#fe randolph

[t0bey]

professor get down

[wanderingmind867]

I did finish a full playthrough of Crimson Flower years ago (maybe just one year ago, I can't really remember). I liked it well enough, and I was able to create a vague concept for a sequel. My sequel basically ripped off Star Wars, with Seteth and Flayn as Obi-Wan while Edelgard's descendants (some of whom took her ideas way further than even she originally did) served as the Palpatine or Vader figure. Beyond that, the game would be all new characters. Seteth and Flayn are the only returning ones, probably.

But besides that, I think a version of Crimson Flower where you got all new playable characters to reflect how Edelgard's army is made up of some genuine idealists, some loyalists only devoted to the throne and some genuinely crazy psychopaths would've been really fun. I think I'm plagiarizing a post from years ago that I barely remember, but a world where Crimson Flower has an all new playable cast to replace everyone else would be neat. It could be the inverse of Silver Snow. The only difference is that Byleth joins Edelgard. The other Black Eagles still join the Church. Maybe make it so you have two versions of Crimson Flower. Crimson Flower with the Eagles and without them.

The version without them would have replacements for all of them. Jeritza, Randolph, Ladislava, possibly even Metodey and stuff. You'd need more characters to create a full line up, but it could be done. I think it could definitely be done. And besides: I almost want to know what a Jeritza and Metodey support chain would look like. Give me an S Support between the two crazy men with violence obsessions. Now that'd be fascinating. I think that alone should be enough to support this concept. Metodey and Jeritza could be the mad soldier power couple we never knew we needed! Metodey supports generally sound like they'd be a wonderful excuse for some really dark comedy. And I kind of love that.

[damoselcastel]

Bergliez the Lesser

Seeing all the posts about Count (Leopold) Bergliez going around, I think I'll share my pet complaint about another in said family- Randolph von Bergliez.

Randolph is a NPC in Adrestia's army who has a unique portrait and varying lines depending on the route. He's probably most memorable in Azure Moon, wherein he becomes sympathetic when Dimitri wants to torture him to death and Byleth steps in to mercy-execute the dude. Thereafter R's sister Fleche is our next pathos NPC, but I more want to concentrate on Randolph's backstory and personal motivations as framed by the game's writing.

(Ran's intro + lines) In Azure Moon's chapter 14 Randolph is the leader of an imperial Vanguard, a position he assumably worked his way up to. Yet he's insecure enough to use being insulted as extra motivation it ordering a counter-attack. When the fire-trap is sprung he has the decency to act as rear guard for his fleeing men (though what FE players would let exp escape?) But he also states they can't return to Adrestia empty handed. When he attacks one of his quotes, "For my house," shows a continuing preoccupation with his step-family connection, despite being in a merit-based squad. His opening plea for mercy from Dimitri is, "I have family waiting for me," referencing his mother and Fleche perhaps, as he asks his sister's forgiveness as he dies. Now, why would his death be a negative for her? If we use the logic that Crests/bloodline are top priority in Fodlan, then Randolph's death simply removes an obstacle from Fleche possibly becoming the Bergliez heir herself, especially since she has an actual blood link to old Count Bergliez if he's going to pull strings for his favored wife. However, from a perspective where it'd be up to sons to protect both their sister's and mother's from the threat of other heirs/family members, Randolph dying puts them in jeopardy... But that fits more into a context where sons from different wives compete to inherit, and if Randolph's titles gaining through merit within the army don't factor-- then this still all feels like a goose-chase to a goal Randolph simply never could've qualified for: being the Bergliez heir.

From Monastery chatter and supports, we find out Caspar's unnamed older brother is both a layabout and not talented, but he'd still the defacto Bergliez heir. Assumably he possibly has no Crest, but this is neither confirmed nor denied- and if he did, then he might only be heir because of his Crest (fitting a certain narrative) or because he's the firstborn son (a priority which makes on sense for the setting). Anyway, Randolph's complaints about "ability" might be aimed at this guy... because trying to say that about Leopold makes no sense.

Leopold von Bergliez is many things: the military commander who defeated Brigid, opportunist who betrayed Ionius then later threw-in with Edelgard, general who thinks of his soldiers but possibly no one else, a war profiteer in territory expansion. But lacking in ability? Hardly seems to be the case, with a long pre-exsisting list of accomplishments. And considering that Leopold is a MUCH older man than Randolf, probably firstborn son of a previous marriage (and Three Hopes gave him a Major Cichol Crest, in direct contradiction to the Hanneman/Seteth support) why in the world did Randoplh's mother think he had a snowball's chance in hell to be Bergliez's heir?

Like... I guess one could argue Randolph and Fleche's mother was banking on her 'favored' status via her Bergliez husband. But by the MULTIPLE standards I just listed, she frankly seems delusional to actually think her son by a different man/from a different marriage, could become heir and inherit the whole Bergliez shebang. Even Randolph joining with Edelgard and hoping for recognition, feels a bit hypocritical if he simply wants to slide himself into that existing inheritance scheme, as opposed to building some authority/wealth structure completely separate from all that family drama.

While I can see why/how Randolph is written sympathetically, he's also one of those riddled-with-plotholes characters in Three Houses that just leave me scratching my head. Like, sorry you didn't get your stepdaddy's trustfund but the neopotism baby already in charge seems way more qualified than you kid.

[theeeveetamer]

Here's the hot side of the "characters I couldn't fit into a specific faction" category

Who is the most fuckable?

Balthus (1)

Yuri (2)

Shez (M) (3)

Randolph (4)

Shahid (5)

Metodey (6)

Voting ended onMay 22, 2023

Remember, I don't want the one you like the most. I want the one you'd fuck

[aurora-veil]

Playing through crimson flower and learning that randolph and fleche are siblings after killing them ruthlessly in silver snow is making me feel insanely guilty

[everjourneyartwork]

“For my house! For justice! I will not be defeated!”

[fodlanbeacheszine]

Ko-fi commission for @popupwillie! 

Randolph & Ladislava: @rani__ki

[iced-coffee-and-imagines]

Randolph von Bergliez/f!Reader - Empire’s Call

"When the day shall come that we do part," he said softly, and turned to look at me, "if my last words are not 'I love you'-ye'll ken it was because I didna have time." ~Diana Gabaldon, Outlander

~---~---~---~---~

Buckles clinked softly as you adjusted the leather straps on your husband’s pauldron, securing it to his harness and over his cloak. The polished, ruddy steel glinted against the early morning sunlight streaming through the large windows. You toyed with the tassels adorning his right shoulder once you finished, your gaze remaining fixed on his chest. The weight of your heart crushed against your lungs, the lump of emotion in your throat nearly suffocating. Biting it back, your other hand dropped to his forearm, idly tracing the edge of his vambrace. You knew he had to leave, to answer his country’s call, Her Majesty’s order. The summons had arrived yesterday morning: he was to ride to Enbarr on the morrow for an undisclosed amount of time. You dreaded the thought of what lay ahead; surely, the Empire was not preparing for war. But, as long as your hands lingered, he was there, alive and well and unscathed.

Randolph studied you silently, soft red eyes taking in whatever he could, while he could. Your expression broke his heart, features forced into neutrality, but unmet gaze betraying; a vain attempt, beloved. It was more for his sake than yours, he knew, and for that reason he never questioned. The letter had surprised you both; the Emperor’s plans were not foreign to him, but for her to act so quickly...

He did not miss the movement of your throat as you swallowed whatever sorrow crept, nor did the small motions of your fingers against his armor escape him. He shifted slowly, gauntlet-covered hands hovering just over the curve of your hips. Gaze lowering in attempt to find yours, Randolph stepped closer, the side of one sabaton brushing against your bare foot. His cuirass skimmed your chest with each breath.

Your hands had long since stilled, right hand resting in the crook of his elbow, left against his shoulder. His hands settled on your waist, grounding, real. He stooped, his nose brushing against yours, russet eyes a silent plea. You tipped your head forward, your brow meeting his as your gaze fell to the floor beneath you. Your hands sought purchase in the sleeves of his tunic, the chocolate wool of Adrestia’s winter uniforms soft and sturdy. Like porcelain, your resolve started to crack, breath shallowing, eyes warm with the beginnings of tears; looking your husband in the eye so close to his departure—for what purpose you had no clue—was dangerous. You had been through his deployments before, yes, each harder than the one previous; but this one felt different, off.

Randolph gently pulled your shorter frame flush to his, keeping his forehead pressed against yours. His armor chilled you through your chemise and peignoir, a sharp inhale escaping as a shiver coursed through you. He rubbed your waist in apology, ghosting his hands up your sides, over your arms and shoulders, before cradling either side of your face. The dark leather was warm against your skin as he tenderly tilted your head up.

He breathed your name like a prayer, unadulterated reverence effortlessly falling from him. You hitched, breath and heart faltering as your hands moved to clutch his wrists, anything to keep him close. Tears blurred your vision, barely clinging to your lashes. He stroked your cheeks, his tone adoring, elegiac, a command wrapped in silk, “Look at me.”

Whether it was out of obedience or simply because it was him, you would never know. Slowly, you brought your gaze to his, those intense redwood eyes that were always so gentle, so loving toward you. You choked back a soft sob, the tang of dolour thick in your mouth. You felt the leather grip brush under your eyes, taking with it the slightest hint of moisture; tears, it hit you, you were crying.

Randolph’s movements were careful in an effort to avoid cutting you on the edge of his gauntlet. This. This was the hardest part of leaving. To see his darling, his wife, so shattered broke parts of his soul he never knew existed until he found love. He needed to leave soon, if he was to make it to Enbarr before evening. But to leave you like this, he could not; goddess damn his heart if he did.

He pressed closer still, the bridge of his nose meeting your cheek. Your hands moved, settling weakly on his jaw and neck as you pushed back, ignoring the ridges of his breastplate against your front. Your voice sounded foreign in your ears, soft and brittle, “Please don’t leave.”

He brushed his nose against yours, straightening to kiss your brow before meeting your eyes again. His right hand trailed over your shoulder and back, resting firmly in the small of it; the other remained on your cheek, cradling it. The ash blond’s smile was sad, forced, “If I had the choice, beloved, I wouldn’t.”

Your thumbs dragged languidly over his broad jawline. You craned your neck as you leaned into him, his hold on your waist tightening. Your gaze softened, exhaustion seeping in. Swallowing the thickness in your throat, you spoke, “How long will you be gone?”

Letting his other hand fall to your back, Randolph sighed. He averted his gaze, leather-covered fingertips tracing along your spine. “I don’t know, unfortunately.” Noting your crestfallen expression out of the corner of his eye, he continued, “But, I shouldn’t be away long; a moon and a half at most, I’d wager.”

Your shoulders dropped. Wrapping your arms around his back, you leaned your cheek against his cuirass, the steady thrum of his heart hidden behind plate. His embrace—safe, secure—had always been a place of respite once you began your relationship in earnest. You felt his left arm envelop your shoulders, the other staying snugly around your waist, holding you fast against the general.

Randolph let his gaze wander over your head to the large windows on the opposite side of the chamber. Bergliez was truly a beautiful territory, nothing but expanses of fields and pastures for miles, a few villages scattered here and there. It smelled of fresh grains and flours, always; the people were kind, happy, grateful to the ruling family. Though not the house of his birth, it was home. If the war were to find it, to find his loved ones, well... He preferred not to dwell on such thoughts.

His eyes fell to you, tucked against him as though he were a lifeline. At some point, the hand at your shoulder had begun to trace patterns, leather sliding easily over the silk that covered you. The lives of those on the home front was not easy, that he knew well; countless nights had been spent discussing “what if’s” and easing the other’s worries, oft through tears. That won’t happen; I’ll come back to you; I promise—all common phrases that only the stars bore witness to. Silver weighed heavy on his finger, the band a constant reminder of oaths he did not know if he could keep. This deployment was not like the others; in three day’s time, he would be marching to Garreg Mach at the Emperor’s whim, her hope to topple the church in a blitzkrieg. Should they fail, the continent would be plunged into conflict, fire, and bloodshed. War was cruel, vicious, heedless of the lives it took in its rampage; he had no idea if he would return at all. The thought gripped his heart and throat like a vice, a sickening chill left in its wake.

His left hand found your face again, tilting your chin up to meet his ruddy eyes. Though your tears had stopped, the melancholy of acceptance in your gaze did not seem much better. The gentle smile that crossed your face was sad, but nothing short of adoring. You would wait for him, counting the hours until he held you again. You trusted him fully, knowing he would do everything in his power to return home. His chest ached. Goddess, what did he do to deserve you?

Randolph held you steady by your waist as he guided you onto your toes, stooping to meet you halfway. He kissed you softly, sweetly, one of your hands raising to cup his cheek, the other finding purchase on the junction of his neck and shoulder. It was meant to be a chaste farewell between a husband and wife; but as contact mutually deepened, it became far more: “I’ll be home soon” changed to “I may not return”; tenderness fell to desperation; hope shattered to fear. Masks crumbled, leaving two haunted lovers in their wake.

Both of you were breathless as you pulled apart, a slight saltiness lingering on your mouths; though whose tears they were neither of you could tell. You felt every divot and rise of his armor against your chest, his belt pushing against your stomach. However uncomfortable, it was proof that he was alive.

He pressed his forehead to yours, thumb stroking your cheek. He would fight a thousand wars if it meant keeping you safe. “I love you.”

Your eyes opened to find his, soft but piercing and all too unsure for so confident a man. Losing him would kill you. “I love you too.”

A sharp rap on the chamber door startled you both, heads turning. Upon hearing Randolph’s confirmation, an older servant opened the door halfway. “Forgive my intrusion, my lord and lady. Lord Bergliez, your horse is prepared. Shall there be anything else before you depart?”

The general, cheerful demeanor rebounding, simply smiled, “No, my friend. That would be all. Thank you.” Upon hearing the click of the door shutting, he sighed, expression faltering as his head turned to the large battle axe against the rack. He walked over and attached the sheath to his harness before picking the silver weapon up, brandishing it before holstering it behind him. He ran a gauntleted hand through his sandy blond hair, his attention falling to you. “Well,” he chuckled dryly, “it appears it’s time for us to part, my darling.”

You clasped your hands in front of you, bare feet padding softly against the floor as you moved to stand in front of your husband again. Grasping the collar of his cloak, you stood on your toes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. As you returned weight to your heels, he caught your left hand, kissing the inside of your ring finger, and with it your wedding band, softly, reassuringly.

You smiled, right hand grazing his cheek, “Stay safe, my love.”

The undercurrent of worry in your tone was not lost to him, no matter how well you tried to hide it. He smiled in return, baritone airy, “I’ll try my best.” A laugh rose in him at your furrowed brow, Honestly, Randolph? “I will. I swear it. When have you ever known me not to be careful?”

You did laugh at that. “Many times, if Fleche’s stories and patching you up myself are anything to go by.” Your voice softened, “Write to me.”

He hummed, “As soon as I may, as often as I can.” He kissed your forehead once more before releasing you, stepping away and toward the door. “I love you, with everything I am.” Goddess, did he cherish you.

“I love you too.” Goddess, protect him.

The easy smile not leaving his face, he opened the door and departed, unsure of the future but swearing to return.