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Sylvain pulled his horse to a stop where the road he took from the Sreng border intersected with the paths leading off to Gautier in the west or Fhirdiad to the south.
This was the farthest Sylvain ever made it whenever he tried to run away from home growing up.
He only attempted it a couple of times, and never with much resolve in the first place. But it was this juncture that always made him pause. The crossroads was only a thirty minute ride away from Gautier Manor. Maybe it was the act of choosing a path that felt so final. Maybe it was just enough time and distance to make the latest injury inflicted by Miklan seem not so bad, for the guilt at leaving his parents to seep into his mind.
And so it was that every time he made it this far, Sylvain would turn around and retreat back home. And so it was now that at nineteen years old, he nudged his horse down that same path.
It was difficult to tell in the dark of night and under a layer of fresh snow whether the area had changed at all since his last visit home several years ago. In the meantime, his mind wandered back to the creased letter tucked in his pocket.
Sylvain,
King Dimitri has decreed that you will be knighted and sworn to service for Prince Felix Hugo Fraldarius. His Royal Majesty and his retinue will accompany Prince Felix to Gautier and we will have the knighting ceremony on Yuletide.
Pack your things immediately and tell Sir Alfonso to release you of your squire duties. We will need you here as soon as possible to help with the arrangements. I will send for additional soldiers to aid him at the frontlines of the border.
Do not disappoint,
Margrave Matthais Raoul Gautier
Naturally, Sylvain had found whatever excuses he could to drag out his return until the last possible moment. So now it was the 24th day of the Ethereal Moon and he was just seeing the lights of the Gautier Manor appear on the horizon.
The town surrounding the manor was alight with multi-colored lanterns for the annual Yuletide festival. People streamed in and out of the stores, kept open late. The smells of foods from sweet cakes and sizzling meats wafted from temporary stalls set up in the street and mingled in the air. Troubadors wandered the streets with instruments in hand and merry singing voices loud. Greenery and ribbons adorned every lamppost.
It was nothing like Sylvain had ever seen in the town before. However, he supposed when the King of Faerghus is in town with his entire royal retinue, it called for a higher caliber of celebration. His father would’ve allocated additional funds to the festival this year as well, to celebrate his son’s accomplishment and to show off to the visiting nobles.
Speaking of which, the king and his company would already be at the manor preparing for the knighting ceremony and Yuletide dinner taking place tomorrow. Sylvain now realizes that in dragging out his journey, he has probably only given his parents enough time to scope out the eligible ladies in King Dimitri’s coterie, to see who may make a notable match for their crested heir. The Margrave and Margravine have probably lined them up in the entrance hall of the manor, waiting to greet Sylvain at the door.
The thought stilled his feet even further. If that’s what was waiting for him, there’s no point in speeding towards it. He tied his horse up at a stable near the entrance of town for the time being and decided to get lost in the Yuletide market.
Sylvain let himself be enveloped the flow of the crowds moving through the streets. It had been a while since Sylvain had last been in Gautier but just in case, he pulled his weathered riding cloak closer around him.
He was finishing the last of a sweet bun when Sylvain emerged into the town square. A band had set up on the far end and pairs of dancers were lining up next to each other. Sylvain settled in to watch but an older woman grabbed his wrist.
“What’re you doing just sitting around? Come on, there’s not enough lads to fill out the numbers,” she said as she pulled Sylvain behind her. He considered protesting but how could he resist coming to the aid of any fair maiden when asked?
They lined up side-by-side, hand-in-hand, across from another couple. Sylvain had been trained in the basic dances expected of Faerghus nobles, although he hadn’t had much chance to put them to use between battles at the border (shockingly not a popular pastime with a bunch of men at camp). He figured he should pick this up quick enough.
That was until his lovely partner and everyone around began swinging their legs out side-to-side. Which was new.
Noble dances were much more… contained, comparatively. Small, graceful steps, a jaunty hop or two, and turns to make sweeping noblewomen’s gowns twirl just right.
In other words, boring.
This however, was fun. A leap forward on one foot then the other. The leg closest to your partner swept across you outwards, your outer leg kicked up towards your partner (without hitting them). And repeat, with some variations. Once Sylvain was able to stop apologizing for almost injuring several of his neighbors in the line and began to get the rhythm down enough to at least avoid incident.
After a couple of rounds, the ladies twirled to the right on to the next dancer in line. Sylvain had just handed off his partner to the person beside him when someone barreled into him. He was almost knocked off his feet (which probably would’ve incurred some thrilling kicks to the head) but he grabbed the other person by the shoulders to steady them both.
Sylvain looked down and a pair of bright amber eyes stared up at him, reflecting Sylvain’s shock back at him. A man with sharp cheeks and black hair had landed in his arms. The man whipped his head around looking for whoever he was actually supposed to be dancing with but someone from the crowd piped up, “Just keep him and go on.”
Sylvain could only oblige in order to not get trampled further by the crowd.
One step forward, then another. Legs kicked out to the side then kicked in. At least they were supposed to, except Sylvain’s new partner was distracted, moving his legs in a clumsy searching sweep trying to find the rhythm.
Trying to break the tension, Sylvain ventured, “So, do you dance often?”
“Not if I can help it and definitely not whatever this is,” his dance partner bit back.
“It helps if you don’t look down at your legs as much and just try to feel it out as you go,” Sylvain said. He decided to take a chance, “It’s kind of like footwork drills, you know?”
His partner looked like he was about to snipe back at him but ended up holding whatever he was going to say. Instead, he pulled his eyes up to meet Sylvain’s gaze.
Did he mention how beautiful this stranger was?
It was very hard for Sylvain to not stumble himself as he drank in the other man’s face, eyes trying to catalogue as many details as he could as quickly as possible. The delicate lantern light reflecting in his eyes. The faint blush across his cheeks. The messy bun. Lips chapped from the cold night.
But then his partner redirected his gaze forward and Sylvain attempted to refocus himself as well. Sylvain tried to subtly use his body to guide his dance partner, signalling what direction the next step would take them in. And the other man started to relax into the moves and they fell into rhythm together.
Shortly after, the music crescendoed and the dance ended. Everyone in the square turned to applaud the band before either lining up for the next dance or dispersing back into the festival.
Sylvain could see his dance partner next to him scanning the crowd, probably looking for the person he came with. But Sylvain was never one to not at lesat try, so he asked, “I was thinking of getting some meat skewers from the stall over there, if you’d be interested…?”
His new friend indeed perked up and turned back to Sylvain, seeming to internally weigh his options. Eventually he said, “Well, if you’re treating.”
Sylvain hadn’t actually offered to pay but semantics. The other man finally spotted who he was looking for in the crowd. Sylvain saw a short, red-haired woman waving back enthusiastically across the square before she pointed at the band. The man made a motion as if to shoo her off then jerked a thumb towards the foot stalls. His lady friend seemed to understand and turned to line up for the next dance with the blonde woman standing next to her.
Sylvain purchased a variety of skewers from the best-smelling stall and then made his way to where his new friend had claimed a bench at the end of the square.
“So,” the man started as he took a skewer from the plate Sylvain offered to him, “how’d you know I’m trained with swords?”
Ah, so Sylvain had been right, although he hadn’t been able to pinpoint the particular weapon. “The calluses on your hand. And your grip was pretty strong. Not to mention the muscle definition I felt in those arms when you threw yourself at me.”
The man choked on the bite he was chewing. “I did not throw myself at anyone. No one said we’d be changing partners.”
“So, not a regular at these functions then,” Sylvain observed.
His new friend got defensive. “It took you a minute to get it too.”
Oh? “Does that mean I had already caught your eye?” The man looked like he may truly stab Sylvain with the empty skewer in his hand so Sylvain laughed. “I’m just kidding. You caught me. I am from Gautier but I haven’t lived here for years. Just returned from the border.”
“With Sreng?” That perked his friend’s interest. “How strong are they really? I’ve read reports that say they can hold off an entire battalion of our soldiers with just one hundred of their men. I want to see it for myself but my father won’t let me.”
“Funny, I’m only up there because of my dad. It was either get married or join the army. Bleak prospects all around.” And now he’s come back to swear a lifelong oath to a master he doesn’t know, so he guesses he ended up in the same place anyway.
The other man seemed to consider Sylvain seriously. “You ever think about just giving it all up?”
Sylvain pictured the crossroads outside of town. “I used to when I was young. Tried to run away a few times but never made it very far. And then I just sort of… gave up on it. I don’t know what would be more cowardly, trying to wheedle my way out of what really isn’t that bad of a life or just going with the flow.” Sylvain was quiet. “Did you ever want to?”
The man stared at him, quiet and intense. Maybe it was the carefree festival spirit or weight of the letter in his pocket that loosened Sylvain’s tongue. He started, “Would you want to-”
The booming sound of the church bell tolling above them shattered the moment in an instant.
The red-haired girl from earlier runs over to them frantically, “I’m so so sorry!! I completely lost track of time and now it’s so late and they had to have realized that we’re missing and our dads are going to kill us.” She tugged on the other man’s sleeve to get him to stand up.
Sylvain rose from his seat as well, “I guess I should stop stalling too and get on my way. Thank you for the dance, it was an honor.” Sylvain overexaggerated a bow and winked at his dance partner.
The other man grabbed his arm, insistent. He searched Sylvain’s face for a second, before saying, “Just. Do whatever it is you want to do.” He turned and followed his friend away into the crowd.
—
Sylvain retrieved his horse and finally finished the journey to Gautier Manor. He selfishly hoped that at this late hour, everyone else would be fast asleep so he could put off the inevitable lecture about how disrespectful and selfish his late arrival was.
Their house seneschal was the one who greeted him at the door. “Lord Sylvain, thank the goddess you are finally here. Do you know the near panic we’ve had tonight between the final preparations for tomorrow, your delayed arrival, and Lady Dominic and the prince missin-”
Before he can continue on his tirade, a darker-skinned young man approached them both with a bow, “Pardon my interruption, sir. I just wanted to let you know that we’ve actually located them both now. They seemed to have… gotten turned around in the gardens. All is well.”
The seneschal turned to face the messenger of this news, “Young people, these days. None of you have any sense of…”
Sylvain used this distraction as his chance to make a break for the stairs up to the bedchambers.
The next day was spent entirely in rituals meant to prepare Sylvain’s body and soul for the sacred pledge he was about to make to his new liege. The royal priest who was overseeing today’s events sighed when he took in Sylvain’s bedraggled state, yawning from a long night of poor sleep. “Between you and the young prince,” the priest said, “I worry for the state of our kingdom. You both need to take this more seriously.”
The rest of the morning was to be spent in prayer and contemplation. Then a bath with blessed oils. The cleansing and purification of his weapons. It culminated with him receiving a new set of armor, designed in the style of the new house he would be serving. His fingers ran over the Fraldarius details on the armor, startlingly novel after a lifetime of wearing Gautier signets.
Sylvain went through the motions of these holy sacraments, but his mind kept wandering back to the stranger he met last night. Do whatever it is you want to do . What did he want to do? If he were to try to run away one last time, would he manage to actually make it this time?
As Sylvain had laid awake last night, too exhausted to actually sleep, he imagined the man waiting for him at the town gates. Two horses saddled up and ready for them to ride off together, no destination in mind. Open to going wherever their whims would take them, no masters or families to be beholden to.
But what if the other man hadn’t actually meant that at all? Would Sylvain finally crumble under the hammer of disappointment if his stranger wasn’t there waiting for him?
The same swirling thoughts kept Sylvain in a chokehold as he went through the motions of letting himself be dressed and guided to the banquet hall where the knighting ceremony would take place. Internally, he begged himself to be selfish for once, to choose something of his own for the first time. He vaguely registered the heavy wooden doors being opened, his name being announced. He was subtly prodded to move forward but each step felt heavier than the last, a massive undertaking.
Do whatever it is you want to do .
Sylvain was almost at the front of the hall, out of time. He gathered enough resolve to look up -
And there was the stranger, right in front of him.
But not in a rough-hewn cloak and a sloppy bun. Instead, he was dressed in rich fur-trimmed turquoise robes and his hair was pulled back in an intricate braid. When he saw Sylvain finally raise his eyes, he looked surprised for a moment but then the corner of his lips quirked up just for a moment.
And Sylvain knew what he wanted to do.
The rest of the ceremony was a blur. For the first time, Sylvain was grateful for the years of balls and other decorous gatherings he had been made to attend as a noble. He was able to get through most everything relying on muscle memory, a vague gleaning from context of where to stand, when to repeat after the priest, what was expected from him. Because through the entirety of it, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the Yuletide market stranger. Off of Felix Hugo Fraldarius, his new liege. And what held his gaze there was that through most of it, Felix didn’t take his eyes off of him either.
Finally, Sylvain was directed to kneel in front of his new lord. He bowed his head in servitude, but couldn’t help angling his face up as high as he would dare so he could see Felix’s face through the curtain of his bangs.
The priest intoned, “Sylvain Jose Gautier, do you swear to uphold the honor of the brotherhood of the knights of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus? To never commit outrage or murder, to spurn treason, to give mercy unto those who ask for mercy, upon pain of death? To loyaly serve your lord, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, to House Fraldarius, and your king, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, for the remainder of your days?”
“I swear it.” And Sylvain had never been more honest in his life.
Something quickly passed over Felix’s face, a little scrunch of the brow and pursing of his lips. Sylvain only had time to register it but couldn’t decipher it.
Besides, there was little he could focus on when Felix’s stare was like a brand on his skin, more cleansing than any oil or fire or ritual. Felix lifted his sword, tapping Sylvain’s armored shoulders one then the other, like sealing the oath with a kiss.
Then it was done.
King Dimitri announced the ceremony complete and Sylvain’s father motioned them into the beginnings of the feast. Platters piled precariously high with decadent versions of traditional Yuletide dishes were brought out from the kitchens. Sylvain and Felix were whisked towards the long tables, sat near each other but not nearly close enough for Sylvain to ask every question he had for him. Did you know? Did you think about running away from this too? What the fuck? And unlike during the ceremony, Sylvain couldn’t quite manage to catch Felix’s eye.
Luckily, Sylvain found himself seated next to another unexpectedly familiar face as a petite re-haired girl claimed the spot next to him. “I don’t believe we had a chance to properly meet last night. I’m Annette!”
While Sylvain still felt his attention pulled towards Felix like a magnet, he was genuinely delighted with Lady Dominic’s company. “So,” he asked, “do you and Felix have a hobby of sneaking out to pretend at being peasants or was this just a special Yuletide treat?”
She laughed, “Felix was nice enough to come with me. Usually it takes a lot more pleading with him, but I think he was just happy to have an excuse to get out of the manor. I hate to tell you this five minutes into the job, but you’ll have to keep an eye on him. Although usually it’s just him skipping meetings to stay in the practice grounds.”
Annette gracefully answered every question and Sylvain ate up her answers more than he did any actual food. Stories including how she and Felix met once his father brought him along to the capital to help the newly orphaned Dimitri.
Finally, the food was cleared and the tables pushed back in order to make room for dancing. Sylvain leaned down and whispered in Annette’s ear. She laughed and set about her mission. She wandered over to where Felix was standing, awkward, and pleaded with him to join in the dance before he could stalk off to the back of the room. She managed to succeed (Sylvain would keep that in mind. He wasn’t above using what resources were available to him). Sylvain asked another lovely lady for the honor of a dance and they lined up next to Felix and Annette.
The musicians raised their instruments and began playing. These were the dances Sylvain was used to but now he missed the energetic looseness of the dance in the town square last night. The smaller steps of the more courtly dance now felt stilted and slow.
When it came time to trade off partners, Sylvain’s eyes found Annette’s and she winked. Rather than pass his partner off to Felix, Sylvain passed her to Annette and grabbed Felix’s reaching hands for himself. Felix looked surprised and choked off a startled objection.
Finally. Finally after waiting all night. Now Sylvain didn’t know what to do with himself, he hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead. He opened his mouth, hoping something would come out. “I thought you said you didn’t dance often?” was the best he could do.
But now, Felix wouldn’t quite meet his eye. He looked somewhere between bashful and conflicted. Sylvain drank it in all the same, eager to chart every new expression. “I’m going to make her sing the entire way back to Fhirdiad for this,” Felix muttered under his breath.
“I must say, the footwork has improved. Did you spend last night practicing?” Sylvain couldn’t help but tease.
“Worry about yourself,” Felix grumbled.
“So… a prince huh?” Sylvain asked.
Felix rolled his eyes, “It’s stupid, just an honorary title more than anything. Once Dimitri has some little princes or princesses to take over for him, I’ll renounce the title and just go back to being a Duke.”
The music crescendoed and the dance comes to an end. They turned to politely clap for the musicians and by the time Sylvain turned back, Felix was weaving through the party crowd away from him. Sylvain almost lost sight of him as the dancers mingled and began resetting for the next dance. But finally, Sylvain spotted Felix heading towards the door out to the terraces.
Sylvain brushed off an offer to dance as well as a sharp question from his father asking where he was going, pushing past them to follow Felix. The dancing has only just begun so no one else had yet retreated outside for a breath of fresh air and respite from the crowd. All except one.
Gautier Manor had always taken pride in its elaborate Yuletide light fixtures, artful arrangements made of innumerable candles. Felix stood at the balcony rail, staring out at the displays. His silhouette was swathed in the embrace of the gentle candlelight. Burning down all of those candles for just one night had seemed like a waste to Sylvain before but now he couldn’t help but appreciate it.
His exit outside hadn’t been exactly quiet so he figured his presence was known, but Sylvain approached Felix gently. He left a couple of steps between them. “Annette wasn’t joking that you’re a flight risk. I guess I have to keep a close eye on you.”
Felix seemed to bristle at that. “You don’t have to.” He says. “You don’t have to do anything.”
Somehow the mood had turned sour and Sylvain wasn’t sure what he had done. “I don’t mind. Besides, you’re smart to admire the view now before the candles burn down too far.”
“Not that, you idiot.” Felix finally turned and squared up to Sylvain, looking him fully in the eye for the first time since the ceremony had ended. “Did you really mean it? Don’t do this if you don’t want to. Don’t- not just because out of some fucked up feeling like you have to just to prove it to your father or someone-” Felix cut himself off, looking like he’d said more than he meant to.
Sylvain stared, taken aback until he remembered. He’d told Felix last night at the festival that he had only been at the border, only been in training to be a knight, because of his father.
Felix must’ve interpreted Sylvain’s startled silence as an answer because he started talking again. “I’ll figure something out. I’ll go make Dimitri do... Undo it. Whatever. He must be able to, otherwise what good is it being king. He can…”
Felix moved to go back inside but Sylvain grabbed him by his arm. Felix looked surprised. “What’re you doing?” He snapped.
“Don’t.”
“But you said-”
“I know . I know I did but…” How could he explain to Felix that just by trying to give Sylvain the chance to choose for himself, Felix had already shown more love to him than anyone else ever had. How could he possibly convince him that Sylvain honestly had never cared at all about being a knight, but the moment he saw Felix at the ceremony-
Sylvain pulled Felix to him, cupped his face with the other hand, and kissed him. He felt as much as he heard a small yelp come from Felix, but he relaxed into the touch, twisting a hand into Sylvain’s jacket for leverage.
A moment later, Sylvain pulled back just enough to catch his breath. He pressed his forehead to Felix’s and watched as the other man slowly opened his eyes. Sylvain said, “You told me to do what wanted to do for a change. And I did.”
Felix stared at Sylvain with a combination of wonder and absolute puzzlement. “Do you actually know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asked. “I don’t need any protecting, and I don’t need a glorified babysitter.”
Sylvain chuckled, “I cannot wait to see you with a sword in your hand. Especially after seeing your footwork in action.”