#loog's book of friends

[hunterofthehunters]

[randomnameless]

AG AU - random Seteth stuff

Being the good host he is, Dimitri heard Seteth's birthday happens on Saint Cichol's Day, and he remembers how Seteth mentionned more than once how Cichol's Treatise on Strategy is very informative and one of the best books about strategy around.

So, even if Seteth might have one copy at the monastery, right now he doesn't have one, right? He found the perfect gift for him!

(also, Lady Rhea assured him he would really appreciate it)

As expected, Seteth was very enthusiastic and thanked him a lot for his thoughtful present. As Rhea didn't expect though, Seteth enjoys collectioning different versions and editions of Cichol's Treatise on Strategy, to check what humans modify with the passing of time and how close they are to his, I mean, Cichol's original version.

Passably annoyed at seeing one of his top strategies being attributed to Saint Macuil ("first he appropriates Indech's achievements and now mine??"), he became really annoyed when some paragraphs mention how Emperor Wilhelm assisted to strategy meetings ("Him?! He always had a hangover or was too busy doing whatever to attend strategy meetings, and always sent his Vestra!")

He became Big Mad (tm) at Rhea ("it wasn't me? Why would ever edit your boring books?") but then Cyril asked him - unaware that it was his birthday - if he could train him with the lance.

Indeed, after talking to Catherine about his problem - aka Rhea not really wanting him to fight because it's too dangerous and he might die - Catherine told him, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, to train to become stronger, duh. So he won't die, and Lady Rhea won't be upset!

Baffled by this "logic", Seteth first wants to refuse, but Cyril insisted. Well, Seteth says he isn't using a lance right now, because the Kingdom needs more axe users, but if he wants, he can try with the young knights under Gilbert's tutelage? He's sure Gilbert will accept to teach Cyril.

"But Lady Rhea said you're the strongest fighter she knows!"

Moved by this declaration, and knowing very well his wyrm of a sister would rather burn her ridiculous hat that say this to his face, he relents and accepts.

Later that day, he meets her and pats her head - like he used to when she was still the sister who found everything he did awesome, and pestered him to have him read her a bedtime story. Rhea smiles, unnerved, and refrains from calling him senile now that he is older.

Meeting with Flayn and her friends, Seteth dreads to eat the cake she most likely made for him today, but thanks to "her friends", it was actually edible, and he thanks, in private, Dedue for helping arrange this "party".

He receives a new quill, a special edition of "Loog and the Maiden of Wind" but the non-racy one, courtesy of Ashe who managed to find one after Flayn told him what Seteth enjoys in his books, a new fishing rod, a dagger from one of his admirers, and a Zanado Fruit (to which Ingrid wondered who put that thing here? It's inedible!).

Thanking everyone for the party, knowing well it was complicated to pull off given the actual context and the on-going war, he returns to his quarters not before patting Rhea's head once again to thank her for the Zanado Fruit - because she can't do anything today it's his birthday, even if he knows she will have her revenge in two weeks.

Rodrigue, who observed that scene from afar wonders, are they siblings or something?

[ladyniniane]

FE OC WEEK DAY 1: Introduction

Here is another FE3H OC I'm introducing for @fe-oc-week! (Though I won't be doing all the prompts with her).

Please note that English isn’t my first language!

❧Name: Maude Yuehua Blaiddyd (Maude means “mighty in battle” and Yuehua is from chinese “Yue”: moon and “Hua”: flower). Also known as Rong Yuehua and Maude Lescure.

❧Age : 25 years old in 747

❧Affiliation: Holy Kingdom of Faerghus

❧In short: A heroine of the War of the Eagle and Lion (yes, she's the "maiden of wind" from Ashe's book!). Maude was born in Dagda to a Faerghian father and a Dagdan mother. A powerful magician, she spent 8 years in Morfis, both as a student and a teacher. Longing to discover her father’s country, Maude traveled to Faerghus where she met Loog and the two fell deeply in love. Seeing Faerghus’ suffering under Adrestian rule, she joined his cause and fought bravely during the ensuing war. She later left her mark in history as Loog’s wife and co-ruler...and Dimitri's ancestress.

❧Apparence: Maude is 1m73 tall with a slender, athletic figure. Her dark hair is cut shoulder-length for practical reasons. She has a sweet oval face and slightly slanted dark brown eyes. Her nose is straight and regular. She has a noticeable scar on her forearm due to an accident when training with magic.

She mostly practical traveling clothes, with pants and a knee-length round collar vest, and a fur-trimmed coat to face the Faerghian winter. Her favorite colors are blue and green. When she arrived in Faerghus, she was still wearing a white garment under her clothes as she was mourning her mother and white is the color of mourning in Dagda. She always paints a blue or red flower on her forehead, between her eyebrows (like this) and likes mixing Faeghian and Dagdan elements in her clothing. Her mother's sword and her father's dagger are always by her side.

❧Theme song: “Shake it out”, Florence and the Machine 

❧Her pinterest

❧Skills: 

Strengths: Reason, sword, authority, brawling (budding talent) 

Weaknesses: lance, axes, bows

Maude exhibited a gift for magic from a young age. Her stay in Morfis allowed her to develop her full potential. She knows rare spells and formulas. Upon her arrival in Faerghus, she teaches the local mages and her formations will later inflict important damage on the Adrestian troops. 

She possesses tremendous magical power and the skills to use it adequately. Among Loog’s close allies, only Pan rivals her in terms of magical ability. As her nickname indicates, Maude has a natural affinity for wind magic and can summon powerful gusts or cutting wind blades. She also uses thunder spells, including Bolting.

With a taste for physical activity, Maude was taught martial arts and swordsmanship during her childhood. She neglected this discipline while in Morfis, but underwent rigorous military training with a former general before she departed for Faerghus. Maude is thus a fast and nimble swordswoman, using a traditional Dagdan Jian. She can also fight without weapons. Training with her new friends allows her to improve her skills in unarmed combat.

❧Personality:  Maude has a bright and energetic personality. She’s extremely sociable and can put even the most timid people at ease. As a teacher, she was patient and knew how to make difficult concepts understandable. She was thus well-liked by her students. She likes exercise, such as fencing, martial arts, running or games such as cuju and exploring new places.

She’s also hardworking, having reached her current level in magic with much perseverance and discipline. When she began studying in Morfis, she realized that she was lacking in some areas and promised to improve. She gives herself the means to reach her objectives.

Another major trait of hers is curiosity. Whether it concerns magic or the world’s mysteries, Maude thirsts for knowledge. Present her with a riddle and she will do her best to solve it. She has been dreaming for a long time of going on an adventure, sailing into the unknown. and discovering the other half of her origins.

This, however, caused her undoing. Maude was so hungry for knowledge that she was once overwhelmed and stayed in Morfis longer than she had planned. Because of that, she missed her mother’s funeral. Though traumatic, this even was a wake-up call and showed her how much Morfis had changed her. She had become so proud of her abilities that she wanted to see how far she could go and amass more power and knowledge. When thinking of this, she now feels guilty and tends to be harsh with herself.

She thus won't be led astray again and won’t waste time dreaming. Since she’s discovering the world, she’s still unaware of some realities but isn’t naive or blind and desires to face them. Clever and resourceful, she knows how to handle herself and analyzes new situations with a practical mind.

She also has a strong sense of justice and longs for a cause. When she discovers Faerghus' situation, she refuses to run away and stays to fight with her friends. She is very much aware of the dangers she faces but isn’t afraid of undertaking long and arduous journeys. Maude is merciless with her foes and doesn’t think twice before striking. During her first battle, she has no qualms about using Bolting on a pirate ship. She won’t let anyone cross her, be they family members.

Stay tuned for her backstory!

[scotianostra]

Ian Andrew Robert Stewart, Scottish keyboard player and manager of the Rolling Stones was born on 18th July 1938 in Pittenweem Fife

Not many know that the Rolling Stones started off as a six-piece band with Sir Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Brian Jones, Ian Stewart, Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts. Soon later Ronnie Wood was added to the line-up, who replaced Brian’s replacement, Mick Taylor. Ian played with the band for many years, though was not a member in the conventional sense.

Ian Stewart responded to Brian Jones’ advert in Jazz News magazine in 1962, keen to be the keyboardist for a new group.

He had been working with Brian previously, as well as drummer Charlie Watts, and the three reunited for Brian’s new project, as well as childhood friends Keith Richards and Sir Mick Jagger.

Before their reunion, another drummer was in the picture, Mick Avery, who went on to drum for The Kinks, as well as bassist Dick Taylor.

Dick and Mick left the band, to be replaced by Charlie and Bill Wyman, who made the first line up.

Ian was not only the keyboardist, but he also was the only member of the band with a phone in their early years, meaning he handled a great deal of the bookings and administration for the band.

His phone was actually at his desk for his day job at a chemical company, meaning he spent some of his working days doing jobs for the band.

They took on Andrew Loog Oldham to be their manager, who was a teenager at the time but had worked publicity for The Beatles and Bob Dylan, as well as being an assistant to fashion designer Mary Quant.

One of Andrew’s key ‘strategies,’ on taking on The Rolling Stones, was to cut down the line-up to a five-piece, given this was something which resonated better with fans.

As a result, Ian was fired from the official line-up but was told he could still tour with the band, and record in the studio.

Keith Richards spoke about this moment in the band’s autobiography, praising Ian - known as Stu - for his attitude to the devastating news.

He said: "[Stu] might have realised that in the way it was going to have to be marketed, he would be out of sync, but that he could still be a vital part.

“I'd probably have said, 'Well, f**k you', but he said 'OK, I'll just drive you around.'

While he was rarely seen in the public eye, he still contributed on most of their records until 1986, and became their tour manager, driving the band to gigs and helping them with their equipment.

He played on most of their albums from 1964 until 1986, except for Their Satanic Majesties Request, Beggars Banquet, and Some Girls.

Sir Mick even suggested it was him who gave them their “groove” on certain songs, and they insisted his name was included when the band was inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame.

He said: “Stu was the one guy we tried to please.

"We wanted his approval when we were writing or rehearsing a song."

Keith Richards, in his autobiography, said of Ian: “Ian Stewart, I'm still working for him. To me, the Rolling Stones is his band."

Ian contributed to other bands’ work as well, such as Led Zeppelin and Howlin’ Wolf, but in December 1985, he went to a clinic to seek help with respiratory problems.

On December 12th 1985, he had a heart attack in the waiting room of a clinic and died, aged 47.

[sbrown82]

Did u read P.P. Arnold's book? What else did she say about her relationship with Mick Jagger?

P.P. first met Mick during the opening night of The Rolling Stones’ 1966 tour when the Ike & Tina Revue were the opening act for the band.

She said she couldn’t understand a damn word he was saying at first! 🤣

Mick would watch Tina and the Ikettes dance from backstage and would come into their dressing room where they would teach him the latest dances like the “Mashed Potato” and the “Pony”.

He eventually asked Tina, "Which one should I go for?" and Tina suggested that he ask P.P. out, who was only 19 at the time.

Mick was the first white person she ever really knew and became friends with.

Their first date they saw a movie, Roman Polanski’s 1965 film “Repulsion” and before you knew it, they started tongue kissing which led to him taking her back to his hotel room where they slept together.

She said Mick was the first man to ever make her feel safe and didn’t force her to do things she didn’t want to do (i.e. hard drugs, sex, etc.)

They had sex A LOT...and never really used protection outside of the pill, which she eventually ran out of.

Mick would kiss her, ride around in limos with her, and hold her hand in public, which was unheard of in America.

He started dating some white girl named Marianne Faithfull (Lol) at the same time as P.P. and seemed to get more serious with her for some reason. She didn’t really mind tho because technically they weren’t official.

She and Marianne became like friends and/or “sister wives” and would shop together and go out to lunch around London.

In the book, she claimed that Mick liked threesomes & group sex, and especially liked to watch other girls go down on her. She wasn’t really into girls tho. 

She eventually grew tired of Ike’s bullshit and wanted to leave, so Mick convinced her to stay in England and sign with the Immediate Label which was led by The Rolling Stones' manager Andrew Loog Oldham.

She was dubbed the first lady of soul in England and Mick produced a few of her songs, and even played guitar on a number of them, including “Though it Hurts Me Badly” which is about their relationship.

In 1967, they were still messing around while he was dating Marianne. She had skipped taking her birth control and he got her pregnant. She called him up while he was on vacation in Morocco and asked him what he wanted to do. They both decided to get an abortion, but he didn’t cut his vacation short. He did instead sent her flowers and called her everyday.

She was kinda hurt and decided to leave soon after. She eventually married her second husband Jim Morris, who was an assistant for the manager of The Bee Gees.

Even tho she had moved on, she and Mick were still cool. The motherfucker even invited her to his wedding in 1971 to “Bitchanca” in St. Tropez. The dumb broad had no idea they used to date. 

Strangely enough she also became close with Marsha Hunt (Mick’s first baby mama) and Claudia Lennear (another Ikette who Mick dated).

***She also said in the book that she made out with Brian Jones, guitarist for The Rolling Stones, in his bed when she visited his home in 1966 and would’ve let him hit if he wasn’t so damn moody and depressed all the time! 🤣

That’s the TEA!!!! ☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️

[atlantis-archive]

Decode Atlantean

Written by: Deborah Barnes Published in: Disney Adventures Collector’s Issue! Atlantis: The Lost Empire Volume 11, Number 6 (pg.46-47). Publisher: Buena Vista Magazines Inc. Publication date: circa July 2001.

(continued from Ready for Launch)

Text:

Decode Atlantean

Learn the language of a lost civilization.

Atlanteans have their own language—very different from the languages of the surface world. Use this handy guide to read and chat like an Atlantean!

Atlanteans communicate by telepathy (that means they can read each others' minds). They don't spend too much time chatting. But they do have their own language. A lot of modern languages come from the ancient Atlantean language. That's why you'll hear Atlanteans use sounds that are common to most of the world's languages, like "ah," "tuh" and "puh." But you wont hear sounds like "f" and "v," which are used mostly in English and a few other languages. The written Atlantean language doesn't recognize capital letters, and there's no punctuation. The alphabet consists of symbols for for the same 26 letters in our alphabet, plus symbols for "CH," "SH" and "TH." Atlanteans read from left to right, then right to left, then left to right—sort of zigzagging down the page. So you would read the first line left to right, then the second right to left, the third left to right and so on.

Atlanean Alphabet

Think you've got it? Try writing a note to a friend in the space below using Atlantean characters.

Speak Like an Atlantean

Want to impress your friends? Wrap your tongue around a few of these simple Atlantean phrases:

Hello: SOO-puhk

Goodbye: GAH-moak

Yes: teeg

No: kwahm

Please (to one person): BEH-kat

Please (to a group): BEH-ket-yoakh

Thanks (to one): PAH-gen

Thanks (to a group): PAH-gekh

What is your name?: mekh-AH-nik MOH-khin EH-seh-toat duhp

My name is...: AH-nik KAH-gihn ___[name here]___ EH seh-toat

What time is it?: Lohg DAH-rim EH-seh-toat duhp

All right! (as in "Good job!" or "Well done!"): Maht

Wow! (As in "That's surprising"): YAHD-loog

Cool! (As in "That's good"): BAH-deg

Have fun!: KWEE-yim

I had a great time!: KWEE-yim-limik

If you want to be ant Atlantean code master, check out the book Code Word: Atlantis for lots more codes and a cool decoder!

Notes:

Of course mostly this is used as a substitution cipher rather than a true language. You can see the letters for CH, SH, TH are literally those two letters. I used to think the spiral-shaped writing system in Artemis Fowl was ridiculous but directionality is actually much more arbitrary than you'd think, anything can work! Boustrophedon style (written in a zigzag) is comparatively mundane by comparison.

[reunionatdawn]

My Analysis of the Best Paired Endings in 3H (Part 18: AM Ingrid/Ashe)

Ingrid: …My father, too, brought up marriage proposals to ensure the family's survival numerous times. I had a fiancé when I was a child… But he passed away at a young age… Mercedes: If that fiancé were still alive… Would you have married him? Ingrid: Well… who knows? I can't even imagine it myself. But I do know that I admired him. A proud way of life as a knight serving the king. Even now, I've always wanted to be a knight like him. I want to live as a knight, not as a tool for the family's survival. Regardless of what my father says.

Ingrid was also a victim of Faerghus's patriarchal culture. She was sold by her father and engaged to Glenn the same year she was born in order to pass on her Crest. There's no question that she loved her fiancé dearly, but I suspect that her love was more like that of a sister toward a brother rather than actual romantic love. She wasn't sure if she would have married him if he had survived.

The Crest of Daphnel is associated with The Chariot arcana. The message is one of maintaining focus and confidence in the pursuit of your goals. It suggests that your strength and commitment is being tested by the universe, so don't give up or look for shortcuts. It also signifies the need to take action and move forward. Finally, it can represent a need to control your own destiny.

Dorothea: I could never hand over my lovely Ingrid to some jerk who only wants her for her Crest. Ingrid: Oh? Do I belong to you now, rather than to myself?

Ingrid's paralogue was about her and Dorothea's contrasting views of marriage. Ingrid was not looking for a provider. Even though she needed the funds, she wanted to belong to herself. Not her father, not her brothers, not a husband. She didn't want to marry a man she wasn't in love with for a dowry. Knighthood was the only way she could pledge her life to a man she chose for herself.

Ingrid: [W]e hardly ever played together. The age gap was just too great. My eldest brother in particular was incredibly strict with me. Whenever I would try to go horseback riding through the hills, he would say… "How dare you do something so dangerous! What if something happened to you?!" What's worse, my father agreed with him. It kept me from getting out on too many adventures as a child. Thinking back on it, I understand their concern. I was the only one in the family to bear a Crest, after all.

Ingrid was also not looking for a protector. She wanted to live an active adventurous lifestyle protecting those she cared for. Knighthood was also a way for her to hold onto her childhood happiness. A time where she was truly free.

Felix: House Fraldarius has been the king's lance and shield for generations. Ever since the time of Kyphon, sworn friend of the great King Loog. At times we've been sent to defeat the crown's enemies. At others, we've held back to defend the throne. I admit the style has its uses, idiotic history of blind faith aside.

Ingrid dreamt of obtaining knighthood and defending the king ever since she was a little girl. Growing up, she was obsessed with the book Sword of Kyphon which was about Loog's "sworn friend". The Aegis Shield is based on Greek Mythology. Rodrigue's middle name is "Achille". The writers were probably inspired by Achilles from the Iliad.

Ingrid: [Kyphon] was the very picture of the perfect knight. In my opinion, the best chapter is right around the middle of the book… Ashe: Ah, the part about the War of the Eagle and Lion? That's my favorite part! "In a flash, Kyphon's sword flew from its scabbard. The knight parried the assassin's blade mere inches from the spine of his king."

If so, Kyphon probably had feelings for Loog beyond just friendship. That may be why Ingrid identified with him. And it's also why she and Rodrigue (though he is the topic for a different post) idealized a knight's death so much. Ingrid didn't just want to serve her country. She wanted to serve as the lance and shield to a man she was in love with. And she was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for him.

Ingrid: I want to serve as a knight and protect my homeland. I know this, through and through. It has been my truth for as long as I can remember. However, I feel that I should choose a path that would benefit my father. I was raised by him in a happy home, never wanting for anything, despite my family's meager finances. I owe it to him to choose a path he'd approve of.

AM!Ingrid was willing to completely give up on her dream and choose a path that would make her father happy. But she has an A+ Support conversation with Seteth that is exclusive to AM. He encourages her to talk with her father and he will respect her wishes.

Ingrid: But even if I do become a knight, I feel an unease deep within me. I fear I will never escape this guilt I carry. That I have shunned my duty as a noble. Byleth: Could you not find a way to do both? Ingrid: To follow both my dream and my duty? I…I had never considered that as an option. Perhaps there is a way.

The idea that she could be a wife and a knight never seemed to occur to her until Byleth suggested it. But that did seem to be the solution to her problems. She becomes a knight in every one of her AM endings, except when paired with Felix or Sylvain.

Ingrid: Oh, you mean the makeup? That's exaggerated. I just learned a bit from Annette. It's still trial and error… Hey Sylvain, do you think I've changed somehow?

In Ingrid's A+ Support with Sylvain, she was wearing makeup before heading to the training grounds. She didn't necessarily dislike looking her best, but she resented the social pressure to pretty herself up for men to "pounce" on. So, the fact that she was dolled up was uncharacteristic for her.

Sylvain: No, I'm not really flustered… I just got a little curious about the reason, is all. Ingrid: …The reason for the makeup, huh. What do you think it is? Sylvain: Well… Is it because of a guy? If we're talking about someone you might like, going by your past tendencies… Felix… No, His Highness also has a chance.

Sylvain was very flustered, suspecting it must be for a guy. His first assumption is Felix, due to her past history with Glenn. But Dimitri was another possibility.

Sylvain: It might also be because of the knights… Oh, wait, me!? Ingrid: I'll hit you. Sylvain: W-wait, I was just kidding! I'm against violence! Being too rough ruins a beauty, you know! ………… Uh, well. I-I mean, when I say "beauty," I'm not talking about flirting or anything, yeah! Ingrid: …Beauty, huh. Hehe.

He also suspected it might be for him, but Ingrid shut that down pretty fast. She was flattered by his compliment, but it was left very ambiguous whether she was wearing the makeup for him or not.

Ingrid: Usually, I wore men's clothing, ran around in the mountains with male friends, and played around. And then… After my fiancé's death, I definitely wanted to avoid anything feminine. Thinking, "There's no need to show it to him," and… I've been bound by something like guilt for a long time.

In the Japanese version of the Ingrid/Sylvain A+ Support, Ingrid mentioned that Annette had been helping her practice her makeup. Her Support with Annette was about how she felt guilty for looking feminine. The fact that she had finally changed her appearance implied that she was ready to move on from Glenn. So, I do believe that Sylvain was right, and she was wearing the makeup for a guy.

Dimitri: You displayed unwavering, excellent spear skills. Was there indeed some change in your state of mind? Ingrid: ...As I mentioned before, thanks to Your Highness, I can move forward.

In her A-Support with Dimitri, she said that she could finally move on from Glenn's death because of him. It even took place at the training grounds, the place she was headed to in her A+ Support with Sylvain.

Dimitri: Ah, yes, that's right. …What did that mean exactly? Ingrid: …I finally managed to accept the truth I've been avoiding for so long. Glenn must have felt deep regret. Yet, I myself didn't want to acknowledge it. I've been twisting his true nature, imposing my ideals, and averting my gaze… Dimitri: …I see.

The tagline for the game was, "Sweet memories twisted by time's cruel hand". Ingrid coped with grief by romanticizing the truth. She had to believe that Glenn died a picture-perfect death like the ones in her childhood storybooks, because the truth was just too horrible. Her Support chain with Dimitri was about realizing that she was projecting her own feelings onto Glenn.

Ingrid: …Your Highness. I won't sacrifice my life for anyone else. But, would you allow me to live for someone else, Your Highness? Not in the sense of throwing away my life—I want to dedicate my life to you. Dimitri: ...Hold on. How should I interpret that? Ingrid: …? However you please, Your Highness. Dimitri: Haha… "However I please," huh. …You win. Ingrid. Once this battle is over, I want you to… As a knight, I want you to support me. …I've been meaning to say that for a while now. We seem to get along well. Ingrid: …As a knight? Uh, um, no! It's nothing! Of course, even without being told, I was planning to fight for you… and, um, for my country.

Ingrid's offer to pledge her life to Dimitri as a knight was essentially a marriage proposal as well. She won't even make a wish with Byleth at the Goddess Tower. And this is actually the ONLY A-Support where her feelings are unambiguously romantic. She dreamt of being a knight to be close to him. If she married Dimitri, she knew she could fulfill both her dream and her duty to her father. Therefore, if you're playing AM, I believe that Ingrid was wearing the makeup for Dimitri.

While Ingrid's feelings were very clear, Dimitri's response to her "proposal" is a lot more ambiguous. He did not ask her to be his wife like she was hoping, only to become his knight. It could be interpreted as him just being shy. Or it could be interpreted as an awkward rejection. Based on Ingrid's sad expression, it did seem like she interpreted his response as him letting her down gently.

Felix: So… He's finally shown his true face. The same Dimitri I've seen once before—a beast who loves spilling blood. Ingrid: You're wrong! I'm sure of it. There has to be an explanation…

Ingrid probably did the same to Dimitri as she did to Glenn. She was holding onto an idealistic childhood fantasy and could only see him as he was when they were kids, even though he had changed. She was in complete denial of his boar side. Dimitri was willing to throw away his childhood friends' lives at Gronder Field, including hers. He did turn his life around thanks to Byleth, but it wasn't surprising to me that he didn't feel comfortable accepting her marriage proposal.

Dimitri: If you're willing, would you like to go together? Of course, if you still feel hesitant, I won't force you… Ingrid: …No! Please, let me accompany you. It's embarrassing, but I probably would have hesitated to go alone. But with you… I feel like I can take a step forward without fear. Dimitri: I see. Alright, let's not waste any time. Allow me to treat you today, Ingrid.

In Hopes, Dimitri was able to help Ingrid face the reality of Glenn's death sooner and move forward. We even learn that she wanted to go to the castle to support him after the Tragedy of Duscur, but her father wouldn't let her. Dimitri always did want a girlfriend and he actually seemed very interested in Ingrid in Hopes. She gladly accepted when he offered to treat her to a meal.

Sylvain: Alright, then. Let me help you out… let's have a meal. My treat, miss. Ingrid: Wait a minute. Are you trying to flirt with me? I thought you'd matured. Sylvain: Oh, come on… I'm just trying to be thoughtful. Don't turn down a kind gesture, or you'll regret it. Ingrid: …I suppose you're right. Thank you for your consideration, Sylvain.

It's worth noting that in their Hopes A-Support, Sylvain also offered to treat her to a meal. She was more than happy to eat on his coin, but only if it's not a date. While Sylvain is often viewed as the "canon" love interest for Ingrid, I didn't really see any evidence that her love for him was anything other than sisterly. She was so fed up with his sexism that she took her annoyance with him out on Claude.

They made the Ingrid/Sylvain A+ ambiguous enough for you to view Sylvain as her love interest if you want. But they also left it open for Dimitri and there's more evidence that he was the one Ingrid had romantic feelings for, even if she never thought marrying the king was possible. I think that in the Hopes timeline, they probably would have ended up together. But in Houses, Dimitri was just too different.

Ingrid: As you said, situations change whether we like it or not… Nobody can stay the same. Of course, neither you nor I are exceptions… It's just that, I feel a little lonely because of it.

In VW, Dimitri is assumed to be dead. However, a recruited Ingrid still runs away from home in order to become a knight. So, her childhood dream was not solely related to her feelings for Dimitri. She wanted to go back to the past.

Ingrid: My friends and I used to explore the countryside together when we were young. I dearly miss those days.

Ingrid was a tomboy who loved playing outside, getting dirty, and going on adventures. In Hopes, her central conflict was not just about marriage but also about the fact that she was inevitably going to lead House Galatea. She hated desk work and was dreading the changes that would inevitably come along with adulthood and becoming a count, doing mountains of paperwork.

Ingrid: Knights, I suppose. I do what I can to live like one. And I hope to die like one too…when the time comes.

If Shez takes Ingrid out on an expedition and asks her what she likes, her response is quite disturbing. Even though she had given up on her dream, she said that she was still planning to die like a knight, implying that she was hoping to die during the war. And in SB, she dies like a true knight, just as she hoped.

Dimitri: At the Tragedy of Duscur, I saw countless corpses. Of course, I saw his too…Glenn's. Ingrid, I doubt you would have been able to see him. They were unable to bring his body back, after all. He must have died an agonizing death, full of pain and regret. That is what I saw in his face. Ingrid: … Dimitri: In that wasteland, there were no beautiful, proud deaths that could have been written about in heroic tales. Not one. I do not want you to die a death like that. Not even for the sake of loyalty or duty.

Glenn was Dimitri's best friend and even he died with a heavy heart. But Ingrid actually was content to die protecting Dimitri. And I'm sure her romantic feelings for her king played a role. Symbolically, she dies at the Silver Maiden (named after a pure maiden that is hard to penetrate). But I cannot help but suspect that her romanticization of a knight's death was also influenced by the fact that she was not looking forward to her future as a tradwife and Count Galatea.

Gilbert: Once you don the armor, raise your shield, and level your lance… Why? What is it you wish to protect? Ashe: Protect? I, um… Well, whatever needs protecting, right? Gilbert: You must know exactly what you protect before you become a knight.

Like Ingrid, it was Ashe's dream to become a knight. He wanted to be like his adoptive father Lonato, who he thought was the very model of chivalry. And his character arc was about how to come to terms with Lonato's death.

Ashe: I don't think that friend who protected you threw his life away because he was a knight. He just wanted to save his best friend. Dimitri: Even if it meant destroying futures that might have come to pass had he but lived? Ashe: Look, I don't know if what he did was right. So if you're asking me not to throw my life away, I promise that I won't. But I don't think it's wrong to fight to the end for someone that you love.

Ashe gets some pretty interesting development in Hopes. He becomes a knight to House Blaiddyd, just like in his AM paired ending with Ingrid (it's actually the only ending where he becomes a royal knight). He has a rather naive and rosy view of chivalry, while Dimitri has a more cynical view. Ashe agrees with him, but he does respect the idea of fighting to the end for someone he loves.

Ashe: I'm glad Lonato made it out safely, but… But we killed Ingrid. I can't ever go back, can I? There's no place left for me in Faerghus. Whatever part of me that was a knight is dead.

And he clearly needs that kind of personal motivation. Outside of AG, Ashe is one of the only Lions who has the option to defect from Faerghus. In SB, he wanted to protect Lonato. But his primary motivation in GW was to save his own life. Becoming a knight was one thing, but it turns out living up the ideal was a lot harder. Ingrid is the one who takes his betrayal the most personally. And when she is killed, the part of Ashe that was a knight dies along with her.

Gilbert: Lord Lonato took up his sword for his son. Even if that meant turning his back on the goddess… As a father, I cannot condemn Lord Lonato for raising an army. Yet, perhaps he too lost sight of what should be protected. Just as I did. Ashe: I don't understand what you mean. What should Lonato have protected? Gilbert: You, Ashe. Because you are also his son. Ashe: You're right… I think I know what I need to protect now.

Ingrid didn't just want to follow orders. She wanted to protect those she loved. And Gilbert told Ashe that to he needed to know exactly what he was protecting when he became a knight. He needed something personal; the way Gilbert had his family. Ashe wanted Lonato to live on through him.

Ashe: Um, anyway, I just… wanted you to smile. Ingrid: …Thank you, Ashe. You're encouraging me. Certainly, living as a knight may not be an easy path. .…We may be forced to live while bearing great pain and regret. But… I want to continue pursuing that dream. Talking with you makes me feel that way. Besides, giving up easily isn't like me at all.

And that's what A-Support with Ingrid was about. Lonato changed Ashe's life with a book. And Ingrid was encouraged to carry on her dream and Glenn's legacy thanks to the book Ashe gifted her. I also think he'd be able to help her move on from Dimitri, too. That's why I think these two characters complement each other's character arcs the best and are indispensable to each other as knights.

Ingrid & Ashe After the war, with a new king ascending the throne of Faerghus, Ingrid left House Galatea and joined the royal capital, Fhirdiad, to serve the royal family as a knight. Likewise, Ashe departed from his homeland of Gaspard and chose the path to become a knight of the royal family. Devoted to the future of the Kingdom, they took on any duty to protect the king. Eventually, they were praised as the "Twin Pillars of Knights" and left their mark in many tales of chivalry. In some stories, they are depicted as a loving couple. While the truth remains unknown, it is certain that they fought together until the end of their lives and were each other's inseparable companions.

In Ingrid's ending with Ashe, she lives out her childhood dream. She and Ashe even get a cool nickname similar to the Ferdibert ending. Ashe is known for his boundless courage and devotion. He is the picture-perfect knight from the story books, completely different from the cowardice he displayed in Hopes.

While the Japanese version does not mention marriage, it is implied that Ingrid and Ashe spent their loves together as lovers. Still, it is left up to interpretation. Outside AM, they explicitly fall in love and get married, so I have no reason to believe they weren't lovers in AM as well. But the point is that Ingrid went down in history for her own accomplishments, not just as someone's wife.

[therobertfrasergang]

Philip Townsend on Robert Fraser

From 2Stoned, by Andrew Loog Oldham (2003):

Philip Townsend was a photographer in the 1960s, taking the first official photographs of The Rolling Stones, thanks to his friendship with Andrew Loog Oldham. In Oldham's book he talks about Robert Fraser:

Mick, Brian and, to a lesser extent, Keith could now achieve their need to mix with the nobs. Up to now old money had kept themselves to themselves, but now they were bored and needed entertaining and the new rock stars could provide all they needed — and the drugs as well. The main go-between was a rich, stupid, gay and untalented twit called Robert Fraser. He was an art and drug dealer with an address book full of the same kind of people as him. He soon became the Beatles’ and the Stones’ best friend. While he was the son of a self-made banker he had wormed his way into the old money crowd.

The first time I met Robert was in Ireland when he was chaperoning Mick, Keith, Marianne Faithfull and Anita Pallenberg at Desmond Guinness’s superb Georgian castle, Leixlip, near Dublin. Mick and Marianne were lording around the grounds like the old money Mick was not. It was amazing how quickly he laundered himself from a terraced house in Dartford to a very large castle in Ireland. It had taken the Guinnesses a hundred and fifty years to achieve the same transformation. It took Mick fifteen months.

One wonders if the feeling was mutual.

[nowis-scales]

CF Leftovers #2

(I decided I would share some of the ones that got missed before to start out! I’ll share the emblem legend below, and remember to filter #Fódlan Fault Finding and #Shut up about Del as needed!

Emblems:

❃ = Positive, not a problem.

❋ = It is entirely neutral.

✾ = It’s a bit negative, but it’s told in a joking way.

✿ = It is negative and critical.)

✿ You keep calling her fake. You’re always saying mean things about her followers. Marianne comes away thinking that she’s weak for believing in the goddess on your route. You let people practice the faith only under your supervision.

Maybe you don’t think you’ve done that, but you’re also not all that emotionally intelligent, nor are you prone to thinking about people who aren’t your immediate friends or yourself. You might think you’re even being charitable with some of your actions, considering how evil you think the Church is, but it’s clear to me that there are some toxic elements to your own mindset as well… so yes, you have made an enemy of both. ✿

❃ Lol yeah I was kind of just floating down a river, you know how it is. Sorry about that ❃

❃ ’Cause fuck Hubert, am I right?

Like I get it, I know he’s kind of intense, but you don’t have an emotional connection with the guy at all? We need to get you some friends, girl. Start up a book club or somethin’. We’ll read anything but the Church of Seiros’s books. And maybe Loog and the Maiden of Wind. ❃

✾ EdeIgard, sweetpea, I am loving the hug but I am not loving the casual racism ✾

✾ Wait, have we made no progress the entire time I was gone? I know I’m your only support system Edie, but jeez! ✾

✾ Oh, so we really have made no progress while I was gone because you were sad. Which I am both touched and annoyed by, because on the one hand awww they care about me… and I think you know why I’m annoyed on the other hand lol (hint: it’s the player pandering). ✾

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

How do the BL students cope with missing their s/o? (like they're on a mission or something and won't be back for a long time) Bonus points for including how they react to seeing them again lol. Congrats on the big 100 btw

[Thank you! This is a little late but I was amazed to see so many people reading these posts.I’m pretty proud of this one.I wrote this as a ‘first time they’re apart’ kind of scenario. Hope it is to your liking! :3]

Dimitri: 

Karma really does bite, and boy does it do so hard

More often than not it is Dimitri leaving you behind for missions. Being the leader of the Lions meant that he was stationed at almost every important battle. Sometimes you’d join, and others the professor would decide to have someone else take up arms. No biggie, you know? He never complained since it guaranteed your safety.  

He didn’t even think of the possibility of a role reversal. One where you’d be sent out while he’s left behind. Up until now he was always by your side, but Manuela knew his limits better than anyone. She insisted he take the month off to rest. 

Once again, no biggie. He’d much rather be productive but with some convincing he easily gave in. Everyone departed for the monthly mission and he decided to invest some of the extra time on his hands into an evening with you 

He was about to search for you, but then memory did it’s job.

“Ah, that’s right. They departed with their battalion this morning...”

Dimitri wasn’t used to the silence of an empty Monestary. Was it always this hollow when the army was deployed? There were some people, yes. However most areas appeared almost lifeless. 

It brought up some unpleasant memories to say the least. Ones of a dusk castle, strangers on every corner, empty dinner tables, and cold nights spent staring up from his balcony. 

The time he spends without Dedue glued to his side is full of reflection. Once he’s trained, eaten, studied up, etc. He’ll stroll around the monastery and think of what his life has become 

How fragile the peace is. How much longer will it last?  

He wanted to talk with someone. The silence was deafening and he wished for a distraction before the voices made their appearance. 

They did.

He wished for you to come home. Despite the voices screaming that he had no right to long for your comfort, the desire still remained.  

 Was it the same for you when he’d depart? This...lonely? 

He hoped not. 

Since when had Dimitri become assimilated to the daily nonsense that was his life? 

Dedue had caught on to his highness’ feelings instantly. Dimitri was more reminiscent than usual, and often his walks would take him to your room. He wouldn’t enter, just look at the door as if expecting it to open. He wasn’t one to talk of the past as it made him uncomfortable, but sometimes Dedue would catch him smiling at nothing. It was a welcome change to have happy memories. 

When you come home it’s as if Dimitri has a new aura. Well, maybe not entirely but he has a more solemn look in his eyes when they meet yours. He spends the first day being caught up on politics with the Professor and Seteth, but for many nights beyond the return he seeks your company 

He wants to hear your voice. The one he craved for when the silence became intolerable 

“I’ve returned my beloved, would you care to tell that story from the other night again? I know it has only been one day but I would love to hear it.” 

Dedue: 

Time alone with you was already a rarity, so your complete absence didn’t dieter him as much as one would think. Dedue’s schedule rarely has a slot for free-time, and so the days pass on like seconds 

As long as there is no specific reason to worry then he refrains from doing so. Dedue genuinely believes in your strength and capabilities so he won’t needlessly fret over nothing. He has his own duties to attend to just as you do. 

However, this doesn’t mean he feels nothing on the matter. Others can gossip about him all they want but his nationality doesn’t define his personality. Not that he cares, since his stone exterior hides signs of weakness 

Let’s get this straight: he does miss you. While not in surplus, your time together is precious to him. He notices how your seat is empty during lessons and meetings. He unconsciously checks the training hall’s door during his regime, impatiently waiting for you to pop in and say your daily ‘hello’. He’s painfully aware of the extra pair of gardening gloves in his tool pail. Dedue knows that you are gone and it has an impact. 

He just ignores it. Dedue knows that when duty calls it must come before personal issues. Even if there is no contact between you two, he would rather no letters than one relaying distress 

If his highness asks about his feelings Dedue’s replies are short and curt. He does not wish for any worry or pity. 

One small sign that Dedue is off-put is that he becomes forgetful. It’s something only those who know him well can pick up on. For example: he won’t bring any writing utensils to a meeting. To a stranger this is a common mishap that happens to everyone. Only people who know Dedue well will see that someone as responsible as him wouldn’t forget something so minute 

Another is the short sighs he lets out. Nothing drawn out or dramatic, just quick puffs of air through the nose- kind of like a huff. They’re very difficult to catch and are a habit when he feels impatient or restless 

The day you come home isn’t a large extravaganza. Prince Dimitri accompanies him to greet the returning troops, but it doesn’t take a wise man to see that he mainly came for moral support. You were his friend as well, and he also wanted to see Dedue happy. 

When you come into sight Dedue approaches as if it’s a normal day. Your appearance is a bit too worn-down for his liking, and he says so. He asks if the journey went well, and whether it did or not he gives a minuscule smile 

If you return it he’ll pat your head. A welcome home, if you will 

“Come. Let us speak of the time we were apart. I would like to hear of your travels” 

Felix:

Simple solution. Whenever Felix feels as if he’s missing your presence he’ll go find you. 

Oh wait 

He can’t lmao 

It doesn’t hit him how big your role is in his life until you’re forced to be apart. All it took was a few days for Felix to feel like something was missing

At first he’s in denial. What is he, a child? A grown man doesn’t need someone to lean on, or keep him company, or check on him...or to give him encouragement......make him laugh....listen to his problems............okay. Maybe he does. 

At the beginning he seems put together but gradually as the days go on Felix becomes socially intolerant. The only person he wants to talk with is you, and you’re not there. Anyone else can buzz off or they’re getting snapped at

No one says anything either. Sometimes you can’t when the only solution is so far away 

Felix works extra hard when you’re gone. No one’s there to force much needed breaks onto him. From morning till dusk he’ll train and only stop for meals.

It’s his distraction. Every time that familiar pang shows up the training dummy gets another slice 

What’s happened to him? He was never so dependent on another person. Yeah, he has people that he cares about but their presence was never a necessity in his life 

The pain only intensifies as he thinks of what you’re doing, the dangers you’re facing, other (men/women) making you smile-

Oh....Oh no. Dear god he’s in love que the dummy’s head being sliced off

He’s waiting in your room on the day you get back. You’ll walk in to see him reading at your desk, only for the book to snap shut when you open the door 

A bit roughly he’ll pull you in for a hug. Not too tight, if you wanted to escape it you could

“Look. I’ll only say this once so you better listen...don’t leave for that long ever again. If you have to then I’m going with. No arguments”        

Ashe:

He’s fine. It’s okay. Ten days in and life goes on, you know? Today he played with some of the stray cats in the monastery like he normally would. The only off part was that he forgot to bring fish treats, normally you’d do that. 

Then he ordered some sweet buns for dessert after dinner; it was his usual order on your rare dates. Those days you’d snatch one but this time they were all his

He had them in the garden with some mint tea and watched the sun set. The last time he did that you decided to braid his hair while he told bad puns about his patchy facial hair fiasco. This time he viewed in tranquil silence 

Later in the evening he practiced archery to unwind. Lately Caspar agreed to be his training partner with you gone. He’d collect the arrows shot and help reposition the targets. You would normally do the same and in turn Ashe would wake up extra early to help you in the morning. 

At night he curled up in bed with “Loog and the Maiden of Wind,” picking up from where he left off. It was easy since you had given him a copy with a built-in cloth bookmark for his birthday. He loves it to pieces. 

Please come home When his eyes began to feel heavy he tucked it under his pillow for the day. 

Under the covers he shifted to get comfortable, and just like every night he ended up cuddling one of his pillows 

How much longer 

He closed his eyes 

....

..........

What was taking so long? The professor never mentioned that the journey would take weeks? There haven’t been letters either...

Where are you? What are you doing? Do you miss him? Are you eating properly? Are you sleeping right? He should have asked Seteth to let him accompany you. Are you on your way home? Should he go ask? No, it’s late. Asking now would be a bother-

 He misses you so much. No amount of time spent absorbing himself in different hobbies makes the discomfort in his chest go away. Everything reminds him of you. 

When you come home he’s front and center at the gate. The professor had taken pity on the boy (courtesy of Flayn’s plea) and arranged his schedule to be free all day. He spent it chatting with gatekeeper until troops appeared in the distance 

The moment you’re in sight he’s skipping down the stairs and greets you with the warmest embrace. The second you pull back he’s peppering kisses on your cheeks. 

“You’re back! I’ve missed you so much I can’t even begin to explain. Let’s go eat dinner and you can tell me all about the trip” 

Sylvain:

Is it weird that with you gone Sylvain actually begins to be a productive human being?

He spends the newfound spare time at the stables with the horses, or helping with chores around the monastery. Very rarely is he found goofing off 

Weird. Most would expect him to let loose considering how you have him on a ‘ball and chain,’ as he puts it 

So???? How come he chooses now to be responsible. 

Simple. He only acts rebellious to get a rise out of you

Just kidding lol. Only partially

While he does get a free show out of your nagging, it isn’t the reason he behaves like that. Neither why he’s suddenly ‘turned over a new leaf’

Sylvain highly respects you. Not only do you work hard but you’re also one of the most genuine people he knows. He’ll never say it to your face but before he loved you Sylvain looked to you as a role model. He never could have imagined that someone with such an authentic set of emotions would become his partner 

He also puts you through hell with all the trouble he gets in. Anyone else would have ended the relationship by now with so many FALSE rumors of adultery on his end. Yet you never gave up on him.  

In short, you’ve stood by him through thick and thin. From daily mess ups to the more deeper problems. You’ve been a major pillar that he leans on.

So that’s what he’s going to be for you. While you’re away he’s going to pick up the slack and make sure there’re no messes waiting for you to come home to 

Just him and maybe a few snide jokes. You know, a couple of dramatic whines about all the trouble he went to in making sure your room stayed clean 

Sometimes it gets difficult to turn down the invites from his peers, but he holds strong. The change is so drastic that Byleth even jokes about sending you away more often. 

He takes it with a grain of salt. They’d never exploit their students like that and he knows it 

When you arrive home he’s waiting patiently in your room. In one arm there’s a blanket and in the other a feather duster c’mon he has to make this believable

“Well there’s the (man/woman) of the hour. Do you realize the horrors that I’ve endured these past weeks? I cleaned this room EVERY DAY. You owe me big time!”  

Sylvain demands that for all the worry, strife, and hard labor you put him through; he deserves an afternoon nap with his partner. Will you let him slack off?

Annette: 

Busy, busy, busy!!!

She has so many chores to get done, books to read, people to talk to, and songs to sing 

She hated to say goodbye, but eventually you’ll come home. This isn’t like before. You’re not like him. 

Annette trusts you

She loves you 

While you’re gone she’ll think of all the things you can do together when you get back. What’s a better way to use the time, right? 

She 100% plans to blackmail you into treating her for lunch. How could you leave her behind to watch over everyone by herself? So cruel...

There are mild worries that fill her heart. Thoughts on your health for one. Whether you’re skilled in faith or not it doesn’t matter to her. 

She kind of wishes that the professor scheduled her to fight as well. However, things were better this way.

Annette will make sure you have somewhere wonderful to return to 

She even writes a small ‘welcome home’ jingle! Anything to bring out your smile 

People will occasionally ask how she’s holding up. After all, if Annette doesn’t worry about herself then of course others will do it for her. 

And yeah. Sometimes it does get rough. She’s human and naturally her partner means the world to her. Who the hell would be okay with sending their loved one away? 

It’s just that if she isn’t optimistic than who will be. Who’s going to give you encouragement when you need it most? Isn’t that what being a couple is about? To have faith and believe in each other? 

That’s why she’s okay. She’ll sing those fear demons away and take comfort in knowing you’ll come home with everyone else

And when you do she’s there with a few of your favorite flowers. She’ll congratulate you on a job well done whether the battle was a win or lose, and literally force you into her dorm to talk the hours away.

“Welcome home! I had plenty of time on my hands while you were away so I wrote a small song...i-if it’s okay then can I sing it for you? I promise it’s not about tasty cakes this time haha!” 

Mercedes:

The daily church hymn lifts her spirits. Mercedes’ devout faith is what supports her during moments of weakness 

You’ve probably guessed this, but every day you’re in her prayers. 

Not that you weren’t before, but now she spends a little more time mulling over possibilities of danger. Some extra blessings couldn’t hurt either 

She does find her thoughts trailing over to you often as well. Not anything negative but instead the happier memories. Saying goodbye was a rough blow when realization hit that your return date wasn’t definite 

Alas, the goddess will protect you. Mercedes steels herself to be patient and invest her energy into more productive things 

Mercedes is sort of like the big sister of all her friends. The doting type. Without you around she has all this pent up affection, and the lions get the blunt end of it

They’re an outlet that she uses to distract herself from not having you around. Not that they necessarily mind it (maybe Felix but he’ll get over it)

The time she’d spend with you is used to bake for the monastery children, or help with chores. She uses it wisely and also works on some of her own hobbies. 

You may or may not find some well-stitched embroidery on your socks. She goes all out and even offers to help mend Dimitri’s battle-worn cape. That thing needed a literal miracle to return to it’s former glory 

Life isn’t much different aside from your lack of presence. With each day she finds herself looking forward to your return, and occasionally she’ll inquire with the professor about it. Mercedes is known for her patience, and it truly is a virtue in many cases. Definitely in this one. 

When note of your future return arrives she can’t help but smile. If allowed she’ll ask to read the letter of notification herself and will do so with incredible focus. She’ll clutch one hand to her chest in relief before giving it back and leaving to return to her duties 

and so it goes until your return. She might not be able to come meet you at the gate, but at first sighting she’ll engulf you in an embrace. 

After a once-over for any injuries, she’ll insist that you have tea together. Hell, Mercedes would be happy if you two could just chat together on the nearest bench. There’s so much to talk of and now you two have all the time in the world 

“It’s so nice to see you again! Oh my...it feels like forever since I have seen you smile. I almost forgot how contagious is is haha” 

Ingrid: 

If it was up to Ingrid than she would be positioned right at your side. You two work well as a duo both on and off of the field. The army would benefit from your skills being magnified as a team 

She also wouldn’t have to deal with this ungodly sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. Don’t misunderstand- Ingrid isn’t the protective type. She trusts in your capabilities both as a fighter and person. It’s only that being away for so long is a rarity, and she needs time to adjust. 

She’d just have to trust in the other people stationed at your side to do what she can’t  

If she knows any of them personally then Ingrid 100% approaches to ask that they watch your back 

That takes care of any worry, but not of the crack in her daily life 

Ingrid has much on her shoulders. Her family, Fargeus’ future, her friends, what food’s being served in the dining hall, if it tastes good or not, the church, the ‘flame emperor’, and you of course.

She’s also the type of person who likes uniformity: a schedule. You’re a part of that and being so far disrupts it. She’s afraid that her personal emotions will tap into her ability to fulfill her duties  

Everyone else assures her otherwise. Ingrid is known for always giving 110% so a while of just 100% is no big deal. She is allowed to be human 

She’s allowed to miss you. Her friends assure her of it 

She’s allowed to worry. There’s no need to sear shut her fears. After losing Glenn...well, it’s understandable. 

She’s allowed to ask for news updates. The professor has encouraged this. 

She’s allowed to go in your room if she needs alone time. You said so before leaving. 

However, Ingrid doesn’t allow herself those comforts until days after your departure. When you said goodbye it unsettled her stomach in more ways than one. It took some time to sort through her emotions while still maintaining her responsibilities

It took everything for Ingrid to move on from the past, and this experience set in a sense of gratitude for all that she’s been given. It also was an opportunity for her to reminisce over what she has lost, and still has to do. 

Needless to say, when you return Ingrid has gained a newfound confidence and comfort in not having a set schedule for life. Everything has always felt as if it needed to be rushed, but meeting you wasn’t something she had planned nor sped into. Spending some time to focus on her own personal goals aside from the ones preset for her before birth aided in Ingrid coming to terms with that. 

“Hello. It’s been so long that I hardly recognize you! What? It’s a joke!...Yes, I know how to tell jokes- hold on this is supposed to be a heartfelt reunion so don’t ruin it!” 

[randomnameless]

One of my main hcs is that Rhea is the only Nabatean we know who's directly Sothis' child, and there were a lot more of them who were born like Cethleann (full lizard). But because of their long life and social structure, pretty much everyone knows one another and is at least on friendly terms.

Turtle, Birdie and Cichol may be siblings but it doesn't really matter cuz Cethleann calls every nabatean who is close to her father's age uncle/auntie :')

The birth order goes: Cichol > Indech > Macuil > Pan > Rhea > Cethleann

General Pan stuff:

He's the Metal Dragon. His crest ability allows him to control metallic objects, kinda like telekinesis but only for metals. This is a lot more powerful in his dragon form, where he can liquidify his metallic scales and make pretty much anything he wants. His title is Glimmering Armour cuz he's very sturdy and shiny.

The Fire Dragon is his sister! But she's Luín now RIP. It was getting hit by her that made him force-transform. He knows a lot of fire magic because she's awesome.

Out of the surviving ones he's closest to Rhea cuz they were good friends pre-zanado. He's the one who taught her swordsmanship cuz he's considered one of the best. He also got to know Indech better during WoH cuz they're both holed up together lol. He visits the pond often to talk and hang out.

He and Macuil have a weird rivalry type relationship. They will badmouthing each other at every opportunity and will get into fights sometimes. Macuil is better at magic and Pan is better at physical/weapons arts. Pan/Macuil rivals to lovers 2000+ years slow burn

He didn't have a high opinion of Willhelm because he was Going Though It and willy's kinda stupid. He knew smth was going on with Seiros and Willy but he really didn't want to think about it so all he ever really said was 'your taste in men is horrible'.

The damaged crest stone caused the magic flow in his body to become unstable, that's why he force-transformed like that. In his travels after WoH he pretty much had to relearn magic and was able to get everything back under control so he's better now! But the damage can't be fully undone so now he can't go into regenerative sleep and his normal self-healing has gone down. He can still transform normally but has to stay in one form for at least a few days before turning back, otherwise he might damage his body/crest stone even more.

To answer your questions:

In his travels he was able to see how Adrestia kept falling into depravity and became disillusioned with humanity. By the time of the rebellion he doesn't have a sliver of hope in the nobles or their emperor.

He hadn't met Rhea since he left after the war. He had no clue where Cichol and Cethleann are. He doesn't want to involve other nabateans anyway because he fears for their safety. But he will put himself in danger because self-worth issues and he believes he can't be relic'd with the damaged crest stone. Imagine Rhea's surprise when she arrives at Charon for the peace treaty and sees who Faerghus' strategist is.

He liked humans and thought they were okay but kinda weird pre-zanado. That later changed to 'I may not like humanity much now but that doesn't mean I'm gonna punish children for the sins of their parents.' Fighting with Loog and Faerghus gang brought him hope. They showed him that people aren't so bad after all! But having a child with a human is a big no-no in his books.

He dotes on Cethleann and later Cyril a lot! He considers himself 'the cool uncle', doing stuff like teaching them swear words, making them treats, keeping an eye on them without being overbearing, etc. They think he's very cool.

Yes, he dyed his hair, and got very annoyed with others when they didn't do it properly.

- Lizard Pan anon

Ooh!

my dumb comments under the cut!

The birth order goes: Cichol > Indech > Macuil > Pan > Rhea > Cethleann

Boomer Seteth lol "Nabateans those days with their hair dye and spins and humans and whatnot"

The Fire Dragon is his sister! But she's Luín now RIP. It was getting hit by her that made him force-transform

:(

I had a similar HC, that being "hit" by a Relic does weird shenanigans to a Nabatean, and if their crests are similar/compatible it hijacks their own magic, sometimes messing up with their transformations.

Out of the surviving ones he's closest to Rhea cuz they were good friends pre-zanado. He's the one who taught her swordsmanship cuz he's considered one of the best.

Is he the one who taught her how to spin with a sword? But I always loved the idea of Seiros the Warrior having been taught stuff by her brothers, magic comes from Macuil, brawling from Indech... Cichol tried to teach her how to use a spear, but she only went to D rank because he was boring, or something.

Or worse, Rhea, as Seiros the Warrior, tells Pan "look brother, I refine your technique, now I spin in midair, and this move is very cool and deadly!"

He also got to know Indech better during WoH cuz they're both holed up together lol. He visits the pond often to talk and hang out

"Look at those humans. They're too loud, and they do stupid things."

"I prefer to run away from Cichol, he started to have a rant about proper conduct when two humans started to hold hands. I couldn't stand it."

"Do we talk about Macuil?" "No."

He and Macuil have a weird rivalry type relationship. They will badmouthing each other at every opportunity and will get into fights sometimes.

Funny how we all hc Macuil as the idiot who will get into fights, but he is also the one who insults people freely (in the lolcalisation he disses on Sothis, but in the jp version, he disses on Seteth instead lol). "who needs stupid human weapons when one can use magic??" "maybe you're just jealous because you are weaker than a human!"

He didn't have a high opinion of Willhelm because he was Going Though It and willy's kinda stupid. He knew smth was going on with Seiros and Willy but he really didn't want to think about it so all he ever really said was 'your taste in men is horrible'.

"Pan, look, Willy swallowed a noodle through his nose, isn't he awesome?"

"Do you really want an answer?"

The damaged crest stone caused the magic flow in his body to become unstable, that's why he force-transformed like that. In his travels after WoH he pretty much had to relearn magic and was able to get everything back under control so he's better now! But the damage can't be fully undone so now he can't go into regenerative sleep and his normal self-healing has gone down

Oh, I had a kind of similar HC for Cichol - the trauma after losing his wife and Cethleann was so heavy and he spent 1k years angsting about Cethleann that his body became unstable, and that's why he cannot transform anymore - theoretically, he can since he managed to relearn magic (even if he sucks at it compared to his fam) - but the trauma from the WoH nerfs him unconsciously (instead of "real" damage like your Pan) and he cannot go in "lizard sleep mode" or heal as fast as a Nabatean should.

(macuil calls him a cripple and insults him because he's an ass)

btw, what's your hc about Seteth losing his powers and ability to transform?

became disillusioned with humanity. By the time of the rebellion he doesn't have a sliver of hope in the nobles or their emperor.

:(

So it's more of a middle ground - he doesn't have hope in them but still doesn't want to kill the descendants of the Elites, hopefully some Faerghians (again? Or it's the first time in canon?) made him have faith in humans again!

Imagine Rhea's surprise when she arrives at Charon for the peace treaty and sees who Faerghus' strategist is.

"if you ever want to come to garreg Mach, there's a room for you"

And then Charon thought those words were meant for him, and didn't know what to say - but passed on those words to his descendants, and that's why Cassandra knew (besides of her other reasons for turning to Rhea in time of duress) that Garreg Mach would be a safe place to hide when the Kingdom called her a traitor lol

They showed him that people aren't so bad after all! But having a child with a human is a big no-no in his books!

"sister what have you done with your stupid human - sister?"

He dotes on Cethleann and later Cyril a lot! He considers himself 'the cool uncle', doing stuff like teaching them swear words, making them treats, keeping an eye on them without being overbearing, etc. They think he's very cool.

I Hcd Cyril as the one who tells Rhea Seteth is super cool and he wants to be like him later on, which makes her so confused, Cichol?? Cool?? Will Cethleann finally be able to join the Blue Lions for "training" if Uncle Pan looks after her? Will Cichol accept it? (as if they care about his opinion anyways!).

Also : Hair dye is a very srs business

[candlelight27]

Chapter 2: Reach For My Hand

Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans… (COLLEGE AU)

Series: Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

Warnings: Objetification (?), anxiety attack, curse words

Pairings: Sylvain Jose Gautier x Female Reader

Word Count: 4562

AO3: Reach For My Hand

A/N:  Sorry it took too long. My writing process is unpredictable. Besides, it was a boring chapter at first and I think I managed to make it interesting? Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!  If you have suggestions, requests, theories or whatever leave a comment of come talk to me on tumblr - same username.

Your first week of university had passed all at once. Time flew between jotting down notes, going back and forth, meeting all your new teachers and, overall, trying to survive. Thankfully, Lysithea had shared all her notes with you, so you weren’t that lost – since Claude was keen on gossiping with you in the middle of lessons…

…And since Sylvain proved himself to be a huge distraction. And an active one, in fact.

The ominous day Byleth paired you with him, Sylvain had approached you after class. Hands in his pockets, his chest a little puffed and a glamorous grin on his face, he had the perfect pose to be on the cover of a teenage magazine. And with his casual tone, he nonchalantly asked you for your number..  

“We better stay in touch to finish the project”, he added. Your heart skipped a beat – or two or three – and you nodded. You hoped that excitement would go unnoticed. There was the slightest shyness in his voice, but you discarded the thought. It was absurd to consider you’d awaken even the smallest amount of insecurity in him, regarding the fact that he was the embodiment of confidence.

“Sure”, you smiled and grabbed a pen. Sylvain stopped you muttering a ‘wait’ and took out his phone. He opened a tab for a new contact.

“Here, write your number.” You took it and started writing. Then, it hit you that Sylvain actually knew how you were called. He had edited the blank space, where you saw all the letters that spelt your name standing triumphantly. He even had added a heart emoji next to it. So, even if he had never acknowledged your existence, he was aware of it.  

“Write me whenever you feel like it,” he said with a wink. Your name rolling out of his lips was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

As he went away and followed Mercedes out of the classroom, Claude rose his eyebrows.

“Well, that went better than expected. Our plan is running smoothly,” he hit you with his elbow.

“Your plan, Claude. I never agreed to it,” you sighed, while he just chuckled and let it be.

But that wasn’t the end of the phone matter. Not at all.

The next day you met your new teacher, Catherine. She was interesting, and she made her lessons about the Evolution of Warfare quite enjoyable – which was itself a great deed, in your opinion. However, there was a downside, and it was that the blonde woman talked your ears off with her millions of tales that weren’t that interesting and definitely not exam material.

It was early and you were barely awake when you felt the light vibration of a message on your mobile phone. Who could be at that hour? You looked next to you. Marianne was as still as a corpse, Claude was probably asleep and Lysithea was fiercely taking notes, so it was not any of them trying to be discreet. Ingrid would never use her phone during a lesson, so she was ruled out too.

With caution, you unlocked the screen of your phone and placed it on your lap.

Unknown 09:45: Are you bored too?

Did Dorothea change her number again?

You 09:46: Who are you?

Unknown 09:46: Look right 😊

You did. And you came across Sylvain waving at you. You saved his number quicker than you’d like to admit.

You 09:48: Good morning, Sylvain

You 09:48: And yes, I’m bored to death

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a smile gracing Sylvain’s countenance, and you felt like a schoolgirl all over again.

Sylvain 09:49: Is Claude asleep? For real?

You 09:50: Most likely…

And that was the beginning of your academic doom.

It turned out that Sylvain was a compulsive text-writer. He wasn’t shy about sending you millions of messages at any time. And you, foolish as always, responded every last one of them. Against your will, as you typed on your phone, butterflies flied around your stomach.

The first days, he limited your interactions strictly to Catherine’s lessons and breaks. But as the week progressed, you found yourself going to sleep a little later just to share a few more words with the infamous flirter.

You two didn’t have meaningful conversations at all. You talked about high school, books, films, you shared jokes and silly occurrences… Yet it made you feel that an already existing connection tying you with Sylvain was awakening. It was absurd, to think there was a bond that had been formed before between both of you, but you couldn’t cast aside that sensation. Like a distant memory of a dream you once had. Like the primal needs our bodies feel. You felt there was something that linked you with him, and it was ancient and significant.

When Claude discovered what you and Sylvain were up, he was delighted.

“Don’t you realize that’s just what we needed for our plan?”, he opened his eyes and leaned in closer, so your classmates wouldn’t hear him.

“Again, your plan, Claude”, you shook your head. “And you seem to be making it up as it goes.”

“Well, that’s my charm, darling,” he laughed, and went on playing with his phone. You threw him your best deadpan look.

With so many distractions, the weekend arrived in the blink of an eye. It was rather cloudy when you woke up, and late, because it was Saturday and you didn’t have any obligation. You rolled in bed, throwing away your blanket and yawning.

Then, you heard a thud next to you. It was your phone. You remembered you had been talking with Sylvain when you fell asleep. You deliberated if maybe it wasn’t better to ignore him for a day. You were starting to get your hopes up, and you wanted to avoid another disappointment. But as if your hands moved on their own, you opened the conversation to see what you had missed.

Sylvain 01:13: What do you mean you HAVEN’T seen Loog and the Maiden of Wind???

You 01:15: ??

You 01:15: What’s wrong?

Sylvain 01:17: It’s Ingrid’s favourite film!

Sylvain 01:18: More like, she loved complaining about how they got all the scenes from the book wrong

Sylvain 01:18: Still she made me watch it like 1819341973 times

You 01:19: She wanted me to watch it

You 01:20: I just happen to have really good excuses 😉

Sylvain 01:25: Well you are going to watch it with me

You 01:26: Why would I?

Sylvain 01:27: It’s called solidarity

You 01:27: I don’t have that

(Unread) Sylvain 01:31: ☹

(Unread) Sylvain 01:31: Please, suffer with me

(Unread) Sylvain 01:33: C’mon I promise I’ll be good, I won’t bite you

(Unread) Sylvain 01:33: Unless you ask me 😉😉😉

(Unread) Sylvain 01:35: So I’m going to believe that you’re asleep and are not in fact ignoring me

(Unread) Sylvain 01:34: Good night, princess <3

You sighed and got up. What were you getting yourself into? And what were you trying to achieve? ‘Don’t implicate yourself too much’, has said Claude, but you were already in too deep. But your friend probably knew as much and was plotting something entirely different.

Ignoring your best judgment, you started typing.

You 09:53: Good morning!

Goddess, you felt stupid.

“Good morning”, greeted Ingrid when you left your room. “I got some pastries for breakfast.”

“Nice.”

You sat next to her and started to munch on the first sweet piece you found. The television filled the room with a comforting background noise. You were half listening the weather and the news. Your phone suddenly beeped, indicating you had a new text message. You looked at the screen with discretion and unlocked it with an unbothered appearance, trusting Ingrid wouldn’t ask questions.

Sylvain 10:01: I unilaterally decided we’re watching the film today, princess

You couldn’t hide your expression, and Ingrid looked your way.

“Who are you texting?”, she tried to use a teasing tone. “I’ve never seen you so hooked on your phone. Is it Claude?”

There was no use in lying, so you’d answer thruthfully. You could even get some intel about Sylvain without revealing your game if you played your cards well.

“Oh, no. It’s Sylvain?” You feigned disinterest.

“Is he bothering you? I could scare him off,” she offered, with her eyebrows furrowed.

“What? Don’t do it.” A small and nervous laughter escaped your mouth at the idea.

“Don’t tell me he’s done it”, Ingrid said, and she rested her head on her hands, her attention focused on you.

“What has he done?”

“Charming you!”, she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ingrid, I was paired with him for some project. That’s all,” you assured her.

“Well, just don’t fall for him. He can be very disgusting sometimes. He’s a good friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend.” She hummed. “As far as I know, of course.”

“Don’t worry,” you smiled, appeasing, “I’ll be fine.”

“It’s weird, though. He never texts anyone on his own accord. He always says it’s a waste of time.”

“It’s for the project. No biggie,” you affirmed, yet you knew you’d have to keep in mind that fact.

“Ah, that must be it,” Ingrid shrugged. “He may be always chasing skirts, but he’s very diligent with academic matters.”

You 10:15: I have a better idea

You 10:16: Let’s go to the library and start Byleth’s project

You weren’t ready for watching a film with him. In the best-case scenario, you’d faint like Bernadetta on your high school days.

Sylvain 10:17: The library? In this era of technology?

You 10:17: Yes.

Sylvain 10:18: Okay, fine

Sylvain 10:19: You are right, old-fashioned university professors love their bibliographies filled with books :/

Sylvain 10:19: But you owe me one film

You 10:19: … we’ll see.

You 10:19: Let’s meet at the library at 6 p.m.

“I’m going to the library with Sylvain today,” you commented to Ingrid.

“Do you mind if I invite Ashe over?”

Well, you weren’t expecting that. You noted mentally to compare notes with Dorothea, because now you didn’t have any doubt that there was something going on between her and Ashe. Never ever had she invited a guy before that wasn’t Felix, Sylvain, or Dimitri.

“Oh, yeah, go ahead, I don’t mind,” you encouraged her.

“Cool!”

 You were getting ready, mulling over what you were going to wear. You didn’t want to try too hard, this wasn’t a date, but nevertheless you wanted to look good – despite the fact that if anyone ever asked you, you’d completely refuse that thought had crossed your mind. It was absurd, but denial helped you to keep going.  

As you struggled to decide, you heard Ingrid biding you goodbye and the door being closed. You supposed she was going to meet Ashe and bring him to your place. You grinned to yourself. Immediately after, your phone started ringing. It was Dorothea. She had a distinctive melody that she sang herself for you. What on earth could have made her call you? She was the queen of voice messages.

“Yes?”, you began.

“You better tell me what the fuck is happening!”, she yelled with her usual dramatic twist.

“What is happening?” You were quite confused and tried to go over all the things she could be referring to.

“Don’t play dumb. First, Ingrid is all starry-eyed when she talks about Ashe and now you have a date with Sylvain? Is the water in your apartment poisoned?” You wondered how she found out, but Dorothea had a sixth sense for love affairs.

“Well, Ingrid is the one with an actual date,” you pointed to divert her attention. “I’m just going to the library because-”

“Because a project? Why does it sound so familiar? Ah, yes, it’s what I told my parents when I was going to make out with a classmate in high school. And don’t distract me throwing Ingrid to the wolves.”

“What do you want of me?”, you exclaimed out of frustration.

“A confession!”

“Who are you? Seteth?” You could hear Dorothea’s sweet laugh at your joke.

“How could I be so stupid? Your crush has been Sylvain all these years!”, she was creating a fuss on the other side of the phone. “I’m not going to lie, I didn’t expect that, not in the least.”

“You are assuming way too much.”

“Shut up! I guess Sylvain is a whole reason himself to keep it a secret, but you should have told me.” Dorothea made a pause. “My poor baby suffering all those years in silence! Aunty Dorothea is here to comfort you!”

“Quit the joking. Now tell me what I should wear for my not-a-date”, you said indignantly.

“Oh, right. Do you recall the Red Canyon? You definitely should put on that thing you wore. It will catch his eye, but it doesn’t seem way too elaborated.”

“Thank you, Dorothea, you are a genius. Are you reading my mind?”

“Really? I can see right through you”, she giggled. “You haven’t changed. And I would you why you are so worried about your clothes when it’s not a date, but you’d just mutter any excuse and ignore me altogether.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Now, inform me of you not-a-date with Sylvain when you’re finished right away, okay?”, she finished with her motherly intonation.

“Fine, fine! Goodbye, I have to go now!” You saw the time and it was really late.

You got dressed in a hurry and grabbed your laptop, some notebooks and a couple of pens.

 By the time you arrived at the library, Sylvain was already there. He was looking around, his bag grabbed laid causally on his back, hold by the handle with his strong fist. His other hand was resting in his pocket.

While his appearance was laid back, you were a bundle of nerves. As soon as your gaze found him, you felt a knot form in your gut. You denied that the young man could have that kind of effect on you, but the evidence was overwhelming. Why did it have to be so difficult in person? It had been so easy when you didn’t have to see his face – so handsome it was unnerving. You were the opposite you had been on your telematic conversations, far from your calm, charming and charismatic charade.

He was wearing a simple long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. It was a mystery for you why he didn’t opt for a modelling career. You forcibly reminded yourself that despite his beauty, he was a Don Juan, totally uninterested in you. You chanted Claude’s words ‘see what happens, don’t implicate yourself too much’ as you approached him.

Suddenly, his tan eyes focused on you as he recognized your figure, so you composed yourself the best you could. His lovely lips displayed a soft smile.

“Hey, Sylvain”, you greeted with an affected amiability. Still, you were tense.

“Hello there, princess.” He winked at you. “It’s nice to see you outside the classroom.”

“Yes, it’s refreshing,” you nodded.

You entered the big building with Sylvain at your side. Neither of you said anything, justifying yourself in the mandatory silence of a library. Some girls giggled as you walked past them, pointing at you two. And you noticed Sylvain looked a bit annoyed. The next thing you noticed was your teacher Catherine distracting the black-haired librarian with her nonstop chatter.

You turned your head to comment something to him, but he grinned, and you forgot your words. You simpered back, and he seemed content with that.

At last, you were in the ‘working-group’ area. The library itself was almost empty – but Dorothea told you it would be filled to the brim during finals week. There were some students chatting and taking notes, but not too many since most of the would be probably going to bars, pubs, and discos. And it was right then when it hit you that Sylvain was not in some sort of date or in a quest to gain the favours of a pretty girl.

So far, you had detected two oddities in his behaviour. Texting and spending a Saturday evening in the library. And the common factor was you.

“Where should we start?”, asked Sylvain as he took a seat, startling you since you were absorbed in your thoughts. You mimicked him and made up your mind.

“Let me thing”, you said. At the same time, you took your laptop from your bag and turned it on. “Since we have to talk about the early history of Faerghus… maybe we can cover the foundation first?”, you suggested. Sylvain had a notebook and a pencil and started scribbling an outline of the project. “We’ll need… a biography of Loog. Or two. And a history book about the 8th century.” You peeked his handwriting. It was neat, with small letters. His S’s had an characteristic flourish.

“I have a good book on the Crescent Moon War, which is also a theme featured in our project”, he said, staring at his sheet. “Well... it’s Miklan’s”, Sylvain grimaced as he added that part, “but I can borrow it.”

“That’d be great.”

“Do you know what’d be great?”, he looked at you. “Watching Loog and the Maiden of Wind! I don’t know what you have against films. It would have been a perfect way to spend our Saturday.”

“Again?”, you laughed.

“It’s for research purposes. No fishy business here.” He placed the palm of his hand over his chest. “Scout’s honour.”

“If I accept will you focus on out project?”, you bit your lip.

“Yes! I promise.”

“Okay. How about we watch it once we’re finished?”

“It’s a deal.” He winked again, looking satisfied with himself. Then, he stood up. “I’ll look for the books we need. In the meantime, you can search on the Internet some good articles on the controversies of Loog’s biography.”

At the moment he vanished, you breathed deeply to calm your heart, since you could almost hear it thudding in your chest. This meeting had been more awkward than you had expected, at least on your part. You wondered if Sylvain was feeling it too, the rusty mechanism of two people who knew each other but had never held a whole conversation in real life.

And all the same… It didn’t feel bad, being next to Sylvain. It was great, even if you were on edge. If you didn’t know it was impossible, you’d describe that sensation as familiar. A déjà vu of some sort, as though you had gone over this stage with Sylvain a million of times and every time your pulse shot up.

You tried to concentrate on looking for articles. You found a couple of them that could be useful, singed under big names of the field that would increase the credibility of your work.

You were absentminded during the rest of your search, trying to figure out how to be natural in your next conversation with Sylvain. You were a little insecure, even when Sylvain seemed to be comfortable with you. Your head was full of what ifs.  

“I got our books!”, Sylvain announced cheerful, interrupting your worry.

He sat again next to you. And you swore he was closer than he was before. You could feel the heat emanating from him, warming your arm. And you could hear him breathing. His scent reached you. He had used just deodorant, which along with his natural smell was intoxicating. His shoulder bumped into yours in what looked like a premeditated manner.

“We could split the work. Maybe we could work together on the main structure and the final draft, and work on the information on our own…”, you said as you tried to concentrate on the pile of history volumes rather than any matter related to Sylvain. Otherwise you’d forget how to speak.

“That seems fair.”

Sylvain made himself comfortable, resting his chin on the hand opposite to you. This way he had a perfect view of what you were writing on your computer – and your face, but you refused to believe he was that interested in you. He was invading your personal space in every way and he didn’t care.

“What do you prefer?”, you asked, all professional. You weren’t going to move away.

“I don’t mind, love,” he shrugged. “What do you prefer?”

“Sylvain, we are a team. You should give your opinion.” He remained silent and you dared to turn your head away from the screen of your laptop. He was smiling, but his eyes were half-close, as if figuring out what you were thinking. “Sylvain?”

“Ah, yes.” He blinked. “We’re a team.” He stopped, savouring the word. “I’ll take the Crescent War Moon in that case.”

He then wrote a couple of lines on his notebook. You could see he was writing down a list of ideas on bullet points. You did the same on a sheet of paper you had on you. After a couple of seconds, he talked again.

“Thanks for taking into consideration my preferences,” he placed his arm around the back of your chair.

“Why wouldn’t I?”, you questioned seriously. You were at total lost with him, so you leant in closer. You couldn’t care less, you were just playing his game. He acknowledged it, because you could see him narrowing his eyes at your movement.

“Let’s say some people is not as nice.”

You didn’t answer. What could have you said? It was not what you were expecting him to reply.

Breaking the bubble that you both had formed around you, two girls appeared out of nowhere. They were the ones you had seen before when you entered the building. Instinctively, you distanced yourself from the redhead.

“Sylvain?”, one of them started. They both were wearing fake grins.

“Do I know you?”, Sylvain asked, showing a bit of discomfort.

“Of course? We had a date in summer!”, the girl continued. She hadn’t taken the hint. “So, my friend and I were wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight, go to a bar, then you could come to our apartment, you know…”

You opened your eyes in surprise at the girl’s forwardness. And judging by Sylvain’s astonishment, he wasn’t expecting either such a direct and shameless offer. Did Sylvain have to deal with that too often? It made you feel uneasy. Of course, Ingrid would say he’d deserve it, because he had cultivated his reputation himself, but every part was so wrong. The way they talked to him as if he was a piece of meat, they way they looked at him.

“I’m afraid I must decline your offer, darling,” he talked in his most conciliatory voice.

“What? Really?”, said the other friend, huffing. “You said he’d agree.”

“Well, I’m working on a project with my friend, so… I’m quite busy.”

“I can’t believe you are rejecting us, Sylvain,” she made a disgusted face. “Anyways, your choice. Enjoy your new girlfriend, but I guess it will last like one week before you can find someone better.” Then, they turned around, looking behind a few times and gossiping.

“What the hell?”, you wondered, bewildered.

“Just my routine”, he sighed.

“We can continue another day, Sylvain”, you tested the waters. You sensed something was wrong and that he wanted to go home, and you had the feeling that he wouldn’t admit it by himself. “It’s getting late anyways.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right. Let’s go” He put the piece of paper inside one of the pages of a volume he was going to take. “We can meet other day to put everything together.”

“Of course.” You started putting away your things back in your bag. Sylvain was no longer smiling.

“Can you pass me that book?”, he pointed at the red one you had on your side.

You took it and offered it to him. He extended his hand, and when he placed his fingers around it, they brushed yours. Your heart started to beat fast.

Yet before you could make sense of the occurrence, a stabbing pain stroke you. It felt like a spear had pierced through you, right below your chest. It was so real, so shocking, tears started to form on your eyes. You felt blood coming out, but when you looked for it, there was nothing there. The pain was beginning to expand, a wildfire burning your torso.

You put your palm where you felt the pain, unable to breathe. Suddenly, Sylvain realised something was wrong. You were opening your mouth to take in oxygen, but it was in vain.

“What’s happening?”, he could be shouting your name, but you couldn’t listen because the only thing you heard was a rush on your ears.

He grabbed your arm, but it only made it worse. It made all those strange phenomena more sharp and real. You whispered a faint ‘let me go’, and Sylvain moved away immediately. His steps were so fast he hit the chair and it fell down.

All of a sudden, when his skin wasn’t in contact with yours, everything subsided.

“Are you okay?”, Sylvain asked, alarmed. You hadn’t seen him that serious in all your life.

“Yes. I…”, you didn’t finish the sentence. Instead you recovered your breath slowly.

“Stop making so much noise! And don’t break the furniture!”, a kid appeared from behind one of the bookcases. His hair was dark brown, and he wielded a broom that he used to threaten. You felt a little embarrassed, so you muttered an apology before grabbing your things and almost running to the exit. Sylvain followed you closely.

“Are you okay?”, Sylvain repeated once you were on the street. As far as you could tell, he was concerned, but more than worry, his eyes displayed suspicion and curiosity.

“Yes. It’s nothing, I just had a problem breathing… maybe it was the dust”, you brushed it off.

“It might have been an anxiety attack. Some people have a lot during their first year at university”, he noted. His smile came back, reassuring. It was incredible how his demeanour could change so quickly. “What a day, huh?”, he laughed. “We should meet again soon. I had fun despite everything.”

“Despite the awkwardness too?”, you replied, both playful and too exhausted from the experience to second-guess your interactions with him.

“What do you mean? That was the best part!”

“C’mon Sylvain!” You denied with your head.

“I don’t know, okay? It just felt nice. You make good company.” He was staring off inro space, and you hoped in the most obscure part of your heart that he was being honest.

“Oh, and you realize that now?”, you teased.

“Better late than never,” your classmate added.

“I suppose.”

Step by step you started walking in the same direction. You were in silence. Each of you had much to make sense of. You weren’t paying attention to the time, until you reached a familiar crossing.

“I’m going this way”, you said as you signalled your direction.

“I’m happy we got paired up in class,” he stated. He was just as handsome as when you met him, but he had a sadder air.

“Me too. See you later, Sylvain.”

“See you.” He stood there, watching you disappear into a corner. Then, he talked to himself. “What a day…”

[wincestisasincest]

2000 Man (A beatle!reader story) - Part 5: Fore!

A quick one, inspired by this picture. Beautiful.

As always, credit to @casafrass for inventing the concept of Beatle!reader, that mf idea that sister snatched my heart. 

Description: It’s the year 2000, and y/n, the fifth member of the Beatles, is advertising her new book, Madam Beatle, in her first interview of the year. We see snapshots of her life, from when she joined the band, to the trials and tribulations, to the death of the band, and everything in between. Loosely inspired by Slumdog Millionaire. 

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Head canons: None, I think, besides the general concept, this is just me spitballing. 

Words: 1465

Pairings: None? I mean, it’s the same as always, depending on how you view it, it can either be a pairing or a friendship.

Warnings: Alcohol, smoking, golf

“There is this recurring, oh, let’s call it a motif, in the book, of the Rolling Stones.” 

“Yeah, this is one of the few cases in which popular opinion was actually correct. We really did see the Stones a lot.”

“Now, you were friends?”

“I’d say so, yes. Initially, we had something of a rivalry, I guess you’d call it, but even in those days, we still had a very deep reverence for each other. And, then, at one point, our managers decided that we should meet.”

“An interesting decision, yes?” 

“Well, you see, in our industry, competition isn’t unusual, but having enemies really can’t be an option. I think they wanted to actually have us meet face to face so our competitive energy couldn’t turn into blind hatred. Because that only leads to worse things.” 

“Hasn’t competition produced some great records?” 

“Yes, but it’s not really a prerequisite. All due respect, I really am against the idea that you need some sort of negative presence to properly be a musician, or make beautiful things. People just like focusing on that because it’s interesting, but really, as much songs have been motivated by joy as they have grief. I wish more people, especially aspiring artists, knew that.” 

*************

“They’re late.” Brian checked his watch impatiently. 

“What’d you expect?” John was lighting his cigarette.

“Their public personas are one thing, but there’s no need to be rude in private.” Brian huffed.

“Maybe, and this is crazy, but hear me out, their on-stage personas evolved from their own personalities.” You retorted as John courteously lit your own cigarette for you. 

“(Y/n), I’m really not in the mood for any of your back-talk. If you could kindly keep the sass to yourself, I think it would benefit all of us.” Brian retorted and John snickered. 

“You got in trouble.” 

“Shut up, John, I’m gonna go check out the bar.” You shifted your eyes up to Brian, expecting some sort of reprimand, though he just looked at you tiredly.

“Just don’t get drunk.” And with that, he paid you no more mind. It’s not nearly as fun when he doesn’t get offended, you thought. 

You turned on your heel and wandered off in the opposite direction, leaving John to flit over to Paul, George, and Ringo, who were pretending to know how to swing a club. You laughed to yourself. The benefit of being the only girl in the group is that when they did dumb guy business meeting things, you were not expected to participate. Another day of your life where you would not have to play golf. Thank god. 

You swung open the door to the bar and the air conditioner hit you in the face. The bar had an old-timey feel, all the way down to the bar tender cleaning a glass at the counter and a few mysterious strangers lined up on the stools. Might as well join ‘em. 

You plopped yourself on the stool the closest to the door and called the bartender over. 

“What can I do ya for, sweetheart?” 

“Vodka sour.” He nodded and whisked off behind the counter to fetch your order. You took a drag of your cigarette.

“Vodka sour?” A thick British accent floated from one of the stools. You spun around your seat, face to face with none other than Keith Richards, the guitarist for the Rolling Stones, and also one of the people that you were waiting on. 

“It’s 5 o’clock somewhere.” You shrugged. If he wanted to play it coy, and act like you two don’t know each other, then he’s on.

He slid out of his seat and moved to the one directly next to you. The both of you were smoking and sizing each other up. Of course, if you wanted to ruin the fun, you could’ve asked why he was late. But you didn’t. 

“Vodka sour, Miss.” The bartender dropped your drink on the counter. You briefly turned back to him.

“Thanks, what do I owe you?” As you struggled to pull out your wallet, Keith took some money from the front pocket of his shirt and handed it to the bartender. He returned your startled look with a charming smile. 

“On me.” 

“Well now, I must be something special if I’m getting you to buy drinks for me.” You doused your cigarette in the ashtray and took a long sip.

“Nah, it’s just, I feel like I know you from somewhere.” He grinned.

“Feeling’s mutual. Perhaps I can buy the next one?”

“Oi, Keith, stop flirtin’ we got some bugs ta’ meet!” Another British accent, though this one a lot more harsh, cut through the room. 

Coming in from the alternate entrance was none other than the flamboyant, the one and only, the Romeon to your Juliet, Mick Jagger. Trailing behind him like ducklings was the Stones’ manager, Andrew Loog-Oldham, the bassist, Bill Wyman, the other guitarist, Brian Jones, and the dummer, Charlie Watts. 

“While you were sittin’ on your ass, Mick, I already got started!” He leaned back in his seat, revealing you sitting next to him. You flashed your million dollar smiled at the confused crowd. 

“It’s a pleasure.” You toasted to them across the room with your vodka sour, before finishing the drink off and leaving it on the counter.

Mick’s eyes slanted at you, and you could’ve sworn that you heard him purr. 

“A pleasure indeed.” He stalked across the room towards you, before gently taking your hand in his own and kissing your knuckles. You turned to Keith from the side. 

“See? He knows how to greet a lady.” Keith chuckled at your joke. 

“I apologize if our Keith has been forward at all, he can’t handle himself around birds, ‘specially those he fancies.” From what you already knew about Mick, you would never really know whether or not he was actually interested in you because he flirted with anything that moved. 

“The picture of a gentleman.” You smiled wryly. 

“Damnit, Keith. That’s against our image.” Brian teased, his blonde locks bouncing as his head moved. You giggled. 

“Well, I suppose we shouldn’t keep the others waiting? They’re out there pretending they know how to play golf.” The crowd laughed, yet again. You were on a roll. You got up from your stool, getting your footing on the floor, not forgetting to leave a tip in the jar, as you exited the building flanked by your biggest pop competitor. 

The image of their (y/n) coming up the hill with a group of men known for being disrespectful towards everything did set the lads on edge a bit. John was almost angry, Paul was concerned, George was curious, and Ringo was still focusing on his swing. Brian was just glad that these people had showed up on time. 

As the manager’s greeting each other with aggressive levels of formality, the group took to intermingling. 

“Not gonna lie, I thought you had just found some fans (y/n).” Paul started.

“You’d be correct. We are fans.” Mick put an arm around your shoulder. 

“Speak for yourself. I thought you were kidnapped.” John did that thing where he would say a joke, but you knew that there was real anger underneath. You silently prayed that John wouldn’t mess this up. 

“Oh, please. If anything I kidnapped them.” You psshed. 

“Does anyone actually know why we’re here?” Brian interluded, somewhat impatient with the formalities of the managers. 

“I think the football mums over there wanted us to play golf together? Because that’s what business people do?” John shrugged sarcastically, and the group chuckled. 

“Is now a bad time to tell them that I don’t think any of us know how to play?” George quipped quietly, though making sure that he was still included in the conversation.

“Speak for yourself, I think my swings improved.” Ringo demonstrated, narrowly missing the back of Brian’s head, though thankfully, Brian didn’t actually notice. 

“Yeah, if you’re tryna take someone out.” You smiled at Ringo, knowing full well that someone would die of a golf mishap before the day was over. 

“Speakin’ of takin’ out...” Mick looked back down at you flirtatiously. John had finally boiled over.

“Absolutely not. No.” He pulled you over to their side. Everyone giggled like a bunch of pre-teen boys, except for John, surprisingly.

“As a rule, (y/n) is off limits. Just business, lads.” He placed you behind him and Paul like a wall. 

“Imma big girl, Johnny. Just like you.” Talk shit, get roasted John. Though everyone was laughing, with several oohs interspersed between them, you could swear that Paul laughed unusually hard. 

“Alright you ten,” Brian returned to the group, “shall we get started?” 

“I just have one question, Brian,” Paul turned to face him, “how do you play golf?”

[isnt-it-pretty]

A The Queen’s Gambit inspired Sylvix fic I’ve had sitting in my drafts forever. Figured I may as well post the WIP!

TW for substance abuse, and generally everything terrible from both FE3H and from The Queen’s Gambit.

The room is silent. Hundreds of people wait with baited breath as two of the world's leading chess players fight across a wooden board. The pieces are lacquered - hand carved. Only the best for the players in Enbarr.

Sylvain studies the board, picking out his response to his opponents play several steps ahead. It's already the second day - five long hours the night previous left them both exhausted. Sylvain barely remembered to eat before crashing for 13 hours.

His opponent lifts a piece, his rook, and moves it forward. It's a clever strategy, but it won't be enough. The man across from him knows it too - he's twice Sylvain's age, but desperately trying to keep up.

They see it at the same time. A single move, and it'll be finished. There won't be a way for his opponent to come back from it. If he moves his bishop, it'll all be over. His opponent will resign, and Sylvain will be the youngest world champion at 22 years old.

It's his turn, he stares at the piece, his brain ticking into overdrive. It would be so easy, just to move to pieces. But then what? What else does Sylvain have but chess? He has no friends, has a family only in name. The media hates him, a stark contrast to being the Darling of the chess world at seven years old.

One move. And he'll win. He'll prove Miklan wrong, prove the media — his former friends, wrong.

He should have drank more before coming.

His hand is reaching for his king before he even realizes it - the words leaving his lip of their own accord. It feels right.

"I resign."

He knocks over his king, the hall is silent in shock.

Sylvain gets up, doesn't even bother shaking his opponents hand, and walks out.

...

He stops by his room with a single mindedness. His phone is going crazy, but Sylvain hasn't checked to see who is trying to reach him.

Everybody, probably.

His mother must be having an aneurysm, the media must be going insane.

He opens the door to his room and tosses the phone on the bed. His wallet too, but not before emptying out his cash as a tip for hotel staff. $500 total.

It's barely anything compared to his sizable room service charges - which is probably the cost of his room twice over. It's all paid for, he never leaves debt at a hotel.

There's an untouched bottle of whiskey on top of his mini bar. Expensive in beautiful glass. He hasn't touched it, preferring cheap straight liquor. Just because he can afford expensive drinks doesn't mean he bothers with it. He stops noticing the taste soon enough anyway.

He doesn't bother getting changed as he grabs the whiskey and heads out of the room. Somebody will come bother him if he stays there, and he doesn't want to be disturbed. Doesn't want to think.

Sylvain just threw the biggest match of his life, yet he can't bring himself to care.

The roof access is unlocked, which really should be a case for concern. Anybody with a key card could enter the stairwell and climb to the roof of the hotel - 5 stars and twelve floors. He can see all of Enbarr from up here. The twinkling of its lights remain unperturbed despite his actions. 

There's a railing about a foot from the edge. Sylvain ducks under it easily, and sits with his legs dangling downward. Nobody will be able to see him from the ground. Just a spec in the darkness looming above their heads.

He uncorks the glass crystal stopper and drinks.

...

Glenn loved chess. He was pretty good at it, too. It was something he and their father used to do together. Felix would sit on his dad’s lap and try to reach for the pieces. By the time he was six, most of the set had baby sized teeth marks engorged into them

Felix never had the patience for it, personally. He never wanted to study moves or games, never wanted to sit quietly and practice it. He preferred to run around, rolling in the dirt and mud with his friends.

It didn’t stop Felix from being enthralled every time he watched his other brother play.

There was a finesse to it. A certain wisdom that Felix could never quite grasp as Glenn carefully moved the pieces. He was better than their father by ten, and was competing in chess competitions by eleven.

Felix went to every one of his games.

Even now, so many years later, Felix can remember the magic of that first game. He was seven, following behind his dad like a little duckling, his hand grasped tightly in Glenn’s. There were plastic tables with chess sets on them lining the hall of the old community centre, but Glenn didn’t care. He was ecstatic to be there. The joy didn’t fade, even after Glenn lost the second to last game.

A year later they were watching TV. There was a chess special on.

That was the first time he saw Sylvain Gautier. 

Ten years old, the boy was already the darling of the chess world. His smiling was dazzling. The interviewer was asking generic questions, what was it like competing against adults, does he see chess in his future, etc etc. The answers came so naturally Felix thought the boy may have been magic.

After that interview, Glenn found every source he could about the boy. He replayed all of Sylvain’s games, tried to puzzle through the choices that were made, and why. Tried to figure out if there was a specific style to his play, something that could be used to trip him up.

In the end, there was nothing.

Two years later, Felix accompanied Glenn to a small competition in Fhirdiahd. Dimitri and Ingrid went along, if only to provide support. Both Ingrid and Dimitri were shaping up to be pretty good chess players themselves, but even working together they still couldn’t hold a candle to Glenn.

The competition was held in a high school gym. Rodrigue dropped them off and said he’d pick them up after.

It was a shock to everybody when Sylvain Gautier showed up to play.

Felix remembered seeing him walk up to the people running check in. Remembered seeing two college age students choke. Sylvain didn’t even smile at them. Didn’t even remove his sunglasses. 

He just said his name like everybody in the building didn’t know who he was, picked up a sheet to track his moves, and went into the gym. 

Even years later, it was probably the most surreal experience of Felix’s life.

Glenn won every game, ascended through the ranks just like Felix knew he would, until he was sitting across from a celebrity of the chess world. 

Sylvain was twelve at the time, but even that seemed so much older to Felix, who was small even for a ten year old.

Glenn smiled and held out his hand. Sylvain shook it, and they played.

As expected, Glenn lost. Dramatically, in fact, but Glenn didn’t mind. He was fifteen, was planning on what to do when he graduated high school in a few years. He enjoyed chess, but he simply didn’t have to love or dedication to play professionally, or the natural born talent. Their dad always said that the best chess players had a mix of both.

Sylvain flashed Glenn a smile, a little different from the one Felix had seen on TV interviews and magazine covers. Suddenly, it hit him. Sylvain had seemed bored in every game he played, but not Glenn’s.

"You're pretty good," he told Glenn when it was all over. 21 moves total - it was savage. “Did you study Loog’s games?” 

Glenn lit up. “I did! I, um, studied your games a lot too. I figured it may be a good counter to your strategy.” He looked over the board, over his dramatic loss. “Guess that didn’t pan out.”

Sylvain just shrugged. “You’re not the first to try it, don’t worry about it.” He checked his phone, typed something, and slipped it back into a pocket with a sigh. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go. Good to meet you Glenn...”

“Fraldarius,” Glenn answered, a little flustered. Felix knew he’d never hear the end of this day.

“Fraldarius,” Sylvain said. He shot Felix a smile too, before heading out of the building.

In the end, Glenn got the prize money - apparently Sylvain insisted. Said Glenn likely would have won, if he hadn't shown up.

Felix was only ten, but he found himself following everything Sylvain did after that.

...

The first time Sylvain played chess, he was five years old. Small and prone to illness, he wasn’t allowed to go outside like other kids his age. Instead Sylvain was kept indoors, where it was safe and controlled. He spent several days a month ill in bed, wrapped in soft blankets as nannies brought him juice and borth. His childhood was marked by books and quiet toys, things he could do without bothering people, or over exerting himself.

One day his tutor, an older gentleman named Mr. Hanneman, took out the chess board in some lesson or another. He said it would be a good way to pass the time. It was quiet, thought provoking, and could be played from a sickbed, as Sylvain so often found himself.

Miklan, seven years older and already pissed at the world, barely paid attention to the rules, but Sylvain was enthralled. The chess pieces were beautiful, they all had rules about how they could move and act - just like him. 

He took up the game with a single minded focus, wanting to know everything about it. He got Mr. Hanneman to bring him books and help him read them. Days which before had passed in a boring feverish haze were instead spent reading chess books, or replaying famous games.

By the time he was six, Sylvain was playing eleven board simultaneous games and winning all of them. He started competing soon afterward.

His parents were thrilled. It was the only time they'd ever bothered paying attention to him. Whenever he won, they’d make time to go out for dinner, or watch a movie with him. His mother read him stories at night. It felt good. So he kept playing, kept hoping they would keep gracing him with small smiles at his wins. Kept chasing the feeling of affection.

Other people, he came to find out, were just like chess pieces too.

In chess, one can estimate an outcome to a specific move. Can anticipate a reaction, and have a response already prepared. People are much the same.

He learned to read situations and people, how to act a specific way to get the outcome he thought would be most desirable. It didn’t always go his way, but like chess, it often did. He learned to smile; dazzle crowds and interviewers. His poor health was a well kept secret.

By eight years old, Sylvain Jose Gautier was a renowned name within the chess world. A prodigy. A future Grandmaster. He was on the cover of almost every chess magazine at least once, and was invited for photo ops with professionals. 

Miklan hated it of course. He tried to play chess, desperately wanting what Sylvain had, but he was never very good. He got even more angry, and when angry, he lashed out. Sylvain was an easy target. 

Sylvain never told his parents, but he knew that they were already aware. There was simply nothing that could be done without impacting the family. So he dealt with it, learned how to sleep to not aggravate bruises, learned to make himself silent, a shadow in his home.

It wasn’t hard, his parents did always like a puppet for a child.

[nicolewrites]

the impracticality of attractive best friends

@mishspelled​ why am i like this

Rating: G+ Genre: Friendship, Romance Characters: Sylvain Jose Gautier & Ingrid Brandl Galatea Words: 5,054

Ingrid is acting weird. Sylvain is determined to find out why.

AO3

Something is wrong with Ingrid. She’s been avoiding him for like four days and in the middle of a war when they’re supposed to be close companions that can watch each other’s backs, it makes Sylvain nervous. She still talks to Felix and Annette and Mercedes just fine. She even eats with Dimitri and the Professor one night, but she is certainly not talking to him.

The first instance of Ingrid being weird is when he finds her and Ashe in the library. They’re laughing together over some knightly tale which Sylvain is sure that he has read at some point or other in his life: he is friends with Ingrid after all. He approaches them quietly, making sure that he is sneaking up on Ingrid.

Ashe perks up when he notices Sylvain and he raises a hand in greeting. “Hi, Sylvain!”

Sylvain grins in return. “Ashe, Ingrid,” he greets.

Ingrid’s shoulders tense. She turns slowly to face him. “Hi,” she says shortly.

Sylvain pulls out the chair next to Ingrid and sits down next to Ingrid. He drops his arms onto the top of the table and rests his chin atop them, lowering his head to the height of the table. Ashe and Ingrid are both staring at him and he smiles at them.

“Don’t mind me,” he says lightly.

The corner of Ashe’s mouth twitches and his gaze darts to Ingrid, but then he drops his eyes back to his own book, reading the next passage aloud. Ingrid shifts next to Sylvain and her knee slides away from his where Sylvain hadn’t even registered that they were touching. He lolls his head towards her and sees that her ears are pink and her gaze is fixed determinedly on Ashe as their friend reads about Loog.

Slowly, Sylvain catalogues Ingrid’s reaction. She had tensed when he had shown up. Her ears are pink. She isn’t looking at him. She hadn’t seemed to want to touch him where their legs had been brushing. It really isn’t a typical Ingrid reaction.

He turns his own eyes to Ashe and, out of the corner of his eyes, he just barely catches the flicker of her gaze as Ingrid steals a tiny look at him. Sylvain presses his chin further into the cradle of his arms to hide a smile.

He’s not exactly sure what’s wrong with Ingrid, but from his perspective, it doesn’t seem to be an entirely bad thing.

-

The second instance of Ingrid being weird takes place in a small war meeting.

Dimitri and the professor have really synced up their plans since Gronder and the retaking of Fhirdiad, but that doesn’t make the impending task of taking Fort Merceus any easier. The battle map that they have of the fort, a parting gift from Claude and his spy network, is out-dated and there is no way to predict who will be present at Fort Merceus when they lead an all-out assault on the most protected Empire fortress. In retrospect, their plan is really quite stupid.

Sylvain points out a side gate over a lower part of the wall at Fort Merceus. “What about here?”

Dimitri taps the point on the map and frowns. “It’s not an ideal entry point for anyone except flyers, really.”

Sylvain looks at Ingrid. She is looking at the map too. Her mouth is set in a thin line and her green eyes are narrowed as she analyzes the proposed entry point.

“You could probably get two battalions over that point before enemy archers regrouped,” she points out.

“Yes,” the professor agrees. “Sylvain, how are your wyvern skills?”

He blinks at the professor. “Uh, I suppose they’re up to par. I don’t usually have a flying battalion though,” he points out.

She waves off the concern. “That can be fixed.”

“Professor,” Ingrid cuts in. “What about Seteth? He’s already established as a Wyvern Lord and he has the battalion already trained. We’ve taken on the aerial missions before.” Her eyes scan the map for something almost desperately and she relaxes after a second. “Here,” she says, tapping the other entry point, “you’ll need as many mages as you can over here and Sylvain has the Reason skill and the mobility on horseback.”

Sylvain studies the map. She makes a fair point. Having mages at that specific chokepoint would be incredibly helpful, as Ingrid had pointed out, but it is also extremely far away from where she, and Seteth in her proposal, would be deployed. Sylvain can’t help but feel a little hurt that she’d rather fight alongside Seteth than him, one of her oldest friends.

“Yes,” Dimitri agrees. “Sylvain, I do think that perhaps you should stay and watch mine and Dedue’s backs here.” He nods to Ingrid. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

The professor’s face is a schooled neutral expression, but her eyes land on Sylvain and he reads the summons in them without words. He rises from the table and nods to Dimitri and Ingrid before excusing himself. The professor trails after him and Sylvain waits for her just outside the Cardinal’s Room.

“What happened between you and Ingrid?” the professor asks as soon as the door closes behind her.

Sylvain blinks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about."

She looks unimpressed. “Sylvain, what did you do this time?”

He holds his hands up. “No! Really! I didn’t do anything. She’s just been acting strange lately.”

Something clicks for the professor and she sighs, an affectionate smile edging up her lips. “Right, well, you should sort that out. You two are one of our best pairs out there.”

Sylvain stares at the door to the Cardinal’s Room. “I don’t even know what happened,” he argues.

She pats his arm reassuringly. “You’re a smart man, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She turns to reenter the meeting room but pauses. “Thanks for the catch on that aerial entry point.”

Sylvain can only stare stupidly as the professor reenters the war meeting. At least he has confirmed his suspicions that Ingrid is acting strangely around him at the very least. He really hopes that whatever this is can get sorted out shortly.

-

Sylvain absolutely doesn’t intend to get into a conversation about marriage with Lorenz and Ferdinand, but they had brewed Seiros Tea and he isn’t stupid enough to pass on one of his favourite blends when Ferdinand is doing the brewing.

So he finds himself sitting in the courtyard as Ferdinand and Lorenz casually discuss the stronger hints of flavour in the tea, zoning out and staring towards the stable.

Marianne and Ingrid are both in the vicinity, grooming their mounts and chatting blindly about something or other and Sylvain finds himself watching them instead of listening to Lorenz drone on about the subtleties in the Almyran herbal flavours in the Seiros tea. Apparently, his distraction is unfortunately noticed and the other two noble’s attentions are snatched by Ingrid and Marianne as well.

“Two beautiful flowers, aren’t they?” Ferdinand says, a smile on his face. “And masters of equestrian arts.”

Sylvain stares at Ferdinand incredulously. “Hold on, what?” he questions.

Lorenz laughs, placing his teacup down. “Oh come now, Sylvain, I’m certain you’ve noticed the plethora of beautiful and eligible young women that frequent the monastery now. Half of them are courting your King after all, but it is undeniable that Marianne and Ingrid, with their titles, have a better chance than most.”

Sylvain blinks like an idiot and looks back over at Ingrid and Marianne. “Courting Dimitri?”

Ferdinand clicks his tongue. “No, no. Not Marianne for certain. There is no way she desires that sort of attention, but perhaps a smaller title might interest her.” His gaze softens a bit and Sylvain notices that Lorenz’s grip on his teacup tightens.

“I could certainly see Ingrid pursuing Dimitri,” Lorenz says, changing the subject off of Marianne, who Sylvain is now almost entirely convinced that Lorenz is enamoured with. “You all were childhood friends, were you not? That would be a most beneficial pairing for her house and it would be an easy match for His Highness as well.”

Sylvain frowns. “Dimitri and Ingrid?” He can’t really see it. Ingrid has only really ever treated Dimitri like a prince, not a potential spouse.

“Yes,” Ferdinand agrees. “Dorothea was telling me about the unsavoury suitor types that Ingrid has had to deal with in the past. I would have suggested Felix, but I suppose he’s already off the table isn’t he.”

Sylvain stands up, feeling uncomfortable. He’s not sure what’s worse between the allusion to Glenn and Ingrid’s engagement or the thought of Ingrid courting Dimitri.

“Speaking of Felix,” he excuses, “I do have to run.”

Ferdinand nods, completely oblivious, but Lorenz’s eyes narrow the tiniest fraction in suspicion. Sylvain stares down the Gloucester noble and takes a pointed glance at Marianne, daring him to voice his doubt of Sylvain.

Lorenz lifts his teacup back up and takes a sip to hide his annoyed expression.

-

Sylvain is on edge every time that Dimitri gets within a hundred paces of Ingrid for the next three days. Dorothea gives him a weird look over dinner and he quickly stops staring at his childhood friends where they’re eating with Ashe and Dedue. He stares down at his own meal, poking it with his fork.

“What is wrong with you?” Dorothea asks, not pulling any punches because of course she doesn’t.

Sylvain blinks at her. “What?”

She waves at him, gesturing to his whole body. “You’re all mopey and tense today. It’s like someone has been walking around poking you with a stick for three days.”

She turns and glances over her shoulder in Ingrid’s direction where Sylvain had been staring. Her head snaps back to him, her dark hair fanning out in the motion as she raises an eyebrow.

“No,” Dorothea says, a wicked grin spreading over her face.

“What?” Sylvain questions. “What are you on about?”

She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and cupping her chin in her hands. “Don’t tell me you have feelings for Ingrid.”

Sylvain stares at her blankly. “Excuse me?”

Dorothea smirks at him. “Oh my god, of course you do.”

Sylvain frowns putting his fork down so that he doesn’t drop it on the chance that Dorothea makes another outlandish claim. “No, I’m just trying to figure out why she’s been acting weird.”

Dorothea’s expression slackens into disbelief. “Oh,” she says.

They sit for a moment in silence, just staring at each other. Sylvain drops his gaze and picks up his fork, spearing a piece of pheasant. Dorothea sips from her goblet and the awkward silence lingers just long enough that Sylvain finally thinks of something just as horribly embarrassing for Dorothea as that last exchange had been for him.

“So, Ferdinand mentioned that you’ve been talking a lot.”

Dorothea’s head snaps up and her green eyes narrow so quickly that Sylvain is surprised she doesn’t reach across the table and stab him with her dinner knife.

“Not. Another. Word.”

Sylvain grins and takes a sip of his own glass. “Aw, come on. Don’t women love a man who is sensitive about his love of horses.”

Dorothea sneers. “Same way that you noblemen seem far too interested in a woman’s ability to love her horse with her entire heart.”

Sylvain pauses and lifts his goblet to her. “To our friends, the ultimate horse-women.”

Dorothea sputters at his classification of Ferdinand, but she taps her cup to his and they both drink heavily. Sylvain wrinkles his nose at the taste of the wine. “God, where did this even come from?”

Dorothea laughs, her head tipping back and her smile widening. “Claude, if I remember correctly. He offered the army Derdriu’s stocks.”

Sylvain scoffs. “Of course he did.”

-

The Ingrid weirdness does not, unfortunately, disappear with time. Instead, there are now six days until they march for Fort Merceus and Ingrid has started leaving rooms when he enters them. Sylvain just wants everything to go back to normal.

He corners Dimitri and Dedue first. They’re in the greenhouse, but Dedue has notably told Dimitri that he is not allowed to touch anything, so he’s just sitting on the edge of one of the gardens chatting quietly with his retainer.

“Your Highness! Dedue!” Sylvain greets brightly, walking into the greenhouse.

Dimitri turns to him immediately, but Dedue is hands deep in dirt and does not turn. “Hello Sylvain, what can we do for you?” Dimitri asks.

“I had a question for you actually, Your Highness,” Sylvain admits.

Dimitri looks surprised. “Oh, yes, of course. What is it?”

“Is Ingrid being weird to you as well?”

Dimitri stares at him. “Ingrid? Being weird?”

Sylvain realizes his mistake. Dimitri is one of the most socially oblivious people he has ever had the opportunity to know. He scratches the back of his head and prepares to backpedal out of this conversation to pretend it had never happened. Dedue brushes his hands off and stands up, turning to face Sylvain.

“Is this about her avoiding you and changing her assignment with Ashe or Annette or Mercedes whenever you two get partnered up for something?” Dedue asks.

Sylvain snaps his fingers and points at Dedue. “Yes! That!”

Dedue’s lips tilt into the tiniest smiles as he is obviously amused by the situation. “No, Sylvain, I believe that is only around you.”

Sylvain frowns. “Damn.”

“I think Ingrid and Mercedes and Annette were going to the Knight’s Hall,” Dimitri offers as if that solves all of Sylvain’s problems.

Sylvain nods. “Right, well, I’m going to go ask Felix.”

“I imagine you’ll get a similar answer,” Dedue says right before Sylvain leaves the greenhouse.

Sylvain decides not to dwell on that idea.

-

Felix is, of course, at the Training Grounds. He seems to be in some kind of strange sparring stand-off against Raphael and Lysithea. Sylvain pauses in the door of the Training Grounds and stares as Felix takes off towards Raphael, swinging his training sword with brutal efficiency.

Raphael blocks the blow on a training axe and uses his brute strength to shove Felix back. Lysithea then waves a hand and casts a spell, catching Felix loosely in a cage of Dark Magic. Felix groans in irritation and cuts the spell back.

Lysithea rolls her eyes and folds her arms. “You leave yourself wide open doing that.”

“Well, he’ll have back up on the actual field,” Sylvain chimes in.

The eyes of all three of his friends turn towards him.

“Oh, hey Sylvain,” Raphael greets brightly. “We were running some different drills.”

Lysithea huffs. “Apparently since Hubert uses Dark Magic like me, I’m the only one capable of helping out here.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “That was Raphael’s idea,” he reminds.

Raphael just grins his big dopey grin. “Hey, we gotta be ready, right? Hubert and Edelgard will be tough opponents when we get to the capital.”

Sylvain chuckles at Raphael’s endless optimism. “Right. Can I borrow Felix for a moment?”

Felix sheaths his sword and walks over to Sylvain. Sylvain turns so that Lysithea stops staring at him and throws an arm over Felix’s shoulders. Felix immediately shrugs it off and Sylvain smiles at the familiarity of their antics.

Keeping his voice low, he asks, “Is Ingrid being weird around you too?”

Felix just stares at him.

Sylvain frowns. “What?”

Felix grabs his arm and twists it just until the point of pain. Sylvain jerks his hand back, shaking it out and scowling at his friend.

“What the fuck, Felix?” he demands.

Felix scoffs. “Knight’s Hall.”

And then he’s turning around and walking back over to Raphael and Lysithea to resume whatever strange training regiment the three of them have developed. Sylvain stands there for a moment. He supposes that if Dimitri and Felix don’t have answers for him, his next best bet is probably Ingrid herself.

-

It’s mid-evening by the time that Sylvain arrives in the Knight’s Hall, but it isn’t any cooler than it had been in the afternoon. The torch sconces outside are lit and there is faint chatter that he can here from inside which means he is probably correct in assuming that at least one of his old classmates is still here.

He pushes open the door and is immediately assaulted by the image of Ingrid absolutely brutalizing a training dummy with a training lance. Sylvain stands there for a second just watching her smooth motions and the rippling muscles in her back, arms, and legs as she spins and jabs and tears into the dummy in absolutely brutal fashion.

Sylvain scans the rest of the Knight’s Hall and sees Mercedes and Annette sitting by the fire, flipping through tomes and exchanging whispers here and there. Ingrid seems so completely preoccupied with her training routine that she doesn’t even notice him. Sylvain redirects to the fire pit, plopping onto the couch next to Annette.

Annette jumps and snaps her book closed on her hand. Her brow twitches and she slowly reopens the book, shaking out her finger. “Hi Sylvain,” she greets.

Sylvain steals a glance back at Ingrid who has finished tearing up one dummy and is moving onto the next one.

“Why is she acting like Felix?” he whispers to Annette. “She’s not usually like this.”

Mercedes and Annette exchange a knowing look and Sylvain narrows his eyes as he looks between the two mages.

“She’s frustrated,” Mercedes offers as if he’s supposed to believe that’s all it is.

Sylvain sighs. “Fine, but why is she treating me like I’m horrible to be around right now? She’s not doing it to anyone else.”

Mercedes pats his arm and Sylvain feels pitied and a bit stupid. “She’s had a frustrating couple of weeks.”

Sylvain looks at Annette who is, historically, the worst liar he has ever met in his entire life. “Annette?”

Annette gives him a tiny grin which tells him that she knows something he doesn’t. “Why don’t you spar with her? Maybe that will be better for her frustration than destroying every training dummy we have.”

Sylvain pauses. It’s a reasonable suggestion, but Annette’s little smile still makes him nervous about anything related to Ingrid. Mercedes smothers a tiny giggle into her hand and Sylvain realizes that he is really not going to get anything out of either of them, so he stands up, heading towards Ingrid.

He picks up a training lance from the weapons rack and steps in front of her, catching her next blow and blocking it from hitting the training dummy. Ingrid immediately stumbles back, her eyes wide.

“Sylvain!” She looks completely startled to see him. “When did you get here?”

He chuckles and makes a loose, light jab towards her which she blocks instinctually. “A few minutes ago. Thought you might prefer a sparring partner to a defenceless dummy.”

Her lips purse, but she strikes back at him with a wider swing. “Fine, but you had better keep up.”

Sylvain grins and counters. He steps forward and she retreats, light on her toes, before she spins around him, trying to get behind him. While once Ingrid might have wiped the floor with him thanks to his lackadaisical ideas about training, he has seriously picked up his training during the war. He has her beat in the physical strength area, but Ingrid is seriously quick and it’s only years of training against her and Felix that allow him to read her movements well enough to block most of her strikes.

Still, Ingrid is coming at him with a vigour she doesn’t normally bring while training and Sylvain is quickly forced on the defensive. He locks the shafts of their lances together and slides in, closing the gap between them allowed by their weapons and Ingrid’s eyes blow wide with alarm. He’s not Felix, so he has no experience with grappling, but her lesser strength has her at a disadvantage here.

Sylvain, unfortunately, is momentarily very distracted by the candlelight flickering in her green eyes and she frees her lance, dropping the tip and sweeping his legs out from under him in a quick, fluid motion. The training lance catches in the material of his shirt as she draws it up to point at his chin and there’s a ripping sound as it catches on the ties of it.

Sylvain and Ingrid both study Sylvain’s now ripped shirt. From the fires in the sconces around the Knight’s Hall, the fire in the fireplace, the warm evening, and the exertion from the workout, Sylvain’s next action is done without thinking.

He pushes aside the tip of Ingrid’s lance and sits up. He strips out of his ripped shirt and stands up, kicking his lance back into his hands as he turns back to her, now shirtless. Ingrid’s lance is still pointing at the ground as she stares at his stomach blankly. Sylvain raises an eyebrow and she quickly turns her head away, her cheeks flaming.

“Round two?” he suggests.

There’s a smattering of laughter from over by the fire as Mercedes and Annette giggle at the scene.

Ingrid doesn’t give him the courtesy of a warning before she’s swinging her lance at his shins. She follows the blow with a slicing upward strike that Sylvain only barely deflects. His own weapon rattles from the force of catching her blow and he steps back. Ingrid follows, staying her course of what appears to be “incapacitate Sylvain as quickly as possible”.

Her blows are quick and rapid and Sylvain is barely agile enough to block half of them. When her lance's shaft smacks across his ribs hard enough to bruise, he lashes out with one of his feet to get her back. Unfortunately, the only thing he succeeds in doing is unbalancing himself as she hooks his foot with a grappling move he has only ever seen Felix use and takes him down.

Sylvain lands hard on his back in the sand, but Ingrid is not proficient in grappling and doesn’t realize that she has actually given him an advantage. Sylvain jerks his lance along the sang, sweeping her own foot and she comes crashing down after him, landing on top of him. She hadn’t been expecting the blow, so her weapon goes skittering away as her hands land square on his chest. Her legs slide around his hips and then Ingrid is sitting on top of him on the floor of the Knight’s Hall.

Sylvain stills, his chest heaving from exertion. Ingrid is gaping at him, but she isn’t moving off of him and Sylvain’s attention is unintentionally drawn to the iron of her thighs around his torso and the corded muscles of her forearms where she braces against his chest. Since they’re sparring, and Sylvain is still holding a weapon, he rolls, forcing her over.

Now he’s pinning her in the sand and he slides his lance up under her chin, effectively ending the duel. He expects Ingrid to laugh and shove him off because it’s so like them to devolve into grappling while sparring, but instead, her whole face turns incredibly red.

Sylvain pauses, staring down at her. She’s embarrassed? It doesn’t really compute why she’s embarrassed unless that she’s really ashamed to have lost to him.

There’s a scuffle of movement behind them which Sylvain dimly registers as Annette and Mercedes running out of the Knight’s Hall. He’s still staring at Ingrid like an idiot.

The redness in her face doesn’t fade, but she does shove him this time and he flails and falls back onto his ass. Ingrid doesn’t stand up, but she does curl her knees into her chest and bury her face her hands. Sylvain doesn’t get up either and just blinks at her.

“Ingy?” he says, testing out a nickname from back when they were children. “What’s up?"

“Nothing!” she squeaks out, lying worse that Annette normally does.

“Ingrid,” Sylvain says, growing more serious and a little more concerned. “What’s wrong?”

She drops her hands and tries to glare at him, but the lingering redness in her face makes it charming and endearing instead of intimidating like a normal Ingrid glare. “Nothing,” she says again.

Sylvain sighs. He stands up and dusts his hands off on his pants. He offers her a hand up and she takes it. He pulls her up and she stumbles into him before springing away as if he had burned her.

“Can we talk about why you’re being weird? We have an important mission ahead of us,” he begins, trying to defuse the situation.

Ingrid rounds on him, blushing again. “Oh my god, Sylvain, do you have any idea how attractive you are?” she snaps, obviously without thinking.

Sylvain feels his jaw drop. “Uh,” he stutters dumbly.

He knows he’s an attractive guy as the amount of female attention he had flirted with when he had been younger had been a very good indication of the fact that he is at least good looking. He had just never realized that Ingrid had noticed.

She spins away from him, burning her face back into her hands and groaning.

Sylvain’s eyes skim over her and he takes in her small, wiry form. She’s the picture of a lady knight and she’s an absolute badass. Sylvain’s brain immediately burrows into the ground as he remembers the feeling of her strong thighs caging his torso. Her hair glows gold in the firelight and her shirt clings to her from the sweat accumulated during her workout.

Ingrid is, as Ferdinand had unfortunately pointed out, incredibly beautiful.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” he asks. “Because you think I’m attractive?”

She turns back to him, glaring, but she is still red. “If I say yes will you leave me alone and we can pretend this entire conversation never happened?”

Sylvain runs a hand through his hair. That’s one possibility, but he kind of likes the idea that he can fluster Ingrid. He smirks at her and steps towards her. Ingrid tenses, but to her credit, she does not run away from him immediately.

“There’s nothing wrong with finding your best friend attractive is there?” he asks.

Carefully, with motions as though not to startle a skittish animal, he places a hand on her waist. Ingrid watches him do it, looking mildly alarmed. He steps closer to her again and the adorable blush creeps up her neck.

“Sylvain,” she warns.

“I mean we have a two-sided problem in that case if it is a problem.”

She blinks, processing his words. “What?”

He grins. “You’re hot, Ingy.” The childhood nickname feels weird paired with the compliment about her physical attractiveness, but he doesn’t regret it.

Ingrid’s foot kicks out and then Sylvain is falling to the ground again. He pulls on her as he goes down and she lands square on top of him again, this time settled over his hips. She presses an arm against the top of his chest to keep him down in the dirt.

“Shut up!”

He laughs. “I’d say you won round three, but you know,” he taps her hips with his hands, “I count this as a win for myself.”

Ingrid swallows visibly and then she leans down and kisses him. The kiss is hard and slightly awkward because she’s still pinning him to the sandy floor of the training pit and then because she jerks away after a second, flailing back as if she had just realized what she had done.

Sylvain grins lazily and tightens his grip on her hips so that she can’t run away from him. “That’s one way to shut me up.”

She bites her lip, looking uncertain, and loosens her grip on him. “Sylvain,” she starts.

He shakes his head. “Hey, you’ve been avoiding me. Can I talk first?”

She nods slowly and he rubs his thumbs over her hips, trying to be reassuring, but Ingrid just shivers at his touch and his mind almost immediately starts to wander back to the thighs of absolute steel bracketing his hips.

“I think you’re amazing,” he offers. “You’re badass and beautiful and you’re one of my best friends, Ing.”

She steals a glance at his hands on her hips and then looks back at him. Her green eyes sparkle and Sylvain’s heart flutters. “You think I’m beautiful?” she asks quietly.

“I do,” he agrees.

Ingrid’s hands loosen until they’re more of a touch than a pin and she shifts, her hips pressing into his. Sylvain’s hands tighten unintentionally and Ingrid freezes.

“Sorry!” she squeaks.

He feels himself flush a little. Ingrid continues on her previously decided path, leaning down as her hands flatten against his bare chest until she can kiss him lightly, almost hesitantly. Sylvain tips his chin up into the kiss and she responds by putting a little more force into the gesture.

Sylvain releases her hip and cups the side of her face as he kisses her back. Her lips are slightly chapped and warm and she tastes like the spicy meat they had had for dinner that night. He tightens his grip on her and considers trying to roll her onto her back, but then Ingrid’s hand shoves him down against the sand again as she runs a hand over his stomach. Sylvain grunts and deepens the kiss.

She opens her mouth to him without thinking and arches into the hand that he buries into her hair and the one on her hip. They kiss blindly and stupidly for a while until Ingrid tears back to breathe, her chest heaving as she stares down at him.

“Uh,” she stutters.

“Do you want to go for dinner with me tomorrow?” Sylvain asks before she can dig herself a hole. “On a real date,” he clarifies, just to be certain.

Ingrid’s awkwardness fades into a shy, cute smile. “I’d like that.”

She doesn’t move off of him and Sylvain glances down at their situation. She’s still basically sitting on top of him while he’s shirtless. There is no one else in the Knight’s Hall and there probably won’t be tonight since it’s getting later now.

“One condition,” he continues, his thumb tapping her hip lightly. She raises an eyebrow. “Kiss me aga-”

He doesn’t get the words out before she swallows them with a hard kiss.

[sabineelectricheart]

An Excitingly Boring Rainy Night

Summary: Sylvain and Byleth spend a night in with their daughter. It rains.

Rating: K - Intended for general audience 5 years and older. Content should be free of any coarse language, violence, and adult themes.

Words: 2700

Notes: Parenthood fluff. It’s nice once in a while, too.

When Byleth married, she heard two warnings. The first, from almost every guest to the reception, was that her husband was a skirt-chaser and should not be trusted. She did not take it seriously. The other, which was whispered to her ear by her mother while they sneaked a peek inside the church, just before the march began to play.

Her groom was smiling brightly, laughing as his best man scowled and her grandmother demanded them to be quiet.

“You are in for a lifetime of excitement, dear. He is jovial, full of energy.” Sitri said, a pleased smile dancing on her features. “Sylvain is just like your father in that sense.”

The infinite wisdom of her mother’s, born out of experience and self-reflection, has not failed them in this instance. Life with Sylvain had always been unorthodox, even when they were just friends. From snippets of life amongst the 1%, with expensive restaurants, opera tickets and impromptu trips to Brigid, to the simple and sweet, like flowers at her workplace, massages when her back hurt and stay-in dates just because. Every day was a, usually pleasant, surprise with that man.

It was all fine and good when it was just the two of them, but when Byleth got pregnant and had a little girl not even seven years ago, things became an entirely different sort of chaos. Unrestful nights and busy days became the norm as their daughter required most of their attention. Neither parent really mourned the loss of life they had before. Being the cool couple without children was awesome, but they loved their daughter more than life itself. Having her was worth any sacrifice, lest of all their high life they led before.

So, with all that, it often came as a surprise when they had a quiet evening at home, when nothing special happens. Nights like these were rare for Sylvain, and he thinks he will never really get used to it.

Isolde was sleeping peacefully in her bed. The dishes from dinner were clean and drying on the sink as the redhead sat in his office looking over questionnaires and tables on consumer preferences for his new client at his advertising firm. His wife was sitting on the couch flipping through history books, preparing next week’s classes for her annoying but lovable teenage students. The crackling fire and sounds of the rain hitting the window were comforting, though lulling the man to sleep. 

Cracking his neck, Sylvain shuts down his working notebook and rubs his amber eyes. He loved his job but he severely underestimated the number of papers he had to sign and review, he thought it would all be about coming up with creative ways to sell people crap they do not need. Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he notes the late hour and decides to call it a night for work. He could always get his intern to do it later. 

Byleth knows that her husband is done with work for the evening based on three things. The first is the loud groan that comes from his office which signals he is stretching his back and closing off whatever he was doing. Then he would peek his head into the living room. The messy ginger hair making an appearance as he checks to see if she is still awake. When she is not, he will scoop her up and carry her to bed. If she is awake, though, he moves to step 3. 

Jumping into her lap. 

The 1,86-meter-tall idiot which she has come to love collapses on the couch right on top of her. 

“Sylvain!” She scolds as she moves her arms to protect the book.

He does not respond and instead snuggles up to her ample chest. He eyes the open pages of her book and scrunches his nose up in disgust. 

“Really, princess? We aren’t in school anymore. You don’t have to keep reading about Loog’s rebellion.” The redhead points out, as if it was a revelation which would set her free.

Rolling her eyes, Byleth marks the page and set the book down on the table so she could turn her attention to her ginger husband. 

“Yet, it has not left the school curriculum since you and I graduated, so I still have to teach it.” She says, a little forceful. “And, before you ask, no, they haven’t figured out new things about a war 1800 years old, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t brush up on the old stuff.”

A flash of lighting followed by the sound of thunder captures both of their attentions. 

Sylvain grimaces as he buries his face in her neck. It is foolish of him, but he fears thunderstorms. When he was a child, rain meant staying inside, and staying inside meant having no escape from Miklan. Ironically, years later, when he was already dating she who would become his wife, it was also under heavy rain they had to drive to Conand, to identify his brother’s corpse after he died at a police shootout.

Knowing such a history, Byleth hugs him and tries to distract his attention.

“M’tired but I don’t want to go to bed.” The woman mumbles softly as she plays with her husband’s hair.

He chuckles softly. Snuggling on the couch sounded like a wonderful idea to him but he had something else in mind. Climbing off her he walks over to the radio in the corner of the living room. 

“Sylvain?” She asks, wondering why he left her embrace.

He shushes her and turns on the radio. The sounds of an old song began playing full volume through the room, drowning the sound of thunder outside.

“I Put a Spell on You.” Sylvain says, waltzing over to his wife, holding out his hand.

Byleth raises an eyebrow and lets out a small laugh.

“Name of the song, darling.” He answers an unasked question. “My mother had these tracks on repeat when I was a kid.”

“I really can’t see your mother liking any music, lest of all romantic jazz.” She wonders, thinking about the infamous harpy of her mother-in-law. “Who do you wager she put a spell on? Your father?”

More ridiculous than Mrs. Gautier swaying through the room listening to I Put a Spell on You is having Mr. Gautier dancing with her. Many stories ran around about her in-laws, none of it any good.

Sylvain shrugs and gestures his hand, asking her to take it. 

A bit of late-night dancing did not happen often anymore and it would be great revisiting it. Grabbing his hand, he pulls her off the couch. One hand coming to rest on her waist and his other holding her hand up high. 

“I would have thought you’d have gotten bored of these songs.” She points out, knowing full well her husband’s musical tastes veered towards contemporary, high-energy, top 40 songs he could listen on the radio on his way to work.

“Well, blasting Yummy wouldn’t exactly be what I call romantic, even if appropriate when I see you in this negligée.” He says as he twirls her around and making her laugh.

Both of his hands slink down to her waist as he pulls her closer. Swaying to the soft tunes of the radio and the muted rain outside. 

“I didn’t know how much missed this.” He mumbles softly, his big amber yellow eyes meeting her green ones.

He looked tired but still full of love. The years had passed but, at this moment, it felt like they were back at the monastery where they went to college, that it was Establishment Day again and they were dancing the night away. It might be a little downmarket from the fancy gowns and the soft-falling snow, but dancing together in her pyjamas was just as romantic and joyful as far as she was concerned.

Another loud clap of thunder makes her jump in surprise.

Sylvain chuckles and pulls her closer. “Don’t worry, I got you princess.”

Byleth rolls her eyes and wrap her strong arms around his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. His hands squeeze her hips lightly as he moves to deepen the kiss. 

“Daddy?” A sleep voice calls from the staircase.

The sound of their 6-year-old pulls them apart. Sylvain has a small pout on his lips as he was already thinking of what the two of them could do before his little girl decided to interrupt. 

“Mummy?” She calls over once more.

“What’s wrong, Isolde?” The mother walks out of Sylvain’s grip over to her tired little girl who had small tears falling down her cheeks. 

“I’m scared.” She tightly hugs the stuffed teddy bear Sylvain got her a few months ago.

Picking her up, the woman presses a small kiss to her cheek. 

“Is the thunder scary, sweetie?” She asks.

Isolde nods and rests her head against her chest. Sylvain’s annoyance quickly disappears as he reaches for his daughter. 

“Come here, princess, there is nothing to be afraid of, I promise.” The father coos.

Isolde climbs out of her mother’s arms to get to Sylvain’s. She was definitely a daddy’s girl with the way she grabbed at the man. The woman watches it with curiosity, as in her family, she was more taken with her mother, while her brother and father stood as a unit. Amongst their in-laws, her husband was the favoured son, but he did not appreciate too much either of his parents’ company.

Thunder rolled across the sky causing Isolde to hide her face into Sylvain’s chest. 

“I’ll protect you, don’t worry.” He whispers softly in her ear as he rubs her back soothingly. It was one thing he dearly wished when he was a child, and now he is happy to provide for his daughter.

She looks up at him with those big tearful eyes making her father melt away like putty in her tiny hands. He hates seeing Isolde cry. Wanting to distract her, he eyes the radio that was still playing music.

“How about I teach you to dance?” Sylvain offers.

Her head perks up at that. Setting her down, he grabs her hands. 

“Now, for a proper dance, the boy bows to the girl.” He grins and bows dramatically making the girl giggle at her father’s goofy grin. 

“You never did that for me.” Byleth points out, playfully.

Sylvain looks over at her and scoffs playfully. “That’s not true, I was nothing but a gentleman during our first dance.”

That is a lie, of course. The college boy got rather drunk on their first Establishment Day, then asked for her forgiveness on his dick moves throughout the year, cried a little and then asked her to a sloppy dance through the ballroom.

Rolling her eyes, she cannot wipe the smile off her face as Isolde bows to Sylvain. Standing up straight he grabs both of her small hands. 

“Here, princess.” He lifts her so her feet rest on his.

She seems a bit nervous as the tall man moves, her feet not on the ground nor any arms propping her up. 

“Don’t worry, darling, daddy won’t let you fall.” The cheering mother says as she sits on the couch, holding her stuffed toy.

The girl nods and looks up at Sylvain. To the tune of old jazz music, he begins to dance around the room. Isolde squeals as her father waltzes her around the room. 

“You’re doing great, honey!” The doting parent says proudly as he tries to spin her. “You’re a natural.”

He picks her up in his arms and kisses her cheek. 

“My little flower bud is so talented.” He looks at his wife with a wide smile.

“She really is, isn’t she?” She rests her head on her hands as the redhead dances around the room with his daughter in his arms. 

Sylvain became a whole new man when Isolde was born. He still had that carefree and devil-may-care attitude that reeled most people’s nerves, but anytime he was with the girl, he was transformed into the most serious and focused man this side of the Oghma Mountains. Everything the girl did or say made him proud. His eyes just shined with delight when she would look at him or call for him. He loved her to pieces. This was his daughter. His little flower bud who he had to love and care for and he adored every moment. 

“Rain isn’t scary.” The man proclaims as the music come to an end. “Did you know that little ducklings love the rain? They all walk joyfully through the water, like one big party. It seems really cool, right?”

He brings her to the window. This is the first time in many years the man voluntarily looks out when it rains. The girl presses her small hand to the cold glass and pulls it back quickly. She looks to her father, still unsure about it. 

“You know what you can do only when it rains?” He offers, instead.

Isolde shakes her head as Sylvain smiles.

“You get to splash and play in the puddles.” He says, in that fabricated excitement parents used to cheer their children up. “Tomorrow how about we go out and play in the puddles? You can run and jump around like a real little duckling.”

The girl claps and nods her head. 

“Honey, don’t you have a meeting with a client tomorrow? And Isolde has school in the morning.” Byleth points out, as she usually did as the grounded, serious parent.

It might be a little cold of her, but it was better that the girl has no expectations rather than getting her hopes up, only for her dad to be stuck at work. The man frowns for a moment but the girl’s sad eyes pull his attention back. 

“It’s going to rain tomorrow morning, too, so the puddles will be there when I come back for lunch. I can take an afternoon off for my little flower bud.” He peppers the girl’s face with light kisses, making her squeal with happiness. 

“Sounds perfect, Sylvain.” Standing up, the mother rests her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get this one to bed so she won’t be grumpy when tomorrow comes.”

Byleth bops Isolde’s nose and she giggles. Her eyes were drooping from tiredness and as much as the man would like to stay up with her, he knows his wife is right. 

“It’s my turn to take care of it, princess. I’ll meet you in bed.” Kissing her cheek, the man heads off to the child’s room.

Ghosting her cheek, the woman clears out the living room and makes her way to the marital bed. She wonders what her Grandmother Rhea, the one who most often dragged up the man’s sordid past, would say if she saw her grandson-in-law with her great-granddaughter. Probably nothing good, as she still was not over her daughter’s wedding, and that was over thirty-five years ago.

Climbing into bed, she waits for Sylvain’s return, but soon the weight of the long day’s work threatens to overtake her consciousness. Her eyes close but she keeps herself awake.

A few minutes later, the man opens their bedroom door carefully and shuts it quietly. He quickly changes into pyjamas and climbs next to his wife in bed. 

“Hey, Sylvain.” She whispers tiredly.

“Oh darling, I thought you were asleep.” He wraps an arm around her figure and turns to face the woman. “You must be exhausted. Are you still having trouble sleeping?”

“I was just waiting for you, dear.” Her words string together as Byleth could barely keep herself awake. “I wanted to say goodnight before bed.”

Sylvain squeezes her waist and leans down to kiss her forehead. 

“Sleep, my love.” He whispers.

Snuggling up to his chest, she finally lets herself fall asleep. 

“I love you, my princess. Thank you for giving me my wonderful family.” With another kiss he closes his eyes and falls asleep with his wife in his arms, dreaming of what was to come.

If every night was as boring and uneventful as this one was, then he would live out a lifetime of happiness.

*_*_*_*_*

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