Ship/Member: Jeonghan centric + Seungcheol/Jisoo/Jeonghan Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: fire emblem three houses AU, self-denial, pikachu meme if pikachu understood the human condition Permission to remix: Yes
***
Jeonghan has always been easy to love.
He was his mother’s favourite, because he always paused in his path when she reached out to run her fingers through his hair. He was the servants’ favourite, because he rarely made requests, and only did so with a polite lilt to his voice and the most courteous of words. To the local lords, he was by far the favourite of the younger generation, for he sat quietly during church and listened to the sermon with a small smile.
It was easy to be loved, when one knew what people wanted. His mother wanted reassurance and attention, for his father was either absent from home or preoccupied by business. The servants wanted peace and gratitude, for they were kept busy by people who never looked them in the eye. And the local lords, they wanted to see obedience, to know that the next generation was devout to the same goddess, faithful to the same cause.
Jeonghan is young when his father takes him to the Choi estate, but not too young because he is able to think: this is my father’s friend. And when he meets Choi Seungcheol, the five year old snotty-nosed, cherry-lipped boy with heavy lashes and a heavier pout, Jeonghan thinks — and this is my friend.
And then later, as Seungcheol wrestles him into the grass in the Choi estate gardens, ruining Jeonghan’s braided hair and throwing one of his shoes into the fountain, Jeonghan thinks, I suppose we could be friends.
And then later, as they both learn to how to curry a horse, to polish a sword, to twist a lance into a straw man, Jeonghan thinks —
Here is a boy who needs to win.
Here is a boy who needs me to see him win.
And then later, as they learn to twist the neck of a hare so that it dies in an instant, when Jeonghan wipes the tears from Seungcheol’s eyes and the blood from his hand, Jeonghan thinks —
Here is a boy who contains no darkness.
Here is a boy who must defend the weak.
And then later, as Jeonghan talks him into running away from their governess, from the reason class which Seungcheol hates, as they hide together in the reading room which no one uses, as Seungcheol grasps his hand with both of his own and looks at Jeonghan with an earnestness so bright, it feels inconsolable.
You’re an angel, Seungcheol says.
And Jeonghan thinks —
Oh.
And then, oh no.
Jeonghan had always found it easy to see through people.
Seungcheol’s father sends him briefs on each student enrolled at Garreg Mach. Seungcheol brushes it aside in favour of shopping for new axe handles. Jeonghan picks up the pages from Seungcheol’s breakfast table.
Jeon Wonwoo. Empire noble, oldest son, but his father was the youngest of three. Jihoon had seen him at the harvest day feast, reading a book half hidden under the table. Jeonghan knows his type. Born into responsibility, but preferring to avoid it. He will be impressionable and eager to defer to authority.
Kwon Soonyoung. Alliance commoner, son of a steelworker, danced so well at the solstice festivities that even Kingdom peasants heard of his hips. But new money is fragile money, and Soonyoung will be pressured to succeed and cement his family’s fortunes. Being a commoner, he will not have the same education of the noble children, and will struggle in class. A weakness Jeonghan will exploit.
Wen Junhui. Stateless. Little was known of him, except that he is currently a guest in the Kim estate. The Kims had adopted Xu Minghao a decade prior, a war refugee who bore the crest of Indech. There was a motive there, but the grander ambition Jeonghan needs to sniff out, for the Kims was an old Empire family near the Kingdom border.
One month into the semester, Jeonghan overplays his hand in a fishing competition that leaves Xu Minghao teary-eyed, Kim Mingyu hard-pressed, and Wen Junhui turning on his heel and striding the other way.
Fine, Jeonghan thinks, espionage can wait a few more moons. He decides to forsake his duties entirely and indulge in the freedom of academy life, lounging in the sun by the fishing pond, reading books stolen from Professor Jeritza’s desk.
But curiosity maintains the habit of pilfering the reports from Seungcheol’s father. Reports of changing political winds, shifts in voting blocs in the Emperor’s cabinet, a new student enrolling abruptly.
Hong Jisoo. Bastard son of a margrave, raised as a commoner. Mother was a prominent figure in the western church but recently assassinated by separatists, Jisoo to be transferred to Garreg Mach as a ward of the church. Diplomatic hostage, Jeonghan reads between the lines. He knows how the cards fall when the greater powers wrestle.
Every sentence is a collection of troubled traits Jeonghan is gleeful to analyse. He expects Jisoo to be broody, resentful. Raised on the edges of privilege but never a beneficiary of it. It would sting, to be perennially aware of the much you can never have. Kids like Jisoo tend to be outcasts, fated to recreate the exile they were born into.
Jeonghan catches a glimpse of Jisoo when Mingyu takes him on a tour of the grounds. Jeonghan gives a light wave and his friendliest smile from his perch by the pond, but Mingyu purses his lips and hurries Jisoo along, face darkening as he whispers in Jisoo’s ear.
But Jisoo’s face does not change, he smiles back at Jeonghan, pleasant as the summer wind and shallow as an hour’s frost. The crinkle by his eye is impermeable, suggesting amicability and nothing further. The tilt of his head exactly enough to be kind but not inquiring. The perfect pilgrim, Jeonghan thinks. A face you could confess to.
They shared faith classes, Jisoo far more proficient than Jeonghan ever will be, spells practised into mantras. But Jeonghan has a habit of keeping his eyes open during the Archbishop’s prayers for he was neither devout nor conformist. And so he sees amidst the bowed heads, Hong Jisoo with his chin held high, mouth hard and eyes even harder, staring into the stained glass with a bitterness that could only belong to the unbelieving.
Jeonghan thinks — Here is a boy who hides his darkness.
Here is a boy I want to befriend.
It takes Jeonghan a few attempts to wriggle into Jisoo’s spheres. Jisoo is busy after their faith class, Minghao steers him away from Jeonghan’s table in the dining hall, and Jisoo is a stellar student who should be tutoring rather than tutored. It takes a fortuitous assignment of stable duty before Jeonghan is able to talk to Jisoo proper. Like most students born of the common class, Jisoo has never been taught to ride or groom. Jeonghan takes the curry brush from Jisoo’s hand and teaches him how to brush a horse, how to carry gentleness in a hand and home in a voice. And then later, Jeonghan teaches him how to sneak into the saunas without a teacher, which of the stray cats were the friendliest, and when the kitchen serves the best meals.
And then later, Jeonghan introduces Hong Jisoo to Choi Seungcheol, and sees the way Jisoo’s breath catches, how his eyes linger on Seungcheol’s face and hold a hurricane of longing beneath a practised smile. Jeonghan thinks —
Here is a boy who wants a boy who wants me.
Here is a boy I can teach to be wanted.
And so, Jeonghan teaches Jisoo everything about Seungcheol and watches the adoration bloom in his eyes. How Seungcheol’s favourite meal were the meat skewers and least favourite was the peach sorbet. The tribulations of Seungcheol’s first hunt and first ride. How Seungcheol was driven to win at all costs yet refused to fight needlessly. How he was a boy who contained no darkness and could not see the darkness within people.
And later, Jeonghan teaches Jisoo when to watch Seungcheol’s practice, how to time his praise so that Seungcheol is the proudest, what to say and how to say it. Which classes Seungcheol detests, and would inevitably ask to copy homework. Which merchant sold Seungcheol’s favourite whetstone and when they restocked. All details which Jeonghan knew like the contours of his own hand, retelling with the familiarity of his own life. It was Jeonghan’s joy, to share his stories with Jisoo, to sit with him in the lazy sunlight on stolen afternoons, his own head resting on Jisoo’s lap and gazing upwards at the boy who was so beautiful it puts the heart in his chest on wings. Jeonghan thinks
I want you to be never lonely again. I want you to be safe. I want you to understand me as I understand you.
[REMIX] my will across the sky in stars
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: fire emblem three houses AU, self-denial, pikachu meme if pikachu understood the human condition
Permission to remix: Yes
***
Jeonghan has always been easy to love.
He was his mother’s favourite, because he always paused in his path when she reached out to run her fingers through his hair. He was the servants’ favourite, because he rarely made requests, and only did so with a polite lilt to his voice and the most courteous of words. To the local lords, he was by far the favourite of the younger generation, for he sat quietly during church and listened to the sermon with a small smile.
It was easy to be loved, when one knew what people wanted. His mother wanted reassurance and attention, for his father was either absent from home or preoccupied by business. The servants wanted peace and gratitude, for they were kept busy by people who never looked them in the eye. And the local lords, they wanted to see obedience, to know that the next generation was devout to the same goddess, faithful to the same cause.
Jeonghan is young when his father takes him to the Choi estate, but not too young because he is able to think: this is my father’s friend. And when he meets Choi Seungcheol, the five year old snotty-nosed, cherry-lipped boy with heavy lashes and a heavier pout, Jeonghan thinks — and this is my friend.
And then later, as Seungcheol wrestles him into the grass in the Choi estate gardens, ruining Jeonghan’s braided hair and throwing one of his shoes into the fountain, Jeonghan thinks, I suppose we could be friends.
And then later, as they both learn to how to curry a horse, to polish a sword, to twist a lance into a straw man, Jeonghan thinks —
Here is a boy who needs to win.
Here is a boy who needs me to see him win.
And then later, as they learn to twist the neck of a hare so that it dies in an instant, when Jeonghan wipes the tears from Seungcheol’s eyes and the blood from his hand, Jeonghan thinks —
Here is a boy who contains no darkness.
Here is a boy who must defend the weak.
And then later, as Jeonghan talks him into running away from their governess, from the reason class which Seungcheol hates, as they hide together in the reading room which no one uses, as Seungcheol grasps his hand with both of his own and looks at Jeonghan with an earnestness so bright, it feels inconsolable.
You’re an angel, Seungcheol says.
And Jeonghan thinks —
Oh.
And then, oh no.
Jeonghan had always found it easy to see through people.
Seungcheol’s father sends him briefs on each student enrolled at Garreg Mach. Seungcheol brushes it aside in favour of shopping for new axe handles. Jeonghan picks up the pages from Seungcheol’s breakfast table.
Jeon Wonwoo. Empire noble, oldest son, but his father was the youngest of three. Jihoon had seen him at the harvest day feast, reading a book half hidden under the table. Jeonghan knows his type. Born into responsibility, but preferring to avoid it. He will be impressionable and eager to defer to authority.
Kwon Soonyoung. Alliance commoner, son of a steelworker, danced so well at the solstice festivities that even Kingdom peasants heard of his hips. But new money is fragile money, and Soonyoung will be pressured to succeed and cement his family’s fortunes. Being a commoner, he will not have the same education of the noble children, and will struggle in class. A weakness Jeonghan will exploit.
Wen Junhui. Stateless. Little was known of him, except that he is currently a guest in the Kim estate. The Kims had adopted Xu Minghao a decade prior, a war refugee who bore the crest of Indech. There was a motive there, but the grander ambition Jeonghan needs to sniff out, for the Kims was an old Empire family near the Kingdom border.
One month into the semester, Jeonghan overplays his hand in a fishing competition that leaves Xu Minghao teary-eyed, Kim Mingyu hard-pressed, and Wen Junhui turning on his heel and striding the other way.
Fine, Jeonghan thinks, espionage can wait a few more moons. He decides to forsake his duties entirely and indulge in the freedom of academy life, lounging in the sun by the fishing pond, reading books stolen from Professor Jeritza’s desk.
But curiosity maintains the habit of pilfering the reports from Seungcheol’s father. Reports of changing political winds, shifts in voting blocs in the Emperor’s cabinet, a new student enrolling abruptly.
Hong Jisoo. Bastard son of a margrave, raised as a commoner. Mother was a prominent figure in the western church but recently assassinated by separatists, Jisoo to be transferred to Garreg Mach as a ward of the church. Diplomatic hostage, Jeonghan reads between the lines. He knows how the cards fall when the greater powers wrestle.
Every sentence is a collection of troubled traits Jeonghan is gleeful to analyse. He expects Jisoo to be broody, resentful. Raised on the edges of privilege but never a beneficiary of it. It would sting, to be perennially aware of the much you can never have. Kids like Jisoo tend to be outcasts, fated to recreate the exile they were born into.
Jeonghan catches a glimpse of Jisoo when Mingyu takes him on a tour of the grounds. Jeonghan gives a light wave and his friendliest smile from his perch by the pond, but Mingyu purses his lips and hurries Jisoo along, face darkening as he whispers in Jisoo’s ear.
But Jisoo’s face does not change, he smiles back at Jeonghan, pleasant as the summer wind and shallow as an hour’s frost. The crinkle by his eye is impermeable, suggesting amicability and nothing further. The tilt of his head exactly enough to be kind but not inquiring. The perfect pilgrim, Jeonghan thinks. A face you could confess to.
They shared faith classes, Jisoo far more proficient than Jeonghan ever will be, spells practised into mantras. But Jeonghan has a habit of keeping his eyes open during the Archbishop’s prayers for he was neither devout nor conformist. And so he sees amidst the bowed heads, Hong Jisoo with his chin held high, mouth hard and eyes even harder, staring into the stained glass with a bitterness that could only belong to the unbelieving.
Jeonghan thinks — Here is a boy who hides his darkness.
Here is a boy I want to befriend.
It takes Jeonghan a few attempts to wriggle into Jisoo’s spheres. Jisoo is busy after their faith class, Minghao steers him away from Jeonghan’s table in the dining hall, and Jisoo is a stellar student who should be tutoring rather than tutored. It takes a fortuitous assignment of stable duty before Jeonghan is able to talk to Jisoo proper. Like most students born of the common class, Jisoo has never been taught to ride or groom. Jeonghan takes the curry brush from Jisoo’s hand and teaches him how to brush a horse, how to carry gentleness in a hand and home in a voice. And then later, Jeonghan teaches him how to sneak into the saunas without a teacher, which of the stray cats were the friendliest, and when the kitchen serves the best meals.
And then later, Jeonghan introduces Hong Jisoo to Choi Seungcheol, and sees the way Jisoo’s breath catches, how his eyes linger on Seungcheol’s face and hold a hurricane of longing beneath a practised smile. Jeonghan thinks —
Here is a boy who wants a boy who wants me.
Here is a boy I can teach to be wanted.
And so, Jeonghan teaches Jisoo everything about Seungcheol and watches the adoration bloom in his eyes. How Seungcheol’s favourite meal were the meat skewers and least favourite was the peach sorbet. The tribulations of Seungcheol’s first hunt and first ride. How Seungcheol was driven to win at all costs yet refused to fight needlessly. How he was a boy who contained no darkness and could not see the darkness within people.
And later, Jeonghan teaches Jisoo when to watch Seungcheol’s practice, how to time his praise so that Seungcheol is the proudest, what to say and how to say it. Which classes Seungcheol detests, and would inevitably ask to copy homework. Which merchant sold Seungcheol’s favourite whetstone and when they restocked. All details which Jeonghan knew like the contours of his own hand, retelling with the familiarity of his own life. It was Jeonghan’s joy, to share his stories with Jisoo, to sit with him in the lazy sunlight on stolen afternoons, his own head resting on Jisoo’s lap and gazing upwards at the boy who was so beautiful it puts the heart in his chest on wings. Jeonghan thinks
I want you to be never lonely again. I want you to be safe. I want you to understand me as I understand you.
And Jeonghan thinks —
Oh.
And then, oh no.