Chapter Text
This is your betrothed, Dimitri. Sylvain of House Gautier. Go on, say hello.
Wild crimson hair tied into low ponytail at the base of a pale neck. Soft honey eyes set into half-moons in a smile. A smell of the sweetest berries in the snow. A smile warmer than any spring sun he’d seen. A laugh more beautiful than any music he’d heard.
--
Dimitri blinked up at the dark ceiling. It was the first he’d dreamed of something else than his usual nightmares since the Tragedy of Duscur. A glance to the window told him it was still late at night with dawn still hours to go. The moon shone high in the sky and cast a cool light into the room and onto the young man sleeping soundly beside him.
It’d been a while since he’d dreamed of the first time he’d met Sylvain. He’d been just four and Sylvain had been six. He’d heard about Sylvain before their actual meeting, of course – the Omega of House Gautier that he’d been betrothed to since birth. But he’d fallen completely in love with him (if a four-year-old could fall in love) at first sight. Perhaps it was the way the winter sun had glinted off Sylvain’s crimson hair to make it come alight. Perhaps it was the way Sylvain’s honey-brown eyes crinkled when he laughed. Perhaps it was the way he smelled of sweet, fresh snowberries that only grew on Gautier land.
He hadn’t known what it was back then. He just wanted to see Sylvain always. He remembered fighting over Sylvain’s attention whenever he and Felix and Ingrid were at the Gautier household. It usually ended with Felix crying, Ingrid scolding the two of them for fighting, and Sylvain giggling in the background. He remembered making a fuss when his father told him it was time to leave. He remembered pouting until his father promised he’d see his betrothed again soon.
He remembered finding the first bruises on Sylvain’s arms that Sylvain laughed about and confessed he’d been clumsy with training. But then he kept finding more. And more. And they kept getting worse. They’d demanded to know what was happening, and Sylvain just kept making excuses that none of them believed until Felix and Dimitri walked in on Miklan beating Sylvain within an inch of his life, foot slammed on his throat and pressing downward. Dimitri had seen red and his Crest had flared to life as he tackled Miklan off a whimpering Sylvain, sending him crashing through the bookshelves.
Sylvain had begged them not to say anything to anyone. That it was okay; that he was okay. Dimitri had never been able to refuse his betrothed anything, and he couldn’t do so then, not when Sylvain was bleeding and bruised and crying and clutching onto his sleeves, begging him on his knees. So he’d instead told Miklan that if this continued, if he ever saw a single bruise on Sylvain again, that he would personally see Miklan executed for harming the future queen consort. It had worked and Miklan no longer touched Sylvain, but his hate toward his younger brother grew worse, festering and rotting and becoming something uncontrollable.
Dimitri lifted Sylvain’s wrist to his nose. The faint smell of sweet berries filled his senses. He wondered, sometimes, if he’d made everything worse. Dimitri never found out why Miklan had been publicly disowned by the Margrave Gautier, and he didn’t care. What he did care about was that hours after, Miklan disappeared into the wild, but not before pushing his younger brother into an abandoned well.
He remembered being at the Gautier household when it happened. The margrave had probably wanted to publicly disown him when the crown prince and the other respected Faerghus houses were present. He’d gone seeking Sylvain afterward, knowing Sylvain would have been distraught. He instead found Sylvain’s ponytail, cut roughly right above the ribbon he used to keep it tied, lying in the glass shards of a broken window. Both royal soldiers and Gautier soldiers had been employed to find him. Sylvain had been found almost a full day later, half-drowned and hypothermic with broken ribs and a shattered wrist. When he recovered over two weeks later, Dimitri had him brought immediately to the castle.
Sylvain said nothing as Dimitri chained his ankles to keep him confined to the heavily guarded room in the castle. The room was large and spacious and Dimitri filled it with all the things Sylvain could ever want. Felix and Ingrid balked. Felix yelled and got into a brawl with Dimitri, Ingrid tried reasoning and crying, but Dimitri shut them out. Because Sylvain still smiled at him just as brightly and beautifully as the first time they’d met. He couldn’t lose Sylvain, not after the Tragedy had taken everything else away from him. He couldn’t lose the one person he had left in this entire world.
He must have jostled his beloved more than he thought because sleep-heavy honey eyes blinked open. “Your Majesty?”
“Sylvain.” Dimitri blushed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Sylvain propped himself up on his elbows and sat up. He looked concerned and he reached out gently. “Is it your nightmares again?”
Dimitri took Sylvain’s hand and brought it up to his nose again, pressing his lips against Sylvain’s palms. A little over a year ago, Sylvain’s palms had been calloused from his training. But since the Tragedy of Duscur, when Dimitri had forbidden the margrave from letting Sylvain be anywhere outside for fear of assassination, and then when Dimitri had Sylvain brought over to the palace, Sylvain hadn’t held a lance in his hands. The callouses had now all but faded and Dimitri pressed his lips to the soft skin there. He pulled Sylvain closer so Sylvain was resting on his chest. “No, nothing of the sort. I… dreamed of the day we first met, actually.”
Sylvain looked up. His position was awkward as Sylvain had always been taller than Dimitri so he was hunched over, but he didn’t seem to mind. His eyes twinkled. “I remember that day. It was so cold.”
Dimitri chuckled. “It was, indeed.”
Sylvain hummed. “I remember your hair sparkled.”
“Oh?” Dimitri started. It was his first time hearing the day from Sylvain’s perspective.
“Yeah. You were so small back then with hair that came down to your shoulders.” Sylvain reached up to Dimitri’s shoulder as if to demonstrate. After a pause, he teased, “Well, you’re still smaller than I am. But I remember your hair sparkled. I thought maybe royalty had diamonds dusted into their hair. And your eyes were so blue.” Sylvain smiled sadly. “I remember how brightly you smiled back then. I wish I could give that world back to you.” Dimitri didn’t answer and Sylvain sat up straight to instead take Dimitri into his arms. “It’ll be okay, Your Majesty. The regent’s rule… it’s not great, but you’ll be of age soon. You can start building a better world soon, getting to the bottom of what happened at Duscur, and I’ll be there for you every step of the way.”
--
“You must stay inside.”
“Your Majesty, don’t worry.” Sylvain shook his foot to demonstrate and the chains rattled to make their presence known. “I’m staying here. You know that.”
Dimitri paced. Sylvain thought he looked so odd in his armor. A child not even sixteen years old yet in full armor. It made his stomach churn a little. The metal clattered softly as Dimitri moved with Areadbhar in his hands. For a moment, Sylvain wondered where the Lance of Ruin was and then pushed the thought back. He’d put that life behind him and given up on ever going back to it, at least not until Dimitri went back to normal. Plus, he knew where it was. In his father’s grip. Sylvain had a theory that Matthias slept with it clutched in his hand. Dimitri turned on his heels to stop pacing and took Sylvain’s hands. He kept his eyes on Sylvain’s hands. “Stop letting the tasters skip your meals. Please, remember the time you fell ill.”
“I promise. Although I have to point out that wasn’t because the food was poisoned. I was just allergic to the nuts.”
Dimitri looked up at him and Sylvain flinched. He could see the despair and madness he’d first seen after the Tragedy when Dimitri came into the Gautier manor and demanded to be presented Sylvain at once. Sylvain had been rushed down from his bedroom, half-asleep and dressed only in his nightgown, and he’d been shocked awake from the half-crazed look in Dimitri’s eyes.
Sylvain recognized that moment as the day his life changed. Training regimen (which, if he were being honest with himself, he was lazy about anyway) was taken from him. He was still allowed any book he wanted to read, but he was no longer allowed to step foot outside the Gautier manor, disallowed even in the gardens for fear of an assassin. Dimitri’s fear of an assassin. All of his food was tried by a servant beforehand before he was allowed to eat it. Miklan used to laugh in his face about it until a year after when he pushed him down the well. The rest was history.
Despite Felix and Ingrid’s horror about his fancy prison, Sylvain convinced them he was fine. If being chained so he was unable to leave his room gave Dimitri at least one peace of mind, Sylvain was happy to do it. He knew that Rufus’ people snickered about him, but he was used to being sneered at all his life. At least no one did it straight to his face with Dedue present.
He wasn’t allowed to step foot outside his room, so he couldn't even bid Dimitri goodbye. Dimitri was heading to quell the rebellion in the west. Sylvain had been told Felix would be joining the crown prince, which he supposed was news to make him feel better. It actually made him feel worse. He could be losing two of his oldest friends in the battle. He had an inkling that Rufus was sending Dimitri and Felix to their deaths. He shuddered and thought about Rufus’ hungry eyes on him and decided he wasn’t going to think about it.
He stood at the windows to watch the horses leave. Dimitri glanced back often and Sylvain knew his bright red hair was visible from far (it was one of the reasons Dimitri didn’t like it when he stood near windows – he made an easy target for an archer), so he stood there, squinting at the sun as it sank past the mountains and the company turned into tiny dots on the horizon.
He turned back to his room. He was so very alone, with not a person to call his ally in the entire building.
--
“He’s not human anymore.”
Sylvain blanched. “Felix, watch your mouth. This is His Majesty you’re talking about.”
Sylvain had heard that Dimitri’s army had won an overwhelming victory quelling the western rebellion. Dedue had ridden back first, no doubt at Dimitri’s orders. It would work both ways – to bring Sylvain news that Dimitri was safe and also to make sure that Sylvain was still doing well and staying obedient in his room as Dedue would ride back immediately if either of those things were not the case.
Dimitri and Felix had returned a week after and while the victory flag waved over them, neither looked happy. Dimitri had held onto Sylvain for hours before even taking his armor off, pressing Sylvain against his bloodied breastplate without a single word. Sylvain thought he might throw up from the mix of blood and Dimitri’s own scent soured by battle. He’d left only when he was called by the regent and Felix had come taken his place.
Felix had been furious. He’d stamped around, yelling curses about how their old childhood friend was no longer someone they knew, that he was a wild animal thirsty for blood. “He was smiling as he slew them all.” Felix hissed. “I’ve known he wasn’t in his right mind, but now I realize he’s gone completely mad.”
Sylvain glanced worriedly at Dedue. “Felix!”
Felix spun around and pinned Dedue with a glare. Dedue didn’t seem fazed. “I don’t care. I said so to the boar’s face. If he’s going to cut me down for it, well, I won’t go down quietly.”
“Boar?” Sylvain repeated, hoping for Felix’s sake that it wasn’t what he thought.
Dedue replied instead, “His Majesty.” He looked impassive as he always did, but Sylvain felt the blood rush from his face. Sylvain knew Dedue was Dimitri’s man through and through. A reassuring thought most times, but not now when Felix might be sentenced to treason. “Do not worry, Your Highness. Felix is telling the truth when he says he has said such to His Majesty directly. It does not trouble His Majesty.”
“Don’t call me that, Dedue,” Sylvain replied, mostly out of reflex. He gnawed at his lip. “I don’t suppose you’d give us some privacy?”
Dedue shook his head firmly. “I am under orders to keep you in my sight at all times. I’m afraid that I can’t leave you.”
Felix spat angrily, “Of course he can’t. The boar’s got his personal dog doing his every bidding. He’s gone completely mad and bloodthirsty, and he’s..” Felix’s gaze fell to Sylvain’s chained ankles. He gritted his teeth and drew his blade before either Sylvain or Dedue could react. Sylvain raised a hand when Dedue moved, gauntlets creaking as he wrapped his fingers around his axe and Dedue paused. For now. “I can take you from here.” Felix whispered. “I can cut those chains from you and take you far, far from here. Somewhere he can’t reach us.”
“Felix.” Sylvain clenched his fists. “You can’t.”
“I can cut those chains as easily as the boar can slice through human flesh. All you have to do is say the word and we can go far from here where no one can find us. We’ll be free from all this. You’ll be free from all this.”
Dedue stepped in between them. His axe was drawn. “I won’t let you take His Highness.”
“I’d like to see you try to stop me.”
Sylvain tugged on Dedue’s arm. “Enough! Both of you, stop. Stay your weapons. Dedue, lower your axe. Felix, sheathe your sword. Now.” Dedue obeyed first, lowering his weapon but keeping his hand still gripped tightly around the handle. Felix didn’t bother sheathing his sword, but Sylvain knew he couldn’t make him listen. So he turned to Dedue instead. “Dedue, you can relax. I’m not going anywhere. I can’t. You’re right, Felix. The madness in His Majesty’s eyes… I’ve seen it since the day he came back from the Tragedy. But that’s why I can’t leave him. I’m the only thing keeping him tethered. If I were to leave, he’d go completely mad. I can’t have that happen.”
“Why is it up to you to do this?” Felix snapped. “Because you’re his betrothed? Not even by your own choice?” His hands were trembling in anger and Sylvain bit his lip. “You don’t owe him anything.”
Sylvain smiled sadly. “Felix, I love him. I have to stay. If that makes you leave, I understand.”
Silence hung over them. Felix’s eyes were hard. After a long stretch of silence, Felix slowly sheathed his sword. “If you have to stay because you love him, then you should understand why I must stay.” He turned and pushed past Dedue. “But my offer stays.”
Sylvain wished he could watch Felix leave, but his chains didn’t quite reach the doorway. He sighed when he could no longer hear Felix’s footsteps down the hall. “He doesn’t mean it, you know.” He told Dedue. “He cares about His Majesty.”
“Yes.” Dedue nodded. “He is angry because he cares. It makes me less wary than if he had no reaction. I have come to understand that you, Ingrid, and Felix would never betray His Majesty. Although I have no doubts he also meant what he said when he said he would free you from your chains, I also have no doubts you would not leave His Majesty’s side, and therefore that would not happen.”
Sylvain smiled. “Yeah.” He rubbed his temples. “..Dedue.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Don’t call me that. Did you feel the same way as Felix? That His Majesty was…” Sylvain struggled and ultimately settled on the same word Felix had. “Bloodthirsty? I know you have no duties to me, but please be honest.”
Dedue looked uneasy, and that was enough of an answer for Sylvain. A man who rarely showed his feelings looking like that when asked about his liege. Sylvain bit the insides of his lip. He’d been concerned about Dimitri ever since the Tragedy but he couldn’t have imagined the extent. A part of him wished he could have seen it so he had a better idea of how to help, but the way Felix and Dedue reacted made him think it was better he had not – he didn’t know if he would be able to treat Dimitri the same after seeing it.
The door clicked open and Dimitri walked back in, looking tired but freshly bathed and out of his armor. He walked over to Sylvain in three wide strides and pulled him into an embrace again. Sylvain had to balance awkwardly hunched over but he said nothing and held him back. Dimitri was back to smelling like his usual self of the Faerghus winds: cold and icy and strong. Dimitri carded his fingers through Sylvain’s hair and breathed his scent in. He spoke to Dedue but kept his gaze on Sylvain. “Has Felix gone?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. You’ve just missed him.”
“I see. I don’t think he’s left the castle yet – make sure he and the Fraldarius soldiers are well prepared for their ride back home. Please also arrange a messenger to Ingrid and tell her both Felix and I made it safely back. No doubt she has heard of our victory already, but we should still tell her personally. She will be fretting until she hears from us. And get some rest, Dedue.”
Dedue bowed and left. Once the door clicked shut, Dimitri sighed and slid to the floor, taking Sylvain with him. “I’m back.”
Sylvain nodded against Dimitri’s chest. He was glad Dimitri couldn’t see his mixed expression because he didn’t know how Dimitri would respond. He forced himself to instead say, “Welcome back. I missed you.” He lifted his face once he was certain he was able to push all his mixed emotions down. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“Minor injuries from battle. None that you need to be concerned about.” Dimitri sighed and buried his face in Sylvain’s hair again. “Were you all right? Did the servants treat you well? I picked up some books on the way back. The spoils are being sorted through at the moment, but you will have them soon.” He pressed his lips to Sylvain’s cheek and smiled softly. Sylvain couldn’t imagine how this person could be a bloodthirsty boar on the battlefield. He found himself selfishly wishing he would never see it. “It’s getting difficult to find books that you haven’t already read.”
Sylvain sat up. “Oh, related to that. I was wondering if you’d mind if I asked Dedue to teach me Duscur.”
Dimitri blinked. “You want to learn the Duscur tongue?”
“Well, once you become king, you want to mend relations with Duscur, right? You’ll have Dedue with you, but your queen knowing the language will help a lot, I think.” Sylvain sat back on his ankles. Dimitri took his hands and stroked his fingers lovingly, and he couldn’t help but sigh – half in happiness, half in relief. “I’ve been brushing up on my Srenge while you were gone, too. I did get a bunch of weird looks when I requested books in Srenge though. Ultimately I ended up getting none so I just ended up writing what I remembered down on paper.“
“What?”
“Hm? I mean, you know that I know some Srenge, right? The Gautier children are taught it because we’re so close to their borders. My Srenge’s definitely rusty, but-“
“No.” Dimitri’s voice was frigid. “You requested something and you didn’t get a response?”
Sylvain felt his blood chill. The conversation had taken a different direction than the one he’d meant. He tried to catch Dimitri’s gaze and found he couldn’t. He whispered softly, “Your Majesty?”
Dimitri’s eyes were unreadable and flashed crimson instead of their usual blue. “Who were the servants you made the request to?”
Sylvain heard the alarms going off in his head and sat up straighter, his head racing to figure out a way to calm Dimitri down. “Your Majesty, no – I don’t remember who they were. They must’ve thought I wasn’t serious. I usually get everything I ask for. It’s not a big deal.”
“You normally ask for nothing. You are telling me that the future queen consort requested a mere book, and you were ignored?” Dimitri stood abruptly, leaving Sylvain on the floor. Sylvain saw it then – a glimpse of the wild animal that Felix had seen. His stomach churned and Sylvain knew he had to do something. Dimitri made to leave, so Sylvain threw himself at his legs and clutched at them. Dimitri tried to push him off so he hung on tighter. When he looked up, he realized Dimitri’s eyes were unfocused and unseeing in their fury. He bit his lips, squeezed his eyes shut, and willed his scent to fill the room.
The sweet scent of the Gautier snowberries filled the room and Sylvain felt Dimitri jerk in his grasp. A second later, a gentle hand fell on his head, and a moment after that, Dimitri knelt back on the ground. “Your Majesty.” Sylvain sighed in relief. “It’s fine. I promise. They probably just couldn’t find any.”
Dimitri cupped his cheek. “I’ve frightened you.”
“…A little. But it’s all right now.”
Dimitri sighed. “I’m sorry, Sylvain. I don’t know what came over me. I must still be running on the adrenaline of battle.” He smiled apologetically and coaxed Sylvain to the plush chairs by Sylvain’s reading table. “...But know that even in my wildest rage, I will never harm a hair on your head. You need not be afraid of me.”
It’s not me I’m scared for, Sylvain thought, but only smiled in response.
--
All things considered, Sylvain was surprised that Dimitri fought as hard as he did to convince Rufus to allow him to attend the Officer’s Academy. It might have helped his cause that Matthias, Dimitri, and Rodrigue were all on Sylvain’s side for this. Sylvain wondered if Rufus initially denying him attendance at the Academy was because he was planning to have him offed somehow while Dimitri was at the Officer’s Academy. He certainly knew that was what his father was concerned about – not that he’d lose his son, of course, but that he’d lose Gautier’s ticket to royalty.
He shivered involuntarily when Dimitri undid the chains from his ankles. Even though they were crafted by the best silversmith in Faerghus and weighed almost nothing despite being almost unbreakable, Sylvain felt like he could almost fly. Dimitri refused to let Sylvain ride in the open air on horseback, which was a little disappointing, but sat with him in the caravan and held his hand the entire way.
When they reached Garreg Mach, Ingrid scolding him as he jumped out of the caravan made him laugh and she beamed at him, just as happy to see him. They’d been writing to each other, but it had been a while since he had seen her in person. When she hugged him tight, she smelled of rich balsam and it was just as comforting as he remembered. “Your Majesty,” she greeted, and Dimitri greeted her with a tight hug as well.
Dimitri greeted the rest of the Blue Lions warmly. Sylvain recognized Annette and Ashe’s names – Annette, the Omega niece to Lord Dominic, and Ashe, the adopted Omega son of Lord Lonato. He’d also heard of Mercedes (an Alpha) because of her time at the Royal School of Sorcery and had researched her complicated back story. It was a little surprising to see just how young Ashe and Annette looked even though they were only a year younger than Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid. He was further surprised to find out that he was not the oldest in the House, but rather that Mercedes was by a little over three years.
The House makeup was not terrible, he thought, later in his room. Dimitri had assigned him to the room farthest down the hall from the stairs, into the corner room that was originally meant for Dimitri. It was nice to have his own space even if it was much smaller than the room Dimitri kept him in at the palace. He was finally free from his chains and had a space to be truly private in.
He pushed that for later and reconsidered his House. Six Crest Bearers. Five nobles, two commoners, and one noble-born turned commoner. Four Alphas, a Beta, and three Omegas. Not terrible. Could be more diverse, but not the worst. Definitely better in the noble-to-commoner ratio than the Black Eagles, with more Omegas than either of the other Houses.
He’d only gotten a glimpse of the other Houses as the official opening ceremony was to be tomorrow. He knew all of the Black Eagles. The leader, Imperial Princess Edelgard, her retainer Hubert, and the nobles Ferdinand and Caspar were all Alphas. Dorothea, the famous songstress, was their only commoner and also an Alpha. Bernadetta and Linhardt were Omegas, and their only Beta was Princess Petra of Brigid.
He knew less of the Golden Deers. He of course knew Claude, their House leader and another Alpha, as well as the other nobles in his House – Hilda, Lorenz, Lysithea, and Marianne, all Alphas except the Omega Marianne. He didn’t have much information about the commoners in the house and he made a mental note to fix that as quickly as he could.
He leaned back in his chair and almost fell when a knock at his door startled him. “Your Majesty?” He called, almost certain it had to be.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Felix said instead, opening the door. His eyes fell to Sylvain’s ankles. “Good to see you finally out of those goddamned chains.”
Sylvain sighed. “Can you please close the door? We have ears to be worried about now.”
Felix rolled his eyes but did as Sylvain asked. “The boar’s with the other House Leaders talking to Lady Rhea about details on how the classes are taught and such and about the ceremony tomorrow. How are you doing?”
Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be doing okay?”
“It’s your first time out in years. Ingrid suggested you might find it disorienting and that I check in on you while she talked to Ashe and Annette. Ashe..” Felix grimaced. “He seems to have put us on some kind of pedestal. Completely threw me off guard. Came at me with some kind of romance about chivalry and knighthood.”
Sylvain winced. Felix was definitely not the person to go for that. Not after Glenn. “I hope you didn’t crush some kid’s dreams.”
Felix glared. “He’s only a year younger than I am, although he definitely does feel much younger. But no, I didn’t tell him how stupid chivalry and knighthood is. Does that make you feel better?”
Sylvain chuckled. If Ashe didn’t get scared by Felix snapping at him, he had a chance at surviving this knighthood thing. “Is Ingrid our mother?”
“She certainly believes so.” He sat on the edge of Sylvain’s bed. “..It’s good to see you like this. I missed it.” By yourself and not chained to a room, Felix meant, although he did not say it. Felix stare at Sylvain's chainless ankles before finally asking, “Do you sometimes wish you weren’t an Omega?”
Sylvain didn’t answer immediately. He’d thought about it often, especially during the first few days of being chained inside the royal palace. But he’d come to his conclusion. “We were born the way we were. No changing that. Honestly, if I could change one thing about myself, I’d get rid of my Crest. It’s caused me more issues than my gender has.” Sylvain kept his tone light, but he knew that Felix understood.
Fortunately for Sylvain, before the conversation could get more serious, Ashe and Annette announced themselves shyly at his door. Felix opened the door for them, and both looked completely taken aback. Sylvain could read the confusion on their faces as plain as day – an Alpha that was not His Majesty? In the future Queen Consort’s room? The two of them, just by themselves? He could almost see steam pouring from Annette’s ears as she tried to get her mind to work around this and decided to take mercy on her. “There’s no need to worry. His Majesty and Ingrid and Felix and I are all childhood friends. His Majesty trusts the three of us with everything and anything and we would never do anything to betray him. Including dirty things behind his back.” He winked, and Annette blushed.
Felix snorted, understanding what had caused Annette to blush so profoundly. “Of all things to be worried about…” He stepped aside to let the two in. “I’ll let the three of you get acquainted. Don’t forget that dinner is at six. The boar expects all of the Blue Lions to be there for our first dinner together.”
“I’ll make sure we’re on time!” Ashe quipped, voice bright and energetic. After Felix left, Ashe dropped his voice to a whisper. “I-is that okay? That he calls His Majesty that?”
Sylvain smiled. He, Ingrid, and Dimitri had gotten so used to it in the past two years that they no longer even recognized it as something of an issue. Even Duke Fraldarius had given up. “I certainly wouldn’t promote it, but don’t worry about it. By the way, I’m sorry that Ingrid sent you two here – she did do that, right? I could’ve gone and found you.”
Annette beamed. “Oh, that’s no worries, Your Highness! Ingrid actually didn’t send us here – she just suggested that we find some time to talk and that she’d also tell you, but Ashe and I wanted to explore the second floor anyway.”
Sylvain winced. “Don’t – please don’t call me that. Just Sylvain. Please.” Annette and Ashe blinked at him, and they reminded him of a pair of owlets with their large round eyes. “We’re not wed yet. I’m not the Queen Consort. I’m just Sylvain. The fanciest title I am right now would be Lord Gautier, and please, please do not call me that.”
Ashe looked around nervously even though there was no one else in Sylvain’s room. “But… you will be soon, won’t you? I’m not sure if it’s so proper to go addressing the queen of our country by his name…”
“Please. Really. The only person who calls me that is Dedue, and I’m really trying hard to get him to stop calling me that, too. I much prefer that my friends call me Sylvain. And that stands even when His Majesty and I wed.” He smiled as warmly as he knew at them, and it seemed to ease their nerves.
Annette smelled like fresh summer oranges. It was perfect for her bubbly personality and matched her bright hair perfectly. Ashe smelled of clear peppermint, sharp and bright. He could see they were scenting him too, although not as discreetly as he had – they’d yet to master that art, but he also had three years on them. Not to mention a lifetime of walking on eggshells.
“May I ask what your scent is?” Ashe quipped curiously. “You smell really delightful.”
“Is it snowberries?” Annette wondered, olive eyes sparkling. “Uncle brought from Gautier land once after a trip there. I remember the smell.”
“Yeah.” Sylvain was pleased that Annette had been able to place it so quickly. He had to explain it to most people. “How’s Baron Dominic?”
Annette beamed. “Ever since he sided with His Majesty to stand up against the rest of the western lords two years ago, he’s been in a much better position in the Kingdom. He’s busy, but he says he’s happy for it.” She reached over and took Sylvain’s hand in hers. “I was told that you did much to convince His Majesty and the King Regent that uncle should be rewarded for his allyship. He is forever grateful, as is my family.” She beamed at him. “You’ll be such a great Queen Consort once the day comes, I just know it.”
Sylvain tried to match her smile. “Thanks.” Just trying to keep the Crown Prince sane, he didn’t say.
--
The opening ceremony… went fine. That was all he could think for it. It was exactly as Sylvain had expected – all three Houses trying to size each other up at the pretense of a ceremony. After Rhea gave her speech and introduced the professors, the opening reception quickly turned into a wary mingling. He quickly learned the rest of the Golden Deers’ names – Raphael, Leonie, and Ignatz, all Betas.
The House Leaders had been called for some sort of audience with Lady Rhea, and apparently Dimitri had told Dedue to keep his eyes out for Sylvain at all times, so Sylvain obediently sat at one of the side tables and sipped the sorry excuse for wine so he could make Dedue’s job easier. “It was not meant to keep you confined to a table, Your Highness,” Dedue said, for the billionth time that night. “I will not even follow you if it makes you uncomfortable. I can observe from here.”
“Don’t call me that. And it’s fine,” Sylvain responded, for the billionth time that night. “Really, Dedue. I’m kinda tired from the traveling we did, anyway. And how many meetings is Dimitri going to be called for? I get that he’s our House Leader, but I don’t like that he’s constantly being pulled away for secret meetings. I don’t doubt that Dimitri is telling us everything he hears, but it bothers me that Lady Rhea won’t tell us everything directly.”
Dedue frowned. “..Yes. That has struck me as unsettling as well. I am hoping that it is just the products of the first day and that it is more efficient to address three instead of twenty-four. I will bring it up to His Majesty if it continues. He will not want to see you bothered by it.”
“Uh, no. That’s okay. I’ll bring it up to him myself if it keeps getting worse.” Sylvain swirled his glass of wine. “Hm.” He took another sip of the piss-poor wine and swirled the glass again, hoping it would somehow improve it. It didn’t. He made a face and put it down. “Dedue, be subtle. Are the Knights of Seiros acting weird, or is that just me?”
After a moment of silence, Dedue slowly, but deliberately, rose from his seat across the table from Sylvain and bodily blocked him from sight of the rest of the hall. “Your Highness, I must escort you back to your room immediately.”
“If you think there’s actually something going on here that might be dangerous, I’m not leaving unless every single Blue Lion is also safe. Also, not exactly subtle, is it?” Sylvain scowled and put his glass down so he could peer over Dedue’s shoulder, but Dedue moved to cover him again.
Dedue was eyeing the exits and Sylvain was about to remind him about being subtle, but one of the Knights cleared his throat and spoke loudly. The three House Leaders had been attacked by bandits. Captain Alois was currently on his way to rescue them, they were not to panic, and were to immediately return to their rooms for safety reasons. It took Sylvain longer than he’d like to admit to actually process it.
“Your Highness,” Dedue said, his voice final. “If you will not let me escort you back to your room, I will carry you there.”
--
Sylvain knew Dedue was serious, so he chose not to be humiliated in front of his new classmates and walked back to his room, Dedue by his side. The trek was short but Dedue did not let him approach any corners first and stood guard by his door when they finally got to his room. Felix joined them soon after, followed by Mercedes and Annette.
“Ashe and Ingrid are trying to get more information out of Lady Rhea and the other Professors.” Mercedes frowned nervously. “Are you all right, Sylvain? You poor thing; you’re very pale. Maybe we should open a window.”
“No windows.” Dedue shook his head. “His Highness makes for an easy target because of his hair.”
“I’m not a target,” Sylvain protested, though he knew it would fall on deaf ears. “And please, for the love of Seiros, Dedue, please stop calling me that.” He felt his stomach churn uneasily. Dimitri was the strongest person he knew. He’d wiped out armies by himself. He was a one-man army. A common band of bandits should be no problem for Dimitri. Logically, he knew that Dimitri would be fine.
The clash of scents was driving him up the wall. Felix’s intense pine, Mercedes’ freshly-baked bread, and Annette’s orange were all mixing together with his own snowberry and Dimitri’s ice that lingered in the room, and it was giving him a headache. The panic made their scents sharp and sour and everything was worse for it. Dedue must have noticed he was going green because he slammed the door open and stood in the doorway as a human shield. The burst of fresh air made him just a little calmer.
Unfortunately, Ingrid and Ashe also burst in, bringing with them a heavy scent of fresh balsam and clear mint with them, both also soured and sharp. But Ingrid and Ashe meant news. “They’re back!” Ashe shouted, before Sylvain could demand information. “They’ve brought some people with them, but they’re back. His Majesty is unharmed, Sylvain. He’s heading over right now-“
“Ashe, please excuse me.”
Ashe almost teleported out of the way. Sylvain felt his knees buckle in relief, but thankfully strong arms caught him. Dimitri smelled like blood again, almost too much like the times he’d been back from battles, but under the blood and sweat and dirt, Sylvain could smell the familiar ice. “I’m sorry to have worried you,” Dimitri whispered, smoothing his hands down his back. He felt Dimitri take a deep breath of him in, nose nudging at his gland at the crook of his neck, and felt Dimitri’s tense muscles relax. He reached around Dimitri to hold him. After a moment more of holding on, Dimitri pressed a soft kiss to Sylvain’s cheek and Sylvain closed his eyes, blocking out everything else around him.
--
Byleth unnerved him. The emotionless eyes seemed to pierce deep into Sylvain’s soul, where the professor could see every single one of Sylvain’s flaws and tainted history. He kept interactions with Byleth as minimal as he could.
Being at the Officer’s Academy meant Dimitri was strangely busy, always being called by the professors or Lady Rhea on some House Leader business. While it annoyed Sylvain, it provided him with actual time to do things by himself. At Lady Rhea’s assurance that there was no safer place in Fodlan than within the walls of Garreg Mach, Dimitri had even agreed that Sylvain didn’t need Dedue watching over him at all times as long as he was within its walls. When he went out to the village, as long as he had at least one of the Blue Lions with him (although Sylvain knew Dimitri’s preference was for Felix or Ingrid or Dedue), Dimitri let him.
Most of all, he had a lance back in his hands. Or at least the training version of it. He balanced the wooden imitation expertly, feeling the weight out in his hands. “This feels really weird,” he told Ingrid. “Did His Majesty put you up to this, by the way?”
Ingrid sighed. “Well.. yes and no. His Majesty did ask me, but I’d already talked to Professor Byleth and suggested that I be your sparring partner for the time being. His Majesty won't train with you for fear of hurting you, and no one else prefers a lance.” She tossed the wooden spear back and forth between her hands. “Come on, Sylvain. Let me see what you remember. I have a feeling it’s much more than you think.”
“Well.. fine. Go easy on me, okay?”
Ingrid grinned at him. “I will do no such thing! You’d best not hold back, either.” She lunged at him without warning, but he stepped back easily. She grinned at his dodge, flashing him an I-told-you-so, and swung her lance at him again.
She’d been right, as Ingrid usually tended to be. Using a lance had been etched into his bones, and he remembered most of it effortlessly. Unfortunately, Ingrid had three years of continued training on him and despite his actually trying, she managed to knock him on his back every time.
When he could no longer get up even at her insistence, she beamed down at him. “Not bad! For missing out on three years of training, you did really well. Got a few good hits on me, too.” She gingerly rubbed her neck where a bruise was already forming where Sylvain had gotten a particularly good hit in, but only after she’d already jabbed him in the stomach. “I can only imagine where you’d be if you’d continued on your training all these years.” She started to look sad again, so he attempted to flip himself up knowing he’d fail and made her laugh when he inevitably did. He steered the conversation to dinner, a surefire way to get Ingrid’s mood up.
Felix joined them at the table and put his plate down next to Ingrid. “You’re still doing that thing where you leave yourself wide open after an upward slash.” He pointed his fork at Sylvain. As if to demonstrate, he swiped it upward. “You used to do it three years ago, and you still do it. Except now it’s even more pronounced because you’re not as fast as you used to be.”
Ingrid’s eyes widened. “He’s right! I didn’t realize that’s where I was getting you, but every time you slash your lance up, you kind of… gloat in it.”
Felix rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t kind of gloat in it. He gloats in it. That’s why he leaves himself open.” Felix stabbed his fork into his grilled chicken as if to make a point. “You’re used to using a longer-than-normal lance, being taller than everyone in the field and therefore having longer limbs, and being on horseback. So when you slice upward and then leave yourself open, usually you’ve got nothing to worry about because no one else can reach you anyway. But someone like Ingrid or I can. And as you can tell by Ingrid’s reaction, sometimes it’s by reflex and not just by knowing that’s a habit. That’s why you always lose to us all the time. Even three years ago.”
Sylvain was genuinely shocked by the revelation. And yet, when he thought about it, it was true. That was how Miklan always got the better of him whenever they battled (that, about 50 pounds of muscle, and sheer hatred). So that had been what Felix waited for all those times they sparred when they were kids. “Why didn’t my father tell me? Why didn’t I figure it out?”
Felix shrugged. “The margrave does the same thing. He probably never had any problems, either. He’s also a tall man on a horse with a long lance. But when you’re one on one on the ground and you’re up against people like me or Ingrid, you’re going to have issues.”
“Huh.” Sylvain tilted his head. “Anything else I should know?”
Felix stole a piece of Sylvain’s chicken from his plate and gave him carrots and peas as a trade. That didn’t seem quite fair, but Felix pinned him down with a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it look. Nothing, unfortunately. That was what. At least it sparked Ingrid’s eat-your-vegetables lecture. Felix kept eye contact with her while biting into the stolen piece of chicken and Ingrid huffed. Felix smirked victoriously and turned his attention back to Sylvain. “Yeah. You’re gonna get blisters. Wear gloves.”
Sylvain groaned. He’d forgotten about the blisters. During the first few weeks of training when he was younger, his hands had blistered over, the blisters had popped, and he’d cried about having to do the training all over again with his bloody, blistery hands until Glenn showed him how to wrap his hands to minimize the blisters while they callused over. Unfortunately, his hands had softened over the past three years and he could already see the beginnings of blisters from today.
A plate was put next to him with a rush of icy wind, and Sylvain looked up to find Dimitri smiling softly down at him. “May I join you?”
Felix snorted. “You’re the Crown Prince of Faerghus. You don’t need permission, boar.”
Dimitri had decided to forsake his gauntlets today (a little impractical, really, to wear them around Garreg Mach) and was wearing his dark blue gloves instead. “How was training? I got to see a glimpse of you on the field today.”
Sylvain groaned. “So you saw me lose to Ingrid ten times out of ten?”
Dimitri chuckled. “I thought you did pretty well, all things considered. You haven’t held a lance in your hands for three years, and yet you were able to keep up with one of the best lancers in Faerghus, if not in Fodlan.” Ingrid blushed heavily at the praise and Felix rolled his eyes.
Once Felix was done shoving pieces of chicken into his mouth, he nodded to Sylvain but looked at Dimitri. “You should get him some gloves. He’s gonna end up with blisters otherwise.”
Dimitri’s face fell. He took Sylvain’s hand and examined it, and upon finding the beginnings of blisters already forming, looked up at him in alarm. “I can’t believe I did not think of this.” He whispered, carefully caressing Sylvain’s palm. “I’ll talk to the Professor. Surely you don’t need the training lessons. You won’t ever see battle, so there’s no need for you to hold a weap-“
“Your Majesty!” Sylvain cut him off and smiled as brightly as he could. “I’m fine. They’re just blisters. All I need are some gloves until they callous over, and then I won’t even need the gloves. It’ll be good for me to be able to defend myself.”
Dimitri searched his eyes for a moment, then sighed. He brought Sylvain’s palm up to his lips and pressed his lips against the blisters forming there before letting his hands go. He pulled the dark blue gloves off himself and handed them to Sylvain. “Take these.”
Sylvain almost squawked. “Your Majesty, I can’t. They’re yours. And they’ve got the Crest of Blaiddyd on them.”
Dimitri frowned. “Don’t worry about me. I can find something else, and as you’ve said, my hands are already calloused from my lance.”
“How are you going to wear your gauntlets without gloves? Your Majesty, come on. I can ask Father to send me a pair of gloves. Or just wrap my hands in bandages for now. I can’t wear gloves with the Crest of Blaiddyd on them. People are going to get the wrong idea.”
Dimitri’s frown deepened and turned a little dark. “And what idea will that be? They already know you are mine. And if not, they should.”
Sylvain didn’t have a response to that, but Ingrid did. “Your Majesty, I don’t mean to interrupt but.. your hands are bigger than Sylvain’s. It’s not really going to fit him right and it’ll just make training more difficult.” She and Sylvain exchanged a look and she quickly turned back to Dimitri. “You know how Sylvain feels about Crests. I think he’d feel better if the gloves weren’t Crested at all. But perhaps they can be the same dark blue as yours?”
Dimitri ate slowly, obviously considering Ingrid’s proposal. Finally, a soft smile spread on his lips. “Yes, of course. You’re correct as always, Ingrid.” He reached over and patted Sylvain’s hand. “I’ll send word to Uncle. You should have them by the end of the week if I ask that they hurry.” Dimitri’s body relaxed again, his deranged possessiveness slipped away with Ingrid’s solution, and the scent of ice and wind become comfortable again. Sylvain could see and smell Felix’s fury, but Sylvain just shook his head at him and pinned him with a warning glare. Dimitri, seemingly unaware of it, sighed and offered Sylvain his potatoes, no doubt remembering Sylvain’s favorite food. Sylvain grinned. Back to the normal Dimitri. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. Lady Rhea keeps insisting that things must be done with the three of us, although all three of us have tried to argue that we want our entire House to be present. She says that once the semester gets rolling, she will not need much of our time. I was hoping we could see the town together soon.” Dimitri squeezed Sylvain’s hand.
Sylvain blinked. “Oh. I’d like that a lot, actually.”
“Good.” Dimitri smiled. “I will unfortunately be busy until our mock battle at the end of the Moon. But after that.” He squeezed Sylvain’s hand again. “I know it’s been bothering you that we haven’t been able to spend much time together. It’s been just as hard for me as well, to have you right there and yet be unable to spend but a moment with you.”
Sylvain nuzzled into Dimitri’s shoulder and breathed in the scent of strong icy winds, Seiros be damned that they were right in the middle of the dining hall and that Ingrid and Felix were across the table. This was the Dimitri he loved. The true Dimitri underneath all the madness caused by the Tragedy. Sylvain could only hope that once Dimitri was king, he would be able to get to the bottom of what really happened there and put it all behind him.
Dimitri shifted so Sylvain had easier access to his shoulder and his arm came up to wrap around Sylvain. Sylvain let the conversation Dimitri and Ingrid and Felix were having wash over him. Dimitri was laughing about Felix trying to push his vegetables onto Ingrid’s plate, Ingrid was huffing indignantly even though they all knew that Ingrid pretty much loved all sorts of food, and Felix was trying to steal another piece of chicken from Sylvain’s plate. Sylvain swatted his hand away. It felt like they were back in the Fraldarius Castle as children, Felix demanding to be given the biggest portion as Glenn stood guard over them and laughed about them fighting over food.
He got snapped back to reality when someone tapped on their table. He glanced up and found Claude looking apologetic. “Sorry to take you away from your blushing bride, Dimitri, but Lady Rhea’s calling us again.”
“Again?” Dimitri frowned. “We had audience with her this morning.”
Claude looked just as frustrated. Sylvain had learned in their short time together that Claude faced everything with a practiced smile, so him letting his frustrations surface meant he was just that annoyed. “I know, but it’s supposed to be something about our mock battle coming up. I don’t know why it couldn’t wait until tomorrow or something, but don’t shoot the messenger.”
Dimitri sighed and stood. He took Sylvain’s hands and pressed his lips to the back of each. “I’ll drop by tonight before you go to bed. I’ll talk to Lady Rhea about all these meetings. This is unnecessary and unacceptable. Oh, and I’ll send a message to my uncle about the gloves.”
Sylvain rubbed his thumb across Dimitri’s cheek. “All right. Don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” Dimitri nodded and pressed his lips to Sylvain’s thumb before making to leave. Claude’s gaze lingered on Sylvain for a moment before he turned, grinning easily and throwing an arm across Dimitri’s shoulders.
“I don’t like that look,” Ingrid muttered. Sylvain pushed Dimitri’s half-eaten plate across the table. Felix took the meat and Ingrid settled for the beans. “He’s scheming something.”
“He’s always scheming something.” Sylvain crossed his arms across his chest. “Making notes on me, no doubt. I gotta be careful about what I do around here. It’s easy to forget we’re not exactly among friends.”
Felix shrugged. “It’s only a matter of time before people realize you’re not just a pretty face. I wasn’t the only one watching you train today. That creep from the Empire was there. As was Hilda. The boar hid you for three years. It makes people curious. And I’m just realizing we broadcast the flaw in your fighting style to both the Alliance and the Empire, which makes me feel fucking great.”
“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” Sylvain cooed. Felix glared at him. “All right, all right, fine. But I’m not giving anyone anything new. People know I’m the Gautier heir. I’ve had training before. Edelgard knew me when I was little. We didn't interact too much, but she was at the Fhirdiad Castle when I was there. She knows who I am.” He took a bite out of the potatoes that Dimitri had given him. Hm. A little less seasoned than he liked. “I just gotta let people think I’m nothing more than a pretty face. I’m an expert at it. Don’t worry.” He winked at Felix. Felix made a show of rolling his eyes.
Always let people underestimate you was the first lesson Sylvain had drummed into his head. His father believed in never letting people know your true strength. Let them overestimate and be afraid to strike, but that came with the risk that they would come with more than you could handle. The better option? Let them underestimate you and then make them severely regret it. Despite hating everything his father stood for, Sylvain had taken that lesson to heart. Thankfully, he was an Omega with a pretty face and an even prettier smell, so despite his size, it was easy to get people to think he was nothing more than Dimitri’s trophy wife. He made himself as least threatening as possible while Rufus was in rule. He had no doubt Rufus might have offed him if he’d shown his cards, but as of now, Rufus didn’t see him as a threat. It came with the unfortunate side effect of Rufus making hungry eyes at him, but Sylvain usually stayed away enough for it not to be a bother. He wondered what Dimitri was going to write. My betrothed needs a pair of royal blue gloves to protect his dainty hands from blisters. Please have a pair tailored from the finest materials and send them by the end of the week.
Dainty. He snorted. His hands weren’t as big as Dimitri’s (his future husband had very large hands that Sylvain might or might not have found very attractive), and fine, his fingers were pretty skinny, but they were long and he had hands to match his height. “Just smile and smell pretty,” Sylvain muttered, half to himself and half to Felix and Ingrid. “I’m good at it.”
--
By the end of the week, Sylvain had his gloves, more blisters, and a considerable amount of bruises from his training sessions with Ingrid. “You’re still doing that thing!” Ingrid accused. “Either stop striking upward or block yourself while doing it.”
“I’m trying,” Sylvain whined, painfully aware he sounded like a petulant child. “If I’m conscious about it, I don’t do it, but then it makes me feel incredibly awkward. I don’t think about it and my moves are way more natural, but then I do it. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
Ingrid gave him a look and kicked his training lance back into his hands. His Blaiddyd-Blue-gloved hands. At least they were helping with the blisters. “We’ll train it out of you. Now come at me again.”
“Wait, milady.” Ferdinand stepped smoothly between them with a smile. Ingrid immediately dropped into a defensive stance, stepping easily so Sylvain was behind her and she had her lance between them. From the corner of his eyes, Sylvain could see Felix and Dedue had dropped whatever they were doing to pay attention in their direction instead as well. Ferdinand wasn’t dumb enough to not notice. He smiled and raised his hands in defense. “There’s no cause for alarm, I promise. You’ve got quite a lineup of guards, don’t you, princess? We’re all friends here.”
Ingrid gasped indignantly and Sylvain tried not to let the jab affect him. Name-calling normally didn’t affect him unless it was that specific word. There was no way that Ferdinand did it knowingly – he’d probably meant to imply something else, but Sylvain felt bile rise in his throat. He forced himself to smile instead. “What can we help you with?”
Ferdinand nodded to the training lance in his own hands. “I thought maybe I could be your sparring partner instead. The Lady Galatea may benefit a little more by sparring with someone more at her skill level - like Lorenz, perhaps?”
Ingrid bristled furiously – whether it was because Ferdinand was implying that her level was at Lorenz’s or because he was implying that Sylvain sucked, Sylvain didn’t know. Probably both. But she calmed herself down and instead smiled sweetly as she said, “Don’t downplay your own talents, Ferdinand. I’m sure being the Aegir Heir has many duties and there’s a great explanation for why you’re about as good as someone who hasn’t held a lance in the past few years.”
Bravo, Ingrid, Sylvain thought with a grin, and apparently, the jab wasn’t expected because he got to watch Ferdinand turn an interesting shade of red. Ferdinand recovered quickly enough and smiled easily. “I only meant that I might be suited to be a better teacher for the future queen consort. I have experience tutoring small children.”
All right, enough. Sylvain raised his hands. “Okay, let’s not let this devolve into an insult match. Ferdinand, thanks for offering. I’m sure Ingrid could take a break from me. Ingrid, I’ll be fine.” She looked like she wanted to argue but ultimately decided to step aside and hover nearby instead. Like he didn’t already have Felix and Dedue hovering.
He normally wouldn’t have cared or risen to Ferdinand’s goading, but he had something he had to check. He knew the Alliance and the Empire students had been observing him training. He needed to see if they had picked up the same thing Felix and Ingrid knew. He’d have to play it right and corner Ferdinand enough to make Ferdinand react without thinking which wouldn’t be easy – for all the insults Ingrid threw at him, the Aegir heir wasn’t actually lacking. He pulled his gloves off and almost tossed them to the ground before remembering that they were from Dimitri and instead handed them to Ingrid. “You gonna be okay?” Felix muttered, staring at Ferdinand like he wanted to cut his head off.
“I’m not made of glass, Felix. And they’re wooden lances. The worst we’ll do to each other is give each other bruises. Could you and Dedue please go back to whatever you were doing and not make a big deal out of this?” Felix glared. That was a no, then. He sighed and turned back to Ferdinand. “All right, then. I’m all ears.”
Ferdinand smiled. “I thought we might learn by doing.”
Sylvain fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Next time, just tell me you want to try smacking me around. I won’t be offended.” Ferdinand only smiled at him and readied his lance, striking before Sylvain could even prepare. Sylvain’s reflexes took over and he jumped back. The goal was to fight as he normally would, not worrying about his stupid up-slash habit, so he let his mind go blank and let his body take over.
“Well, well,” Felix smirked. “Looks like pretty boy realized he might have bitten off more than he can chew.”
“I object. That seems to imply that Ferdinand is the ‘pretty boy,’ yet His Highness is clearly more beautiful.”
Ingrid raised an eyebrow. “Was that humor, Dedue?” She smiled when he glanced at her in affirmation. They were fairly evenly matched, and it was clear that was not something Ferdinand had expected. Even when Ferdinand got a few good hits in, Sylvain took it in stride and returned the blow with more force. Tanking hard hits was kind of Sylvain’s specialty, after all. Beat into him by his brother and all that. Sylvain then swung upward in a wide arc, and it was evident Ferdinand immediately saw the opening. He surged forward and jabbed his lance forward with the clear intent to kill if the lance had been an actual weapon – and smashed it dead into Dimitri’s gauntlet.
“That’s enough, I think,” Dimitri said softly, holding Sylvain with one arm and blocking the lance with the other. “You’ve won, Ferdinand.”
Sylvain blanched. Dimitri observing the spar wasn’t part of his plans. Dimitri took Sylvain’s lance and tossed it aside, took the gloves hanging limply in Ingrid’s hands (Ingrid shot Sylvain a desperate look), and proceeded to march Sylvain out of the training grounds and to their rooms.