Chapter Text
Ingrid couldn’t seem to get rid of Sylvain.
She, Sylvain, and Felix had fought together frequently in the five years before their class reunion—she’d have thought Sylvain would have had his fill of her. Yet he had dogged her steps ever since they’d returned to the monastery months ago. It seemed like everywhere she went, he turned up. The monastery wasn’t that small. She barely had time to breathe between training and battles, let alone catch up with her friends. She definitely didn’t have time for his nonsense.
“You know, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sylvain said with a grin as he sauntered up to Ingrid in the dining hall.
“Don’t you have some girl to seduce?” she asked as she took a plate and moved toward a table.
Sylvain gazed at her steadily and took a bite of the apple he held. “Maybe.”
“Ugh.”
She sat down at one of the tables and tucked into her food. Sylvain claimed a spot across from her, set down his plate, and finished his apple, watching her all the while.
“Stop staring at me,” she said between mouthfuls.
Sylvain finally picked up his fork. “Where else should I look?”
“Honestly.”
Where was Felix when she needed him? Ingrid raised her head. There he was—moving toward where Annette sat. Ashe sat down next to Annette, both their faces lighting up, and Felix veered away. He came Ingrid’s way, but Dorothea got there first and settled next to Sylvain. Felix scowled and took the chair on Ingrid’s other side, so he wasn’t sitting across from the songstress. Dorothea smirked.
Ingrid and Sylvain exchanged a glance.
“Felix,” Sylvain said, “Ingrid’s telling me I spend too much time with her.”
Felix glared at Dorothea. “I know the feeling. At least she noticed you stopped chasing skirts.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Ingrid said with a frown. Sylvain had stopped his philandering? Since when? Although now she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him with a woman in a while. He seemed focused in a way he hadn’t been before. War did that to a person.
“Forget them,” Sylvain said to Dorothea. “How’s my lovely lady doing today?”
Dorothea smiled. “As well as one can during wartime. How’s my eligible noble?”
The two laughed. Ingrid hunched over her food. Must be an inside joke. Strange, Sylvain had never been close with people outside their childhood friends. Something besides her meal churned in her belly at the sight of him and Dorothea. Sylvain rarely opened up and was difficult to get to know. But she knew him, didn’t she?
“Disgusting,” Felix muttered under his breath.
Ingrid was inclined to agree, but she caught herself. There was no reason for her to begrudge Sylvain closeness, if he’d found it. Dorothea was smart. She wouldn’t let herself get played just because he was a magnificent specimen.
A shiver went down Ingrid’s spine. That thought had come out of nowhere. She pushed it away and focused on her meal.
“You shouldn’t even be here,” Felix said to Dorothea. “You’re not from Faerghus.”
“The professor recruited me into the Blue Lions fair and square,” Dorothea said, gaze snapping. “I had as much right to show up for the reunion as you did.”
The two began to argue. Again.
“I like watching you eat,” Sylvain said to Ingrid.
Ingrid’s cheeks heated. “I was hungry.”
“No, I mean it. I love the way you lose yourself in the pleasure.”
That sounded oddly sincere. But he was likely hitting on her. Probably didn’t want his skills to get rusty between now and when the war was over.
“I’m going to go train,” Ingrid said, having finished her meal.
Dorothea waggled her fingers and winked. “I’ll see you later, darling. Maybe we can have tea?”
“I’d like that.” Ingrid smiled at her friend, cleared her dishes, and headed toward the exit.
“Hey!” Sylvain caught up as she went outside. “Need a sparring partner?”
Ingrid looked at him askance. “Since when are you so interested in training?”
“Since I decided not to die in this war.”
“Finally applying yourself, then?”
“You could say that.”
They walked side by side toward the training grounds. It was later than she’d thought. The ribbons of cloud in the sky turned gold and pink as the sun sank toward the earth. Sylvain’s hair caught the sunset turned into molten flame. Ingrid banished the thought as soon as she had it and trained her gaze on the path ahead of her.
She was so focused on where she was going that she startled when something nestled behind her ear. Her fingers flew to the offending object and encountered soft petals. A flower. She glanced at Sylvain, who grinned down at her.
“Seriously?” she asked with a sigh.
His grin widened. “Relax. Learn to have a little harmless fun.”
“Since when is your sort of fun harmless? Is this the part where you tell me it doesn’t suit me after all?”
A strange expression flickered across his face. “No, I, uh…”
He’d stopped walking and was staring at her, color rising in his cheeks. Ingrid shook her head and moved to pluck the flower from her hair. His hand darted out and stopped her.
“It complements your complexion,” he said. “And your eyes.”
Ingrid blinked. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Huh? Yeah. I’m fine. Ready to partake in some good ol’ physical exertion.”
Sylvain began walking again, much brisker than before. Ingrid had to jog to keep up. They passed a trio of young women, dressed up for a trip into town, and he didn’t even glance at them. Something was definitely going on.
“Guess it all worked on you, too,” he muttered under his breath.
Ingrid cocked her head. “What worked?”
“The whole lowering expectations thing. If I act useless, no one will expect anything of me. Biting me in the butt now, isn’t it? You really do think I’m worthless.”
“That’s not true.” Except it sort of was. She’d thought for a long time that he was wasting his considerable talents. If he’d only apply himself, he could do so much. That said, she knew what his childhood had been like, although his demeanor made it easy to forget what he’d been through.
Sylvain shrugged. “Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you.”
“You’re one of my dearest friends. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Don’t I?”
Ingrid plucked the flower from behind her ear. It was just a daisy, one with pink along the edges of the petals. Disappointment flickered over Sylvain’s expression as he watched her, so instead of tossing the flower aside, she tucked it into the braid at the back of her head.
“It’ll fall out and distract me during training if it’s in the front,” Ingrid said, inwardly wincing at how defensive she sounded.
Sylvain laced his fingers behind his head and resumed walking. “I’m glad you’re lightening up a little. It’s not good for your health if you’re always worrying.”
“I’m the one who should be giving you the lecture. I’m glad you’ve decided to be serious about something for once.”
“We balance each other nicely then, don’t we?” Sylvain replied with a smile. “I get you to relax, you get me to buckle down. And by the way, I’m serious about more things than you seem to realize.”
Ingrid had no idea what those things might be. Pushing boundaries, maybe. Or finding ways to disgrace his family.
They arrived at the training room and set themselves up in a corner. Ingrid grabbed a training lance while Sylvain picked up an axe. He copied her warmup routine. As she neared the end, an idea came to her. Time to see how much progress he had made.
Ingrid jabbed at him with the lance without warning. It was a cheap shot, since they were still warming up, but war wasn’t fair. To her surprise, his axe came down and deflected the blow. Even more to her surprise, he swung the weapon at her midsection. She jumped away, lance held between her hands in a defensive position. Her blood sang in her ears. She hated killing, but she loved fighting.
Sylvain’s expression turned serious as he swung at her again. She’d never seen such concentration in his face. Instead of their usual mischief, his eyes held determination.
Ingrid parried with her lance and sliced at his ankles. Sylvain danced out of the way, wielding the axe one-handed. It was a training weapon and therefore not nearly as heavy as the one he fought with, but the way he wielded it required considerable strength. That sort of strength only came from dedicated training. It seemed the war had changed her friend in ways she hadn’t participated.
They sparred for a while with those weapons, then Sylvain switched to a lance himself. After a few rounds of that, they transitioned to swords. Ingrid gritted her teeth and stabbed. The sword wasn’t her preferred weapon, but she’d still been training with it all her life.
Sylvain matched her blow for blow. Sweat darkened his hair and plastered it to his forehead. A snarl curled his lip as he stabbed at her throat, and she only just dodged in time. She took advantage of the extension of his arm and aimed for the spot under his armpit, for the gap in his armor. The training blade pressed into his flesh, stopping short of actually wounding him. Sylvain froze, expression grim.
“You got me,” he said, panting.
Ingrid lowered her blade. “It took a lot longer than I thought it would. You’ve really improved. If I’m honest, I envy your natural ability.”
Sylvain shrugged, his usual affable mask sliding into place. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Hey.” Ingrid put her hand on his forearm. “The only thing I expect from you is to live through this war.”
His lips thinned, and he lowered his eyes. “It’s nice to know someone wants me to survive because they care about me and not just because my Crest would be lost if I died. You do care about me, right?”
“Oh, Sylvain.” Ingrid’s heart clenched. “Of course I care about you.”
Ingrid wasn’t much of a hugger, but she could tell when someone needed to be held. Sylvain, despite his masks, had always been a sensitive soul. She put her arms around him as best she could. Their armor made it awkward. He returned the hug, resting his chin on her head. After a moment, he pulled her closer to him.
“You smell good,” he murmured.
Ingrid stiffened and stepped out of his embrace. She opened her mouth to scold him, but the expression on his face sopped her. His cheeks were flushed, and he appeared flustered.
“Is it hot in here? Yeah, it’s hot in here,” Sylvain said. “Help me out of this armor, please?”
She helped him unbuckle his cuirass and pulled off his pauldrons. They had worn heavy layers up north to combat the cold, but those layers weren’t needed in the more temperate climate of Garreg Mach. Sylvain’s armor was heavier than hers and covered more of his body. After a vigorous training session like that, no wonder he was overheating.
Sure enough, when they removed all his upper body armor, his base layer stuck to him like a second skin. Sylvain peeled it off and dropped it on the floor, now stripped to the waist.
Ingrid’s gaze started to wander down his torso, and she ripped it back up to his face. He’d put on a bit of bulk since their Academy days, but not too much. What had really changed was his definition. Every muscle stood out in stark relief. It was evident he’d been training, and hard. No wonder it had been so difficult to best him.
“Do you need some water?” she asked.
“I’m fine—” he began, but she was already on her way.
By the time she returned, Felix and Dorothea were there. Sylvain sat on a bench, still half naked, elbows resting on his knees as Dorothea fussed over him. Something sharp and ugly rippled through Ingrid’s chest at the sight of the brunette touching Sylvain’s bare shoulder. Dorothea had changed into her sword fighting outfit, every curve on full display. Ingrid was fast friends with the songstress, but she suddenly wished the other woman wasn’t treating Sylvain with such familiarity.
“You invited me to spar, and how you’re babying him,” Felix said, arms crossed over his chest.
Dorothea’s eyebrows pulled together in the center. “Don’t you care about your friend? Or are you jealous?”
“As if. He’ll be fine. He just wants the attention.”
Ingrid cleared her throat to announce her presence. Was that all it was? A cry for attention? Sylvain did tend to manipulate the way people paid attention to him. Still, that expression on his face, that look in his eyes… He hadn’t seemed like he was pretending.
“Here.” She held out the water skin.
Instead of taking it from her, Sylvain put his hands over her gauntlets. “Thanks.”
“When are you going to start making him look after himself?” Felix said, frowning at Ingrid. “You’ve always been cleaning up his messes and taking care of him.”
“That’s what friends do.”
Felix shook his head.
Dorothea gazed at him, expression pitying. She rubbed Sylvain’s shoulder. “Everyone needs someone to look after them.”
“Not me,” Felix said. “I’m fine on my own.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Dorothea said.
Heat rose in Ingrid’s cheeks. Sylvain hadn’t stopped looking at her like she was his savior. Finally, he took the water skin and drank.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Don’t let yourself get in that situation again,” she said. Suddenly, she wanted to be anywhere but here, with Dorothea touching him like that. Sylvain hardly noticed. That’s how used to it he must be. Maybe Dorothea touched him other places, too. The thought made her want to throw up.
“Have a good night,” she said. “I’m off to a bath and bed.”
Sylvain moved as if to follow, but Ingrid hurried out of the training room and was gone.