#but Sylvain tells him no one will be able to check for a heartbeat because that means putting their ears on Flayn's chest

[randomnameless]

Sitri had no heartbeat?

I think I already replied in an earlier post regarding the poll (but if i didn't i apologise lol)

Anyways, it's mainly a supposition - Sitri is a construct, unlike Billy, and Billy's "construct heart", aka, crest stone, never beat.

Unless Sitri had a "heart" like the human organ, she wouldn't have had any heartbeat too - but Rhea's formal about it, the crest stone, Sothis's heart, was used as Sitri's heart, and then passed on to Billy. The crest stone didn't beat in Billy's chest, so I don't see why it would inside Sitri?

Also, because I recently re-read the paralogue, Hilda mentions Freikugel is "pulsating".

In JP, she uses this ピクピク動 which roughly means it twitches/wiggles.

She doesn't mention how it beats (like a heart) but the relic "moves" when a crest stone is in...

Add to that how the random monk wrote in a book - that was hidden in the Abyss - how the relics stop "moving" when you remove the crest stone.

So we have both characters, Hilda and the random monk, who notice the Relics "move" when they are equipped with their crest stones, but do not mention a heartbeat at all.

The theory goes like this :

Relic (aka Nabatean) + Crest Stone = no heartbeat.

Billy + Crest Stone + defective human heart = no heartbeat.

(Billy - Crest Stone + human heart that somehow works thanks to the power of Tru Piss = heartbeat.)

So, Sitri (a construct made to house the power of the Goddess heavily infered to be some sort of pseudo-Nabatean) + Crest Stone = no heartbeat?

It's only conjecture though, like, imo, FE5 implying Fergus is Beo's biokid but Nanna isn't.

[lyteupthelyfe]

Something’s Funky with Monstrous Transformations

fe3h // Theory/Discussion // Very Heavy Lore Spoilers (aka don’t read unless you’ve played all the way through GD, BE and Church routes) // Long Post But i mean if you have played those routes, or just don’t care for spoilers, go right on ahead! Edit: Thanks to @golde-silvere for correcting me on that Crest of Gautier inherits from the Fissure Dragon, not the Grim Dragon (which instead possessed the Crest of Blaiddyd)!

So this is something I’ve been thinking about for a hot second now; what’s the connection between the Heroes’ Relics, the Nabateans, Monsters and transformations? The game tells us (and shows) as much that wielding a relic without a crest will turn you into a demonic beast, but I want to think about what exactly’s going on.

To start, we know that as a part of their physiology, Nabateans can transform between human and draconic--shown with Rhea on one, two, or three separate occasions, depending on the route. But, on a sidenote, this appears to function like a muscle, i.e. ‘use it or lose it’, since Seteth is stated to no longer be able to transform, while Indech and Macuil seem to be in the reverse, having been in their draconic forms for over a thousand years. But I digress. With the Relics, the important aspects of Nabatean physiology are the heart (the Crest Stone), the bones (the weapon itself) and the blood (the Crest). With Rhea’s explanation and Miklan’s demonstration, we know that if a Crestless person tries to use a Relic too much they effectively die and turn into demonic beast--and that Crested people are most likely safer to wield the weapons. So, it seems that something in either the Heart or the Bone ‘checks’ for Nabatean blood to harness the transformative force, otherwise the force just becomes unwieldy and corrupts the user. And, while anyone with a Crest can safely wield a Relic, only the Crest bearer whose Crest matches the Stone can actually use its full potential (i.e. either the combat art or extra bonuses). Is this the relic, heart, or bones being more receptive, aligned, or synergised to someone that bears Nabatean blood? Anyway, I would think that this ‘check’ is done by the heart--the bones are simply a convenient and strong forging material (in the case of the Relics). And, as we see with Rhea, having, well, all three, allows for transformation. So why can’t, say, Felix holding the Aegis Shield transform into a shield dragon? Or Sylvain with the Lance of Ruin transform into a fissure dragon? Well, the heart is literally outside the body. 

In the cutscene where Miklan turns into a mindless imitation of a fissure dragon, the force that transforms him originates from the Crest Stone in the Lance of Ruin. If the Crest Stone were inside him, it would originate inside him. But I think regardless of where it was placed, the outcome would still be the same. With Byleth, we see that putting a Crest Stone inside a normal person...does interesting things like somehow giving a pulse but stilling the heartbeat (might do a post on that later). But, for Rhea and others, their Crest Stone is their heart, and probably like a normal heart pumps blood through it. It is a natural conduit. And so this is where I wrap things up. In-game, we see that Rhea, Seteth and Flayn all have red blood--their blushing portraits all have red cheeks, meaning their blood is red (with hemoglobin or the like) in humanoid form, while in the Courage and Tragedy / The Curse cutscenes, The Immaculate One is clearly shown bleeding green blood. In other words, transformation either requires or forces the blood to change on a chemical level. And, thinking about the more body-horror side of shapeshifting, we see in the Revenge cutscene Rhea begin physically transforming into the Immaculate One, meaning that Nabateans’ bones are probably reconstructed every time they transform. So that’d be why Umbral Steel is so powerful in weapons and strong to forge: it must be strong to withstand the force of transformation and to allow for reversible transformations (does that mean being unable to transform is a Nabatean version of arthritis?). And I suppose that between the Heart channelling/originating the energy/power to transform and the bones being strong enough to withstand and allow for transformation/detransformation, the blood is what makes all this relatively easy and painless and possible--it has an inherent synergy with the heart and the bones. So, tl;dr, Crest Stone: The source of the ability to transform in the first place. Bones: Allows for transformation to (relatively) seamlessly occur. Crest: Allows for the two to work in tandem, is a safe conduit/insulator/mediator between the two. In other words, only Nabateans can safely transform because their bodies seem to be made for it. That’s not to say that an ordinary person in Fodlan wouldn’t be able to transform, just that they’d need to have a crest (or undergo a blood transfusion/reconstruction a la Edelgard and Lysithea), be Byleth (and/or have a complete heart transplant, exchanging their human one for a crest stone), and for the entire ordeal to be relatively painless and reversible, a full-body bone replacement. Ouch. But those are my thoughts. Yours?

[gallantgautier]

Birthright

ooc: A li’l IC drabble. This is happening in plain sight so if anyone wants their muse to have seen/heard about this, feel free. Just obvs keep in mind the parts that are spoken in hushed voices etc

He’s a full half hour early, and he hates it.

Hates that he can’t escape this, that he can’t just pull a half-baked excuse out of his ass. Couldn’t get out of classes. No, they really were important. Had an important essay to work on. The daughter of a noble family wanted to meet me; don’t you think that’s more important?

He hates that it’s not even that cold – by his standards at least – but his hands won’t stop shaking as he watches the dark, fuzzy blobs in the distance he knows to be horses trek their way up the road to the monastery. Hates that the Crest of Gautier on its red field is clear only because it’s burned into his mind and not that he can make out its barbed shape.

Mostly, he hates that this is happening here, open and exposed at the gates of Garreg Mach. Too many people around, too many classmates he’s offered brittle smiles and waved away with light-hearted jokes that sit like ash in his throat.

Hoofbeats draw closer, clattering on the cobbled road, or maybe it’s the sound of his heart hammering in his ribcage, Sylvain isn’t sure.

More than a handful of times, he’s heard the people of Fearghus likened to lions, proud and powerful, protective and brave. But as Margrave Gautier draws up his mount and slides out of the saddle, handing the reins to one of his men, Sylvain has only ever been able to picture a bear. From the wide set of his shoulders made to look even bigger by the thick furs draped over them, to his long, purposeful stride and fierce, dark, stormy grey eyes under heavy set brows.

The russet shade of his hair is their only obvious similarity, Miklan took more after their father than Sylvain ever did, a fact he’s sure the Margrave has lamented in the past. His eldest, so much like him in so many ways, save for the one that he needed to be.

As the man approaches, Sylvain lowers his gaze, thankful that he now has reason to clasp his hands behind his back, posture stiff, obedient. It helps to keep him from shaking, stops his eyes straying to the unsettling, twitching barbs of the Lance of Ruin fastened upon Gullan’s back. If he keeps his attention upon his shoes, he doesn’t have to notice if anyone passes. Will they stop and stare? Judge him? Ask questions later? Who was that cowed, quiet boy? Where was the boisterous layabout they knew?

“Sylvain.” It’s thunder, or a war drum, his signal – no, permission – to raise his head. Gullan’s arms are held out at his sides, just a little towards him. There’s no affection in the gesture, nor in the quick embrace he steps in into, an act for onlookers, what a meeting between father and son should look like.

“Father,” Sylvain answers, automatic, and steps back into his own space. He draws a careful breath, remembers his etiquette lessons. His voice comes out level, but it’s a practiced, emotionless sound. “The Academy is honoured to host you. Shall I show you around?”

“No need, I know the way.” No doubt, he has business with the Archbishop, and no doubt, Sylvain will only hear as much of it as his father wants him to, no more, no less. “After I meet with Lady Rhea, I expect you to meet with me to further discuss your performance in the mock battle. Over tea, perhaps. I should like to hear your own account, the official report can only tell me so much.”

“Yes father,” is his immediate response. It’s not a suggestion, even if it sounds very much like one, and he’ll expect a meal to go with it, which will go untouched. It’s all for the sake of appearances, not of any genuine desire to spend time with his only remaining son. “Shall I take your cloak?”

“In a moment.” There’s something Sylvain can’t quite decipher in his face, wouldn’t have been able to even if he had been able to hold the Margrave’s gaze. Something guarded, and perhaps… Concerned? It’s so foreign upon his face that Sylvain thinks he imagined it. “First, as you are doubtless already aware, the frequency of bandit attacks in the kingdom has been on the rise, more recently, an attempt was made upon Castle Gautier. While unsuccessful, we later learned that their target was the Hero’s Relic. I’m sure you’ve already drawn your own conclusions as to which group was responsible.”

He remembers fierce, covetous eyes flicking from him to the Lance and back, in time with the dull, deep read pulse of its beating heart. He remembers clenched fists that longed to reach for it and instead blackened his eyes. He remembers a threat sung to him like a promise, maybe I’ll be at the other end when it runs you through, brother.

“Miklan.”

Gullan’s head shifts in the smallest of nods, approval more at the way Sylvain lowers his voice than at his deduction, it’s the closest he’ll get to any form of praise. “Indeed. Skirmishes with Sreng have also been on the rise, all it would take is better timing on his part for him to be successful. We were lucky, I would not rely on such luck a second time.” A pause, a barely there stiffening of the Margrave’s shoulders. “The Relic has been instrumental in our defence of the border, but it will be as good as useless in the hands of bandits. Continuing to house it within Castle Gautier would be folly.”

Sylvain blinks, that would certainly explain the almost-but-not-quite hesitance. No doubt his father thought about this at length, and it’s in no way a decision he would make lightly. He keeps his voice low, head turned to one side, eyes flicking here and there to check for onlookers and eavesdroppers. “That’s why you’re here, then? To entrust the Relic to the Church?”

“No,” Gullan answers, just as quiet. Confused, Sylvain faces him again, and this time he’s met with a familiar gleam. It’s the other similarity they share, the one Sylvain gets during an excellent play on the chessboard, when all the pieces fall into place exactly where he needs them to be. This time, he can’t help but feel he is one of those pieces. “Kneel, Sylvain.”

The Margrave lifts his head, reaching to pull the Lance from his back. A quick glance before dropping to a knee, and Sylvain notes that a few passers by have paused to watch, it’s not every day they get to see a Relic, he supposes. Gullan holds the weapon lengthways across his chest – and Sylvain does his best to ignore the awful twitching – and extends his arms towards him.

“For your bravery in Almyra,” Gullan says, not loud, but solid and clear and definitely audible to the small gathering nearby, much to Sylvain’s chagrin, “and your performance in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, I deem you worthy of the Lance of Ruin.”

So, that’s his play.

“Rise, Sylvain Gautier, and accept your birth right.”

On shaking legs, Sylvain does as commanded, standing straight, shoulders back, and extends his hands palms held skyward. The Lance is pressed into them, and immediately he takes a sharp inhale through his nose in place of the gasp he wants to let out. It’s not as heavy as it looks, perhaps down to his blood that sings in his veins. The thing feels alive in his hands, thrumming like a heartbeat, and he grips it tight enough for his knuckles to whiten in answer. It makes his stomach turn.

“You honour me, father.” He’s relieved that his voice came out clear, rather than the breathless, sickly thing he certainly feels like.

“Guard it well.” The Margrave says, “that will be all for now. I will send word ahead of our later meeting, you are dismissed, Sylvain.”

“Yes father.” He knows better than to hesitate. He dips into a bow and turns, not pausing to chat with anyone who stares as he passes. Not pausing to even look for anyone he might know.

Not pausing to cast one look back over his shoulder, where Margrave Gautier watches his retreating back with a well-guarded sadness in his eyes and an apology that remains unspoken.

----------------------

[Sylvain receives The Lance of Ruin]

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

to all the boys i've loved before x fire emblem three houses

claude x reader

part five

xxx

October

Wyvern Moon

Fake dating, Claude Von Riegan was proving to be more of a chore than you had bargained for, as students bombarded you with questions on how your relationship came to fruition.

It was Hilda, who had to save you from the vultures circling around you that were looking for any reason to tear you apart. You mentally scolded yourself, of course, people would wonder about you and Claude, he is the heir to the leading house of the Lester Alliance. They probably thought you were social climbing, seeing as you're commoner.

You frowned, you'd never stoop so low to use someone just for their status and their crest. The reason you fell for Claude in the first place is because of his sweet personality. He was always supportive of his friends, sure, he'd tease them but it was all in good fun. He was charming, charismatic, and kind.

"Hello? Y/N?" Hilda said.

You focused your attention on Hilda, "Hmm?"

"Claude's looking for you." She said with a smirk playing on her lips, "Something about not being able to breathe without you..."

You blushed, why would he say something like that? He's such an idiot.

"I'll go find him." You mumbled as you went around Hilda.

Hilda giggled, "I always thought you two would look cute together, you know?" She waved at you, "Have fun."

You raised an eyebrow. She never mentioned that before, but before you could question her, Hilda had already left. Marches to her own drum, that one.

You spun on your heel, only to come face to face with Sylvain Gautier.

"S - Sylvain?!" You stuttered.

Now, you were panicking. You haven't seen Claude all day since you've signed the contract and here you are, with Sylvain infront you and will no doubt question you. You had no sweet fake note that Claude had promised to write you.... What would you do to get out of this predicament?

Professor Byleth wanted to see me, bye!

No, that would never work, you idiot!

"Hey, I've been meaning to talk t-" Sylvain stopped talking when he saw Claude envelope you in his arms and spun you around.

You shrieked, "Claude!"

You should've added, 'no manhandling' in the contract.

He winked at you but didn't let you go, if anything, he held you closer. He had also ignored Sylvain, who was watching awkwardly as Claude handed you a small piece of paper with a small heart next to your name.

Sylvain coughed loudly to get your attention and Claude, ever the actor and schemer, feigned innocence.

"Oh, sorry, Sylvain," Claude shifted his stance to be behind you as he laid his chin on top of your head, "Didn't you see you there."

You bit your lip and glanced at Sylvain.

"I wanted to talk to, Y/N -"

Claude interrupted him again, "Ah, well Sylvain, you see," he clicked his tongue, "we need to get to training. Teach's orders, right, sunshine?"

He was so suave when he lied, you couldn't keep up, so you just nodded in agreement.

"But-" Sylvain started.

Claude waved him off, "See ya, Sylvain."

He hooked his arm around your shoulder and led you away from the confused, Gautier.

You fiddled with your hands, "That was a little rude, don't you think?"

Claude leaned his head towards your ear, "I did what any other lover would've done if they saw a womanizer talking to his girlfriend." He whispered, "And last, I checked, sunshine, you wanted me to ward him off, remember?"

He was so undeniably close.

You wrapped your arms around your body, "I did, but I just feel bad for him..."

It's true, you did feel bad for Sylvain, it wasn't his fault the letters got out. It wasn't even your fault, and now, you couldn't fathom who would know about them, much less, send them.

Claude pushed open the door to enter the training ground, his hand sliding down your arm to hold it.

"A little late for cold feet, sunshine."

"It's not cold feet." You said as you entered the training grounds.

There you saw Dimitri, fighting both Felix and Dedue. He was excellent with a lance just as Felix was masterful with a sword while Dedue was incredible with an axe. It was because of this that they seemed so unapproachable, apart from Felix's cruel demeanor and Decide, quite literally telling to stay away from him for your own safety, and Dimitri was a prince that just made you want to keep your distance.

"Did you write them love letters too?" Claude joked when he caught you staring the three blue lions.

"Claude!" You glared at him.

Claude let out a hearty laugh, "Careful, sunshine, you'll make me jealous."

You were debating whether or not to burn him to cinders when he passed you a bow and arrow.

You shook your hands infront you, "I was thinking I'd observe today."

You didn't want to accidentally shoot someone in head.

Claude cocked his head to the side in thought, "Hmm?" Then, shook his head, "No, how will you learn if your learn if you never get hands on hands training?"

Your eye twitched slightly, "I have tried. I'm just not good at it."

Claude clicked his tongue in disapproval, "You'll never get better with that attitude," He pushed gently towards the targets, "Come on, I'm an excellent teacher."

You dug your heels to the ground, in an attempt to stop Claude, only to have him whisper in your ear: "It's in the contract, unless, of course, we're going to break the rules, then I'll kiss you infront of everyone again."

That's all it took for you to grab the bow and arrow out his hands.

Claude chuckled, however, no matter how amused he was with your reaction, he couldn't help but be a little insulted. He followed you, nonetheless with a smile.

You stood infront of the target and raised the bow, but stared at you wide eyed.

"No, no, sunshine." He face palmed.

You cheeks were dusted in a pink hue, "What?"

"Goddess, this is worse than I thought..." He walked up behind you, "Your stance is all wrong, your arm is sticking out, you'll no doubt hurt yourself with the string..." He said to himself in thought.

Claude sighed, "Alright, feet shoulder width apart... His hand rested on your waist as you followed his instructions, "You're right handed, so your left foot will be infront, yeah, just like that, sunshine."

You could your heartbeat slamming against your chest... You wondered if Claude could it hear it also, oh you hope he couldn't.

He could and he reveled at the thought of it; it was adorable.

Claude gently raised your chin, "Above your shoulders," his skimmed down to your spine, "Back straight... Now," He gripped the bow with one hand while the other pulled the string with his hand resting top of yours, "Aim..." He whispered.

You weren't staring at the target anymore, but at Claude, who was focused on the bullseye.

He moved the bow slightly upwards, "And shoot."

You were taken out of your trance when you heard a loud think as the arrow punctured the target.

"See?" Said Claude, "Easy." He then smirked, "You were paying attention, right?"

You blinked at the sight infront you, "Uh huh..." The blush adorning your cheeks brightened and turned deeper, "Of course, I did."

You hadn't, you were too busy staring at him to catch everything he said.

Claude grin widen, "Did you, now?" He said as he towered over you, "Thought it would be hard, since you were staring at me the whole time, but I guess if you say so..."

The idiot was teasing you, he noticed everything from your flushed cheeks to you not wanting be obvious about your affections for, well, anyone for that matter.

"I was not." You denied, you didn't know why, it was clear he saw you.

He chuckled, "Whatever you say, sunshine."

You huffed and averted your eyes from his.

You could feel the arrogance seep off him. Your reaction was stroking his already inflated ego .

"Shall we go, again?"