#brothersword

muse interaction hc :: accepting !

  Felicia and Lord Marx would treat eachother with a form of silent respect. While Felicia sees him as this powerful Nohrian figurehead, and the apparent heir to the throne, he would acknowledge her as a steady presence taking care of his little brother / sister.   The pressure of ruling would fill her with awe, and may intimidate her into avoiding him when alone (for fear of messing up in front of the future king – can you imagine?!). Her dedication to Lord Kamui / Lady Corrin, and to properly fulfilling her job regardless of failure, could possibly fuel his determination to try and try again. 

‘But promise me this. Come see me before the strain becomes too much to bear.’

That was the warning she heeded to the Prince those days ago. Perhaps they merely faded into nothingness as soon as they left the soothsayer’s lips. Perhaps her words had left some inkling of an impression for Xander to muse on. 

But regardless, instead of following her cautionary words, the eldest prince of Nohr had instead been doing well in digging himself further and further into his own demise. Physical or no. 

Though the might of his blade carving through the night’s air ( during practices he believe to be by himself ) and the tightened muscles that supported every strained ride into battle, every kill, every growing regret, grew in might with every passing day. 

Nyx thought there was little hope for the man. But a single, spontaneous summons certainly caught her attention. It could be nothing, a mere order, a correction, but she was curious to see.

“You summoned me, Prince Xander?”

5 times the love drabbles | Just about always accepting 

I- When they meet there’s a sword at his neck, pink and blue hair tickling his nose. He stares at Inigo, the figure looming above him calls the boy “Laslow.” He’s accused of trespassing, of attempting to steal information, silly things he would never do. When he counters that he’s never heard of this Nohr or Hoshido, the figure falters, stares at him like he’s insane. Inigo says nothing. The man, Lord Marx they call him, lets him go free on the condition that he join their army. As he walks away, Rem makes a mental note to prove his worth to Marx no matter what it takes.

II- They spar multiple times, Rem utilizing his smaller size and lack of armor to dodge the heavy sword coming at him from almost all directions. He had to admit, the royal (a fact he had learned after Inigo and the others had caught him up to speed with the situation) was extremely agile for his size and amount of armor. They end the skirmish right before they impale the other, Rem’s dark-magic cloaked hand sizzling before Marx’s chest over his heart and the royal’s sword poking into his stomach. They shake hands admirably and he catches the slightest glimpse of what might just be a smile and he’s stunned, left standing, frozen on the battlefield, his cheeks burning red.

III- He admits to himself that he at least finds the prince attractive if nothing else, huffing indignantly at the fact that he might have developed a little puppy-crush. Going all-out in the next battle, it’s just his luck that Marx finds him clutching his bleeding arm, staggering away from a seemingly invisible enemy. He expects the prince to leave him to die, just collateral damage. Instead, he finds himself seated on the horse in front of the other, pressed against his chest and protected from the buffering winds. Trying to calm his blushing cheeks, Rem found himself despairing that he might have truly and fully fallen in love.

IV- It’s not his best plan by a long shot, but avoiding the lord is all Rem can think to do. If he could just never sees that smile again then perhaps it could sink into his brain that such a love was foolish. What he doesn’t expect is for the prince himself to come after him, to hunt him down and demand to know why he was running away. Mind scrambled in shock, Rem simply lets the words fly. Before he realizes it, “I love you” is hanging in the air between them. Time stopped, but when the prince let out a sigh of relief and kissed him, it seemed to to rush through years of his life, all passing before his eyes. He passes out and they laugh about it when he wakes up with his head in Marx’s lap.

five times the love.

i.     laslow presents himself with a flourish at the feet of the throne in castle krakenburg. he wears his smile like a smarter man would wear armor – it is bright and polished, perfect and practiced for greeting royalty.

                          This is gospel for the VAGABONDS           NE'ER-DO-WELLS and INSUFFERABLE BASTARDS                                       ( Confessing their apostasies )                           Led away by IMPERFECT IMPOSTORS