Sure." Kiran tosses two gold pieces on the counter. "For our rooms. Know anything about a way out of a book that can suck people in yet?"

The innkeeper stares at her. Kiran stares back.

"Staying another night?"

They sigh quietly. "Seems like it," they call back to her as they trot up the stairs.

Kiran knocks on the door at the end of the hallway and calls to Siegbert on the other side. "Hope you're decent. I'm coming in." The handle clicks, and they push the door open.

"Ursula uses different moves, but they're all basic. Probably a novice incorporating chess into her character." As she talks, she briefly holds up the satchel of gold and drops it unceremoniously on the desk, before flopping on his bed with a long sigh. Feh, their trusty companion, flies from the desk to sit on their chest with a quiet hoo.

If only they had Breidablik. They might've been able to summon Alfonse or Sharena to get them out of this mess. And then Veronica to close it up.

"Any progress on your end?"

@perfectionist-prince

[perfectionist-prince]

royal kids 👑✨

[perfectionist-prince]

cousins!!!!

[perfectionist-prince]

TFW Your Mom’s Your Teacher ❁ Hinoka & Siegbert

theblueskywarrior​:

Once the door opens, it takes Siegbert a brief moment to realize he needs to look down, and Hinoka’s smile brightens a shade still as she waits for him to do just that; and once it happens, she soon finds herself in the tight, loving embrace of the boy - not really boy anymore, a gallant young man, but her child all the same - and it does not take long before her feet do not touch the ground anymore, Siegbert lifting her up with ease to accommodate for the perfect hug of greeting.

“I’ve missed you too, are you kidding me?” She laughs, the melodious words of the Hoshidan language having never before felt better to speak as they both slide into the tongue of her homeland. “It’s been weeks since last letter and… gods, months since we last saw each other. You’ve grown even taller than you were, I swear!”

It takes a solid while before he lets her go, but she does not complain, allowing for the moment to last as long as necessary, and cherishing it herself as well. It truly feels like an age - the reparations, the restorations, the politics, the everything has absorbed so much of her and her family’s time recently that at times one could almost forget there is someone waiting for her in the Deeprealm, or at least hoping for a letter in the faraway land of Fódlan - and only recall, not without guilt, when it was finally time for bed, even if only for a few hours…

But none of that will be a problem now, she thinks to herself. The time has come for her and Siegbert to finally share place and time, and not just because of an ongoing war.

“Well, now. If you’re not too busy, may I come in? We’ve got some catching up to do, I believe.” She chuckles, offering the curious cat on Siegbert’s shoulder her hand to smell. “Yeah, quite some catching up, huh.”

“Tell me. How have you been? Wanna guess why I’m here?” She adds, shooting him a wink.

“I promise, mother, I am the exact height I was when I left.” He can’t keep the smile off his face; if anything, his cheeks are starting to hurt from how hard he’s simply grinning.

Finally, Siegbert sets his mother down and steps back to allow her into his room. It’s modesty access; the Nohrian crest hangs on a tapestry over his bed, while a Hoshidan flag adorns the wall over his desk. Fresh white roses sit in a vase at his windowsill. Aside from the small blanket fort and myriad of cat beds, all meant to coddle his beloved Majesty as well as Almond, whenever the litter guy decided to visit, there was little else that decorated his room.

He gestures to the seat at his desk—significantly more comfortable, in his opinion, than the ones that sat at a small table near the window. “Please, mother. Sit. I’m afraid I don’t have any refreshments at the moment.” Had he enough notice, he would have prepared tea before her arrival, maybe even nabbed a few snacks from the kitchens.

Siegbert sits at the edge of his bed, facing Hinoka, with his hands elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped between his legs. Despite his relaxed posture, it’s entirely clear that he is very much interested in every word his mother has to say.

“I’m guessing you’re here to be a teacher, considering you aren’t dressed like the rest of the Knights of Seiros,” he chuckles. “That, or you’ve come to eternally antagonize your son, no?”

[perfectionist-prince]

TFW Your Mom’s Your Teacher ❁ Hinoka & Siegbert

theblueskywarrior​:

@perfectionist-prince

Truth be told, Hinoka has no idea whether or not Siegbert was told that she was coming to the Academy. Obviously, her blood siblings knew, what with the distance between her and them, and her and Nohr (not to mention Fódlan) being just a little bit smaller, allowing for more communication and less secrecy.

By the time it reached Xander, the decision was more or less a done deal, and would only have been reversed had the expressed an urgent need for her assistance. With his promise that he had everything covered with Nohr’s reforms and reconstruction, Hinoka was free to go.

(In all honesty, she still could not help but feel like he simply did not want to trouble her, but to press him for details on the struggle of the country she spent years at war with may have simply added even more to his burdens. She did, however, made damn sure he knew she can hop on Hajime and rush back anytime if he needs her.)

(She loves Xander, but by the Dawn Dragon’s big shiny scales, is he bad at relying on others.)

But that is a concern for another time; if she does not trust him, she should have never come here. And she does. With that in mind, after making her way through the Black Eagles dormitories, she stops in front of a door she knows to be his.

Her heart flutters with excitement. It has been quite a while…

Raising her hand, she knocks three times. She does not say a word; if this is indeed a surprise for Siegbert, then let it be a solid one.

It was easy to lose contact when one wasn’t used to it in the first place. Siegbert’s ability to converse with his parents was limited at best before he joined the war effort, and while things were actually quite nice in terms of their familial bonding during the war, it became much harder to spend time together after it. Father had to step up as king, with mother as his queen. Both Nohr and Hoshido, as well as new Valla, were still undergoing reparations and reconstruction after years of destruction and violence. There wasn’t exactly time built-in for family fun night.

Siegbert grew used to going days without seeing his parents. Coming to the academy was no different. And, when there passed weeks without correspondence between himself and the king and queen, it wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. (But it still made his heart a little heavy.) So, mother’s quiet these past few weeks wasn’t all too surprising. She was busy, after all.

The weekend was quiet. No little dragons came to play; no cats called for his attention. Majesty slept peacefully curled in the folds of his cape, but otherwise raised no alarm. Siegbert sat at his desk, scrawling away at some essay or another that wouldn’t be due for at least another few weeks. With nothing else on his plate, might as well get it done now.

But a sharp three knocks distracts him. Prince looks up slowly (even little Majesty pokes her head up from her soft royal cocoon). Who would bother him now, at this time? Kanahara was surely out playing, uncle was with his wife...

Prince stands to open the door. Admittedly, when the door does finally swing open, he looks right over his guest’s head.

Gaze slowly drags down to his mother’s familiar smile. Siegbert’s heart swells.

“—Mother?” His voice is a small amount choked, unable to keep the tight feeling out of his throat. (Majesty jumps up just in time to crawl onto her master’s shoulder, where it was safe.)

There once was a time that when he wrapped his arms around his mother, Siegbert’s head only reached Hinoka’s shoulder. Now, she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, her chin just barely grazing his shoulder. It is, perhaps, only a slight surprise when the queen finds her feet leaving the floor; son squeezes her so tight in his embrace that he simply can’t help but to lift her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers, words lost in soft vermilion waves. “I missed you, mother.”