[ There's a part of him that still hasn't forgiven Byleth for the events that unfolded on the 16th day of the Ethereal Moon in the year 1180. It went something like this: his dear, damnably persuasive professor asked him a few weeks prior to be the Blue Lions' representative in the White Heron Cup. Him - not Annette, who has a knack for singing and dancing, or Mercedes, who, despite her clumsiness, would've wowed the judges based on charm alone. Hell, even Ashe, Ingrid, or Sylvain, for goddess's sake would've been a better choice. But Byleth chose him for some reason, and he couldn't say no.
And he won. Not by the skin of his teeth - it was a unanimous decision from the judges. He's not a religious man by any means, but he wonders if it was a cruel joke pulled by the goddess, because there's no way in hell he could've beaten the opera singer from the Black Eagles or that damn noble from the Golden Deer who won't stop throwing his name around (lorenz hellman glouster) like he's someone important. Felix has never cared about being elegant or charming but he still ended up as the class's - and later the damn Kingdom army's - main source of motivation. He could cut down enemies as he pleased, but he also needed to keep the spirits of those around him high.
He did it, though, because he just can't say "no" to Byleth.
And, joke's on him, so long as it's off the battlefield and no one's watching, he actually... doesn't mind... dancing. It's a departure from his usual hobbies - things like training, and... that's it, really - but he finds it as soothing as swinging a sword until his arms are sore. And, in times of peace, it's arguably a better use of his time.
Which is why, during one of his visits to the capital, he asks Mercedes to mend his old dancer outfit. He'd been putting it off for a while, but after an entire war's worth of battles and bloodshed, it desperately needed some TLC. And, according to her, some additional embellishments. When he gets his clothes back, he finds she's added additional coins and tassels, integrated some diamonds along some expanses of blue... even subtly stitched his crest's symbol onto the strip of fabric near his brooch. It's more than he asked for, and he... loves it, honestly. He'll have to pester someone with a sweet tooth to help him thank her properly later.
But that's for later. For now, he's itching to dance in his revamped attire. So long after the sun's set and the castle has (presumably) gone to bed, Felix makes his way out to the ever-familiar training grounds. It's not as secluded as he'd like, but he can't wander off too far without drawing the attention of any of the night guards. And a quick but thorough look around confirms that he's alone.
After a slow, deep breath to center himself, he begins to dance. His feet kicks up sand and dirt as he glides about the grounds, the only noise accompanying his improvised routine. While his movements lack elegance and grace, Felix is still beautiful as he moves - he's got years of training under his belt, after all.
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And he won. Not by the skin of his teeth - it was a unanimous decision from the judges. He's not a religious man by any means, but he wonders if it was a cruel joke pulled by the goddess, because there's no way in hell he could've beaten the opera singer from the Black Eagles or that damn noble from the Golden Deer who won't stop throwing his name around (lorenz hellman glouster) like he's someone important. Felix has never cared about being elegant or charming but he still ended up as the class's - and later the damn Kingdom army's - main source of motivation. He could cut down enemies as he pleased, but he also needed to keep the spirits of those around him high.
He did it, though, because he just can't say "no" to Byleth.
And, joke's on him, so long as it's off the battlefield and no one's watching, he actually... doesn't mind... dancing. It's a departure from his usual hobbies - things like training, and... that's it, really - but he finds it as soothing as swinging a sword until his arms are sore. And, in times of peace, it's arguably a better use of his time.
Which is why, during one of his visits to the capital, he asks Mercedes to mend his old dancer outfit. He'd been putting it off for a while, but after an entire war's worth of battles and bloodshed, it desperately needed some TLC. And, according to her, some additional embellishments. When he gets his clothes back, he finds she's added additional coins and tassels, integrated some diamonds along some expanses of blue... even subtly stitched his crest's symbol onto the strip of fabric near his brooch. It's more than he asked for, and he... loves it, honestly. He'll have to pester someone with a sweet tooth to help him thank her properly later.
But that's for later. For now, he's itching to dance in his revamped attire. So long after the sun's set and the castle has (presumably) gone to bed, Felix makes his way out to the ever-familiar training grounds. It's not as secluded as he'd like, but he can't wander off too far without drawing the attention of any of the night guards. And a quick but thorough look around confirms that he's alone.
After a slow, deep breath to center himself, he begins to dance. His feet kicks up sand and dirt as he glides about the grounds, the only noise accompanying his improvised routine. While his movements lack elegance and grace, Felix is still beautiful as he moves - he's got years of training under his belt, after all.
(thanks, byleth. really.) ]