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Sylvain whipped around the moment he heard the sharp cry of pain, knowing full well who’s voice it had been yet his heart still dropped all the same as he saw Felix on his knees, a hand pressed up tightly against his bleeding shoulder.
Felix tried to rise but his legs refused to support his weight, the shaft of the arrow still sticking out of his skin.
“Defensive formation!” Dimitri roared. “Sylvain, on Felix!”
As Sylvain rushed to Felix’s side, the others all crowded around facing all directions to protect him. Mercedes and Annette prepared to use their magic, Dimitri stood at the front of all of them with his weapon ready, Ingrid urged her pegasus to land so that she may better keep Felix safe while Ashe drew his bow to full strength, eyes locked on one of the many enemies around them. He did not loose the arrow, not yet, waiting for Dimitri’s command.
“I’m fine.” Felix gritted out, one eye squeezed shut. “It’s just a scratch, I can still fight.”
“Felix,” Sylvain said. “I need to get you out of here.”
“Hell no.” Felix snapped back. “Just break it off, I’ll be fine.”
“It’s your sword hand.” Sylvain said.
“I have another hand.” Felix shrugged. His entire face paled, more blood gushing from his wound. “Fuck.”
Before Sylvain could admonish him for moving like that with a literal arrow sticking out of his shoulder, Sylvain heard warnings that there were more archers both to the left and the right. They were surrounded, an ambush no doubt which meant their easily found information had been a trap after all.
Felix was tilting forward now but Sylvain kept him steady, careful to not touch his injury.
“Felix,” Sylvain said tightly. “I need you to stay with me, okay?”
“I’m fine.” Felix mumbled, eyes barely open.
The arrow hadn’t struck any arteries, there would have been considerably more blood if that had been the case, though in truth Sylvain would have preferred no blood at all. Yet Felix was barely awake, tilting forward once like all his energy was draining from him with each drop of blood. Every word he spoke was slurred, the colour slowly draining from his face.
“Dimitri!” Sylvain called. “The arrows, they’re poisoned.”
Sylvain heard Dimitri swear, no doubt weighing up their options. It would be stupid to go charging towards a group of archers in the sheer hope that you could overwhelm them, especially given that there were archers on all sides. But if those archers were specifically using poisoned arrow tips then it wouldn’t just be stupid; it would be suicide.
Whoever had planned the ambush must have had a goal because the enemies could kill them all at any moment if they so wished and yet they did not loose any more arrows nor did they turn around and leave. They were waiting for something, or, more accurately, someone.
And that someone apparently was Hubert von Vestra, the man, the myth, the bastard, strolling through the line of archers as if this was some fashion show and he was the star. Sylvain’s blood boiled at seeing him, knowing full well all the stories of how he treated his prisoners. When he took prisoners, of course, instead of just killing them outright.
Sylvain had half a mind to attack Hubert outright but the thought of Felix needing him kept him crouched on the ground, one hand supporting Felix’s uninjured shoulder. The fact that Felix did not shove him away only made him more worried. Whatever poison had been used it was fast acting but Mercedes and Annette could not break formation, not without risking all their lives, so Sylvain did not call to them.
“Hubert.” Dimitri greeted curtly. “I would tell you to get out of my way, but I highly doubt that you would abide.”
“Heh. Your silver tongue will do you no good here. This is not your path to tread.”
“That is not your decision to make,” Dimitri declared. “Nor is it mine. All I can do is blaze ahead!”
Dimitri charged forward with a yell, his weapon raised high, but with a single spell Hubert had Dimitri on the ground, writhing as electricity passed through him. Sylvain roared, hating to see his friend in pain, but when he when he went to stand Felix gave off a whimper. Sylvain glanced down at Felix, realising that his eyes were fluttering, the hand having fallen from his shoulder. Sylvain cursed, rushing to put pressure on the wound. Felix’s eyes blew wide, his breath coming out as a gasp.
Dimitri was still on the ground, muscles twitching but now Hubert walking closer towards them. Mercedes rushed to Dimitri’s side, formation be damned, summoning a healing spell while Annette, Ashe and Ingrid prepared to take on Hubert.
“Let us forgo any unnecessary bloodshed.” Hubert said. “All I want is Fraldarius.”
Sylvain’s blood ran cold. Whatever Hubert wanted with Felix could not possibly be good. Sylvain shifted around until he was in front of Felix, keeping him from Hubert’s gaze while still keeping him upright.
“Never.” Dimitri snarled, his arms shaking as he tried to rise.
“A single life,” Hubert said. “In exchange for nearly a dozen? Surely you understand basic mathematics, given your position.”
“If you want him,” Dimitri said lowly. “You’ll have to go through me.”
“And me.” Ingrid declared, brandishing her spear.
“I will not let you take him.” Ashe said firmly.
“Felix is my friend.” Annette said. “And I don’t let anyone hurt my friends.”
“My sentiment exactly, Annie.” Mercedes said. “Hubert, prepare yourself.”
Hubert had the audacity to roll his eyes as if the Blue Lions were simply school children facing up against a bully. He came closer towards them and the tension was almost palpable, Sylvain’s companions waiting to see if Hubert would back down knowing full well that surrounded by archers like this they were at a disadvantage.
“Syl…” Felix mumbled. “I can’t see.”
Sylvain’s heart dropped. With a gentle hand on his chin, Sylvain tilted Felix’s face up. Felix’s eyes were glazed, a bead of sweat rolling down his face and as Sylvain watched the little colour was left in his skin drain away fully.
Felix fell forward like a doll whose strings had been cut and Sylvain could hear himself scream his name.
The fight did not last long yet in all that time Sylvain did not let go of Felix, even when Adrestrian soldiers tried to pull him away. As Hubert had said, they wanted Felix and Felix alone, leaving the rest of them where they had been struck down.
Even Dimitri, in any other circumstance the most important person on any battlefield and definitely the most important person of the entire Kingdom, was left in a pool of his own blood, his chest stuttering with every breath.
Sylvain crawled his way towards Dimitri, his right arm refusing to listen to him and his legs refusing to support him. A distant part of him wondered if he should put pressure on where the soldier had wedged her knife into his shoulder in an attempt to make him let go of Felix but the rest of him was too focused on getting to the Prince.
“Dimitri…” Sylvain said, wincing as pain ran through him. “Dimitri. Ashe… He’s not moving.”
Even as he was in agony himself, Dimitri’s eyes widened. He tried to sit up, tried to move, tried to help the people who had sworn loyalty towards him but he simply did not have the strength.
“Syl, go to him.” Dimitri croaked. “Please… Go to him. Don’t let him be alone.”
“I won’t.” Sylvain promised.
His body like lead, Sylvain forced himself to move towards where Ashe lay. There was a poisoned arrow lodged in his leg, his own bow loosely in his hand. From a distance Sylvain feared that the boy was already dead; if those arrows had affected Felix so strongly so quickly then Ashe’s smaller body had no hope to fight against them. But as Sylvain inched ever closer towards him, he saw the smallest rise and fall of Ashe’s chest.
Sylvain could hear Annette crying and he yearned to go help her but Ashe had to come first.
The boy looked so strange covered in his own blood, his lip trembling as his eyes squeezed shut. Sylvain reached for Ashe’s hand but Ashe flinched away, giving off a sharp cry.
“It’s okay,” Sylvain said. “It’s me.”
“Syl…Vain?” Ashe’s eyes fluttered open. “Felix… They took him.”
Sylvain bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep himself from screaming. He knew Felix was gone, he had tried so damn hard to hold onto him but as boots had jarred his ribs and daggers dug into his shoulder, he had let go.
“I know.” Sylvain mumbled.
“We have to go save him.” Ashe said.
“I know.” Sylvain said, holding Ashe’s hand ever tighter.
Ashe’s eyes were closing again, his hand growing cold. His chest stuttered out another breath, then another. Then nothing.
Sylvain just stayed there for another few moment, trying to keep his own breathing steady. He reached over, hissing as he pulled at his wounded shoulder, and grabbed Ashe’s bow. It had been Lord Lonato’s bow, a fact that Ashe would proudly proclaim whenever someone would ask about the design.
Ashe had loved that bow.
Sylvain set it on Ashe’s chest, keeping it close to the boy before he forced himself to move again. Sylvain’s whole body felt stiff but his job was not yet done. He went to Ingrid next. She was still gripping her spear, ever the perfect knight, but her leg was pinned beneath her pegasus and her eyes were filled with tears of pain or heartbreak he did not know.
There was blood beneath the beast, blood that Sylvain knew was Ingrid’s.
“Ingrid,” Sylvain greeted.
“We failed.” She whispered. “I failed.”
“No.” Sylvain said. “You did your duty. You protected His Majesty.”
“I didn’t protect Felix.” She said. “Sylvain, I’m sorry. I thought… I thought I could save him.”
“It isn’t your fault.” Sylvain assured her, knowing that it was his own. “Rest, now.”
“Do you think… They’ll tell stories… About us?”
“Of course.” Sylvain said. “The brave Ingrid Galatea, legendary Knight of Faerghus, kind until the last.”
“That sounds… Nice…”
Sylvain stayed with her until she was gone, trying not to think about all those nights they spent in her room sharing a drink and most importantly sharing laughter. Ingrid had been his best friend through it all and yet he still hadn’t been able to keep her safe. He had caused her so much pain over the years, forcing her to deal with all the fallout of him being an asshole to everyone around him.
He was going to miss those late nights, he was going to miss her teasing all the more.
Mercedes had gone to Annette even as she herself was mortally wounded and when Sylvain came to them, Mercedes held the other girl in her arms. Annette was shivering, her ribs broken from one of Hubert’s spells. It was by courage alone that she was even still conscious but Sylvain knew that she was losing her fight.
“Hey there,” Sylvain cooed, running his fingers through her hair. “I saw how amazing you were out there."
Annette’s eyes met his and she tried to smile but it dropped too soon, her body going still. Mercedes’ tears fell harder but when she looked up at Sylvain she too forced herself to smile despite everything.
“It isn’t your fault.” Mercedes said. “None of this is.”
“But Annette.” He croaked. “Felix, the others. You.”
“We chose this willingly, so please, Sylvain, do not blame yourself.” Mercedes said. “I only wish I could have spent more time with all of you.”
Mercedes tilted forward, arms still wrapped around Annette. She said no more and Sylvain’s whole body ached, wishing he could have done more. Wishing he could have said more yet his words failed him just like he had failed her.
The Blue Lions had so proudly declared that they would protect Felix until the last and here they all lay in their own blood with Felix dragged away and Sylvain left alone.
Sylvain had thought he had known pain when he heard the news of the Kings death, when he held Felix tightly as he raged about how Glenn was not just some martyr, that he hadn’t deserved to be killed like that. Sylvain had thought he knew pain after months of war, striking down countless soldiers who he knew were only following orders.
He had thought he knew pain and yet as Sylvain sat here, alone, he was consumed by it.
Dimitri had died in the time that Sylvain had tended to the others and the fact that Sylvain was glad about it made his blood feel like acid in his veins. Why should he be glad that he had not had to see one more friend breathe their last, why should he be glad that he alone had injuries that would not take his life, why should he be glad that he alone remained.
Sylvain sat there, letting his shoulder bleed.
Felix was still out there, taken to Goddess knows where and Goddess knows why, yet Sylvain just sat there.
“You’ll have to go through me.” Sylvain laughed without humour. “Well, we all saw how that worked out.’
Sylvain let the darkness take him.