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“Can I talk to you for a moment, Felix?” It was Linhardt. Again. For the third time that week; it was only Tuesday. Linhardt had already cornered him after class, in the bathrooms, and now in the dining hall. Felix was sick of it.
“I’m busy.”
“You said that the last time I spoke to you.”
“I’m a busy man.” He turned to go, but Linhardt stood firmly in the doorway. He was trapped.
“I just want to have a little conversation about Crests,” Linhardt said, and Felix rolled his eyes. Of course it was Crests. “Yours is exceedingly interesting.” Felix had already been told as much by Professor Hanneman, and he had no desire to talk about it any more than that.
“I’m not interested in what you have to say,” he replied. He hated talking about Crests, because they were so linked to inheritance and inheritance was hopelessly linked to that thorny thing that was unfortunately part of Felix’s body.
“Oh, but I insist,” Linhardt said. Felix glared at him. Linhardt didn’t go away. “We could talk about it over tea, if that’s a little more your style.” Felix couldn’t fathom why it would be, but clearly Linhardt had no intention of leaving him alone no matter how much he objected.
“Fine,” he snapped. “Fine, we can talk about Crests over tea. Now leave me alone.” Linhardt simply smiled, nodded, and left the dining hall with nothing more than a brief word of thanks. Goddess, he was annoying.
When they had their little tea outing, Linhardt showed up late with a pile of cakes. He dumped them unceremoniously on the table, and Felix eyed them warily, taking a sip of his tea. It would have gone cold before he even had the chance to start had he waited for Linhardt to bother to arrive.
“I don’t like sweets,” he said.
Linhardt raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” he asked. Felix stared at him. “I was positive that you would. Most people with Crests do.”
“I’m not like most people,” he answered. “You can stop with this stupid...Crest analysis thing. Not everyone with a Crest is the same, surely you’re not inane enough to think that.” Felix happened to know that Linhardt was incredibly intelligent when he actually cared about things, so he surely couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“Perhaps not,” Linhardt replied. “But there are a certain number of things that can be shown to intersect, and this is one of them.”
Felix just took another sip of his tea. He was a little curious as to what Linhardt meant by that; he’d never noticed any particularly prevalent similarities between people with Crests. Ingrid and Ashe liked the same books, Bernadetta lacked confidence where Sylvain had too much. But he didn’t want to say he was curious; it would play right into Linhardt’s hands.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, Linhardt seemed to want to tell him anyway. “It’s actually a profound interest of mine,” Linhardt said. “Crests versus nurture. What causes a noble’s personality disorder? On top of that, there are some rather interesting linkages that can be made when it comes to gender.”
Felix’s grip tightened around the handle of his cup as Linhardt spoke. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice coming out more terse than he wanted it to.
“Oh, well there’s plenty of evidence suggesting that people bearing a Crest have some kind of inclination towards a particular gender,” Linhardt said, and Felix didn’t have a clue how he could say that so nonchalantly. “To use myself as an example, my Crest is that of Saint Cethleann, who was a woman, and I have a general diversion away from manhood.”
“That’s a bullshit theory,” Felix said, scrambling for reasons that had nothing to do with himself. “What about Ashe? Or Ignatz?”
“I think you’ve misunderstood me,” Linhardt said. “I don’t believe gender diversity is caused by Crests. I think it just makes it more likely.”
“What about my father then?” he demanded. “He has a Crest. He’s as-” normal as can be . But Felix didn’t want to say that.
“It’s not everyone, obviously,” Linhardt replied.
Felix hadn’t wanted to bring it up, because he got the nasty feeling that this was exactly why Linhardt had wanted this conversation in the first place. But his hands were starting to shake around his cup and his thoughts were going to places he didn’t want them to.
He didn’t like the suggestion that his whole existence went against Crest science. It felt like a convenient excuse to tell him things about himself that weren’t true. “What about me, then?” he snapped. Anyone passing by would think his tone unreasonably angry.
“You should probably calm down,” Linhardt said. Felix glared at him. “Do you think your problems with your temper could be linked to your Crest?”
Felix clenched his teeth. It took all his willpower not to throw his tea all over Linhardt. Unfortunately, Linhardt continued speaking, clearly unaware of the threat of lukewarm tea hanging over his head.
“Gender, quite frankly, does what it wants,” Linhardt explained. “The fact that you are a man probably has nothing to do with your Crest.”
“Then why did you want to talk to me about it?” Felix asked, feeling a crease form on his forehead. Something ached behind his eyes.
"I just think there's plenty of evidence that your Crest could be the cause of your competitive nature, fast temper, or inability to carefully process your emotions."
Felix narrowed his eyes. Linhardt's tone was light, unbothered, as if it was perfectly natural for him to admit that he’d been paying an unhealthy amount of attention to Felix in the handful of weeks they’d been at the Academy "What's that supposed to mean?”
Linhardt shrugged. “You’re really proving my point here,” he said.
“You have no evidence,” Felix snapped. “You don’t know anyone else in Fódlan with a Fraldarius Crest; you’ve never even met my father. What are you basing this off?”
“Years of research, of course,” Linhardt informed him, as if this was somehow obvious. “I’ve been reading up about hereditary personalities for years now. It’s a particularly developed interest of mine.”
“Your conclusion?” Felix asked through gritted teeth.
“There’s significant evidence that bearers of the Fraldarius Crest are almost always host to a curious condition in which their social skills are nearly uniquely dire,” Linhardt replied.
“Look who’s talking.”
Linhardt had the audacity to smile at him. “I never said I wasn’t similar,” he replied. “Though my condition doesn’t link to my Crest, as far as I can tell.”
As Linhardt spoke, Felix couldn’t help but think back to his brother. Many times when he was younger, Glenn had told him that he didn’t have a condition or a sickness or anything like that. Even being reminded of it made Felix feel faintly queasy. “I don’t have a condition ,” he replied.
“Speak for yourself,” Linhardt said with a shrug, “but the science tells me the truth.”
“Well,” Felix said, “I would beat you in a fight.” He’d set his teacup down, not trusting himself not to throw it at something.
“You probably would,” Linhardt commented, “but that’s hardly the issue at hand right now.”
“No, it’s not,” Felix noted. “The issue at hand is that you’re trying to put me into a little box because of my Crest when actually I’m quite attached to the identity I’ve carved out for himself.” He didn’t appreciate people trivialising his individuality. He’d had enough of that from everyone he knew.
“Yes, but-”
“But nothing,” Felix snapped. “How would you feel if I put you into a box? Don’t tell me, you’d just nap in it?”
“Probably, yes,” Linhardt said. Goddess, he really had no shame. Felix had been trying to mock him. “But I take your point. Experience isn’t just about little boxes I can tick off. Even if you do line up to all of them.”
Felix huffed. He’d had enough. “I’ve finished my tea,” he said, pointedly downing the rest of it as he stood from his chair. “Only talk to me again if you want to spar. I’m not interested in anything else.”
“Okay,” Linhardt said, his voice as light as always. “I’ll keep the information about the very simple magic I use to filter light and sound to myself, then.”
Felix stopped and glared at him. Smug bastard who knew him way too well. “Fine,” he said, trying to avoid balling his hands into fists. “Fine. Another time, though.” Another time, when he wasn’t close to snapping at Linhardt’s knowing little expression again.
“Another time,” Linhardt echoed with a smile. Felix got a bad feeling that maybe he’d be seeing a lot more of him in the future.