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crepes-suzette-373 · 1 year ago

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Germa and French references

(Plus bonus Star Wars mention at the end)

Sanji's iron mask in the flashbacks immediately made me think of Dumas's works, but when I saw it I didn't think much about it. It's just like, "Oh I guess it's just part of the Sanji = French thing". Plus in one of the cover arts Sanji was drawn in a classic Musketeer outfit, so I thought it was just for fun.

But Twitter user Marudoro-san made this thread that pointed out a bunch of the same references I'd caught and said "Hey, maybe this is actually important to the plot later", and I think they have a point. So I figured I'd share what I'd already noticed, and I will highlight the input that I got from Marudoro-san in red here in this post.

Iron Mask

The man in the iron mask is a French prisoner whose identity is never truly known in history. In his novel, Alexandre Dumas invented a plot where the iron masked prisoner is the twin brother of King Louis XIV, and the plot involves the famous Musketeers from the previous novels in a conspiracy of switching the king for the twin brother.

At a glance, it might be just a literary Easter egg, but when I look at it again, I do start to have questions. Within the One Piece scenario context, this is unnecessary. In the Dumas novel, the mask seems to be needed to hide the prisoner's identity. But there's no need to hide Sanji's identity, and it's not to prevent him from shouting for help because he can still talk even with the mask. What is it for? Is it a clue that the Man in the Iron Mask novel is relevant to this story?

For one, the fact that the iron masked prisoner being the king's twin is noteworthy. Sanji is one of 4 quadruplets, but still. Marudoro said that maybe this is a sign that Sanji and Ichiji will have a confrontation later. This makes sense, because of the other Vinsmokes, the one most likely to represent a "king" would be Ichiji.

This is something I myself had considered before, that Ichiji specifically might later have a role as "Sanji's opposite". I don't know how yet, but the imagery and themes that I've seen so far seems to point that way.

Marudoro also points out that if you look into the Musketeer novels, Sanji has vibes similar to Aramis, who is described as something of a womaniser. Aramis happens to be the mastermind behind the twin conspiracy in the Iron Mask novel.

The correlation is vague, and it's hard to tell how is this going to be relevant, besides maybe "there might be other French history/literature references in Germa's storyline".

Les Misérables, Revolution, the French Royalty

The only two Germa servants who actually has proper names, head chef Cosette and Sora's personal servant Eponi, seem to be references to the Les Misérables characters Cosette and Eponine. Part of the narrative of Les Mis is the June Rebellion, an uprising of the anti-monarchists.

In the Soul Pocus song that serves as the outro of the WCI arc, the "lyrics" specifically has the exact word "guillotine". For many people, guillotine is very closely linked to the image of the French Revolution and the execution of King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.

Speaking of guillotine... Yonji's attack, translated as "Winch Guillotine" in the official translation, is actually called "Winch Danton" in the raw. This is possibly a reference to Georges Danton, and important figure of French Revolution, who is curiously executed by guillotine.

Sensei clearly knows the word guillotine, so why not just flat out call it "Winch Guillotine" like the translation?

For whatever it's worth, Danton was someone who was executed for opposing the new government after the first revolution. The revolutionaries got so bad that it was called the "Reign of Terror", so Danton turned against them and was trying to oppose this cruelty.

Yonji is rather visibly the least "bad" of the brothers and his reactions are almost like a "normal person" in a lot of ways, so maybe this is significant?

Marudoro-san said that the Nyasha/cat carriage the Vinsmokes were riding when they were about to meet Big Mum was incredibly similar to the funerary carriage of King Louis XVIII. While there are some differences, they do have a point.

Again, it's still unclear about what significance all of this stuff will have. Maybe the imagery of "revolution" and "King's funeral" indicate that Germa will be undergoing a lot of changes. Something that's beyond just the formation of Neo MADS.

The Knights Hospitaller... and Napoleon?

Marudoro-san says there's an interesting parallel between Germa and the Knights Hospitaller. This is a chivalric order that has privileges that puts them equal to a sovereign power. They have minimal land holdings, but has the standing almost on par with that of a nation. It's like the landless Germa, who is still recognised as a kingdom by WG up until their privileges were taken away after the mess in WCI.

The Knights has lost a lot of its power and territories in Europe through history, and finally, its headquarters in Malta was sacked by Napoleon. Marudoro-san highlighted that Big Mum's hat and sword was called Napoleon.

Marudoro-san took this analysis elsewhere, but for my part, I'm wondering if Germa almost being destroyed at WCI is a parallel of this attack of the Knights in Malta, with Big Mum being the parallel to Napoleon.

The possible proof of the Napoleon parallel is Law. Law was heavily instrumental in Big Mum's defeat in Wano, and his name are connected to events related to Napoleon's downfall.

Napoleon suffered a major defeat at the Battle of Trafalgar, and the man who was his jailer to the point of his death was a surgeon's son named Hudson Lowe. Law and Lowe looks different in English, but in Japanese both are spelled the same: ロー.

[Edit: Napoleon was also famously defeated in the Battle of Waterloo. In Japanese, Waterloo is spelled like this: ワーテルロー. It contains the same "ロー" as in Law's name.]

Marudoro-san said that Napoleon's invasion of Malta involved tricking the Knights to letting him dock under false pretences. I don't know how true this is, but at the very least this is a narrative that is accessible to the Japanese. One could argue that this is parallel to the conspiracy in Whole Cake.

If this parallel is really correct, then, this could be a hint of "Good Germa".

The Knights Hospitaller surrendered and survived that Napoleon encounter, with its status being even more diminished. Eventually it restructured as the Sovereign Military Order of Malta, which still has its sovereign authorities (Wikipedia says they can even issue passports and currency), but is now an organisation whose activities are focused on charity.

Bonus: The Jedi and Clone Wars?? (Star Wars)

Marudoro-san also mentioned that the 66 of Germa reminds them of Order 66 from Star Wars, which ended the Jedi order and enabled the Sith to rise to power.

I only understand Star Wars very minimally myself, but a fan I talked to on Twitter confirmed to me that they think so as well. Especially because there's the specific focus on Germa soldiers being clones, and it's reminiscent of the whole clone plotline in Star Wars.

Order 66 ended the Jedi. The 66 of Germa is in reference to the destruction of the old Germa Empire.

If this parallel is true, then this might confirm the theory that "Germa is not actually evil before". If we read that the "Sith" is World Government, and the old Germa is "Jedi", then maybe it's hinting that all the story about them being evil in the past is a lie? They may be awful now because Judge is so driven by revenge, but maybe they were actually not evil before.

#one piece #vinsmoke family #germa 66 #conspiracy theory #analysis #theory #literary reference

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alexander-romanov-2 · 4 months ago

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The Lonely King

Alexandre Romanov found solace in the quiet corridors of the museum, the familiar marble columns and towering portraits of ancestors gazing down at him with knowing eyes. The exhibit today was a tour of his own palace—a hollow echo of a past he barely knew but was destined to inherit. He often came here, wandering incognito among the public, blending in with the crowds who marveled at what was once his family’s domain.

As he moved through the hall, the soft murmur of voices filled the air, visitors captivated by relics of a time long gone. Alexandre let his fingertips brush the cool banister of the grand staircase, feeling the weight of history beneath his touch. His steps slowed as he neared a room filled with delicate heirlooms encased in glass. It was then that he noticed her—standing just beyond the edge of the crowd, studying a painting with an intensity that piqued his curiosity.

She was not like the other visitors, who glanced quickly at each piece before moving on. No, there was a stillness about her, a quiet reverence in the way she observed the canvas, as though she understood something about the palace—and its tragic history—that others did not.

For a moment, Alexandre found himself rooted in place, watching her, the rest of the world fading into the background. The gentle light streaming in through the high windows cast a soft glow around her, illuminating the edges of her profile. He had seen hundreds of people walk these halls, but never had anyone caught his attention like this.

Without thinking, he stepped closer, drawn by an invisible thread of curiosity. His heart beat a little faster, an unfamiliar sense of anticipation building in his chest. He had always been alone, even when surrounded by people—guardians, advisers, servants—but there was something about this woman that stirred something deep within him. Something new.

As he approached, she shifted slightly, sensing his presence. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to bridge the gap between them. The loneliness that had clung to him for years suddenly felt suffocating, and yet, in this moment, with her standing so near, it seemed that perhaps—just perhaps—there could be a way out of the isolation he had known all his life.

#I miss King Alexandre #and all my royalty plots #first come first serve #open starter #I added a read more so it can condense the starter in later replies lol #scarredbookworm #fan-maddson #???

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throwaway-yandere · 2 years ago

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Saudade (Yandere!Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Reader)

A/n: it has been 500 years since I turned off my brain and wrote something out of pure passion lmao dimitri my beloved <333

Unreliable Synopsis: Circumstances won't allow you to be around the crown prince of Faerghus' side, and it wasn't as if you want to be near him either after allying with House Gloucester. Besides, if there was one person you want from your past back, who else would it be other than your old womanizer best friend? (Cw: yandere themes, violence, war)

commissioned by: @poptartsthings (holy sht thank you for making my first commission to be dimitri fic aaAAHHHHH--)

“You should just send them your letter– say that you’re sorry.”

"Uhuh, but what if he doesn't remember me anymore, Raph?"

"Well," Raphael placed both his hands behind his head, lolling back as he reeled a fish in. "There’s just no way. Based on your stories, I think he’s in love with you, (Y/n). You can't just ignore him forever, ya know?"

You raised an eyebrow, "yes, I can. It's not like there are tons of situations where I need to interact with the crown prince."

"Okay, true... But maaaaaybe you can try eating lunch with him!" Raphael brushed against your shoulder "There's nothing that can get people to open up like a good meal together. Maybe you can steal a seat– oh, and sneak in his favorites on his plate too."

You chuckled softly, "I think that method only works on you, Raph."

"Nonsense!" He said, shaking his head earnestly. "It also works on my baby sister!"

You snorted.

Your housemates are endearing. Truthfully, you never would have expected that it's comfortable in the Golden Deer. Your heart desired to become a Blue Lions graduate like your parents, but familial circumstances or lack-there-of forbade any opportunity. Had life been easier on you, your dorm wall would've sported your family’s blue flag.

And not Gloucester’s.

Since your parents perished in what is now known as the “Tragedy of Duscur”, Count Gloucester assumed responsibility of being your legal guardian. Your parents had always thought of Lorenz’s father as a close ally. Plus, this arrangement was better than living up the frigid north with estranged minor noble relatives who gave you an even more colder shoulder.

However, thread any less carefully around the Alliance, and you might find yourself under his conservatorship forever. You just have to thank the Blue Sea Star that you didn’t bore a crest lest you’d be engaged to Lorenz. Uncle Erwin is a wonderful father to him and he doesn’t treat you with malice either— but of course, he keeps an eye open to morally gray opportunities to exploit your title.

And that includes listing your name amongst the Golden Deers.

At first, you were hesitant in showing that you're an “outlier” in class, but it seems you fit the mold quite easily. Too easily. Not because you had been accustomed to their social norms, it is more like the fawns are oddballs themselves. The youngest was an enchantment waiting to explode, your largest was a total muscle-head, the house leader has a screw loose when it comes to strategic retreat and poisoning, and the rest are just as eccentric.

No one cares if you told them you have an affinity for theater here, and spoilers: they really did not give a damn. Except for maybe when Ignatz genuinely went "oh, that sounds wonderful, (Y/n)!" before the conversation digressed about Leonie's mismatched socks she bought on the market.

Oh, but Raphael and Claude did care when they found out that you might've had a long but faded friendship with at least four of the Blue Lions. Compared to Claude, you trust that Raphael comes from a good place whenever he brings them up. Since he and Ignatz were childhood friends who slowly grew apart, he has your best intentions whenever he suggests something that could reignite your relationship with either Sylvain, Felix, Ingrid, or Prince Dimitri.

Claude, on the other hand…

The house leader first emerged as a shadow, then he sat down and squeezed between you and Raphael, with his arm encircled around your waist. Claude's apparent lack of etiquette went unmentioned by either of you (you suspect Claude is part-Almyran), but you do intend to ignore him later like your "foster brother" does.

"Trading secrets about Prince Dimitri, are we? Won't ya invite poor me along in your little secret meeting?”

You sighed tiredly, "Claude–"

"I was just kidding. No need to give me that face," Claude raised his arms defensively. “My lips are sealed— I never heard a single word between you two, promise.”

The deers were a little leery of your prior association with the crown prince of Faerghus. Claude, who frequently pries into everyone's private affairs, persistently diverted your focus to the Lions. In fact, he once burned your favorite book to forcibly draw your attention to the library so that you'll share the same room with Dimitri. Talk about extremes, really.

But you did notice that there's something off about Claude this time.

“So what brings you here? There’s no way you’ve come here to fish.”

“Yeah, no…” He cringed. “I’d rather do the eating part.”

“Haha, you get it, Claude!” Raphael said before the two men shared a crisp high-five.

Ah, these fawns…

You sighed, “can we skip to the part where you explain why you’re sitting beside me right now?”

“Sure. Leonie wanted me to tell you that Lysithea told her that Lorenz was told by Prof—”

“Do you not know the meaning of “skip”, Riegan?”

“Nah, course I do,” Claude smirked. “It’s just fun to tease people who live in House Gloucester.”

“Sothis, have mercy.”

“As I was saying, Lorenz was told by Professor Byleth to tell you that Sylvain is now part of the Golden Deer.”

“…”

“… What?”

There was no dramatic gasp. Nothing sensational or derogatory comment was elicited from impetuous lips. You simply blinked and said the words "what? as if it were a simple joke. Claude needn’t explain that those were facts. Based on how he approached with worry written on his face that he failed to hide from you, he wasn't jesting.

You're reluctant to speak with Sylvain. You last spoke to him in earnest four years ago. Don't get it twisted, you do want to get back in touch with that philanderer's good graces, but where would you even start?

Dear Sylvain, I’m sorry for ignoring your letters? Dear Sylvain, I’ll reimburse you for all the theater tickets you gifted before without my consent? Dear Sylvain, I’m a garbage best friend?

… Knowing him, he’d likely frame that letter with careful preservation while the ink from his heaps of love letters faded inside his shelf collection. If you were to send similar letters to the other two, Felix would train to become a mortal savant and burn the letter out of spite, and Ingrid would have simply torn them up.

“WOAH!!!”

Raphael's chest caught your attention for a brief moment, and you quickly avoided him, concerned that those wooden buttons will suddenly protrude into your eyes. Your housemate captured the fish without even feeling his buttons tear apart from his outfit.

Goddess Messenger.

That’s quite an expensive catch right there.

But it felt like an omen for something.

“… I’m heading back to my dorm room.”

“Want us to go with you?” Raphael offered, but he reeked of fish.

“No, I’ll head there alone.”

Claude tilted his head, “Sylvain is probably there, you know.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But I’m tired.”

“I just can’t run away from the lions anymore.”

You should’ve taken your words literally.

Instead, the phrase "I need to get over this, fast" resonated in your thoughts, and you bolted as soon as the impulse to settle everything fueled your anxiety. You should have cared if someone got in your way, but you didn't.

“Ngh—” you flinched, bumping into someone’s back. “Whoops— sorry about that—”

You froze as you looked up.

Great. Just your luck.

“… What is there to be forgiven, (Y/n)?”

And of course, he called you by your first name. Your arguments against Raphael were demonstrably false. A futile hoax. Why even try to imagine that he might have forgotten about you?

Dimitri smiled softly, his eyes crinkling in delight. You gulped shakily.

After all, how can the crown prince ever forget his first love?

Now that you took a good look, his hair was much shorter than how it used to be and he grew positively taller. It’s a haircut you took a while to get used to, especially since you recalled how his hair used to hover near his shoulder. Not that you didn’t know about any of this information already. It’s just that you had to reassess those facts after seeing him up close. Perhaps a bit too close for comfort.

If only your last memories with him were as pleasant as his face.

He wanted you as his consort, but you had nothing to offer him. No land, no worthy title befitting for a king’s spouse, and no true inheritance in your arsenal at age 15. But when one has less to lose, they become more introspective. While clinging to Sothis' statue and pleading for life, they gain wisdom. Unlike the prince, you were not naive to what could befall the kingdom if you were to marry him. Instead, you sought asylum by knocking on Uncle Erwin’s door with the few loyal servants to House (L/n) left, and he accepted your offer after days of consideration.

His name will be tarnished as a young traumatized prince who copes by spoiling a love unrequited. But most of all? The loss of his friends and family would’ve developed his separation anxiety towards you more if you stayed.

The prince was something of a doormat teenager. He begged and nearly cried when you had accidentally slipped out that you’ll be allying with House Gloucester– but stopped his outburst the moment you chewed him out with hurtful phrases. Dimitri clung onto you like an affectionate pup and if his childhood self could latch on for the rest of his life, he would in a heartbeat. Perhaps it was the side-effect of being his first friend. He had always been a genuinely kind person, but he was always so caught up in whatever happened in the past.

Was it rational or heartless to leave him and the rest of your companions behind? Likely both, if you were to ask El.

That doesn't mean you don't occasionally catch a glimpse of him at the officer's academy. It's hilarious how, after Dedue performed his duties as a vassal, Dimitri now had to cope with a situation that was identical to yours. A "protector" so dependent… it was as though you were watching the prince try on your shoes. Your “you don’t have to shield me every time we go to the training grounds” line became His Highness’ catchphrase towards his retainer. And you’re not sure what to feel about that.

Was it comedy or plain karma? Likely both, if you were to ask Claude.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” you bowed. There would’ve been more eyes on you inside the cafeteria if you hadn’t. Gossips of lese-majeste would’ve stirred even Lindhart awake. “Do you require something from me?”

Formal.

Too formal for him, but not formal enough for you.

Dimitri's brows wrinkled, and you briefly saw his lip tremble. His hands were behind his back, and one of them was discreetly and firmly gripping his wrist. That man had a pained, speechless expression on his face, and you don't hold him responsible when words fall short.

But when words do fail, you wished he could just stop talking whenever he feels overwhelmed.

“I…”

I miss you. So much.

You didn’t need to hear it to know what he wanted to say.

Princess Edelgard was right, Dimitri is wholly predictable.

He cleared his throat, ears turning red.

“It had been so long since we had last spoken, has it not?”

“It has.”

“Around 4 years, so I'd say.”

“Hmm. So it has,” you doubt he noticed how your words were curt and redundant, since he's too busy trying not to melt. “So it has.”

“Are you enjoying the Golden Deer house, s-so far?” Dimitri manufactured a smile. “I’ve heard you and Lorenz made for a wonderful tag team at the last House Tournament.”

Bullshit.

He didn’t just “hear” about it.

You saw him cheer for you giddily in that tournament.

There is nothing he can conceal from you. If he were as cunning as Claude, it might take you some time to discover who was responsible for leaving sloppy, "anonymous" love letters inside your dorm. There were also petals tucked inside. Pink camellias, a sign of longing.

“It’s a feat not worthy of your praise, your Highness.”

Seriously, you don’t want to hear him flatter you anymore.

“Simply untrue,” he shook his head earnestly. “I’ve also heard that—… Y… You are fond of Raphael. As a friend— of course. It’s relieving to know that you have many companions from different walks of life— which is to say, I approve of whoever you talk to, but—”

You’re not deaf. You noticed how much his words were about your relations with others. There’s no other interpretation to this other than jealousy.

Still, his face was red. He must be too caught up in the joy of talking to you that he didn’t care for how envious his words sounded. You laughed curtly. You want to remind him the reason why you left, but you can’t explain a thing despite desperately wanting to, just like him.

Dimitri wants you back, so much so that he's stuttering in every sentence.

But you didn’t reply to his ramblings. Save for the cafeteria hall’s chatter, it was silent. You’ve long accepted in your heart that your family is dead and you ought to coast forward.

And there’s no future where you will cut through a path beside Dimitri.

Besides, House (L/n) had histories of trading tactics with Leicester, and you cannot discount how people refer to your blood as sheeple with its loyalty. It’s a double-edged sword, one you’d utilize well if you close your eyes right now and ignored the heartbreak and yearning in his eyes.

And so, you closed your eyes.

“My apologies, I’m in a hurry so I’m afraid I have to get going. Farewell, Your Highness.”

Dimitri's eyes widened, trying to reach for your arm.

“(Y/n), please wait–”

But you were already gone.

“Hey there, (N/n)!”

It was only when you heard a familiar voice did you open your eyes again.

An attractive and familiar young man lazily leaned on one hand on your door, completely blocking your dorm room. “Are you gonna talk to me now, or are you just going to ignore me for the rest of the school year?”

He’s here.

You steeled yourself.

“Gautier…” You exhaled.

“Oof, “Gautier”, they said,” he frowned. “Not a single “I miss you, Sylvain”? No “gosh, sorry I didn’t talk to you for so long, I was just too shy to admit that I was wrong!”?”

You chuckled nervously.

“Perceptive as ever, I see.” But you weren’t wrong. Becoming a Golden Deer was the right path for you.

“Not perceptive, but hopeful really,” Sylvain shrugged. “Based on that reply, I’m glad my wishful thinking was spot on. You do miss me.”

“I do, but I now just realized I’m not prepared for this conversation,” you said, surprised by your upfront and composed anxiety. That talk with Dimitri seriously drained all the energy you garnered earlier. “Can we do this later?”

“No can do. I shall allow you passage if thee speaks from the heart,” he teased with his signature ladykiller grin. “Go on, say it~”

You sighed, burlesquely exasperated.

The two of you adore theater, so talks like these were commonplace. He’d mask his flaws when confessing sins in this manner, but you prefer to hear his real justifications. In any case, this is just another conquest for him to gad off and hunt some girls in another house— and your new professor is undoubtedly a sight to behold.

“Oh, Sylvain, mine dear friend, thou art missed for nearly half a decade, but mine fear did not condone myself to reach out.”

Like two birds of a feather, you also similarly mask your sentimentality.

Funny how you can easily say you miss Sylvain, but not Dimitri.

Sylvain smiled. Genuinely, this time.

“Good.”

The resolution was surprisingly fast. You were willing to bet you both anticipated a serious confrontation– a meeting that feels like a long-awaited class reunion after a war or so. But no.

The two of you are still flawed yet perceptive idiots after 4 years of not talking.

You both laughed in unison.

What were you worrying about anyway? You knew that at this point if Sylvain was angry at you for leaving, he should have grown tired of that emotion.

His primary grudge had always been the crest system, not you.

You should've had this talk earlier, he's the only one in the Blue Lions you were sure won't blame a crestless noble like you for those circumstances.

“Now move, Gautier.”

He stepped aside smugly.

…

You opened your mouth in surprised indignation.

“Why does my room look clean?”

“I had Mercedes help me clean it up the moment I took a look inside. Seriously, I can’t believe you managed to live in a complete pigsty—”

“It’s like you want to sour our reestablished friendship in under 5 minutes, Sylvie.”

“...”

“What? Too old to be called Sylvie nowadays?”

“No, keep calling me that,”

Sylvain never stopped smiling.

“Oh, and by the way? I miss you too, (N/n).”

“… There you are.”

As soon as Sylvain left the hall to your dorm, he was greeted by the sight of the crown prince lingering in front of the stairways. Unlike Sylvain, he was not leaning on anything while waiting. The prince stood straight, dignified.

Then again, Sylvain knew his royal motivations lie in jealousy— and that’s far from “dignified.”

Sylvain can tell from his stiff stance that Claude was particularly touchy-feely earlier, which was exactly why he requested Lorenz to relay the message instead rather than the house leader. His Highness must’ve seen how close you sat beside Raphael and then Claude. The Golden Deer's leader knew Dimitri was obsessed with you— he probably intended to provoke him for the upcoming Battle of Eagle and Lion. It didn't help that Dimitri had his eyes on you, always. If not him, then Dedue.

Not that Claude's scheme will work. Dimitri was satisfied just to see you smile, even when it pains him to acknowledge that it wasn’t for him or because of him.

Sylvain is an exception to that rule.

Dimitri had a cold glint in his azure eyes, but his gaze all but glared at Sylvain. He had a smidgen of control, for now. But it’s not long until what Sylvain had prophesied about the crown prince quipping a remark or two about staying away from you will occur.

“Waiting for me to explain my random decision, I’m guessing?”

“Oh, I simply liked standing here but sure, Sylvain! I’d dearly love to know the rational thought behind switching houses out of the blue. It is not as if Felix and Ingrid were worried about you,” Dimitri generously gave his princely smile.

Sometimes, Sylvain forgets it was physically possible for someone so austere with himself like Dimitri to say something laced with malicious sarcasm. But Sylvain knew Dimitri stood there because he was still worried about his friend, even when he pretends to be unbothered.

Like bread and butter, Dimitri and forced positivism complement each other disastrously well. The Blue Lions often caught him murmuring things like "I'm delighted (Y/n) is making new friends" or "I hope Claude continues to treat them well" despite having a glum expression on his face, obviously bottling up his envy. Felix finds it as easy as breathing to call him out on this behavior: "Why bother stalking them when you can't handle the envy you feel when they hugged Lorenz or held hands with Marianne? ”

His Highness never answered that question. He thinks had kept his feral thoughts at bay most of the time and will continue to do so.

Still… Raphael, Claude, and then Sylvain… Dimitri can’t catch a break.

Why do all these men keep approaching you?

Will you never recognize the perpetual anguish that befall him the moment you didn't reach for his hand and took Count Gloucester's that day? Have you no sympathy for the man that promised your protection— for the boy you trained and sneaked out when you thought the king wasn't looking? Whenever he wakes up the following morning without you, do you not experience the same emptiness and loneliness that he does?

Was it because he is a "troubled prince" nowadays?

Was it because he couldn't taste anything anymore?

Why did you eat saghert and cream with Ignatz instead of him at the cafeteria?

Why did these men have to ruin the one taste he can recall?

He lies awake every night to the sound of phantom screams from fallen soldiers, friends, and family against his hand-covered ears.

But you were his solace. His “God/dess”.

And just like with the Goddess Sothis, he lacked the means to grasp your hand...

If only his cold hands could wring those men's necks as well...

“... Do you really want to know, Your Highness?”

It took Dimitri a while before he snapped out of his trance. His voice dipped low, his breathing uneasy, and his eyes lacked focus.

Sylvain looked at him with pity Dimitri wished you spared him instead.

“Yes,” he exhaled. “It shall help our friends put their minds at ease.”

“Well, well, you're sure it's not because you'll miss me?”

“Sylvain.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you,” Sylvain dreamily gazed up at the sky and boldly proclaimed:

“The new professor was hot.”

“Sylvain!—”

“Calm down, Your Highness! That was just a joke.”

Unlikely.

“I joined because (Y/n) is there.”

Dimitri froze.

The meaning behind those words could either be tolerable or impermissible enough to make the prince push Sylvain to the training grounds without remorse.

Sylvain’s not going to try and suddenly woo you now, will he?

You did grow more gorgeous after four years after all…

But Sylvain can't have you— Dimitri might just lose it. Out of everyone on campus, he refuses to let an adamant skirt-chaser take you.

“… Elaborate.”

“Elaborate? What’s there to elaborate?” Sylvain crossed his arms behind his back, now back to his laissez-faire attitude in life. He cackled to himself, absolutely unrepentant. “Is it bad that I want to reunite with an old friend? You know, before they were your friend, they were mine. Don’t forget that we’re both older than you, Dimitri.”

Multiple considerations led to why Sylvain chose to frolic with the deers rather than squander the school year at the lion’s den. One of these includes avoiding Ingrid’s nagging— he can’t be bothered having a pegasus pecking around while he galavants with (unfortunate) women.

But most of it boiled down to reunite with the one platonic relationship he missed.

Sylvain became Dimitri’s ally through you. Had you not approached Sylvain and Dimitri during one of King Lambert’s birthday celebrations, they wouldn’t have initiated a friendship through a children’s version of a bergamot tea party away from drunken nobility. More opportunities to befriend the prince would’ve likely presented themselves through Ingrid and Felix, but that memory of tiny cups and tea-stained shoes was special because it had you.

Because you were smart and kind enough to drag Sylvain out of his older brother’s schemes of public humiliation under the guise of being “invited” to an audience with royalty.

You were more of a sibling than Miklan ever was.

“By two years,” Dimitri stressed. “You’re only older than me by two years.”

“Your point? Doesn’t change the fact that compared to most students this year, we’re one of the older ones.”

He bit his bottom lip.

Age was one of Dimitri’s insecurities. It cannot be helped— if he were only older, people would’ve listened to his testimony for the people of Duscur more seriously— if he were only older, he would’ve had control over his uncle—

Dimitri’s knuckles grew white underneath his gloves.

If he were only older, then maybe you would’ve stayed by his side.

“What a lark. Are you attempting to compete on who had a better relationship with (Y/n)?”

“No, Your Highness, YOU are.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realized that those pointed words he spoke aimed towards himself like a misthrown javelin.

"Let’s be honest, Your Highness. I’m saying this as a friend, but you could be a bit tone-deaf and insufferable around them,” Sylvain deadpanned. “You had some serious attachment issues and you never listen when they tell you to stop with all those creepy comments about protecting them forever.”

“Is… Is that so?”

Dimitri muttered to himself while looking at his shoes, sounding almost broken. He had doubts, but Sylvain’s words practically cemented that you’d be unwilling to spend time with him again.

“Besides, if this were a competition, you lost the moment I waited at their dorm.”

The prince’s head snapped back up like a confused puppy.

“Why is that?”

What a horrible thing to ask.

“Because (Y/n) just told me that they missed me,” Sylvain smirked.

“And if you were there, you could’ve heard them call me Sylvie too, just like the good old days.”

Since that talk with Sylvain, Dimitri wanted to make you as lonely as him.

Oh, how he badly wanted to whisk you away from that house– oh just how much he wished he could force you to wear his cape– to wear the color of the lions.

But none of that matters now.

You look prettier when doused in splattered red.

The soil sipped the blood that drained from Ignatz's head. It reminded you of the time you asked the painter if he could use blood as a dye. If he were to watch this scene, he would've waxed poetic about how he will be simply returning his life to the earth, but the beauty of death is lost on you. The gravity of war weighed far more than the theatrics of what-he-would've-spoken.

It’s been five years since the war started.

You had lost your voice two years ago the moment Dimitri kidnapped you on your expedition to Garreg Mach— you’ve mistaken him for a bandit and in a blind rage, he dealt a massive blow to your neck. Dimitri didn’t mind that you had lost your ability to speak he seemed to relish that you’re similarly deformed. He romanticized both your disabilities often. A “God/dess” who couldn’t speak and a “boar” who couldn’t quite see. What a royal pair indeed…

You can’t say your prayers now, but you hoped thinking about praying for Ignatz was enough…

Ignatz should've turned 22 this year. Based on the way he last behaved, he didn't seem prepared for this war and had been misplaced by Professor Byleth.

You’ll never be able to eat saghert and cream with him again.

You can't remember what tactic you used in this battle. Was it Felix who was assigned to stick ten feet away from you who had slain Ignatz? Or was it Ingrid who rode her pegasus to stab the sniper in a suicidal fashion?

This entire battle is a blur. You can no longer stand straight and aim your sword reluctantly toward anyone.

Why can't everything go back to how it was before? Why can't you just fish at the Great Bridge of Myrddin with Uncle Erwin again?

You wobbled down the grass as a wyvern obstructed your view with its proud albino scales cruising the sky. Claude sits atop, his face stony through a nearly unrecognizable expression of placid anger. His emerald eyes inevitably met yours.

You didn't stand with your sword supporting you, and he didn't draw his bow either. Instead, before leaving to find the bright red target everyone called an "Emperor", Claude mouthed words that only you two could understand. You uttered nothing in response. Even if Claude were to succeed, his scheme would be futile.

Sylvain can’t save you from Dimitri.

Like a fairytale, it begins and ends with the crown prince. It always had.

But if Dimitri was the protagonist of this story, then pray tell, what does that make you?

A damsel in distress?

The king's court jester?

All you ever wanted was for House (L/n) to survive, to preserve your family name and dwindling territory against House Charon. You desired the opportunity to emulate your father. A fearless front-liner and a skilled tactician.

However, you have not taken any real action to end this war. You moved like a weak infantry, unable to maintain balance on one leg or call out for upcoming danger.

You just can’t run away from the lions anymore.

"Get up."

You couldn't move, mortified.

His Highness is back.

"I said GET UP!!!"

His iron-like hands yanked your hair up, and you felt some of it weeded out by his sheer brute force. You wept immediately but held back tears. Despite your commitment to keeping your composure, he had torn away what little hold you had left on what you call "stability." Your knees shook as his tall figure began to drag you away. Each step felt more jagged than the last. Your heart beat erratically as you worried about toppling down– and when you inevitably did, he was there to pick you up.

For Dimitri, this situation was advantageous. Most Golden Deers are here, which meant he had opportunities to route them all. He had already stabbed Ignatz, incessantly. Each draw of his lance— each crack of the artist’s glasses and bones— rejuvenated whatever youth war had stolen from him. The future king of lions couldn’t stop grinning maniacally as his eyes lay upon a deer’s corpse. It was as if his sense of taste was coming back. All of his soldiers and classmates were too terrified to stop his senseless slaughter. If Gustave did not scold him about the oncoming army, he would’ve continued damaging the corpse senselessly.

But it’s only a matter of time until he shoots for the leader of the herd as well.

He still hasn’t forgiven him for using his beloved against him back at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. This was the perfect opportunity for revenge. Once they’re out of the picture, then it’s only Edelgard left who he had to worry about— but until then, he’ll have to take the deers’ lives for stealing his beloved away.

Shame that Lorenz had yet to be found.

"Tch. Fool."

He cradled you like a bride but gripped your jaw like a hostage. Dimitri's current appearance is much too different from what he used to be. Sweat and blood had greased up his unruly hair, and the blue cloak that was slung over his shoulders was much dirtier.

"I command you to eat."

It was almost sweet. Almost kind when his voice softened for just a millisecond. Almost touching how his one eye gazed upon your sunken features with disdain.

But your appreciation for it all vanished the moment he robbed something from Ignatz's corpse.

"Eat."

He shoved onto you Ignatz's last bloody loaf of bread. It was hard, yet soaked.

Your throat couldn't express how terrified you were upon holding it.

"Gone deaf as well, have we?"

He pushed the bread closer to your chest, effectively crushing it against you. Dimitri breathed against your ear.

"I SAID: EAT.”

Your tears and Ignatz's blood salted your food.

The bread tasted just like the ones Raphael's family had in their inn.

Ignatz… He probably got this from Raphael… Which means he's in Gronder as well…

You sobbed as you took a feeble bite.

Please… Please be safe, Raphael.

Dimitri saw your struggle. He saw your continued concern for those who were after his life and yours. Why do you spare sympathy for the bodies that got in the way between you and him? They did not warrant those tears. The weak must fall— even he too will join them someday.

And so, Dimitri closed his eye.

You’ve gone fragile in his arms, and that was not spoken in a romantic sense. He had fractured your right leg enough to make you use your sword as a cane, yet he insists on dragging you in combat. Time and time again, he forces you to witness what he is capable of and more till you’re unable to write complaints.

Dimitri wanted to reassure you that you’re on the right side of history.

That you can cut a path beside him— you just weren’t trying hard enough before.

And it was a challenge the prince can’t easily scale. You never showed your appreciation for longer than a minute. When he learned how to dance begrudgingly with El after she had poisoned him with thoughts that he could use her teachings someday to dance with you— you dared to ask Sylvain out during the White Heron Cup. When he tried to give you a more fancy dagger as well during El’s parting, you admired Sylvain’s coincidental parcel of theater tickets and tea leaves instead.

Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain—

It was always Sylvain.

His entire body shook from laughter. You shriveled in fear as his voice echoed throughout the battlefield.

The beast put you down underneath a tree's shade that he deemed as safe.

… and kissed your forehead.

“I can see him approaching us.”

Dimitri cooed mockingly.

“Shall I decapitate and mount that filthy rat's head on a silver plate?”

You didn’t need to hear him utter his name to know he was referring to Sylvain. It was tempting to challenge him on how he could say such a thing about someone who had once been a friend, but that inquiry wouldn't help. Dimitri cupped your face and wiped your tears away with his rough and heavy hands. You flinch so easily nowadays.

How adorable.

Five years ago, you won't move a muscle whenever he kissed your forehead good night.

Five years ago, he worried about accidentally waking you up and exposing himself for breaking into your dorm so often just to drop his unhinged love letters.

Five years ago, watching you rest allowed moments of respite.

However, it didn’t invigorate him as much as your tears did now.

“Fret not, my fellow monster, I shall fetch it for you,”

He tightened his grip on his areadbhar, scanning the right field. The lance's crest stone glowed, and there was no looking back after that.

You’re here now, and he will NEVER let you leave. He won’t have a repeat of what had occurred when Count Gloucester was present around nine years ago or so. He’ll protect you this time, and it no longer mattered to him if he were a corpse or a monster in your eyes. It mattered not that he no longer slept. He intends to keep you alive and by his side, just like what he had promised in his childhood.

You can't even begin to imagine how much being away from you ruined him.

He had reached the point where he will kill everyone that tried to touch you, and he won’t have someone else do it, too.

Was this love or obsession? Likely both, if you were to ask Lady Rhea.

But what does Rhea know about Dimitri’s mental state anyways? She’s been missing for years now, she might as well be dead to you.

Without thinking, you grabbed his cloak. He patted your head but his eyes were locked on the cavalry unit from afar, and the dark and sinister smirk on his face solidified your fears.

Sylvain approached faster, and you did your best not to cry.

If he dares to fight Dimitri in the state he is now, then he might as well be a dead man walking too.

You wished you didn’t have to join the Golden Deer house— you wished Sylvain didn’t follow suit— and you wish you didn’t leave Sylvain behind. You did not doubt that if it hadn’t been for you, Dimitri would have concentrated only on Edelgard and joined forces with Claude to eliminate her. It would have given this historical period a more coordinated scheme. History won’t have to remember you as the catalyst that made things worse.

"(N/n)!"

You heard Sylvain yell from behind Dimitri, which only made your heart ache more.

It's been years since you last heard his voice again.

Dimitri took your warm hands and brushed his cheek against it, no matter how obvious it was that your eyes yearned for someone else’s touch.

He looked at you with such a soft gaze that you nearly forgot the monster he had become.

“Once we hang his head on our bedroom wall, you have no right to complain about missing “Sylvie” ever again, my beloved.”

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd x reader #dimitri x reader #yandere dimitri #yandere dimitri x reader #yandere fire emblem #fire emblem x reader #fe dimitri #fe dimitri x reader #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem 3 houses #yandere dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #yandere fire emblem: three houses #ansy-writes #ansy-comms #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd

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crxssmyhxart · 2 years ago

Text

Alex watched as the man flinched after he spoke and watched him lose his balance and fall into the water. "Shit." He ran down the pier, kicking off his shoes, pulling off his shirt and throwing his phone onto the pile before dving into the water. He swam to the man, wrapping his arm around him and pulling him up onto the dock. He looked him over before shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Logan was lost in his thoughts, thinking about his father. Thinking about what the man might think of him now. Toughen up. He could hear the man saying. Toughen up, Logan, and get over yourself. He told himself as he moved to sit back up straight. He was still leaning too far over the edge though. When the voice came from behind him, he flinched. His flinch was enough to cause him to lose his balance. He tried to grab for the beam, but his reflexes weren’t as good as they once were. Especially in the brace. Down and into the water below he went. “Son of a…” He went to curse, reaching to cover his nose as he went under.

#alexandre costa;threads #alex;logan

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callsigns-haze · 11 months ago

Text

Pretty like a crime

Chapter 8

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood, undercover work, alcohol use, smut, kissing

Prologue/ Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7

"Alexandre, is back in the family." Matthew says as you sit on your balcony, sipping wine to help relieve the stress you've just experienced.

"Nice," you mumble taking another sip and looking at him from behind your glasses. He's changed so much recently, more tensed and stressed. He's been so full of anger and lost compassion that you simply don't understand.

"What's going on with you!" He lifts his voice and you don't even lift your gaze. He's angry but there's nothing that could get you more pissed than you already were. The people who hated the Chevaliers were working their way through history and you were giggling at the sidelines.

"Your brother just flipped his car and nearly died. You're so stuck up and arrogant that you don't even go and visit him and just sit here going on about business, THAT'S WHAT'S FUCKING WRONG WITH ME!" You shout at him.

"All you care about if your doing well in daddy's business. Not once did you stop and think about anyone around you, even your own brother's. Matthew, history from ten years ago is getting pulled back up from the grave and you should care about not getting caught by a lose thread!' And with that your gone. As you storm off as you shove past Penelope.

------

These people cared for no one at all. All they cared about was money. You don't know how you got yourself so deep into this drama but you don't want to know, but one thing you learned is that the only way to survive is to thrive by yourself.

You run down as fast as your legs can carry you. Your dad was called down to the police station along with other team members with no reason for the explanation behind it.

You pull out your badge and guards approve your entering and sadly the first person you lay on is the last you would've wanted. "Matthew."

Matthew, was your father's lawyer, family business brings close and yet that so-called lawyer is actually your ex. You haven't seen him ever since you left, from what you heard he went for rehab and it showed. He didn't seem sloppy and drowsy anymore, he had composure. He stood up straight, eyes not bloodshot and looked like the Matt you knew.

"Y/N."

He could not believe his eyes. The woman he had loved for all those years and the same woman that left him was now standing right in front of him, ready to hear news about her father.

"Hi." You both say in sync , causing the two of you to let out a laugh. Your laugh was one of the finest you've ever given off, you're far from happy to see this man and no act could fake it. It broke the thick and tense silence as you asked, "What happened with my dad?"

He looked down at you and pulled out a bunch of paper while pointing and explaining, "They pulled evidence from back years, then forged them together and got this mess." It sure was a mess, each line being more fake and unrealistic from the other.

Your father would never do such things and never did, he has worked honestly and fairly and whoever was doing this to him would surely pay.

"Can I-"

"Hey, Cobra!" A voice from behind you calls as the tall, muscular, blonde, green eyed Texan runs up beside you. He kisses your cheek lightly as Matthew hunts him down with his gaze. Horrible timing Hangman.

"Who's this?" Jake asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. These actions are getting stared at by Matthew as if he was a hawk hunting his prey. "Matt, this is Jake my partner. Jake, this is Kai's dad Matthew."

If you ever seen a cartoon character lose colour in milliseconds there was no better way of describing Jake. All the colour drained from his face, he went all pale and stiff, while shaking as he held his hand out.

Matthew stared at Jake's put out hand and ignored it, slightly shoving past it as he tells you. "They don't have anything solid on him, don't worry. Excuse me, I have to go see my client." He shoved past Jake whispering in his ear as he walked past. "If I were in your place I'd leave my family alone."

Jake got the biggest chills of his whole life. Your ex was, Matthew Chevalier. Nicely putting it, he was done for.

"You didn't tell me HE was Kai's dad. Wait! So you're-" You've heard this sentence more than you could count in your life, exactly the words used on the phonecall.

"Madame Chevalier or Lady, whatever you wanna call it." You sigh, pulling your head back and putting it back down to lock eyes with Jake. You stare at his green eyes for just a moment and then lean in to plant a kiss upon his lips. You wrap your hands gently around his neck, twirling his hair lightly as your lips perform a sort of dance. You pull back and look Jake in the eyes.

"As much as I hate him he's still Kai's father and a damn good lawyer, that's all that matters."

-------

You enter the white room where Romain lay. His neck was injured and in a brace and his arm was in a cast. He looked so powerless. In this moment he looked as if he lost all the authority he's ever had.

You walk toward the hospital bed and sit down on the small chair beside him. A tear slips from your eye as you watch him in such a state. Out of all the Chevaliers he was the only one with dignity and a heart and this all happened because his dad kicked him out for loving a man and not Grace.

"Hey," you say, putting his free hand in yours as he looks at you. A tear leaves his eye as he lays his sight upon you. You felt horrible for him. He didn't deserve this, not at all.

"Y/N, I-i-i-i." You shush him already knowing what he was going to say. The Fortuny family ended in such a way and now he did the same but if it wasn't for Olivia he'd already be dead.

"Romain, their death wasn't in your hands."

------

You lay on your couch as Kai insisted on walking Jake's dog with him, and there was no way you could deny it. The blanket lay only upon your feet as you curled yourself up into a ball.

Matthew was sober and back into his ordinary life. He was sober and in a brilliant state, he was influenced and trusted and most importantly out of all, he found you. Matthew had the right to fight for Kai if he wished to.

Kai was his son after all and the only reason you left was due to the struggles that your relationship pushed. You quickly got divorced papers and signed them and immediately left the continent let alone the country.

You earlier pulled out a glass of champagne, but now you've ended up in the middle of chugging the whole bottle. Your ex husband is in town, meaning he could tear you down for what you did. He could easily get rid of you for what you've done.

"MOMMY!" Kai's voice echoed through the apartment as they returned from their walk. You place the champagne bottle down onto the glass, black coffee table and sit up properly from your previous egg position.

The second Jake had taken off your son's shoes, the little boy ran to you and sat beside you before you pulled him into your lap. "Mommy, can I stay up with the doggy?" The little boy enforced one of the fittest pouting lips you've ever seen but you couldn't say yes, not tonight.

"I'm sorry baby, bed now. You've taken a bath earlier and went out in your PJ's so you're perfectly ready for a night snooze." Kai groans as Jake appears leaning against the living room doorframe with the young energetic dog at his feet.

"Your mommy's right buddy, you'll still have time to play tomorrow." You look up at Jake and smile before standing up with Kai on your hip.

You carry him over to Jake where your boyfriend happily relieves your arms from your son, carrying him to his room to put him down.

- Once Jake re-entered he found you leaning against the kitchen counter, head pointing downwards as you took deep breaths.

There were silent tears streaming down your face when the flashback of the papers went through your head. You let out a little sob not being able to contain yourself and that's when Jake noticed you crying.

"Noo angel, don't cry. I'm here now everything is ok," at that you get up to face him gently wrapping your arms around him and sobbing into his chest.

"Shhhh baby, it's okay. I'm here."

"It's just that when I left I never had to s-s-see him aga-" you could even finish the sentence with your shaking. You were having another panic attack. You haven't had one in ages but Jake knew this wouldn't end well if you didn't relax and take a breath.

"Look at me angel," he commands softly, not trying to be ruff or rude but in a way to get you to listen.

You raze your gaze to him as your glassy eyes spill again and you start hiccuping softly.

"Now, see angel. I'm here, okay? I'm fine and I'm with you so let's keep the past to the past and now everything is okay," he says pulling you in gently.

Your son's slowed down as you started taking deep, slowed down breaths. "I don't want him here. I want him gone, for good this time!" You choke out before reburying yourself in Jake's chest. You want Matthew dead.

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