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The two of them look too good to be hanging around this kind of bar, where the lighting isn’t terrible to improve the ambiance it’s just that half the bulbs illuminating the place are cracked, and the drinks are diluted enough that they taste like water with a sour note, a bitter aftertaste that doesn’t go away even with a chaser of stronger stuff that he’s brought from his dormitory.
Some graduation party this has turned out to be, more somber than celebratory, the last chance to see the faces of their classmates before they all head off into the black, in different directions at warp speed. The next time he sees Felix, it’ll be on screen, or worse in a 3D projection that does no one any favors.
In truth, he’s never wanted this. His own ship, his own crew, the responsibility of it that even now refuses to settle correctly. When he was younger, he never looked up at the stars and felt even an inkling of wonder a future starship captain should. He remembers one night sitting out on the porch, canting his head upward to look at the sky and the stretch of stars and thinking that all of it looked cold. Empty save for pinpoints of light that he knew could burn at up to 50,000 Kelvin. It was stupid things like that, useless facts that got him the chair instead of Miklan who couldn’t pass the exam to make it into Starfleet no matter how hard he tried. He tried hard, for a while. Went to all the classes he should, their parents got him a private tutor, but none of it seemed to stick. For Miklan it went in one ear and out the other, and the more he didn’t understand the angrier he got.
That night he was looking up at the stars? It ended with Miklan’s foot in the center of his back, an impact that knocked the air from his lungs, and when he turned around to stare at his brother the anger on his face only compelled a well of pity. Hey, if he could switch their aptitudes he would, he would have handed over his test scores that said he was some sort of genius. A burgeoning prodigy without any real effort on his part.
The next morning he had woken up to a phone call, Miklan’s gruff voice in his ear as he asked him to come bail him out. He had slowly gotten ready, mindful of the bruise on his back, blooming angry shades of red and purple, and was careful not to wake their parents as he opened the drawer in the kitchen where the car keys were kept.
The truth is, which he has yet to admit to anyone, is that he’s resentful. Not because Miklan stole his childhood, it’s because he stole his future. Hundreds of people are going to rely on him, a whole crew who will look to him, follow and have faith in him because Miklan couldn’t get his act together enough to pass a round of standardized testing.
He isn’t ( usually ) a maudlin drinker, especially when he has company. Beautiful company that is currently looking at him over the rim of her glass with open concern that she doesn’t bother to mask and if that isn’t Dorothea for you. He hasn’t said anything, hasn’t even slumped his shoulders, and she’s starting at him like she can see right into his head. She’s more perceptive than people give her credit for, more everything than people give her credit for. Before she can say anything, he juts his chin out towards a girl walking past the pool table wearing something revealing. Blonde hair, long legs, sugared smile.
“What do you think?”
Dorothea follows the line of his gaze, and sighs. “I know her, we did a project together in Interspecies Ethics. She’s a sweet girl.”
“I sure hope not.”
At one-point Dorothea’s disapproval would have been searing, but now she simply stares at him, the concern still heavy in her gaze and it makes him want to turn a degree on his bar-stool to get away from it. She knows and he knows that he’s not going to go chasing after her tonight.
It’s not often that Dorothea spends time with him like this, the first year at the academy after their initial encounter that had ended poorly ( too similar, that’s what the problem was ) they had been near inseparable. But then, she had met Edelgard. With her came Hubert and Ferdinand who looks at her like she had personally hung the moon in the sky and if he’s honest with himself he feels a little like that as well but he hides it better. Or, he thinks he hides it better.
He wants Dorothea, not her pity that he’s been hung up on her for literal years.
Speaking of Edelgard, she’s here as well which is an oddity that more than warrants a moment of his attention. She’s here and what she’s wearing is, to put it bluntly, obscene compared to how she usually dresses. He notices things, he especially notices things about people who he finds attractive, and he guesses that most of the academy have at some point harbored some sort of crush on her. Not just because of how she looks, large round eyes and delicate features, but because of the confidence she carries herself with.
The dress she’s wearing is tight, short, clings to her body like a second skin.
“Am I seeing things? Or is that really Edelgard wearing one of your dresses?”
He remembers it from a party, about a year ago in Claude’s suite. All of them had somehow managed to cram into the relatively tight space, and though most of the night is a blur in his memory a couple things managed to stick. He remembers Hilda nestled on Claude’s lap, whispering something in his ear that had caused him to smirk. He remembers Bernadetta hiding under the ping-pong table he had helped set-up earlier. He also remembers the sound of Dorothea’s gasp when Caspar had ran into the drinks table, and had sent a bowl of appropriately spiked punch tipping over right onto the dress that Edelgard is wearing. It had turned a wet red, and he remembers making to stand up to do something, but Ferdinand had beat him there already moving to wrap her in his too-big coat and turning red as the punch at the simple thank you she had given him.
Dorothea had hated Ferdinand. Something had happened between the two of them years before they arrived on the shuttle here, but he had never figured out what and Dorothea has never told him. But, they’re on better terms now, and Ferdinand is in love with her and that fact, it makes his stomach churn unpleasantly.
“I didn’t realize you paid that much attention to my wardrobe. But yes, that is one of mine.”
“Any reason why Edelgard is wearing it?”
“It’s a big night for her Sylvain,” Dorothea leans in closer to him, to impart a secret, and all he can think about it how nice she smells. There’s something floral in the scent, roses maybe? “She’s finally going to do it, make her move and confess.”
He stares at Edelgard, and then he stares at the space next to her which is occupied by Hubert. Since he’d met them the two of them have always been together, just not together. He had made the mistake of thinking the latter until it had been pointed out to him that they always stood a careful distance apart. Then he had thought the relationship was that of a leader and dedicated follower, Hubert licking at her heels like a dog begging for scraps until he had looked closer and realized that whatever was between them was reciprocated.
The thing with Edelgard is that she has walls around her that are so high they’re insurmountable, and any and all admirers are left on the outside ramming into them again and again and again depending on the level of determination to get their feelings across, all failing to impart a single crack in her defenses. Hubert, he’s never had to make it past them, because he’s always been on the inside. As much as Hubert belongs to Edelgard, she belongs to him.
He scoffs. “What’s the point of the dress, I bet he’d be overjoyed even if she poured out her heart to him in sweats.”
“You know, it’s just to give her that extra bit of courage. She’s human Sylvain, she’s worried that he’s going to say no.”
“He’s not going to.”
Dorothea sips her drink, and then slowly. “He might be afraid that it’ll complicate things and ruin what they have.”
Well, that he can understand. When he had first seen Dorothea, it had been instinctual to let the pick-up line fall out of his mouth, the delivery a bit more breathless than his usual standard because Dorothea is beautiful of a different caliber and like Edelgard he’s only human. Her response hadn’t been kind, she had seen right through him. It had been the first time someone had called him on his behavior, and with an alarming accuracy. Only weeks after that he’d realized that he’d went and fallen for her, which he’d panicked about before rationalizing that it didn’t have to be a big deal. She didn’t have to know because that would push her away, that and he didn’t think he’d be able to stand her telling him that she couldn’t return his feelings, but they could stay friends.
Everyone knows the line is a lie, sure they’d be able to pretend things were normal like his feelings weren’t a near palpable thing for a while, but eventually the strain of them would crush their friendship underneath.
“If he has any sense, he’ll say yes. I doubt she’s going to confess twice.”
Proud and arrogant, those are the traits most often attributed to Edelgard. It’s true, he thinks, to an extent. Despite meaning to Edelgard gets that way, stuck in a mindset that goes: Only I can do it, I have to do it myself, I have to do it alone.
He had gotten curious enough about her that he’d asked his father about it, if he knew anything about her family. He looked pleased enough at the question and asked him if he meant to secure her ( he’s sure that lots of girls’ fathers had a similar conversation about securing him ) as it would do well for the family. He had murmured something vague in agreement and his father pulled some strings and had sent him a drive of files to look through with a warning that he shouldn’t show anyone else.
He had learned a couple things about Edelgard von Hresvelg that he was never meant to. When she was young her family went up to a new colony on a developing planet. She was one of eleven children when she went up, an only child when she came back down. Most of the documents were blacked out, information covered with heavy black bars, but he knows something terrible must have happened. After an experience like that, you would think that she’d hate space, never want to go up again.
But here she is, command track. Will have her own ship just like he’ll have his.
“I don’t know about that. Edie can be stubborn when she wants something.”
Edelgard is stubborn and more than a little terrifying. After reading her files he had approached her, unfortunately during combat training. She was stretching, without a partner ( really, he should have wondered why no one volunteered to go up against her ) and he had stood in front of her and asked if she’d like to go a round with a grin that Dorothea had taken to rolling her eyes at. She had sized him up quickly, ignoring or not recognizing the flirtatious undertone of his words, and he had done the same noting the number of scars visible on her body. The majority on her arms, old and gnarled, and at one point deep. She had followed his gaze, where it rested on her skin, and before he knew it, he had his cheek pressed down into the mat with her on top of him, the breath pushed from his lungs.
She hadn’t spoken to him after that, and he hadn’t tried to.
Now he doesn’t want to, not because he dislikes her, but because she’s going to steal Dorothea away from him for good.
He’s going to have his own ship, Edelgard is going to have hers and when she asks Dorothea to serve under her she’s not going to say no.
By now everyone’s just about sorted where they’re going, what ship— whose ship they’re going to serve on. It’s obvious who is going to be Edelgard’s first officer, it’s also obvious that she’s going to recruit Caspar and Petra, Linhardt to head medical and fall asleep in the engine room. Ferdinand because they’re childhood friends despite appearances. When they’d first arrived he’d see them crossing the green Ferdinand gesticulating wildly, as if with the broad strokes of his hands he could make Edelgard see just how much he exceeded her in everything. Edelgard had never failed to look comically irritated, jaw set tightly, and he could imagine the sound of her teeth grinding. Eventually Ferdinand had always given up, leaving her with a declaration of his intent to surpass her. Of course, Ferdinand never saw how her expression softened at his retreating back, irritation giving way to a kind of amusement.
He looks at Dorothea who has turned out to stare out at Edelgard and Hubert with an impossible fondness that he doesn’t think has ever been aimed his way. He takes her in from the top, the way the long waves of her hair fall artfully to frame her face, the soot-black lashes that frame her eyes, her red mouth that matches her red dress. He skims over her hips, her legs, before returning back to her face.
He wants her but he’s a coward, and even if she does let him in now, it won’t be for long.
Casually, after another drink. “So, has she asked you yet?”
“Hm?”
“Has she asked you to serve with her?”
A full-body turn towards him, the question garnering her full attention.
“What makes you think she’s going to ask me?”
“So, she hasn’t then.”
He still has a chance. If he doesn’t ask, then he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life. He downs the rest of his drink in one, sets the glass down hard on the bar top.
“Sylvain?”
“Be my first.”
It isn’t even a question. It’s a statement delivered with a thread of desperation. The sentence itself would be funny if it didn’t feel so dire.
“I don’t—”
“Be my first officer Dorothea. We both know I’m going to be hopeless up there without you, so come with me.”
“How many drinks have you had?”
She’s not— she doesn’t understand. She thinks he’s asking because he’s had one too many and because his judgement is impaired.
“I’m serious. Hell, I’ve never been more serious about anything. I want you with me.”
“Edelgard—”
“—doesn’t need you. I do. This whole time, you’re the only one that’s been keeping me afloat. I came here and thought I didn’t need to try, even if I flunked all my classes they’d still hand me a ship on a silver platter just because of my name. You made me want to be better and I…”
“Sylvain…”
“Wait, I’m not done. You aren’t friends with me because of my name, I know that.” He rakes a hand through his hair, mussing it from artfully messy to disheveled. “I honestly haven’t figured out what’s made you stay by my side all these years, if it’s not because of that, then what?”
"Is it so hard to believe that I like you? That I care about you?”
She’s staring at him intently, and it occurs to him none of her answers have been no.
“Then let’s do it. I’m serious Dorothea. I’ll file the paperwork tomorrow.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it. After a moment, she slowly starts to smile.
“You do realize a relationship between a captain and first officer is against regulation.”
Almost automatic. “Screw regulation.”
Then it hits him, what she’s just said all at once. She watches it dawn across his face with growing amusement, the curl of her lips becoming a bit devious.
“You’re saying yes?”
“I’m saying yes, to all of it.”
He can’t be blamed for it, for doing something as cliché as sealing the deal with a kiss.