#Chivalry Begets the Worship and Glorification of Death (War Phase)

[winter-sword]

“Other times, I look at my scars and see something else: a child who was trying to cope with something horrible that they should never have had to live through at all.” // felix!!

Red eyes considered the Dancer for a long moment, the pause mainly because Felix didn’t have anything to say. Or, rather, he had something to say… but Gwenn’s scolding about thinking before he spoke had finally sunk in. A bit. “…A lot of us went through shit like that,” he said eventually, gaze falling to the sword in his lap, pausing in cleaning it.

Though it might’ve been surprising to just about anyone else, the swordsman’s expression was contemplative, voice quiet instead of hard. “The Boar Prince and his guard dog. My sister. Sylvain.” Me. “I don’t know if how you dealt with it was any better or worse…” Trailing off, Felix looked back up at Mari, gaze almost meeting their own.

“But you did, and now you’re here. With me.”

@cursedcrest

[winter-sword]

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” // for felix!!

Expressive red eyes flicked from Mari's hand against his side -- glowing with healing magic, knitting the slice they had left there back together -- to their face, and then back to their hand again. Even without the magic, their touch was warm against his skin, a rarity in Faerghus' less-than-welcoming weather. (No matter the season, Fodlan's far north wasn't a particularly enjoyable place to live; spring -- the end of the Harpstring Moon -- being a muddy, slushy, dismally rainy affair.) Not looking at his betrothed, Felix spoke; lacking their usual bite, his words were almost companionable... though very few would have ever believed it possible.

"...The terms we agreed on were first blood; don't worry about it."

@cursedcrest

[winter-sword]

“ the room’s spinning . ” bernadetta to felix

“That’s what happens, when you’re overtired,” Felix murmured into the side of her neck, legs tangled with the archer’s and his left arm resting casually across her ribs. (These days, it was the only he could sleep; curled around his other half.) Taking the Great Bridge had been taxing on everyone, but it would’ve been especially so on Bernadetta, as she wasn’t used to being in the thick of the fighting. As for Felix, he’d missed being turned into a red smear on the ground by three Demonic Beasts at once by less than a hairsbreadth.

Which, though he wouldn’t admit it, he was still reeling a bit from. Only a quick save from Gwenn and an even quicker Seraphim after that had kept him alive... which had resulted in his sister trying not to scream at him once the day was finally won. (In the end, the Dancer had stormed off, not wiling to break her Never Yell At Felix rule even for this.) “Officially” it was because he couldn’t stand to be anywhere near The Boar, but in reality, he’d realized two out of the three would be heading toward Bernadetta.

In that moment, he had reacted without thinking.

@mothsflames

[winter-sword]

@mothsflames continued from here

Sometimes, Felix wondered when this war would end. When he could finally put the shambling, reanimated corpse of the monster wearing Dimitri’s skin to rest at long last. But for right now, he wasn’t thinking about that. Well, not exactly, at least. Now that Rodrigue was here, every moment up till now had felt like his chest was slowly constricting, the man still too much even now. (Besides, Rodrigue’s real child didn’t dislike sudden touch, or the loudness of the dining hall when it was full, or eye contact, or the way certain things felt.) Still, he should have knocked, should have waited, should have asked -- “Sorry,” he managed, tiredness audible. “Didn’t mean to. Spook you.” Not the one safe person he had left. The angle wasn’t quite right, but...

Finding one of her hands with his grounded him.

[winter-sword]

@armatization continued from here

Felix shook his had stubbornly. He had never intended to burden Ashe like this, but done was done. “You know I can be... cruel, without thought or reservation.” An understatement but he wasn’t good at talking about things like this. “I guess you could call it a... coping mechanism.” That was what Mercedes or his sister would have called it. “When I -- feel -- afraid, or confused, or ashamed -- or anything else I don’t like or want to process... I cut down anyone in reach because I hate feeling... alone and small.” The archer probably already knew all of this, but now that he‘d begun... “You do deserve better, Ashe. Better than I’ve ever known how to be.” Reaching out, the swordsman almost touched the taller male’s cheek, but stopped himself just before making contact.

“At least, better than me.”

[winter-sword]

@mothsflames continued from here

Despite the curl of his lip at the sudden (and, for today, unwanted) contact, Felix didn’t violently throw the redhead’s gesture off. Instead, he moved just out of reach, remaining close while still making his feelings clear. “You ought to remember to ask,” he sighed, sincere if a touch exaggerated, emphasis both for Bernadetta’s benefit and to attempt to make it clear he wasn’t really upset. The swordsman’s next words were directed at the purplette on Sylvain’s other side. “Remind me why we let him in, again?

“The handsome fool can’t even follow simple directions.” As ever, a backhanded compliment was thrown at the lancer. “It’s like he wants to flaunt being allowed to touch us, even if he can’t remember he’s supposed to ask first.” It may have been a bit unkind, but this was Felix, after all; his limited supply of kindness went mostly to Bernadetta and his sister. But no matter what he said, the jabs lacked venom or heat, containing only an exasperated fondness... Which he clarified, when he continued after a long moment.

“...I’m kidding.” Mostly. “But you still should’ve asked.”

[winter-sword]

After the more-or-less consistent sounds of battle, and the solitary quiet of being by himself in encampments, the noise and close quarters of the monastery were overwhelming and jarring for Felix. He somehow managed to stand the ringing in his ears and the tight, crawling feeling of his skin for the “reunion” and the Guardian Moon’s strategy session... but after that, all bets were off. The routine of the past five years had ben broken abruptly, so falling back into the one from his schooldays was an attempt to cope as best he could, in spite of how wrong and different and suffocating everything felt. That in mind, the swordsman had essentially fled to the training grounds, fighting the need to cover his ears or hug himself and hide in a corner.

The training sword somehow didn’t shake in his hand, and he stumbled his way through a few forms before the doors opened again, admitting whom he thought was his sister. ”I’m -- fine, G-Gwenn. I do-on’t. Need you. To c-coddle me,” the ravenette spat, overextending on a stroke of his weapon and whirling around to face -- oh. That... was definitely not his sister. “...Professor” Still shaking, he looked away, body trying to shift from side to side now that he had stopped forcing it to move. Unable to force himself to resume his forms, Felix instead looked away and wrapped his arms around himself tightly as he could, trying to force the rocking to stop. He wasn’t going to fucking fall apart completely, not in front of Byleth. Only Gwenn had never judged him for being broken like this.

“What d’you -- want?” Instead of angry, he just sounded tired.

@lunaetis

[winter-sword]

❤️ for felix from bernadetta

@mothsflames

((Under the cut because Christ this is long XD))

If we kissed?

[] Quickie. [] Tongue. [X] Softly bite your lip. [] We wouldn’t. [X] Long and meaningful. [] Let’s hit up the bedroom. [] You remember last time? [] Awkward… [] Lol no.

Would I go out with you? [X] Yes, definitely. [] No. [] I want to, but it wouldn’t work. [] Maybe. [] Nope, you’re like family. [] You’re cute, but probably not. [] Just simply not my type. [] If I knew you better. [] Already did. [] I don’t know.

If we took a picture together, we’d be… [] Hugging each other. [] Just chilling. [X] Holding hands. [] Kissing. [] Acting dumb. [X] Normal picture. [] You holding me from behind.

You are… [] Cute/Pretty. [] Good looking. [] Sexy. [X] All of the above.

You + me + room = … [] Movies. [] Cuddling. [] Hanging out. [] Kissing. [] Playing games. [X] Everything. [] Wouldn’t let you in.

You should… [] Hit me up. [X] Be mine. [X] Marry me. [] Reblog this so I can send you a heart. [] be studying.

If we got married, I’d… [] Divorce you. [X] Make kids. [] Take your money and bounce. [] Smash every day. [] I would cheat on you. [X] Be faithful. [] Kill you in your sleep [] We wouldn’t

[winter-sword]

“You don’t know what you want.” // 4 felix!

Red eyes narrowed at Andromeda, the swordsman barely holding back a sneer. (Or was it a snarl? His emotions had been more conflicting than ever, lately.) “And what would you know about it?” Felix spat, irritated at the interruption. He was supposed to be training, but he obviously couldn’t do that if they wanted to annoy him and pick a fight. Not even his sister was allowed to derail his routines, so of course not even his friends would be allowed to. (And wasn’t that an odd thing? Admitting that he actually did have friends.)

Then again, Gwenn knew well enough not to.

@darkflyers

[winter-sword]

sylvain vc: oh yes i love when you throw a desk at my face, felix.

“What -- No -- ” Breaking off, the swordsman turned away to try to hide the flush heating his cheeks and even th tips of his ears, half out of embarrassment and half out of rage that was quickly draining away. And yet, much as he didn’t like to admit it, this was frustratingly normal for him. Aside from with the Boar certain people, Felix’s anger burned brightly but never lasted too long, always leaving him feeling stupid and exhausted within ten minutes or less.

(If it ever did last longer, then he was genuinely upset about something, which was a different situation entirely.) As for with Sylvain... Even back during their academy days, it had been hard to stay angry with the redhead for long. He wasn’t going to think about how it sometimes hurt to be angry at Sylvain at all, just then. Huffing an exhale, Felix lifted a hand to his face to try and hid his aforementioned blush more effectively, as all the tension faded along with his ire.

“...Sorry,” he muttered. “That was... really stupid.”

@asterisque

[winter-sword]

@asterisque continued from here

Felix’s instinct was to snap back, point out the times that had nearly made their promise null and void, but bit his tongue instead. After all, he himself had always fought just as recklessly, and (at least these days) he was doing his best to... not be a cruel hypocrite as much as before. Of course, then Sylvain calling him sweet registered, and the shorter male actually found a faint blush heating his face. “Fine. But only if you stop taking stupid risks.” But there wasn’t any heat in the words, not a trace of his usual standoffish. In fact, it came out sounding like anyone else saying I care about you, or I don’t want to lose you. Which made the swordsman look away even more pointedly, still uncomfortable with feeling cared about.

If there were a hint of a word starting with L, Felix wouldn’t admit it.

[winter-sword]

During the Great Tree Moon, and even more so during the utter mess that the Battle at Gronder turned out to be, Felix had thought himself completely insane. Insane to still be fighting this war, insane to follow the Boar on the path he was careening headlong down... and in his darkest, most hateful moments, he had wondered if maybe he was insane to have turned down the then-Princess’ offer. (Certainly insane enough to believe the lot of them wouldn’t survive the fight, so he’d finally relented and spent the night with Sylvain.) Then things had gone even more sideways, resulting in his father’s death and Ilya’s near death, though both events seemed to have at least somewhat snapped the Boar -- snapped Dimitri back to reality.

Yet not even a week after the decision to change course for Fhirdiad had been made (not even a week after he had broken into pieces only Sylvain had been able to help him put back together), another strategy meeting had been called, markedly different from the norm thanks to the suddenness. Felix had been fully prepared to be annoyed, mostly at the loss of most of a day to not process his feelings train, but something about the... woman standing with the Professor and Dimitri made his blood run cold. Distantly, he heard someone ask why they were here, which prompted the woman he found so irrationally disquieting to introduce herself. Said introduction -- as Glenn, or, apparently, Gwenn -- threw everything back into sharp focus, allowing the swordsman to catch sight of Dimitri leaving, and it didn’t take the younger Fraldarius even a moment to follow.

(From amidst a bear hug courtesy of Sylvain, Gwenn found Felix running after Dimitri even now bittersweet and nostalgic.) Though quicker on his feet than the blond, being shorter meant that Dimitri was a fair way down the hall by the time Felix caught up to him, reaching out to grab for whatever of the taller man’s arm he could. “Have you lost your damn mind all over again?” he snarled, pretending his voice was only cracking from rage. “What the fuck are you playing at? My brother is dead, you know that as well as I do, so that -- that woman can’t possibly be Glenn.” He was shaking, but he refused to admit that it was from anything other than fury. This wasn’t like when they were children, running after Dimitri crying for something that hurt and he couldn’t deal with -- it wasn’t.

...So why did he feel like crying?

@sovereign-tempest

[winter-sword]

Castle Gautier was known as Bitter Embrace.

The name came from the fact that, even in summer, the castle was bitterly cold. Castle Fraldarius was much the same, though at least it didn’t threaten frostbite in high summer, one of the few things Felix liked about the place. But he wasn’t thinking about his childhood home, no, he was thinking about the place he would – hopefully – only be staying a night at most. As expected from mid-Ethereal Moon, the snow was knee deep, and the days could hardly be called days given how short they were; a blizzard could have been around any corner. Felix was betting on his luck holding for the next few days at least, to facilitate leaving this place as quickly as possible. His clearest memories of this place came from when he was eight, more than ten years ago now, during a particularly cold winter. The four of them spent at least six months of the year together, but that was usually in the spring and summer, and usually in Fhirdiad or Galatea.

That year, however, had been very… Rodrigue had called it “special;” the Margrave had called it “fortuitous;” and Glenn had just laughed. On his eighth birthday, the 20th of the Pegasus Moon, Felix had been handfasted to Sylvain. Conducted by a priest of the Church of Seiros, and witnessed by all the adults involved (Rodrigue, the Margrave, and King Lambert), it had made “official” the betrothal agreed upon three years before. It was the closest to a wedding that would happen until Felix was eighteen, and Felix had despised every single second of it. (Not least because he hated the dress and stockings and shoes that made his feet hurt, or because of how everyone was looking at him and making his skin crawl.) But then the war had broken out, and things had changed. Now, at twenty-two, he rode through the castle town and then through the gates proper to the courtyard under his own power…

But he still felt like a child, knowing that here, he wasn’t Felix. Here, he was “Felicia,” and “Lady Fraldarius,” and a woman, no matter what he did or said to the contrary. In truth, he didn’t know which was worse – being treated like a woman by the staff and servants, or being leered at like an object or a cut of meat by the Margrave. Shoving the thoughts away to be dealt with later (or preferably never), Felix dismounted and coldly ordered the nearest servant to find Sylvain, and to wake them if need be. A stable hand earned his ire by attempting to see to “Lady Fraldarius” horse and saddle bags, a scathing tongue lashing that the swordsman felt no guilt about whatsoever. If the servants weren’t going to respect him, then he wasn’t to treat them with courtesy. Besides that, though, the thought of anyone else touching his horse (or armor, or blades) made Felix want to kill something.

Hopefully, seeing Sylvain again would improve his mood.

@miscria

[winter-sword]

@firesongtales continued from here

Dark brows drew together over furious red eyes, expressive mouth set in its usual scowl. Yet the stormy expression belied the minute tremble to strong hands, palms and fingers alight with haling magic, wound closing slowly but steadily. The swordsman wasn’t Mercedes, not suited to strong Faith magic like Physic or Fortify, but Heal and Nosferatu served him well alongside Thunder and Thoron. He just had to make sure he didn’t deplete his magical reserves with one hasty Reason spell too many. Now that he was close enough, Felix could tell it wasn’t a life-threatening injury, but witnessing Sylvain fall after taking a hit for him yet again…

Anger coursed though him, but that wasn’t what came to the surface, or what was making his hands shake almost imperceptibly. No, that dubious honor went to worry, even though logically he knew the redhead was alright and could take care of himself. On worry’s heels was disgust at showing that worry, but he pushed away that feeling for the moment; now wasn’t the time for his hang-ups regarding expressing motions. When he spoke, the words were ostensibly meant to sound furious and threatening, but they read more as anyone else saying I care about you or I’m glad you’re okay. “Is doing stupid things for me some sort of disease? Next time, I’ll leave you for the medics to find. Moron.”

Still, Felix strengthened the spell when the wound proved stubborn.

[winter-sword]

The monastery was quiet, the Boar was in the cathedral, and Felix...

Felix, as he was on most days, was haunting/monopolizing the training grounds. He didn’t care that it was exceedingly early, the monastery only just beginning to stir around him; all he cared about, was that people left him alone. Even Byleth, the professor who had become like a friend over the year he had known them, who would never pry but instead give knowing looks and meaningful silences. Even Ingrid, who was like the sister he had never had, prone to scolding and nagging because she cared far too much. Even Sylvain, who had been both his best friend and something more, who knew Felix so well he seemed able to understand him without words -- Goddess, especially Sylvain, and all of Felix’s complicated feelings where the redhead was concerned.

They were at war, so of course he had no time for anything else; not feelings, not sentimentality, and certainly not weakness. So, Felix trained, and almost manically, at that. Sometimes he did so with someone, but never anyone he knew, and more often than not alone. He worked his body until he could stop thinking, and then drag himself back to his room and sleep without dreams. It was easier that way; always had been, and always would be, in his opinion. Even with the way his chest screamed more than ever, more than any other part of his body at the strain he was putting it under, more than nerves twinged and ribs ached, bound tighter then they perhaps really ought to be. Reckless, Manuela probably would have called it.

Stupid, Ingrid certainly would have called it. Felix didn’t care. What was a little more pain in the face of a war, in the face of being useful enough to fight in that war? Nothing, in his opinion. A tiny part of him understood he was lucky; he hadn’t pushed far and hard enough to have broken ribs, yet. As the sun rose and the monastery continued to wake, Felix only paused at the sound of the doors opening to admit someone else into the training grounds, sword still in hand and muscles protesting at the sudden lack of movement. Turning to size up whomever had arrived to either interrupt him, or to perhaps simply make use of the space while preferably ignoring him -- he froze, red eyes widening in shock as he stared. Dumbfounded.

Either he was mad as the Boar, or there was Glenn, in the fucking flesh.

@cindrelle

[winter-sword]

❛ do you know how pleased i was when i saw you ? ❜ (A very relieved Mercie!)

Though Felix’s immediate reaction was to snap that he wasn’t her brother and that he didn’t need her affection, he bit his tongue at the last moment. Instead of sneering at the blonde, as he would’ve done five years ago, the swordsman allowed her to fuss over him... If it would keep her from giving him that sorrowful look she was so good at, then fine; let her have this moment. (What a way to end a battle; a healer embracing him tightly, bloodied armor, swords, shield, and all...) Still, when he spoke, there was an edge to his words.

“I’m fine, stop worrying...”

@daisiechain