Chapter Text
The world returns in a daze,blurred around the edges even before Felix opens his eyes. A dull ache spreads across his chest. His hands shift, head turning over as he grumbles, hit by light filtering into the room. By his bed, he can make out a silhouette shift and, as his touch treads up his body, Felix is able to quickly figure out who is with him and where he is.
“You did it, Felix.”
He did. Even if Felix’s eyes are still unfocused as they drop down on himself, he’s still able to perceive what is beneath the hands he hovers over a wrapped chest. A chest flatter than it’s ever been.
With the effects of anesthetic magic still easing away, Felix isn’t sure how to process his emotions. They’re most certainly positive, yes, but even so, they induce trembles in his body as his hands reach up to his face. A deep breath escapes his lips. No tears yet; perhaps they will come later, when he finally gets to have the reveal of his now flat chest.
Whilst Felix’s face is hidden, he feels Sylvain lean in towards him, brushing lips over the side of his head. “I’m proud of you,” says Sylvain, his voice now a little clearer.
“There’s not really anything to be proud of,” says Felix, hands now lowering from his face. Even before he ended this sentence, however, he knew that the words are inaccurate.
He’s needed this for a time longer than he can say. Ever since his breasts had begun to grow through puberty, he’s despised their existence despite initially not understanding why. He always despised how some lumps of fat on his chest dictated the happiness in himself. How even if he could forget about them when he was eventually able to bind, he was still burdened by what lay beneath that fabric. Needing to take it off after a certain time, unable to avoid them as he showered. It was a huge obstacle that hormones could never help him with.
Even after the war began, surgery could have never been an option—what room was there for a surgery like this? To Felix, it was life-saving, but not enough in comparison to the people on the brink of death being saved by medicine and magic. No matter how much he needed it, he had a duty to fulfill, and could have never taken long periods of time out to recover from surgery.
Then the war ended, and even then, Felix found it difficult. The death of his father still hangs over his head to this day. The survivor’s guilt he thought he’d overcome from Glenn’s death has remained inside him like a monster beneath his skin, and it’s been difficult to slow down and accept what needs to be done.
A day arrived, however; one where Felix burst into tears as he and Sylvain were sexually intimate and the former couldn’t bear to strip himself of clothing. And, with Sylvain’s firmness and resolve for Felix to take a step back and start looking into this surgery, he’s finally awaking with this new accomplishment in his transition two and a half years after the end of the war.
How time flies.
“Well, I’m proud of you. And I always will be.” Sylvain proceeds to snigger, giving Felix’s shoulder a poke considering his chest cannot be touched yet. “That sure is a load off your chest, huh?”
“Oh, give over. I feel too drained to listen to puns.”
Still, Felix finds himself laughing. It’s not even over such a silly joke. It’s...everything, he believes, all of the disbelief and joy. The moment Sylvain has propped up Felix’s pillow against the headboard, he leans back with watery eyes closing and a deep exhale.
There’s still some to be done yet. Bottom surgery isn’t a goal, but he’s aware that a hysterectomy might be necessary; he might live a life where almost everyone refers to him as a man, but there is still some legal work to be done before Sylvain and Felix can officially marry as two men, rather than a man and ‘woman’.
But this is, to Felix, the biggest hurdle out of the way. And when the day to reveal his chest arrives, when he gets to look at the scars upon his skin, he knows that he will be proud of himself in the same way that Sylvain is.
Taking a break from the pile of paperwork on his desk, Felix has turned his chair to face the tall window situated behind it. Curtains drawn, allowing summer’s sunshine to filter through, blowing gently from the small gap left open. A beautiful sight, as it always is; still, Felix’s eyes are fixed on his left hand, twisting the ring upon his ring finger.
It doubles as both his engagement and marriage ring. Despite Felix’s words about forgetting the ring, Sylvain still had the one he was supposed to give to Felix, once the two had an official date in mind for their wedding. A more insecure Felix in the past might have feared this would bring on dysphoria, but a crucial change stopped this from happening; the way Sylvain said to use it for the wedding too, and also the way he had words inscribed on the inner face of the ring despite how his father was against doing so. It made it far more personal. A ring dedicated to Felix, not to the fiance Sylvain had been arranged to marry.
Felix does not have to remove the ring to recall those words: Remember our promise.
His head lifts over the sound of the door opening. He smiles when Sylvain steps inside, a silver tray with teacups held on his forearm. The two currently do not reside together yet despite being married for a year, for plans must be executed first.
Still, with how frequently the two manage to sneak in lengthy stays at each other’s territories, they might as well already be living together permanently.
“Working hard or hardly working?” Sylvain jokes, settling the tray down on Felix’s desk.
“Working enough that I can warrant a break with you.” His smile grows when he inhales the scent of a four-spice blend.
“Good, because I’d accept no other answer.” Sylvain walks around the desk, leaning down to press a kiss to Felix’s head before his gaze is brought to the papers in front of them. “It’s going to take some time to combine our territories, especially when I also have my work with Sreng, but we’ll get there.”
“We will. And I’ll have to put up with you more often.”
Despite his words, Felix’s voice is soft; with five years passing since the war, he has to admit that his sharper edge has become less harsh as of late. He wouldn’t be himself without sass on the tip of his tongue, of course, but the peace and joy around him has certainly left him more calm than previously.
He’s also far better at showcasing his affection, now resting his hands on Sylvain’s waist as he rises on his toes to bring their lips together. It tickles these days, from the beard Sylvain has decided to grow. Felix teased him to no end at first, and still does sometimes, but Sylvain is made completely aware of how much Felix adores it nonetheless.
“I still can’t believe we even managed to get married,” says Felix, Sylvain humming in response.
“Byleth and Seteth were a huge help. I would have never wanted to marry you if it wasn’t how it’s supposed to be.” Sylvain takes both of Felix’s hands in his own, thumbs rubbing over the back of them with a smile. “We’re making it one step at a time, just as we’ve always done. Taking our future as our own.”
Felix hums, leaning back in towards Sylvain. “And I’d choose to live no other way.”
This time, it’s Sylvain who closes the gap between their lips for a second kiss, warmth radiating over their bodies from the sunshine through the window. It doesn’t matter how many kisses they share, nor how often they embrace one another; Felix is certain he will never stop being grateful for every single moment.
There had been countless times he believed all of this would be impossible. First never believing he could come out as his true self, then accepting to himself that Sylvain could never possibly see him in a romantic light. The medical transition, being accepted. Everything seemed as though it was one fantasy after another.
Those fantasies, however, are now his reality even if there are still struggles. He’s able to slide into bed at night and look forward to the next day ahead. He’s able to look inside himself and not regret how he was born, but rather accept his circumstances as everything which made him the person he is today.
He hopes his family is watching somewhere; he hopes they know that when he goes to bed at night in Sylvain’s arms, a smile on his face, he is happier than he has ever been.