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Sylvain drifted through the camp in almost a trance.
People congratulated him, hollering his name as if he alone had won them the battle. Though, Sylvain supposed, maybe he had. He was told that he had killed Count Bergliez, the Minister of Military Affairs and as such a representation of the Empire as a whole, in a truely epic way but Sylvain simply couldn’t remember it. He couldn’t remember anything from the battle but the look in Ashe’s eyes as Count Bergliez’s weapon struck true; the way that Ashe had dropped without a sound like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Sylvain had screamed then, he was certain of that much, surging towards Ashe as if he would be able to reach him in time. The archer had been covered in his own blood when at last Sylvain could reach him, when the Count was already somehow dead and the battle was won.
Ashe had seemed so small, lying there on the ground and gasping for every breath. The hand pressed up against his side did little to stop the bleeding, his eyes staring up wide to the sky as if unable to process what had happened.
The wound was deep and it was a miracle in and of itself that Ashe wasn’t yet dead but Sylvain had known that the boy didn’t have long.
“Syl…” Ashe gasped, the sound wet.
“I’m right here. You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”
The soft words didn’t seem to reach Ashe, his eyes fluttering. Panic overwhelmed Sylvain and he barely even registered that he had started putting pressure onto Ashe’s wound when he realised that his hands were soaked in Ashe’s blood.
“Stay with me!” Sylvain had begged. “Stay with me, please, you need to stay with me.”
He didn’t know how many hours had passed since then. He didn’t even know how he had gotten to the camp at all. Ashe had been taken away from him, a stretcher bearer whisking him away to be treated for his injuries. Sylvain should have gone with Ashe, he had wanted to go with Ashe, but Dimitri had set a hand on his shoulder and the rest didn’t make any sense to him as if he had fallen into a half remembered dream.
Sylvain had circled past this campfire already but he didn’t care. He kept walking, his hands numb and his legs burning. When the tears had stopped was just another mystery to Sylvain’s mind, one that he did not care to work out.
Ashe was hurt. Bad. He could be dead for all Sylvain knew yet nobody came to retrieve him. Anything spoken to him was about the victory, not about the blood that stained his hands and his heart.
No. He couldn’t waste his time like this, not when Ashe needed him. Sylvain twisted around sharply, making a bee line towards the infirmary. He passed by a soldier who raised a hand in greeting but Sylvain kept walking.
“Sylvain?” A girl’s voice called.
He kept moving.
“Syl,” She said again. “Wait.”
A hand caught onto his arm and Sylvain had to fight the instinct to lash out, realising it was only Annette. She didn’t pull him away and when she spoke her voice was weak as if she had been crying.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
There was a loud noise and Sylvain’s blood ran cold. He recognised that voice. Not from this battle, this time Ashe had fallen almost silently, but there had been times before when Ashe had screamed out in pain and it had sounded exactly like that.
“Was that him?” Sylvain demanded.
“Sylvain, please,”
“No. I need to see him.”
“Mercie is still treating him,” Annette said. “There’s nothing you can do for him right now.”
“I can be there.” Sylvain snapped. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I need to be there.”
Annette’s shoulders sagged and she looked smaller than she ever had. Annette was exhausted, her face a little flushed like it always was when she had used too much of her healing magic. She let go of his arm and guided him through the infirmary.
They passed countless soldiers being treated for wounds sustained in this battle or earlier ones. One of the beds had a blanket laid atop of its patient but Sylvain refused to let himself wonder who it had been.
Ashe was alive, even if that poor sod wasn’t. Sylvain had to focus on that if nothing else.
Deeper and deeper they went, into the winding tent that was the infirmary. It had been expanded over the course of the war to accomodate more patients and Sylvain could feel his mind begin to drift again, his body distant.
Annette was saying something but her voice was so soft he hadn’t even noticed.
“Wait,” Sylvain said. “Can you, uh, can you say that again?”
Annette tilted her head. She offered him a sad smile.
“Have you rested since the battle?” She asked.
Of course he hadn’t rested, Sylvain hadn’t even wiped the blood off his- Oh. Sylvain’s hands were clean, his clothing too. He must have been more out of it than he realised but now that he was focusing on it he vaguely recalled Felix nudging him towards the river, Dimitri setting his cloak over Sylvain’s shoulders. Sylvain touched that cloak now, comforted by the weight but confused as to how he had completely forgotten about it.
“I,” Sylvain swallowed.
“It’s okay.” Annette said gently. “You are probably still in shock.”
“Shock?” He asked dumbly.
“It happens sometimes, either because of stress or injury. It makes everything all fuzzy and confusing.”
“Oh.” Sylvain said. “Fuzzy.”
Annette’s lips twisted up into a smile but it didn’t last as a sharp cry echoed across the infirmary.
Sylvain lurched forward, following the horrid sound, not waiting to see if Annette was following. That was Ashe, Sylvain was certain of it. The cry cut off but if anything the sudden silence was more unnerving. While the first few beds were out in the open, these bays mostly had their curtains drawn for privacy, usually for higher ranking officers or for more serious injuries.
Stalking towards the closest bay, Sylvain ripped open the hanging drapes but instead of Ashe there was a young woman sitting upright. He moved onto the next bay, distantly hearing Annette apologise to the patient but this bay just had an empty bed.
Where was he?
Sylvain had just heard Ashe and yet he could not see the archer anywhere.
There was only one bay left, the largest of all. Usually it was reserved for Dimitri or other high nobles who earned a bigger space through prestige alone. Sylvain had been in that room once, recovering from a bad fever. He reached out to open the drapes but his hands stilled before he could do so.
“Sylvain,” Annette said, catching up to him at last.
She ducked under his arm and turned to face him. Annette reached up and cupped his cheek and he found himself melting into the touch.
“It’s going to be hard to see him like this,” Annette said. “Are you sure you want to go in there? It’s okay if you don’t want to.”
“I need to.” Sylvain whispered.
“Okay.”
Annette pulled away and Sylvain suddenly felt cold. The drapes were open now. Mercedes was standing with her back turned towards them, her hands glowing with healing magic. Looking passed Mercedes, Sylvain could see the small body she was working on and it was like the ground was falling out from under him.
Ashe was shuddering, his eyes squeezed shut, sweat pouring down his pale face. Mercedes strengthened the magical field but he moaned anyway, kicking his legs out. Sylvain tried not to look at Ashe’s ravaged skin but he saw it anyway, blood staining not only his bare torso but the bed beneath him too, still pouring out of the deep wound just below his ribs.
“Why haven’t you given him a draft?” Sylvain demanded.
Mercedes jumped, her magic faltering. She refocused on it immediately but it was long enough for Ashe’s pain to spike and he bit back a scream. Ashe shouldn’t be screaming, he should have been given pain medication, especially if Mercedes was effectively doing surgery on his abdomen.
“Annie, Sylvain…” Mercedes greeted.
“Ashe deserves the best,” Sylvain snapped. “Just because he’s adopted doesn’t mean-“
“Syl,” Annette said. “We have given him medication. This is just… Well… It’s something could break through pain."
Sylvain felt ill. To think that Ashe was in so much pain even on medication sent a shiver down his spine. He should have never come here, he should have trusted Mercedes to take care of Ashe.
“Syl?” Ashe mumbled.
The boys eyes flickered open and Sylvain was by his side in an instant, making sure to give Mercedes the whole other side of the bed.
“I’m here.” Sylvain said. “I’m right here.”
Ashe raised a shaking hand. Sylvain caught it, squeezing it tightly as Ashe’s eyes struggled to focus on him.
“I’m sorry.” Ashe’s voice was weak, his throat raw from screaming.
“It’s fine,” Sylvain said. “Just hold on, okay?”
A flash of pain sparked through him and he jolted, new tears joining the old. Ashe’s hand loosened in Sylvain’s grip. Whatever Mercedes was doing was becoming too much for him to tolerate, medicated or not.
Ashe’s eyelids drooped.
“Ashe, Sweetheart,” Mercedes said. “I need you to stay awake, remember?”
Sylvain had thought that rest would actually help Ashe’s recovery. At least if he slept he wouldn’t need to be aware of so much pain. Realisation dawned on him. Mercedes was under the impression that if Ashe fell asleep now, he might not wake up again.
Sylvain felt ill.
“Come on Ashe,” Sylvain said. “Just focus on me, alright Bud?”
Ashe hummed.
“Ashe.” Sylvain said more firmly.
The archers eyes flicked towards Sylvain in what could only be described as mild annoyance as if Sylvain was keeping him from a comfortable nap. Despite himself, Sylvain gave off a shaking laugh.
“What?” Ashe grumbled.
“There’s that spark.” Sylvain said.
“Spark?” Ashe mumbled.
Sylvain thumbed over the back of Ashe’s hand, perching himself onto the bed beside him. Ashe shuddered from the movement but before Sylvain could stand up again his body relaxed, green eyes fixed on Sylvain.
“You know,” Sylvain said. “Your spark. The brilliant beautiful spark that is so you.”
“Sylvain Jose Gautier,” Mercedes said mildly, amusement filling her tired voice. “I would ask that you refrain from flirting with my patient.”
“Who said I was flirting?” Sylvain challenged. “I was just telling the truth.”
Ashe giggled and the sound alone made Sylvain’s heart soar. He raised Ashe’s hand to his lips, kissing it gently.
Ashe stiffened and Sylvain cursed himself. He had been so stupid to do that, friends don’t kiss friends hands like that, especially not while they were severely injured. Ashe wasn’t even gay, or at least he had never mentioned it. Sylvain had known that nothing could ever exist between the two of them and yet he had still acted that way towards him anyway.
Stupid, Sylvain had been so stupid.
He should have never come here.
“Ashe?” Annette prompted, stepping towards him.
“I’m going to be sick.” Ashe whispered.
“What?”
Ashe held back a gag and in an instant Annette was there, easing Ashe onto his uninjured side. Ashe cried out from the sudden movement but just as quickly the sound changed to a horrid gag and Sylvain jolted away from him. He had always hated people throwing up, having always been one to join them in sympathy and this surely would be no different.
Except what Ashe brought up wasn’t vomit.
It was blood.
“Annie I need you!” Mercedes said.
“On it!” Annette said, summoning a healing field over Ashe.
Ashe shuddered strongly, bringing up more blood. The boy tilted onto his back but with Annette and Mercedes busy healing him, it was Sylvain who eased him onto his side again, knowing that the blood might block his airway if it had no way of getting out.
One hand on Ashe’s shoulder, Sylvain knelt down next to the bed, ignoring the pool of blood around him.
“Ashe,” Sylvain said. “It’s okay.”
Sylvain’s soft words didn’t seem to reach Ashe as he jolted again and again, his entire body curling in pain. Even when he finally stopped throwing up blood, Ashe was left shuddering, gasping for every breath as if there was not enough oxygen getting into his lungs.
Sylvain carded his fingers through Ashe’s hair and Ashe moaned, leaning into the touch.
“You’re doing so well,” Sylvain promised him. “Just a little longer.”
In truth, Sylvain knew full well that Ashe still had a long way to go, his wound was still slowly knitting itself closed with both Mercedes and Annette focusing all of their energy on him. It had been hours since Ashe had been taken into the infirmary and yet he was no where near fully healed and if anything he was still in serious danger of succumbing to his injury.
Ashe was crying openly now, his breath hitching as another jolt of pain arched through him.
“Have I ever told you about Sir Gautier?”
Ashe’s focus flicked once more towards Sylvain, his eyes barely open.
He tried to speak but it broke off into a whimper instead, his toes curling.
“It’s a great story,” Sylvain continued. “Ingrid has a book I’m sure she’ll lend you but for now you can just listen to my annoying voice.”
“Not…” Ashe croaked. “Annoying.”
“Why thank you.” Sylvain said, forcing a laugh. “I knew my charm would get to you eventually.”
Ashe’s gaze darkened and he looked away. Sylvain just couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut, could he? Ashe was obviously uncomfortable with his suave personality, even if he was only falling back to it to keep himself from spiralling into pure panic.
“Syl,” Ashe said. “I think I-“
“It’s okay if you need to throw up again, I can get you a cool cloth if you need it.”
“No, it’s fine, I just wanted to…”
“In fact,” Sylvain continued. “I’ll go grab one right now.”
“Sylvain.” Annette’s gentle voice broke in. “Let him speak.”
“Right.” Sylvain said. “Of course. Ashe, feel free to say whatever you want. If you need me to go, I’ll go, I promise I’ll stop annoying you and-“
“Sylvain.” This time it was Mercedes and Sylvain ducked his head.
“Sorry.” He said. “What did you want to say Ashe?”
Ashe didn’t continue, no doubt waiting for Sylvain to inevitably cut him off again. In fact, Ashe had stopped moving altogether if only to indulge Sylvain fully in whatever worthless thing he had to say.
“Annie, keep healing.” Mercedes said, her voice strained. “Sylvain, out.”
“But I-“
Ashe still wasn’t moving. He was staring up at the ceiling blankly, the shuddering in his body having at last stopped.
“Out. Now.”
Mercedes clasped one hand over the other, bringing both up to Ashe’s unmoving chest. No. It was moving, it had to be moving. Ashe was still breathing, he had to still be breathing. He had been talking just a moment ago. Ashe was fine.
He was fine.
Mercedes pressed deep into Ashe’s chest, pulling up and pressing down in a steady rhythm. While Mercedes simply looked focused, Annette was openly crying as she strengthened her healing field around Ashe, now encompassing his entire body.
No. This wasn’t happening. None of this was happening.
Sylvain numbly stepped back.
Ashe was fine. He had to be fine. This wasn’t happening.
Ashe’s ribs broke with a crack but Mercedes kept giving compressions anyway.
Sylvain felt sick. He ripped away from the bed, the world spinning around him as he scrambled out through the drapes. He ignored the other makeshift rooms in his desperate need for fresh air, not even caring when he shoved past a healer that hadn’t move quickly enough.
No. Ashe wasn’t dead, nor was he dying. Sylvain was simply having a nightmare. Ashe was strong, he was brave. He couldn’t just stop breathing like that, not when he was literally just talking a few moments ago.
Ashe had been laughing, even. He couldn’t just… Sylvain had barely so much as registered that he was outside before he was on his knees throwing up.
Distantly Sylvain felt someone touching him but he was too busy throwing up again to see who it was.
“Get a hold of yourself, Sylvain.”
That rough voice was so familiar that Sylvain snapped back to reality, dumbly wondering when Felix had gotten there. Felix was covered in sweat, his trusty sword by his side. He must have been in the training yard when Sylvain had come stumbling out of the infirmary.
“Finally.” Felix huffed. “I thought you would never come out of it. How’s Ashe?”
Sylvain balked at the memory of Ashe lying so stilly. He forced back the rising nausea, focusing instead on Felix’s face.
“It all happened so fast, I was talking to him but then he just stopped.”
“He’s… Dead?”
The words were soft and yet it was like the sky was crashing down on Sylvain.
“I don’t know.” Sylvain said roughly, his eyes stinging. “Fuck. This is all my fault.”
“I was at the battle, there was no way you could have-“
“I kissed him and he was so disgusted that his heart stopped.”
Felix blinked. He opened his mouth, closed it again.
“What?” Sylvain demanded.
“You kissed him. And you think that killed him.”
“Why the fuck are you laughing?”
“Because you’re more stupid than I gave you credit for. Ashe wasn’t disgusted. He’s been in love with you since the academy.”
Sylvain’s world was spinning again so he sat down heavily, barely missing his own sick.
“Stop bullshitting.” Sylvain huffed. “I’m not in the mood.”
“I’m not bullshitting.” Felix said firmly. “Have you not seen the way he looks at you? Hell, just the fact that I noticed is proof that everyone knows. Except you, apparently.”
Felix was close to laughing again but it was not because he was mocking Sylvain, it was more that he himself was stressed about Ashe’s condition also.
“I, he, that is…”
“Oh come off it,” Felix said. “I know you love him too.”
This time Sylvain did jolt forward. He had never said those words aloud, of course he hadn’t. It had been his mistake to fall head over heels for the young archer and he had always known that he would take those unspoken feelings to the grave. Even if Ashe were into guys he would never want to be with Sylvain, not with his reputation and his need for validation. Ashe was so much better than that, he deserved better than that.
Ashe loved him. No, it was impossible. Ashe was dead or dying and even if he wasn’t he couldn’t possibly be in love with Sylvain.
It was impossible.
“I can’t believe you kissed him.” Felix mused. “Though I suppose you were always the type for dramatic declarations.”
“It was his hand.”
This time Felix laughed even harder.
“The flirting Sylvain, so nervous to kiss a boys hand. Now I have seen everything. Come, you should eat something. Fodlan knows how you’ve been pacing for hours.”
“But Ashe…”
“You’ve done what you can, Merecedes is with him, yes?”
“And Annette…”
“We both know how good at healing they are. Ashe will be just fine. And then you can kiss him all over again.”
Sylvain’s face felt hot but when Felix tugged at his arm again all he could do was follow him numbly. Fears for Ashe’s life mingled with feelings of rejection that he hadn’t even questioned until now. Surely Felix was joking, Ashe couldn’t possibly love him.
Except Felix didn’t joke like that.
They found Dedue and Dimitri at the mess hall. Dimitri went to ask for Ashe’s condition but Felix stepped in before he could.
“Sylvain didn’t realise Ashe is in love with him.”
Sylvain gave a spluttered response, half in denial and half in false assurances that everyone was in love with him.
Dimitri cursed and for a moment Sylvain thought he was falling again, certain that Felix had been mocking him after all. But then Dimitri fished into his pocket, bringing out a few gold coins and passing them to Dedue. Dedue accepted them without comment.
“Don’t tell me you had a fucking bet about it.” Sylvain accused. “Ashe doesn’t love me, he never will.”
“I would not be so certain,” Dimitri said smoothly, his lips quirking up in a smile.
“No.” Sylvain said. “He’s just a friend. He could never see me that way. I could never see him that way. We’re just friends.”
This time Felix was the one to produce more money and Dedue was once again the victor in whatever unspoken bet they had. Sylvain cursed, feeling attacked from all sides.
“Just how long have you guys been doing this?” He demanded.
“First week of class.” Felix shrugged. “What? Don’t act like you don’t have your own bets going.”
“Not about this. And we shouldn’t even be acting like this, Ashe is severely injured and here you are exchanging fucking gold.”
“Sylvain kissed him.”
“Felix!” Sylvain snapped.
“He says it stopped his heart or some shit.”
“Felix! Shut up!”
Despite himself, Sylvain realised that he wasn’t angry with Felix. In fact he was even trying to hold back a laugh at the absurdity of all of it. Ashe had been covered in his own blood and Sylvain had kissed him. Talk about time and place.
“You know,” Dimitri said. “You were always known to be a heart stopper.”
“Not you too.” Sylvain groaned.
“Your Majesty, as King it is improper to make fun of the relationships of your subjects.” Dedue said. “As your retainer, I will gladly take the responsibility.”
Sylvain laughed fully now and when he realised that tears were streaming down his face he let them fall. He let himself feel all of it, the stress, the pain, the amusement. For the first time in hours he was fully aware of everything that was happening, fully belonging in his own body.
“Sod off, all of you.” Sylvain said. “This is serious.”
“As serious as your own feelings towards Ashe.” Dedue said sagely.
“Where’s Ingrid?” Sylvain asked. “She would back me up. I have never and will never have feelings towards Ashe.”
“Oh absolutely not.” A feminine voice said from across the hall.
Sylvain twisted towards Ingrid, realising that she had been sipping her coffee this entire time. With a stab of betrayal, Sylvain watched Dimitri and Felix pass her coins too. Sylvain held a hand to his heart, mimicking an arrow.
Ingrid just smiled widely into her mug and Sylvain found himself laughing again. Ingrid knew him better than anyone else did, even Dimitri and Felix. He had no doubt that she was aware of his lingering looks towards Ashe even before he himself had realised that he was doing it. There was no denying it now, Sylvain was completely and utterly in love with Ashe but he would never do anything about it.
But maybe, just maybe, they were telling the truth and Ashe liked him too.
The conversation eventually moved on and Sylvain found himself feeling a little lighter, glad to spend time with his companions even if there was a distant tension that they all shared. All joking aside, Ashe had been severely injured. One of their own, the best of them, was fighting for his life and all they could do was share jokes.
It was nearing dusk by the time Annette came. Sylvain scrambled off the chair, meeting her half way. The others were close to follow him, listening intently to what she had to say.
“He’s okay.” She announced. “Mercie was able to stop the bleeding. He’s weak, and tired, but he’s awake.”
“Oh thank the Goddess,” Dimitri breathed. “And thank you too, Annette.”
“Oh, I didn’t do much, Mercie is the one who saved him. And Sylvain.”
“What?” Sylvain mumbled.
“You kept him awake on the battlefield.” Annette said. “If you hadn’t, it’s likely he wouldn’t have even made it back to camp. You saved him Sylvain.”
Sylvain swallowed the lump in his throat.
“He’s asking for you.” She said. “He will need rest before he sees everyone but he specifically called for you, Sylvain.”
A hand nudged him forward and Sylvain took a jolting step. Ashe was alive. He was okay. He was even asking for Sylvain. But what for? To set the boundaries once more? To prove that the others were wrong and say that Sylvain was nothing more than a friend to him? Sylvain wasn’t sure he was strong enough to hear those words, not when he just started wondering if Ashe could ever love him.
Annette guided him towards the infirmary just as she did hours ago. This time there were no screams, no held back cries. She took him to the same room as earlier but this time the bed wasn’t covered in blood.
Ashe was lying down, his eyes closed. Bandages poked through from beneath his blanket, his skin much more grey than it ever should be. Mercedes were curled up on a chair beside Ashe’s bed, her eyes closed and her breathing even. She must be absolutely exhausted. Sylvain would have to make it up to her somehow, a word of thanks would never be enough for what she had done.
“Ashe,” Annette said softly, a hand on Ashe’s shoulder. “He’s here.”
Sylvain didn’t want to wake Ashe for his own accord but he felt his heart soar as Ashe’s eyes fluttered open all the same. Ashe tried to sit but Annette kept him lying down.
“You’re still weak,” She reminded. “I will get you another pillow.”
“Thank you.” Ashe mumbled.
His voice was raw from his own screams but Sylvain was glad to hear it all the same. Ashe was okay. He was alive.
Annette helped Ashe lean forward carefully and Sylvain found himself rushing towards him, keeping him upright as Annette placed the pillow. Sylvain backed away again, cursing his own stupidity. Ashe didn’t need him. He probably didn’t even want Sylvain here to begin with.
“Sylvain,” Ashe greeted.
“Ashe.”
Great, now they were stuck with polite pleasantries. Even weak and hurt Ashe was beautiful, his freckles even more apparent than usual. Sylvain tried to shove back the words Felix and the others had said, reminding himself that Ashe only saw him as a friend. Not only that, the freckles were showing like that because of blood loss, Sylvain had no right to think that he looked cute like this.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
Here it was. The confession that Ashe never wanted to see him again the blame that if Sylvain hadn’t been there Ashe would have never been injured in the first place.
“I, uh,” Ashe swallowed roughly.
Goddess, he wouldn’t even look at Sylvain. Ashe could face down impossible enemies without fear and yet he hated Sylvain so much he couldn’t even bare to look at him.
“I love you.”
“I know you hate me, I’ll get - Wait, what?”
Ashe’s face flushed red and Sylvain tried to steady himself. He was imagining this, he was dreaming, surely. Ashe would never actually share his feelings, this was just a fever dream born of worry for Ashe. No matter what any of the others claimed, it simply couldn’t be true.
“I wasn’t going to say anything until after the war but when I got hurt I was so scared that I was going to die without ever having said anything. I understand if you don’t feel the same, I know you need to marry for your family line but I was hoping that maybe-“
Sylvain’s lips were pressed against Ashe’s even before he realised that he had moved. Ashe had stiffened and for a jolting moment Sylvain wondered if he had messed up again but then Ashe melted into the kiss.
Sylvain pulled away, electricity running through his veins. Ashe was alive and he was okay and Sylvain had just kissed him. Sylvain had kissed countless guys and girls before but it had never felt like this, it had never felt so… So right.
Ashe reached out, hand cupping Sylvain’s cheek and Sylvain felt himself fall even more in love with those beautiful green eyes. There was no hesitation there, no doubt. Ashe had made his decision and he was going to stand by it. Ashe’s hand snaked around Sylvain’s neck, pulling him close again.
This kiss was deeper than the last and Sylvain felt himself sigh into it.
Annette gave an awkward cough and Sylvain snapped back. Despite the fact that Ashe had initiated it, his face now flushed red with embarrassment and Sylvain felt a laugh bubbling in his chest.
“I love you.”
Those three words, spoken so softly, words he had never meant before, now felt so natural. Sylvain didn’t know if whatever budding relationship they had was going to last, hell he didn’t even know if either of them were going to make it through the war. All he knew was he was in love with Ashe with those brilliant green eyes and adorable freckles with bravery to rival the greatest knights and kindness that trumped all others.
Ashe’s face now flashed even more brightly and Sylvain found himself burning just as hotly. Sylvain had made him look like that.
“I love you too.” Ashe said, his voice light as feathers.
“Ashe,” Annette said, stepping forward at last. “You should get some rest. Syl can stay, if you want, and when you’re ready I’m sure all the others want to see you too.”
“Please stay.” Ashe said.
“Always.” Sylvain said.
When Ashe drifted off, his breathing held steady and Sylvain stayed by his side, fingers running through Ashe’s hair. It felt strange to be so open about affection when they had only just admitted their feelings for one another but Sylvain had known the moment he had seen Ashe all those years ago that he was in love. The fact that that love was shared made Sylvain feel almost giddy, like he was drifting through clouds.
Ashe was alive and okay and in love with him. And even if Annette was passing a few coins to an apparently not sleeping Mercedes, Sylvain could not be happier that there were miracles in this world after all.