𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄 . / BURN .

“ Heh, you know . . If anyone saw us here alone together... People’ll start to talk. ”

“Sylvain?” Ashe sounds reserved, the boy afraid to overstep. Yet all the same he decides to take a leap & place the plate of cookies he’d made in front of Sylvain. “I won’t pretend to know anything about what your family’s like, but…doing something like that is never easy.” It’s nearly two moons & Ashe still finds himself ringing his hands ragged to wash them of what he’s done. As more time passes, he’s certain Lonato’s blood will never be clean of them. “So if you need anything, anything at all, you can count on me.”

This wasn’t anything different from what he has always lived with. He was filled with that selfsame guilt of having been born at all with this stupid crest that made this his reality and he’ll carry those chains around his ankles until the very day hell welcomes its gates to him. Yet he cannot deny that this ache made things more difficult for him. He’ll stare at his hand and remember the grip he had on his lance and how much strength it took to puncture the Black Beast’s rubbery flesh. He’ll bend his fingers and remember the roar that was punched out of Miklan, and how it still echoed, and if he listened closely to how his anguish rung against the walls like a church bell sounding the new hour, he’d hear his name, his last words. It had to be done and he knew it had to be done and who else could have done this and yet, and yet, he wonders if he deserved that end instead. So he closed his fist and stopped looking at his damn hand and damned the system for making this reality his own — had he not been born with this crest, if the world was different, would he have lived?

It was hard to accept any condolence. It was hard to stomach the sympathy when he knew full well that this was all so complicated. It was harder, even, to act like it hurt him in a way others thought it did, when he had always, always, had felt this guilt and Miklan’s death almost came as a relief — and it’s complicated that it’s not quite that either. Sylvain cursed at the way things had to be instead and didn’t mourn the loss of a brother, but the fact it had to happen at all, and he’d do it again.

when they're sleeping

A slow crawl trailing away – an aversion in favor of the gravel besides, as though it were the most interesting thing in the world right now. Felix… just wasn’t built for this – this outing that Sylvain cajoled them to do under the guise of importance (which wasn’t wholly a lie, rather – not the whole truth either). Arms cross as Sylvain’s eyes trail from vendor to vendor – the marketplace abuzz even in the midst of war. And Felix was growing unnerved by the second.

     “ … “ 

Thus, like any other (as in no possible other person) in his position – his sight settles upon the weapon wares just beside. Arms lower from where they were crossed as a gleam from a sword captures his immediate attention. With little warning, or so much as a single indication to his intention, Felix walks off – drawn by the potential of a blade bleeding with value.

Upon often seeing piles and piles of bodies and blood, sometimes a simple errand is well deserved, as trivial as some may see it. Sylvain found the excursion quite fun all things considered—twice as much since he managed to rope Felix into it and brand it as a date more than a chore. It was nice seeing the livelihood of townsfolk and walk a path of normalcy if even for a moment.

So he rambles, and rambles, and talks, and talks, and is often met with one worded replies and sometimes just the grunt of sighed responses from the man next to him. Although, there comes a moment where that silence almost felt undeserved.

gives him a very soft kissy on the lips >_>

It was so innocent, and pure, and unlike anything he has seen his hands do. It was startling, and it scared him, and there was something that made it hurt in spite of. Maybe it was because this felt so different than what he was used to, haphazard kisses, teeth tugging his lips, words whispers against the wet of his lips that blurred with every voice he has felt against his skin— this was gentle, this was genuine. Sylvain can’t shake the feeling of having felt Dimitri’s lips tremble against his and kissing him like they were so new to this, and maybe the crown prince of  Faerghus was, but he wasn’t. He knew what kisses meant at this point. He knew that when  somebody wanted more of him, they’d keep going, they’d touch him, they wanted more of what Sylvain had to offer so they drank up every bit of poison he’d bleed into them and he’d feed, and feed, until they drowned in it and saw him for what the rumors spoke of him, until they saw the flames that Sylvain would light and burn himself in to prove a point to someone and anything. Dimitri was different. Dimitri knew him. His hands shied from touching him. His lips pulled away from his own. Dimitri held restraint because he knew and it was scarier than anything. 

After restlessly searching Dimitri’s face, Sylvain lets out an exasperated chuckle, letting their foreheads touch. “ And who taught you that one, huh? ”

"So, about that date." He said it so casually, an easy grin gracing their lips. "Don't tell me you forgot about it now."

It takes practice and the dedication of a loyalist to truly master the art of self sabotage by acts of social mutilation. Another tack nicks the board. Another unsuccessful date executed by yours truly, matter of fact, blurred and crammed besides several other tacks pressed into the metaphorical cork board — each tack a representation of how many he’s scored today like he was a medalist in scoring skirts and these were his awards, but they were just tacks. They bore no name, no significance, nothing stands out, nothing meant anything to him, and the board kept piling up in tacks, and more tacks, and each time his hand cups a woman’s hip another tack, and each time he spreads his palm underneath her dress another tack—

That smile he wore was always the same. 

Private and selective Sylvain Jose Gautier from Fire Emblem: Three Houses. As portrayed by Castle.  /   Ask. Rules. About.   /  Please like / reblog if you’re interested in interacting! :) I’d love to check you all out!

Cracking down on Sylvain’s C-support with Byleth ,

You think I’d cheat? On you, baby? Never. Come on, you should know me better than that.

  - to an NPC.

I think it’s really funny he’d say something like this. ‘ You should know me better than that. ‘ Is , such a good line that immediately , without the reader even realizing at first , what type of character he is and how his relationships with women specifically go.

Thing is , what I imagine , is that people already assume so much about him. What I believe and strongly hold to is that Sylvain is known as a playboy, he’s known as a scumbag that sleeps around and tosses women around like used rags. So to say , ‘ You should know me better than that ‘ is a direct , petty jab at the fact that you should’ve expected this , I am manipulating you.

To elaborate , I feel as though a lot of his relationships with women , what they hope to achieve is to . . More or less , ‘ fix ‘ him .Or that maybe they’d specifically have a real chance with him , that they’re the one he’d actually fall for. That they are the exception. Which is why Sylvain doesn’t feel guilty in using them. They should know what they’re getting into , so he feels justified in using that.

I will mention that this definitely will not always be the case , but Sylvain believes it is. He convinces himself this is always the case , among other things.

Oh, I get it. If I’m not your type, do you want me to introduce you to some other guys who have Crests? They’re all nobles, just like me.

This also exemplifies the fact that Sylvain only believes he’s chased after for his nobility/crest. He’ll rub that in their face , he’ll only believe that’s what they’re after him for. He’s petty. He will turn that around on you , because he only believes that’s why you’re after him.

He’ll play with you. Entertain you. Then toss you aside.

I just want you to be happy. You know, get what you’re after. I hate seeing a girl cry, especially one as beautiful as you.

Yeah he’s just being an asshole here. But he’s not. Technically lying. Well , more or less , it’s complicated. He genuinely loves women! However , his feelings towards them are . . Muddied with paranoia , anger , paranoia. Yet , the same can be said about his feelings towards everyone , but more so those who aim to worm into his heart. It’s a bad retaliation , a poor defense mechanism to keep himself safe. Which is funny , because it’s like he wallows himself in such a miserable wormhole in some sort of self-justified charade to prove something.

Then we jump to his conversation with Byleth ,

Anyway, I don’t know why she’s so upset about me dating other girls. She didn’t care before she found out, why does she care now? I really do hate seeing a girl cry. (…) Come on. It’s hard on me too! If only I had someone to comfort me. Professor? It’s OK if you want to console me… I happen to have some exquisite tea back in my quarters. You could come by, and…we could chat about love.

Funnily enough , he hates Byleth. He does not like Byleth. His feelings towards Byleth specifically are just as muddied and complicated as his with his romantic flings. (I’ll elaborate his relationship with Byleth in a separate post)

I believe that , he also uses this manner of speaking to not only draw people in , but to steer them away. He weaponizes flowery language and romance. Sylvain never explicitly uses vulgar language , he’s never outright mean and cusses you out , he lathers you with pretty words and a smile that never reaches his burnt out eyes. He knows how to make you lose interest and leave him alone. He knows how to ward people away. He also knows how to keep them close. He’s very smart.

Sylvain is a manipulator. Sylvain feels justified in his behavior and seldom feels guilt. If he does feel guilt , it’s drowned in other feelings ; anger , jealousy , bitterness.