Chapter Text
Sylvain had never been so afraid in his life.
He'd joined the Black Eagles on a whim. What could he say? The professor was easier on the eyes than Hanneman. And that was pretty much the extent of it. Because of that, he'd had quite an eventful year. He killed his brother, inherited the Lance of Ruin early, watched his professor disappear then reappear through a hole in the sky with her appearance vastly different, and, just last month, witnessed his house leader launch an attack on the Holy Tomb.
And his professor joined her. As did a good chunk of the academy's most skilled students.
Including Felix.
Felix had joined a few months after Sylvain, bored with the missions the Blue Lions were given and wanting to take part in the more eventful missions that the Black Eagles seemed to always get. And he was one of the first students to follow Edelgard and the professor back to the Empire.
Now Sylvain was faced with the same decision. And it terrified him. He hated the system too, he detested the value of Crests. That wasn't the issue. The issue was unchaining himself.
Sylvain lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling of his dorm room. It brought him back to when he was nine years old. His father took the son of one of Sreng's leaders captive after another border spat, and started educating him. But Leif wasn't oblivious to how unhappy Sylvain was. He became like an older brother to him, a real one, who actually cared about him as a person. When Sylvain told Leif that the Margrave had really been caring for him because he missed Miklan, Leif decided enough was enough. He planned to escape, and begged Sylvain to come with him. But Sylvain was too afraid. He watched Leif gallop away north on a stolen horse from the stables, disappearing into the night.
What he didn't expect was for him to come back, the Sreng army behind him, sending a messenger with a note in the language of Fodlan. It demanded that the Margrave surrender Sylvain, or they would attack. Unfortunately, Sylvain was not released from his prison, and Leif's army was forced to retreat again after heavy losses.
Sylvain turned onto his side to stare at the wall. If he was being honest, he'd have run away a long time ago if he thought he could. But he was a coward, shackled to the ground by his fear. He was afraid of his father, afraid of Dimitri, and most of all, he knew Felix would never forgive him if he left without him. And Sylvain wasn't sure he could make it out with another passenger. And now, because of his cowardice, Felix left without him.
Part of it made sense. Felix hated his father, his house, Dimitri, and all of the values Faerghus held aloft. It made sense for him to jump at a chance to leave it all behind. It made sense for him to cut his own path, free of all the expectations he'd dealt with for so long. And he had the will to follow through with it, in spite of everything.
What didn't make sense was him not saying a word to Sylvain about it before taking off. Felix might be abrasive, but he took the promise they made as kids extremely seriously, probably even more than Sylvain did. ‘We live together until we die together.’ Why would he leave now, after everything they've been through, without even telling Sylvain of his plans? That question was eating him alive; every day that passed since Felix left bit another chunk of his heart away.
It was just like all those love songs Sylvain would rip off when trying to reel girls back in before he was done with them. It wasn't until Felix was gone that Sylvain finally realized how essential his presence was to him. He missed Felix so much it physically hurt him.
He couldn’t live like this. If he stayed, if he didn’t finally throw away his fear and break out of his cage, he might have to fight Felix. And Sylvain knew that if that happened, if it came down to the two of them fighting, Sylvain would let Felix win.
He couldn’t break their promise like that.
As he sat up in his bed, he could almost feel the heavy chains trying to drag him back down. Slowly, very slowly, he rose to his feet, fighting the cuffs on his wrists and ankles as he dragged himself across his room to his desk. He pulled out the chair, and, ignoring his bonds, sat down, grabbed his quill and a sheet of paper, and began to write.
Dear Ingrid,
I am sure that, by the time you read this, you'll have already figured out what happened. You’re a smart cookie. And because you're smart, I think you know why I left. But just in case, here it is straight from me.
I can't follow the path my blood has decided on for me anymore. I can’t continue this vicious cycle of Crest-bearers inheriting everything while those without get nothing. I can't watch Miklan happen again. I refuse to.
I know you'll never leave the kingdom. I know you won't forgive me for leaving, or Felix, for that matter. I hope we die before we have to fight you. I don't know if my heart is strong enough to kill you.
Thank you for everything.
— Sylvain
Sylvain wiped away the wetness in his eyes and stood up. He didn't have time for tears. He had to leave now.
As he pulled out his suitcase and started carefully but quickly placing his essentials inside, he thought about how he was going to do this. The guards were fortifying the monastery, preparing for Edelgard's attack. He would need his horse to get to the Empire in time. He would have to bring his Relic; he didn't want the Church to have it, and he might need it in case he had to fight his way out. Besides, he did promise Lady Rhea not to let anyone else get their hands on it. A bit ironic, in retrospect.
Once he had his bag packed, he slung it over his shoulder and snatched the Lance of Ruin from the corner by his desk. He took one last look around his room, this little place he called home for the past year, shook his head, and closed the door before he could change his mind.
The walk from the dormitory to the stables was thankfully uneventful. Sylvain supposed all the guards were out preparing defenses on the outer walls. They didn't have enough people to monitor the inside. He did have to sneak past the Gatekeeper on his way to the marketplace's exit, but the guy was sound asleep. Some guard he was. The thing Sylvain was worried about now was getting past the inner walls into the town. He led his horse to the marketplace gate, wondering how he was supposed to get through. The crank was just sitting there, fully functional, but Sylvain knew that was a bad idea. It would be loud.
“Psst! Sylvain! Over here!”
Sylvain nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice coming from somewhere to his left. Peeking out from behind the Battalion Guild was Ashe of all people. Sylvain hurried over with his horse, leading him behind the stalls to where Ashe and his own horse were hiding. “Ashe? What are you doing out here?” he whispered.
Ashe looked down at his shoes sadly. “The same thing I think you're doing,” he admitted. “At first, I wasn't sure. Edelgard's actions seemed really rash, and I didn't know if I wanted to follow the professor. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I can't fight for the Church. They killed my brother and then lied about it.” Ashe sniffed a little and wiped his eyes. “I don't know what’s right anymore. Maybe nobody is. But I know my brother didn't deserve to die, and neither did Lonato.”
Sylvain just looked at his classmate sadly. The kid had gone through worse than him this year. He wasn’t on the mission when Lonato was confronted, but Ashe was. He insisted, because he wanted to check on his siblings and try to talk to Lonato. But he never got the chance before Catherine felled the lord. “You really will be a great knight, Ashe,” Sylvain told him.
Ashe nodded. “Edelgard said the same, when she talked to me later,” he croaked. “She told me I had been very brave to go with them. She also said that… that the people we killed did not die in vain. That, as emperor, she would build a world where the cause they died for was honored. I didn't understand then, and she didn’t explain. I guess this is what she meant.”
Sylvain gave Ashe's shoulder a squeeze. “Hey. We gotta focus. We'll worry about meanings when we get out of here. Okay?”
Ashe rubbed his eyes and squared his shoulders. “...Okay. You’re right.”
“Good. Problem is, I don't think the front gate is an option.”
“I agree, but I'm already ahead of you on that one. I found a side exit over here, big enough for the horses. I just need to pick the lock.”
“Huh. Okay, then. Works for me.”
Sylvain watched as Ashe headed over to a large door behind the shops. It looked like it hadn't been used in a while, but they really didn't have another choice. Ashe fished in his pocket for a second before pulling out what looked like a ring full of keys, but Sylvain knew better. Those were Ashe's lock picks. His somber demeanor was gone now. His footsteps were light and his movements were deft as he crouched down and got to work, wearing a look of purpose on his face. Sylvain grabbed the reins of both horses and guided them over to his friend, and he had to wait barely a moment before they heard a click!
“Wow. Master of your craft, huh?” he commented.
“I guess,” Ashe answered vaguely as he opened the door, somehow minimizing the creaking as if he had some kind of magic touch. “Let's go.”
They exited through Ashe's shortcut, walking straight through the monastery walls and emerging into the town. They stuck to the back alleyways, because there actually were guards out here. Sylvain just silently followed his friend, who seemed to know where he was going. They were at the town outskirts before they finally found themselves stuck. Every exit was under watch.
“Shit. Now what?” Sylvain hissed.
“I've got an idea but… I don’t like it.” Ashe muttered.
“What is it?”
Ashe pointed at the watchtower. “Even if we took out the guards at one of the gates, that guard up there will sound the alarm. We need a distraction. The townspeople are evacuated, so…”
“So…?”
Ashe sighed and took out one arrow. He then produced a small box from a side pocket of his bag, and pulled out what looked like a dirty handkerchief from it. Sylvain immediately noticed a very unique smell that almost seemed to burn his nose and lungs. Ashe stuck it onto the arrowhead, and looked at Sylvain with a bit of a wince. “You learned fire magic, right?”
Sylvain raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes… why?”
“Claude gave me this thing a while back ‘for emergencies.’ It's been soaked in this black water from Almyra that's supposedly really flammable, and can burn even when shot on an arrow.”
Sylvain’s eyes widened. “Woah. Ashe. You’re not suggesting-”
“Can you think of a better option?”
“...Not really.”
“Follow me.”
They walked a small distance from their steeds until there was a clear shot at the watchtower. Ashe took out his bow and aimed for the top, then nodded at Sylvain. With an exhale, Sylvain reached out a hand towards the cloth and summoned a small flame in his palm. Immediately the cloth burst into flames, and Sylvain pulled his arm back just in time for Ashe to let it fly. It soared upwards and right over the ramparts, and in seconds there were shouts and smoke from the top. Chaos broke out. Guards were yelling and running towards the tower, leaving their posts unattended to help put out the sudden fire.
Sylvain and Ashe wasted no time. They rushed back to their horses, clambered onto their backs, and galloped out of the nearest gate, heading east down the mountain, on their way to Adrestia.
It took almost five days, but Sylvain and Ashe finally came upon a fort flying red and black flags. They were stopped by the watch, but they quickly explained themselves and were soon eating rations in one of the tents. Both of them were exhausted, but apparently they arrived just in time. They were moving out tomorrow. Sylvain was hoping to see Felix upon their arrival, but instead, the people who came to their tent were none other than the new emperor and her vassal themselves.
When Edelgard and Hubert entered, Sylvain almost choked on his potatoes. Ashe was quick to rise to his feet and bow, and Sylvain hurried to follow suit. But Edelgard just laughed.
“Please, that isn't necessary,” she told them with a smile. “I came to say hello as your classmate, not your general or emperor.”
“But-!” Ashe piped up before Sylvain clapped him on the back.
“Hey, if her Majesty says so, then we should do as asked!” he quipped. “Lovely as ever, Lady Edelgard.”
“Say that again,” Hubert growled, “and you will regret coming here. This is not the academy. You shall be expected to behave yourself here, Sylvain.”
“Ah. Yes,” Sylvain coughed. “Of course.”
Edelgard just sighed and shook her head. “Anyways. I am happy to see you both. With you two, almost everyone from our house will have joined us. Alas, it appears Petra and Ferdinand chose to stay.”
“Not entirely surprising,” Hubert mused. “Brigid must be tired of the Empire by now. And after removing the influence of that despicable Prime Minister Aegir and our agenda for the rest of the nobility, I would have been shocked if Ferdinand had followed us.”
“Yes. His ideals about the nobility directly clash with ours. Speaking of which…” Edelgard put a finger to her chin as she studied Ashe and Sylvain. “May I ask what finally pushed you both to join us?”
“I just couldn’t stop thinking about my brother and Lonato, Your Majesty,” Ashe answered sadly. “They didn't deserve what happened to them. Even if they were picking a fight with the Church… no. Especially because of that. I can't fight for the Church. They killed my brother, and then they lied about it. I want to be a knight who fights against such an unjust world.”
Edelgard smiled at him. “You've grown, Ashe. Lonato would be proud of you.”
“Thank you. I think so too.”
“And Sylvain?” Edelgard asked. “You are the heir to one of the houses that makes up the backbone of the Kingdom. What brings you to our side?”
“Because I hate Crests, Your Majesty,” Sylvain replied, his voice hardening. “All mine has ever done for me is make me miserable. My brother wanted to kill me for it, and all I am to any woman in Fodlan is a trophy. I want this cycle gone.”
“Then you are in good company,” Edelgard agreed. “I plan to rid Fodlan of the grip that Crests have on it. And… I don't know if it means anything, but I am a woman, and what you are to me is a victim of the system. I swear by the war's end, I will have it torn down. Will you help me?”
Sylvain set his jaw. “Your Majesty, it would be my pleasure.”
-
After resting up a bit, Sylvain couldn't wait anymore. He asked Edelgard where he could find Felix, and the answer, of course, was the training grounds. He made his way down the stone hallways until he found the correct door, opened it, and stepped inside.
It was smaller than the training grounds at the monastery. More around the size of the training area in the knight's hall. In the center, slashing away at the air, was Felix. But Sylvain immediately noticed something different. His hair no longer was pulled back in the usual bun. It was a short ponytail now, not even reaching the back of his neck.
“You cut your hair,” Sylvain commented fondly, idling forward.
Felix dropped his stance and let his sword hang at his side. “New allegiance, new me. It was getting hard to care for, anyway.”
“It looks good.”
“Thank you.” Felix finally turned to face him with a small smile. “I'm glad you came around. No point in fighting for the Boar.”
“No point in fighting for a system I hate,” Sylvain added.
Felix nodded and stuck his sword in the dirt. He then went and sat down on the bench to the side, and Sylvain joined him. They were silent for a moment before Sylvain spoke up again. “You left without saying anything.” The words to me were left unsaid, but it seemed obvious enough.
“Sorry. I wanted you to come with me, but I didn't think you had it in you yet. I knew that if you were going to leave, it had to be your choice. So I broke out of the cage and left the door open for you. I figured it was the best I could do.”
Sylvain chuckled. “You were right. I wasn't ready when you left. Hell, I'm still terrified.”
“Still, I am grateful you came. If we were on opposite sides…”
“We wouldn't be able to die together,” Sylvain finished.
Felix nodded, his face looking a little red. “By the way… since we've both left our houses, our titles and responsibilities are behind us as well.”
Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, what about it?”
Felix turned to him, his face even redder but full of resolve. “So I can finally do this,” he said, before grabbing Sylvain’s collar, pulling him close, and crushing their lips together.
At first Sylvain was frozen in shock. Then he felt his heart swell and his core grow warm with a fire that none of his many kisses before now came close to sparking. At the same time, he realized that this was likely Felix’s first kiss. Not wanting to make a mess of such an important milestone, Sylvain put all his prior experience to use. A bench wasn't the best place for this, but he could make it work. Without separating their lips, Sylvain pulled Felix onto his lap to be in a less awkward position and rested his hands on his hips. He kissed Felix gently but passionately, because as much as Sylvain wanted to pin him to a wall and devour him, he knew first kisses shouldn't be like that.
But goddess, Felix was making it difficult to resist that, simply by virtue of being Felix. His lips tasted of freedom, and his body melted against Sylvain like molten lava, burning away any remnants of his bondage to his house.
Sylvain was free. They both were.