#Gautier on Himself

[moeblob]

What if I straight up didn't explain myself? What if I just said trust me on this? Would you?

[indigowallbreaker]

"When your bf lightens his hair to match yours."

The idea of pink haired Sylvain has hung around me for a good while now, so I commissioned @fulgurbugs to make him a reality! Turning it into a slightly Sylveth piece was my own indulgence <3

Fulgurbugs was amazing to work with as always! I cannot recommend them enough. They got the coloring exactly right on Sylvain's new hair and dealt with my various "Wait actually can you change--" messages.

Behold my pastel cuties!!!!

[superdaisypowerhour]

Sylvain is such a good actor that he convinced the entire three houses fanbase that he’s nothing more than a stupid philanderer.

[slxthserenade]

Whenever they see each other, all the Sylvains in Askr probably go “Hey Sylvain !” “Hi Sylvain !” “Looking good Sylvain !” in the style of Ken.

[ali-yona]

i think of sending sylvain to therapy they should just send him to ikea

[unxpctedlygreat]

They want peace, the whole lot of them, they want peace and they want better relationships with their neighbors, and they want to get rid of the importance of Relics (and thus of crests) in the Kingdom

[childofaura]

After finishing Azure Gleam, I wanna talk about Felix and Sylvain’s character (Spoilers)

Info under the “Read More” so I don’t accidentally compromise someone’s playthrough:

I was absolutely blindsided by how elaborate and more in-depth Sylvain and Felix’s character developments were this time in Three Hopes. I’m gonna tackle them individually because while I enjoyed Felix and Sylvain’s characters well enough in Three Houses (even if Felix was a little shit, but he’s MY little shit), I saw a growth in the two that their Three Houses counterparts didn’t even come CLOSE to blossoming into.

So first. Felix.

Though it wasn’t really explained if it happened in Three Houses or not, in Three Hopes, Felix has now been thrust into the position of Duke Fraldarius after Rodrigue retires from the position, to focus more on lending his tactical knowledge to Dimitri. At the WAY too young age of nineteen, our sulky teenage emo-boy (Well, understandably emo of course) finds himself in a position that demands diplomacy and cooperation. And to his credit, the first time we see Felix post two year time-skip, his meeting with Dimitri is entirely professional, and only after do we see some of that trademark Felix-snark. Felix has always been emotional for a reason, but one of his other traits is responsibility. He doesn’t shirk his duties, he doesn’t skip his training, and even if he treats other people poorly, he wouldn’t leave them behind. And as Duke Fraldarius, not only did he have an abnormally large amount of new responsibility hoisted on him, he really knuckled down and realized that acting snippy is only going to hinder his duty to the people of Faerghus.

He’s just matured so much as a character, that you see him resolving his bitter feelings with Dimitri, who he’s seen has attempted his best at mercy and the welfare of his people, and also his own father, who he was mature enough to stop running away from and finally sit down and confront him over how his father talks about his brother’s death. Opening up is a HUGE step for him. Felix, you cheeky bastard, I’m so proud of what you’ve become in this game.

And now Sylvain! Even in Three Houses, Sylvain kind of didn’t really let up on his skirt-chasing, really. He still kind of had a tendency to not take things seriously enough and not really live up to the Gautier name for the sake of his people, despite his good heart. But in Three Hopes, not only did he really set aside his flirting (for the time being), he became responsible for making sure that Dimitri and Felix didn’t do anything stupid to get themselves hurt, because he knew how important they were! And I feel like his character development in Three Hopes is even more poignant with the introduction of his dad, a complete hard-ass who’s actually pretty cruel in a sense. He’s shown his dad that he’s not just some party-boy who goes around without a care in the world, but that he’s matured enough to hold the army together when it seems like no one else will. Also keep in mind that Dimitri mentioned that he consulted Sylvain first when he recruited Miklan to the army; Sylvain, who suffered some pretty serious abuse at the hands of Miklan, had the grace to realize that Miklan’s tactical education from their father would benefit the army, and put aside his personal feelings in order to help their people. I really wish some of the NPCs could have had supports with playable characters, because Sylvain deserved a support with the Margrave and Miklan to either settle differences (Like Felix with Rodrigue) or show how he’s grown to accept the position of Margrave Gautier.

I’m really sentimental about these two guys, ok? I liked them well enough but the mountain of character growth they got in Three Hopes absolutely bodies that of their Three Houses counterparts.

[callmewishful]

Excuse me.

Sylvain and Ashe’s B support?!

Ugh. Just when I thought I couldn’t love them more.

[the-paradigm-web]

Woman Bitten by a Serpent, by Clésinger…...

This captivating marble carving caused a great scandal in the 1847 Parisian Salon. A suggestive image of a naked woman writhing from the pain of a bite inflicted by the snake twisted around her wrist, or that may be just a cover story for something else? Scandalous like few, critics claimed that this masterpiece was produced from a life cast of the commissioner's mistress, Apollonie Sabatier

- also muse to Baudelaire and known as "La Présidente" - as to claim the artist was lazy, unskilled and immodest, and pointed to the dimpled flesh at the top of her thighs to strengthen their point. Proof that there is no such a thing as bad publicity, Clésinger had his friend Theophile Gauter orchestrate the scandal to grow the sculpture's success.

Auguste Jean-Baptiste Clésinger

(1814-1883) was a painter and sculptor known for the sensuality of his works. Trained by his father, also a celebrated sculptor belonging to the Besancon school of painting, he began exhibiting in the Parisian Salon in 1843 and earned immediate success. He produced plenty of acclaimed busts, such as those of Rachel Félix, Louis of Savoy and his dear friend Theophile Gautier.

His works are displayed in places of the highest distinction such as the Jardin du Luxembourg and the Musee d'Orsay in Paris, and was much admired for the funerary monument of Chopin in the Pere Lachaise Cemetery, where he is buried himself, along with many others. After a failed marriage he met his model and mistress Berthe de Courrière, to whom he was still devoted until the end of his life. He received the Légion d'honneur in 1849.

• Height: 56,5 cm (22.2 in). Width: 180 cm (71 in). Marble, 1847.

fIr Musée d'Orsay, Paris.

[pwlanier]

The muscles of the face and of the eye. Colour mezzotint by A. E. Gautier d'Agoty after himself, 1773.

Gautier d'Agoty, A. E. (Arnaud Eloy), 1741-1771.

Wellcome Collection

[silverskye13]

(about the latest drabble): I'm sorry, Welsknight's code of honor says what

Gotta love Chivalry!

Welsknight in RnS is trying is ready best to be a good knight, but he has no church to swear fealty to [unless he builds one himself] and no Knightly Order to train and be ordained with [unless he builds one himself] so unlike Helsknight, who sought out a church in hels and got knighted the Ye Olde Fashioned Way, Welsknight follows the rules of Poetic Chivalry. The more he and Helsknight have fought it out, the more Helsknight's tenets have been incorporated into Welsknight's idea of Chivalry [and Helsknight's tenets themselves are based on Chivalric Laws anyway] but still, their personal creeds are a little to the left of each other.

With that little rant out of the way, the Chivalric Laws I'm using for Welsknight are augmented from Léon Gautier's Ten Commandments of Chivalry:

Thou shalt believe all that the Church teaches and thou shalt observe all its directions.

Thou shalt defend the Church.

Thou shalt respect all weaknesses, and shalt constitute thyself the defender of them.

Thou shalt love the country in which thou wast born.

Thou shalt not recoil before thine enemy.

Thou shalt make war against the infidel without cessation and without mercy.

Thou shalt perform scrupulously thy feudal duties, if they be not contrary to the laws of God.

Thou shalt never lie, and shalt remain faithful to thy pledged word.

Thou shalt be generous, and give largesse to everyone.

Thou shalt be everywhere and always the champion of the Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil.

For the sake of RnS, which has vague gods and saints in hels, but only the gods and saints players make everywhere else, for Welsknight, all tenets about God and Church are Hermitcraft the Server and what it represents. The laws and teachings of Hermitcraft are its pledges to creativity and fairness and prosperity. He will defend it to his dying breath, because it's his home, and the living, breathing part of the universe that he and his friends create in. And any enemy of Hermitcraft is his personal enemy as well.

[I like to imagine the reason Welsknight didn't get involved in the HC x Empires crossover was because he was busy making sure the Empires crew wouldn't start a war he personally had to finish lol]

He really is trying his best.

The problem with Chivalry though, is it is inherently about crusades. Chivalric poems, while filled with a good bit of manner and courtly love, are also filled with the ideas of self sacrifice for a ruthless Good, a Good that roots out evil, with tragic grace. A Good that, ultimately, crusaded against whole countries, because Good wouldn't abide by Evil. Chivalry needs something to fight for. Otherwise it's just a basket of nice, convenient morals, a horse and a suit of armor. So you can imagine, in his own subtle, misguided way, Welsknight is actually quite happy hels exists. What good is a knight without something to fight for? Or better yet, to fight against, because it is very convenient to define yourself by everything your enemy isn't.

And his enemy isn't kind to him. His enemy must be a liar, because what he says about his worthiness as a knight can't be true. And his enemy must be cruel, because he seeks him out to hurt him. And his enemy must be relentless, because he hasn't given up yet. And his enemy is Helsknight, and everything Helsknight stands for, and apparently, Helsknight stands for quite a lot, including other people, and other people can be fought.

(He and Helsknight, despite every kick and scream to the contrary, really are a lot alike.)

[onebizarrekai]

wanted to do some color-themed oc + otherwise groups… maybe got a little carried away!! 💦💦 I was just making these for fun, but now my brain is all over wondering what they'd be like working together on something. a game show. a social experiment on an island. they have to work together to solve puzzles or fight things and run into each other along the way. you know how it is.

I started thinking about how edward would immediately become the leader of team red, how drew is surrounded by a bunch of ladies with a thirst for violence plus an evil god chicken, how arthur would dedicate himself to protecting his group (and tolerating felix) and how he carries the entire team, how team green has the most argumentative people that are barely being held together, and how team purple is pretty good at getting along and has a comical dynamic considering it contains dez, monster people AND louis. I was gonna say team blue is the obligatory disadvantaged team, but they have the most hilarious family dynamic and are led by the biggest pacifists of everyone here and will probably end up befriending a dragon. also kage is there and he's the weird uncle.

list of characters:

team red: edward quinton (ibvs) 16 year-old with stringy powers ellie (fatal flaws/dreamswap) 25 year-old engineer kazune (hopeless) 25 year-old shady guy xaki (greyscale) 12 year-old violent runaway ari (reverie) 20 year-old mystery zinnia (???) 17 year-old mystery with an axe team orange: drew jovel (ibvs) 15 year-old with healing powers crystal mccrae (fatal flaws/dreamswap) 24 year-old bodyguard kevin (fatal flaws/dreamswap) chicken october (october) 16 year-old vampire katherine schultz (bizarre saga universe) 25 year-old evil fire demon noble team yellow: arthur von licht (fatal flaws/dreamswap) ?? year-old political fighter cassie blanchet (hopeless) 12 year-old traumatized child isaac beamer (ibvs) 16 year-old student with art-related powers madeline lockwood (bizarre saga universe) 24 year-old with ice magic felix wolfe (ibvs) 17 year-old student who keeps summoning demons team green: ani gautier (fatal flaws/dreamswap) ?? year-old craftsperson nevin jovel (ibvs) 15 year-old with self-destructive powers brooke (reverie) 20 year-old college student jet (dintis) ?? year-old evil noble joey (hopeless) ?? year-old shady guy saria (bizarre saga universe) ?? year-old maniac team blue: alix (greyscale) 12 year-old student blue lebeau (fatal flaws/dreamswap) 26 year-old yoga teacher dark (dintis) ?? year-old distressed gay man nick rivas (hopeless) 12 year-old traumatized child kage (kagehara cinematic universe) ?? year-old speedrunner team purple: dez gonzalez (ibvs) 16 year-old student with energy powers louis lopez (ibvs) 17 year-old student that is a demon-fighting wizard miles newton (fatal flaws/dreamswap) ?? year-old guy (criminal) endy (oldie) ?? year-old vampire with magic powers shima (kagehara cinematic universe) ?? year-old Demonic Being

[fiction-box]

Hello! I would like to request F!Reader x Felix

It is the Winter Ball. One of them is weary of the dancing, the crowds and the merriment and decides to take refuge in the Training Grounds - only to find that the other had the exact same idea. They decide to do something that's more fun than dancing - a sparring match. Bonus points if reader is wearing a fancy gown the whole time.

Whenever your time allows - thank you in advance!

You are very welcome, and I would like to thank you for being respectful of my time.

I seem to be on a roll with these longer stories. I don't know why - more ideas just keep pouring into my head, and of course I want to do every conflict justice.

Thank you for giving me freedom with perspective! I wanted to write something from the view of Felix since I had yet to truly write for him.

Requests are open. The story will continue under the cut.

You stood by yourself on the sidelines of the great hall, your purple dress sparkling against the downward lighting of the chandeliers. There was nothing particularly interesting about you right now; you simply surveyed the dancers on the checkered floor. Dimitri led Mercedes through an elegant twirl, Ingrid talked Ashe through the steps of the waltz, Annette and Sylvain engaged in a heated discussion over something that probably wouldn’t matter in about fifteen minutes…

…and Felix was staring at you.

The swordsman had refused to do any more than the bare minimum for the ball. That meant that despite his suit - one required by the Archbishop’s insipid dress code - his hair remained up off his neck, and his back pressed against the wall.

Dorothea had been making eyes at him from across the room for the past three minutes now. Felix told himself that was the reason he kept staring at you. If he and the songstress never made eye contact, she wouldn’t do anything stupid. Besides, she didn’t seem interested in asking anyone to dance; the brunette would only be accepting such invitations tonight.

Why the hell did he even care?

He didn’t, but he followed your line of sight to Dimitri. The boar switched partners to lead Hilda around the floor, an exchange initiated by the up-tempo of the cello and Mercedes’ apparent request for a break.

Why the hell did you even care?

…did you-?

“Jeez Felix, you’re so obvious.”

Sylvain.

“Trying to find the courage to ask her to dance?” the redhead teased. “I could help you out, you know. I’ve heard I’m an excellent wingman.”

“Do I look like I’m interested in moving right now? And since when have you ever helped anyone but yourself?”

“Ouch. I mean, you’re certainly not helping yourself- your suit coat will get wrinkled if you keep leaning against the wall like that.”

“As if I care!” Felix pushed off the wall to contest Sylvain at his full height. He did care. “There’s no point in this - we shouldn’t even be having a ball right now.”

“No- No- No- Hey look, no sweat, okay?” Sylvain verbally backpedaled, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulder to guide him toward the refreshments. Subtly, he ran his hand along the wrinkles of his coat to smooth them out as they walked, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but soirées like these don’t happen very often.”

“So?”

“So, you have just as good a reason to be here as everyone else in this room. You can wait however long you want before asking anyone you want to dance, but it’s pretty frowned upon to return to a party once you leave, you know?”

The heir of Gautier knew him too well. Nonetheless, he did make a good point. There was no need to rush to be flustered - he probably had an hour before the final dance of the night.

A drink found his hand, and the two nobles took up a space several paces away from the table. Felix couldn’t stop his eyes from searching for your shimmering gown.

You were still standing alone, still watching the dancers.

At least your eyes weren’t fixed on the boar this time. The son of Count Gloucester glided a blue-haired lady across the floor, her dress trumpeting as he gracefully led her back and forth. Your attention followed their sweeping motions.

Maybe you really did just want to dance.

His classmate’s hand came to rest on his shoulder again, “I’m just saying, you hate to see it, Felix. A beautiful girl like that, standing all by herself. You better make a move before someone else does - or before I take too much pity on her and ask her myself.”

He had called you a girl, “Stay away from her.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you, kay?”

But he headed the opposite direction. The bluenette watched him connect with a pouting Dorothea, immediately starting some banter he was sure he couldn’t care less about.

Felix found himself growing impatient, despite everything his friend said moments ago. If he was going to do this, he might as well get it over with now. That way the two of you would either get as much time as possible to spend together, or he could end his attendance at this event because the one reason for which he cared to stay wanted nothing to do with him.

Only, there was no place to put his drink.

Since you were standing by the southern entrance, and he loitered near the drinks at the western wall, you could see him out of your peripheral. That meant you could catch him too easily if he were to look at you again. Not that it wasn’t already considered rude to stare.

Taking a sip of the cool, vanilla drink, his mind began to think it through a bit. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to make eye contact. It would give him an excuse to approach you.

And another thing - although you hadn’t been alone the whole ball, you hadn’t been approached by any men, either. Even working to put his bias out of the way, you were objectively attractive. It didn’t-

Goddess, and you belonged to a house in the kingdom, too. A young, available, attractive noblewoman standing by herself at - judging the crowd - the largest social event of the season.

A mumbled ‘What the hell…?’ parted his lips as he surveyed the room again. He might actually understand Sylvain, for once. Logically, this whole scenario didn’t connect.

Finally finishing his drink and handing off the glass, he found it in himself to turn to face you.

You were not there.

His heart skipped a beat before his gaze scanned the dance floor for your dress, your hair, anything. Upon coming up empty, his mind shoved one thought to the front of his mind.

You left the ball.

Again, why? There were too many important people here for you to just up and leave. You hadn’t tried to mingle this whole time, content with simply watching everyone else twirl about the floor. Then, the moment he became too preoccupied with his drink and with Sylvain to pay attention, you vanished.

In light of recent events, it looked like Felix was about to copy you.

With no further reason to stay, he tried not to make a show of striding to the southern entrance. The last thing he wanted was for someone to chase him out or call him back in, especially if that person had red hair or…or connections to the Mittelfrank Opera Company.

His feet instinctively wound the path to the training grounds. He needed to blow off some steam and get out of his head so he could get some proper rest tonight. Even so, if his mind wouldn’t relent, he would work his body so hard that he’d sleep as soon as he finished bathing himself.

Music trailed him, but it couldn’t compete with the creak of the doors to the training grounds. Once the door shut behind him, Felix was well and truly alone. The notes of the orchestral violins couldn’t penetrate the thick wood and metal, and no one else had any reason to come here tonight.

Still, his actions quickly caught up with him. What was he doing here? Why did it feel like he was running away?

Get a grip.

He wasn’t running away, he just wasn’t wasting time, either. Heading to the rack, Felix grabbed a steel sword. It didn’t matter which one, so long as it was heavy.

The sand of the center pit caved beneath his feet. There was no need for a training dummy to warm up. Routinely, Felix swung the sword over his head. His arms needed to be steady even while his attacks retained momentum and strength.

…10…11…12…

Any time a thought of the ball wormed its way into his head, Felix would shove it out. No point in dwelling on his failure to act - the two of you were far too young for anything serious to happen. No need to worry about Sylvain finding you - after what he said earlier, there was no way he would leave all the other ladies in that room for the one he knew Felix was interested in. He knew Sylvain that well, at least.

…57…58…59…

Why the hell wasn’t this working? Usually he could focus on this. This one thing that belonged to him, that he had done endlessly before that insufferable ball, and that he would continue to endlessly pursue after it. His training should belong to him! This was supposed to be how he grounded himself.

Felix was having a very difficult nig-

The doors to the entrance groaned, a delicate piano solo floating in through the opening as the moonlight guided a figure into the facility.

Upon recognition of the shimmer of your gown, the swordsman lowered the weapon from above his head.

…82…?

Thoughtful of the ongoing formal, you pivoted around the door, slowly and mindfully closing it in an apparent attempt to make as little noise as possible. Finally, you exhaled and turned to the center of the grounds.

“Oh- I- Sorry! Sorry, I’ll go.”

But your eyes hadn’t adjusted to the light of the torches from the darkness outside, so your eyelashes fluttered as you reached past the door.

“No need,” Felix frowned. “You chose to come here, I don’t own the place.”

“Wait, Felix?” you marveled, turning back around only to blink against the light again. “I didn’t recognize you. I thought you were someone on maintenance.”

What. “What kind of maintenance staff wears a suit?”

“I didn’t get a good look, okay?” you defended, your eyes finally staying open and guiding you to where he currently stood.

Being this close to you now…it felt strange. Your makeup had been expertly applied, supposedly with help from Mercedes and Annette, the tailoring of your dress was much more obvious…

“But why are you here? You’re dressed for the ball, and I remember seeing you when I walked in.”

“You first,” he countered. “What did you think you were going to accomplish here in an evening gown?”

That caught you off guard. Your eyes found a spot on the ground beside you before trailing to the wall.

“I don’t know. I didn’t really have a plan. I’m not even sure why I’m here - I just feel like I’m supposed to be.”

His eyes narrowed, “What, are you trying to trick me into thinking this was fated or something?”

Your gaze drew back to him, confusion etched across your face.

“What?”

“Sylvain must have said something to you then, is that it?”

But you only looked more lost than you did before, “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Sylvain and I haven’t spoken since…” your line of sight shifted above his head and slightly to the side, “…two days ago…? Professor Byleth puts us on stable duty every few days.”

The bluenette’s knuckles turned white as he clenched the hilt of his sword. Sylvain never said anything about this. Felix had no clue you were spending so much time together.

“Forget it,” he insisted, “you’re here, so we might as well do something productive. Spar with me.”

“In an evening gown? You practically said it yourself, I can’t do anything wearing this.”

Goddess save him, he did not know how to handle this situation. In terms of guiding the conversation, he did not think this through. There didn't seem to be a way for him to keep changing the subject or coming up with an idea for you to stay here, either.

All his defense mechanisms were failing, and he was becoming frustrated.

“Okay, your turn,” you crossed your arms, saving him for a moment. “Why did you leave the ball to come here?”

“There wasn’t a reason for me to stay, anymore.”

Some of the light in your eyes dimmed, just enough for him to catch it happening. Just enough to make him wonder why.

“Hang on,” he recovered, “you know I left to come here.”

“That’s not a question,” you affirmed.

“But you didn’t leave to come here. So why weren’t you at the ball?”

Your brows furrowed slightly, “I was at the ball-“

“No, you left before I did,” he asserted. “What were you doing in the time before you arrived here?”

Perhaps he was revealing too much. It shouldn’t matter anyway, and a normal person wouldn’t care this much. Even so, if you wanted to say you were just “called to be here”, he could reasonably contest that any information was up for grabs.

The way you stared at him had a way of making his neck warm. It was like you thought the answers were hidden in his eyes, your gaze focused as you supposedly retraced your night.

“Well, I did leave the ball for a little bit…” you recalled slowly.

After allowing you a moment, he pressed a bit, “Why?”

“Oh- Well, um…I needed to use the ladies’ room? At least, that’s the only other time I can remember leaving.”

The ladies’ room…?

Goddess, he was such a fool.

It was his turn to turn his head to the side, “I see.”

If his eyes could have burned the sand, the whole pit would be glass right now. 

His thoughts were quickly interrupted. Out of the corner of his eye, Felix noticed you slipping off your shoes.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” you started, kicking the raised flats to the side before picking up a training lance from where someone had discarded it, “this dress doesn’t have sleeves, and I figured that if I took my shoes off, it would be easier to move. The slit up my leg should keep me mobile enough, so long as I don’t have to run.”

Damn, you were actually going to do this.

You lowered into a fighting stance upon returning to the pit opposite him. A smile lighting up your face.

“The sand feels so weird. It makes me wonder if this is what the beach feels like.”

But the two of you lived in Faerghus your whole lives, so he couldn’t tell you.

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re dressed differently.”

“Right, then let’s get started.”

You looked prepared to assume the defensive position; a smart move, considering that too much movement might mean you would slip on the long fabric of your clothing.

Felix far from opposed. He was used to being the offense, anyway.

Placing one foot in front of the other, he crossed the grounds and held his sword up to strike. Quick and easy - the point would go to him before you could even-

Your eyes widened, “Felix, wait! Don’t-!”

He hadn’t registered your words fast enough to stop himself. Intuitively, you held your lance up to defend yourself, and that’s when Felix realized what you were so worried about.

The weapon he was using wasn’t meant for sparring.

Breaking above your head, the wooden pole of your lance gave in. Felix stumbled forward, fighting for his balance as you rolled to the side in an attempt to protect your head.

He hissed, cursing himself for making such an amateur (and deadly) mistake, “Damn, my bad.”

“Goddess,” he heard you breathe, your eyes wide from your position on the ground, “I thought I was about to die.”

That was a thought. His eagerness to train and avoid an awkward encounter with you nearly...well, it wouldn’t have been pretty.

Leaving you to get yourself up, he moved to trade the steel sword for a wooden one. The noble also elected to take off his blazer and leave it behind, giving his arms better range of motion.

Turning back around, he noticed you were still struggling to rise to your feet.

“Seriously? It can’t be that hard.”

But just watching you made him want to take it back. The sand had become uneven from when you dodged toward the ground, and your dress kept finding its way under your feet whenever you tried to stand. Whenever you pooled the fabric out of the way in one area, it only gathered in another to slide under you. Not to mention that after so much struggle, the yellow grains were all over your skin and gown. It looked uncomfortable, at best.

Frowning, Felix approached, “Hang on.”

With your consent, he placed his hands at your waist and lifted you to the point you could stand again. You thanked him, a light flush on your cheeks that he tried not to think too hard about.

“I’d say that was embarrassing,” you started, “but considering I very nearly earned a trip to Manuela a moment ago, I don’t think I should care.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Nothing bad came of it, so I don’t mind. Still, you should work on your etiquette.”

The swordsman raised a brow, “Excuse me?”

“You left me to fend for myself in the sand for two minutes while you went to exchange your sword and take off your coat. It’s like I’m not even here,” you teased, approaching the training racks. “And then not only did you prioritize your sword over helping me, but you couldn’t even grab me a new lance.”

“I’m here to fight, nothing else. If you have a problem with that, no one’s forcing you to stay.”

In all fairness, you were right. He was too wrapped up in being with you to register that he was about to hurt you, and then he was too worried about how he almost hurt you to remember to help you back up again.

Why was he so bad at this?

Thankfully, you seemed to ignore the more bitter parts of his previous statement and took it for what it was - a proposition to rematch.

You found your places opposite one another, preparing for a genuine spar. Felix watched you sink into your defensive position again, nodding to confirm you were ready. 

This time when he charged, his sword remained in a lower position. He wanted to slice upwards, reading your potential roll to the side while still being ready to follow up swiftly.

The moment he brought the sword up into you, you pivoted and thrust the lance forward. It would have technically impaled him, but you were courteous enough (and skilled enough) to angle the weapon so it slid against his side instead.

Felix halted the momentum of his arms, bringing them down slowly and preventing the hit he would have landed on you.

“That one goes to you.”

Switching sides with you, the second son ran his hand along his side. A warmup, nothing more. You wouldn’t go down easy, and neither would he.

You were once again prepared, and Felix signaled that the second round had begun, but he did not rush forward. If you wanted to hit him, you would need to put yourself at risk.

It didn’t take long for you to catch on, though you make a point to approach at a casual walk.

“Are you serious?”

“Are you? You think I’m foolish enough to run at you after I couldn’t stand on my own? If you wanted to go fast, you should have taken up offense again.”

Once you were close enough, you suddenly lunged twice and brought your lance down and across his body. Felix lept back before charging forward, but you came in with a block.

You held strong against his resistance, but your feet couldn’t find a proper stance thanks to your limited range of motion. He probably had your fear of slipping on the fabric again to thank, as well.

Deliberately, Felix stepped on your dress.

A gasp parted your lips as the heels of your feet slid forward. You fell backward only for Felix to step forward and catch you, one arm around your back, one hand holding his sword to your throat.

“Th-that’s not fair, and you know it,” you protested, breaths quickened from the adrenaline of almost falling.

“You chose to come fight in this. You think your opponent is going to care how you’re dressed?”

After a moment, you relented, “Fine, you win this one.”

Usually, Felix would be okay with the “whatever means necessary” ideology. When it came to you, however, it only worried him. Did he really need you to have a disadvantage for him to win?

He lowered you to the ground before picking you up again, presuming you would take longer to regain your footing if he left you on the sand. You were set upright on your feet at the solid edge of the pit.

As he reached the other side of the sands, he noted that you still looked bitter - probably about the last point. Perhaps that could work in his favor.

However, even after several seconds, the emotion in your eyes didn’t go away. You appeared almost…insulted?

In the back of his mind, he retraced his steps. You yielded the point how you normally would, and you weren’t a sore loser. You appeared more baffled than anything when he had tripped you…

Shit.

Felix had completely manhandled you out of the training area.

And that would explain why you were simultaneously glaring daggers into him and scanning him up and down.

“Don’t worry, I’ll attack this time,” the bluenette managed. In fear of being wrong and coming off egotistical, that was probably the best apology he could give right now.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

No, you were decidedly not happy.

He approached, trying to build as much momentum as possible before choosing to open with a block. If you were looking to parry an attack, he would be left with an opening. If you were looking to block him too, he would likely knock you to the ground and gain the point.

Maybe then he could offer to help you up properly.

No, he needed to stay focused. He was training right now, not apologizing.

Effectively distracted, neither of his plans came to fruition as you reached out and grabbed his cravat, pulling it down and causing him to run past you.

“Wh-!”

A dull stab at his back shoved him out of bounds, taking away any chance he had at regaining his balance. He tumbled to the ground.

“You’ve been impaled, that’s mine.”

He wanted to be mad, but he was more shocked than anything. After all, he could hardly complain after doing a similar thing to you last round.

A hand in his peripheral offered to help him to his feet. Accepting it, he rose, picking his sword up off the ground.

At least that seemed to get everything out of your system, “Maybe you were right, we can’t really accomplish anything serious while we’re dressed like this.”

“It’s not like we…”

A song loud enough to be heard from within the training ground bounced against the walls. It caught him off guard, especially since he hadn’t been able to hear any music since you closed the doors earlier. Whatever they were playing now, the whole orchestra was involved.

“The last dance already?” your head turned to the entrance, as well. “There’s no way…”

“Did you promise someone a dance?” he guessed.

“Something like that,” you worried. “I told Annette and Mercedes that I would be sure to dance with at least someone tonight after all they did for me. I…kind of got carried away watching earlier, and then I got scared I would forget the moves, and then I left to come here.”

He didn’t know what to say, but there was no way you could go back now. Sand covered your slightly tousled hair, your gown, and he was sure it found its way into your shoes. Your cheeks were still somewhat red from earlier, and…

It was all his fault. He even stepped on your gown without thinking.

Goddess, he really needed to start using his head.

Tossing his sword into the sand, Felix took the lance from your hands and threw it aside too. Swiftly, he retrieved your shoes and placed them in front of you.

“Felix, there’s no way…” but you slid them on anyway, “…and the song already began. It will be over by the time I get there.”

Face unreadable, your classmate extended a hand to you. “Do you think it would count if we started now?”

“Wait, what? You…want to dance with me?”

“If you don’t want me to be your partner after everything that’s happened tonight, I’ll understand-“

You took his hand, placing your own on his shoulder and facing him completely, “You lead. I’m still not certain how this one goes.”

It was a lie. It must have been. The moment the pair of you felt the music together, you were off. The strings followed a simple waltz - an accessible dance that even most commoners could perform. An obvious choice for the last dance of the night.

He knew his frame to be stiff, but it didn’t matter. Especially not when you were so blatantly stealing the hypothetical show, swaying and leaning back as the two of you spun gracefully around an invisible point on the ground. Your arms barely ghosted his own.

In a rare moment, he wished his dance partner were less aware, less experienced. He wanted you to lean on him so he could lead you through the dance, but he knew that was not in your nature.

You were charming, assured, and independent. The dance belonged to you, so much so that he felt like a mere prop. He supposed that was how it went in the theatres Sylvain had always dragged him to in the past. The women stole the spotlight while the men were evaluated on how good they could make their partners look.

There was no doubt. You deserved a better partner.

“Hey,” his voice was unsure. It had been several measures since he last used it. “I…you shouldn’t be dancing with me.”

“What are you talking about?” you smiled, coming back to his chest and resuming your normal posture.

“I mean you should be in the great hall, dancing with someone that would actually do you justice,” he suddenly didn’t want to face you. “I feel like I took that away from you. I spend all my time here working with a sword - my last dancing lesson ended when I was twelve.”

He stopped himself, spinning you away before he could say too much. This was about you. You had missed what could have been one of the biggest days of your life. He pulled you back in and met your eyes. Felix missed an event he already planned on skipping.

“...it’s nice. I prefer it. This way it’s just us.”

“Just us?” he hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat.

“Oh- I only mean- I don’t have to worry about anyone staring at me because I don’t know the steps or anything.”

It was beginning to make him angry, if only because it made no sense, “Why do you keep saying that?”

You were caught off guard, slipping up for the first time tonight. Felix finally felt useful, steadying you enough to fall back into the orchestra’s rhythm.

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” you lowered your voice like you were telling him a secret. “That’s what my sister told me. She and everyone that visited the manor.”

Blinking a bit, you turned to the side, “I’m doing it wrong. My steps are too wide. My arms are too heavy. I must be repulsed by my partner if I’m leaning back that much. Those kinds of things.”

Your partner merely scoffed, “Jealous.”

He hadn’t meant for it to slip out, but he knew.

“They can’t do what you can. There are nobles all over Fodlan like that; people who don’t like being shown up. They’ll say anything to make you give up or feel bad about yourself, but they lack the ambition to do any better themselves.”

“You really think so?”

“Have you met anyone better at dancing than yourself?”

“Well, I…I’ve never seen myself dance before.”

“Then take my word for it. Show Professor Byleth if you doubt it, but just be prepared for her to demand a rematch for the Heron Cup.”

Honestly, Felix didn’t know why he was being so forward about this. It was just another unjust part of the world they were all tripping over themselves to fix, he supposed. Still, if dancers could be trained for the battlefield, he saw no reason for his house to settle on an amateur.

The piano slowed to play a few high notes and end the song on a major chord. Accordingly, the two of you came to a stop.

“Thank you,” you stepped away timidly, “for the dance…and…”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel better. Manuela could teach you - you could do this on the battlefield much better than whoever actually won the competition.”

You hummed, probably pondering the thought.

Presuming it was time to head back before you both could be found and accused of something mindless, Felix picked up your weapons from where he had discarded them. He caught you brushing the sand off your skin and down your dress before he left to put the items away. The blazer he set aside earlier found its way to his back again, his cravat tucked in appropriately.

You waited across the hall to hold the door for him. Once you both walked through, it shut with a final thud, sealing away everything that happened in the training grounds that night.

He saw you talking to Professor Byleth after class the next day. Although he couldn’t hear what you were saying, some part of him hoped you chose to take his words to heart.

Perhaps it had been a good time to host a ball.

[goodqueenaly]

Do you see a similarity between Margery Tyrell (as well as Elinor Tyrell, Megga Tyrell, and Alla Tyrell) being put on trail and the trail of the daughter's in law of King Philip the Fair of France (specifically as described in The Accursed Kings), I was reading the Iron King a few weeks ago and it made me wonder if there was a connection as GRRM is a fan of the The Accursed Kings.

Me, think about a connection between ASOIAF and The Accursed Kings? Now when have I ever done that before?

(It me, it always me. Also long, more under the cut.)

Absolutely, I 100% believe that GRRM partially (emphasis on partially) based the supposed love affairs of Margaery and her cousins on the Tour de Nesle Affair as depicted in The Accursed Kings - specifically the first novel of the series, The Iron King. To very briefly summarize, the Tour de Nesle affair centers on the three daughters-in-law of King Philip IV of France: Marguerite of Burgundy, wife of Philip’s eldest son, Louis (and Queen of Navarre, since Louis is King of Navarre in his own right); Marguerite’s cousin Jeanne of Burgundy, wife of the king’s second son, Philip; and Jeanne’s sister (and, naturally, Marguerite’s cousin) Blanche, wife of the king’s third son, Charles. Marguerite and Blanche engage in extramarital sexual affairs with two courtiers, the brothers Philippe and Gautier d’Aunay, with Jeanne acting as facilitator and messenger for their trysts; the affair takes its name from the tower of the Hôtel-de-Nesle, the manor of the King of Navarre, where Marguerite and Blanche entertain their lovers. The affair is discovered by another French prince, Robert of Artois, and he and Philip IV’s daughter, Isabella, engineer a scheme to trap the princesses and expose them. Marguerite, Blanche, and Jeanne are subsequently caught and found guilty, the former two of adultery, the latter of aiding and abetting them; Marguerite and Blanche are imprisoned (the former until she is murdered, the latter until she dies, prematurely young and apparently insane), while Jeanne is likewise initially imprisoned but eventually freed by and reunited with her husband.

With respect to parallels between this story and the plot of AFFC, the Tour de Nesle affair and the affair Cersei invents for Margaery both involve several interrelated royal (or semi-royal) ladies. I mentioned above the princesses in The Iron King, who are called the “Princesses of Burgundy”: Marguerite is the daughter of the Duke of Burgundy, while her cousins Jeanne and Blanche are referred to as the “sisters of Burgundy”, daughters of the late Count of Burgundy. (Yes, the Duchy of Burgundy and County of Burgundy were at this time two separate political entities despite sharing a name). Likewise, the sexual scandal dreamed up by Cersei centers on four Tyrell girls at court, with one a queen: Queen Margaery, of course and three of her cousins, Megga, Elinor, and Alla. None of the Tyrell girls are sisters to any of the others, but all four are part of an extended Tyrell family, grouped together as “Tyrells” much as the three princesses of The Iron King are counted together by Robert of Artois as part of the “family of Burgundy”. In turn, just as Robert of Artois seeks to reveal the scandal specifically so that “[t]he whole family of Burgundy will be plunged up to the neck in the midden … [and] their inheritance will no longer be within reach of the Crown” - leaving that disputed inheritance open to Robert himself - so Cersei, furious at being “awash in roses”, dreams of framing Margaery for a crime of treason so serious that “even her own lord father must condemn her, or her shame becomes his own”.

Moreover, the parallel between these plots in The Iron King and AFFC is strengthened by the identities of the respective plotters. As I noted, one of the two chief architects of the plot against the princesses of Burgundy is Queen Isabella - daughter of King Philip IV of France, sister-in-law to the three princesses, and Queen of England as the wife of King Edward II. Just as Cersei is considered one of the most beautiful women in the Seven Kingdoms, inheriting the golden good looks of any number of Lannister antecedents, Isabella is often compared to her famously handsome father, Philip the Fair, sharing what Druon calls the king’s “legendary personal beauty”; a courtier of her father’s, Hughes de Bouville, even goes on to compliment Isabella in a later novel, The She-Wolf of France, by saying that Isabella had inherited “all [King Philip’s] beauty which was so impervious to time”. Yet The Iron King opens on Isabella by calling her “the loveless queen”, and it’s a description as fitting to Cersei as it is to the daughter of Philip IV.  Just as Isabella is trapped in a miserable marriage to Edward II, so Cersei was trapped in a terrible marriage to King Robert Baratheon - marriages made by their respective fathers, for the political gains of their paternal families. Indeed, King Philip’s retort to Isabella’s complaints about her bad treatment at the hands of her husband - “I did not marry you to a man … but to a King. I did not sacrifice you by mistake” - seems like the sort of reply Tywin would have given to Cersei, having chosen to make his daughter queen and secure a future royal grandson despite privately dismissing Robert as a stupid oaf (to say nothing of Robert's years of abusing Cersei). 

Likewise, both queens seek solace in their eldest sons, as well as their birth dynasties. Isabella is first shown approving that her baby son Edward’s first word was “want”, which Isabella calls “the speech of a king”; she also teaches her son that “he belongs to France as much as to England” and insists that he “get accustomed to the names of his relatives” and learn “that his grandfather, Philip the Fair, is King of France”. Isabella also surrounds herself with reminders of her French past: The Iron King opens with Isabella listening to a French poem, her most trusted lady-in-waiting is the French Jeanne de Joinville, and in a later novel, The She-Wolf of France, Isabella loses to her husband’s favorite a book of poetry by Marie of France. For her part, Cersei has made sure - or at least tried to make sure - that Joffrey was raised as a Lannister with no love for his Baratheon “father”; indeed, Cersei even likes to think of conceiving Joffrey with Jaime as an act of revenge against Robert while trapped at the home of Robert’s maternal family. Joffrey’s surcoat when he duels Robb at Winterfell shows the Lannister lion equal to the Baratheon stag, imagery he later makes his official standard when he becomes king, and he famously has in the first book a sword he proudly calls Lion’s Tooth; too, when he is married, the Lannister banners are displayed as equal to the Baratheon and Tyrell banners, underlining the Lannister importance in Joffrey’s reign. 

Too, neither queen has much love for the eventual objects of their respective plotting. When Robert of Artois informs Isabella that the princesses of Burgundy “hate you”, Isabella replies that “[t]hough I don’t know why, it is true that as far as I am concerned, I never liked them from the start”; Robert then adds his opinion, that Isabella “didn’t like them because they’re false, because they think of nothing but pleasure and have no sense of duty”. Indeed, Isabella’s longstanding dislike and distrust of her sisters-in-law seems reflected in her suspicions, apparently established before the beginning of The Iron King, that the princesses were already deceiving their husbands with extramarital lovers, seemingly heightened by the contrast to her own faithful (for her part) but loveless marriage - Isabella later tells Robert that “when I think of what I am denying myself, what I am giving up, then I know how lucky they are to have husbands who love them”, declaring “[t]hey must be punished, properly punished!”. Cersei’s distrust of Margaery, of course, can hardly be overstated, though in her case the origins of her hatred stem not from Margaery herself but rather Cersei’s paranoia about her, Cersei’s, own prophesied downfall at the hands of a younger and more beautiful queen. Convinced - probably at her ultimate cost - that her son’s (or sons’) eventual wife would fulfill the prophecy Maggy gave so many years prior, Cersei was predisposed to dislike, distrust, and deeply fear such a woman from the first 

So both queens set out to denounce and bring down their royal in-laws through the revelation of a sexual scandal - the bombshell news that a queen and her aristocratic cousins have taken lovers in the persons of a few highborn courtiers. Both plots begin at their outset with the queens appointing spies in the households of the targets of the plots. Robert of Artois advises Isabella to request one of his allies be placed in Marguerite’s household as what he terms “a spy within the walls” - a successful move for Robert and Isabella's conspiracy, as not only does Marguerite (correctly) suspect Madame de Comminges for “always trailing about in her widow’s weeds”, but Robert also reveals that “[s]ince entering Marguerite’s service, Madame de Comminges sent him a report every day”. Cersei herself recruits Taena Merryweather from Margaery’s own household, blithely confirming Jaime’s suspicion that “[s]he’s informing on you to the little queen by saying that “Taena tells me everything Maid Margaery is doing”. Taena, for her part, tells Cersei what Cersei wants to hear, often dropping sexually suggestive hints supposedly about Margaery and her court, which encourage Cersei in her plot against Margaery. 

Additionally, each queen faces the difficulty in singling out the rival queen in question given the presence of those rivals’ respective ladies. Robert of Artois complains that the princesses of Burgundy are “[c]lever wenches” because while Jeanne or Blanche often go to “pray” with Marguerite at the Tour de Nesle, each acts as an alibi for the other; as Robert concludes, “[o]ne woman at fault finds it difficult to defend herself”, but “[t]hree wicked harlots are a fortress”. Indeed, Taena Merryweather borrows almost the exact same castellated metaphor from Robert, claiming that Margaery’s “women are her castle walls”, as “[w]henever men are about, her septa will be with her, or her cousins”. This commentary from Taena inspires Cersei to ponder whether “[Margaery’s] ladies are part of it as well … [sic] not all of them, perhaps, but some” and then manipulate the confession of the Blue Bard to implicate Elinor, Megga, and Alla in the invented affair.

So in both cases, the groups of royal ladies are accused of fornication, with one lady from each excepted for a charge of what we might call criminal knowledge instead. In the case of the princesses of Burgundy, it is Jeanne who is deemed “guilty of complicity and culpable complacence”, while in the case of the Tyrells it is young Alla who is “charged with witnessing their shame [i.e. the supposed sexual relationships of Megga, Elinor, and Margaery] and helping them conceal it”. The distinction in charges notwithstanding, all the ladies are thereafter imprisoned, with both the Burgundy princesses and the Tyrell ladies stripped of their finery: at their judgment, the princesses of Burgundy kneel before the king “shaven and clothed in rough fustian” (so humbled that Jeanne and Blanche’s mother mistakes them for “three young monks”), and when Cersei visits the imprisoned Margaery, the young queen is dressed in “the roughspun shift of a novice sister”, with “[h]er locks … all a tangle”.

(It’s probably going too far to suggest that the planned roles for two courtier brothers in Cersei’s plot echoes the involvement of the d’Aunay brothers in the Tour de Nesle affair. After all, only Osney of the three Kettleblacks was supposed to have had sex with Margaery, and only Osney did have sex with Cersei, whatever Cersei would later claim to the High Septon.)

(I would be amused if GRRM named Margaery after Marguerite of Burgundy, knowing perhaps he would use her in an Accursed Kings-like plot in the future. However, I’m not saying this was necessarily or even likely the case: Margaery had been named since AGOT, after all long before the writing and publication of AFFC, and while GRRM’s affection for Maurice Druon and The Accursed Kings predates ASOIAF, there is no evidence that he planned this sort of parallel all the way back in 1996. The similarity of names may be simply an amusing coincidence, or even a retroactive realization by GRRM that he could use a similarly named character to star in a plot directly inspired by Marguerite of Burgundy’s story.)

Now, does this mean GRRM limited himself to The Iron King in creating this plot point for AFFC? Absolutely not, I would say. Indeed, I think it is very clear that GRRM also looked to the popular conception of the downfall of, and all but certainly false accusations leveled against, Anne Boleyn for further inspiration. Here, as in the popular imagination of Anne’s undoing, is a queen accused of sexual affairs with several male courtiers, who are imprisoned along with her (though note that according); here, as in the trial of Anne Boleyn, is a singer, supposedly among those accused lovers, tortured into a presumably false confession (and being the only accused lover to confess); here, as with Anne and George Boleyn, is a charge of incest against a queen and her brother, so obviously ludicrous in both cases that no contemporary takes it seriously; here, as with the arrests and subsequent release of Thomas Wyatt and Richard Page, are two courtiers seemingly accused of the same crime, but expected to be freed in order to demonstrate the guilt of the others. It’s an obvious but important point that GRRM does not need to borrow only to one point of inspiration, fictional or historical (or, rather, what he imagines as historical), for any given narrative he wants to write. Drawing connections between The Iron King and the plot against Margaery and her cousins no more invalidates connections between that same plot and the popular conception of Anne Boleyn’s downfall than comparing, say, Baelor to Louis IX of France (including the latter’s depiction in The Accursed Kings) invalidates comparisons between Baelor and Henry VI of England. 

This last point extends to Cersei herself as well. While I definitely believe GRRM borrowed elements from Isabella of France for Cersei, I have also argued, and still believe, that Cersei also shared elements of her character and story with Marguerite of Burgundy herself. Parallels between Cersei and Marguerite should not nullify or undermine parallels between Margaery and Marguerite (specifically in this context of affairs/supposed affairs), any more than parallels between, say, Edward IV of England and Robert Baratheon should nullify or undermine parallels between that same King Edward and Robb Stark (specifically in the context of a secret marriage with no apparent political benefit). GRRM is not required to neatly match one for one a character in his universe to a historical or fictional figure, nor would I think we as readers would want him to; it would be a pretty boring story if he simply copy pasted figures from extant works or history and swapped their names for those he created. 

Plus, I think Margaery and her cousins are pretty likely to come out of their trials much better than the princesses of Burgundy did with theirs. Most obviously, as even the High Septon admitted, the case against the queen and her cousins is weak - as indeed it might be, given that Cersei invented the affair in the first place. Far from the d’Aunay boasting about their royal lovers by wearing the infamous purses given them by the princesses (and gifted to them by Queen Isabella, to catch the lovers with them), all of the supposed lovers of the Tyrell girls save the Blue Bard have denied the affair, and his testimony is denounced as “half-mad”. On a practical level, the High Septon surely knows the danger for him, and his position, of convicting Margaery, given that Osney reported on the crown of sparrows demanding Margaery’s release (news Cersei regards ruefully, since as she thinks “Margaery has been their little pet”). Add to that threat the presence of Mace at the head of his army, returned to the capital explicitly to see through his daughter’s trial, and the High Sparrow is playing with fire in truly trying to convict Margaery and her cousins. 

[sothisblessmysoul]

Can I ask for a bouquet of flowers for the blue lions? That sounds so adorable. 🥰

(I never knew if you wanted all of them or selected few so I did all of them)

༓ʚ A Flower's Meaning ɞ༓

Summary: The Blue Lions react to you catching a bouquet at a friend’s wedding

༓Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd He watched you catch it without blinking or flinching, mainly just confused as the realization slowly took over your face as you finally met Dimitri’s gaze. There was something about how the flowers looked in your hands and the look that you gave him that made Dimitri feel so flustered. So pretty, is his single thought as Dimitri’s made his way to you, feet on autopilot.

༓Dedue Molinaro Dedue’s eyes were completely on you, holding the colorful flowers that all mean a term of love in language as everyone else is looking between you and him. He doesn’t flare up in a blush or appear startled but you can see Dedue is feeling embarrassedly flustered by the awkward stiffness of his movement as the tall man makes his way to you.

༓Felix Hugo Fraldarius Felix does not want to be here with unimportant people, if anything he wants to be comfortably at home with you. But he will admit that the other wedding is pretty. Felix wonders if you’ve ever thought about marriage, but any further thought of the subject changes when you catch the flowers that nearly smacked you in the face. The image of what you would look like holding yours flashed quickly in his thoughts as for once Felix quietly watched you.

༓Ashe Ubert A blush marked his freckled face with a happy smile but a shy expression at the teasing that Ashe knows his friends and siblings will give him as you walked over to him. Subconsciously Ashe reached out his hand for you to take, gently pulling you closer to his side as Ashe studied the flowers. The bouquet was pretty but it wasn’t your favorite, he thought to himself. The following thought is how beautiful you would look, holding your favorite flowers while neither Ashe nor you let go of each other’s hands because it felt like two missing puzzle pieces found a place to fit perfectly together.

༓Sylvain Jose Gautier Immediately starts to sweat nervously as the flowers are perfectly in your hand while his hand subconsciously touches his pocket where the ring is that he’s planning to ask your hand for later. He had been carrying it, not having a day or place in mind until right now. This is a sign, he thinks as you lock eyes with him and smile which he returns.

༓Mercedes von Martritz She was standing right beside you when you had caught the flowers, she leaned over to sniffle the flowers with a smile growing on her face as she looked up at you, pulling away from you but not before kissing your cheek. She giggled quietly at your reaction to the flowers and the kisses. She is going to tease you but this will bring up the thought of marriage and the future with her.

༓Annette Fantine Dominic Instantly a crimson blush blooms on her face as endless giggles of excited bundles of nerves, reaching how to touch one of the flowers’ petals. Annette went quiet, wondering what flowers she would pick for her wedding, she subconsciously looked at you. She isn’t going to say anything immediately today or tomorrow but there will be hints of marriage, hoping that you’ll catch on and talk about it with her.

༓Ingrid Brandl Galatea She never really thought deeply about marriage, it was just something that her father wanted for her. But when Ingrid saw your reaction to catching the bouquet to look for her and finally smiling when you found Ingrid, she wondered for a fleeting thought if you would smile like that at the altar. She can’t explain why it made her face blush although Ingrid didn’t hate that idea at all because without question she knows that Ingrid would say yes if you asked her.

[unxpctedlygreat]

Do you think disowning Miklan pained him?

Miklan was his first child, the one he had with his first wife which we know he loved dearly (enough so that her death and his grief completely consumed him and he became a rather cold man), so it can't have been easy.

But Miklan 1) harassed and assaulted Sylvain, 2) turned to banditery and did terrible things in general, which has to have harmed House Gautier's reputation (Sylvain’s dialogue from the beginning of AG with Felix could refer to that, couldn't it? "weird claims about your family")

His saying "Just because I disowned him doesn't mean I can't avenge him" tell me he still loves Miklan even in spite of all that, at least