Chapter Text
Felix has mastered every skill required to make an accomplished assassin. Nimble as a cat, he knows how to move without making a sound, how to strike down a target without being seen. While he specializes in the use of daggers, he's proficient with the sword, the bow, the crossbow, and even a few spells. He is not, however, practiced in the art of seduction.
"My brother is a deviant," his client told him the first time they met, "He'll stick his cock in anything walking on two legs. With a face like yours, you'll have no difficulty getting him alone."
He would have liked to take a more dignified approach, but if there's one thing he's learned about his target after a week of observation; it's that Sylvain Jose Gautier is hardly ever on his own. Most of the time, the nobleman is hounded by his bodyguard — a young, blonde woman going by the name Ingrid. While in an unconventional position, she appears more than qualified for the job, and he would rather not have to fight his way past her defenses to get to her charge. Whenever the two of them are apart, it's usually because Sylvain has run off to visit a tavern or brothel. Crowded places with too many potential witnesses.
Felix isn't likely to find a good opportunity to catch him alone anytime soon if he doesn't actively seek to lure him away somewhere hidden from view, and much like his client insinuates, the easiest way to do that is by appealing to Sylvain's pleasure-seeking habits.
And so he leaves his hooded cloak and lightweight leather armor behind to don a dark blue brocade tunic over a white silk shirt. His daggers are carefully hidden, one up his sleeve, one strapped to his thigh, and the third in his left boot. Finally he smooths his hair back, tying it up with a white ribbon. The words "With a face like yours, you'll have no difficulty getting him alone" echo in his mind as he frowns at himself in the mirror. He's not certain he'll have such an easy time competing with Sylvain's other suitors, but he doesn't need to outshine them for long. A few minutes should be enough.
He goes to the tavern Sylvain frequents, recognizing a few of his usual hanger-ons already settled around a table in the back, drinking and chatting loudly among themselves. He's chosen the right time. Less than half an hour later, Sylvain himself enters with a girl on each arm, all three of them laughing at some shared joke. Sylvain's laugh is loud and boisterous. Obnoxious.
Felix doesn't approach him right away. He bides his time, waiting until he's had a few drinks among his companions — until he can hear the alcohol start to affect his speech. Only then does he motion a serving girl over, asking her to bring his compliments and another mug of ale to the red haired gentleman. It's an old trick, but it's among the few his pride will allow him to use.
"What's this?" he hears Sylvain ask in amusement a moment later, "My sweet Annalise, you don't need to bring me free ale if you wish to chat with me. Please, have a sea-"
"It's not from me," the girl bluntly interrupts, "It's from the man over there. The one with the ponytail."
Predictably, a hush falls over the table. Felix doesn't need to glance over to know they're all looking his way. The silence is broken by the scrape of a chair as someone stands, and then gradually conversation starts to flow once more.
"Since it's your treat," Sylvain says, eyeing him with great interest as he claims the seat next to him by the bar, "the least I could do is drink with you. I wasn't told your name."
"Your company is very welcome," Felix says, forcing a bashful smile, "My name is Filip."
"I'm Sylvain. What brings you to Gautier, Filip?"
He needs to come up with a better alias.
"I’m headed for the border,” he replies, “I’ve been offered work as a mercenary. This will be my last night enjoying the comforts of civilized society for a while.”
"Then you caught sight of me and thought you'd like someone good-looking to enjoy it with?" Sylvain asks with the kind of arrogant confidence he'd be annoyed by if it wasn't making his job easier.
"A bold assumption," Felix tells him, taking a sip of his own, watered down, mug of ale "but you're not wrong."
Sylvain looks beyond pleased with himself. "Say," he practically purrs, "I know the tavernkeep quite well. I'm sure he wouldn't mind letting us borrow a room upstairs for a couple of hours."
He's almost making it too easy at this point.
Felix didn't plan to kiss him, but they've barely made it upstairs before he has Sylvain's mouth on his own, tasting of dark ale and honeyed wine. He's a good kisser. Distractingly good. For a second, Felix almost forgets what he's here for, willingly parting his lips to welcome Sylvain's tongue. With considerable effort, he manages to shift his thoughts back towards his task. He lets the dagger hidden up his sleeve fall into his hand, grasping it tightly. This is his chance.
Blindly, he tilts the blade to aim for the kidney - and then his legs give out from under him as Sylvain delivers a swift kick to his shin. Before he has a chance to recover, he's being yanked back up by the wrist, his dagger clattering to the floor when Sylvain twists his arm painfully. Next thing he knows, he's being pressed face first against the wall, both arms pinned behind his back. He tries to wrench himself free, but Sylvain is a lot stronger than he expected.
"Why is it always the prettiest ones that approach me with the ugliest intentions?" He can hear him lament, "I was really looking forward to having you too."
"Let go, you filth." Felix growls.
"One moment," Sylvain says, using the weight of his upper body to keep him pinned as he feels around his lower back and thighs.
Felix starts to struggle, utterly scandalised until he realises he's merely patting him down for weapons. Reluctantly, he stops moving. If he's lucky, Sylvain might miss one of his daggers.
He's not lucky.
Clenching his jaw tightly in annoyance, he remains quiet as Sylvain unbuckles the strap securing the second dagger to his upper thigh before the third is drawn from the sheath hidden in his boot. Finally he's released, and he turns around only to be faced with the point of one of his own daggers aimed at his neck. The humiliation of it is much worse than the fear.
"Before I consider letting you go," Sylvain sneers "I have something to ask you."
"You want to know who sent me." Felix says. He won't tell him. Though he dislikes his employer, he wants to hold onto what little pride he has left as an assassin.
"Oh I know who sent you," Sylvain says, his grin broadening, "This isn't the first time my brother tries to have me killed. At least you weren't stupid enough to attack me while Ingrid's around. I want to ask you to work for me."
"You think you can bribe me into killing my employer?" Felix asks. Part of him wishes he could. He doesn't care for Sylvain, but he's a better man than Miklan, no doubt.
"I have no interest in killing my brother," Sylvain replies, a bitter note seeping into his voice, "That's not the kind of work I'm talking about."
Felix is at a loss. What other reason is there to hire a killer? He already has a bodyguard, and surely he can find someone more likely to be loyal if he needs a spy. "Then what do you want me to do?"
“Pretend to be my lover.” Sylvain says.
“...What?" Felix asks, too shocked to be angry right away, "I… What!? I’m a killer, not a prostitute, you swine!”
“I said pretend," Sylvain reminds him, clearly amused by his reaction, "We don’t actually need to sleep together. Unless you’d like to, of course, but I won’t pay extra for it. I just want you to act lovey-dovey with me in public.”
"For what purpose?"
"To get back at Miklan," Sylvain says, lowering the dagger, though his stance tells Felix he hasn't lowered his guard, "It'll infuriate him if the guy he sent to seduce me ends up being seduced. There's another reason as well. People are always throwing themselves at me for my wealth. I could use a break from it. If they think I'm already taken by a beauty like yourself, those who only want to marry into my family will lose interest, and those who remain in my life, well… they might be people worth keeping around, you know?"
"This is ridiculous," Felix says, scowling, "How much?"
"Huh?"
"How much are you paying me?"
Sylvain considers it for a moment. "How about five thousand gold pieces a month?"
Felix gives him a wary look. That's a lot of gold for such a simple task. Under different circumstances he would decline, but accepting this offer will ensure he gets to be alone with Sylvain again in the near future. If he plays his cards better next time, he might still complete his mission and redeem himself as an assassin.
"Fine. I'll do it."