prince of chalphy

anyways, sigurd never really left toa, however narratively i am doing something a little different. he was a knight of seiros before but got heavily injured while away on a mission for the church. the injury itself is a wound on his sword arm that prevents him from bending his arm correctly— with lots of pain involved if he tries to fight like he normally does.

the church is giving him somewhat of a sabbatical for having to deal with this, and is letting him teach as a professor while he recovers which is.. hopefully a lot more chill while not keeping him bedridden. for the most part he will be teaching students how to be a horse girl horseriding as well as the sword, though more focus will be on the horse girl part.  he chose the black eagles because of deirdre's presence in the house.

virtuoustyrfing​:

seliph doesn’t step back   &   peer from behind the white horse. at first, he only assumes the voice belongs to one of the stablehands in the monastery’s employ. or perhaps a student like himself; he did hear the academy delegates students to tasks around the grounds. but don’t such chores fall to the early morning   &   late afternoon hours? regardless, the scion hopes his presence won’t disturb them.

the horse neighs.   &   the very same voice soon addresses seliph. he turns to the stranger, smiling, with reassurances already on his tongue. yet, his smile drops  /  the words die in his throat. blue eyes widen ever so slightly in disbelief. could it be…?

“fa—” father, seliph almost says but stops himself. uncertainty gnaws at his mind.

      (does your father even know who you are? wouldn’t a father recognize his child?)

“it’s all right. i believed i was the only one here  ———  aside from the horses, of course,” seliph settles on with a shake of his head. a small but hesitant smile graces his lips.

his gaze returns to celice.   &   oh, it now hits seliph how close her name is to his! “yes, i suppose… she reminds me of my own.” perhaps it isn’t such a coincidence she resembles the horse he left back on the jugdrali soil. if it weren’t for the subtle differences, seliph could almost mistake her for the same breed the lords of house chalphy favor.

the young man falls into awkward silence. what is he even supposed to say? never once in seliph’s life would he have imagined himself standing before his father like this. his father, who, by some miracle, is alive. alive and well and here to feed his steed, by the looks of it——

baldr’s scion backs away a few steps. “oh, i’m sorry! i must have been in your way.”

he sets the wooden pails down for only a moment, figuring to take a moment to converse with the student that reminds him so deeply of his own son. "horses are very intelligent, you know. you might as well have been talking with a real person." he says with as honest a laugh he can manage.

his heart does not settle, even when he wishes it would. the thought of finally seeing his son again— not only that but to see him grown was not something he could simply pass over. when he had left seliph with oifey and shannan before belhalla, sigurd had never imagined seeing his family again.

he expected death, after all.

nagaficat​:

Deirdre watches in horror as this knight clashes with her beloved. She worries for him. She always worries for him. As strong and capable as she knows her husband is, she still cannot stand to see him put in harm’s way.

It is worse when she is unable to help him. She has no staff with which to mend his wounds. The only thing in her hands is a very sinister looking lance. Like the armor she’s been dressed in and the horse she rides, the lance is black as night. She has no ill will toward this knight and no desire to see her harmed, but if she will not stand down and keeps threatening Sigurd, Deirdre sees no other option.

“My love!” Her voice is loud over the sounds of lances clashing together. “I shall come to your aid!”

She cannot sit back and watch any longer. Deirdre urges her own steed into the fray and tries to reason with the woman so insistent on fighting him.

“Please, my lady knight! We do not wish to fight you! We are simply trying to find our way home!”

The knight turns her lance to Deirdre and speaks in a low growl. “After what you’ve done, I cannot allow you to simply walk away. You will answer for your crimes!”

Deirdre screams as the knight’s lance lunges toward her.

BLOOD / DEATH TW

“stop!” comes his shout as the knight turns her lance to deirdre. he has not a clue of what’s going on but the woman seems to think deirdre is her enemy— for what reason? deirdre could not hurt a fly. he grits his teeth in frustration, hurrying to intercept the fight before his beloved can obtain a single injury.

thankfully he is able to intercept again— just barely in time— using the length of his lance to push the woman away from his wife. “why are you trying to hurt her!?” he shouts, demanding for answers. anything to explain why deirdre seemed to be the woman’s enemy. the woman in turn frowns, gripping her lance even tighter. “sir knight, your bleeding heart has always been a weakness. you must let me destroy her— before she lays waste to the people again!” her answer only brings about more confusion.  “i can’t let you hurt her. it’s either you let her go or i take your life instead!” a threat— a threat that sigurd does not think much about but emboldens the knight enough to charge against him. “very well.  then i will get rid of the obstacle in my way first!”

she fights properly against him now, and sigurd raises his lance to block the flurry of strikes she unleashes upon him. he feels so sluggish against her but he must protect his wife. he would die if it meant she would live after him. 

sigurd gasps as his lance flies from his hands, with the knight using a clever jab up to get rid of his weapon. with no weapon in hand he remains vulnerable, but he still attempts to dodge every strike following. it remains futile. for sigurd blinks and suddenly a lance’s blade is in his gut.

blood pools at his injury and follows as the knight rips her lance out of him. he falls to the ground on his knees, with one hand supporting his weight and the other supporting his injury. another gasp but this time the blood comes with.

august 2022  → passed

skill points  → 37 to 38

ashenprofessor​:

That was mildly irritating. She got that saints were supposed to move in mysterious ways but being able to locate them would have been helpful. “That lines up with the answers I’ve received too” She told the Knight in commiseration. “I didn’t ask around the Monastery much so as not to cause alarm but reports indicated Serios has been spotted in the town rather than there”

Sigurd’s plan of following the rush of people was better than anything the Professor could think of doing so they nodded their assent and headed in that direction. As they joined the crowd, Byleth could overhear some of them exchanging the name ‘Serios” in hushed whispers. “I think we’re heading in the right direction” She informed Sigurd. Arriving in a square, people joined the small crowd which had already formed around a person sat on a bench, wearing white robes. “Do you think its Serios?”

a gathering of loyal followers, if sigurd were to make a guess about what the sight before him was. he watches with a curious gaze, sticking a bit closer to byleth in order to talk without drawing too much attention to themselves.

though it didn’t seem like the crowd was paying attention to anything other than the figure in the middle. “well, there’s only one way to find out. come on.” sigurd nods his head towards her before pushing his way through the crowd, assuming that byleth would naturally follow along. the people around him barely budge but eventually he makes it to a point where he can get a close look at the religious figure.

"I suppose it is pointless to have you swear to me you will not get yourself hurt like this again."

With a sigh she leans in and kisses him. Julian runs excitedly in circles around the two of them until they are both wrapped in his leash. But Deirdre does not mind. She has no intention of letting Sigurd stray from her side again.

if there is ever one thing that brings him right back to full happiness it's seeing his wife after being separated from her for a long while. sigurd cannot help the smile that slides onto his face nor the warmth that spreads on his cheeks as deirdre hugs him.

luxichor​:

     Linoan chuckles along with the man, loathe to impose her opinion on someone she hardly knows, but unable to hide her agreement. “Indeed. Something softer—no, lighter… I think it truly suits you.” 

     Even with the legendary moniker of Holy Knight, and his role in history as Seliph’s father, the very Scion of Light himself… more than anything of those things, she could see that Lord Sigurd was simply a man. Enamored with his beloved, and a person with strong morals, as well as a clear sense of integrity. Truly a fine precedent for anyone to follow after.

     To his offer, she politely waves him off. “Oh, no! It was my pleasure, truly. You needn’t waste any more of your time on me. I believe I have a good idea of which fabrics I wish to use for my dress… surely you have more important things, or people, to attend to?”

they had only just met, but sigurd somehow felt that she knew him deeper beyond first impressions with the way she talked about how it would suit him.  she didn’t know him personally— this was their first time meeting. knowing that he apparently grew a reputation in the future did not help calm such an idea.

ladyleonster​:

njorunheir​:

   Quan of course reciprocates the kiss, delighting in the knowledge that he could embrace her like this. They were not dead, and their story would not end at the hands of Travant and his goons. The overwhelming joy damn near brings him to tears, but the surprise overtakes it at the voice booming out behind him. The hand resting against his wife’s stained cheek falls away, allowing her to take the hint that they would need to break apart for now. Ever the open book she had been known to be, the disappoint was clear on her face.   

   He would have to make up for it later, when they were all safe and someplace they could sit and talk. Now was the time for heartfelt reunions, not just with Ethlyn, but his brother and most dear friend. “Sigurd, you’re here too!” He quakes in delight, fumbling to his shaky feet attempting to meet the man standing before him. Bringing the man into a tight embrace, he notices the bear hug he intended to give was significantly weaker. If fact, all of his muscles seemed to ache at any and all motions he bade them make. “Good god I would hope so! I don’t want to meet the man who looks dashing after what I’ve been through.” He quips, a smirk and jest to hide the growing unease his body had presented him.   

   "That’s not important now though. What’s important is that we’re here, together. It seems like I’ve been away for a while… So thank you both for holding out hope for me.“

"Don’t push yourself…”  Ethlyn tries to warn him as he starts to get up. His steps are shaky and unsure but she watches as he makes his way to embrace her brother, looking for any sign of lingering injury. It isn’t easy to scold him while she’s just so happy he’s here. 

She joins the two men in their embrace.  Everything is going to be alright. “I would never give up on you, love. I’d wait until the end of time if I had to." 

Suddenly, pink eyes light up. She and Sigurd are far from the only people here who will be happy to see him but there are two in particular her husband needs to know about immediately. "Quan, Leif is here, too.” She looks up at him, face beaming. “Our son, Quan.  I can’t explain how it’s possible but our little boy is a student here.  He’s all grown up–only a few years younger than I am.”

@divinetyrfing

“i’m just glad you’re alive.” sigurd shuts his eyes, savoring the hug. he can feel tears begin to form in the corner of his eyes, for sigurd had never expected to feel the both of them like this ever again. for so long he had been racked with guilt for not being there with them, for being the reason that they had died. sigurd’s smile as he lets go of the of them is softer, more fragile than his usual.

he looks between the two of them, for it still does not feel real.  “that’s right. this place is quite strange actually. time and time again it seems to defy all known logic. both people from our future and our past are here.”

ashenprofessor​:

Byleth wasn’t the most religious person in Fòdlan. In fact, growing up her father had actively avoided the Church, telling her to be wary of interacting with the clergy and their affiliates. But she had been learning a lot about the continents primary faith since she’d begun teaching so even she was aware that Saint Serios had been gone from the land for centuries. Hence, the immediate skepticism about these new rumours.

Usually Byleth would have left it at that, but some very unsubtle proofing from Sothis, the Professor had resigned herself to investigating these rumours. Heading into the town to ask the townsfolk some questions Byleth was just pondering who to ask first when someone bumped into her back. “Oh!” She exclaimed about to chastise the carless person when she recognised them.

“Hello Sigurd” Greeting the knight, familiar after their past interactions. An impromptu competition involving some lances spring to mind. In regard to his question. “I haven’t I’m afraid. I was just about to start searching for the ‘Saint Serios’ myself” Sigurd made a good point that working together would be beneficial. “We might find her quicker if we investigate together. Have you got any leads?” 

“i was afraid that would be your answer.” sigurd lets out a disappointed sigh, for this saint seiros seemed so illusive. “i’ve asked around a few places. they’ve all said they know of her but haven’t seen her around.” he crosses his arms together in a combination of frustration and thought. “i tried looking around in the obvious places like the church and what not, but as far as i can tell she’s pretty picky about the places she goes around here.”

braveryinblue​:

Of course it had to be a godsdamned dragon.

Because Hector clearly hasn’t had enough of the beasts. Clearly.

“Move it!” he shouts, ushering some children along. “Move it or lose it!” He kind of feels like this is a waste of his talents - of which he does not consider there to be many, exactly, but of those he does have… well, fighting is up there. He is much greater a warrior than he is some silly man running about trying to evacuate storybook characters who probably don’t even really exist. Probably.

The last of this batch of children disappear down the cobblestone path heading out of the village, toward the wall. All right. Well enough of that.

“The village will be burnt and your precious villagers will be reduced to cinders,” Hector pipes up irritably as he catches up to Sigurd and the Knight - both right where he’d last seen them quite some time ago, feels like.

And then, as though right on cue, the dragon streaks overhead, its next burst of flame preceded by an earth-shaking roar. The fire splits, and demolishes no less than three small buildings - and that’s without noting that they still, you know, catch fire after the fact.

Hector gestures animatedly, conscious of the mounting urgency of the situation. “If you don’t want to fight it, that’s bloody well fine,” he growls, “but at the least do everyone a favour and get out of the way.” Brows set in a hard furrow, he eyes Sigurd and nods toward the dragon- “C’mon. Let’s go.” - and forcefully brushes past the knight, who yet stammers and pleads and begs.

please! you musn’t! don’t hurt him! please–!

thankfully it seems he is not the only one to be transported into this strange book. sigurd finally pulls his arm out of the knight’s grasp as hector scolds him for being in the way.  “i’m sorry, it must be done.” he passingly nods to the knight before running after hector as fire blazes around him.

 “woah!” sigurd gasps as he ducks under the flames that the dragon shoots, utterly demolishing a building right behind him. the heat stings, reminds him of belhalla, but he pushes forward despite it. finally the dragon lands before them with a loud and mighty roar, blocking them from going any further.

nagaficat​:

“If that is the case, then why does every story include a knight in shining armor rescuing the princess so that they may live happily ever after!” She has no problem teasing him right back and leans as close to him as the swell of her pregnancy allows. It truly is wonderful to be able to lie here with him like this without worrying about hurting Arvis. She can truly enjoy Sigurd’s company for the first time.

Deirdre leans her forehead against his and allows their noses to touch. “You looked so handsome in your wedding suit. It was like I had stepped into a dream! You have no idea how difficult it was to not immediately run into your arms!”

Of course, the dream quickly turned into a nightmare but she chooses not to focus on that part. She would rather remember how dashing he had been and how the Projectionist somehow knew exactly what he had worn on the day of their wedding. There are paintings done to commemorate her wedding to Arvis, but she has no such mementos of when she was joined with Sigurd.

“alright, you got me there.” sigurd replies back with a huff of a laugh. no where is he happier than when he’s with his wife, this much is obvious by the fond smile on his face as deirdre leans her head against his. he still doesn’t know how he’d functioned without her all those gran— especially with a child to take care of.

nagaficat​:

“No,” Deirdre laughs and lays back against his pillows. “I certainly would not!” A wry smile spreads across her lips and she reaches for Sigurd’s hand to kiss the tips of his fingers. “I would make you explain it. That would be the chivalrous thing to do, I think. Surely a true knight would not allow his lady to speak of such things!”

He is right, though, and she knows it. She is in no state to do much of anything and she should be encouraging his bed rest! “Perhaps not now then. But I want you to know that I am ready. I would be your wife again, my lord. May I at least stay awhile? You could hold me close and whisper in my ear.”

"a true knight wouldn't be doing those things to his lady in the first place." sigurd replies back with a teasing grin tugging at his lips. "but then i guess i'm your beloved before i'm your knight, so it doesn't matter, does it?"

nagaficat​:

“Lord Sigurd, there is something I must confess.”  The hand cupping his cheek slides down to his chin and draws his face nearer to hers.  She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, threatening to burst right through it.  They had spoken briefly about what she is about to suggest on the night of the Ethereal Ball and she knows he will not deny her, but she is still so very anxious.  “I did not come here to simply check on your wellbeing.”

He has promised her before that he would never leave her.  That their love would overcome any obstacles thrown their way.  But she still is haunted in her dreams by faceless hooded figures threatening to erase everything she holds dear once again.  If she could come so close to losing him while fighting by his side and willing her healing powers to keep him alive, what could happen the next time he must go on a mission without her?

“I want to be yours again, my love.”

"what is it?" sigurd asks with all his attention on her. he blinks in surprise as he's pulled even closer to her . he can feel his heart beat faster than ever over the way she holds him, the way she looks at him and only him. he knows instantly what she means, he was allegedly not stupid after all, but sigurd still hesitates.

"i want nothing more than that, my love." he starts, staring straight back at her with nothing but love in his gaze. he had dreamed of this kind of thing ever since he'd arrived at the monastery— that he would one day see his wife again and make love with her. it doesn't quite feel real now, not with everything that made their relationship as complicated as it is.