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Honestly, Sylvain should’ve expected this. During his time as a student at the academy, he was notorious for constantly chasing after women. Although he was never truly serious about it, Sylvain nonetheless gave himself the reputation of an insatiable womanizer.
He had always resented the noble blood that flowed within him. As the son of the noble Gautier family, Sylvain was fated to be married off to a woman he most likely did not know, let alone love, all for the sake of raising his family’s status. Sylvain was simply a tool, a commodity in the eyes of his very own parents. He was nothing more than a means to obtain prestige and a canvas for his parents to project their own “greatness” upon. No one saw him for him . Men and women alike saw him for his oh so precious bloodline and most of all, his crest. Even his closest friends sometimes failed to see through his charismatic facade. So, if he was forced to be invisible to the world, who could blame him for refusing to step out from his facade. Call him childish or petty, but this was Sylvain’s small form of rebellion against his fate which mocked him.
That was, until Sylvain met the professor. Despite the flirtatious persona he put on, the professor’s eyes always seemed to bear into his very being. Sylvain would scoff at the saying “eyes are the windows to the soul”, but while standing before his professor, he felt so exposed . In all his many moments of flirting with women, he has of course inevitably been met with rejection. But the professor’s refusals of his advancements didn’t feel like rejections, no, they felt more like interrogations. Whenever the professor refused to entertain Sylvain’s advances, her piercing gaze questioned him.
Why are you doing this?
Her eyes completely saw through the facade Sylvain had carefully crafted, and rather than judging his actions or shaming him, the professor instead seemed to question his entire being. The professor seemed to be well aware Sylvain was never serious when flirting with others. Whenever the professor’s gaze fell upon him, they always silently asked the same questions over and over again.
You’re not serious about this, so why do you do it?
Sylvain felt so seen . And it terrified him. To be discovered–to be vulnerable like that was too overwhelming. For so long, he had hidden behind his flirtatious persona, but the professor had yanked him out from that cover into the open with nowhere to hide. Sylvain had initially lashed out at the professor.
What could she ever hope to comprehend about me? She would never understand how it feels to be caged by the very blood that flows within you. She even said so herself .
The professor prodded him, urging Sylvain to reach out to her, to connect, to be Sylvain with her, but he couldn’t trust it.
The professor would be just like the rest.
“You were free. Nobody pretended to like you. I kind of hate you for that… You were a spoiled brat who should pay for that Crest. Maybe I’ll collect the debt.”
He couldn’t control the vile which spilled from his lips in that moment. Although Sylvain played it off as a joke, a small part of him deep down meant those words. The professor continued to make genuine attempts at connecting with Sylvain, trying to get him to shed his facade. She asked him questions, trying to understand the life which shaped him to that day. There was no judgement, just simply inquiries. And she listened. She truly listened to him. But, he just couldn’t reach back out towards her.
She’ll be just like the rest.
But the months passed on, with deep conversations about battle strategies and late night escapes to play board games. With the professor, Sylvain never felt inclined to maintain his persona. He yearned to cross that bridge towards the professor. Sylvain wanted to have someone who he could truly talk to. Someone who would finally see him for himself, not just his Crest. Sylvain had always been perceived as a breeding stud to make crest babies as he put it bluntly, but in front of her, he was simply Sylvain. Just as he finally mustered enough courage to reach back out towards the professor, she disappeared. The day Edelgard and the Empire attacked, the professor who he had grown to hold dear to him disappeared down a large cavern, along with the iridescent dragon that seemingly appeared out of nowhere on the battlefield. Sylvain had to push down every instinct to run after her, to try to save her. Biting down the bile which threatened to come up, he fled from the battlefield, his nails digging into his palms.
The next five years dragged on by. He managed to meet up with Felix and Ingrid at some point during that time, but his memory of those years were a blur from his simple pursuit of survival. During those days Sylvain wished he had been able to trust the professor before she disappeared. He wished he could have told her how he was thankful for having been able to meet her. He wished he could have shown her how he found the courage to challenge his fate. He wished she could have seen how she was the one who pushed him to reclaim his life and fate. He wished to see her again.
But she was gone.
So, on that fateful day when he, Felix, and Ingrid decided on a whim to return to the monastery ruins to fulfill their promise to a ghost, Sylvain wanted to drop to his knees and praise any omniscient divine being. The moment he laid eyes on the blazing green hair of his beloved professor whom he had believed to have lost all those years ago, he had to fight every urge to make a mad dash towards her to see her. To feel her. To make sure she was real. After the initial class reunion, Sylvain promised he would not let his feelings go unsaid, he did not want to live with those regrets. He would make sure the professor understood how much she meant to him and how she was the one to become his salvation.
And so, which finally brought him to his current conundrum. When the war finally ended, Sylvain had asked the professor to meet him at the Goddess Tower. He arrived too early because his nerves kept him antsy. He intended to propose to the professor since there was no one else he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. She was the one who truly saw him for himself and showed him that there was no shame in trying to live the life he wanted.
“I want to marry someone I really care about. And, you know, maybe I can’t… but I’d like to try.”
Although he, to some extent, expected rejection because of his remaining promiscuousness, it still was a punch in the gut when the professor had refused his proposal.
“I’m sorry, Sylvain, but I don’t think what you’re feeling towards me is love, but just admiration. I think the right person for you is somewhere else out there, not me.”
“You don’t believe me? I probably should have seen that coming… In that case, I’ll just have to propose to you over and over again… until you know I’m serious.”
To which the professor simply rolled her eyes with a small smile gracing her lips.
And that he did. Despite both party’s busy schedules following the end of the war, Sylvain still visited the professor essentially every week with a bouquet of flowers, professing his love for her loudly for all to hear, just for it to be followed by the professor’s curt “No”. In the beginning, many believed Sylvain would eventually move on to other women, as he had done during his academy days, but weeks turned to months without him letting up. It had become a routine at the monastery. Sylvain would arrive at the entrance, ask for where the professor was, then proceed to go to her, and propose with the bouquet of flowers he always bought on the way to the monastery. Although he was once notorious for chasing after women, Sylvain was now seen as a puppy who was constantly chasing after the professor. Many had discouraged Sylvain, but none seem to bring up the vases of flowers popping up around the places the professor frequents.
Just as it has been for the past number of months, Sylvain appeared at the entrance of the monastery, cheerfully greeting the gate guards as he typically did, to which the guards directed him towards the courtyard where the professor may be taking a break. Thanking them, he briskly walked towards his beloved professor–Byleth.
“Here again, Sir Gautier?”
“The professor will probably say no again”
“Haha! I wonder if this back and forth will ever end!”
Ignoring the comments as he passed, he finally reached the green clearing.
There she was, sitting, basking in the sunlight. Her luminescent hair flowing in the wind. Her face was completely serene, a small smile gracing her lips. Sylvain will never grow weary of the sight.
“Hey, Professor!”
She slowly turned to face him, and her eyes slowly opened letting her gentle gaze fall upon him. Her eyes crinkled with the rare smile that currently graced her lips. Byleth let out a small breath, leaning back on her palms. Sylvain could feel his chest clench at the sight.
“Sylvain. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Clearing his throat, Sylvain jogged over towards Byleth, dramatically falling onto one knee in front of her. He could hear a mixture of whispers, giggles, and sighs alike from those watching the routine spectacle.
“I promised I wouldn’t give up until you believed how serious I am about you. You helped me realize I am more than just my Crest. You were the one to help me love myself when I could do nothing but curse the blood that flows within me. I love you. More than anything. There is no one else I would rather spend the rest of my life with. Please , marry me.
A pregnant pause fell between them. Huffing out a small breath, Sylvain moved to stand back up, prepared to hear the same old “No” as he was always given for the past few months, but a small hand instead reached to grab a single blossom from the bouquet. Moving the small flower towards her face, Byleth’s gaze slid to Sylvain and he was permitted to relish in a foreign warmth held within those green stars.
“I accept.”
Many audible gasps could be heard as Sylvain’s eyes widened. He scrambled to his knees, grasping at Byleth’s thigh. His chest felt incredibly tight. Small, quick breaths escaped from his open lips, transforming into laughter.
“Th-this isn’t a dream, right? Prof– Byleth , you really accept my proposal?”
Two calloused hands moved to gently cup his face, and his face was tilted upward when he felt the gentlest of kisses press against his lips. The laughter stopped in Sylvain’s throat as he was made to bask in the presence of a smile, wider and warmer than he has ever seen.
“I love you, so I suppose I have no choice.”
The threat of tears stung his eyes as Byleth pulled out a small silver ring adorned with small purple crystals and slid the ring onto Sylvain’s shaking finger. He quickly pulled out the ring he always carried with him to his visits to the monastery and slid it onto her waiting finger. An immense wave of warmth surged throughout Sylvain’s chest as he witnessed his beloved admiring the ring. Wrapping his arms around Byleth’s waist, he nuzzled his head into her thighs. Her hands gently combed through his ginger locks.
“I’m going to spend the rest of our lives together trying to make you happy. I promise,” he said, rubbing the silver band which now decorated his ring finger.
Least to say, the monastery was in absolute chaos as the news spread like wildfire.