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“Alright, that’s what I’m talking about!” Claude’s voice rang through the banquet hall, silencing the crowd. “Now everyone, give it up for the best man, Sylvain Gautier!”
Sylvain, suddenly confronted by the eyes of everyone in the room, stood up. He was ready for this. He was prepared for this.
“A toast to the groom!” He lifted his liquid courage; Dorothea and Ferdinand’s shadows were visible through the champagne flute. He could see them smiling at each other.
“To the groom!” The crowd cried back.
“To the bride!” Dorothea looked stunning in her gown; her brown hair was tied up into an intricate bun and her cheeks were rosy from Ferdinand’s love.
“To the bride!” The excitement amongst the crowd grew and Dorothea beamed at him. Sylvain wanted nothing more but to down his drink, but he continued.
“From your brother, who's always by your side!”
“Sylvain! Sylvain!” The other Blue Lions were cheering him on; he shot a quick smile at them.
“To your union!”
This gave the crowd a good rise. “To the Union! To Fodlan!”
“And the hope that you provide! May you always be satisfied.”
Satisfied. Satisfied.
***
Sylvain would regret that night for the rest of his days.
He remembered, briefly, the girls trying to win his praise. The candlelight warmed the air around them as he moved across the room, pressing his lips to the hands of any number of eligible bachelorettes. Sylvain knew, of course, why his father decided to hold this ball: he was to find a wife. So he went around the room, playing the role of the most eligible bachelor in all of Faeghus, save for Prince Dimitri himself. Most of the night was a blur, but he would never forget the first time he saw her face.
He had never been the same. Her intelligent eyes and her hunger pang frame captivated him; when she said “Hi,” he almost forgot his name. She had set his heart aflame, every part aflame. He was not the same.
“You strike me as a man who’s never been satisfied.”
Sylvain’s lips thinned. “I’m not sure what you mean; you forget yourself.”
Dorothea gave a small chuckle. “You’re like me. I’m never satisfied.”
“Is that right?”
She smiled. “I’ve never been satisfied.”
He pulled her hands towards him and kissed it lightly.
“My name is Sylvain Gautier.”
“Dorothea Arnault.”
“Where’s your family from?” He said it before he could stop himself; perhaps the ever-suffocating presence of his father overtook him.
“Unimportant.” She brushed him off quickly; her hands shook slightly, but just enough for Sylvain to notice.
Their conversation lasted two, maybe three minutes, and yet, Sylvain wanted nothing more but to whisk her away from this dreary ball and into his own private quarters. She electrified him; he wanted to drown her soft green eyes and billowing brown hair. Sylvain was about to pull her away but then he looked over her shoulder and saw his brother’s face.
He was completely helpless.
Then, all at once, it dawned on him.
“Where are you taking me?” Dorothea asked. Sylvain’s grip was a bit too tight on Dorothea as he led her across the ballroom floor.
“I’m about to change your life.” Our lives.
“Then by all means, lead the way.”
Sylvain knew that he couldn’t have Dorothea. He was the oldest son of one of the oldest houses in Faeghus; he had to marry within his social status to maintain their bloodline. He was the oldest, the wittiest, and the gossip in Fhirdiad was insidious, and Dorothea was nameless.
That didn’t mean he wanted her any less.
“Ferdinand Gautier. It’s a pleasure to meet you” He bowed to them.
Dorothea shot Sylvain a puzzled look. “Gautier?”
“My brother.”
“Thank you for all of your service,” Dorothea curtised.
Ferdinand took her hand and kissed it lightly. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it was worth it.”
Ferdinand’s excitement was nearly bouncing off of him. Sylvain needed to excuse himself. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Sylvain knew that if he had ever told Ferdinand of his feelings for Dorothea, he would give her up in an instant. Ferdie would reassure him that he was fine, but Sylvain knew he would be lying.
But when Sylvain would lie awake at night, it was Dorothea he would fantasise about. What could have been if he didn’t seize her up so quickly.
Well, at least his dear Ferdie was her husband. At least he could keep her in his life.
—-
“To the groom! To the bride! From your brother, who’s always by your side!” The tears began to well in his eyes.
“To your union, and to the hope that you provide!” They slipped down his face, hot and heavy, but he continued, despite his vision blurring.
“May you always be satisfied.” The crowd cheered and the rush of alcohol hit his lips. He set his glass down to see Dorothea and Ferdinand share another kiss.
She would never be satisfied. He would never be satisfied.