Silver Linings and Second Chances

by LaceKyoko1138

Summary:

An otherwise unassuming girl catches the eye of Sylvain. As she heads to choir practice, he claims he will sing praises to her as he would the goddess. Turns out he can't sing, but Wren finds him endearing anyway and hopes to get to know him despite the womanizing reputation. For once, someone sees right through Sylvain and he's not quite sure how to handle that.

Notes:

• For minispice.

You ever have that weird comfort fantasy you think about before bed because the pandemic has you stressed af and you need some sort of escape? Fanfiction has always been that for me, but this time I've decided to do something I haven't in a while: write about an OC in a fictional universe that I obviously do not own. Wren is someone I wish I was and she's a joy to write. My friend minispice (THEminiyuna on twitter) inspired me to finally flesh out the outline I wrote that took me literally 7 hours. I was so manic and man do I not regret it. I've got about 6 chapters written so far, so I'll probably be making some fairly regular updates. Here's hoping!

(I just realized I'm posting this on my mom's birthday. Whoops, I'm sorry Mom, all I do to cope is write fanfiction.)

I hope everyone is doing well during this horrible time and if my stories make you even a little bit happier, well, that makes me happy. Sylvain deserves happiness because man do people get sick of his shit. I think he's a doll but I also have questionable taste in men. May I also say his S support convo with Byleth is the fucking worst

ANYWAY! Please enjoy! <3

Chapter 1: Opposites Attract

Sylvain did as Sylvain does: hitting on girls in the reception hall. The day was nearly done, just an hour and a half before the dinner bell, and he was sitting in the benches surrounded by a flock of girls whose names he did not know, did not care to know, and he was currently deciding which one would accompany him for the evening, only to be left high and dry after. It was a typical Harpstring Moon day: warm, calm, and it was merely a month before his birthday. Soon the flowers to be woven into garlands for his birth month would bloom and he would bask in the gifts. It was really that easy for him. His house may not have won the recent mock battle, but the Blue Lions would redeem themselves come Wyvern Moon, not that he cared too much. He’d be winning regardless.

As they giggled at his manufactured and oversaturated lines, a wave of cerulean hair caught his attention. It was different, something he hadn’t quite seen before; deep, bright, reminiscent of a lake midday. Her hair was long and curly, the top half pulled into a sunshine gold ribbon, and it was a curious shade of blue. The way it curled, how thick it looked, reminded him somewhat of a lion’s mane. Fierce, beautiful. She had fairly pale skin, wore her school jacket with the sleeves rolled up (much like he did), and the skirt she wore was short and fitted; her legs looked amazing, especially with the thigh high socks. Her boots were ankle length but white like his. On her back was a brown leather knapsack looking bloated with books and other sundry things. What also got him was the look on her face; she looked very at peace, but also determined. There was a furrow in her brow that screamed ‘get in my way and I’ll fight you.’ It vaguely reminded him of Felix, but on her cute feminine face, Sylvain thought it was low key sexy.

In an unexpected move that Sylvain never used when he played his game, he got up mid-conversation and didn’t even say goodbye to his unofficial harem. They looked affronted, offended, disappointed, and upset, but Sylvain never cared about their feelings to begin with. But there was something about this girl… Walking on her own, back straight with purpose, he saw opportunity. And perhaps he was a little aroused. Regardless, there was an interest, and if anyone knew anything of Sylvain, he always liked to push his luck with any girl. And a girl he had never even went up against? He lived for the challenge.

She was heading out of the reception hall and onto the bridge that led to the cathedral. Interesting. What could she have to do there? Was she the praying type? But her general stance didn’t seem that of a pious woman. No, there was something else.

He followed her, trying to catch up, but before he could even say hello, she whipped around and asked, “Can I help you?” She stopped walking and Sylvain was so taken aback by her forwardness that he almost tripped over his own feet.

She gave him a withering stare as he, for once, struggled for words. This wasn’t how it ever went.

“Well, you know, a lovely lady needs a strong knight to escort her! That bag looks heavy. I’ll gladly carry it for you.” He found his rhythm again and winked at her.

She just stared, raising a single eyebrow. Then she rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to choir practice. I make this trek nearly every day. I think I’ll be fine without an escort.” She didn’t make to move, and continued looking at him. He noticed she was looking him up and down, but either because she was attracted to him or merely appraising him he could not say. Her expression did not betray much of her emotions. He could admit that she didn’t look very impressed.

He chuckled, trying to downplay how uncomfortable she was making him. This isn’t how it’s suppose to go. Why am I still here? “Hey, I like singing my praises to the goddess! Just as I will sing my praises to you!” He gave her his go-to smirk, looking at her like he could sing her praises all day.

She snorted. She actually snorted, cracking into a smile that only made her laugh harder. “Wowwwww, you sure are a dork, but alright. You can come sing praises to the goddess with me. Why not?” She shrugged and turned to continue her walk to the cathedral.

Sylvain felt like he was being duped. Suddenly he was no longer the predator, hoping to prey on some girl’s naivete. No, she had turned the tables and now he felt obligated to follow her because he already got this far, and suddenly he felt like he needed to prove himself, that he meant his words (even though he didn’t; he was just trying to get laid). Instead of being the tittering girl that all his exes were, she wasn’t impressed. She wasn’t playing coy. And for whatever reason, Sylvain liked that.

He nodded to himself and caught up to her, his long legs making it easy. He kept his posture nonchalant, hands behind his head, hips forward, trying to come across as relaxed. She didn’t really give him more attention than a side look when he joined her side and averted her eyes back in front of her.

He didn’t know how to make conversation. It seemed like all his practice of easing his way into a girl’s heart (and subsequently her skirt) went away. His normal lines weren’t working. She didn’t take to his compliments, his clear flirting. She paid him no attention.

Then they were at the cathedral and the girl led him to the congregation of student singers.

They all greeted her, from ‘hey good to see you,’ ‘hmm you’re later than normal,’ to ‘oh you brought a new recruit?’ Then, the students got a look at him. Some of the boys looked pissed and some of the girls looked upset. Sylvain recognized a few. Some of the boys had girlfriends he definitely dallied with, and the girls were simply his normal one night stands. One of the girls pulled his potential conquest aside and whispered something in her ear. But whatever the girl said didn’t seem to bother his bluebell beauty. She just laughed, throwing her head to the ceiling, and shrugged off her bag.

“Alright, we should begin,” and with that, she pulled out sheet music bound in a folder.

The choir director showed up, smiling at her. “Oh, Wren! Good to see you. We were finishing our warm-ups. You’ll be leading today.”

“Sure sure.” She waved for the other students to get into a formation.

Sylvain stood there for a moment, realizing with growing horror that he did not know what to do. He had never been in a choir, only singing when he went to church service and even then, he mostly muttered the words because he either didn’t know them, or he simply felt like singing was not something he excelled in. He didn’t even know how to read music, and here this girl was indicating for him to stand by her.

She chuckled. “You really stepped into it, buddy.” She pointed to her sheet music, whispering. “Do you know how to read music?”

He bent forward to whisper back, “Nope.”

She had to hold back a laugh. “Well, stay next to me and try to follow my lead. If you have any talent, this won’t be hard. Sing the words as best you can.”

He gulped and said, “yes ma’am” and then realized his mistake and she cackled. She looked up at him, amused.

“You’re funny.” And then she squared her shoulders. The choir director began to make her flourishes with her hands (Sylvain did not know what to call it but he assumed it was to keep them in tempo? On beat? Did hymns have a beat? He literally did not know) and then the girl apparently named Wren began her solo.

Sylvain had heard many girls sing before. He knew Dorothea had an incredible voice; it only made sense because she was a former songstress. In the same way, so did Manuela. Annette enjoyed singing and she was good at it too. But this… Wren’s voice was pure, innocent, angelic. Dorothea and Manuela sang to perform; Wren was singing her actual praises.

Well, he said he’d do the same.

The choir director made a motion to indicate the others to start their harmonies and Sylvain was instantly lost. He looked over Wren’s shoulder to read the lyrics and tried to listen for her voice to match the notes, but he had to admit he was a little tone deaf. She either didn’t notice, or was nonplussed by it.

It was the most excruciating hour of Sylvain’s life.

The other student singers dispersed once the director dismissed them, some murmuring, others saying their goodbyes. Sylvain was sure he heard something like ‘well I guess his only talent really is philandering’ and Sylvain actually felt hurt by that statement. He knew he had other qualities, but no one ever saw them. Perhaps it was because no one wanted to see them, or that he didn’t exactly show them off. Because, in the end, they’d just say it was because he had a Crest, so why would he bother to try?

The director thanked Wren and gave a tight-lipped smile to Sylvain. “Thanks for joining us this evening,” she said politely, but the look in her eyes screamed ‘please do not come back.’

People were never direct with their emotions in his experience, especially in regards to him. Perhaps it was because he was a known liar, so why would anyone bother telling him the truth? He’d just twist it for his own use. He hated that, and yet, he was the one that created it. But no matter. He would simply walk away and never return to this cathedral...until next church service, because it was mandatory.

(Maybe he’d try and sneak away despite knowing Seteth would give him detention for a millennium and he couldn’t imagine Lady Rhea’s wrath.)

He turned, attempting to get out of there as quickly as possible, but Wren caught up to him. He looked down at her, analyzing the look on her face. She still looked amused, but not spiteful. She didn’t have that look in her eye that said ‘can’t wait to make fun of this guy.’ It was more like ‘that was embarrassing but at least he tried.’

He sighed as they walked along the bridge. “So how bad was I?” Maybe she’d be honest.

She was. “It was god-awful. You said you’d sing praises to the goddess, but that was not what I heard tonight.” She looked thoughtful. “You were really flat. But we could use more baritones, and I’d willingly help you...”

“Ha...ha...ha...” was his only response.

She laughed. “Well, it was a nice attempt. I hope when you sing your praises to me, it’ll be much better.”

Oh? She wanted him to?

“Oh baby, trust me, while the goddess may not inspire much song in me, I could sing a whole opera for you!” He gestured dramatically to the sky. “You are my muse.”

She had to stop because she was laughing so hard she almost fell. “Oh dear goddess, you cannot be serious.”

He turned around, seeing her giggling madly. “I am totally serious.”

“Sure you are,” she said in a way that meant she did not believe him. “Hmm, you know, we should eat dinner together. I’d like to hear more about this opera you’d sing for me. And also, don’t call me baby.”

There was one time Dorothea offered to have dinner with him but it was to get to him and his Crest, or so he thought. He didn’t know what to make of Dorothea. She was like a female version of him. However, not many other girls, if any at all, asked him out. He was intrigued by her boldness.

“My favorite activity! Chatting over dinner with a lovely lady? It’s all I live for.” He extended his elbow. “Shall we?”

She stared for a moment. “Hmm, I don’t want to be some pretty thing hanging off your arm so how about we proceed as equals? Maybe I’ll let you play footsie when we sit down to eat.” She winked at him.

What. Is. Going. On.

He found he couldn’t disagree. “Into feet are we? Well, I’m versatile.”

She gagged. “Absolutely not. I was joking.”

He knew she was but he wanted to do anything to get under her skin. She was so unflappable. Even Ingrid would get flustered at such a comment.

They approached the dining hall but their meandering meant waiting in a longer line. He saw the annoyed look on her face, but she didn’t say anything.

They stayed silent a moment, Sylvain trying to find something witty to say, and she trying to start a conversation that wasn’t drowning in innuendo. The girl at practice told her the guy she brought with her was Sylvain Jose Gautier, a name she only knew because of the disgusting rumors. She had said that he was a known skirt-chaser, and had left a girl so brokenhearted she actually dropped out of Garreg Mach. Wren could not imagine someone being so callous as to ruin another student’s education. That rumor was preposterous. They all were, but they were all similar, so there had to be some truth. And then the girl had said:

“He’s only here because he wants to sleep with you.” And that made Wren laugh. A guy so horny he’s willing to humiliate himself to win her over? She absolutely had to see this.

She figured introductions were the best way to go. She turned to him, extending her hand. “Let me properly introduce myself. My name is Wren Elora Aleo.”

He took her hand and kissed it as only a debonair man such as himself would do. She held back the urge to roll her eyes. Through hooded lids, and that smarmy smirk, he said, “And I am Sylvain Jose Gautier. A pleasure, Wren.”

“Hmm, I figured as much. You’re a bit infamous at this school.”

He straightened. “Yeah? And what have you heard about me?”

His eyes briefly changed she saw. Very minute, but for a moment he looked like he was calculating her words, analyzing her behavior. She didn’t know why he would do that, so she decided she’d just be honest.

“Well, that girl in the choir, Reyna is her name, said you were quite the skirt-chaser and may have spewed some rumor about you that can’t possibly be true.” She stared at him, waiting to see something in his face change.

He stayed mostly stoic, or at least he was feigning it. “I know about the rumors. What she said is probably something I’ve already heard.”

“Hmm, well, I don’t care about the rumors. I think you’re hilarious and that the rumors are mostly exaggerated and really shouldn’t be paid any mind.” She shrugged. “That’s how I see it anyway. I don’t care much for catty people or bullies.”

This was definitely a girl who did not frequently talk to any of the students, or at least, any of the students who claimed to know him. Whoever she hung out with probably had no bad opinions of him, simply because those bad opinions didn’t exist. He was inconsequential to these people.

“Well, that wasn’t what I expected,” he chuckled, trying to keep the tone light. If anything, he may have been a little disturbed, but also intrigued.

“Nothing about me is expected. I hate living by other people’s rules and I don’t let others’ judgment get to me.”

She was very to-the-point and absolutely did not spout any bullshit. She was legit. “I...Well, color me impressed.”

She stared at him for a moment, but softened her gaze. “Sorry, I probably came off a bit abrasive.”

She did, but it didn’t offend Sylvain. If anything, he actually was impressed. And he covered his impressed heart with charismatic charm.

“No, don’t apologize. I could never be mad at a cute girl like you.”

Charismatic charm that did not affect her. “You really are a dork, and you’re cheesy too.” But her face broke into a smile. “Whatever you’re trying to do, please understand I am not interested. It’s not a priority right now.”

He feigned hurt, clutching his heart as if she wounded him. “You would deny my affections?”

She shook her head in amazement at his commitment to this womanizing playboy shtick. “I know you don’t actually mean any of that, but go off I guess.”

And then Sylvain dropped his arms, realizing she did see right through him. She held no malice; there was no manipulation tactics. She was honest and she had a good heart. This was a girl that, whatever her status, really didn’t care about his status and probably not even his Crest. She hadn’t mentioned any of that once.

He...really appreciated that.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right,” he said mysteriously, knowing he was affecting his charm and suggestive ways again, but it was so ingrained it was hard to be actually honest.

She furrowed her brows. “So how much of those rumors are true? They all seem too preposterous in my opinion, and I can’t imagine anyone could actually be capable of the feats you apparently have accomplished.” She said it with a smirk, and he saw the curiosity simply for the curiosity. She did not seem to hold an ulterior motive.

He decided he could be a little honest.

“Well, the nastier ones are not really true… But you know, girls are too pretty for a guy like me to refuse...” He shrugged it off as if this wasn’t important, but Wren thought it was. She was going to retort but he cut her off. “And what about you? You enjoy interrogating guys, figuring them out so you can best see how to use them?”

She was taken aback. “Wow, you really assumed the worst of me.” She raised her eyebrows, the expression on her face that of incredulity. “You’re just a guy I’m talking to in this present moment, Sylvain. I’m not going to use you, whatever that means.” She wanted to say ‘you were the one that followed me anyway and I just let you’ but she didn’t want to be that argumentative yet. She was actually wondering what he meant by use.

He tried to play it off like he had the upper hand, but she knew he didn’t because there was nothing to get the upper hand of. “Every girl wants to use a guy like me. You all think I’m hot, and I’m rich, and I have this impressive Crest.” She saw how he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You get in my bed, thinking that if you lay with me, you’ll win me over, but you won’t. I’m not a prize and I don’t want to be seen as one.”

That last sentence alone held a double meaning, she knew, but she was so shocked he had such an awful perception of women that she started giggling. “You cannot be serious.” But as she calmed down, she saw his face hadn’t changed. He looked mad.

“That’s how they’ve all been. What makes you different?”

She pondered that a moment. How was she different?

“Well, for starters, I didn’t fall over myself when you approached me. If anything, I was a little exasperated. It was a cute attempt, but I saw you a mile away.” She looked away. “It’s not like you’re not attractive. A part of me was flattered, but flattery isn’t the same as being genuine.” She looked back at him, and the look in her eye was a bit sad. “I just figured you had to have been desperate to seek me out,” and then she smirked, “and I wanted to see how far you’d go to impress me. You really...did that.”

His face went red. “Look, I’ve done many stupid things to get to a girl. That wasn’t even my best attempt.”

“I don’t know; knowing you can’t sing for shit but going through with it anyway? All so you can get me out of my clothes? I’d say that’s a damn good attempt. I’m honored.” But her tone wasn’t that of wanting something of him. She seemed genuinely amused and this was a mere debate, not a psychoanalysis of why the other was so distrustful.

He sighed. “Okay, it was definitely my best stupid attempt. Maybe I’ll try again.”

“On me, or…?”

His look changed back to that seductive glimmer. “Would you like me to?”

She thought she said ‘no I was just clarifying’ but it came out as, “I’m curious to see what you’ve got...” and the way she trailed off like she was playing his game… She wanted to be mortified but the way his smirk grew wider, into an actual smile, made her heart skip a beat.

Oh shit this cannot be happening.

“Hmm, perhaps this can go somewhere...” he said as if this was a chess match. Maybe it was.

And her brain did not stop her from saying, “You can go anywhere you’d like with me. I’m always up for an adventure.”

Oh did those words go straight to his groin. Sylvain may have thought women were out to use him, but he couldn’t deny he enjoyed sex. And he really wanted to have sex with this girl right now.

“Perhaps we should skip dinner then.” And the look in his eyes was so clouded with lust that she almost agreed, but knew better than that.

The people in front of them finally turned around. “Can you please keep it civil? We’re all literally waiting to eat.”

It broke the fog in her mind that his seductive words caused and she simply turned to them and said, “Mind your fuckin’ business.”

They were about to respond but she cracked her knuckles loudly and the look of fright was so bright within their eyes that Sylvain thought they would faint. The students left immediately.

“Oh look, we’re one step closer to dinner,” and she made an exaggerated step forward.

Sylvain didn’t remember ever having laughed so hard in his life. He also made an exaggerated step and she laughed at his attempt. They looked at each other fondly and for once, Sylvain felt like...he was being seen for him.

He didn’t want to stare too long or maybe she’d think he was trying to seduce her again. He wouldn’t mind trying to do that, but something changed and he suddenly decided he’d rather talk to her more before getting physical. “So what is for dinner tonight?” He tried to look over the students to see the menu and special for tonight, but he had to admit his vision had gotten slightly worse. He didn’t want to admit that.

Wren saw how he squinted and knew immediately. She didn’t say anything though. She peered her head over as well and read off the special for that night. “Looks like it’s different fish dishes. Hmm, I haven’t had the super-spicy fish dango yet...”

“Oh! It’s delicious!” Sylvain admitted. “It’s so fluffy in your mouth and flavorful...” He noticed she was staring at him. “What?”

“You’re...cute. I like seeing you excited about food. Haha, it makes you seem...” Less of an ass, but that’s everyone else’s opinion. I think you’re sweet.

“Seem…?” Sylvain prodded her. “You can’t leave me hanging like that.”

She didn’t want to be mushy. They just got to know each other. They just met earlier that evening. But she couldn’t help but say, “Sweet, I guess. Like you… I don’t know, like you’re just another student who needs to eat, and not some heart-stealing...harlot?” It was weak and she knew it. “I don’t know. It just made me...” Warm and fuzzy. It made me like you more. “Ah, it was just funny I guess.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of that. She suddenly seemed shy. He wanted to point it out, but he knew better than anyone that she was privy to her own secrets. He wouldn’t probe for more.

“Hah, I guess it was.”

It was a bit awkward as they finally made it to the front. Sylvain did grab the fish dango and so did Wren. He led her to a table that was secluded. It seemed a lot of students had either already eaten or weren’t into the fish dishes because the dining hall seemed barren.

Sylvain did note that his fellow Blue Lions Dimitri, Felix, Ingrid, Dedue, Ashe, Annette, and Mercedes were sitting closer to one of the exits, brightly lit by the open door, and he purposely chose a darker corner, where only the candlelight and oil lamps were the illumination.

He saw how Felix and Ingrid watched him like hawks, how Dimitri looked curious and maybe a bit ashamed. The others didn’t pay him much mind, but he suddenly felt very judged and it left him feeling empty.

Well, nothing better to fill you up than some of your favorite food and good conversation.

He ate slowly, wanting to savor it. Lately there had been a lot of dishes he wasn’t totally into so it was nice to eat something he loved. He watched Wren’s face as she ate. She looked like she was trying to figure it out.

“You don’t like it?” Sylvain asked. She shook her head.

“No, it’s good… But it definitely isn’t super-spicy.”

He was shocked to hear that. “What? How?! I feel like my mouth is almost on fire!”

“Do you...like that?” Wren asked, confused.

“Well, yeah, the flavor is great and the heat makes it better! It definitely warms me up on a cold Faerghus night.”

“But… We’re not in Faerghus. We’re in the middle of the continent so the weather is milder...” and then he saw realization hit her eyes. “You’re from Faerghus! Duh! You wouldn’t know spicy food if it hit you!”

He wanted to be offended, but he took it in stride. “What does my being from Faerghus have to do with anything?”

She snorted. “Isn’t it the stereotype of Faerghus people that they think flour is spicy?”

Sylvain had to choke back a laugh. He heard that once.

“Ah, flour is definitely not spicy.” He shook his head in good humor. “This is pretty hot though.”

“Hah! You wouldn’t last in Annevar. It’s basically what some would call Deep South Adrestia.” She took a bite of food. “Hmm, this really could be dipped in hot sauce, covered in pepper flakes, and be doused in spice rub, and it still wouldn’t be spicy.” She laughed. “Still, you were right. It is quite fluffy and it has good flavor. But they definitely shouldn’t call it Super-Spicy Fish Dango.”

“Hey, don’t disrespect one of my favorite dishes! I’m sorry you have the tastebuds of the actual eternal flames,” he jested.

She nearly choked on her food just from laughing. She coughed, drank some water to wash it down, and swallowed. “Well, at least I know hot when I taste it.”

Sylvain so desperately wanted to make a comment about her tasting him, but found that even he thought it was in poor taste so he kept it to himself. He decided he’d change the subject.

“So… Annevar? Can’t say I know much about it.”

She nodded. “We’re way down south of Enbarr, nearly to the coast. We’re close enough that we often see Brigidian immigrants around, which is cool. I used to know a few who taught me some...colorful phrases.” She chuckled. “The food is very different from the monastery’s, and I wish they had some. I really miss deep fried chicken and the dozens of ways we can cook potatoes.”

“That...actually sounds amazing.” Sylvain wondered what that sort of food would taste like. It was so different from his homeland’s.

“It is! If you ever find yourself down there, definitely find some time to try it! My mother used to really know how to cook it.” He saw a glint in her eye. “Ah, my mother… Well, it doesn’t matter I guess. I at least know how to make it, but I’m not very good.”

He tilted his head. “Your mother taught you how to cook?” Was she a commoner? He hadn’t really thought about it until that comment.

“Uh, no, I’m from a minor noble family. We’re a little unconventional. I mean, my family is still pretty stuffy about things, but my mom did enjoy cooking for a time and was wonderful at it.”

“Oh. So what does your family do?”

She shrugged. “Big on imports and exports since we’re close to the coast. So I guess it makes sense we’d be influenced by other things.”

Sylvain wondered if her parents were as miserable as his own. “So what do they think about Crests?”

She didn’t like how he said that and knew there was something laced between his words, but she wasn’t sure what. “Well, they definitely care about them. It’s a bit annoying honestly.”

Not something he expected. Everyone seemed gaga for Crests. It was interesting. Wren wasn’t. Neither was Sylvain.

“How so?”

She looked a bit sheepish. “Um, you might think differently of me if I tell you.”

He smirked, challenging her. “I doubt that.”

She sighed. “I have a minor Crest, the Crest of Macuil. And since I’m the firstborn, that automatically made me the perfect heir. No matter what child that would be born after me, the odds of me being usurped were incredibly low.”

Sylvain...did not like hearing this. It was all too intimately familiar.

“Go on.”

She saw how his eyes darkened. “You’re already thinking badly of me.”

“No, I want to hear the rest.” His eyes didn’t change but Wren figured she could reveal more.

“When I was 10, my sister was born. It’s a bit unusual, considering my parents...don’t even like each other much. They sleep in separate rooms. But I suppose they had one last night of passion because I ended up with a baby sister ten years my junior.”

“Okay so…?”

Wren sighed. “She was born with the same Crest as me...but major.”

Oh. That actually sucked.

“So because of her Crest being more powerful than yours, she was made the new heir.”

She noted he didn’t say it like a question. Sylvain seemed too knowledgeable on this sort of thing.

“Yeah...” She looked at her nearly finished food. He spoke again.

“How do you feel about that?”

In truth, Wren had many feelings about it, and to her, none of them were good feelings. The only thing that was good was that she was free from a responsibility she didn’t really want to begin with.

Sylvain didn’t like her silence, but he hoped it was because she was formulating her words. When she did speak, he found he was right.

“I’m very conflicted. I don’t blame her, because she didn’t ask to be born, wasn’t even supposed to be born given how much older my parents were, but her birth changed my parents. I was always...loved, you know? I was the only kid for so long, so when a new one comes along and I’m just sort of thrown to the side… It really hurt.”

Sylvain started to feel chills. His next question could determine how he would feel about her for the rest of his life. “So what did you do?”

She looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”

“What did you do with the hurt?”

This seemed important to Sylvain, and she knew she shouldn’t lie. Why should she? It wasn’t like they were best friends. She didn’t have anything to lose from him because so far, other than a few laughs, she hadn’t gained much.

But they could gain more and frankly she wanted to see where this new kinship would go.

“I’ll be honest with you, Sylvain. I was very bitter. Whenever my parents would fuss over my sister, I was incredibly jealous. It was very foreign to me, because I was never jealous before. I never had a reason to be. It felt like the rug was ripped from beneath my feet and all I could do was fall and try to get back up.” She bit her lip, but she continued. “I said mean things to my sister sometimes. I think I might have thrown something at her and left a scar, which was sick and completely childish of me. And I was punished for it. I hurled insults at my parents and they in turn just kept me locked in my room and sent me to school, where I would act out when previously I was a perfect student. I cried a lot. I… I almost…” She shuddered, clutching her wrists. “I was in a dark place. Eventually I just stopped talking to my family because no matter how hurt I was, no matter how badly I cried out for attention, they just ignored me, or treated me cruelly. So I gave up.” She hit her forehead to the table, moving her plate away. Sylvain heard her muffled voice say, “I definitely ran away a few times.”

He wasn’t surprised she had been cruel to her younger sister. It was so easy for older siblings to; they were stronger, smarter, and when they felt threatened by the younger sibling, they would do anything to hurt them. Wren’s reaction...was not that much different from his own brother, Miklan’s.

The difference was...she gave up.

“So you stopped hurting your sister?” He asked.

She looked up at him and he saw the redness in her eyes. “It was when we were very young. Around the time I was 14, I realized I was just being cruel and petty and my sister actually liked me despite what I had done so I...forgave her, even when she didn’t do anything wrong, and let her hang around. She’s not my favorite person, but...she’s my little sister. She doesn’t deserve my hate when it’s not even her fault for what happened to me.” She gripped her arms tightly. “It’s the fucking Crests.”

Sylvain absolutely agreed. “Yeah, they fucking suck, don’t they?”

She nodded. “Anyway, eventually I realized I didn’t care I was disinherited. It meant I was free, so I took advantage of that. Sure, my parents are fools for giving up an heir that had followed their lessons perfectly and focus on a small child when they aren’t spring chickens… Like, I feel like they stabbed themselves in the foot, but it’s not my problem anymore. So when I was 15, and made friends with other kids that also hated Crests, we made a pact and decided we’d just do what we want. So...” She had a far off look in her eyes. “We sneaked out. Went to places noble kids shouldn’t have. Ate food, drank, danced with strangers. Made out with strangers,” and he saw her blush at that. “I discovered I really liked singing commoner songs because they have more soul than the hymns and classical stuff I was forced to learn. I was taught piano, classically. I learned how to sing. But when I went to those dance halls, those jazz clubs so popular in the poorer areas of my town… The music there was different and I was moved. So sometimes I sang for the band that played and they loved me. They taught me so many songs. I danced so much. I was...so happy.”

She suddenly looked incredibly sad. “This went on for two and a half years. My parents eventually called me out and I couldn’t deny it. One of the servants snitched on me, even though I would sneak in the food and alcohol they wanted.”

“How did you…?”

“I have my ways,” she said with a wink. “But anyway, my parents didn’t like how my grades only seemed to keep falling, how I didn’t really interact with them anymore, and they said I needed to get it together so I wouldn’t be a wreck for whatever husband they found for me.” She grimaced. “I hated that and told them as much. They didn’t like my bad attitude. So they told me that I needed more discipline, I needed to respect the goddess more, and I needed to start seeking out a fiance.” She gagged. “And they sent me here.”

Sylvain was speechless. Her circumstances were almost the complete opposite of his, and yet there was a convergence there: the hatred of Crests.

“I’m a little different. I’m the younger sibling with a minor Crest, and my brother didn’t have one at all. My parents spoiled me, probably like yours spoiled your sister, but they let me get away with so much stuff they shouldn’t have. That’s probably frustrating for you to hear.”

“It is, but I know it’s not your fault. Sucks for your brother though.”

“He’s trash. Don’t feel bad for him. He did awful things to me.” Her face froze. “Yeah, you did bad things to your sister, but at least you tried to bond with her. Miklan threw me to the dirt, sometimes literally, and never said anything nice to me. He blamed me for my parents’ treatment and my Crest. I didn’t ask for any of that.”

“None of us did,” Wren agreed. “I’m sorry I offended you.”

“That wasn’t your intention and you had no way of knowing anyway. Don’t feel bad. You’re not my brother and I’m not your sister.” He smiled softly. “Thanks for being honest.”

“Thanks for listening. And not hating me.”

He chuckled. “I can’t hate a pretty girl like you.”

She rolled her eyes. Back to this are we…

Meanwhile, Sylvain’s friends were still staring, wondering what the two were talking about.

Ingrid spoke up. “I saw Sylvain with at least seven girls today. At a time. And now there’s just one...”

“Hmph, she’s probably his next victim,” Felix said dryly. “Gah, he needs to get over this...”

Dimitri sighed. “I agree. Sylvain is so much better than what he chooses to be and yet...”

Annette kept observing Sylvain and his newest girlfriend but Mercedes sighed dreamily. “He looks so...interested though.”

“What do you mean?” Annette asked, turning to her.

“Sylvain is always chatting up a girl, trying to impress her with silly lines, but he’s let her do most of the talking. He looks so curious about her. It’s sweet.”

Dedue agreed. “Yes, he hasn’t tried to make a move, and it seems whenever he says something he is prone to say, the look on her face changes, like she’s annoyed. Whoever she is, she doesn’t care for the lies he says. It seems she’s trying to get him to expose himself.”

“I agree!” piped up Ashe. “They seem very engrossed in their conversation and it looks like it’s not him leading it.”

And then they saw Wren hit her forehead to the table. Felix chuckled. “Oh this is interesting.”

They kept watching, mumbling their speculations. Whatever had made Wren hide her face seemed to pass and they continued their conversation blithely.

Ingrid hummed. “This is...so bizarre. She doesn’t look like one of his normal girls. She’s not...”

“Pulling her clothes off because the great Sylvain Jose Gautier is giving her attention? Yeah, you’re right.” Felix rolled his eyes. “She looks like she doesn’t take his bullshit. I’m surprised Sylvain hasn’t given up by now. If he sees he can’t get into her bed easily, he moves on to the next idiot.”

“You should like that then. If she’s holding his attention and preventing him from hurting some other girl...”

Felix scoffed. “She’ll be like the rest. She’ll wake up alone, just the barest scent of his cologne in the air, and she’ll cry. That’s how it always ends.”

As Sylvain’s friends bickered about who this new girl was to Sylvain, the twosome switched the subject to things more palatable. He asked her about her hobbies.

“I, uh, well, you know I like to sing.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, egging her on.

“I draw! I keep a sketchbook on me. I actually really like art and I sometimes paint with Ignatz. He’s a really nice guy, if a bit skittish.”

Sylvain decided he’d ignore that she hung out with other guys, which shouldn’t have bothered him but it did. “I like art actually. Do you have the sketchbook now?”

“I do!” She pulled it out of her bag. “It’s just sketches, little ideas I have, maybe something interesting I’ve seen and want to recreate. It’s mostly practice. I keep my finished works in my room.”

She handed the book to Sylvain and he flipped through it. He wasn’t sure if he’d be impressed, but then… He was.

Her work was detailed and true to form. It had whimsy, was pleasing to the eye, and each small sketch seemed to tell its own story, or convey its own emotion. It wasn’t fine art by any means, but definitely the musings of a student artist.

“These are really nice.” He admitted. He flipped a page and saw what looked like a man swinging a sword. It looked vaguely like Felix. “This guy here looks like my friend Felix.”

She looked at the figure he was talking about. “Oh! I think it is actually. I was at the training grounds one day for weapon maintenance and saw him train. He’s really impressive and this particular pose was very...inspirational? I don’t know, it looked neat and I tried to recreate it.”

“Hah, I think he’d like to know that. Have you ever spoken to him?”

She shook her head. “Oh no, that was one of the only times I was ever even near him. He’s very standoffish and I don’t enjoy approaching people who look like they’d bite me just for saying hi.”

Sylvain guffawed. “That is totally Felix.” He shut the sketchbook and handed it back to her. “You said you have finished works?”

“Yep! They’re in my room.” She realized what he was after and her immediate thought was ‘why not’ so she knew what he wanted to ask. She beat him to it.

“You know… If you want, I can show them to you.” She didn’t want to seem eager, because really she wasn’t eager for that, but she had few friends she’d ever shown her artwork to. Ignatz saw them but he was a fellow artist and they helped each other improve. Her friends back home loved her work, but they weren’t here so it wasn’t like she could show them. Sylvain at least seemed interested in the art, invitation to her room notwithstanding.

He perked up at that invitation. “Oh I’d love nothing more than to be in your room.”

She grimaced. “I’m just showing you art, Sylvain.”

He flicked a piece of hair from his face. “Oh trust me, you’ll show me more than that.”

He was incorrigible but for whatever reason, instead of being annoyed, she found it hilarious. She didn’t believe him for a second. She knew he only wanted to bed her but denying him was its own pleasure and the fact he seemed even more persistent? She loved it. He was such an interesting person and she found him charming when he wasn’t trying to actually be charming. There was a darkness there that he exposed just a little, and instead of being repulsed, she wanted to jump into it. He held darkness in his heart, just as she did, and for the first time she felt like maybe there was someone who understood that darkness.

“Hmm, well, we’ll see,” she said noncommittally. She got up. “Let’s take our dishes back and then I’ll show you.”

“Of course!” He grabbed her plate from her. “Allow me.”

She hated the whole chivalry thing. It was more common in Faerghus she knew, but men everywhere seemed to feel the need to help a woman when she didn’t really need help. It felt patronizing sometimes, even if he meant it to be kind and thoughtful.

But this was Sylvain, the guy surrounded by auspicious rumors, and she knew he meant none of those things.

She was just another conquest to him, but she would not allow herself to be that conquest. She found him funny, she liked talking to him, but she didn’t trust him. Not completely. But there was something there and she wanted to see what it was.

Dishes put away, she led him out of the dining hall.

Immediately upon seeing this, Felix and Ingrid threw Ashe towards the exit so he could see where they were going and report back. Ashe was small and sneaky, having been a former thief, and his keen eye saw Sylvain being led to her room. It was by the greenhouse and without hesitation this girl unlocked her door and led Sylvain inside. Ashe wasn’t surprised Sylvain seemed to have gotten his way, but the way it went…

It didn’t feel the same. There was something there Ashe couldn’t place.

He went back to his friends and told them. Naturally, Ingrid, Felix, and Dimitri rolled their eyes. Dedue looked disappointed, as did Annette. Mercedes looked thoughtful.

“She did show him a book. Even if his intention is to get in her room for one thing, she didn’t seem...bothered. She seemed more interested in showing him whatever it was.”

“It’s Sylvain. He feigns interest all the time just to get laid. He doesn’t care about her,” Ingrid insisted. “Goddess, this is another mess I’m going to have to clean.”

“You could just ignore him like I do,” Felix suggested. “He’s not going to change. Either call him out and tell him he’s a fool, or leave him be.”

“I still believe we can do this diplomatically. Sylvain is the heir to his territory. He should respect that,” Dimitri stated.

Felix scoffed. “Yeah, as if a boar can be diplomatic.” He shoved off his seat. “Whatever, I’m going to train.”

“Felix, we just ate,” Ingrid called after him.

Felix didn’t turn around to say anything. He made a gesture as if saluting them and kept walking.

Dimitri looked after the exit of the dining hall, hoping Sylvain wasn’t making a fool of himself.

And of course, Sylvain had every intention of making a fool of himself. Wren did indeed show him her art. Yes, it really was spectacular. He was beyond impressed. She was very skilled and he said as much.

“Your use of color is amazing and I like the composition. It’s...really nice,” he said of one piece. She showed him another. It was a bit more melancholic, more subdued, but still moving.

“This one has a lot of emotion behind it, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah… I don’t always like talking about the stories behind my drawings. I hope you understand.”

“I get it. We already had a hard discussion. No reason to continue down that alley.” He turned to her. “Anything else you wish to show me?”

She knew what he meant. “I’m sure you already know what I look like under these clothes. I’m not anything you haven’t seen before.”

“Oh but I’ve never seen you. What if you have a beauty mark here,” a finger to her collarbone hidden by her shirt, “or maybe here,” his finger trailed down her abdomen, and suddenly his other arm was around her waist.

She was flush against him, her hands pressing at his chest. “Sylvain, we just met. I’m sorry, but I’m not like that.”

He let her go and sat on her bed. He patted the spot next to him. “Tell me what you are like.”

What did he mean by that? She wasn’t sure.

She sat next to him anyway and thought for a moment.

“I...don’t know. I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“I know a bit of your past, right? And I remember you mentioning you made out with strangers.” She blushed again. “How about you tell me what you liked about that? What you fantasize about?”

That was deeply personal. “I’m sure you’d rather not hear about some poor girl’s fantasies.”

“But I do!” and goddess his tone was so slick with honey, so obviously fake. “How else can I make them come true?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. Her closest friends back home didn’t even know what she was into. She barely knew. She read...smutty novels, and the things she seemed to like, or at least were curious about, were things she drew in a secret sketchbook no one knew about. If anyone found out she drew porn, she’d be mortified. She’d throw herself off the tallest tower of this monastery.

“I...am not sure you could make them come true.” Because I don’t even know what I want.

“Try me,” he said, using a different approach.

She sighed. “I… I don’t have much experience. You’ve picked up on that.”

“How far did you get with those strangers?”

“We made out. When they got too handsy, I pushed them away because… I don’t know, I didn’t want to end up being some noble girl who threw her life away for a single night of passion that maybe wouldn’t have been that great anyway. Like. Imagine having sex, and it sucks, and you end up pregnant.” She shuddered. “I know...there are ways to terminate that… But I don’t want to be in that position ever.”

He didn’t expect it to go that way. “Oh. That… Well, I’ve never thought of that.”

“You wouldn’t because you can’t get pregnant.”

He looked to his feet, realizing that maybe he was a fool. “I… Well, I use protection and I have yet to be a baby daddy.”

“Well, maybe you’re not a total idiot,” she laughed. “I imagine not many guys have the mental capacity to think of safety measures when all they want is for their dick to get wet.”

“HAH! And you are right! But I’m not an idiot. Well, sometimes I’m not. I’m pretty smart in the ways of love...” he intimated, stroking a hand down her thigh.

She picked it off and placed it back in his lap. “You’re probably smart in the ways of making love, but as for actual, true love… Well, maybe you’ll learn it one day...”

He leaned back on his hands, looking her over. “Yeah, maybe I will.” He turned fully to her. “Come on, you’re leaving me hanging. What are your fantasies? I promise I won’t judge.”

She was sure he wouldn’t since he seemed so intent on sleeping with her, but it was still...embarrassing.

“As I’ve said, I have little experience, so the things I imagine…mostly come from...romance novels...”

Sylvain put two and two together. “You read smut?”

She blushed, looking away. “Yeah… Sometimes the library is sent new books and the librarian Tomas, for whatever reason, doesn’t mind indulging my habit. I think he hates how Seteth sniffs them out and throws them to the fire, so maybe in a sense I’m preserving literature, even if it is literally porn.”

Sylvain looked impressed. “Do you have these novels here?”

“They’re under my bed. As well as… Something else.”

Oh this was going to be good.

“What is it?”

She stared at her feet, willing the horror to go away. “So… I read these books, and I fantasize, and… I want to actually see it, so… I might...draw out some of the more interesting positions.”

She didn’t…

“You draw porn?!” Sylvain yelled.

“For fuck’s sake Sylvain, do not yell that!” She clamped a hand over his mouth. Oh he liked it when she was aggressive. She was touching him willingly and he didn’t want her to pull away. Granted, he was horny, and clearly this discussion was getting to her too. Maybe…

“Can I see?” he asked when she took her hand away.

“NO.” And she looked adamant about it, but he persisted.

“Come on! You can’t just tell me the best thing I’ve heard all day and not let me in! Please I promise I won’t tell anyone! I want this knowledge for myself. Maybe it’ll give me ideas for you...”

Goddess she hated how he went from puppy dog eyes to that overused come hither look. Yet she was intrigued. She really never showed anyone this, for obvious reasons, so she was shy, but also hoping maybe someone could validate her. As if to say ‘so this is how this position is supposed to be’ or ‘this body part can go there.’

She decided she’d do it.

“Fine.” She got off the bed and knelt, grabbing whatever was under there. Sylvain heard some ruffling of pages and knew she was digging past books to find this forbidden sketchbook.

She pulled it out. It was very nondescript, innocent even. She sat next to him and handed it to him. “Just look.” She turned her head away.

In his lap was going to be something either entirely inaccurate or god tier amorous. His horny teenage heart could almost not bear it.

He opened the book and was shocked by what he saw.

Cunnilingus. Fellatio. Missionary, girl on top, creampies, handjobs… A lot of mostly innocuous positions, if sex could be innocuous, but it certainly wasn’t anything too filthy. Pretty standard fair, but her rendering of the bodies was incredible and her imagination was great. This really turned him on.

But he noticed that while the women and their genitalia looked very accurate, the penises not so much. They weren’t bad, far from it, but it was clear that…

“You’ve never seen a penis before, have you?”

He looked at her and her face was as red as the rare lilies the greenhouse produced. She was gripping the hem of her skirt tightly.

“Is it that bad?” she asked in a small voice.

“No! Far from it! This is actually really good! The only thing I really notice that I can critique on is you’ve just never seen like an actual human penis before.”

She was horrified by this topic of conversation.

“You are right. I have not.” She swallowed thickly, her throat suddenly very dry. “It’s embarrassing.”

Sylvain shook his head. “Hey, no one is born knowing what a penis looks like unless they actually have a penis. It’s not embarrassing at all. Don’t feel bad.”

He finally saw her exhale. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Glad to know she was relaxed, he could continue with his flirting. “And listen, if you ever want to know what a penis looks like, well, I kinda have a prize right here.”

She stared at him, shocked. “I…! Oh my goddess Sylvain, why are you teasing me like this?!”

He laughed although he realized too late it was probably a little patronizing. “I’m not teasing you. I’m being serious.”

“You just want me to sleep with you. I can see it in your face and body language.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, I really want to. That’s not a lie. But you’re also a promising artist and if I can make you into the best porn artist in the world, I will happily offer my services to you. Feel free to ask me to pose nude anytime!”

Her eyes could not have been any wider. “That’s so…!”

“Inappropriate? Not at all! Nude models aren’t uncommon in the art world. How else would one learn anatomy?”

She considered his words. “You’re not wrong… It’s just… If people found out I, a woman, started drawing nude men, they’d think...”

“I thought you said you didn’t care what people thought of you.” Sylvain remembered her words from earlier.

“I was talking about personal life choices. This is very different.”

“Not really. You like breaking from conventions right? You’re just embarrassed because this is something very new to you. You’ve never seen a naked man before! No one blames you for that. But you’ve got to own it if you want to seriously draw good porn. And this is already good, but I believe you can push it further.”

He could see how flustered she was, how her palms were sweating. “You’re right. I’m just...embarrassed.”

“Look, if you ever want to try any of these positions some time, you know where to find me.”

She looked like she was about to throw a pillow at him, which wouldn’t have been the worst thing thrown at him. That time with a pitchfork was pretty terrible. “I? Don’t? I don’t even know where your dorm is.”

“Second floor. Room 269.”

“I… You’re joking.”

“Oh you get that reference? No, I’m not. I was howling at my room placement. Ingrid and Felix didn’t get it at first so I had to explain it to them.”

“That is hilarious. Oh fuck, that’s...” and she burst into giggles. “What a twist of fate!”

“Right? Pretty great. Guess the goddess knows me pretty well.” He looked at her fondly. “I mean it though.”

“Well, if I ever get curious, I know where you sleep.”

“Hey, now that sounds creepy.”

“Because following me to choir practice wasn’t.”

He shrugged. “Maybe that was a little too far.”

Looking at him, she realized it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Sylvain was...fascinating. And yes, he was handsome, so she knew he got away with what he did because who really could refuse that smile? He was clearly intelligent, a bit too shrewd and clearly he liked to manipulate people. But there was something about him that was earnest. He was honest, but not in a way others could see.

She saw his pain, knew it well, and for some reason, she wanted to ease it. No one else seemed to care. No one else seemed willing. But Wren was, and if dealing with his constant innuendos and attempts at sleeping with her was her penance, she’d gladly bear it if she could see his real smile.

“Hmm, maybe going too far was what I needed,” she murmured.

“Come again?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing. Um,” she pulled out a pocket watch she kept in her jacket pocket. “It’s getting late. I need to shower and get ready for bed.”

“Hey, I could join you-”

“Or you could not!” She smiled sweetly, but it was so sweet it was definitely fake and a bit off-putting. She dropped it and giggled. “Maybe some other day. But not today. You...might have a chance. If I want to give it to you.”

That flared something within him. By now he would have gotten laid. Probably. Or if it hadn’t gone his way, he’d find another girl. But Wren… Wren was like the ultimate goal. He really could have any girl he wanted. And this girl didn’t want him to want her, which of course did the opposite. She probably didn’t want him and was just humoring him. However, Sylvain knew that, no matter what it took, he would show this girl a good time. He would have her when she was willing. She was giving him something he never got from another person before. Trust. Belief. He knew she saw him, and now he wanted to see her.

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you alone.” He got up and went to her door. Curiously enough, she followed him. “But, before I go...”

He looked down at her, her doe eyes wide with wonder, something else there he was sure he knew, but didn’t want to call her out on it. He slid a stray her from her forehead.

He bent down, grasping her face with his hands, and captured her lips in a kiss neither one was expecting. He felt Wren stiffen for a mere moment, but she relaxed into the kiss and he felt her hands on his waist. He pulled away and her face was so flushed, pupils blown wide. That was the look he had been dying to see all night and of course it was there when she was kicking him out.

“Tell me you want more,” he uttered in a husky tone that sent shivers in places she did not want shivers to be.

She had to steel herself. “I’m going to tell you that if you don’t leave right now, you won’t be wearing those clothes much longer.”

If she meant that as a threat, it was laughable because it made him want to stay longer. “Oh baby that’s what I like to hear!” He tried to swoop in again, but she placed her hands firmly against his chest and pushed.

“Don’t call me baby. I’ll see you later, Sylvain.” She tried to hold back her smile, but Sylvain saw it and he felt like he was slowly winning the lottery. He was pushing his luck, but it got him this far so…

“Yeah, you will.” He winked and walked out.

Wren shut the door behind him and then leaned against it, sliding down because her legs couldn’t hold her up anymore. He heart was hammering against her chest, the ghost of the kiss still haunting her lips… Plus she was incredibly uncomfortable between her legs.

God damn it. I’m into him.

Chapter 2: A Night to Remember

Summary:

Wren contemplates her newfound interest in Sylvain. They find themselves having a wild night, and consequently some serious trouble.

Notes:

We have catty Dorothea (I love her but you've got to admit she can be a bitch), aura readings, references to modern songs, running water, microphones, and teenage antics. Wren doesn't give a shit and neither should you. Probably some other things that don't make sense in a Fire Emblem fic, but again, I'm havin' a good time.

lmao what is canon

Purely self-indulgent. I'm at this point of the pandemic. Stay safe! If you're in a hurricane zone, especially stay safe!

Wren needed to shower. She had not lied about that. Sylvain made her feel incredibly dirty, which was probably the point. It had been a long day and she just needed to relax. She hoped telling Sylvain she was planning to shower wouldn’t make him follow her. She did not need that because her will was weakening and she’d probably let him join her. She had never showered with a man so she doubted she’d actually go through with that but… Well, it was intriguing to say the least.

She needed to get thoughts of that ridiculous ginger out of her head. She needed to shower, look over her notes for an upcoming exam, and then sleep. Sylvain could bother her tomorrow.

She found she looked forward to that.

Wren grabbed her showering supplies and a change of clothes. She left her room, locking the door behind her, and headed off to the shower stalls.

It was mostly remote, which was odd for this time of day. The girls that were in there were already leaving. Wren checked her pocket watch. Oh. It was somehow nine o’clock.

Just where did the time go? She hadn’t spent that much time with Sylvain, had she? Choir practice was at half past four. It lasted for an hour and then she usually went to dinner. She usually stayed until six just to eat slowly and decompress. She did note that her conversation with Sylvain was extensive so maybe she pushed past that. Then they went to her room where she showed him various artwork she had done and he had something to say about every piece. Thoughtful things. He had an eye for art and critical thinking. She appreciated that. Then he tried to push himself onto her which blew up in his face. What else had happened…? They had that awkward sex talk where she felt like he was teasing her but perhaps he wasn’t… It felt like hours. Maybe it actually was.

He kissed me… She found she liked it. She kissed people in the past, men and women and anyone between, but it never lit such a fire in her. She usually panicked when they attempted to go further and she’d pull away and run, or tell them to leave. She could be very abrasive to people she didn’t vibe with anymore.

Sylvain was someone she did vibe with. Despite his inclination to flirt, he had good energy about him. Wren had known sightseers and other mystical folk back home so she picked up on sensing people’s energy. She didn’t think people actually saw auras, but she often told her spiritual friends that she associated different colors with people and when she told them what color, they’d say she was seeing their aura. But she didn’t actually see anything! Maybe it was in her subconscious. Regardless, she sensed something in Sylvain. The color she associated with him was…

Hmm… It fluctuated. She felt red was the strongest, but orange also popped up. Red could mean passion, strength, sensuality, confidence, among other things. The shade of it defined it deeper. She could see a red tinged with orange which meant confidence and that wasn’t a surprise. But a muddy red could mean dishonesty and that was also obvious. His red was all over the place.

The orange she saw in her mind was vibrant. He was energetic. Orange represented emotions and sexuality and the brighter it was, the better. His orange was that of creativity, sociability, intelligence, detail oriented, even perfectionism.

This was the first time in a while that a person she saw didn’t have a single color and was actually all over the place. She supposed it was at least reasonable he was within the warm colors of the spectrum. Orange was just a mix of yellow and red, and he was a bit closer to the red. Interesting to say the least.

Byleth once hinted she was interested in seeing Wren pursue Reason in the future, and Wren wondered if Byleth was aware that Wren was intuitive when it came to magic, that she could make little flames on her fingers, but other than that she was very weak. Maybe she’d ask the professor to let her study that more in depth…

She locked herself in a stall, undressed, started the water. She washed her hair, her body, shaved what needed to be shaved. She admitted she took a little longer than others simply because she shaved regularly. She hated body hair, mostly on herself but to be frank she didn’t like it on anyone. It was unpleasant to look at and uncomfortable. She liked being smooth like the dolphins she saw off the coast back home. Sylvain didn’t have much hair on his arms which was surprising. It was a lighter shade than his hair and nearly invisible. She liked that a lot.

She finished up and had started to put on her change of clothes, drying off and putting her things away. She heard voices as she was doing so.

She immediately recognized Dorothea’s. She froze for a moment. For whatever reason, Dorothea didn’t seem to like her. She hadn’t ever really spoken to her on a personal level, and perhaps that was what pissed Dorothea off. They trained a few times together since Professor Byleth wanted Dorothea to improve her sword skill and Wren was quite proficient in it. But Wren was too aggressive and didn’t know how to go easy because she was too competitive and it scared Dorothea off. During one particularly grueling session, Wren had whacked Dorothea so hard that she had run off crying. Petra and Ferdinand ran after her, Dorothea thanking Petra, but yelling at Ferdinand, which Wren thought was completely unreasonable, but maybe there was beef there she didn’t know about. Wasn’t her business, so she didn’t pry. Professor Byleth reprimanded Wren, saying she needed to control herself better, that she needed to help her classmates improve, not crush them so hard they were discouraged. Wren went to apologize to Dorothea but was rebuffed. Wren shrugged it off, a little offended, but whatever. If Dorothea wanted to hold a grudge over something like that, so be it. Wren had other people, competent people, she could spar with. Byleth was a great competitor and beat Wren every time, but Wren didn’t mind. She enjoyed the challenge. Catherine seemed interested and sometimes oversaw matches and even helped Wren refine her technique. She once told her she saw a little bit of herself in Wren and wanted to help her forge a strong technique so she could excel, pursue a possible military career or even join the knights. Wren didn’t want to say she didn’t really care for the church, so she just thanked Catherine for her encouragement and said she’d consider it.

The other voice she thought was Ingrid’s. She didn’t know Ingrid well at all, but she had seen her train. She was strong and impressive with a lance. She didn’t know Ingrid and Dorothea were friends.

But they were, and were comfortable enough to gossip about Sylvain.

“Ugh, I can’t believe Sylvain today,” Ingrid said as she turned on water. Wren knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, she should have gotten out of there as soon as possible, but she was curious. Ingrid was Sylvain’s friend. Surely she had something juicy to say.

“Oh? What did he do today?” Dorothea asked, clearly ready for the tea.

“Well, you know how he goes from girl to girl.”

“Oh goddess he does! I admit I tried to get in his good graces because let’s be real, he doesn’t care about women at all and he was already aware I’m out to use men so I can live a comfortable life. He understands my motives and I his so I thought he wouldn’t mind dinner… It definitely didn’t go as planned. We’re too similar to the point we don’t trust each other and well, I don’t think I should be with someone I don’t trust, even if it’s more of an arrangement than mutual attraction.” Wren could practically hear Dorothea shrug.

Ingrid sighed. “I don’t think that’s right either, but I understand. Arranged marriages are necessary for the survival of others.”

“Well yes. At least you liked your former fiance.”

“I did… Back to Sylvain though. I saw him with a lot of girls as usual all day. I wanted to just grab him by the ear and drag him off, but he’s pretty good at avoiding me now. And then when I was eating dinner with the others, I saw Sylvain...with a single girl.”

Dorothea chuckled. “Oh? Maybe the others saw him for what he is and threw him out like garbage.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure on that, but what was really weird was their conversation. I didn’t hear it but just watching them… This girl didn’t seem impressed with him at all. She was leading the conversation actually and I could tell when Sylvain said something in his trademark way she didn’t care for it. Her face said it all and Sylvain sometimes even looked sheepish. It was odd to watch.”

“Oh? Maybe he met his match.”

“I don’t think so. He seemed insistent on her. He would have left if he saw a lost cause. She handed him a book of dubious origins and he seemed to like whatever was in it and they ended up walking off together. We had Ashe spy on them and she took him to her room.”

Dorothea laughed hard. Wren heard her drop something. “That’s so interesting. Maybe it was a naughty book.”

Ingrid sighed. “No, I don’t think anyone would carry something like that on them.”

“Hmm, well, you never know. What did this girl look like anyway? Did you recognize her from any class? I assume she’s not a Blue Lion.”

“She isn’t. I think I saw her at the training grounds once. She has long curly, blue hair she wears with a gold ribbon. Her sleeves on her jacket were rolled up to her elbow. She was tall, maybe a little taller than you, and she wore that skirt Petra seems to favor, but with thigh high socks. Does that sound familiar?”

“Oh my goddess that’s Wren. She’s in my class.”

“What do you know about her?”

Wren heard Dorothea growl. Actually growl. Oh shit what did Dorothea think? She’d find out now.

“She’s...odd. Quiet, but she isn’t afraid to mouth off to somebody. For whatever reason, Petra likes her, but Ferdinand and Caspar do too. She’s scary when she trains. She’s the one that hurt my arm so badly!”

“I remember that. That was a nasty bruise.”

“And she tried to apologize! If she really didn’t mean to hurt me, she would have gone easy! She’s like the boys; very aggressive, or maybe even Leonie. She looks feminine with that hair of hers, but she’s a monster.”

“And Sylvain is interested in her? That’s not his type at all.”

“Yeah. He likes the more damsel in distress type, but maybe she has some sort of kink he likes. I’m sure they fucked.”

“I don’t know. We left for our rooms before we saw anything scandalous or hear anything.”

“Well, that’s interesting to say the least.”

At this point Wren had had enough and exited her stall. She went to brush her teeth and moisturize her face. She actually wanted Dorothea and Ingrid to see her so she took her time.

There was a pause. Ingrid said, “I’m almost done, Dorothea.”

“Me too!”

Wren continued patting her face like she was really focusing on every pore and then to her sadistic delight, Ingrid and Dorothea exited. She stared at them through the mirror and the look of horror on their faces made her break out into a grin.

“Didn’t know I inspired so much gossip. Good to know that maybe I have a reputation after all.” Then her face dropped, looking annoyed. “I really don’t give a fuck what you have to say or what you think of me. Whatever happens between me and Sylvain is our business and it delights me to know it gets under your skin.” Her face lit up in saccharine deception. “Have a lovely evening!” she chirped in her singsong voice and she turned away and left. She didn’t hear anything after she left and she really hoped she left them speechless. Odds were, they probably were calling her a bitch, maybe she confirmed a few things, but she really didn’t care. If anything, it was funny and a little stupid. There were other things to worry about. Some people had actual problems.

And then it hit her. She really didn’t care. She wanted to piss these girls off. She was interested in Sylvain, and apparently he was in her, so… Why not push this? As she returned to her room, a thought came to her.

She knew of a weakness in one of the walls that could easily be breached. She had used it to sneak out once just to see if she could. The guards were incredibly useless because they had never noticed. Security was pretty poor at the monastery but Wren saw this as an advantage for herself and her more devious ideas.

She sat at her desk and pulled out a nice piece of cardstock, the kind she’d use to send a postcard to her parents. Using one of her nicer pens, she wrote a message in her nicest handwriting. This had to be perfect. This had to entice Sylvain.

Sylvain, meet me at the fishing pond a quarter before midnight. Don’t wear something that shows you’re from Garreg Mach, but it needs to be snappy but comfortable. -Wren

For good measure, she sprayed it with her favorite perfume. He had to enjoy this. Sylvain was the type that liked gestures like this, or at least, he liked performing these himself, so she assumed. She waited a moment for the perfume to settle and quickly left. She looked around to see if anyone was around. Dead quiet. So she went up the stairs leading to the second story.

She quietly tiptoed and looked at the numbers of the different doors. She breathed a sigh of gratitude to see Sylvain’s was the first door. Room 269. She took a breath, knocked on his door, slid the note under the door, and ran off to the stairs. She stayed a moment, hiding against the wall to wait and hear if he had anything to say.

She heard the door open but no steps. He gave out a “huh” and the door closed.

Please see the note, she prayed. But it was all in his hands now. She descended and went to her own room. She had preparations.

This could all blow up spectacularly in her face, or it could be one hell of a night. She thought the payoff was worth it.

She spent some time picking out a dress. She hadn’t brought many, but she decided on a black one with a slit up the right side. It was made of velvet so it was a little hot, but the feel and look of it was divine and if Sylvain decided to place his hands on her, perhaps he’d enjoy it. It was definitely meant to impress, to lure in some horny bastard, and the horny bastard on her mind was Sylvain. She didn’t plan on sleeping with him, but she decided she was ready to at least let him try. This was the first time she wanted someone to go after her.

She slipped on the dress and looked at herself in her body length mirror. She looked good and she filled it out nicely. She fluffed her hair a bit, trying to define her curls more and decided to forego the ribbon. She found some of her makeup and applied dark red lipstick, some eyeliner and mascara. She decided against foundation, but she did apply some rouge. She made sure to wear shoes with a low heel since stealth and speed would be key to sneaking in and out. Satisfied, she checked her pocket watch. It was nearing midnight at this point. The dress had a pocket hidden in the seam so she placed her pocket watch and a bit of gold just as a precaution. They had to buy drinks right?

She headed off to the fishing pond, hoping he would show up. She specified a quarter before midnight because the guards shifted at exactly midnight so she wanted some time to avoid that.

It was about two minutes after her designated time that she heard a voice. She turned and saw him, looking dapper in a grey button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows (the sexiest look a guy could ever try), black vest, slacks, and black and white shoes. His hands were in his pockets and he looked surprised.

“It’s been only a few hours and you changed your mind.” He smirked. “Can’t say I’m displeased. So what’s the plan?”

“I know a place,” was all Wren said and she grabbed his arm to lead him to the hole in the wall. His hand must have slipped out of his pocket because now they were holding hands and his were so big and warm that she wanted to stop for a moment and admire how hers fit in his.

He saw the hole in the wall and whistled. “This is...not good for security.”

She laughed softly. “I doubt an army could fit through here without being noticed, but for two wayward students looking for a good time outside the walls? It’s perfect.”

He let out a surprised gasp. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I told you I sneaked out of my house back in the day. This isn’t anything new.” She crouched, fitting herself through the hole. “Come on, Sylvain. Aren’t you curious what I have up my sleeve?”

“You’re not wearing sleeves and for that I’m grateful,” he said suggestively. So he liked seeing her skin. That’s fine. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what you have up your dress though.”

She almost groaned in exasperation but the whole point of this was to keep his interest. “As I’ve said, you might have a chance one day. Let’s just see where the night takes us.”

“Sure.” And he crawled after her.

“Don’t look up my dress, Sylvain,” she warned, but there was humor in her voice.

“That slit up your dress is high enough that there is a lot of thigh and a little ass and I can’t complain.”

She felt a little embarrassed but again, this was the point. “Consider it a preliminary gift.”

“Oh baby you’re too good to me,” he said as they finally crawled out.

“Don’t call me baby,” she said, looking around to make sure the guards weren’t around. She didn’t even see any. Goddess, they sucked at their jobs.

“Okay, keep to the shadows. I don’t want to be noticed.”

They climbed down the wall that led to the marketplace rather than take the stairs for obvious reasons, and stayed to the sides. They sneaked behind the stalls for more coverage and then they reached the main gate that led into the town.

“Did you not think of the gate?” Sylvain asked, concerned.

“Oh the gate is probably the easiest.” She looked around to make sure they weren’t being seen. Then, she flipped a latch hidden and some of the wood gave away, revealing that it was actually a door.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sylvain asked as they walked through the gate and continued to step silently in the shadows.

“It’s an easy out for the guards without lifting the actual gate. They think they’re clever, but I’m cleverer.”

Sylvain chuckled, impressed. “I think I’ve underestimated you. What else have you done?”

“Not much, honestly. I like having fun, but I’m cautious. I don’t like drugs and I’m wary around people I haven’t seen before. That doesn’t matter right now. You’re with me and that’s all I care about.”

“Oh, so you do want me?” Sylvain said, playing up flattery. “Baby, you should have said so.”

“Don’t call me baby,” she repeated again. She knew he was doing it to bug her and in a way it was endearing, even though he was just trying to get under her dress. At this point, she could ignore that. He wasn’t going to force himself on her. He’d try and be forward, but when she showed restraint, he accepted it. He was surprisingly respectful. He just liked living it up and she knew she could give him that.

They were finally in the town and it was lit up with lights. The shops were closed and dark, but the bars were alive. Sylvain heard loud music, laughter, clinking of glasses in all of them. He had definitely found his way inside a bar before (when he went to town with a girl on his arm, it was usually in the evening, never quite this late, so they usually just made it as the guards would try and shut the gate and Sylvain sometimes paid them off to ignore he was a little late for curfew), so he was excited where the night would go.

“Sylvain,” she said as they approached a bar he had yet to visit. It in fact looked new. “Have you ever been to a jazz club before?”

He had never even heard of a jazz club. “Can’t say I have,” he admitted.

“They’re popular in my area of Adrestia and they’ve slowly spread, but they aren’t super common up north. I’m surprised Garreg Mach built one at all.”

“Hmm okay. What’re they like?”

She smirked mischievously. “You’ll see.” She grabbed him by the hand and led him inside.

The music was nothing he heard before. Full of bright brassy notes, violins, drums, bass, and lively singing. People were dancing and yelling. He smelled strong alcohol and the smoke of cigars. The oil lamps burned brighter than he had ever seen.

Wren led him to the bar and she made a noise of surprise. “Roger! What are you doing here?”

In front of them was a bartender, a bit grizzled but with kind eyes. His hair was greying, and his skin was dark, the shade of Petra’s. He was wiping down a glass.

“Wren! It’s good to see you. Johnny and I were wondering where you went. He tends to the old bar and I opened the one here! Your friends still come by the old bar, but we haven’t seen you. You attending the school here?”

She grimaced. “Unfortunately. My parents found out I spent my nights at your bar.”

“Damn shame. You were a lot of fun. Still are I bet.” He winked at her. He turned to Sylvain and looked at their linked hands. “Ah, I see you’ve finally found yourself a boyfriend.”

She immediately let go of Sylvain’s hand. “Oh! This is Sylvain. Um, we just met today and he seems like a lot of fun so I wanted to see if he truly is.” She turned to Sylvain and winked. “So far, he’s passed the test.”

Sylvain wanted to say he was the one that pursued her but it was clear Roger knew something about Wren that maybe he’d learn tonight. Wren did turn around and start to reciprocate, if only a little, so...maybe she was interested after all.

A girl had never left him so confused before. He felt upside down.

“Well that’s great to hear! You were always popular, but you were so selective of the company you kept. Glad to see you’re finding other friends.” Roger smiled. “You want something to drink?”

“As always!” She beamed at him. She turned to Sylvain. “How well can you hold your liquor?”

“Pfft, very well.” He wasn’t a lightweight like Dimitri, who got drunk off a single glass of wine weirdly enough, and Felix was somehow worse. Ingrid though… Well, none of them drank often, but she somehow could hold it well.

“Hmm, I’ll take your word for it,” Wren said suspiciously. She turned to Roger. “You know I like ‘em strong!”

“I sure do!” He thought for a moment. “Johnny came up with an enhanced version of a Rickey that he calls a Johnny Rickey, heh, but I know you don’t like drinks with carbonated water. Hmm...” He looked at his collection of alcohol. “Can’t go wrong with a Southern Comfort right?”

“Sure can’t! Sylvain, have you ever had one?”

“I’m not from the south so no.”

“A shame. It’s great. Roger, how strong can you make it?”

Roger laughed as he pulled the ingredients, mixing with flourishes. “At some point it stops being a mixed drink and is just a mess of alcohol. But I know what you like.” He mixed the drinks expertly and handed them their glasses. “Enjoy it on the house.”

Sylvain looked surprised but Wren beamed. “Roger, you’re the best!”

“Anything for one of my favorite girls.” He pointed to the band. “You know Frankie and his boys followed me up here. They miss you too.”

“Ahh, Frankie! He is so great.”

“Yeah! You should see if you can get his attention! They’re about to take a break so now’s your chance.”

Wren hopped in excitement. “Yes of course!”

Roger looked at Sylvain, chuckling. “You don’t know the storm you’ve stepped into.”

Sylvain was very confused. This was the girl that was so blunt earlier, reticent when it came to affection, and she was a bit quirky. But this...was a girl he had never met before. He wasn’t sure if he ever met a girl so outgoing but not in a way to get in his good graces. No, she was genuine, fun-loving, and apparently enjoyed getting drunk and dancing.

Sylvain laughed nervously which wasn’t something he did often. He finished off his drink because goddess he needed something to clear his mind. Wren practically inhaled hers and smiled. She turned and practically skipped to the band as they settled down to rest and drink water. A few approached the bar and looked Sylvain up and down, appraising him as they saw him follow the girl they knew well. They waved, she said hello, and they insisted she find Frankie.

Frankie was the bandleader. Sylvain had seen him play a trumpet, but he also sang and had an incredible voice he hadn’t heard before. Very loud, rich, but invigorating. He had short cut hair, skin like the night, and he was tall and lanky. Not a bad looking fellow at all. The music he sang made Sylvain want to sing along and dance, but he hated singing and he had only ever really danced at formal functions. The dancing he saw here wasn’t something he was exposed to.

And Wren knew this stuff? She really sneaked out and learned all this? This wasn’t something a noblewoman would do. Wren really must have hated her status to lower herself to a commoner’s level.

That wasn’t a bad thing of course. It was good to loosen up, break rules. It was just surprising because he didn’t see it often, at least not in Faerghus.

Garreg Mach was proving to be full of interesting people from all walks of life.

“Frankie! Hey! Remember me?” Wren called out.

“Wren?! Holy shit, it’s great to see you, doll!” He jumped from the stage and grabbed her in a full on bear hug, lifting her up and spinning her. Wren squealed, hugging him back.

“Yeah you too! It’s been a weird few months.”

He let her go, looking her up and down. “You look great! Attending the academy here, right?”

“Yeah. My parents found out I went to the old bar and didn’t like that so they shipped me off here. It hasn’t been too bad, but I miss the lively nature of home.”

“Yeah yeah, I get that. Who’s this guy?” Frankie gestured to Sylvain. “Handsome fella you got here.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “This is Sylvain. He’s a funny guy so I figured I could show him a good time.”

“Oh you never do that! The guys that hounded you… Girl when you’re mad, you’re mad.”

“I’m not letting some bozo take advantage of me.” She laughed. “Sylvain is much nicer.”

He absolutely wasn’t and definitely was one of those bozos trying to take advantage of her, but for whatever reason she hadn’t rebuked him entirely. She almost played along.

Sylvain said nothing about that, just smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Frankie. I’m learning more and more about how wild Wren apparently is.”

Frankie guffawed. “This girl can party. But she’s got a good head on her shoulders.” He shrugged. “The bozos she’s talking about were drunkards looking for easy ass. You can’t be all bad if she’s letting you accompany her.”

Wren must have had a lot of trust in Sylvain, because she had to have been aware he was after easy ass and let him follow her around anyway. She saw something in him other girls refused to see, or simply couldn’t. He did take advantage of girls. He wasn’t forceful, but he definitely had a silver tongue.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Sylvain shrugged back, appearing nonchalant.

“Well, if you two would stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here, I’d like to request something.” Wren said in a snarky way.

“Sure thing doll! What’s up?”

“Frankie, do you have room in your setlist for me to pop in, sing a song or two? I’d like to show Sylvain a few steps first, but if you want to call me up some time tonight, I’d appreciate it.”

Frankie looked excited. “Girl, we missed your voice! No one sings quite like you. We’ll make room for you. My boys won’t mind at all.”

“Aw, thanks! I look forward to it.”

“Any song in particular?” He went to make a note of it.

“Ah, I forget the name but I know the beginning had something like ‘havin’ a good time’? It’s been a while, but I still remember it. It was my favorite.”

“Ohhh, I know the one. Good choice! It’s called Don’t Stop Me Now, doll. Don’t forget it.” He said with a wink.

“I won’t! Thanks, Frankie!”

“Sure sure. The boys will come back shortly and we’ll play some lively tunes. Show this guy a good time. Bet he could use it.”

Oh he absolutely could. He loved the atmosphere but his company left him confused. He wondered just how good of a time she could show him and looked forward to it.

“Of course!” She waved and took Sylvain to the dance floor where patrons had started to gather again, drinking, waiting for the band to get back.

“Hey, you let him call you doll,” Sylvain said, suspicious.

“That’s just how Frankie is. He doesn’t mean anything by it.” She shrugged. “Okay, let me show you a few steps.”

Sylvain followed her lead. This style of dancing was very different, but it was fun, something he craved. It was lively, fast. Lots of jumps, twirls, movement of hips he hadn’t seen before in a dance. She went into how to incorporate that into actual partner dancing, showing him the arm movements, how to swing her around. She explained it was called swing dancing, but there were other styles she’d show him some other time.

Some other time...

He really liked how intimate it could be. When she instructed him to pick her up, swing her to one side, then the other, and then toward him as she opened her legs… This was surprising and he found himself a little aroused.

When she stopped the lesson, she took notice of him. “Don’t get any funny ideas. It’s just dancing.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely think of this later in my dorm,” Sylvain joked. “I always love it when a girl spreads her legs for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so...naughty. Your lines won’t work on me, Sylvain.”

“Oh baby trust me, I always find a way to make my lines work.”

“Don’t call me baby,” she laughed. At this point, while annoying, she found it funny.

The band got together, warming up again. Wren looked to Sylvain, placing his hands where they were supposed to go. “Just follow the beat. It’s more about having fun and energy than actual refinement.”

“I can get behind that. I hate stuffy dancing anyway.”

“Good. You’ll enjoy yourself then.” And then the band started a lively number and it began.

Sylvain, while he could not sing, was an excellent dance partner. Maybe it was his fighting training so his footwork was light and quick, but he danced as if he had done this forever. Even Wren hadn’t caught on that fast when she had started. Granted, she was nervous at the time but she eventually let down her walls and embraced the moment.

He spun her, catching her in his arms. He lifted her and she felt free. She felt safe. His hands did roam a little but it fit the mood so she let him. He was definitely invested in her exposed thigh, and he may have pinched her right where her thigh led into her ass, but she pulled it away and placed his hand back on her waist.

They went through a few songs, adrenaline running high. She caught her breath and smiled at him. “You’re really good! Didn’t expect that.”

“Maybe you’re a good teacher,” he said in that husky tone as he pulled her closer.

She was pulling away as she heard her name being called.

“Hey ladies and gents, we’ve got a special guest! One of our favorite girls from way back home came to visit and she’d like to sing a song for you.” He motioned for her to join. “Wren, doll, please come on up!”

The patrons clapped politely, some whooping as they noticed her dress and how sultry she looked. She was glowing from the dancing and while some of the looks she was given made her a bit uncomfortable, she was mostly happy to be in the spotlight again.

When Wren sang, it was like she was a different person. She wasn’t some noble girl stuck in a stuffy house. She was a free woman who did what she wanted. It was a facade, a persona, but she liked it and wished it was a permanent part of her.

Somehow, Sylvain brought that out so it felt real. She wondered how long that reality would last before she realized she was kidding herself the whole time.

Frankie helped her up to the stage and she turned to the audience. She waved, gave a shallow bow, introduced herself. She insisted she was just in the area to visit, not even paying mind to the suspicious looks that said ‘pretty sure this girl is a student.’ She turned to the band. “Ready?”

“As always!” They called out. She smiled, turning back to the microphone that allowed her voice to carry across the club.

When Wren began, Sylvain felt like he was in an alternate reality. Wren’s voice was so sweet and angelic in the choir. But this… This was a woman. This was sultry, rich, full of body and it reverberated pleasantly through his chest. The song started slow, a croon but then…

“...’cause I’m havin’ a good time, havin’ a good time!”

And the song picked up into such an energetic number, she was thrashing about the stage, engaging the audience and they ate it up, dancing wildly. Sylvain found himself enthralled too and danced, looking at her with wonder, and then she sang a line that made his heart stop.

“I wanna make a supersonic man out of you!” and she stared at him directly, pointing at him, winking.

He almost died. Not literally, but something in him awakened. He had...never felt this way about anyone before. A girl, seducing him? And doing it really well? He could enjoy this. He did enjoy this.

She looked like she was having an amazing time, all smiles and song. And when the song ended, it went back to its slow progression and she sang notes that only seemed to go higher. She ended it on such a clear high note that Sylvain felt himself possibly ascending into the heavens.

She bowed, and the audience loved it, losing their minds, rousing applause. Frankie thanked her and told her to go back to her date and she laughed brightly and hopped down. Sylvain caught her and she was taken by surprise. Her face was flushed, his arms tight around her waist, and she found her own arms around his neck. She finally let out a breath that turned into a giggle and he let her down.

“C’mon, let’s dance some more.”

So they did. It felt like hours but it was only a few more songs.

Eventually she pulled him to the side, checking her pocket watch. “Oh shit, it’s almost five!”

Sylvain laughed, a little delirious. The hour just hit him and he was suddenly exhausted.

She waved goodbye to the band and Roger and they ran out of the club. It was still dark but dawn would be soon and...they had class.

They walked quietly back towards the monastery, some of the bars finally shutting down.

“I don’t think I’ve ever stayed so long at a bar. Time flies when you’re having fun.” He found his arm snaking around her, pulling her close.

She didn’t pull away. In fact, she rested her head against him. “It does...”

They saw a guard standing at the gate, looking at the door in the gate. He pushed it and it opened. She realized she hadn’t latched it back.

“Sylvain, we’re going to need to find another way back into the monastery.”

“I could just pay them off. I’ve done that in the past.”

“I don’t know… If they figure out we just walked out using their secret exit they’d probably be really pissed. And it’s literally almost five in the morning.”

“Yeah… You’re right.” They hid behind decorative shrubbery. “How are we going to get back in?”

“The guard changes at five. We’ve got...” She checked her watch. “Five minutes. That guy is about to walk away for his replacement. We’re going to have to be fast.”

“How...do you know this?”

She snorted. “I had to learn my servants’ hours. It was instinctual to learn the guards’.”

“Damn, you really are...something.”

The guard had walked away, latching the door back. They ran as quietly as they could to the secret door. The guard was a good enough distance away, about to meet his replacement.

Wren reached her hand through a slat to undo the latch. She quietly pulled the door open, and she and Sylvain ran into the shadows, which were lesser because of the hour.

They looked at the wall they had to scale because going up the stairs was out of the question.

“Sylvain, give me a boost and I’ll haul you up.”

“Can you...lift me???”

She gave him a withering look. “I’m stronger than I look.”

He believed her and did just that. She hopped up, turning around to grab him. She managed to get him up after a small struggle. But they were now standing at each other, trying to laugh quietly.

They continued to crouch, reaching their destination, crawling through the hole. But a guard must have caught the tail end of one of them because they heard a shout of “Who’s there?!” and the twosome shot out of the hole and sprinted to their rooms.

Sylvain hoisted her up the stairs to her room and while he wanted to kiss her good night (good morning?) she pushed him, uttering a quick “get to your room quickly!!!” and he hopped down and did so.

Wren went into her room and undressed as quickly as she could, throwing her dress to the side, kicking it under her bed. She’d launder it later. She wiped her makeup off furiously with a wet wipe and found her sleeping clothes. Gods, she hoped Sylvain made it back to his room unscathed, uncaught.

He had, and he did the same, kicking his clothes off, stashing them hastily in his wardrobe, pulling on clothes he’d sleep in. He mussed his hair to make it look like bedhead.

And then, there were bells. An alarm stating an emergency.

Well shit.

Sylvain flung himself into bed, and so did Wren. Despite not being in the same room, they both knew the other had adrenaline running through, a rush of oh goddess don’t let us be caught but also wow that was a lot of fun though.

There were guards marching past the dorms, stating for the students to head to the reception hall for an announcement. Wren sighed and got out. She looked around and saw her suite mates looking confused and very sleepy. She just shrugged and they all headed to their designated destination.

Sylvain had already made it down the stairs since he was the closest and he didn’t want his friends to see him. They’d immediately question him because somehow it would be his fault. It was, but it wasn’t right to assume.

The students were all in the reception hall to find Lady Rhea and Seteth there, looking stern. The professors were also there, as well as Captain Jeralt, who looked pissed. Whether it was because he was woken up or incensed that someone had sneaked into the monastery under his guards’ watch, it wasn’t clear. Shamir and Catherine weren’t there and Wren didn’t like that. Sylvain didn’t either. He was behind her and squeezed her shoulder. She jumped and looked behind her, but her face showed relief and she just gave him a small smile and shook her head. A silent ‘not here please’ and he let go.

When it was clear the entire student body was there, Seteth cleared his throat.

“It has come to my attention one of our guards during a switch noticed two figures sneaking into the monastery,” Seteth called out. “I’m afraid our security has been breached, but what the guard saw did not look like common bandits or thieves, so we have reason to believe it was two students sneaking back into the monastery, which indicates they somehow found a way out. This is concerning because it means we have a weakness and that is unacceptable. If the two students in question would please come forward, I assure you we will not hand out a harsh punishment as long as you show us how you got out and allow us to fix it.”

The other faculty had stiff looks on their faces. Wren didn’t believe them for a second and neither did Sylvain.

Seteth cleared his throat again. “I understand the appeal of sneaking out, but it is dangerous and we cannot have students endangering themselves. This won’t be grounds for expulsion, unless the behavior is repeated. Please, come forward.”

Silence. No one moved. Wren grasped the ends of her shorts tightly. She wasn’t about to expose herself nor would she Sylvain. She had gotten caught once and hated it. She just wanted to live.

It was concerning though that Shamir and Catherine still hadn’t showed up.

Seteth sighed. “I was afraid of this. It is why I have dispatched two of our most competent knights. Shamir and Catherine, while you all assembled here, are searching through the dorms right now to find anything suspicious. If anything is found, we will call you out. I have a list of room assignments right here and Shamir and Catherine are very thorough. They have skeleton keys.”

Oh my fucking goddess this cannot be happening, Wren thought to herself. She tried not to scream so she bit her lip.

Sylvain felt a cold sweat envelop him. He hated being found out even though he was never surprised when he was. He was usually forgiven or given a light penance. But he had never actually faced Seteth’s wrath before so he had no idea what to expect.

The wait was excruciating. Wren wanted to cry. She wanted to run. Gods, she was truly a fool, sneaking out with the school’s notorious philanderer all to spite people that judged the two of them.

Well, she didn’t care about anyone’s opinions, but she also didn’t want to be found out. And anyway, wasn’t this the point? To prove she didn’t care at all what others thought? That no one could hold her back when she was determined to do something. She had made a few friends here at Garreg Mach but she needed something more. Someone to make fire run through her, to feel that thrill of when she sneaked out back home.

Seteth continued. “The guards are also searching the town, questioning the barstaff if they have seen any students. If it is found out that these students have been in a bar, we will need to have a serious discussion on propriety of students and good conduct.”

Wren surreptitiously checked her breath. The alcohol scent was faint at this point. She at least didn’t reek of it.

Eventually, Shamir and Catherine did return with items in their hands. Wren’s heart stopped. Her dress was in Shamir’s and it looked like the note she sent him was in Catherine’s.

Wren made a small noise of shock. She heard Sylvain behind her take in a deep breath. Lysithea’s head turned to her as did Mercedes' since they were in the same suite and arrived together, but she ignored their stares. She heard Leonie snort.

“Well, someone’s fucked,” she muttered.

Seteth turned to Shamir, asking her what she found. Her voice rang out loud and very curt.

“I found this on the first floor of dorms. A black dress smelling of smoke and alcohol. Whoever is in room 142, you better step forward.”

Wren held her tongue. Seteth had the dorm assignments so refusing to reveal herself wasn’t going to help, but fear froze her.

Seteth sighed. “It’s foolish to not reveal yourself, as I will only do that for you.” He checked his list, scanning the names. He had a moment of surprise, but masked it.

“Wren Elora Aleo, if you could please step forward.”

She started to laugh nervously, but she did step forward. She heard Leonie chuckle, and the other girls next to her gasped. She definitely thought she heard Dorothea say something scathing just by the tone but didn’t hear it exactly.

She walked up to Seteth, back straight, head high. She wasn’t going to be ashamed. She would not let anyone hold her back.

“How shameful,” Seteth said. “Lady Rhea, what do you think?”

“I think this is a wayward soul who has lost the goddess’ guidance. She is young, but she will learn.”

Wren resisted the urge to roll her eyes, simply closing them, ignoring the faculty’s and students’ stares.

Seteth started speaking to her. “Miss Aleo, if you would please tell us who your companion was, I will not hold this too hard against you. It will show you have some integrity and will to change.”

Wren did not have a will to change. She was loyal though, and in this moment, loyalty to Sylvain and their night out was more important to her than this monastery and its doctrine.

“Miss Aleo, even if you refuse to say anything, we will only reveal who they were anyway. Catherine has evidence right there. Resistance is truly futile.”

She opened her eyes and stared directly at Sylvain, one of the tallest boys in their class. Very clearly she stated, “I refuse.” Her face remained in a stony look.

“Truly foolish,” she heard Rhea say. “I am afraid you will only hurt you and your companion.” She gestured to Catherine. “Please Catherine, tell us what you’ve found.”

“I can already tell you who it was. His name is right here.” She handed the note to Seteth. He sighed, not surprised at this. He heard the rumors too.

“Room number?” Even though he knew the only Sylvain at the school was…

“269!”

They all heard the Blue Lions yell out, furiously, exasperatedly, whatever.

“Sylvain Jose Gautier, please step forward.”

Sylvain did, chuckling, trying to charm his way out of this. But the looks of the professors and administration clearly indicated it would not work.

“I am truly not surprised, Mr. Gautier. I am only disappointed that you seemed to have gathered one of our more exemplary students onto your arm.” Seteth said. “I hope nothing improper happened between you two.”

Many improper things happened with Sylvain, but Wren, while perhaps not the most polite student, usually didn’t do anything to gather much attention to herself.

Dancing closely though, getting tipsy, singing… Even the sneaking out. They were a boy and a girl. Assumptions could be made, even if they weren’t true.

“We just had a good time,” Sylvain said smoothly. “Nothing anyone else wouldn’t do.”

Seteth did not like that answer. “Mr. Gautier, that can mean many things.” He gestured to Wren. “Miss Aleo, you were the one that wrote this note. Where exactly did you take Mr. Gautier?”

At this point, she really had no choice but to tell the truth. Lying wouldn’t help, and keeping quiet only further proved her guilt and implied something else.

She didn’t want to get Roger in trouble though. She liked dancing at the club. She wanted him to stay in business. It was the closest thing she had to home.

“We went...dancing.” She shrugged it off. “It was innocuous. Nothing else happened.”

“The smell of smoke and alcohol on your dress states otherwise.” Shamir stated, handing Wren her dress.

“Bars smell like that. It’s nothing new. I don’t smoke.”

“Do you...drink?” Seteth asked, disturbed at this turn of events.

“I mean, yeah. It’s common where I’m from.”

“Mr. Gautier, do you?”

Sylvain chuckled again, nervously. “I mean, I like having a good time...”

It felt like the entire population of the school was rolling their eyes. It was no surprise Sylvain did any of this, but it was a surprise he hadn’t initiated it.

“Disappointing. Well, regardless of what establishment you went to, or how many, we at least know now that perhaps the town needs to be on lockdown.” Seteth then turned to Jeralt. “Captain Jeralt, if you would please amend guard assignments and tighten security near the entrance to the town, it would be beneficial.”

“Sure, but you need to figure out how they got out in the first place.”

“I am aware.” He turned back to Sylvain and Wren. “How did you manage to sneak out?” He looked at the note. “You were gone from midnight to around five this morning. It must be one hidden spot that isn’t seen well at night.”

Wren looked at Sylvain and he shrugged. She sighed.

“There’s a hole in the wall by the fishing pond. It’s in a secluded corner hidden by some crates. You can’t see it unless you get around the crates.”

Everyone gasped.

“And how on earth did you find this spot?” Seteth looked incredibly disturbed.

“Not much gets past me honestly,” she said mysteriously. It was the truth.

“Well, it must be fixed. We’ll be sure to repair the wall.”

Wren held back a sigh. So much for going out again.

“As for your punishment...” Seteth looked over other notes. “It isn’t unheard of, although a bit uncommon, but we will use corporal punishment.”

Sylvain burst into laughter, bending over because he couldn’t contain himself. Wren looked scandalized.

“You’re gonna SPANK us?!” she yelled out. She almost laughed but she was too shocked to really react.

“I would not call it that, but I suppose it isn’t too different.”

Wren grimaced. Sylvain still laughed.

“Mr. Gautier, please contain yourself.” Rhea said.

Sylvain immediately shut up.

“There will be more. You will have staggered shifts of cleaning the cathedral, the kitchens, the stables, and you will have separate dinner times so you may not conspire. On your free days, you will both accompany me in the confession room and recite scripture, since you’ve seem to fall so far from the goddess’ grace. This will be starting from today until the next moon. I will send a report to both your parents stating you are under probation. It will be their choice whether to pull you out of the academy.” Seteth rolled his notes up. “That is all.”

That was… like thirty whole days. Plus, if their parents decided they were at risk for doing other unseemly things, they might actually pull them out.

Wren’s parents might. Sylvain was sure his parents wouldn’t.

Rhea finally addressed the other students. “Let it be known that this sort of behavior is not tolerated at Garreg Mach. While I would hope other students have not done the same, I cannot help but implore for you to not follow the example of these two. Let this be a lesson that you must never break the rules of this monastery.” Rhea seemed to stare each student in their soul. “You are all dismissed.”

The other students left, faculty members too, and Seteth told Shamir and Catherine to escort the two troublemakers back to their rooms. Wren and Sylvain stepped forward, their wardens of sorts behind them.

“I’m sorry, Sylvain,” Wren whispered.

“Hey, no big deal. We still had a lot of fun.”

“Quiet, both of you,” Shamir said. Catherine just chuckled.

“Let them have one last conversation. They’re about to spend an entire moon not seeing each other.” Shamir hummed in annoyance but said nothing.

Wren didn’t have much to say either, too shaken, and for once Sylvain was at a loss for words too.

Shamir led Wren to her room and Wren waved at Sylvain. He told her good night and Catherine prodded him forward.

Shamir sighed. “I want you to know I was aware of that hole for a long time now. I used it myself.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Shamir. I really ruined that for you, huh?”

Shamir shook her head. “I’m actually impressed you found it. You’re observant. That’s not a bad thing.” She stared at Wren for a moment, appraising her. It was disconcerting because this was Shamir, probably one of the toughest and scariest knights she had ever seen.

“I also won’t mention the contraband you keep under your bed.”

Wren’s face erupted into a blush but she said nothing, just a murmured “thank you.”

“You’re a smart girl. You do well in class and Catherine likes you. Don’t waste your time on a guy like Sylvain. He’s nothing compared to what you can accomplish.”

Shamir’s words weren’t wrong. Wren really didn’t prioritize boys, never had. But Sylvain was fun.

“I understand.”

“Hmm, I have a feeling you’ll try your luck at seeing him again, and I can’t stop you. I can only warn you.” She turned away. “Guys like him are only good for an occasional night. Don’t grow attached; he won’t grow attached to you and will leave you.”

Wren agreed. “No, I know as much. I understand. Thank you, Shamir.”

“Sure thing, kid.” And then Shamir disappeared into the early morning.

The sun was finally starting to hit the horizon and Wren realized she was exhausted. And she still had class plus the new chores. She was going to die.

As Shamir left Wren, Catherine was having her own talk with Sylvain, although hers wasn’t nearly as dismissive.

“You definitely could have chosen worse,” she said as she slapped him encouragingly on the back. “She’s a tough nut to crack but she’s sweet.”

“I don’t know if sweet is the word for her. Tough nut, yes. Sweet? No.” Sylvain returned. “She was pretty hard on me earlier in the day.”

“Oh? Gave you a run for your money? Yeah she’s like that. She teases a lot, but she’s honest.” Catherine shook her head in good nature. “She’d kick your ass if she hated you.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Sylvain looked confused.

Catherine laughed. “She’s one of the top sword fighters in her class. I even spar with her because she’s so far ahead of her classmates. Someone’s gotta keep her on her toes. Even her professor spars with her. And her brawling skill? Oof, I would hate to see some unsuspecting kid get in a fight with her.”

This girl that read him like a book, that took him on this fantastic yet ill-fated adventure, the one that got flustered if you talked to her about sex… could actually fight someone? In a non-mission related way? Well, they did attend a military academy. It couldn’t be that far-fetched.

“Yeah, she really is tough. I’m surprised she was the one that invited you. Isn’t that your domain?”

Sylvain looked away sheepishly. “I mean, yeah.” He knew a lot of the students knew about him. The faculty did too?

“Huh, you must have really struck her fancy. Ferdinand tried talking her up once but she politely declined him. He took it in stride and they’re still friends.”

He didn’t like some other guy tried to get to her, but he shouldn’t have felt like that. It wasn’t like she was his either.

“Well, I hope this works out for you, probation notwithstanding. I think you’d make a good couple actually.” She wrinkled her nose at Sylvain. “Maybe she can tame your wild heart.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure her heart is just as wild as mine.” Sylvain replied as he finally opened the door to his room.

“Hmm, yeah. Anyway, I’d say get some sleep but it’s nearly dawn so you should probably get ready for the day.” She laughed. “Bet you didn’t think of that!”

No, he didn’t, but there were no regrets. He had a pleasant memory with someone he could never forget.

Chapter 3: The Consequences of Our Actions

Summary:

Going to class after a wild night out is truly suffering, but support from your friends and sending bad poems to your crush? Worth it.

Notes:

I have reignited my love for writing bad poetry. Hope everyone is still safe! Please enjoy!

Sylvain should have gotten ready. He really should have. But he had collapsed in bed and a very terse knock was at his door.

“What do you want?” he slurred sleepily.

“Sylvain! It’s Ingrid. You’re running late. Class is going to start soon.”

He groaned. He hated how his friends seemed to harp on him about things. He sighed.

“Okay. I’ll be ready soon.”

Ingrid said nothing and she walked away. Sylvain was tempted to crash back into bed but he was already in trouble. There was no need to make it worse.

He got dressed, went off to a bathroom to brush his teeth, wash his face, shave a little. Throwing those things back to his room, he heard the bell ring. Shit. He was really late.

Then again, Professor Manuela was also always late so maybe he’d have some luck today…

Arriving at his class, he saw that he didn’t. Besides the normal Blue Lions, the Golden Deer were in their class too. What…?

Professor Hanneman was at the helm, writing some equations on the chalkboard, lecturing about how reason worked and how to summon it, how it was sometimes innate which made it tricky to teach. He was so engrossed in his work on the board that Sylvain felt like he could easily slip past and sit in a seat without Professor Hanneman noticing.

He sat next to Claude, whom he knew wouldn’t tattle.

“Hey,” Claude greeted. “Running late are we?”

“Well, that’s what happens when you’re out all night,” Sylvain whispered. “Probably not the smartest thing I’ve done, but man was it fun.”

“You’ll have to tell me sometime.” Claude looked at his notebook. “Between you and me, I don’t really care about learning reason.”

“Eh, Professor Manuela says it’s a budding talent of mine so I should probably pay attention...” He looked at Claude. “Where is Professor Manuela by the way? And why are the Golden Deer in our class?”

“Eh, she’s sick apparently.” That was code for horribly hungover. Sylvain didn’t recall her being at the assembly that morning.

“Ah, makes sense. So Hanneman is teaching both classes.”

“Yeah, with your probation and all, it was decided the Blue Lions shouldn’t be with the Black Eagles considering a Lion and an Eagle had a wild night out...”

Sylvain felt his face burn. “It...wasn’t that wild. We really did just dance.”

“At a bar though. You really will have to tell me about it sometime. I’m intrigued.”

Sylvain wanted to pay attention but he found he was struggling. He was so tired and flashes of memory of what he and Wren had done kept coming at him.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he heard a few laughs and someone tugging at his sleeve.

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, bleary from sleep. Professor Hanneman was scowling at him.

“Thank you for returning to the land of the living, Mr. Gautier. I was just talking about the history of fire magic and how it manifested. I was going to have you tell the class the year it was discovered and who did the discovery, when I saw you were fast asleep. Please try and stay awake. A girl isn’t worth losing your education.”

Sylvain was speechless. Wren wasn’t just…! Well, she was supposed to be but… Sylvain felt his head become even cloudier.

“So please, Mr. Gautier, explain to the class about fire magic.”

Sylvain shook his head, tapped his forehead a bit to wake up, and stood. He felt woozy for a moment but held himself.

He went into it all. Everything about fire magic Hanneman could have wanted. He might have been asleep and Manuela may have glossed over some of this, but Sylvain did do some of the reading. He was irritable and normally liked to feign ignorance to get out of stuff, but his patience was thin.

The class was silent as Sylvain finished his small tirade. Hanneman stared at him, aghast.

“My apologies, Mr. Gautier. It seems you have been paying attention. Carry on.”

Sylvain thanked the goddess silently and immediately went back to sleep. He heard Claude chuckle and that was the last thing he heard before dreaming about his latest not-conquest.

As Sylvain dreamt of dancing with Wren at another club, the girl herself found herself in utter misery. Byleth was usually fair, sometimes a bit blunt, but she had won over her students easily. But what Wren did apparently pushed Byleth over the edge so Wren was standing to the side of the room, balancing a bucket full of water on her head. She was concentrating so hard, on the lesson, on staying awake, and on the bucket that could easily topple over should she make a wrong move and soak her clothes. She did not want that, so concentrate she must.

Today’s lesson was about posture when using lances, proper stance, footwork, how it worked while riding a horse or pegasus. Wren tried to imagine it all, but losing herself to her thoughts only made her stumble a bit. The bucket hadn’t toppled yet, but there was still a long time before class was over. She’d check her pocket watch, but moving even just that minutely would cause her to lose balance of the bucket. She just stared ahead and hoped the class would end early.

It did not, and it actually ran a bit over, but the students didn’t mind because they all loved Byleth. Wren certainly minded and wanted to leave for lunch. She normally looked forward to it, and today she was famished. She had skipped breakfast because, like Sylvain, she may have passed out before Mercedes graciously woke her. They weren’t even in the same class, but Mercedes had been abundantly kind, and she even asked Wren about her little jaunt out of the monastery. Wren told Mercedes a few details and Mercedes ate it up. Wren decided she liked Mercedes a lot and wanted to befriend her.

When Byleth finally dismissed the class, Wren let out an audible sigh. Some of the students glared at her, but Byleth merely gave her a blank stare. Wren wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“I suppose you can take the bucket off now,” Byleth said as the others walked out.

Carefully, Wren removed the bucket. She placed it on the ground. “That was awful.”

Byleth shook her head. “What you did was awful as well. You shouldn’t have done it, or at least, not stayed out so late. I don’t mind if students wander the grounds, but to leave the monastery is dangerous.”

Wren sighed. “I’m well aware.”

Byleth patted her shoulder. “You do good work. Don’t lose your focus. I know enough about Sylvain to know he’s a jerk and he’s not worth your time.”

Goddess, Shamir had said the same thing. Everyone had been saying the same thing. Why couldn’t people give him a chance? Just because someone made bad choices didn’t always mean they were irredeemable. Sylvain deserved a chance to grow. No one was willing to give it to him.

And...he was funny. Yeah, he was horny and after her, and she knew he lied a lot, but they were easy to read and predictable, so was it really lying? She read right through him and she liked it. She couldn’t place why.

She just nodded at Byleth, thanked her for the talk, and left.

She thought about Sylvain on her way to the dining hall. Lunch times had to be staggered now because of what they did. A lot of students were grumbling as they waited around the dining hall for their turn. That being said, time spent in the dining hall had lessened. Before, they were allowed at least thirty minutes to eat, intermingling with other classes. It was now relegated to fifteen each to fit the normal allotted time, and each house was to eat only with their house.

Wren sat far away from her classmates, but still within the sight of some of the guards. Today’s meal was a fish sandwich and she made sure to douse it in malt vinegar because it lacked seasoning.

Sitting alone apparently meant she needed company and she saw Petra, Caspar, and Ferdinand come her way. They smiled, setting their trays down, talking about class.

Wren stole glances at Petra. When they had first started, Wren was captivated by the girl. She was incredibly beautiful, a force to be reckoned with, and hardworking. Wren...may have wanted to ask her on a date, but Wren had no experience in that department besides making out with strangers, and she respected Petra more than that. So they began a friendship and Wren was satisfied with that. She sometimes wanted to hold her hand though, but had to stop those thoughts because suddenly Dorothea seemed interested in Petra and Wren already had too much beef with the songstress. If Petra was what Dorothea wanted, that was fine. Wren would keep her distance and simply treat Petra as her friend, because she was.

Ferdinand was an interesting one. He went around and would introduce himself. He was earnest, very kind, and frankly he was handsome. Dorothea had called him pompous once but Wren didn’t see Ferdinand like that. He truly had a good heart, if a bit naïve when it came to commoners. He was only ever exposed to nobles, so it wasn’t his fault he had a hard time relating to others. Ferdinand had asked her to tea once, saying he found her beautiful and would like to converse over tea. He even asked for her favorite. Wren was incredibly flattered and a bit flustered, so she agreed to it because Ferdinand was that kind of guy you didn’t want to disappoint. He was cute.

But when he mentioned he was interested in potentially courting her, she did decline. She thanked him for finding her worthy of his time, but she wasn’t quite ready to consider marriage yet. He was actually okay with that decision and continued being her friend.

Caspar liked her. That much she knew. Not in a romantic way though. He thought she was tough and wanted to spar a lot. They sometimes practiced brawling together and sometimes found themselves in stalemates. He was loud, she didn’t care he was, and they made for fast friends. Caspar was another one that made her laugh.

They were all great friends and Wren was thankful they wanted to still sit with her.

“Hey, so what did you do last night?” Caspar asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Wren blushed at the implication.

“Not what you’d think. We went dancing at one of the clubs in town. Drank a little. I might have sung with the band. I taught Sylvain how to dance in the style of my town back home. He’s...a really good dancer.” She took a bite of her sandwich.

“Oh! That is being right. You are from the deep south in Adrestia, correct?”

Wren nodded, swallowing. “Yeah, Annevar, it’s near the coast. I saw a lot of folks from Brigid.”

“Oh that is being wonderful! Do you know the style of Brigid dancing?”

Wren smiled. “Yeah, I do.”

Petra lit up. “Oh perhaps we should dance together sometime! I have been teaching Dorothea so it would be nice to having another person who is knowing of my dancing.”

Wren wanted to agree. She really wanted to dance with Petra and share stories of things they knew about Brigid. Wren wanted to learn more about Brigid anyway. But Dorothea was an obstacle…

“Well, if Dorothea is okay with me joining, perhaps I will!” It was as tactfully as she could say it.

“I am glad.”

Ferdinand looked at Wren curiously. “You are a noble though.”

Wren turned to him. “I am.”

“How are you knowledgeable of all these things?”

She realized she probably didn’t talk much about her past.

“Oh. Um, it’s kind of a long story, so the short end of it is I used to sneak out of the house with friends and we mingled among the masses. I got to see a lot of the culture there that nobles didn’t want to see and...well, that’s who I am now.”

“A noble who has lived among commoners… That is a splendid idea! What better way than to discover how to better serve them!”

Wren didn’t do it to better serve anyone; it was mostly to serve herself. But she didn’t want to be a downer to Ferdinand.

“Hmm, that’s a way of putting it.”

Caspar looked impressed. “Man, Wren, you’re really cool.” She laughed at that. She didn’t think she was that cool, but maybe she was.

They continued to eat but then one of the dining hall servants rang a bell, signaling for the Black Eagles to leave. Wren finished up the last of her food and they all exited.

She briefly saw Sylvain and wanted to smile his way but he seemed pretty engrossed in a conversation with Mercedes. Mercedes nodded at what he had to say and he left. She meandered a bit as the rest of the Black Eagles exited, but pulled away from the Blue Lions for just a moment to grab the attention of Petra.

“Oh, Petra! I need your help with something.”

Petra turned from her friend group, saying she’d be back in a moment, and went to Mercedes. Wren thought it was a bit odd, but decided she’d continue walking. It was time for group tasks, but Wren was to ignore that. She had her own set of chores because of her probation. Today’s was cleaning out the stables. Seteth had sent an extensive list of the days she’d be doing whatever tasks, what times, and which scriptures to study before their ‘free’ day.

As she headed off to the stables, she heard Petra calling for her.

“Oh! Wren, I am needing to speak with you!”

Wren turned to her, seeing Petra flushed from dashing to her. She smiled though.

“I am having...a small letter from Sylvain.”

So that’s why he was talking to Mercedes and why Mercedes sought Petra out…

So they were to all conspire, allowing a small messaging system between them. Wren was infatuated with the idea.

“Oh, thanks Petra!” she said quietly. She read the note. It was...a cheesy and unoriginal poem, but she cracked up anyway.

Roses are red, brown is the muck

Come looking my way, ‘cause I want to fuck

and there was a crude drawing that sent her blushing and a winking, kissy face.

“Yes, this is definitely from Sylvain,” Wren sighed. But it was...cute. Terrible, but cute.

“I am having been told to wait for your message so that I may deliver it to Mercedes.” Petra said. “Are you able to be doing that right now?”

Wren looked around. Anyone who was at the stables paid her no mind. She turned back to Petra.

“Yeah, give me a moment.”

She pulled out a pen and tore a piece of paper out of her notebook to write her own tiny message.

Perhaps another poem would work, but she would definitely outdo him.

Writing quickly, she made up a poem on the spot.

A night out with you was certainly fun

Keep trying your luck for I am no nun

She drew her own winking face with a few hearts and stars, and folded it up and handed it to Petra.

“I hope he likes this,” she said, a bit unsure now.

“Oh I am believing that he will. I will be finding Mercedes to hand it off.” She smiled. “We will come up with a system to make it look sneaky.”

It was indeed sneaky, and it definitely violated their probation, probably, but Wren liked the excitement.

“Thank you, Petra. You are a good friend.”

Petra beamed. “Oh you are being too kind. I am thanking you.” She hid the note and walked away as if the conversation had never happened.

Wren shook her head. Sylvain was going to be the end of her.

Sylvain was eating lunch with his friends, and he thought they would have gotten on to him about his behavior. They were eerily silent, ignoring him and talking about class.

Wow, they were really upset then.

Sylvain sighed, looking to the ceiling as he thought about the day. Writing that terrible poem while he was waiting to get into the dining hall was probably one of the better things he had done with his time. His friends weren’t paying him any mind, so he made it look like he was making a note for something in class. When he heard the bell ring, he tapped Mercedes’ shoulder.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?”

Mercedes was kind and she also loved secrets. She agreed. He pulled her to the side when he saw his friends were leaving without him and handed her the poem.

“Get this to one of Wren’s friends and have them deliver it to her. Don’t read it, okay?”

“Oh how devilish. I love it.” Mercedes grinned. “You can count on me!” With that, Sylvain took off and Mercedes had gone to seek out one of Wren’s friends who would be the most discreet. It was obviously Petra.

But now Sylvain was eating mostly alone, despite the people around him. It was like they were looking at him differently. It was weird. He had always done something with a girl, but maybe actually being caught sneaking into the monastery near the break of dawn was what broke the dam. Now, he really felt the judgmental stares.

He hoped Wren liked the poem. He was very aware it was awful. He had written some love notes in the past, all cheesy with flowery language. Girls ate that up. Sometimes they wrote him back and it was when he realized they thought they were ‘in.’ Then he’d get what he wanted, or maybe not because sometimes toying with them was fun, and call it a day.

But for Wren, she already knew him. He could say whatever and she’d call him a liar and then laugh anyway. Somehow, that was nice.

So he made sure to make the poem very obvious as to what he was interested in, make it a little ridiculous with a bad drawing. He didn’t even sign it because 1) if they got caught he didn’t want any of them to be implicated, and 2) she would know it was him just from the contents.

He wondered what her chore of the day was. He had received his list from Seteth and today was cleaning out the cathedral. He had to polish the floor, pick up debris, dust, rearrange seating… Sylvain actually liked cleaning, but cleaning an entire cathedral? By himself? No thanks.

The bell rang and it was time for the Blue Lions to leave. The Golden Deer filed in and Sylvain hoped his reply would get to him.

He was headed off toward the cathedral when he heard a voice calling him. It was Petra.

“Ah, there you are, Sylvain! I was hoping to find Mercedes, but I see the middle man can now be cut.” She looked thoughtful. “That is being an odd phrase.”

Sylvain could have explained it to her, but she was quickly pulling out a tiny folded message. “I have given Wren your message. And here is being hers. I will go now. I hope you are finding it pleasing.”

“Yeah, bye Petra. Thanks!” he called after her. The girl was quick and had zipped away.

Sylvain continued walking towards the cathedral but found a shady spot to stop and read Wren’s message. It was small like his, so he wondered what it could possibly say.

I kinda hope it’s a poem…

It was. And Sylvain’s jaw hit the floor at the implication of what it meant that she wasn’t a nun. His heart beat furiously and he felt some of the blood drain from his brain as it flowed downward but he flexed his hands and willed it away. He put the note in his pocket and yelled out.

A guard stared at him, as did a few students who were making their way to the cathedral, but Sylvain shrugged it off and strode to his penance. He danced down the bridge, remembering some of the moves Wren had taught him. He saw Hubert there, staring at him like he lost his mind, but Sylvain grinned devilishly at him and continued his way. It didn’t matter how long it took him to clean the damn place. He would sing praises to Wren in his head and formulate a new note to send to her.

Cleaning the place was daunting as it turned out, but with renewed vigor that the dirty poem gave him, Sylvain went about it. Those marble floors shined so bright. There wasn’t any dirt to be seen. No dust. The chairs were perfectly straight. He even changed the candles lining the pews. By the time he finished, it was dinner time and he took a moment to stop and write his newest letter. He wanted this one to be a little longer.

The cathedral was shutting its gates and Sylvain took a moment by the bridge to pull out his notebook. He also pulled out the list Seteth gave him so it looked like he was going over what it said. No one seemed to care anyway.

He paused for a moment. A dirty poem was one thing, but… He wasn’t sure he was ready to spill his heart out yet.

A limerick though…

There’s a girl who’s caught my attention

And she is why I’m in detention

She’s beauty, she’s grace, she fell on my face

Oh baby I’m in your possession

Yeah, it was cheesy. And he knew she’d love it. Now he just had to find Mercedes again.

He jogged to the dining hall, a different hunger running through him. He got in line, hands in his pockets, fiddling with the love poem. He stared into the middle distance, hoping this day would end.

He got his food and sat alone. His friends eyed him suspiciously, but he shrugged and rolled his eyes. He didn’t really have an appetite, but he made himself eat anyway.

And by the grace of the goddess, Mercedes sat next to him. As surreptitiously as he could, he slid the poem out of his pocket, handing it to her.

Mercedes didn’t miss a beat, grasping the note from his hand, pretending she was straightening her skirt when really she was hiding the note in a pocket.

Annette joined them.

“Hey Sylvain! How’s detention going?”

He scoffed, but a smile lit his face up. “It’s going. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Annette giggled. “I can’t believe you actually got caught. You were out so late! Didn’t you keep track of the time?”

Sylvain shrugged. “Nope. I was having a little too much fun.”

Annette grimaced. “I don’t think I wanna know...”

“Oh Annette, I might be the school whore, but there are other ways to have fun!”

Mercedes laughed. “A self-proclaimed whore. Not many people can say that.”

“Mercie!” Annette said, shocked. “You can’t say that word!”

“Oh, whore isn’t a bad word. And the goddess will forgive me. There are worse things I could do.” She giggled. “I’ll be sure to pray for forgiveness for saying the word whore.”

Annette looked scandalized but broke into a laugh as well. “Well, if you say so.” She looked at Sylvain. “So what did you actually do?”

“Pretty sure it was established we went dancing and drinking. It was a lot of fun. I learned a lot about Annevar. They’ve got interesting dances and music. I liked it a lot.” Sylvain looked down at his food, remembering the night (morning) earlier.

I like her a lot…

“Sylvain, I’ve never seen such a look on your face! You better be careful or girls will come after you for brooding!” Mercedes said so seriously that Sylvain almost missed the joke.

“Hey, the ladies love a brooding man.” He looked between the two girls. “Thanks for sitting with me. And not judging me.”

“We don’t think you’re all bad Sylvain. I mean, I didn’t grow up with you, but you helped me with that equation recently, even though it made me realize you were holding back this whole time!” Annette said indignantly.

Sylvain put his hands up in a surrender gesture. “Hey, I don’t like it when people take me too seriously. I’m smart on my own terms.”

“So your own terms include snapping at Professor Hanneman when he called you out for sleeping?” Mercedes said, bemused. “My, Sylvain, you certainly choose interesting moments.”

Sylvain sighed. “I wasn’t taking anything out on him. I could just...feel everyone staring at me, laughing. It’s one thing when I’m doing something on purpose, but those little looks and smirks that aren’t welcome… Ugh, I just snapped. I’m not a total idiot.”

“Hmm, it was nice that you showed your true self.” Annette replied. “Real Sylvain is super smart and honest, not this playboy without a thought in his head.”

“That’s… That’s not me either…?” He didn’t actually know who he was anymore. “I mean, gah, I don’t know. Let’s change the subject.”

So Mercedes and Annette talked about new recipes they wanted to try and Sylvain engrossed himself in that. When the bell rang to allow the next set of students inside, he cleared their plates, giving Mercedes a sly, knowing look.

She nodded, told Annette she’d catch up with her, and walked towards the dorms. She figured Wren would be in her own room and knocked on the door. They were suite mates after all.

Wren opened the door, already in her pajamas, hair wet from a shower. She looked...tired.

“Oh my, Wren, let me grab some things. I’ll sit with you for a moment.”

All Wren could do was nod as Mercedes went into her own room and a few minutes later exited and walked back into Wren’s.

“Please, sit.”

Wren sat on the floor, crossing her legs, and Mercedes sat behind her on the bed, gently brushing her hair. “You really do have such lovely hair. The color is almost like the sea. And these curls! So many girls would die for them.”

Wren actually hated her curly hair most days but had yet to find the courage to chop it all off. Still, she knew Mercedes meant well and thanked her.

“Would you mind if I braided it for you? I know a fancy Faerghus one that I think would look just lovely.”

“Yeah, that would be nice. It’s been a while since I’ve changed it up.”

“Oh goodie, I’ll do it.” Mercedes began parting her hair, tugging gently, braiding the strands into an elegant plait.

Wren found it very soothing. She missed the days when her mother and her friends would play with her hair. Sometimes it got annoying, but on days she was willing, it really did feel so nice.

She sighed, enjoying Mercedes’ fingers running through her hair.

“Does that feel good?” Mercedes asked seriously.

“Um, yes, it does. Sorry, I...”

“No! Don’t apologize. I love having my hair played with too.” Mercedes finished the plait and gently massaged the tips of her fingers into Wren’s scalp. “How about this?”

“Mercedes, you are too kind.”

“Nonsense! You’ve had a long day. Perhaps you brought it onto yourself, but aren’t we all entitled to at least one naughty evening?”

Wren blushed. “Mercedes, it wasn’t that naughty...”

Mercedes giggled. “I’m kidding. I’m sure Sylvain wanted it to be...”

He did. They didn’t have to even say it.

“Look at me.” Wren turned her head to Mercedes. “Oh you poor dear, I have some eye cream for you. You look exhausted.” She grabbed the jar of cream and opened it, dabbing some onto her fingers.

Wren allowed Mercedes to play with her face and again, it was so soothing. Was she that touch-starved? Mercedes tapped her cheeks and she opened her eyes. Mercedes smiled.

“I think you’re all set! But before I go, I have something for you.”

Wren stood up with Mercedes, who pulled a small piece of paper out of her pocket.

“I’m sure you know what this is.”

Wren couldn’t stop herself from smiling. It was all teeth, red dusting her cheeks. Her eyes looked so relaxed now.

“Aww, it’s cute he has this effect on you. I won’t read it, but I’m sure whatever it says, it’s bound to be good and so very Sylvain.” She waved at Wren. “Have a good night! Please sleep well.”

“Yes, Mercedes. Thank you, you too.”

Mercedes left, which left Wren alone with the note.

She eagerly unfolded it and read its contents. She could practically hear Sylvain’s voice.

There’s a girl who’s caught my attention

And she is why I’m in detention

She’s beauty, she’s grace, she fell on my face

Oh baby I’m in your possession

She said “don’t call me baby” out loud and realized it was a knee-jerk reaction. She laughed anyway.

So he was turning to limericks now… One came to mind. Was this becoming a battle of the bad poets?

She found paper and a pen and wrote her own out.

No I didn’t fall on your face

But in my heart you have a place

But maybe instead, you’ll be in my bed

So let us be good in haste

She was pretty satisfied with it and knew the implication of her words was leading him on. But if he was going to flirt relentlessly, she could too, right? He liked it, welcomed it, and it felt natural with him. She put on some lipstick, smacked her lips a bit, and then kissed the note. Sylvain would die. She just knew it.

She read it over, a little embarrassed at how forward it was, but at the same time it gave her a rush of something she had never felt before. Why did Sylvain have this effect on her?

Goddess, her parents really would hate him should they ever meet him, or simply find out about him in general. If they visited the school and just listened to the faculty, or students, they would surely say, “Wren, that is the kind of boy we want you to avoid.”

And then it hit her. She liked Sylvain because he was everything her parents hated. Well, perhaps they would like his status and all that noble junk, and he was very athletic and handsome, but should they find out his track record with girls… Well, they’d be disappointed their daughter chose him of all people.

Wren wasn’t much better. She used to sneak out all the time. She literally sneaked out the previous day and stayed out till the wee hours of this morning. Goddess, Seteth was really going to send a report to her parents? Sylvain’s? She hoped her parents would just write back asking what her fucking problem was and just give her a warning to not do something so foolish again.

What would the report even say? Would Seteth mention Sylvain’s name, or would he just say ‘a male student’? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Thinking about all that stressed her out. She thought of how Mercedes pampered her, Sylvain’s obvious attempts to get laid, her friends who supported her, the night she spent with Sylvain… She found herself smiling and relaxing into her bed. It didn’t take long, but she finally passed out.

Chapter 4: Pray for Me

Summary:

Sylvain and Wren read scripture with Seteth. There is a lot left up to interpretation.

Notes:

I downloaded a Bible app to get some of these verses down. I specifically used Job and Lamentations but I obviously changed the names. Also more bad poetry lmao

It was the free day and Wren found herself sleeping in. And then she jolted awake because she remembered she was supposed to recite scripture with Seteth and wanted to scream into her pillow.

She checked her pocket watch and discovered she was definitely running late. She quickly dressed, ran off to use the restroom and brush her teeth, rushed back to her room to grab her bag, and headed for the faculty offices.

She took the stairs two steps at a time and ran into the antechamber where the confession room would be. Lady Rhea smiled politely at Wren, nodding her head. Wren felt somehow violated, but nodded, gave a smile back, and walked into the confession room, gasping for breath because she had run almost the entire way.

Sylvain was already there, all relaxed, texts of scriptures in his lap. He looked at her, startled, and motioned to her hair, noticing the extensive braid Mercedes had styled it in. Wren went to sit next to him, but then she saw Seteth who cleared his throat in that way that said ‘do not even think about sitting near him.’ She smiled sadly at Sylvain and he her and she sat on the far end of the bench opposite him.

“That’s better,” Seteth said, nodding at her good choice. She just gave him a smile that said ‘please goddess help me get out of here,’ but Seteth ignored that and picked up his own text.

“I believe today will be a good day to read scripture about obedience and reverence to the goddess and saints. I think that is something you two could take to heart, given your previous transgression.”

Wren wanted to say ‘sneaking out and having fun isn’t a sin’ but she knew Seteth would probably add on to their detention and she already felt bad she got Sylvain in trouble. He obviously didn’t care, this was Sylvain after all, but had he never met her… He’d probably be on his 33^rd date for the month. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

“Miss Aleo,” Seteth said, interrupting her thoughts. “I would like you to read Gautier 31.”

Sylvain made a noise deep in his throat like something was wrong. “I’m sorry, did you say Gautier 31?”

Seteth sighed. “This is why I would like to have a scripture study class. So many of you young people are unaware of the proverbs and verses from your own ancestors.”

Sylvain looked at Seteth as if he’d grown a second head. “I know Gautier at one point followed Seiros, as did the other Ten Elites and Nemesis himself, but… He had his own verses? And those are still taught despite their betrayal to Seiros?”

“Mr. Gautier, that is precisely it. They are not widely known verses to be sure, but those of us who are dedicated to the Church do use these old proverbs and verses to instill life lessons in the lives of the unholy, that is, two students who think it is okay to break monastery rules.” Seteth looked over to Wren. “This is the older part of our scripture. The new one, the one written after Seiros’ victory in the War of Heroes, is the one more widely known. As I’ve said, this older text does have something to be gleaned from it. So, if you would please, Miss Aleo, read Gautier 31:1 to 31:12.”

Wren wanted to roll her eyes. She had attended scripture study when she was a small child because her parents wanted her to be a good follower of the Seiros faith but she eventually begged to quit, and after a lot of arguing, they allowed her. This was dredging up all those bad memories.

“Yes, Seteth...” She scanned the text until she found it. Sylvain was impressed she knew her away around the scripture.

“1. I made a covenant with my eyes; why then should I think upon a virgin?

2. For what portion of Sothis is there from above? And what inheritance of the Mother on high?

3. Is not calamity to the wicked? And a strange punishment to the workers of great sin?

4. Does not she see my ways, and count all my steps?

5. If I have walked with vanity, or if my foot has hastened to deceit;

6. Let me be weighed in an even balance that Sothis may know my integrity.

7. If my step has turned out of the way, and my heart walked after my eyes, and if any blot has cleaved to my hands;

8. Then let me sow, and let another eat; yes, let my offspring be rooted out.

9. If my heart has been deceived by a woman, or if I laid in wait at my neighbor’s door;

10. Then let my wife grind unto another, and let others bow down upon her.

11. For this is a heinous crime; yes, it is a great sin to be punished by judges.

12. For it is a fire that consumes to Ailell, and would root out all my increase.”

She stared at the page and Sylvain looked at her, wondering why this made her brow furrow so.

Of course, he knew. Seteth would choose a verse supposedly written by his ancestor or whatever. How did these even come to be? Did Gautier really say this? It was almost too personal.

“Miss Aleo, what is your interpretation of this verse?” Seteth asked, watching her carefully. Her face betrayed no emotion and Seteth found this unsettling. This particular verse should have spoken to her.

“It’s about how we should not deceive others, for the goddess would smite us. Especially those of us who have committed any sort of inquity. This goes for all sorts of deceit, but this verse in particular seems very focused on cheating on one’s spouse.” She just stared at the page. Sylvain thought she looked incredibly uncomfortable.

Then it hit him. He was the ancestor of Gautier, and Gautier was talking about cheating on his wife with another woman. Did Wren think the same of him?

He realized she had no reason not to. That was his reputation after all. It wasn’t a kind reputation, it was not a reputation many would want, but Sylvain had it because he was so intent on sabotaging his own life. He wasn’t meant to choose his own happiness; why should others?

But Wren… He liked her, she was somehow different, and he was afraid this verse might cause her to have a change of heart in regards to him. And he realized he didn’t want that.

“Very good, Miss Aleo. Gautier was known for his love of women, despite being married. He was actually married several times over, his previous wives dying of mysterious circumstances. And yet he still chased the skirts of women he did not already have.” Seteth shook his head. “It is only appropriate you read this verse.”

Sylvain tightened his fists, tearing the scripture’s pages. He didn’t say anything, but he knew Seteth was implying, if not outright stating, Sylvain was no better than his ancestor and would lead Wren down a path to the eternal flames.

He gazed over at her, gauging her reaction. She just stared at the page, biting her lip. Then, she set her shoulders.

“And why do you think it’s appropriate I read this? Particularly in front of Sylvain? What are you trying to do, Seteth?” But the way she asked revealed she already knew the answers; she just wanted Seteth to say them out loud.

Seteth was nonplussed and simply responded, “You of course know why.”

Wren said nothing, but the glare she was giving the Archbishop’s advisor could cut glass.

Seteth ignored her stare and turned to Sylvain. “Mr. Gautier, would you please turn to Elegies? I would like you to read Elegies, Chapter 3:1 to 3:3, and then skip ahead to 3:14 and read up to 3:20.”

Sylvain turned the pages, cursing under his breath that he didn’t pay more attention because he had no idea where Elegies was.

“Sylvain, turn a few pages back. You’ve just skipped it.” Wren said. She held her own scripture up and showed him the correct page. He nodded his head to her and found it.

He looked at Seteth before reading the verse.

“1. I am the man that has seen affliction by the lance of his wrath.

2. He has led me, and brought me into darkness, but not into light.

3. Surely against me is he turned; he turns his hand against me all the time.”

He scrolled his finger down the page until he found 3:14.

“14. I was a derision to all my people, and their song all the day.

15. He has filled me with bitterness, he has made me drunken with wormwood.

16. He has also broken my teeth with gravel stones, he has covered me with ashes.

17. And you have removed my soul far off from peace; I forgot prosperity.

18. And I said, ‘My strength and my hope is perished from the Mother;

19. Remembering my affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall.

20. My soul has them still in remembrance and is humbled in me.’”

Seteth nodded. “Very good, Mr. Gautier. And what is your interpretation of this verse?”

Goddess, Seteth was acting like they were two ignorant children who couldn’t read or think for themselves. Maybe Rhea thought they were two wayward souls, but anyone who read this drivel and believed it… It left a sour taste in Sylvain’s mouth. He answered anyway.

“It’s a man who brought his own destruction to himself because he did not follow the ways of the goddess. Because of his suffering due to his own actions, he finally learns his lesson, although it’s too late.”

Seteth hummed in response. “Interesting. You seem to know more than what I would think.”

Wasn’t that how everyone felt? He played dumb all the time so people didn’t put much faith in him. If they thought he was stupid, they’d leave him alone. But then those who knew of his status flocked to him, thought him handsome, thinking ‘oh he’s dumb I can have my way’ and Sylvain would turn it around on them, use them, and then make them feel like a fucking fool. It was a bitter, viscous sludge in his heart that he didn’t know would ever drain.

Sylvain decided he’d continue to play dumb, acting nonchalant like this was a normal thing to do on his free day.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s right there on the page, you know? It’s all I could really see.”

Seteth looked him over, analyzing Sylvain. The calculating look in his eyes made Sylvain wonder if Seteth had him figured out.

Perhaps not, because he didn’t say anything. “Okay, my two good children of the church, we will now recite some prayers so that the goddess may forgive your transgressions.”

Wren’s anger was palpable. Sylvain could feel it. He glanced over to her, keeping his head bowed as he prepared to pray. Wren’s face stared straight ahead.

“Miss Aleo, please bow your head in respect to the goddess.”

Wren stared for a moment more, but then did as he said.

“Please, say the Mother’s Prayer with me.”

Together, the three recited.

“Our Mother,

who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name;

thy kingdom come;

thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread;

and forgive us our trespasses

as we forgive those who trespass against us;

and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

Amen.”

Sylvain hated praying. He hated how belief in the goddess led to the coveting of Crests, and how it controlled every aspect of his life. Was the goddess truly so benevolent that she let Sylvain and countless others lead empty lives? She took Glenn from Felix and Ingrid. She took Dimitri’s family directly in front of him. She allowed Miklan to abuse Sylvain. She let Dedue’s people be framed for something Sylvain was very sure they didn’t do. Annette’s father abandoned her. Mercedes somehow still believed so devoutly but Sylvain knew she had skeletons in her closet. Ashe was a common thief, although perhaps he was the one that ended up lucky; Lord Lonato apparently had doted on the boy. He hoped that continued in Ashe’s favor.

The goddess cursed Wren with similar circumstances to him, but instead of kowtowing to the goddess, she had taken her fate in her own hands and lived her life according to her rules. She still ended up at the monastery because she had ‘fallen from grace,’ but if she hadn’t…

Well, maybe the goddess could be benevolent.

“Wonderful. Now, I would like you two to recite the Act of Contrition.”

Sylvain didn’t know this one very well. Our Mother wasn’t too hard to remember because it was the most common prayer and constantly stated during church service. Sylvain gulped and would follow Wren’s lead. She seemed to know it.

“O my Goddess, I am heartfully sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishment, but most of all because I have offended Thee my Goddess, Who is all good and deserving of my live. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to sin no more, and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen.”

Sylvain grimaced as he finished poorly. He was definitely mumbling the entire thing. During the recitation, he could hear Wren waver. He thought she would laugh at how awful he was, but she held her resolve.

“Mr. Gautier, that was abominable. How can you not know your prayers?” Seteth looked very upset about this.

Sylvain smirked in his trademark way. “Eh, I don’t need to know a prayer to ask for forgiveness. Saying sorry and making it up to people usually works just fine.”

Seteth grasped his scripture and stood up abruptly. “You cannot just say sorry to the goddess, and there is no way to ‘make it up’ to her. You must recite your prayers, bear your penance, and listen to those who know better than you.”

Oh that was dangerous thinking. That was like fascism levels of thinking, but Sylvain wasn’t going to say that.

Wren would though.

“Isn’t that...kind of a dictator sort of thing to say? ‘We know better than you so just listen and follow my every command.’” She made a face that said ‘what the actual fuck’ and continued, “I doubt the goddess would want us to blindly follow. She gave us free will on purpose right? Or was that Nemesis?”

She should not have said that. Seteth’s face was that of contained rage, but one more misspoken word, and he could end Wren. “Do not ever doubt the goddess’ will again. Do not ever say that again. Nemesis betrayed the goddess when she had gifted him everything. You do not want to follow the will of the wretched.”

Wren made to say something else but Seteth cut her off.

“You are both dismissed. I want you to write the sentence I will heed the goddess’ judgment and obey her grace until it is ingrained into your soul. Ten pages should do.”

Wren made a strangled noise and Sylvain just sighed. She was truly a troublemaker wasn’t she?

Wren and Sylvain both stood, giving each other a look that said ‘wow this was a shitty morning’ when Seteth waved over Shamir and Catherine. The twosome were going to be escorted again.

“If you thought I would actually let you leave together, you were sorely mistaken.” Seteth said.

Wren bit her lip in anger and Sylvain just sighed, shrugging because today was hopeless. “See you later, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby!” Wren yelled after him as Shamir led her out of the antechamber. The two knights laughed at their antics.

They went down separate stairways, Catherine finally telling Sylvain her real thoughts.

“So how long are you going to tease her?”

Sylvain looked at her, feigning innocence. “Whatever do you mean, Catherine?”

“I mean, it sounds like you call her baby a lot considering her reaction, like this is a regular thing, or at least, was.”

Sylvain just shook his head, a smile gracing his lips. “It’s funny seeing her riled up. Plus she teases me.”

“Oh? What has she said?” Catherine asked as they neared the dorms.

“Ah, when we sneaked out, she went from this unimpressed girl to someone I didn’t think she could be. She danced with me and...it made me feel something. Plus, she practically serenaded me and it’s like, she said she isn’t looking for a boyfriend, that she knows I’m lying, that she isn’t interested, and then she dances with me like… There isn’t a nice word to describe it. She made me feel things that aren’t normally initiated by girls.”

Catherine gave him a knowing look. “So you’re saying she came on to you?”

“Fuck, I guess she did.” They were ascending the stairs to the second story dorms. “If you had seen her, Catherine… I was mesmerized.”

Catherine chuckled. “That’s sweet, Sylvain. It sounds like you’re having your first actual crush.”

Sylvain felt himself blushing, which wasn’t often because he didn’t let things like that get to him, normally.

“I… She’s interesting. I wish I could see her.”

“Well, if you stay good and not question the scripture, I’m sure Seteth could release you early.”

“If only.” He was at his room. “So am I to just stay in here all day?”

“For now. You can leave for dinner and to shower, but it’s recommended you try and stay as hidden as you can.”

Sylvain sighed. “Alright. Will do.”

“It’s okay, Sylvain. You’ll be with your little girlfriend soon.”

Girlfriend was not the word he’d use to describe Wren, but he was definitely growing increasingly fond of her. Her poems left him wanting more.

She really was a tease. There was no way she’d do the things she said in her poems.

He started writing the sentences Seteth wanted them both to do. He was mumbling and pretty annoyed, it was just so tedious, but he had no choice.

He heard a knock at his door. Did Catherine forget to tell him something? But when he opened it, it was none other than Mercedes.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Mercedes smiled slyly. She looked around to make sure there wasn’t anyone looking at them. She hurried past Sylvain and he shut the door.

Oh, she had a note from Wren he’d bet.

“Okay, Sylvain. You know what I have for you.” She pulled out a note from her sweater. “This one is interesting. It’s more like a postcard, but I promise I didn’t read it, even though I wanted to.”

“It’s okay, Mercedes. Thank you for your discretion.”

“Of course! I like being in on something like this.” She handed him the note. “I really hope you like it. She was really happy to hand it off to me.”

“Was she now...” He read the note, noticing the mark left by lipstick. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. This was...bold. And clearly tongue-in-cheek. Wren was teasing him. She wasn’t the type for such a romantic gesture. But he loved it anyway.

The poem… Goddess, Wren, how could she…

No I didn’t fall on your face

But in my heart you have a place

But maybe instead, you’ll be in my bed

So let us be good in haste

If being good meant he’d sleep with her sooner than expected, he’d be the best damn student the school would ever see. Even if this was a lie, the thought still went to his groin but then he remembered Mercedes was there and he felt his ears heat up.

“Ah, Mercedes, this is… Well, it’s quite a note.”

“May I ask what you write about? They always seem so short.”

Sylvain smirked, closing his eyes at how silly it would sound. “We’ve been sending each other really bad poems. Well, mine are pretty bad. Raunchy even. But hers… They’re pretty clever.”

“Oh that is so cute! I love that!” Mercedes clapped her hands in delight.

“Yeah. The first one was a ballad quatrain, you know, using an A, B, C, B rhyming scheme.” Mercedes looked completely lost. “Uh, it was the classic ‘Roses are Red’ poem.”

“Oh! How very sweet! What a nice start.”

Sylvain looked a bit embarrassed. “Uh, mine was not sweet...”

“Oh. Did you say something naughty?” She tried to hold back a giggle and it made Sylvain bite his lip.

“Yeah. Pretty blunt. Definitely got my point across.”

“Well, it sounds like it was very You. I’m sure she liked it regardless.”

Sylvain remembered hers. “Yeah, she definitely made it seem like she reciprocated.”

“Oh that’s good! I think you needed this. I know you go on all these dates with other girls, but don’t you think it’s nice to have one person to cherish?”

Sylvain thought about it for a moment. “Honestly? Yeah… Wren is the real deal, you know? She’s not out to use me and it’s surprising.”

Mercedes clucked her tongue. “Sylvain, maybe you’re overthinking the whole ‘using’ thing. I’m not out to use you. Neither is Annette. I’m sure some of our other classmates like you genuinely. Maybe not romantically, but I’m sure they appreciate you.”

Sylvain’s face darkened. “There’s nothing about me to appreciate. I’m pretty terrible. The only things people think are good about me are my status and Crest. That’s how it’s always been. It’s how my parents treated me, and consequently anyone they had me interact with.”

Mercedes saw just how disappointed and sad Sylvain looked. “Sylvain… That is not true.”

“I… I don’t know, Mercedes. There’s nothing redeemable about me. I’m a troublemaker and heartbreaker. At some point, Wren is going to see that and become sick of me. All I do is say I want to fuck her, and… How is she not sick of that? She just laughs and lets me. All the while, refusing my advances but still writing responses.”

She saw how he bit his lip, how it seemed to tremble. Oh goodness, was he going to cry? She had never seen Sylvain so upset.

Mercedes’ natural reaction was to embrace him and rub his back, whispering something kind. Sylvain pulled away.

“Mercedes, it’s nice of you, but… I don’t need your pity.”

“I don’t pity you, Sylvain. I really want to help you feel better. I am very happy to help you exchange these notes with Wren. If that is what makes you happy, what makes you genuinely smile, I will do this as long as I need to.”

Sylvain looked at her and saw no deception. But it was Mercedes. She wouldn’t lie. “Thank you, Mercedes. I really appreciate that.”

“Of course! Now please, rest. Or let that note tease you...” She giggled. “Well, you know. Anyway, I must be going! Let me or Petra know when you need to send another note.”

“I will, Mercedes. I’ve got to come up with one first.”

“How cute. Good luck! I’ll see you at dinner.” And so she left.

Sylvain shut the door after her. His next poem… He wanted to be more...intimate. Vulnerable. Something about today spoke to him. He may not have wanted the goddess’ forgiveness, but that verse Seteth made her read… He had to apologize for that. Sylvain knew he got his philandering ways honestly, but seeing her face just remain stony reading it… Goddess, what did she think of him now? Would she even want his next poem?

Well, he had to try… With great effort, he managed to come up with a sonnet.

Scripture does not define every person

I am who I am, but not who he is

I cannot tell you of my affliction

For I do not understand what it is

What I can tell you is that I am true

I am nothing but myself as you know

For you there is nothing I would not do

Through eternal flames and back I would go

A brilliant flower is what I see

Her beautiful petals I long to pluck

She loves me? She loves me not? Honestly?

Her sharp wit has turned me into a schmuck

You are the lady of the highest art

You may not believe it: you have my heart

Just like she had done with the lipstick, he sprayed some of his cologne on his newest poem, and he hoped it drove her nuts. Sylvain almost vomited at how mushy and sentimental this was, but hadn’t he said he wondered if she’d leave him when she realized he was only after sex? Was he even after that anymore? It was fun to tease her, and the idea of being in her bed still thrilled him, but he also wanted to, as Mercedes put it, cherish her. They were kindred spirits after all, and he felt his soul calm when she was around.

He hated not being able to go to her directly and hand her this note.

Of course, he could do as she had done, and knock on her door, shove the note under it, and run. If no one saw him, was it truly a big deal?

If they were caught exchanging these notes though… It would have made the whole secret message conspiring worthless. No, he had to find someone to get this to her.

Sylvain figured as long as he stayed away from Wren, he could go about his day. So he left his room, the little love sonnet in his pocket, wondering if he could find Mercedes or Petra.

He managed to find Petra by the fishing pond, looking at the fish swimming beneath the surface.

“I am wanting to jump in and grabbing the big one...” Petra was mumbling to herself. Sylvain cleared his throat. “Oh! Sylvain! I was not seeing you there!” She cocked her head. “Are you having something for me?”

“Yes, actually.” He sat at the end of the pier, cross-legged, patting the empty space by him. “I’ve got another one for Wren.”

“Oh this is excitement!” Petra sat next to Sylvain as if it were perfectly normal for the Brigid hostage to sit with Faerghus nobility. She smiled at him, sitting in a way that should he drop the note next to her, no one would see it and she could snatch it up quickly, hiding it in the waistband of her skirt.

So he did just that and she hid the note. They sat for a moment more to not make it seem suspicious. He did want to talk to Petra though.

“Petra, what do you think about Wren?”

“Oh, she is being very nice. She is very smart! I am liking to spar with her. She is very strong. Ferdinand, Caspar, and I enjoy sitting with her at dinner. I was wanting her to come with me and teach Dorothea about Brigid dancing, but Dorothea was not liking that idea.” Petra frowned. “I am not knowing why, and Dorothea is not telling me.”

Sylvain had a slight idea why, but he wouldn’t tell Petra. Something told him Dorothea for whatever reason was either jealous, or just didn’t trust Wren. Wren was a noble who did not act very noble, and probably to Dorothea, that was a dangerous person to be. But Wren hadn’t told him about the beef with Dorothea, if there was any, so he just kept his mouth shut.

“Anyway, thanks Petra.”

“Of course! I must be going. Dinner will be starting soon. I will be getting this note to Wren very sneaky like.” Petra got up, waved to Sylvain, and walked off to the dinner hall.

Sylvain stayed there for a minute. He didn’t spend a lot of time by the pond, but the water’s gentle waves lapping at the sides, the sun hitting the water just right so that it twinkled… Sylvain found he was at peace.

He would be happier when Wren could sit next to him on this pier.

Chapter 5: What is Sacrificed

Summary:

Wren has an enlightening conversation with Edelgard and Hubert. Seteth makes good on the corporal punishment.

Notes:

I meant to post this on Thursday (those are my designated posting days personally), but I found myself busy until tonight. Hope everyone enjoys. This has been a great project to work on with everything going on.

Wren was running late to dinner because she stayed in her room the rest of the day once Shamir dropped her off and Mercedes came by to grab her latest response. She was so frustrated at Seteth for making her read that disgusting verse, in some vain attempt to dissuade her from Sylvain. Just like her parents telling her she shouldn’t, Seteth’s own warning against Sylvain only made her want to sneak out with him more. Do more with him. Sylvain put fire in her blood, or perhaps was the oil that one would splash on fire to make it burn hotter. Wren for her entire life had kindling in her to burn; with Sylvain around, her campfire engulfed the forest, consuming everything around it. Goddess be damned, she’d stick to this guy like glue, even if he only wanted to bed her and leave the next morning. She thought he was funny, sincere in a bizarre way, and damn it, his smile really got her blood pumping. And that kiss he gave her… Holding his hand… Sylvain left her feeling very hot. And she only wanted more of that feeling.

But she fell asleep to thoughts of him doing unseemly things to her and when she awoke, she checked her watch to see that dinner was just about to start. She cursed and straightened her clothes, hoping she at least looked like she hadn’t spent her day napping.

When she entered the dining hall, most of the Black Eagles had already sat at tables to eat. She hastily grabbed her own dinner and found the most remote spot she could. It seemed Petra was eating with Dorothea that evening, which was fine, and Caspar and Linhardt seemed to be having at it about table manners. That also wasn’t a surprise. Ferdinand seemed to be coaxing Bernadetta to eat in public for once even though she looked terrified. The other students in her class seemed to pointedly ignore her which was just fine, so she sat far away from everyone else.

And somehow, Edelgard and Hubert found her and sat in front of her. Hubert looked menacing as ever, even though Wren sensed he could be an actual teddy bear, and Edelgard looked all-business as usual. It was hard to get an accurate reading on their feelings, but Wren had a feeling they were going to lecture her.

“I mean no disrespect Your Highness, but I’ve already been lectured today by Seteth, and I don’t need another one from my house leader. I’m an idiot. It won’t happen again.” Wren looked into her food, smashing at it with her fork, not hungry to begin with.

“I was actually hoping to ask you how that scripture reading went. You don’t seem too fond of the church, to be frank.” Edelgard said.

Wren grimaced, looking up from her destroyed masterpiece of dinner. “What makes you say that?”

“You say your prayers during service, sure, but the look on your face is always that of...revulsion, I’d say.” Edelgard tipped her head, hoping Wren would elaborate.

Wren kept her face as blank as she could. “The church and I don’t have a good relationship, if that’s what you mean. I hated going to scripture study as a kid, and I hate it now. My parents enrolled me here to try and curb that, among other reasons.”

“Yes… As you know, I’ve had to learn many things about my fellow Black Eagles. As their House Leader, that is my duty. I understand you were caught sneaking out of your home before your enrollment here, correct?”

Wren kept her gaze steady. “That is indeed correct.”

“How interesting she would continue that behavior her parents so want her to be rid of.” Hubert said as if pulling her apart piece by piece. “Tell me, Wren. You seemed so diligent when you first got here. You joined the choir and I’ve heard you’re quite popular among the congregation. You do well in class, your training is quite exemplary, if a bit chaotic. You never drew attention to yourself despite what your history says. So…” And Hubert stared at her so deeply she felt like the very fabric of her soul was being disrobed. “What did Sylvain Jose Gautier say to you to throw that all aside to go back to your ways? It has barely been a month since the school year has started after all, and you’ve already reneged on what I’m sure you promised your parents.”

Wren grit her teeth. Hubert wasn’t exactly wrong, but Sylvain didn’t really say anything to her to gain her attention. It was his actions that captivated her. The fact he seemed to follow along with her despite the reputation of fucking every girl he laid his eyes on when she had no intention of doing that. He didn’t have to agree to sneaking out with her; he could have done that on his own with some other girl, but he went anyway even though she didn’t give him anything to go off of.

Something about them just fit right. Like they were brethren in some regard. She wondered…

“Hubert, would you happen to know his birthday?” Wren said instead of answering his question.

Hubert looked surprised at that, but answered her. “I know everything I need to in order to serve Her Highness… It is the fifth of the Garland Moon.”

Wren closed her eyes, pondering that. Why would knowing Sylvain’s birthday, or anyone else’s, benefit Edelgard? Whatever. “He was born under the season of The Twins… Ah, that explains it.”

Edelgard and Hubert looked at her questioningly. She realized they probably weren’t super aware of her closeness to spirituality.

“Uh, everyone is born under a certain season. Besides the moon of your birth and day, the season that starts in the middle of one moon and ends in the middle of the next can determine things as well. There are signs that each of these seasons represent. From around the 21^st of the Harpstring Moon to the 21^st of the Garland Moon is the season of The Twins, for instance. And each of these signs are ‘brethren signs’ to another, sort of like complementary colors on the color wheel, if that makes sense.”

Edelgard nodded. “So you’re saying much like blue and orange can go together, or yellow and purple, Sylvain’s sign complements yours? And what is your sign?”

“I was born on the 7^th day of the Ethereal Moon, so I am the sign of The Archer.”

Hubert glared at her. “You are speaking of beliefs that were thought to be purged from Adrestia when the Church of Seiros was put into power.”

Wren shrugged. “Annevar is a hodge podge of beliefs due to our proximity to the archipelago of Brigid and our history of importing and exporting goods. I know a lot about different types of spirituality and religion, and I can’t really dismiss them...” She glanced over her shoulder before dropping her voice conspiratorially, “but the Church of Seiros has never struck me as being particularly helpful. Something about it is very off.”

Edelgard looked at her carefully, as if processing her words. Hubert said nothing, his gaze unreadable.

Wren realized she had said this to the future emperor and her advisor. “I’m sorry, perhaps I overspoke...”

“No. Not at all.” Edelgard finally said. “If it means anything, Hubert and I...may have similar beliefs.”

“Is it really wise to let her know that, Your Highness?” Hubert asked, worry marking his brow. It was the most upset Wren had ever seen him.

“Yes, I think it will be fine,” Edelgard said smoothly, looking Wren over. “Wren, please understand you are not alone in this regard. Many share that belief, and I will not betray your confidence.”

Wren looked surprised but was thanking her lucky stars. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“You did not answer Hubert’s question though. What did Sylvain tell you that made you want to change course?” She smirked, which was a weird look on her normally stoic face. She looked playful.

Wren found herself blushing. It wasn’t everyday the Adrestian Princess looked like she wanted to share some juicy gossip at a sleepover. “Um, well, he didn’t really say anything to me???”

Both of them looked at her confused. “He didn’t try one of his pathetic lines?” Hubert asked.

Wren laughed. “No, he tried following me to choir practice, but I sensed him behind me and just turned around to throw him off. He looked hilariously surprised. He tried a line, but I just told him if he really wanted to follow me to choir practice, he was more than welcome to. And for whatever reason, he did. And that caught my attention. He thought he could get easy ass I guess, but instead of that, he just made an ass of himself because wow can he not sing, and I invited him to dinner anyway.” She shrugged. “We got to talking, and I suppose we figured each other out. I told him I knew he was just trying to get in my good graces to sleep with me, and he seemed surprised I wasn’t put off by that. He kept hinting that he thought I would use him and well, why would I? I don’t give a fuck about his status or Crest. I don’t care about his money or anything like that. He’s a funny guy and frankly pretty cute. We aren’t that much different as I found out, and I guess from there we just kind of...bonded.”

“That’s actually cute,” Edelgard admitted. “So what led to sneaking out together?”

Wren decided she would not tell Edelgard about how she and Sylvain had kissed in her room and had shown him her smut collection and art, because no one else needed to know about that hobby. “I, um, overheard some nasty gossip about him while in the showers and I kind of wanted to spite the people who were speaking it.” She looked away. “They said some pretty mean stuff about me too, and it made me realize I don’t answer to anyone. I’m going to do what I want, with whom I want, everyone else be damned.” She looked back to see Hubert and Edelgard looking very intrigued by that. “I mean, I’m not going to defy just anybody about anything, but when it comes to how I spend my time with some boy I just met? Let them think what they want. It’s my life. I stay true to those that respect me and care about me.”

“So you’re implying Sylvain respects and cares about you?” Hubert asked devilishly, as if she hadn’t seen that weakness.

“I don’t know enough about Sylvain to say that he cares about me, but I can tell you quite confidently that he is respectful. He tries his luck, and when I don’t reciprocate, he doesn’t push it. There were many moments during our time out of the monastery that he could have easily had his way with me, but he didn’t. He followed my lead.” She pushed her plate away finally. “It was my idea to sneak out. I sent him the note. He had the choice to decline, but instead he didn’t. If he thought agreeing meant he could get some, well, it was very misguided, but I know he had a good time regardless.”

“What did you do?” Edelgard asked, looking as if this was the most interesting thing she had ever heard. This princess must not have gotten out much. It was actually adorable.

“I think it was established we went drinking and dancing. I won’t go into details because I want to protect those that hosted us, but I know some folks, and we did just dance and drink. I did sing with a band as well, but that isn’t really new for me. Sylvain thought it was fun though. He was...pretty transfixed.” Wren smiled. “It felt like I was home again.”

“A noble who sings among commoners and knows their dances… Perhaps it was wise your parents made your sister the heir...” Hubert intimated. Wren froze at that.

“My parents made her the heir because her Crest was Major, and mine is Minor. Literally it’s the same Crest, but one is slightly stronger, and therefore the bearer is the better heir, despite that I’m the older sibling who already took all the right lessons. My parents created the Wren you are speaking to currently.” Wren felt herself quake in anger but managed to quell it. “But it’s better that way. Being the head of my household? Sounds exhausting. Singing and dancing is way more fun, and I had dreams of leaving for Enbarr anyway to pursue a different sort of career for a noblewoman, but my parents found out about my pastimes and decided to quash those dreams and sent me here instead. A girl like me apparently needs to learn her place and find a husband, or join the military if I seem so intent on not being like a true noblewoman.” She rolled her eyes. “Their mistake. I probably would have gotten in less trouble had they let me go to Enbarr, but instead I’m on probation for doing the same things they punished me for, with a boy I know they wouldn’t approve of.”

“But Sylvain is heir to his household, has a Crest… His pedigree is perfect. What would your parents hate about him?” Hubert asked, but much like she asked Seteth of answers she already knew, so too did Hubert.

“Hubert, you already know. My parents would indeed love his pedigree, and considering our house isn’t exactly powerful, shipping me off to Faerghus for a little more power would be beneficial. However, if they somehow got wind of Sylvain’s favored pastimes, they certainly wouldn’t be happy. It’s very mixed with them: they would have to weigh this in their hands. Which is worse: denying themselves the power another more influential house could give them, or having their daughter marry a man who has done deplorable things?” She heard herself growl as if this conversation was making her have an out of body experience. “Granted, my opinion has never really mattered to them, so they’d probably choose the power. But if they knew I chose Sylvain, they would probably hate that. In the end, they don’t want me to have agency, so perhaps being with a guy like Sylvain would piss them off enough that they’d, I don’t know, make me into a nun, which would only be even more hilarious.”

“So… You hate the Crest system and the current way the nobility seems to hoard them.” Edelgard said without question. Wren nodded.

“Yeah, Sylvain and I both agreed: they fucking suck.”

Hubert made a face. “I must admit, you do swear too much for a noblewoman, but you did say you weren’t fond of that status anyway, so I won’t admonish you for it. If anything, it makes you unique and true to your word.”

Edelgard smiled and looked at Wren as if letting her in on a secret. “That’s Hubert’s way of saying he approves.”

Wren choked on her own spit. “Pfft, really? Thanks, Hubert. It’s good to know that I have your approval over my parents’. Frankly that’s more impressive.” She laughed loudly.

Hubert looked only more menacing which made Edelgard laugh, and a few students over stared at the Imperial Princess and the delinquent noble laughing at the expense of the scariest Black Eagle. But then the bell rang to indicate it was time for them all to leave, so they all put their dishes away and filed out.

“Um, thanks for the talk, Your Highness, Hubert,” Wren said as she went to make her way to her room.

“You can call me Edelgard, Wren. I assure you, I do not mind.”

“Oh, okay… Edelgard.” Wren liked the way her name felt in her mouth. She felt like she made a very beneficial connection, which only made her a bit sick because that’s what her parents would want. But Edelgard did seem very cool now, and she decided she liked Hubert. He wasn’t actually a mean spirited person, just protective of his liege, and she didn’t blame him. If she had Hubert’s approval for whatever, then she could only assume that an asset. Better to be in your future leader’s good graces than to be labeled as a potential threat. Wren only wanted to be a threat to those that mocked her frankly, and that was mostly her age talking.

She passed by a few Blue Lions that were walking towards the dining hall and Mercedes bumped into her. She felt something slide into her hand. Slowly, she put whatever it was in her pocket and continued to her dorm. She saw Sylvain and they shared a look, but nothing that revealed anything. If anything, it looked like they were merely acknowledging each other.

Wren got into her room and locked the door. She pulled whatever it was out of her pocket and saw it was a folded letter smelling of Sylvain’s cologne. She did feel herself weaken in the knees but held herself steady. She sat on her bed, kicking off her boots as she opened the letter to read.

Sylvain went out of his way with this one. A sonnet? That took a lot of brain power, and she already knew he wasn’t stupid, just played the part. He was also clearly cultured because not many guys in her experience would willingly write one of the more complicated poems to exist, nobility aside. Ferdinand would probably do something like this, but only after he knew he was courting someone. Sylvain just seemed to do this because why not?

It was also very thoughtful, because it referred to what happened earlier today.

Scripture does not define every person

I am who I am, but not who he is

I cannot tell you of my affliction

For I do not understand what it is

I mean, I’d say the affliction is you whoring yourself out to every girl that looks your way, and your ancestor apparently was the same, but I guess thanks for the shallow apology? Wren thought about it a little more critically. Sylvain probably really didn’t understand why he was so horny all the time, besides being a teenage boy who decided to throw his propriety to the side. He clearly hated being a noble so much that he was trying to sabotage that, and yet it made him more enticing to girls. Or at least, the more naïve girls. Regardless, she was curious as to what the rest of the sonnet would say.

What I can tell you is that I am true

I am nothing but myself as you know

For you there is nothing I would not do

Through eternal flames and back I would go

Now that was quite a statement. Many would have disagreed with this, but he was determined to ‘sing praises’ with her when he really shouldn’t have and could have just given up, but in his own Sylvain way, he was telling the truth. He did sneak out with her when she had given him nothing to work off of, besides the embarrassing secret of her smut stuff. He didn’t seem to mind being in trouble, and if anything, it only fueled him more. Perhaps becoming his next conquest was the challenge to end all challenges. If he could get this demure, strongwilled, hardheaded girl into bed, then he would truly be the philandering king, wouldn’t he? She almost wanted to prove him wrong, but she also wanted to see how far he’d go. She kept reading.

A brilliant flower is what I see

(oh lord)

Her beautiful petals I long to pluck

(oh this will be good...)

She loves me? She loves me not? Honestly?

Her sharp wit has turned me into a schmuck

You’re telling me he didn’t rhyme this with ‘fuck’? This cannot be written by Sylvain. All he’s wanted to do was tell me he wants to fuck me.

You are the lady of the highest art

You may not believe it: you have my heart

She stared at those last two lines. She was...shocked. Flabbergasted. Struck speechless. Her mouth had dropped open but she couldn’t say anything. This had to be a joke right? This was Sylvain. He was known to be nasty, to flirt. She had heard some girls say he wrote them love letters all the time, so this had to have been just like the others. He could not be this sentimental. This was a change in strategy; if he couldn’t be blunt about it, he could butter her up with words, right?

But he had tried that before and she called him out on it. Then he started being more blunt, then actually honest, and then would hide immediately behind that ‘hey we should fuck sometime’ persona, and now he was back to being the romantic yet fake playboy? The kind that wanted to compliment a girl until he was under her skirt? What was this? She couldn’t figure it out.

He was clearly upset about the scripture stuff, that much she could see. She was too, and while it did enlighten her on why Sylvain possibly was the way he was, it didn’t deter her the way Sylvain apparently thought it would.

Maybe her teasing in her poems was so out of character for her that he had to turn around and be out of character in turn? Now she was confused. Was he being genuinely sweet and vulnerable, or was he trying to charm his way into her bed again? She was both flattered he was capable of these words, but knowing his past…

A person wasn’t always their past, even if it was recent. Didn’t she say she wanted to give him a chance, one that others weren’t willing to give? She was his chance to turn a new leaf. She really hoped this was the start of that.

She decided...she’d reciprocate. She did fall asleep earlier that day to the thought of Sylvain’s warm hands holding her in places that were certainly not her hands, and while she would not fall prey to those desires quite yet, she at least...wanted to indulge the idea. She wanted to see how long Sylvain could hold out until she was ready. It could be sooner rather than later, she thought. Would he grow tired of waiting, give up this charade of sending each other love poems so he could finally scratch an itch, or was he in this for the long haul? Was she that challenge she thought about earlier, or did he genuinely mean the things he said, that she had his heart? She doubted Sylvain was capable of cherishing a girl, she knew that from the hearsay, but… She was willing to try. He deserved a second chance. Everyone deserved the opportunity to redeem themselves, and if this was Sylvain’s attempt, she’d let him try valiantly. If it blew up in her face? Well, she hoped Sylvain could at least give her a good time.

Now it was her turn to write a sonnet. She wanted to call him out on his not using the word ‘fuck’ once. He had a golden opportunity to do so, and he didn’t? What the actual fuck?

Sonnets were definitely more difficult, and while she did consider herself clever, keeping to the iambic meter, the line limit, and simply the words, she still found this somewhat a daunting task. Sylvain was not an easy opponent in the way of poetry battles. But her idea was mischievous. If he was going to play sweet and vulnerable, then she’d be the succubus he didn’t think she could be. After all, she did read those smutty novels.

I actually thought you would say fuck

Because it is in character for you

But your sonnet inside of me has struck

A feeling that is suddenly quite new

This better have not been a mean, cruel joke

An enemy you will have made of me

Your endless flirting will surely provoke

For now, I can only wait and then see

To be fair, I do find you quite handsome

Even though your tongue is made of silver

Unfortunately, my heart is ransomed

The junction between my thighs does quiver

Sylvain Jose Gautier played a trick

He made me crave his stupid, fucking dick

She did laugh at the last line. It was blunt, even for her. And not untrue. He probably thought it was a lie, but lying wasn’t something she did, at least, not outright. Wren was always pretty upfront about things. She sometimes lied by omission, didn’t tell people she sneaked out until caught, but when directly asked something, she was almost always truthful. And on her feelings? She couldn’t deny them. That was a dishonor to herself, and the person she held them for. If she didn’t like you, she didn’t keep you in her life. Honesty was her policy.

She decided she’d draw some roses to surround the poem, make it seem innocent, even though flowers could also be sexual in meaning. She wondered if Sylvain would appreciate flowery imagery, but she already put ink to paper and was happy with the result. She hoped she could pass this off to either Petra or Mercedes. Especially tonight. She wanted Sylvain to burn as he tried to fight off the urge to either indulge himself or run to her room to make good on her words. She didn’t know the written word could be such good foreplay, but between two interested parties? This may be better than actual sex. It was so satisfying letting these thoughts out, and who better to read them than the guy who thought these all the time?

She decided she’d leave this on her desk and go to shower, to at least try and deter herself from fantasizing Sylvain doing sinful things to her. She grabbed her things, made sure to lock the door behind her. She made it to the showers, which were thankfully empty and she was able to clean herself of the day’s dirt and her thoughts. She kept her hair in the braid Mercedes had worked so hard on and avoided getting it wet. She liked the way it looked.

As she exited the showers, dressed in simple clothes to sleep in, Shamir approached her.

“Ah, there you are. I was actually about to visit you in your room. Seteth needs to see you.”

She grimaced. “Is it about what I said during the scripture reading today? I don’t really want to apologize for that, even if it means I’d be in his good graces again.”

Shamir laughed, actually laughed. “Well, I can’t say I blame you, but as a Knight of Seiros, I shouldn’t condone that so I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it.” She shook her head. “No, Seteth intends to...make good on one of your punishments.”

Wren felt herself drown in a cold sweat when the shower had been so hot. “Oh goddess he really is going to spank me isn’t he?”

Shamir laughed harder. “He would hate hearing that. It’s corporal punishment. Children get spanked.”

“I mean, aren’t I a child of Seiros?” Wren said mockingly. “That isn’t much different.”

Shamir had to agree. “Well, when you put it like that...” She motioned for Wren to follow her. “I’ll let you deposit your things back in your room, but you do have to follow me.”

Wren almost rolled her eyes but she didn’t want to disrespect Shamir. She actually liked Shamir. “Okay. Weird he’d want to do this at this hour.”

“I suppose he wants you to reflect on it as you lie in bed. I don’t really understand his methods myself.”

Wren left her things in her room. She thought about grabbing the note because what if she ran into Sylvain because of the imminent spanking? Then again, Catherine or Shamir or even Seteth would confiscate it if they caught her so she decided against it and locked her door, the note still on her desk.

Shamir led Wren to Seteth’s office. Goddess this was going to be so unpleasant. She hoped it would only be her and Seteth. Having Shamir or Catherine or Sylvain witness this would be...awful. Well, maybe not Sylvain. Maybe he liked that sort of thing and it would give him ideas… No, she could not think about that when she was about to be administered that as a punishment.

Although… If she acted like she liked it, maybe Seteth wouldn’t ever do this to another person again. It was humiliating and frankly childish. They were practically adults. This was going too far.

But she found herself at Seteth’s door. Catherine was waiting outside. Shit, Sylvain was already there. Wren felt her body stiffen. She was about to overhear this.

Shamir had her face the door as she matched Catherine and stood at the other side of the door, back to the wall as they both watched Wren. Catherine smirked.

“I admit, this is a bit...ridiculous. Funny, but… You’re a little old to be spanked.” She shrugged. “But it’s what was decided as the best punishment so… You reap what you sow.”

Shamir made a face like it was stupid to say that, and Wren shared a look with her, but said nothing. She tried to keep neutral. She didn’t want to make this worse…

Sylvain did not apparently seem to share that sentiment because she heard one hell of a moan instead of a curse.

Wren snorted. She tried not to laugh. Catherine looked amazed, Shamir smirked. They all heard Seteth curse, say something in a disapproving tone and they heard the smack of a paddle. Sylvain moaned again.

This time, Seteth raised his voice.

“Mr. Gautier! If you do not cease this immediately, I will only add to your punishment.”

They heard Sylvain chuckle. “Seteth, I don’t know how to tell you this, but maybe I’m into it.”

They could practically hear Seteth erupt in embarrassment. “Mr. Gautier, that is entirely inappropriate to say to a superior.”

Sylvain was playing dumb really well. Wren knew he was trying to make Seteth feel ridiculous for hitting a clearly sexually active man in a way that some people really were into.

There was one more WHACK! and Sylvain let out an ecstatic “YES!” and that was when Wren realized Seteth had given up.

“The goddess is truly lost on you. I suppose I really must add to your probation. Perhaps another letter to your parents stating you’ve lost yourself in sinful activities will curb this behavior, or an extension on chores and separation.”

They heard Sylvain chuckle. “My parents really won’t care. I can’t do anything wrong because I have a Crest and that’s all they care about. Why else do you think I do the things I do?”

Seteth apparently growled. “I can only hope Miss Aleo will not react the way you have. I like to think she has some dignity regardless of her interest in you. She was a good student before meeting you, had a good head on her shoulders. She has potential.”

“You wound me, Seteth.” Wren could hear the feigned hurt. He was really laying it on thick. Or he could have meant it, but acting like he was playing he was feigning hurt. The labyrinth of his lies was immense and she wondered how she was able to traverse it.

“You’re saying I don’t have potential?” Sylvain asked and Wren knew he was trying to test Seteth, to see if he truly felt the way others did.

“You may have the status and a Crest, but your behavior is deplorable and I know your classmates do not approve. I thought the new professor would be a problem, but it seems I need to keep a closer eye on certain students.” She heard Seteth lower his voice to a threatening growl. “If you so much as look at Flayn the way you have other female students, you will know my true wrath.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sylvain answered. That definitely sounded honest.

“Good. You are dismissed.”

Sylvain then opened the door, seeing Wren standing before it. “Well, I may have made our situation worse.”

“Perhaps for yourself…” Wren hinted. “Surely Seteth wouldn’t punish me if I truly have such a good head on my shoulders.” She grinned. “Of course, I do enjoy proving others wrong.”

“Don’t make it worse, for your own sake.” And despite the blunt warning, Wren saw the regret in his eyes. Very faint, but he turned his head before she could stare too deeply. “You have potential. Don’t waste it.”

If she only knew that Sylvain was insecure in regards to how she truly felt about him. He was afraid she’d give up on him, despite how honest she was, insistent she wasn’t out to use him. She wrote the silly poems but maybe that was a foolish activity, something to only make him hope he had something genuine. Maybe she was different… But he didn’t want to drag her down like the others. She really was special. And the only way she wouldn’t be dragged down was if he let her go. He wasn’t a prize. He wasn’t worthy. He had a Crest, and anything else about him could be garbage because no one else could see it. Ignored it. Except maybe his friends, but they also insisted his Crest was a gift, when he only saw it as a curse.

Wren saw hers similarly, but she was good. She was fun. She was kind. She gave him the light of day. She had friends that seemed to really like her and didn’t shame her. She was light and he was only the darkness that could consume light.

“Maybe I don’t want potential. Having that sort of expectation only makes it harder. I just want to be me.” But then Seteth motioned for her to walk in and Catherine led Sylvain away.

He sighed in regret. Seteth would go easy on her. It was clear he preferred Wren, for whatever reason. She had been so vocal during the scripture reading, but she also seemed to know her away around it, so maybe Seteth thought he could have her continue her study of it. Even if it was clear she hated it… The laws of the church could put her on the straight and narrow.

He just strode sullenly away, suddenly very exhausted.

Wren did not like being in Seteth’s office after hours. Before meeting Sylvain, she sometimes visited Seteth because they both discovered they liked to write and Wren displayed a good knowledge of the written word and how to master it in writing. Seteth rarely had the opportunity to share his love of writing fables to others, and when he learned Wren wrote her own tales, he offered to host her in his office and they write together, to bounce ideas off each other. He wanted to cultivate that hobby, perhaps turn it into something she could really utilize in life. People loved good novels, and he felt Wren had that potential.

Wren appreciated that and did enjoy her visits with Seteth. But then… Sylvain happened and so quickly did she turn down a very dangerous path.

“Miss Aleo, I cannot express how immense my disappointment is. I truly do think you have great potential, and I think it will only return if you stopped your association with Sylvain.”

“Seteth, I’ve known him for like two days.”

“And you already find yourself on probation. I can only imagine how much worse it would become should you continue to associate with him.”

She wanted to say she had always been this way, that meeting Sylvain only brought it back, but decided perhaps she really would hold her tongue. That was why she was here. Her parents enrolled her to mold her into a model noblewoman. She defied that desire of her parents’, but it only seemed to return over and over in the forms of disappointed teachers adamant on keeping her on the right path. She truly was a good student at first.

But she felt dead. Sylvain made her feel alive. And she wanted to keep that feeling.

“Seteth, what even is my potential? I have no inheritance; my parents gave that to my younger sister because she has a Major Crest, when mine is only Minor. My parents want me to find a husband because I’m a woman and that’s what good women do. It’s that, or become a knight, and, not to disrespect the Knights, but that’s not what I want to do either.” She held back the urge to cry. Why was everyone so insistent on her living her life according to doctrine? Why wasn’t she allowed to break away?

Because that’s how it’s been for hundreds of years. She was caught in a cycle that she struggled to break against. She hoped maybe one day someone would be strong enough to do just that so she could live freely.

“I understand that’s what your parents want of you. Most parents do, especially those of noble blood. What is it that you want to do?” Seteth asked and she found it to be kind.

“I wanted to leave for Enbarr and join the opera, writing plays, painting. I wanted to live the night life and live fast. Everyone always seems so intent on playing by the rules, but that denies them of opportunities and the chance of something amazing. I won’t deny myself that. I can’t. It goes against my nature.” She wasn’t about to say that’s how her sign of The Archer influenced her, because Hubert was right: the Church of Seiros did not approve of those sort of beliefs. They went against the teachings. Crests determined your fate. Anything else was a threat and Wren did not like that at all.

Seteth stared at her a moment. “I sensed that in you, to be honest, from our little visits. You are quite imaginative and your writing is indicative of your thirst for adventure.” He sighed. “But choosing to adventure with Sylvain… You could choose a better man, a man that will stay with you, rather than merely play.”

She bit her lip. “Maybe...he wants to stay.”

Seteth tutted. “He doesn’t.” He picked up the paddle. “I hate saying this, but if you could please bend over and grab the desk.”

She swallowed nervously. Wren had a fairly high pain tolerance, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. She hated being spanked as a child (which didn’t happen as often as it could have honestly), and the time she broke her ankle was unpleasant, but mostly because it made dancing difficult. The initial pain was terrible, but she could deal with the soreness.

“May I have a request before doing so?” she asked quietly.

“You are not in a position to request anything, but I will hear you out, if only to hope to reform you.”

“Seteth, if I don’t...act the way Sylvain did during his punishment, could you not add to his? I’ll accept it. I won’t make it into a joke. I can be good for the both of us.”

His eyes narrowed, watching her for any moment of dishonesty. But he knew from experience this wasn’t a girl who lied. Perhaps she withheld things, but she never outright lied.

He let out a sigh. “I can grant that. This seems important to you, even though it truly shouldn’t. Self-sacrifice is an act of the goddess and though Sylvain is not deserving of your grace, he should consider himself lucky. I only hope you don’t regret this.”

“Yes sir.” She bent over and grabbed the desk, holding tightly with white knuckles. She braced herself, clenching her jaw. She closed her eyes.

The first swing stung. It wasn’t too bad, and perhaps Seteth was going easy on her. That did incense her.

“Please don’t go easy on me,” she said. “I’ll take the full brunt of it. It’s fine.” She had been through worse. The neglect from her parents, the betrayal, the shame and fright from being desired by strangers because they thought she was easy… Being sent here because she wasn’t good enough on her own and not proper…

The pain of being separated from Sylvain when he made her laugh, piqued her curiosity the way a guy never had before…

She would take any pain if it meant she never felt that pain again. Physical pain could not compare.

Seteth frowned, not liking that she insisted on being hurt worse. This was very self-destructive, harmful even. Sylvain had warped her this much?

Perhaps not. Perhaps she was simply that kind.

“Fine.” He swung harder.

Seteth as it turned out was monstrously strong. Whatever he hid under those robes was incredibly powerful and she yelped. She gripped the desk harder, planted her feet more securely. She refused to cry. She hated crying in front of people no matter the circumstances. It happened, but she usually reserved a crying fit for the safety of her room where no one could pity her.

He swung again and it stung more. A sob slipped out, but she bit her lip.

In total, he hit her ten times and she felt so incredibly sore. For a moment she couldn’t move. She merely trembled.

Seteth helped her up. “You’ve endured enough. I hope you understand this lesson and I hope to never repeat it. Sylvain’s punishment will not be extended. When your probation is done, so too will his.”

She choked out, “Thank you,” and left. Seteth opened the door for her and Shamir led her back to her dorm.

It was quiet a long time. Wren was doing her best not to be upset. She had more dignity. Seteth had said so, right? She didn’t want to cry like a scared child. Her heart was simply hurt.

She was self-sacrificing. She always had been. Her friends back home could always rely on her. When one got too drunk, she walked them home to be safe, even if it meant she could be caught more easily. She got in fights to protect her friends when someone threatened them. She was loyal. She liked to make sure everyone around her was happy, even if it exhausted her.

She could add Sylvain to those ranks.

Shamir finally said something as they neared her room. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“What?” Wren asked tiredly.

“You made it worse for yourself just to save Sylvain when he really did bring it upon himself.” Shamir shook her head. “It’s foolish. You need to look after yourself.”

“If it means I get to see him sooner, it’s worth it,” was all Wren could say.

“I told you that you shouldn’t waste your time on him. He didn’t care if he got in more trouble. Maybe he acted the way he did knowing you’d beg for him.”

“I doubt that, Shamir. He’s pretty crafty, but it sounded more like he was upset Seteth thought so badly of him.”

“Hmm, you can’t be too sure with him,” was all Shamir said. “It’s your life, and I can’t tell you what to do. Pretty sure I’ve said this. Just think about it. You really are a smart girl. You can live the way you want, without having to lower yourself.”

Wren wasn’t sure how she could do that when everyone seemed bent on being an obstacle, but she didn’t argue. “I’ll think on that. It’s hard to do, but...maybe you’re right.”

“Just sleep well. You have class tomorrow and I think your next chore is to clean the kitchens right? Pretty arduous task considering the meal today was so greasy.”

Wren didn’t look forward to that, but she was familiar with greasy food and knew the way to clean it. “Okay. Thanks for escorting me.”

“Sort of my job now, but it isn’t too bad.” Shamir smiled at her. “Keep your nose clean, kid.”

Wren said good night and unlocked her door. She immediately fell into bed, buried her face in her pillow, and cried like she hadn’t in quite some time.

Chapter 6: Fortitude

Summary:

Wren fully realizes the extent of her feelings. Sylvain decides to take control of his life for once.

Notes:

Sonnets are fun to write, especially when they're spicy.

The next morning Wren woke up exhausted, but she was able to get ready for school despite the pain in her ass. Her braid was a bit messy but she forewent it and headed off to the dining hall for breakfast.

It was the Black Eagles’ turn and she sat with her normal group of Petra, Caspar, and Ferdinand. Dorothea gave her a dirty look as she sat close to Petra but Wren ignored her.

While Caspar was telling a lively tale of how he pursued a suspicious guy and Ferdinand nodding along, Wren placed the sonnet she wrote the night before in Petra’s lap. Petra grasped it and hid it in her bag.

“Thanks, Petra,” whispered Wren but Petra merely nodded and continued eating her food.

The bell rang for them to leave so they all put away their dishes and headed off to class. Petra managed to sneak the note to Sylvain without anyone noticing as the Blue Lions entered the dining hall. The Black Eagles waited outside the classroom once the bell rang again for classes to start and Byleth opened the door to let them all in.

Wren sat with Petra as Byleth prepared the lesson. Sometimes Petra taught her cute little Brigid proverbs just for fun. Today, Petra was writing one down.

“Oh, what’s today’s proverb?” Wren asked eagerly.

“I am thinking it is appropriate for your current circumstance.” Petra then began reading it out in her beautiful language. Wren felt transfixed. Petra repeated it until Wren got it down.

“So what’s it mean?”

Petra smiled warmly. “He who remains by my side has my heart.”

Wren blushed. “That’s...really cute.”

“I am in agreement.” Dorothea then decided to sit on Petra’s opposite side, giving Wren a look.

“What are you two up to?” she asked, and it came across as so bitter Wren grimaced.

Petra did not notice this. “Oh! I have been teaching Wren Brigid proverbs. She is liking them greatly.”

“Is that so? How cute.” Dorothea didn’t sound too interested, but she began talking to Petra, complimenting her braids and how hard she’s been working. Petra seemed to be engrossed in this so Wren didn’t interrupt. She looked at the proverb she had written down. Maybe one day she’d tell it to Sylvain once they saw each other again. He seemed very determined to stay with her and she really liked that.

As Wren contemplated on her future with Sylvain, the man himself was sitting near the back with Mercedes and Annette. Annette seemed very intent on taking notes and studying, but Sylvain and Mercedes were whispering fervently. Manuela was late again so they had time to kill.

“I got another note from Wren,” Sylvain said quietly. Annette was too busy with her work.

“Oh? Have you read it?” Mercedes asked.

“Not yet. I think I should wait on that. I have a feeling it’s...spicy.”

“Oh how delightful. I want to hear all about it if you’re willing.”

“Yeah… I don’t think Wren would mind. You two seem to get along, right?”

“Oh yes. She is very sweet and funny.”

Sylvain fingered the note he kept in his pocket. “I’m a bit concerned though...” He whispered.

“What’s on your mind, Sylvain?” Mercedes asked, concerned and kind.

“I just… Worry that she’ll get over me. Last night Seteth gave us...corporal punishment.” Sylvain shuddered. “I got out of it by being ridiculous but it pissed Seteth off and he said he’s going to add to my punishment. I feel like I let Wren down.”

“I don’t think so. I think she’d understand.”

“I don’t know… Seteth went on about how she had potential and I didn’t. She overheard it because I walked out and she looked so...sad.”

“I think she was probably more hurt that Seteth would say something so cruel to you. She really does like you, Sylvain.”

“Yeah… Well, I’ll find out from today’s note, right?”

Mercedes smiled, nodding. “Yep! It might be something really amazing.”

Sylvain took it out. “I think...” But then Manuela walked in, looking a bit harried.

“Alright class. I hate doing this, but class is dismissed for today. Something has...come up.” She looked exceedingly upset. “I don’t want to bother Hanneman again over this so feel free to use this as a free study hour. If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the infirmary.”

She’d be getting drunk in the infirmary, but that wasn’t anything new. Sylvain and Mercedes shared a look and grabbed their things. They left. Annette looked confused, but Mercedes told her to study. She had something to take care of but she’d see her at lunch. Annette smiled in her cheery way and went to sit with Felix, who had wanted to go train but upon seeing Annette approach him, sat back down, a happy expression on his face, or as happy as Felix could be.

Sylvain and Mercedes headed to the greenhouse because it was usually remote at this time and thankfully not even the keeper was there. They sat among the flowers and Sylvain pulled out the note.

“Alright Mercedes. The moment of truth.” She stayed by his side, not looking at the note, but rather watching Sylvain’s face.

I actually thought you would say fuck

He laughed hard at that. He had considered it, but wanted to surprise her.

Because it is in character for you

But your sonnet inside of me has struck

A feeling that is suddenly quite new

(That’s… really sweet.)

This better have not been a mean, cruel joke

An enemy you will have made of me

(Shit, she really will kick my ass.)

Your endless flirting will surely provoke

For now, I can only wait and then see

(Well, patience is a virtue I guess.)

To be fair, I do find you quite handsome

(So do other girls, so this isn’t unexpected. I am pretty hot...)

Even though your tongue is made of silver

(Okay that’s fair.)

Unfortunately, my heart is ransomed

The junction between my thighs does quiver

(I’m sorry… WHAT.)

Sylvain Jose Gautier played a trick

He made me crave his stupid, fucking dick

He stayed silent, absolutely stunned. She...she really wrote that? This was indeed her handwriting. Despite the constant flirting and seemingly exasperated sighs and complaints, she...really...craved...his dick? Sylvain wasn’t sure what to make of that. Wren released a curve shot and he didn’t know how to respond.

Mercedes watched the myriad of emotions that flitted across his face. “What...did she say?”

“Mercedes, you weren’t wrong… She...really likes me. Or, she’s teasing me. She isn’t above that, from what I’ve heard and experienced.”

“Well, how much would you say she likes you?”

Sylvain gulped, suddenly nervous when sexual innuendo wasn’t something that did that to him. But Wren… Someone who seemed immune to his charms finally was reciprocating? It excited him, but it seemed so out of character.

Then again, his mushy sonnet was the same way, so maybe she decided to have her turn at being the horny one. He couldn’t complain.

“She’s starting to show interest in me in that way. You know, the way I’ve been begging for.”

“So you’re saying she finally wants to be physical?”

“Yeah...” His voice wavered. “I’ve taken girls’ virginity before, but Wren is different. I feel pressured to do a good job should we finally get that far.”

Mercedes giggled. “Are you saying you haven’t before?”

“I mean, I give girls their money’s worth, so to speak,” Mercedes gave him a confused look. “They don’t actually pay me! It’s an expression. But… Yeah, I make sure they’re pleased, but sometimes I wonder if they really were? I mean, I leave them the next day, and some seem into that, thinking the chase will win me over, but I always rebuke it. I didn’t want that… Now… I kinda do.”

“Well, I think if Wren is really interested, she’ll be pleased because it was you. Sometimes the emotional attachment or engagement really helps. You click really well so I think it’ll be fine. Just wait for her signal. You’ll know and you’ll be ready.”

“Thanks Mercedes. But… I think she outdid me in terms of poetry. I have no way of answering this.” Sylvain read it over again. “I think I want to thank her, maybe send a crude drawing because I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of that.”

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy that. She’ll understand it means you’re happy with what she’s said.”

“Yeah. Let me compose one and then you’ll give it to her?”

“Of course! I love seeing your reactions.”

“Thanks.” Sylvain pulled out paper and a pen, thinking over what he wanted to say.

Wren,

You won. That sonnet made me feel… Well, it made me feel . I really don’t know what to say, but I wanted to express my gratitude for your words. I really needed this after last night. It shows you really care and I’ve never thought someone could do that for me.

You better make good on what you said though. You crave all of this? I’ll leave you begging for more if you’ll let me. Of course, no pressure. But when you’re ready, I will jump at the chance. I’ve been wanting this for a while, that’s no surprise, but I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.

I really think you’re wonderful. I’m not just saying that. So many people think I’m throwing out a line, and yeah, I typically do, but you’re different and I want to make you proud. I will do my best to see you. I’m sorry I got myself punished further, which will only make it more difficult to see each other, but I will keep writing notes to you until you’re sick of me.

You’re so cute and I just want to hold you in my arms. That’s not a lie. I hope you feel the same. (What am I saying? Of course you do. Why else would you respond in such a way?)

When we are able to reunite, I will kiss you breathless.

Think of me often, Sylvain

Sylvain read it over, feeling a little embarrassed he was being so sentimental. He wondered if Wren would like that. After being such a horny dog, suddenly being romantic could throw her off. Would she like that, or was she into the bad boy who only wanted her body? He wasn’t sure.

“Mercedes, I know I keep repeating myself, but do you think she really likes me?”

“Sylvain, if you’re this doubtful, maybe you should have a serious talk with her. Not through a note, but in person. And while that is a while from now, I think it will ease your worries and you will find comfort in that.”

He nodded. “Yeah…” He ruffled his hair in frustration. “Goddess, I wish I could talk to her now. This is so unfair. Why a month? That’s overkill.”

Mercedes agreed. “I think so too. Sometimes I think...the church pushes things. I love the goddess, but I don’t think she’d be so wrathful over two teenagers sneaking out. It’s not like there’s specific doctrine over that.”

He sighed. “Yeah… Well, here’s the note.” He handed it to her. “Wait, I wanted to draw something.” He looked at it. “Eh, never mind. I’m not much of an artist.”

“I’m sure she’d like the effort, but if you’re a bit insecure about it, then don’t push yourself.”

“Thanks. Here you go.” She took the note and hid it in her bag. “Get it to her when you can.”

“Of course, Sylvain. Please, rest, and find a way to unburden yourself from these thoughts. Just think of what’s to come and how happy you’ll be when you can hug her again.”

He blushed, but nodded. “I will. I think I’ll sit here for a bit before heading to the stables to clean.”

“Sure.” She got up. “You’re sweet, Sylvain. I’m sorry not many get to see this side of you. I am very honored you’ve shared this with me.”

“Of course. You’re better than most, Mercedes.”

She smiled and then left. Sylvain sat back on his hands, looking at the glass ceiling of the greenhouse, enjoying the warm sun. The flowers around him smelled so pleasant. Maybe he’d pick a few and leave them at Wren’s door. Would he get in trouble? If he didn’t leave a note saying they were from him, he wouldn’t see why he would.

He looked at a few and found a single red rose blooming. He carefully cut it away with shears he found, trimming the thorns. He managed to find a small glass vase and filled it with water, placing the rose inside it, and walked out, glad he was still alone.

He walked to Wren’s room, looking around to see no one was around. He left it at her doorstep, and quickly stepped away. He wished he could see her reaction but spying on her was obviously a big no-no. Being caught wasn’t worth it. Or maybe it was, but the sooner he saw her, the better. He’d be on his best behavior, hoping the probation would be lifted sooner.

He realized there were some exams coming up. Written and practical. If he did well on those… Maybe Seteth would see he wasn’t a lost cause. Wren would do well; she came across as incredibly intelligent, and he knew he wasn’t a complete idiot. He just acted like one.

Deciding he’d study his ass off, he went up to his room to study. Sylvain studying? Unheard of, but so was feeling strongly for a single girl.

For Wren, class had actually ended early, Byleth telling them what the next mission was and wanting them to train and study. She was insistent on them doing well.

Wren was very self-assured of her own abilities and decided she’d train later. She wanted to see if Sylvain had written a response and hoped to run into Mercedes.

As she walked to her room to drop off her books, she saw the glass vase with a single rose. She blushed, wondering if this was from Sylvain, or if perhaps it was another boy. Unlikely, but flattering all the same.

There wasn’t a note, so she was sure it was Sylvain. He probably didn’t want someone to tattle on him. She unlocked her door, taking the rose with her.

She placed it on her desk, smiling. She rarely received flowers, but she adored it. And a red rose! She knew flower language well enough to know this meant romantic love. This was surprising, but Sylvain’s last sonnet was incredibly romantic, and she realized maybe he was turning a new leaf. Maybe he intended to stay despite everyone else’s opinions.

There was a soft knock on her door. She opened it to see Mercedes.

“I heard class ended early for you so I decided to see if perhaps you went to your room. Glad I guessed right.”

“Yeah! Great intuition there.” Wren smiled conspiratorially. “So… You have a note?”

“Yes! Here you go. I was there when he composed it, but I didn’t read it. He seemed very surprised at your response and decided he’d write something a little more personal. I hope you like it. He really hopes so too.” She winked at Wren. “I think you’ve really captured him, Wren. I’ve never seen Sylvain so flustered.”

Wren felt pride swell within her. “I… I hope so. I don’t know what it is about him, but he’s very likable in my opinion. I don’t care what the others say. I think giving him this chance will be worth it.”

“And I want you to know, he really appreciates that. Anyway, I must be off! Annie wanted to bake later so we’re going to discuss what recipe we want to try.”

“Of course. Thanks again, Mercedes. You are so kind.”

“Sure! Enjoy the note!” She turned and left.

Wren shut the door and opened Sylvain’s letter. It was quite the letter and she found herself tearing up. Her heart fluttered and she felt her stomach turn. She hid her face in her hands, willing herself to not cry. Did she really have such an effect on him? Giving him a chance she knew was something he wanted, but he seemed so happy that she did. She also wanted to embrace him and not being able to do so right this moment was killing her.

“Sylvain, you’re so mean for making me feel this way.” She wiped the few tears that managed to slip out and went to write her own response.

Sylvain, you mushy bastard,

Your letter made me so incredibly happy. Glad to know I wrote the better poem (just kidding; yours were amazing too) and I’m also glad to receive your letter. I am so touched. I am so...grateful. The only thing I wanted was to give you a chance because it felt like no one else was willing to, and I don’t regret that for a moment. I knew you were a good person, and if others can’t see that, or rather refuse to, well, they are fools. I can see you have a soft heart, and that you simply want to be loved and cared for, and you need to know I am incredibly fond of you.

I do promise to make good on my words. You definitely make me feel things too, and I will definitely let you know when the time has come. I look forward to it, even if it makes me a little nervous.

You make my heart so warm. I want to kiss you breathless too. I want to lie in your arms and dream. I’ve never felt like this before and it’s scary, but it’s also gratifying.

I really hope to see you soon.

Yours, Wren

P.S. Oh, by the way, I may have talked Seteth out of prolonging your probation. You’re welcome ;)

P.P.S Petra told me a very sweet proverb in her language. When I see you, I will recite it. I think you’ll like it. Look forward to it.

P.P.P.S That rose better be from you. It was shocking, but also flattering. How risky it was to stop by my room to leave me such a sweet present.

She felt...very relieved to let those words out, but also vulnerable. He was clearly being honest, but goddess, it was so surprising but mollifying for a guy to send her such a letter. She was aware he left love letters to other girls, but from what she heard, they were always over the top, dramatic, and this one wasn’t at all. This...was real. This was a mutual thing. Maybe not a proper courtship, but this was two people expressing themselves in the hopes of progressing something wonderful.

For now, she could only daydream of their reunion.

As Wren lied in her bed daydreaming about Sylvain, ignoring her homework completely, Sylvain was studying his ass off. He read through so many books over the current lesson, over what he knew the exam would cover. Later, he’d train and he hoped Ingrid or Felix or even Dimitri would help him. Ashe was mostly proficient in the bow so he wasn’t the best choice, Dedue seemed to never need training since he was just a solid wall, and since Annette and Mercedes were primarily magic users, Sylvain felt wrong to ask them to take up a lance and have at him.

Once he felt he understood the fundamentals of the upcoming exam, he left his room to try and find one of his friends in the hopes they’d spar with him. On his way to the training grounds, he happened to see Ingrid leaving from the direction of the dining hall.

That girl sure loved to eat, but if she just ate, she was probably energized enough to spar a bit. She also used the lance so she was a very ideal training partner for him. He hailed her.

Ingrid turned, looking confused. “What’s up, Sylvain?”

“Hey, I know it’s weird of me, but do you think you could spar with me? I’ve been seriously thinking over everything and maybe I really should take school more seriously.”

Ingrid stared at him for a moment and then reached up to feel his forehead. “Well, you don’t have a fever. Did you fall and hit your head? The Sylvain I know avoids training at all costs.”

“Yeah, I know that Sylvain and he retired! The new Sylvain wants to work hard!”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re doing this to try and get out of probation so you can see that girl again, aren’t you?”

Sylvain tried to dissuade that notion. “Nope! I really do want to train! That exam is coming up and I know there’s a practical part of it. Should probably improve on my form, you know?”

Ingrid shook her head. “I won’t refuse you, since I’ve wanted you to admit that for so long, but I won’t go easy. You do alright on our missions, but the rest of us are leagues above you.”

Sylvain disagreed playfully. “I doubt I’m that bad. You’ll see.”

“I suppose I will.” She gestured for him to follow her so he did.

They entered the training grounds to find Felix practicing motions of classic swordplay. Dimitri was repairing a lance he clearly broke. Sylvain laughed and Ingrid rolled her eyes. Her friends were so predictable. Except in this moment, Sylvain wasn’t. Would he really push himself? She was about to find out.

“Alright Sylvain, grab a lance and let’s get to it.”

“Probably should do some warm-ups first right?” he asked.

“Yes. Just a few short ones. I really want to gauge your prowess.”

Sylvain and Ingrid stretched, did a few small jumps to warm up their bodies, and then took up arms. They faced each other and even Felix and Dimitri stopped what they were doing to witness pigs flying.

“Sylvain?! What happened to you? Did you lose a bet?” Dimitri asked in utter disbelief.

“Are you just trying to impress a girl later on?” Felix said bitingly as he rolled his eyes. “Your motivations are always the same after all.”

“Nope! I want to do well on our next exam! Time to finally be serious.”

Felix took in those words. “Huh. Took you long enough.”

Ingrid then lunged and Sylvain dodged. She turned to strike again and he parried. She thrust and he defended. He then turned the tables and went through offensive maneuvers and she found herself on the defensive.

“Sylvain, you’re actually not bad.” Ingrid had to admit. Their other classmates just stared in disbelief.

“Told you!” He swept low to try and trip her, but she dodged perfectly. He took a second too long to recover and she managed to disarm him.

“Shit! I almost had you.” Sylvain cursed.

“Hmm, I don’t think so, but you definitely did a good job. Shall we have another go?”

“Yeah of course. That’s why I’m here!”

Felix stood between them. “No. I want a turn.”

Sylvain felt a little dread because Felix was almost unnecessarily aggressive. Ingrid only nodded.

“Fair enough! It’ll be good for him to have experience against a sword user!”

Felix took a stance and Sylvain grabbed the lost lance. On Ingrid’s signal, they charged forward.

Using a lance gave Sylvain a small advantage. He could keep Felix at bay, but Felix was also unbelievably fast so Sylvain found it difficult to parry and dodge. Sylvain was probably slightly physically stronger than Felix, but with his speed, Felix could easily deal twice the damage as even Dimitri. But Dimitri was...well, Felix insisted he was actually a boar in battle, but neither of the other classmates saw that at all.

This sparring session took less time than against Ingrid because Felix had managed to avoid all of Sylvain’s swings and got into his personal space, his blade on his best friend’s throat.

“Goddess, Felix, what the fuck...”

“You’re too slow. But I suppose it’s good you’ve decided to train with us. We’ll get you up to speed.”

“Yeah, that’s the point! Let’s go again?”

Felix nodded. “I’ll help you with your footwork. Using a lance makes you a bit slower, but that is what you’re most proficient in, so we’ll keep you there. I’ll show you the most efficient way to use your weapon fluidly so there won’t be any breaks in your attacks.”

Felix was rarely so helpful, but Sylvain would take it. “Thanks man. I appreciate it.”

Felix did glare before flourishing his sword. “But I swear if this is only to impress that girl...”

“Felix, I’m not even allowed to see her, so how could I even impress her?”

Felix chewed his lip. “You’d find a way.”

Well, Felix was not wrong in that regard, but Sylvain had no intention of getting himself further in trouble. Hopefully Wren would write another note and he’d read that and then sleep peacefully.

He ended up spending the rest of his afternoon and evening training with Felix. Ingrid had decided to finally retire, and Dimitri wanted to help, but Felix had gotten weirdly possessive of Sylvain’s progress, so Dimitri backed off and did his own thing.

When Sylvain felt like he couldn’t anymore, when he realized he was desperate for a lot of water and a hot shower, he finally called it.

Felix rolled his eyes. “You’ve barely progressed.”

“Felix, that’s a lie and you know it,” Sylvain panted. “I’ve already gotten faster and I’ve gotten better at blocking and parrying your blows. We can do more tomorrow. Please. I am exhausted.”

“Ugh, fine. But first thing tomorrow. After class. You and I will continue training. If you want to do so well on this ‘exam’ after all.” Felix then sauntered away.

Sylvain didn’t like how there were air quotes around ‘exam,’ but he chose to ignore it. He didn’t want Felix to get the wrong idea.

He went back to his room to grab spare clothes and his bathing stuff when he saw Petra sliding something under his door. She turned around and gasped.

“Oh! I was not seeing you there, Sylvain! I was hearing… Ah, have heard you were out training, so I was thinking I could surprise you with...”

“I got you, Petra. Thanks.” Sylvain smiled, genuinely for once. “You don’t have to stick around. If I need to send a message, I’ll find you or Mercedes. Have a good night.”

“I will!” Petra bowed politely and walked off.

Sylvain went into his room, picking up the letter Petra had slid under his door. He decided he’d read it after a shower, despite wanting to do so now. It was something he wanted to savor, and think about as he fell asleep.

He went off to the showers, cleaned himself up, and hurried back to his room. The suspense was killing him.

He locked the door behind him, throwing his things to the side and grabbed the note from his desk, flopping onto his bed as he eagerly opened it.

Sylvain never thought he would ever feel butterflies in his stomach. He loved hitting on girls. He had no problem putting himself out there. He was never nervous. Well, typically he wasn’t. Sometimes people could get the better of him, but it was rare. Wren’s note though… Goddess, he felt himself swell with...something! She had gotten him out of trouble for his deplorable act? There was a sweet proverb she wanted to share? She knew the rose was from him? She called him a mushy bastard? All things Sylvain didn’t realize he lived for.

She liked him. She wanted this to progress in the direction he was begging for, but instead of feeling like he won, he felt like he had gained something precious. It was very weird for him. He made her feel warm and happy. She thought his knowingly terrible poems good. She thought he was good. Sylvain had felt so accepted just from reading her response. He wanted to rush down the stairs and fling himself into her room and hold her for the entire night. He couldn’t, and that drove him mad.

He had to do well on these exams. The professors and administration had to see he was worth something and that he deserved to be free, that he deserved to be with this girl who opened him up to something he didn’t think he’d ever be willing to. He hoped she thought the same.

Chapter 7: Reunited

Summary:

Sylvain and Wren's hard work pays off. They celebrate with tea, scones, and porn.

Notes:

Hear ye, hear ye, it's that time of year again where I will be working at the renaissance festival. I've got about 14 chapters written so far, so I should be good for the next few weeks for posting, but working two jobs is going to be so exhausting. I'm definitely determined to relax as much as possible and sleep at a reasonable hour. Anyway, lift up thy cares! Huzzah!

(The Archive is going through maintenance tomorrow so I'm posting a day early)

The exams had finally come up. Sylvain had spent the past two weeks training as hard as he could, studying until he memorized every formula and maneuver. He kept his nose to the grindstone and put in the work.

Wren had done the same, despite feeling a bit distracted. But she knew she managed to do well. She had always been a strong test taker.

The practical came up and each class had their own time with their professors and other test proctors. Wren’s sword prowess had increased exponentially, but Byleth did tell her that her method was still mercurial and that she should focus more on traditional techniques and implement them in her own way. It would make her more effective and solid and Wren took the criticism in stride.

Sylvain blew the practical out of the water. It was expected of the others, but Manuela and Jeralt, who was the proctor for that day, were absolutely floored at Sylvain’s progress. Manuela was proud and Jeralt was quite impressed.

“Seems like you’re finally taking this seriously, kid. Knew you had it in you,” he said. He patted the wayward student on the shoulder and Sylvain just nodded sheepishly.

The professors then graded and tallied scores, and then sent them off to Seteth who would change rankings and send reports to parents. When he got to Wren’s, he wasn’t surprised at her progress, but she still did well. In fact, her written exam was a perfect score. He was pleased to see that.

Then he got to Sylvain’s and Seteth actually made a noise of shock. Sylvain also scored perfectly and his practical exam was phenomenal. He didn’t know the young man could do so well, and realized he made an error when he said that Sylvain had no potential. He clearly did, when he applied himself.

And then Seteth realized that perhaps the probation had gone on long enough. It was clear they learned their lesson and… He could offer them that grace. The goddess would want him to.

So the next day, the free day, Seteth asked Shamir and Catherine to summon their wards.

Wren had wanted to sleep in, but around nine she found she couldn’t sleep anymore and had decided she’d just get dressed, wash her face, brush her teeth, go about her morning routine, and then maybe eat breakfast. Or read a dirty novel… It had been a while since she had done that…

But then a sharp knock was on her door and she opened it. She was glad she did indeed get dressed and make herself somewhat presentable because it was Shamir, and Shamir summoning her only meant Seteth was after something. Wren felt dread pool in her stomach, but Shamir merely nodded and indicated for Wren to follow. Wren shut and locked her door behind her and did so.

Likewise, a very sleepy Sylvain woke to Catherine practically punching his door. She loudly announced good morning to him and he quickly dressed. When he opened the door, she told him to get ready and then to follow her. He went through the motions of his typical morning and then followed Catherine to Seteth’s office.

Much like Wren, Sylvain felt dread. When he arrived with Catherine, he saw Wren had already entered the office, sitting pensively in a chair before Seteth’s desk. Seteth had paperwork in his hands.

That could literally be anything, Sylvain thought. Letters from our parents, formal expulsion notices, our test scores… I don’t think I like this.

He had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that doing well would mean he’d get out of probation and the extra chores, that Wren would too if she had done the same. After their two mushy letters, they kept it short, discrete. Wren sometimes drew little comics of them together. She drew one of them as cute fox people. (She made a pun about how he was foxy and he thought it was Alois levels of bad, but he found it endearing anyway.) He made mentions of his plan to do well so maybe Seteth would be impressed and end their punishment, and Wren had agreed, so they temporarily stopped exchanging notes so they could focus on that. Besides, if the payoff was that good, the pause in communication would not be that bad.

Seteth pointed to the chair next to Wren and Sylvain sat in it. He kept his back straight, gaze firm. He refrained from biting his lip or wringing his hands through his hair. Wren also looked pensive, stiff, sitting with her legs pressed tightly together, crossed at the ankles, spine ramrod straight. Much like when she first met him, her gaze betrayed nothing of her feelings. Her body language could be seen as professional, but knowing how casual she could be, this was someone who very much wanted this over with.

“Thank you both for coming. I know it’s a bit early in the day, at least, for Sunday, but I wanted to have this done quickly. That way, you could go on with the rest of your day.”

Sylvain thought that was an interesting statement, but didn’t say anything. Wren just nodded.

“Your professors have sent back your scores and I was, as it is my responsibility, changing the class rankings to be posted later. I got to yours and I must say I am impressed.” He looked to Wren. “Miss Aleo, your progress has always been good. You are clearly a strong student and your written exam made a perfect score. One of three in your class actually. And your practical was very well done too. Professor Byleth did say your technique has improved, although you did tend to take chances, but it was clear to her you were gaining a steady mind when it comes to battle.”

“Thank you, Seteth. I really did try my best,” Wren responded.

“And it showed. Thank you for that.” He turned his gaze to Sylvain. “Mr. Gautier...” Seteth looked at the next set of papers in his hands. “Your grades have actually never been bad, but it was always clear you were the type that didn’t try. You skate by on things you know people will accept, your looks or your Crest, rather than be true to yourself.” Sylvain wanted to retort but held his tongue. He did not want to ruin what he and Wren worked toward. “However, this time it was made clear you did in fact try. Your written exam was also perfect. Most everyone in your class did exceedingly well, so I wasn’t surprised by them at all. You however took my notice. And your practical… Again, it was expected of your classmates to do well, but you went above and beyond for your normal attempts. Your score was very high too.” Seteth set the papers down, nodding to himself. “I thought on it, and I did speak to the archbishop briefly about it, and I have decided that you have both learned your lesson and that from this day forth, you are no longer on probation.”

Wren and Sylvain gaped at Seteth. He looked confused. “I would expect you both to be happy, to even find yourselves in raucous cheering. Nothing?”

Wren just laughed nervously. “I suppose we’re both a bit surprised.”

“Yeah, Seteth, it’s not really like you to be so...merciful.” Sylvain leaned forward, elbows on knees, finally relaxed. It worked.

“I trust that you’ll understand in time I can be quite merciful. Two weeks was enough. You both did well. However, do not think you can go back to being delinquents.”

“Seteth, I don’t think I was ever a delinquent...”

“Miss Aleo, you went down a dark path very quickly. You very well could have been a delinquent. I like to think the church saved you from that life.”

Sneaking out...meant she was a delinquent… Then she had been a delinquent for quite some time! And she regretted none of it. It led her here after all.

Sylvain chuckled. “Yeah, I know I can sometimes be a bit on the delinquent side. Good to know I’m back on the straight and narrow.”

“Mr. Gautier, do not try and charm your way out of this. Understand I will not tolerate a repeated behavior. Absolutely no sneaking out or anything of that sort. You may leave for town during the accepted hours and you must be back by curfew. But no illicit activities are to be had. Understood?”

They both nodded.

“Wonderful. The knights and other faculty have been alerted already that you are off. Dining times will resume to their original hours, so all classes may mingle again. And with that, enjoy your day. Spend it however or with whomever you like.”

Sylvain and Wren got up simultaneously, bowing to Seteth. They left the office and proceeded to walk down the stairs. Sylvain had reached for Wren’s hand, but she mumbled, “Not yet,” so he kept his hands to himself until they were back on the first floor.

They paused at the foot of the stairs. They looked at each other and then Wren broke into a big smile. Loudly, they cheered, jumping, punching the air, and Wren even knelt down, throwing her head to the sky as she thanked her lucky stars that this hell was over.

Sylvain scooped her up in a celebratory hug, swinging her in a circle. Her arms were tight around his neck and then he realized she had wrapped her legs around his waist. He stopped, pinning her against the wall. She looked a bit surprised but just laughed, keeping her grip on his neck.

“Seteth did say we could spend the day however we liked...” and he may have ground his hips a little against her. She bit her lip.

“Hmm, let’s not do that yet.” Besides, this was the wrong time of month to even think about that, but she wasn’t going to say it. She let him go, but that mischievous gleam in her eye was back. “We just got out of it, so let’s be good today. We can always do ‘illicit activities’ later.” She winked.

Sylvain let her down, and she fixed her skirt. It had ridden quite a bit up and for a moment he thought he saw her panties but it was so brief it could have been a trick of lighting.

“Yeah, I guess...” He wouldn’t deny he was disappointed since she kept saying she’d keep to her word, but she also had said she’d let him know when she was ready. He could grant her that, obviously. He could wait.

She looked up at him and the way the sun caught her hair and eyes was magnificent. Bright and blue, like flowers in a field, or the ocean in summer. A soft vermilion gleam like the sunset, fiery and fierce. Sylvain found himself smiling.

“You okay?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’m a bit sick, you know?”

She looked confused. “Um, how are you sick?”

“Sick over you baby!” and he grabbed her, hugging her tight, her feet completely off the ground again.

She squealed in delight but beat her fists playfully against his back. “Don’t call me baby!”

He let her down, loudly laughing. “You know I won’t!”

She rolled her eyes. “One day, you’ll find a better nickname for me than ‘baby.’”

One day… So she saw this as going further than just a week? Just a moon? A semester? A school year? Did she see this as going further than even that? A lifetime? Sylvain suddenly found himself overwhelmed.

“Hey, now you really do look sick. How about we get some breakfast and discuss how we’ll spend our day, okay?” She grasped his hand. “Come on, you dork. Now you’re looking a little love sick.”

Well, she might not have been wrong…

She had started to lead him in the direction of the dining hall, but then he stopped her, pulling her back. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” She tilted her head and Sylvain thought she looked so cute. “I guess it must be important.”

“Yeah… But let’s find somewhere private, and then we can get breakfast, okay?”

“Sure!” So he led her to the pier, and they sat together on the edge. Wren had taken her boots and socks off so she could playfully dip her feet in the water. Harpstring Moon wasn’t always super hot, but it was starting to get that way.

Sylvain ended up doing the same, rolling up his pants legs, taking off his own boots and socks, and also dipped his feet in the water. For a moment they both sat that way, enjoying the sun, glad to be wearing the summer uniform because the idea of wearing that awful jacket would have made things so sweltering. Wren had to note that the beige pants of the boys’ summer uniform was very flattering on Sylvain’s long legs, but she wasn’t going to say that...yet.

He finally spoke up. “So...your poems...”

“Yeah? What about them?”

He leaned forward, hiding half his face in his hand. “They left me a bit confused.”

“I thought I was pretty clear in them. Which one had you confused?”

He shook his head, smiling at the memory of the racy sonnet. “The one where you said you ‘craved my stupid, fucking dick.’”

She shrieked in laughter. “Oh yeah! That one was fun to write! But I mean, that was pretty crystal clear???? Like, what part of ‘I want your dick’ did you not understand?”

“Um, well, whenever I try to initiate something, you kind of...pull back.”

Oh. Well. He wasn’t wrong.

“Oh, yeah, that would make sense...” She wasn’t sure how to say it. “I mean, it’s not like I’m not interested. I really did mean what I wrote. You definitely have me a little hot and bothered, if I’m being honest.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” He realized he might have sounded a bit pushy. “I’m not trying to pressure you. It’s just something that I know we’re both interested in, and I’m clearly ready, so I guess what I’m saying is… What will it take for you to be ready?” He raised his hands to show he was non-threatening. “I can really wait! Like, I get it. I’d be your first, but I promise you won’t regret it.”

She bit her lip. There was so much to think about. “At first, I wasn’t interested because I had just met you, and I didn’t want to be that kind of girl, you know? I knew immediately what you were after, so that was an instant turn off.”

“So what changed?” He stared at her, trying to read her face. All he saw was someone thinking a little too hard on this. It was just sex. There wasn’t much to think about. Not exactly a mentally stimulating activity. Well, maybe for some…

She looked into the sky. “I had an actual conversation with you and realized you were actually not a bad person and… I decided I wanted to give you a chance at being the kind of person I knew you could be. I really enjoyed talking to you, and I felt like we had a lot in common, so I figured, if I’m going to lose my virginity, it might as well be to someone who just gets it, you know what I mean?”

“Are we talking about how you and I hate Crests? And our families?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Oh. So, tragic backstory. That’s what it takes. Well, ladies do love a brooding man.”

She playfully punched him on the shoulder. “You are more than just a fictional trope!” She giggled. “But I mean, yeah…”

He let out a soft laugh. “Heh, well, so you do want to…?”

“I do! Please believe me, Sylvain, I am really interested in you, but like… I need to make myself ready. Hype myself up, you know? We were separated for like three weeks or whatever, and I did think about...sneaking out to find you, but obviously that would have made things worse. And now that we’re able to be together again...” She gently grasped his hand, but couldn’t make eye contact. “Not today. We just got out of trouble. But let’s spend the day together and I promise you I will let you know when I’m ready.”

“Man, you really have me whipped. I would normally just move on, but you’ve got me under some sort of spell. You’re sure you’re not some sort of enchantress?” He looked at her with a playful smirk, and she just shook her head. “I just...really like you. I don’t normally say that sort of thing.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve said ‘I love you’ to a million other girls. That’s what I hear, anyway.”

“Hah! You’re not wrong. But, I mean… You’re different. Really different. That’s not me trying to seduce you. I do think you’re special.”

“Hmm, I don’t know… What makes me different than some of your other conquests?”

He looked a bit hurt at that statement, but didn’t comment about it. “You’re not a conquest.”

“Sylvain, you desperately want to sleep with me. And like, I want to do the same, but I know you’re not exactly a one-woman kind of guy, so maybe that’s why I’m so reticent.” She looked a bit embarrassed. “I don’t really want to get married, not right now anyway, but I always figured the first person I’d sleep with would be someone I really cared about. Maybe that’s a bad way of going about it, but I kinda need that emotional connection. And I do feel something with you, but I’ll be honest: I don’t want to just be left alone the morning after. It’s disrespectful to me, someone who let you have me at my most vulnerable.”

He actually felt guilty. He knew he had done that to other girls, but they had been so easy. And Wren was keeping him on his toes, which only made him more determined. But now that he had gotten to know her, he didn’t want to upset her at all. If she really were to sleep with him, he’d have to give her his all. And he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that.

“That’s a fair point,” he admitted. “I guess when you told me you made out with strangers, I thought that meant you’d be into it. But you did say you pushed them away in the end.”

“They didn’t care about me, Sylvain. They just wanted my body, use me, discard me, and then I’d go home ashamed. I know myself. That’s exactly what would have happened.” She shrugged. “So I left them high and dry.”

“Yeah. That makes sense,” he said quietly. “You must really like me then, if you’re actually considering it.”

“Sylvain, I’ve made myself really clear. I like you quite a lot, you make my heart very warm, and you’re too fucking handsome.” She felt herself blushing but she knew she had to continue. “I really feel something between us, but if you don’t want to pursue something with me, something beyond a physical relationship, then I’m sorry. You’ll have to fuck some other girl.”

That was it. That was her ultimatum. Sylvain could refuse, leave her to find someone else to scratch that itch. He could lie, say he wants something, have her, and then leave. That was probably the worst case scenario. But best case, he would consider her words, decide she was worth it, and pursue something meaningful that could probably make him very happy. Something he hadn’t had before. Even if it didn’t last forever, the idea of at least dating for two months would make it somewhat worth it in her eyes. She just wanted to know if he was for real. If he really wanted to prove his worth, to prove he wasn’t as awful as others made him out to be, he needed to make a change. She just wasn’t sure if he was ready for that change.

He let her words roam his mind. He was horny and he could easily lie to get in her good graces and then her bed and move on with his life. But he had worked really hard to get out of this probation just to see her again. He sent her love poems. He went dancing with her. She talked to him like he was a person, not a studhorse, not a trophy. She wanted to know the real him and he knew she wasn’t lying. She wanted him to know the real her, and frankly, he did too.

Sylvain had often told himself he wouldn’t change his way of life. He’d use and abuse until he was forced into some unhappy marriage, have a bunch of Crest babies, grow old and miserable, pass on his title, and then die. Or, perhaps maybe he’d commit suicide at a later age realizing that way of life just wasn’t worth it, regretting not fighting for his own future, leaving his wife alone with their children, but it would be okay because she just liked the idea of comfort and she’d be handsomely rich thanks to his family legacy, no work or lineage of her own. It was such a callous way of living, but when one felt like there was no hope, one tossed aside the feelings of others.

He finally had the words.

“No, you’re right. I also think there is something between us. I’ve never felt that way before, yes I am telling the truth, and honestly? I do want to pursue something. I wouldn’t have worked this hard just to get to this moment if I didn’t think you were great. I mean, you’ve shown me a side of you that the others don’t know. A side that I really like. And the you before me? She’s pretty great too.”

She stared into his eyes, trying to find some sort of tell. He seemed pretty genuine, but she knew his reputation for lying was abundant, very well known, and she felt herself second guessing him. But that was the point of a second chance: you had to take a gamble and believe. And she believed in Sylvain.

“I’m glad to hear it.” She bent forward and kissed him. “You’re great too, Sylvain. I want you to see that.”

“Hey, I know I’m great,” but the way he said it was merely to play along. His words rang hollow. She could tell he didn’t see himself that way. “I’ll show you how great I am.” He pulled her closer and kissed her back. It was a very intimate kiss, and his arms around her waist, so warm and strong, had her wondering if maybe she should just get it all over with despite this time of the month, but she figured Sylvain probably deserved better than that. Her arms wound their way around his chest and she felt total peace of mind.

He finally pulled away and she felt breathless. “Hey, I kissed you breathless after all.”

She hid her face in his chest, laughing. “Haha, you did.” She looked up at him. “My turn.”

She pounced and Sylvain had to admit he liked it when girls got a little aggressive. He was so used to playing the charming, chivalrous man helping helpless girls, so when one showed just how interested she was, he had to admit it was hot. Plain missionary sex was fine and all, but if he could somehow get something a bit kinkier, he was all for it.

He found himself leaning back as she started to hover over him, but then she had gently pushed him to his back, pulling at his hair, his mouth opening to retort but she dove in and he found the wind knocked out of him. He held onto her as tightly as he could as she gave him a kiss he would never forget.

When she finally pulled away, and he saw how red her lips were, how content she looked, they heard someone clearing their throat. Sylvain sat up to turn around and saw that it was none other than Professor Byleth.

“I came here to fish,” she said simply. “I think you need to find somewhere a little more private if you wish to continue.”

“Ahaha, we were just finished.” Sylvain said, pulling his socks and boots on. “Sorry to bother you, Professor.”

“I’m not bothered. I’d just hate for you to get in trouble again.”

“Thanks,” Wren replied, pulling on her own socks and boots. “We’ll be on our way.”

“Okay. Have fun and please be safe. I doubt you’d want to have a Crest baby so soon.”

They knew it was meant to be a joke, but the idea was so horrific to them they scattered immediately.

“Breakfast?” Wren asked as Sylvain led her away.

“Yeah, but let’s try another place. The town is open, so I’d like to take you to a teahouse I’m quite fond of.”

She giggled. “Is this our first real date?”

He paused and she nearly stumbled into him. “I mean, I guess technically it is.” He turned to her, smiling genuinely. “What’s the rule? We can fuck after the third date?”

She slapped his arm in jest. “Yes, I think that’s a rule among the common folk, not something a noble should pay attention to,” she rolled her eyes at that, “but yeah. Don’t think you can take me on three dates within three days just to get under my skirt. They have to be actual proper dates.”

“Oh, baby, I only know how to do proper dates!” He grabbed her hand again and winked, walking backwards to continue making eyes.

“Don’t call me baby!” but at this point that command held so little venom that it was practically a joke between them. He found he quite liked that.

He turned to start actually leading her out of the market and into the town of Garreg Mach proper. “Trust me, you’ll be begging me to call you baby soon.”

“You’re so nasty,” she said with mirth. “I’m kinda into it.”

He stopped to stare at her, eyes wide with surprise. “So, you like my flirting?”

“Pfft, yeah! I mean, you’re cheesy and it’s so over-the-top ridiculous, but it makes me laugh and isn’t that supposed to be some sort of aphrodisiac?” She shrugged. “I told you I liked your horny poems. You already know I like to read hornybooks.”

He did. “Well, it’s good to know I can be as dirty as I want then.”

“I’m sure there’s a limit, but you can keep saying awful pick-up lines to me. Or whatever you fancy. You’ll get it eventually.”

They started walking again, and Sylvain put on a show of desperation. “But I want it now, baby!”

“Don’t call me baby!” She found herself hanging off his arm trying to hold herself up. He was cracking her up.

“Oof, when we’re finally together, you’ll be begging for it.”

“Ah, so the tables will have turned. You, who are the beggar, becoming so attractive to my eye only to have me beg? Sylvain, how dirty of you.”

“Being dirty is what I’m good at.” He winked at her. “Here’s the place!”

It was a cozy little shop, wooden crates at the front full of seasonal flowers. There were tea pots and cups and blends displayed in the windows and upon walking in there was a cute chime. The inside was very warm, and it smelled heavenly. The counter also displayed various blends, even some pastries, and there were small tables spread throughout. There was a door that led to a patio with more seating. Even if Sylvain had taken dozens of girls here before, it was still incredibly cute. He had good taste.

The girl running the cash box had a blonde braid, freckles, and she wore a cute white apron with bears and bees embroidered along the edges. She looked up from organizing some of the blends at the counter and saw Sylvain. “Oh, it’s been a while.” She looked at Wren. “Brought another one, I see. What took you so long? I haven’t seen you in an entire moon.”

Sylvain chuckled, but the note in his voice told Wren he wasn’t pleased with this worker’s tone. “Well, I got myself into some trouble. Had detention, probation, you know. Had to keep my nose clean so I could finally get out again.”

“Trouble, huh? So you finally knocked up a girl?”

Wren almost shrieked. The noise that came out of her was a strangled squawk held back with her lips tightly shut. Sylvain just cleared his throat, shaking his head as if he’d really love to tell this girl a piece of his mind, but he wanted to be polite in front of his date.

“No. Not that kind of trouble. I got caught sneaking out. No big deal.”

“Huh. Color me surprised.” She turned to Wren again. “I’ve seen this guy here too many times. Says a lot of the same lines to a lot of different girls. Goddess only knows who he snuck out with. You don’t want to be next.”

Sylvain was shocked that this worker had been so forthright with her words. Normally she just made the tea, took his gold, and went about her next task. Now that she was mouthing off… Goddess, did he give that sort of impression to everyone? He wasn’t surprised, and yet somehow was.

“Actually, I’m the girl he sneaked out with. It was my idea.” Wren said assuredly. “So really, it’s my fault we were put on probation.”

“I’m sorry, you wanted to sneak out with this guy? He’s such a mess though...”

“I don’t think that’s really your business to say. We’re just patrons in your cafe. What we do isn’t of your concern.” Wren stayed firm, glaring. Her grip tightened around Sylvain’s hand which told him she was nearing her limit of bullshit.

“Ah, you’re right. My apologies. What are we ordering today?” The spirit of customer service finally took over this cashier’s body and Sylvain was thankful for it.

“Well, what tea does my companion favor?” he asked in his normal flirty way.

Wren rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to act like that. I like the southern fruit blend personally.”

“Excellent!” He turned back to the cashier. “We’ll have a pot of that.”

The cashier nodded. “Any pastries to go with that?”

“Hmm, how about two blueberry scones?” He turned to Wren. “You like those?”

“Yes actually.” She smiled. “Good guess.”

“Heh, well, you know.” Why the hell was he suddenly nervous again…

It’s her damn smile. She’s so...stalwart. Nothing fazes her and it’s maddening.

Sylvain paid and they waited at a small table on the patio for their tea and pastries. When they were served, Sylvain made a show out of pouring it out properly and Wren just laughed at his antics.

“Excuse you, Wren, as someone who has invited you out, it is my duty to serve you first. This is basic tea etiquette.” But the tone of his voice indicated he was joking and acting a fool on purpose which made her laugh more.

“Goddess, you are so cheesy.” She took a bite of scone. “Good thing I like cheese.”

Sylvain suddenly wished he was the scone she bit into. Then he realized how...ill those thoughts were and simply served her a cup. “Well, I hope I am at least a fine cheese.”

“Only the finest for me,” she said with a wink. She waited for him to serve himself and then she sipped. “This is actually quite lovely.” She looked at her surroundings. The patio was very cute with a lattice fence, an herb garden, many flowers… She especially liked the hydrangea and azalea bushes.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s why I picked it,” he admitted.

“Well, you are definitely well known, if that encounter was any indication.” She said with a tight-lipped smile. “That really was a bit out of hand on her part.”

“Eh, I mean… I do bring a lot of girls here… It only makes sense she’d get sick of me.”

“It’s still not her business.” Wren shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I like being here with you.”

“Yeah...” He liked being here with her too, but it felt like everyone around him was expecting him to fail. He was so tired of having so many expectations on him. He was expected to do well in school because of his Crest, his noble title. He was expected to marry a girl, again because of his Crest, his noble title. He was apparently expected to fail with every girl because he had always pushed them away in the end. Not really failing when you had no intention of passing to begin with, but with Wren, he felt like maybe for once he had a chance. It felt weird to let himself be that open about it, but if she was as horny as him and really thought he was funny, if she really appreciated him for him, then he would do his best to pass with flying colors.

She was worth it. And he knew she thought he was worth it too. It was a foreign but welcomed feeling.

He was very quiet and Wren picked up on this. Maybe he was suddenly being shy or something, but he looked very content eating a scone, sipping tea. He’d look at her every now and again and a small smile graced his lips. Wren felt her heart race.

“Something wrong?” Sylvain finally asked. She had been doing the same, looking around and then landing her eyes back on him.

“No. Everything is just peachy.” She popped a piece of scone in her mouth, her chewing giving her a moment to think.

She really liked Sylvain and she knew that was going to be a problem. A very nice problem, but a problem all the same. They had gotten in a lot of trouble, to the point they were a bit infamous and a lot of students begrudged them of screwing up hours of the dining hall, among other things. Byleth had witnessed them kissing very fervently, Mercedes and Petra were aware they liked each other enough to send love poems, and to her knowledge his friends were a bit exasperated. The other faculty members probably were told to keep an eye on the two of them, which meant everything would be scrutinized. They could possibly get in trouble for just looking at each other wrong, but Wren felt like as long as she kept her grades up and didn’t get up to any funny business (or at least didn’t get caught), it would be okay. She figured Sylvain felt the same.

It felt like the world was judging them, but the only thing she could do was continue to be herself and follow her heart. And her heart was leading her to Sylvain.

They stared at each other a few moments more, simply enjoying the tea, the weather, each other’s presence. But Sylvain wasn’t much for quiet often so he had to finally speak. “You’re staring.”

She scoffed. “You’re staring too.”

“Yeah, because you’re so cute.”

She rolled her eyes. “You need new compliments.” She kept her gaze on him. “But...”

“But what?” He looked concerned.

“You’re pretty cute too, I guess. Especially with that crumb on your chin.”

Sylvain flinched, about to wipe it off, but Wren reached across the table and dusted it off for him. He found himself flustered.

“I… Why...” He couldn’t form words.

“Aww, look at you. So used to being the philanderer, only to find yourself being played like a fiddle by me.” She winked at him, sipping the last of her tea.

“How are you doing that?” he finally asked.

“How am I doing what?”

He shook his head. “Just… Look, I never lose my head around a girl, okay? They are almost always wrapped around my finger. It is both gratifying and kind of annoying. Girls are so easy for me. And you...aren’t.” He tapped his finger on his chin, leaning forward to stare at her deeply. “I’m...kinda going nuts over you.”

She was caught off guard by that statement. “I’m only being myself, Sylvain. I’m not some sort of sycophant. I never have been. Those girls are just looking for an easy life. Or they’re naïve. You’ve said as much.”

“Yeah… I have.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I’m super experienced in anything, which you of course know, but I’ve definitely seen a bit of the real world so I guess it gives me a very different perspective than others.”

“Yeah… You’re a noble, but you kinda act like a commoner. Not that it’s a bad thing. You’re just more approachable I guess.”

“Wish Dorothea saw that. She thinks I’m manipulating people.” Wren had an annoyed look on her face.

Sylvain chuckled. “Which is funny because she’s the manipulative one. You’re like the inverse of each other.”

“I guess.” Midday was approaching and Wren felt herself getting a bit antsy. She wanted to move.

“You wanna walk somewhere or go back to the monastery?” Then it hit her. “Oh! Maybe Tomas has some new books in the library! You wanna check?” She had a devilish grin on her face.

“Wait… We’re talking about those kinds of books right?” Sylvain asked, mirroring her expression.

“Of course!” She got out of her seat. “Wait, do we need to put up the dishes?”

“No, they’ll take care of it.” Sylvain shrugged, also getting up. “Let’s head to the library.”

So the twosome headed in the direction of the monastery. The walk to the library felt like an entire adventure through Fódlan, walking miles and miles, up stairs, down halls, passing by people of all sorts, but finally they reached the second floor and passed the offices to walk down the corridor that led to the library.

The library was mostly empty, save for Linhardt who seemed intent on studying some tome, and Tomas who was organizing a shelf. Wren approached him.

“Hey Tomas! It’s been a while.”

He turned, grinning. “Ah, Wren! I take it you’re here for another batch of colorful novels?”

She giggled. “Of course!”

He turned to Sylvain, eyeing him. “I know of your companion… I’m sure he’d enjoy these books too.”

“He is very aware of this hobby of mine.” She turned to Sylvain, smiling. “I’m sure we’ll find something that tickles your fancy.”

Sylvain felt a rush going through him. Was she insinuating they’d get some sort of...inspiration from a novel? He wasn’t offended and he loved literature of all sorts. It could be especially inspiring. But kinky stuff? It wasn’t something he considered before. Seteth was pretty thorough when it came to finding all the good sex books that probably helped couples everywhere. Sylvain managed to find one, but many pages were missing, and someone had taken it from him to bring it back to Abyss. Sylvain was tempted to go down there himself to see if he could find other naughty books. He was a horny teenage boy and desperate for relief.

“Haha, sure we will.” Sylvain just looked at Tomas. “How do you find these books anyway?”

“Ah, that is mostly a secret, but sometimes Abyssians will bring things up. I’ve managed to hide many from Seteth over the years.”

“Damn, Tomas. That’s hardcore.”

Tomas shook his head. “I do not like censorship, even if it’s merely porn. Anything lost to history is a crime and as a librarian, it is my sacred duty to ensure nothing is lost to history.” His face turned into a glower. “Seteth makes that very hard.”

Wren didn’t like that face, but she understood it all the same. “Yeah, I think it’s pretty fucked up honestly. Like, what are they afraid of? A sexual revolution? Why not transport the books to some other library if they’re so afraid of the students finding them?”

“I don’t think it’s so much the students finding them as it is the ideas that are held within these books. Autonomy… The church...” Tomas shook his head. “Ah, that isn’t something to discuss out loud.”

Wren heard him loud and clear though. “No, I understand you completely.”

Sylvain did too. He felt like he had little autonomy, but was the church really the cause of that? It did enforce the Crest system...and punished anyone who questioned it. Sylvain wondered if that was why their punishment had been so severe. Two students choosing how to spend their evening, rather than be good little children of Seiros and saying their prayers before turning in for the night.

Things were becoming a bit clearer, but Sylvain didn’t want to say anything yet.

“Well, I do have a couple books for you. I see you don’t have your bag on you, and you don’t have your jackets...so I hope you’ll find a way to hide them.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” Sylvain said with a wink. “Just bring me the books.”

“Of course.” Tomas went to a shelf that had a secret compartment in it. Wren was aware of this compartment and now Sylvain was privy to it.

“Damn, that’s so sneaky. I love it,” Sylvain admitted.

Tomas brought them two books. “Come by anytime to find more.”

Sylvain took the books, unbuttoned his shirt and tucked them inside. When he buttoned it back up, it looked like he had two very square pecs.

“Sylvain, that is so not going to work.” Wren couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my goodness, you are ridiculous.”

“What do you propose then?” he asked. Tomas was just shocked at this exchange.

“I’ll tuck them into my shirt. I’ve got boobs after all. Bras are great for hiding things.”

The idea of Wren purposely tucking books into her bra in front of him was a sight Sylvain desperately needed that day. He caught a glimpse of her panties, and now he’d get to possibly see her bra. The goddess was so generous yet cruel. He wanted to see the full picture but was only given snippets.

“If you’re sure...” Sylvain said, trying to hide how very interested he was in this potential display. Tomas simply nodded, wished them luck, and went back to organizing a shelf.

Wren looked around. Linhardt was still devouring that tome, so she quickly unbuttoned her shirt to tuck in the two books. They weren’t super big so it was fine, but Sylvain really did get a glimpse of her bra and it went straight to his groin.

“Sylvain, please, you’ve seen girls’ bras before,” Wren admonished as she buttoned her shirt back up. The books were tucked safely into her bra and it wasn’t obvious they were there.

“Wren, I am begging you, when we get back to your dorm, can I please be the one to remove them from your bra?” He had grabbed her hands, looking crazed.

“You just want to grope me.”

“Yes, I do. Please. I promise I won’t take it farther. I just...really want to touch you.”

She found herself nervous at that statement, but also flattered. It shouldn’t have been flattering, people in the past during her wild times back home had tried their luck, but somehow with Sylvain… It felt right. She did want him to touch her, so they might as well start slow.

“You’re only going to touch that area, okay? If you take it too far, I’ll kick you.”

“I promise I won’t. Just a little squeeze is all I need.”

She rolled her eyes as they left the library. “Maybe for now, but you’re just going to want more later.”

“We’ve already established this. You wanna fuck me, I wanna fuck you. It’s going to happen, just not yet.” He sighed. “This will be a teaser. An appetizer if you will. Soon, we’ll have a full course dinner, and only then will I be satisfied.”

She glared at him, but it had little bite, mostly annoyed. “I hope you intend to have many dinners with me, and not just flee after one meal.”

“I promised you I would. The dinner is going to be quite filling, and I’ll only want more.”

She knew this was a line. She felt in her gut that he would flee and she’d have wasted her time, but she was having fun now, so maybe it would have been worth it. She wanted to believe him, and she was placing a lot of faith in someone no one else had faith in. She was making a leap, and she was hoping she’d land in his arms, not in a cavern.

“Alright, well, let’s get back to my room quickly.”

They walked as quickly as they could down the corridor. The hall of offices was the next obstacle. It seemed Manuela was in the infirmary doing whatever, Hanneman was studying Crests as always, Jeralt wasn’t in the captain’s office, and Seteth wasn’t in his, which meant he was in the antechamber with Lady Rhea. If they hurried, they’d miss them completely.

They raced down the stairs, desperate to not be caught. When they reached the bottom and continued to hustle, a few people did give them a look, but they ignored it and kept walking. Wren could feel adrenaline rush through her. Sylvain just felt the normal hormones.

They finally got back to her room and she opened the door, leading him inside. She shut it, locked it, and Sylvain looked at her expectantly. She stared at the floor for a moment, eyes wide as she thought I am really about to let this happen.

She took a breath. “Okay, Sylvain. Go for it.”

“Hey, I’m not a total pig. Sit on the bed first. I want you to be comfortable.”

She knew he wanted to get her aroused so they’d go further, but whatever. She wasn’t about to let that happen. She sat anyway, and Sylvain pushed her to her back, her head on her pillows.

“Sylvain...” she warned.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She bit her lip as he straddled her waist (oh god damn it I’ve made a mistake) and began to slowly unbutton her shirt. When he got to her waist, where the shirt was tucked into her skirt, he stopped, opening it fully to reveal her chest.

Her bra was actually quite nice. Sylvain had seen many in his life but he decided he liked this one best. Or perhaps he only felt this way because this was the first time he had actually looked at one in detail. It had the normal padded cups, but the outside had lacey embroidery of leaves and flowers. It was white and it fit her quite nicely. Then he honed in on the books and his hands gently moved each cup to take the books out.

He took his sweet time, Wren decided. As one hand removed a book, the other groped her. He was being very gentle though and she had to admit it felt really nice. He was about to move the bra down her chest to expose her but she immediately crossed her arms.

“And that’s that for today!” she said as she sat up. Sylvain was still in her lap and he looked a little crestfallen.

“Please, Wren. Just a little more.”

She took a moment to consider it. “Okay. But over the fabric. You’re not touching me under yet.”

Because I’d probably lose it and I can’t have that happen yet.

Sylvain desperately wanted to feel every part of her breasts but he agreed. “Alright. That’s reasonable.”

She straightened her back, rolling her shoulders backwards to puff her chest out a bit.

Sylvain then tilted her head up to him and he kissed her. She squeaked and then she felt his hands at her breasts, massaging them nicely. She felt herself quivering and she felt warm all over, but she had to keep her wits about her. She put herself in a precarious position and only hoped he wouldn’t push this too far.

But he kept to his word, fondling her over her bra and she was actually very happy. Her mouth was glued to his and she wanted to moan, to squeal when he squeezed just right, but she felt embarrassed to let him know he had that sort of effect on her.

He finally pulled away and saw how pleased her face was. “You enjoyed that.”

“Um, I did.” She really wanted him to continue, but if he did, they’d just end up having sex. “I, ah, I wish I could let you take this further.”

He felt like it was finally about to happen. Despite her hesitance earlier, something changed. “Why won’t you let me?” he asked gently.

She kept her mouth firmly shut, staring at her hands. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“It can’t be. I’ve been with tons of girls. Nothing you say would be embarrassing.”

She felt like she should have questioned what ‘tons’ of girls meant, but this was Sylvain so she already knew. “I don’t think it’s something you’d want to hear...”

“Try me.”

Goddess, when he used that sort of tone, she felt like putty. Who knew she was into being bossed around? Or at least found it somewhat attractive.

She kept quiet, not looking him in the eye. He finally grasped her face so they’d make eye contact.

“Please tell me.”

She finally blurted it out. “I’m on my period!” She shut her eyes, feeling like she was twelve again.

Sylvain looked past her shoulder, everything dawning on him. “You know what, that’s a very valid reason for not wanting to have sex.”

“Y-yeah, it’d be...messy. And I feel like it should be...not messy.”

Sylvain laughed. “Well, sex can be pretty messy, but blood isn’t fun to mess with.”

“Do people even do that sort of thing? Have sex while on their period?”

Sylvain did not want to admit he may have done that before. “Uhh, well, yeah. Some are into it. Sometimes it happens by mistake. It’s not uncommon for a girl to just start her period mid-sex.”

“Oh my goddess that happened to you.” She looked horrified. “Oh crap I hope that doesn’t happen to me.”

Sylvain finally sat back on his haunches, off her. She kept her legs to the side, but her shirt was still open and Sylvain couldn’t help but stare. “I mean, sometimes girls bleed a bit, but that isn’t abnormal. It kinda happens when you have something in you for the first time.” He saw how horrified she looked. “But! That’s only if you’re not prepared enough! Lubricant really helps with that. And as long as you’re relaxed, it won’t hurt. Trust me on that.”

She marinated on that. “That makes sense. Less friction, less discomfort...” In the books she read, it never seemed like there was any problem. The characters fucked and it was wonderful. But sex in real life...was obviously nothing like the text she read.

“Yeah, and since you’re into me, you probably will have a great time. Just don’t freeze up and let me know if you’re uncomfortable. I might be an ass, but I hate hurting girls physically.”

She knew he hurt girls all the time. Broke their hearts. Shattered their dreams. He felt genuine in this moment, but she wondered if those other girls believed him too. One minute she really trusted Sylvain, saw him for what he was. And another, she remembered he was pretty terrible sometimes, and wondered if those old habits would creep back up.

He was fascinatingly complicated, and she found herself wanting to dive into his depths.

“Well, I trust you’ll treat me right.”

“Oh trust me, I will.” He winked. “So…” He saw the books he had discarded to the side. The whole point of this was to get those books in her room. “Do you want to read one of those?”

“You mean together?” she asked.

“Yeah. Reading side by side could be really fun. I don’t think I’ve ever really done that.”

She thought about it. “I would read side by side with my mom, but that was when I was learning to read. I haven’t read with a friend before.” And then she realized her mistake. “Er, well, maybe we’re not exactly friends.”

He shrugged it off. They weren’t friends, but they weren’t lovers...yet. “Well, let’s get to it.” He reached forward. “Let me fix your shirt.”

She stayed still as he buttoned her back up. Somehow, this was even more intimate than when he disrobed her. His hands radiated warmth and they were so big… She wanted to hold them forever.

When she was sufficiently buttoned up, he got off the bed. “So, do we read this outside in good lighting, or should we light some lamps and read in bed?”

Reading in bed would only lead to more shenanigans, but reading in broad daylight could incriminate them. She decided she’d take a risk. “Outside. I think reading under a tree, sitting side by side, a gentle breeze on our faces, would be really nice.”

“Hmm, okay.” He looked around. “Do you have a notebook or some sort of cover we can hide it in so it’s not obvious we’re reading porn?”

“Oh! Yes!” She went to grab her planner from a drawer and slipped off the leather cover. “This will work.”

He slid the book inside the cover and it fit very nicely. “Perfect. Well, milady? Let’s be off.”

They walked out of her room and went to find a nice tree they could sit under and enjoy their porn.

Chapter 8: From Wonderful to Terrible

Summary:

Sylvain and Wren read the dirty book, only for Sylvain to put his foot in his mouth at dinner.

Notes:

I told myself I'd update every Thursday and here I am, forgetting to post last week. I'll be going to a friend's this Thursday and she has good internet so I'll (hopefully) remember to post then! Please enjoy!

There was a nice, large oak not too far from the monastery itself and they situated themselves under it. They fit just perfectly among the roots. They were flush against each other, hips and thighs squished but it felt so intimate. So nice. Sylvain opened the book in his lap, wrapping his right arm around her waist to pull her even closer. She was tucked under his armpit, able to rest her head on his chest if she wanted to. She kept her hands to herself but Sylvain probably wouldn’t mind if she placed her hand on his thigh. Perhaps not yet though.

“So, I’ll hold the book and you turn the page. Sound good?” he suggested.

“Yeah that’s how I figured we’d do this.”

So in silence, they began to read. Sylvain turned out to be quite a fast reader, just as fast as her, so it wasn’t like she had to wait five years for him to finish a page. He was clearly smarter than how he presented himself. He’d tap a finger on her waist to let her know she could turn a page and almost immediately after she did because she had just finished too.

The story Tomas had given them was very vivid and detailed. It was also a quick burn. There was an exposition, backgrounds of the couple, them meeting, and then it almost immediately progressed to sex. And it wasn’t just them instantly fucking; this author had written probably some of the best foreplay Wren had ever read. It was pages. And with each flick of the dominant partner’s tongue, Wren felt herself quiver, imagining that treatment on herself. With every flick of the wrist, every soft moan, every kiss, every lick, suck, caress, she wanted to just rip her clothes off and have Sylvain take her there. But they were under a tree outside, other students and clergy meandering around, so they couldn’t have too much fun.

But Wren found herself closing her thighs even tighter than they already were. When she wasn’t turning a page, her right hand was clutching the hem of her skirt. Her other hand found itself on Sylvain’s thigh and she definitely squeezed it once the actual penetration started to happen. This was super steamy and reading it alongside someone she wanted to do these things with… Well, this was foreplay in itself.

Sylvain was not complaining on Wren’s reaction. When she squeezed his thigh, he yelled out a celebratory YES in his head. He found himself holding her closer. He was biting his lip, trying not to chuckle or make some sort of noise that indicated he liked her touching him. Likewise, she also kept her mouth clamped shut.

Wren had never had this sort of reaction to smut before, but she had also never read it with another person before, and that was the differing factor.

The act seemed to go on forever, and goddess it was satisfying, but Wren wasn’t sure if she could read to the finish. There was still a good quarter of the book left and she couldn’t imagine what happened after they climaxed. She finally gasped.

“Sylvain, I don’t think I can finish this.”

He stopped reading, looking at her with concern. “Something wrong?”

She didn’t want to say she was now super, incredibly horny, aroused beyond all measure. If she kept this up, she’d probably blow him herself and maybe even let him go at it despite the mess that was sure to happen.

“Um, this is, like, super fucking hot. And I need to stop or I might make a bad choice.”

“Ah.” The fake cover they used had a ribbon to mark their place. He shut the book and looked at her. “Do you...need to relieve yourself or…?”

“I...” Goddess she needed to get this out of her, but… Ew.

Sylvain analyzed her. She obviously wanted an orgasm. Her face was so flushed, he could see her fidgeting. Her eyes had the look of someone desperate for pleasure.

“You know, there’s a way for you to come without me touching your pu-”

“Hmmm, let’s not say that.” she interrupted. “It is very appreciated you’d want to, ah, help me, but I think I’m going to go back to my room and work on some homework to try and make myself less horny.”

Sylvain laughed. “Yeah, nothing less sexy than homework.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I’m sure there is someone out there who uses homework as foreplay, but I am not one, and I know you aren’t either.”

“For me, anything can be foreplay,” Sylvain admitted.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t need foreplay. You’re probably always horny, right?”

He winked at her, giving her a thumbs up. “You got that right, baby.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me baby.” She looked at him, liking how the sun filtered through the tree leaves and dappling his hair in various shades or red and orange. He was like the perfect autumnal piece.

Goddess, he was so handsome. Picturesque. And he liked her and it was embarrassing and gratifying.

“Anyway, I really am going to go back to my room. Dinner will be in a bit and I need to decompress so I don’t lose it.”

Sylvain nodded, getting up and helping her stand. “Sure.”

She noted the sound of disappointment in his voice and almost felt bad, but he could wait. He said he would. He had better.

“I really enjoyed this outing with you today,” she said as they walked back. They weren’t touching, just walking back like two good students, and something about that was sad.

“Yeah, me too.” When they approached her door, he grasped her shoulder. “I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

“Sure! I look forward to it.” She smiled and Sylvain felt the world stop for a minute.

“Cool.” He bent down to kiss her cheek and he was gone.

Wren clutched the dirty book close to her chest, suddenly feeling giddy. Odds were he was playing her, even if he said he wouldn’t, but the idea of someone like him giving her the time of day, despite knowing she wasn’t his normal fare, felt really good. She wondered how far this could go.

She did end up going into her room and going over some homework. She was a bit distracted but at least something got done.

When it was nearing dinner time, Wren headed to the dining hall. Caspar and Linhardt were in line and Wren joined them. Not even twenty seconds after, Sylvain was there too.

“Oh, look who it is. Our favorite local delinquents,” Linhardt drawled. “Tell me, what was it that Tomas handed you? You know, the thing you stuffed down your shirt?”

Wren’s stomach hit her throat and Sylvain just smiled, but it didn’t reach the rest of his face. Both of them had no response to that.

“Wait, what did you do?” Caspar asked. “Oh man, did you find something juicy!”

“Um, Linhardt, I could have sworn you weren’t even paying attention.” Wren admitted.

“Oh, I was definitely into my research, but I have ears and you two weren’t exactly quiet. I got the tail end of you unbuttoning your shirt in the library to stuff two things in and button it back up. Sylvain certainly looked pleased.”

“You’ve gotta tell us!” Caspar practically yelled.

Wren shook her head. “It’s a secret.”

“Oh, I know Tomas sneaks out books that Seteth likes to destroy. Very annoying of him. I’m thankful for Tomas. He sometimes finds things for me too,” Linhardt revealed. “I can only imagine what he would give you...and for you to bring Sylvain… Huh, must be porn.”

Wren wanted to screech and Sylvain only laughed. That was all they would say to confirm.

“Well, it’s your life. Porn doesn’t hold too much of my interest, but I’ve read quite a few.”

Caspar turned to Linhardt, shocked. “You read porn?”

Linhardt shrugged it off. “I read everything.”

Wren and Sylvain just looked at each other, pretending this exchange didn’t happen. The conversation turned to how each spent their day. Wren just said she and Sylvain talked, went to get breakfast, and read their little discovery.

“You read it together? That’s interesting foreplay,” Linhardt deadpanned. “But it was probably successful. Although I’m sure you,” and he stared pointedly at Sylvain, “have no problem getting off.”

“Hey hey hey now, no reason to say that.” Sylvain leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. “I was just intrigued. It was really good.”

“Oh? How did it end?”

Sylvain had no words. They didn’t reach the end.

“Eh, they climaxed and moved on with their lives.”

Linhardt raised a brow. “You don’t sound very confident in that.” He looked between the two. “Bet you went to blow off some steam,” was how he put it and Wren just smiled sheepishly, shaking her head. Sylvain shrugged.

“You guys just got off probation though,” Caspar said. “Man, you two sure are rebels.”

“Nothing happened and that’s the truth,” Wren admitted. No reason to admit that Sylvain did get a handful of boob prior to reading. “We just sat under a tree and read...porn. I don’t want that to get out. I like my contraband, as some would say.”

“Of course not. Caspar, don’t tell anyone, okay?” Linhardt said to his best friend.

“Pfft, I’ll probably forget it by the end of dinner,” Caspar laughed.

He probably would. And that was a blessing.

They waited in line for a moment longer when Sylvain suddenly whacked her shoulder with the back of his hand. “Hey, didn’t you mention there was some proverb you wanted to tell me?”

Wren turned around, looking dumbfounded. “Did I?”

Caspar and Linhardt looked very interested in this. “When would you have told him, if not today?” Linhardt asked. “You two haven’t been in contact for the past three weeks...right?”

Wren wasn’t about to admit their little poem exchange. “It was earlier today but the book distracted us,” she lied. She thought for a moment. “Oh! Yeah, Petra sometimes tells me Brigid proverbs. She told me one that was really sweet.”

“Let’s hear it,” Sylvain replied, nodding. He had that look in his face, the one that dared her and set her blood on fire.

Wren tried to recall the words. She didn’t speak Brigid fluently at all, so it took her a minute. But she did finally recite it.

“Hmm, that sounds nice,” Linhardt said as if it was for him. “What does it mean?”

Wren laughed. “That’s for Sylvain to ask.”

“Okay, what does it mean?” Sylvain did finally ask.

Wren blushed. “Um, it means ‘he who stays by my side has my heart,’ or something like that.”

Linhardt and Caspar were silent as they watched Sylvain. Sylvain looked as if he were a stricken deer.

“Ah...” Sylvain looked at his feet, suddenly self-conscious. That was...really cute, and he wondered if that’s how Wren felt. If he stayed near her, then he had her heart? Was he even worth that? Was he worthy of her heart? She seemed to think so, but so did a lot of girls…

No. Those girls didn’t care about his heart. They cared about their standing in life and how he could improve that. Wren didn’t give a shit and liked his heart, as dark and muddy as it was.

“Sorry if it’s a bit much. It’s just something Petra told me,” Wren mumbled, looking away. It’s not like she felt that way. “She tells me a lot of proverbs.”

“Yeah...” Sylvain said, still thinking over the proverb. “It’s a really nice sentiment though. Something that should be said, you know? You should only like people who want to stay by you, no matter the circumstances.”

“Didn’t think you’d ever say something like that, truth be told,” Linhardt said as if this concerned him. “Didn’t think you liked anyone, to be frank.”

“Hey! I like people!” Sylvain said defensively.

Their place in line had them receiving their dinner. Linhardt still managed to say, “You don’t even seem to like your friends in the Blue Lions. Don’t they exasperate you?”

Sylvain received his dinner and looked at Linhardt, confused. “What do you mean?”

They all sat at a table. Caspar was really into eating but Wren was quiet and wanted to observe this conversation. She ate quietly.

“Well, I know Prince Dimitri often bemoans how incorrigible you are. I think I heard him reprimand you once about ‘carousing’ with women?”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “It was literally one girl and we didn’t even stay out that late.”

“Hmph, yeah, not like with Wren,” Caspar managed to say in between vigorous bites.

“Caspar, please eat with your mouth closed and only speak when your mouth isn’t full,” Linhardt scolded.

“Huh, now you’re reprimanding people. Whatever Linhardt.” Caspar laughed.

Linhardt rolled his eyes. “In any case, Dimitri has said as much. And I know your friend Felix isn’t a fan at all of your antics. He berates you, right?”

“Eh, sometimes. Felix mostly just says he thinks I waste my time and then stalks away to train. I try to get him to join me on dates, but he isn’t interested in any girls it seems.”

“Pretty sure he likes Annette,” Caspar said, mouth full again.

“Caspar please!”

“Shut up Linhardt.”

Wren finally piped up. “What do you mean he likes Annette?”

Caspar managed to swallow his dinner without choking. “I was walking by and they were in the greenhouse and she shrieked about how he was creeping on her singing and he said he liked it and she ran off super embarrassed.” Caspar shrugged. “That means he likes her, right?”

“Good job, Caspar. You get a cookie,” Linhardt said sarcastically.

“Cool! I love cookies!”

Sylvain thought on that a moment. “That’s a surprise honestly. And I’m kinda mad he wouldn’t tell me.”

Linhardt shrugged, nonplussed because he didn’t really care. “Well, that’s Felix. But your friend Ingrid...”

Sylvain scoffed. “Ingrid acts like she’s my mom, except my actual mom doesn’t care.”

“She does seem to be a bit too involved in what you do. Sure, you devastate every girl you meet and it looks very bad on your house, but ultimately that’s your problem, and possibly Dimitri’s as he’s the House Leader. Ingrid doesn’t have to butt in at all.” Linhardt then looked thoughtful. “Well, she does want to be a knight so maybe she thinks it’s her duty to help Dimitri...”

Sylvain decided he no longer wanted to be scrutinized. “Yeah, well, at the end, it’s my life and if I wanna screw it up or make everyone else miserable, well, that’s my prerogative, right?”

Linhardt nodded. “Of course. You should always do what you want to do. What’s the point of living if you can’t be yourself?”

“Is that why you nap all the time? It’s what you want to do?” Caspar joked.

Linhardt nodded, very seriously. “I may be the heir to my father’s role, but you know I don’t care for all that and would rather spend my days doing something I am actually interested in, like my own research or napping. After school, I’ll be groomed as his heir. I might as well do what I want now because I know I’ll just be miserable later.”

Well shit, Linhardt actually got it. Sylvain felt the same way.

“See, that’s why I flirt with all those girls! I’m just gonna end up in a loveless marriage because it’s my duty to pass down this fucking Crest, and those girls don’t actually care about me, so I just play with them and then move on. Because I won’t be able to in the future. I’m sure my folks have already picked out my bride-to-be so I’m just gonna fuck around and do my own thing because after graduation, my life is basically over.” Sylvain sat back, no longer interested in dinner.

Wren wasn’t either, especially not after what she just heard. She felt maybe she was wrong about Sylvain after all… He really was just going to play with her and move on… It wasn’t exactly a surprise anymore, he had told her himself, but the poems and their interactions today…

Maybe it should end right there.

But Linhardt seemed to notice this and had to say something. “I hope that isn’t your intention with my classmate though. You two got into such a heap of trouble that affected the entire student body, and you’re just going to leave her high and dry? That’s not very sportsmanlike at all.” He shrugged. “It’s not my business though, but perhaps you should reconsider what you’ve done with Wren. Because otherwise you’ve wasted not only her time, but yours.”

Sylvain bit his lip, knowing Linhardt was right. He really did get into all that trouble with her… And he said all of that in front of her… She had said from the get-go she didn’t trust him but wanted to give him a chance for redemption because she thought he was worth it…

He didn’t think he was worth anything, but she definitely was.

“Wren, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that.”

Her posture was very rigid. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

He could hear the fury, practically see it, but she kept herself very composed. He felt guilty in a way no one had ever made him feel before. People always got on to him, nagging his head off. Linhardt was purely logical, and Wren was seething in silent fury.

Sylvain then remembered Catherine saying Wren could totally kick his ass, and he feared that very much right now.

“I… Shit, I am really an asshole.”

Caspar let out a belch. “Yeah you are.”

“Caspar, that was disgusting,” Linhardt scolded.

Caspar just shrugged, grabbing his plate. “Anyone else done? I’m going to bring this back.”

Sylvain and Wren handed him their dishes. This was probably his way of getting out of the very uncomfortable conversation.

“Hmm, Caspar, I will join you.” Linhardt got up and followed his best friend.

Sylvain and Wren sat together on the dining hall bench. Neither really knew what to say.

Wren realized if she let herself continue with Sylvain, she’d be ‘sullied’ and everyone would just be disappointed with her for doing anything with that idiot. She didn’t care what anyone else said or thought, but she did care about herself and realized this was a fool’s errand. She should just do well in school. When she graduated, she’d just join the military or something because she wasn’t the marrying type anyway, didn’t like opening up that way to people, just wanted to mess around, go dancing and drinking, and then go to bed reading stupid books and making art and writing stories. She didn’t need a guy like Sylvain to bring her down. Shamir and Seteth and all the other students and faculty were right. Sylvain wasn’t worth her education, her future, and he was a lost cause.

She wouldn’t cry. There was no reason to. He was never hers, despite those stupid fucking poems. She would go back to how things were. She’d go to choir and sing praises to the goddess she had no faith in. She’d learn more Brigid proverbs, ones that didn’t make her think of Sylvain. She’d laugh with Caspar and Ferdinand. She’d have this weird rivalry with Dorothea that she didn’t want at all, but it was a thing so she’d embrace it. She’d be happy that Hubert approved of her and that Edelgard wanted her to refer to her as Edelgard and not by a royal title. Bernadetta was shy but Wren would at least try and talk to her more often. Linhardt was lazy but he was knowledgeable on things, such as what just happened, and she’d continue being his friend. She needed a logical friend in her life.

“Huh, you really did get yourself into trouble just for easy ass. Well, I’m not that easy and that’s a good thing.” She got up, intent on taking a shower to wash away her shame and then going to bed. Maybe Mercedes would find her and braid her hair again. She’d like that right now.

Mercedes was friends with Sylvain though, was in his house, and she wondered if Mercedes would be upset about all this.

“Wren, wait…!” Sylvain called after her. She didn’t bother turning around, just gave him an obscene gesture and continued walking.

He wasn’t worth her time.

Chapter 9: Fight Night

Summary:

Sylvain is at a loss at what to do about Wren until Felix comes along. Wren blows off steam in her own way.

Notes:

I really loved writing this chapter. I hope you all enjoy!

Sylvain stood dumbfounded as he watched possibly the girl of his dreams walk away, not even looking back to glare. He was no longer worth her time.

She didn’t care about the flirting though, the constant sexual harassment (he could admit it was definitely that), or his casual lies. She thought he was funny and let him do his thing and they built up some sort of weird kinship based on a distrust of each other but an interest in proving the other wrong. And Sylvain royally fucked himself.

There it was, the sabotage he was so good at giving himself. He always found a way to push some girl away. At this rate, he was pushing his friends away too. Goddess, why was he such a wreck?

He kicked the bench and a few students looked at him, worried. Sylvain just swore and stalked out of the dining hall.

As he walked down the stairs to head to the dormitories, he wrung his hands through his hair, cursing himself. He kicked a wall and swore as the pain shot through his foot but instead of stopping, he just punched the wall instead. Of course, it was brick, so he made a mess of his hand. He yelled out, but not from the pain, but from how stupid he was for even letting himself think he had a chance with Wren when he was a heartless and cruel bastard who only hurt people.

He always said he didn’t care about hurting other people, but truth be told, he didn’t actually like it.

He knew it was wrong. But when you’re raised in a household that makes it seem your only redeeming quality is something you couldn’t even control, you start to think maybe you truly are worthless and anyone giving you the light of day is only after that. They’ll never be after you; they only think of themselves.

Wren didn’t think of herself. Well, he was sure she did, in a protective manner, but she wasn’t selfish and wasn’t looking for an easy life. She just wanted to be herself and Sylvain admired that. And then he fucked up.

“I am the biggest idiot on the planet,” he muttered as he approached his door, his hand and foot stinging.

“You are. That’s what you get for involving yourself too closely with girls,” came the sarcastic voice of one Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

“Felix, not now,” Sylvain begged, not wanting to be reprimanded when he already knew he was an idiot.

“What did you do now? It’s a bit odd you’re the one upset and not your latest sexual interest.”

Well, Sylvain had never had a romantic interest so sexual was apt. Wren was...more than that though. “I said stupid shit and it upset her. She walked off and didn’t even look back. She made a rude gesture with her hand and went to her dorm I assume.”

“Good for her,” Felix said, smirking. “She does have a brain after all.”

“Gah, Felix, she has more than a brain! She’s… Ugh, she’s actually really...cool.”

Felix analyzed Sylvain. Sylvain rarely showed his true emotions, masking them with an insincere smile and a quip. But his eyes shimmered, his brow furrowed, and his hair was messed up from pulling at it. Plus, his hand was bleeding from punching the wall.

“Huh. You actually like her.”

Sylvain threw his head to the ceiling, groaning. “Yeah Felix! I do!”

Felix nodded his head to Sylvain’s door. “Let’s go inside.”

Sylvain didn’t like the sound of that. Felix didn’t ‘talk’ feelings. Sylvain was actually afraid Felix would lecture him or just insult him, but Felix was his best friend despite it all so he let him inside.

Sylvain sat on his bed, collapsing onto it, staring at the ceiling. Felix sat on the chair at the desk, looking Sylvain over.

“What changed?” Felix asked bluntly.

Sylvain didn’t move his gaze. “What do you mean?”

Felix sighed. “You go from girl to girl like they’re nothing. And then this one comes along and you’re completely different. So, what changed?”

Sylvain stayed silent a moment.

“Well?”

“Give me a minute!” Sylvain yelled. “Gah, it’s complicated...”

“It probably isn’t. Just tell me the story.”

So Sylvain went into the story of how he met Wren, how she captivated him just by walking, her expression, her gorgeous hair. How she threw him off at the bridge, laughing at his sad attempts at flirting. How he followed her anyway to choir practice because he was determined to prove a point because he would get under skirt and then that didn’t happen at all. He ate dinner with her, and they talked. And he realized she was real, not some fake hoping to gain favors. How they went off to the bar to dance and drink and how she was something Sylvain never realized he wanted. She was adventure and charm in her own way, but honest and dazzling. Sure, they got in trouble, but it was worth it. Sylvain felt alive for once, felt like he had a chance to be something other than the next Margrave with some noble bitch on his arm, house full of Crest babies, living a miserable life as he controlled the Sreng border just as his predecessors had. He finally admitted they exchanged love poems (Felix groaned at that) and Sylvain said it was possibly the one time he actually put thought into his, despite the first one just being gross because he was gross. He talked about how Seteth made him think he truly was worthless, something he had already thought anyway, but it was now confirmed, but Wren made him want to prove everyone, including himself, wrong. So he studied and trained and did well on his exams, enough so that he got out of the detention and probation. How he did finally receive a letter from his parents a few days ago saying they were disappointed but that he would do well to listen to the administration at Garreg Mach, no intention of pulling him out because this school would ensure his success. How happy he was to be by Wren’s side and taking her to the teahouse, their little talk by the pier. He said they had read a book together under a tree (but not what sort of book it was) and how they met at dinner later, only for him to be goaded into saying his previous intentions in front of someone he was willing to change for.

“And here I am, in my room with you, spilling my guts out even though I know you don’t give a shit.” Sylvain said dejectedly.

“Don’t say I don’t give a shit. I don’t give a shit about a lot of things, but you’re still my friend, as stupid as you are, and I would hate for you to fail just because of how jaded you are.”

Only Felix would give him a pep talk by insulting him. Sylvain actually liked that. Felix never lied.

“Yeah… I am pretty jaded, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, probably the most out of all of us.”

“Even more than you?” Sylvain asked, hoping to piss Felix off but in a friendly way.

“Pfft, I’m not jaded. I intend to live my life on my own terms. I refuse to give in just because my father wants me to be his heir.” Felix rolled his eyes. “Chivalry is stupid.”

Sylvain hummed. “It sure is...”

“So what are you going to do?”

Sylvain sat up. “Hmm?”

“You know. About this girl.” Felix glared. “You seem to actually like her, and that’s odd for you. Perhaps you should try again.”

“She hates my guts now, Felix. It’s over.”

“Ugh, you’re giving up that easily? Coward. If you want to stop with the self-sabotage and pity, perhaps you should actually fight for her hand. That’s your modus operandi right? To be a knight for lovely ladies?” Felix mocked him, revulsion in his tone.

“I mean, that’s mostly an act so I can sleep with them...”

“But it works. Maybe you could actually mean it for once and it would make a difference.”

Sylvain shook his head. “I think I’m better off going back to my old ways… It was easier.”

Felix growled. “But you were miserable. This Black Eagle bitch lit a fire in you and you can’t deny that.”

“Hey! Don’t call her a bitch! A lot of people are bitches, but she isn’t.”

Felix looked smug suddenly. “So then fight for her. Let that fire continue to burn that she lit and become the you that you want to be.”

Felix actually had a good point and Sylvain hated that. Since when was Felix good at this sort of thing?

“Man, fuck you! Since when could you give decent advice?”

Felix shrugged. “I have moments. I’m not always an asshole.”

“Pretty sure you are. Except with Annette so I hear...”

Felix froze. “How do you know about that?”

Sylvain laughed. “A really loud bird told me! Hey, congrats! You plan on taking her out? I can give you pointers.”

Felix blushed. “There is no need for that. I… I don’t think she likes me.”

Sylvain chuckled. “She will in time. You know. Fight for her.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sylvain.”

Sylvain laughed harder. “Hey, you said it first!”

“Whatever. I’m leaving now. Think on what I said. Go after your own dream, not someone else’s.”

Felix left and Sylvain was lost in his own thoughts. Felix wasn’t wrong, but Sylvain had never been given an opportunity or even a command to choose his own destiny. Maybe this was a sign.

It didn’t matter anymore so he went to find someone who knew a healing spell to fix his hand.

Meanwhile, as Felix gave the worst pep talk of the century, Wren was in her room, screaming into her pillow because she didn’t want to worry her neighbors. She refused to cry, but she could admit a few burning tears had slipped out. She kicked her legs and punched her fists and finally calmed down.

Her anger gave her a rush and she knew she had to get it out. She decided she’d go annihilate some training dummies. Byleth did tell her to improve on her right arm and focus on technique and she could do that… Or lay waste to dummies who were as useless as Sylvain. She liked that idea better.

She stalked off to the training grounds, passing Mercedes and Annette. They saw how furious she looked and couldn’t help but stop.

“You okay, Wren?” Annette asked.

“I’m fine,” Wren said, still walking.

“If you need something, feel free to tell us, okay?” Mercedes called out.

Wren gave a thumbs up and left them. The two friends looked at each other, concerned for their newest friend.

Wren entered the training grounds, found a training sword, and set up some dummies. In fact, she set them all up. There were many, but she had every intention of destroying every last one of them.

Wren went at it, twirling and swinging. She knew her style was a bit unorthodox, and she did focus on her footwork and even switched her hands because Byleth wanted her to mostly improve on her right. Byleth was aware of the...situation. Wren didn’t want to dwell on that.

Dummy after dummy was beaten. She didn’t feel exhausted yet so she continued and swung her sword as if that was the only thing she could do.

Sylvain lied in bed, wondering what he could do to gain Wren’s favor again. It had been probably thirty minutes since Felix left, but he did find Marianne who pensively healed his hand, and he was still upset. He sighed, thinking nothing he could do would help because Wren would just assume he was back to his old ways and he was faking it just to get with her. He groaned, feeling anxious and frustrated.

Felix walked back in. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Well, that was fast. Why are you back so soon?”

“Because you’re an idiot and you won’t do anything I told you. Come train with me. It’ll ease your mind and you’ll get that frustration out.”

Sylvain groaned again. “I hate training.”

“You liked it enough to get out of probation,” Felix pointed out.

“I mean, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I liked it.”

“Whatever. Join me or not. I’m giving you an opportunity to distract yourself. You’ll be able to think more clearly later.”

“Fine.” Sylvain got up, his gaze softening. “Thanks, Felix. You’re a good friend.”

“Whatever.” Felix stalked out and Sylvain ran after him.

They approached the training grounds and they heard grunting and yelling and the telltale whack of a sword hitting a dummy. Felix turned to Sylvain and placed his index finger on his lips, a sign for Sylvain to stay quiet. They lightened their steps and spied upon whoever was making the racket.

It was Wren and Sylvain felt his stomach drop.

“Felix, I gotta get outta here,” Sylvain whispered, about to turn away. Felix held him back.

“No. Let’s watch.”

So from a corner they watched Wren train. Felix was impressed with her strength although her technique could be more refined. It was clear she was improving though and that she was focusing on that.

She looked like a wreck though. Her hair had loosened from the half-ponytail and at some point she must have ripped her own sleeves off for better range of motion. There was a tear up the side of her skirt and her thigh high socks had holes in the knees. She was glistening with sweat and the front of her shirt was opened a bit, either because a button popped off or she did it herself to breathe better. She was certainly a sight to behold, and not a good one.

Something changed her focus and with a spinning swipe and a horrifying war cry no one would expect from her, she managed to cut a dummy clean in half. Sylvain’s mouth dropped in shock and Felix made a noise of surprise.

She had stopped, breathing heavily, and they saw her staring at one of the last dummies. She dropped her sword and brought her hands up, conjuring a Fire spell.

With horror, Sylvain saw her throw the fire ball and it incinerated the dummy’s head. Then, she conjured more and more, throwing them in rapid succession, and the dummy was turned to nothing but ash.

“Felix, we need to get the fuck out of here. We’re next,” Sylvain murmured.

“No. This is interesting.” Felix continued watching, transfixed.

“She will kill us if she notices us,” Sylvain insisted.

Felix ignored him and watched as Wren turned to the last dummy, her hands smoking. She had to be in pain. But she ignored it and threw a wicked punch to the dummy, and then another, finally knocking its head off. She roundhouse kicked it and shot her leg up to knock its head off and continued her brawling until the dummy was knocked to the ground and then she stomped on it. The dummy was decimated.

Sylvain felt himself shake. If she was capable of that, she’d have no trouble doing the same to him. Catherine had not joked about her at all.

Sylvain was about to request again for he and Felix to leave but instead Felix walked into the grounds, clapping. Sylvain wanted to drag him away and run for their lives.

“That was quite a show,” Felix complimented.

“What in the eternal flames do you want?” Wren asked rudely. “You’re Sylvain’s friend. Don’t tell me he got you to try and beg me to come back.”

Felix rolled his eyes, annoyed at her assumption. “Absolutely not. I’ve never been a wingman for Sylvain. I’ve always thought his pursuit of women was stupid to be frank.”

Wren laughed. “Hah, you’ve got that right.”

Felix paused, looking over her mess. “You seem quite upset though.”

“I am,” was all she said.

“Your strength is impressive, although your technique could improve.”

“I’m aware. I’ve been working on it.”

“It’s apparent.” He sighed, realizing she had destroyed every dummy. “But you do realize now none of us have practice dummies because you let your anger get the better of you.”

She bit her lip, knowing he was right. “Yeah, it was irresponsible of me, but it’s whatever. I’ll clean it up.” She then looked concerned. “Don’t tell anyone it was me though. I don’t want to be held responsible for this. I’ve already been in trouble.”

“Consider it already forgotten. However, I have a request for you.”

“Shoot.”

“You’ll need help of course.”

“You’re going to help me? Why?”

“Oh, it won’t be me.” Wren made to say, “Don’t you dare-” but Felix turned his head to call out “SYLVAIN!” and the poor bastard himself swore and walked sheepishly out from the shadows.

“What the fuck, Felix? This was your plan all along.”

“No. It just came to me. I was going to help Sylvain train to get his mind off everything but we saw you instead.” He surveyed the damage. “He’s annoying when he sulks and we don’t want to deal with that. Let Sylvain help you and I won’t tell anyone it was you who broke all the dummies. Make up so he’ll stop the sulking.”

Wren sighed. “I would almost rather not, but okay.” She rolled her shoulders back but only looked at Sylvain, not saying a word.

“I’ll leave you to it.” And with that, Felix left.

Sylvain stood still for a moment, afraid Wren would attack him now that there was no witness. Instead, she walked towards some of the mess and began picking it up.

“There’s a receptacle nearby for things like this. Let’s take it all there.”

Sylvain nodded, gathering up pieces.

They worked in silence for a while, heaving the parts of the dummies away. At some point though, Wren picked up one of the wooden pieces and cursed. Sylvain looked to see in the dim light she managed to get a splinter and it was bleeding.

“Fuck.” She tried pulling it out but was only making it worse.

“Let me help,” Sylvain insisted and he grasped her hand. She tried to pull away but he held firm.

Gently, he coaxed the splinter out. It was still bleeding, so he grabbed her hand, his right hand hovering over hers. She watched as his eyes closed in concentration and saw the soft glowing light of a Heal spell.

Slowly, the wound closed.

She stared, surprised. “You’ve been learning Faith spells?” she asked.

“Manuela said since I have a budding talent in Reason, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to learn some Faith spells too. I can only do a really weak Heal, but Mercedes has helped me.”

He held tight to her hand though and looked at his handiwork. Not even a scar. But in the dim light he saw the shine of another scar that went up the length of her right arm, from wrist to inner elbow. He had never noticed it before, but it was faint, nearly the color of her skin, only slightly paler.

She saw where his gaze was and yanked her arm away. “Don’t stare. It’s rude.”

“What happened…?” He already knew the answer. That was an intentional scar, and he would bet it was self-done.

“None of your business.” She turned away, taking up the last of the pieces. “Let’s just finish this.”

So they did and Wren just stared into the sky, looking at the stars. The moon was out, bright, and it lit the grounds up. She shrugged.

“Let’s go.”

The last of the mess was gone, and she was sure to find her ruined sleeves and throw them out too. They walked out, Wren having every intention to go to her room and grab things to shower, Sylvain intent on apologizing.

“Wren, look, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t want to hear it.” She quickened her pace.

“No, please, hear me out! I’m an idiot and I shouldn’t have said all that.”

“You did though and it only told me you never intended to change. I wanted to give you a chance because no one else had, I told you this, and you still said those vile things.”

He jogged to stand in front of her. “Look, it’s habit. It’s how I used to feel. I don’t anymore! Do you really think I’d let myself get into such trouble and then work my ass off to get out of it for any other girl? You know I wouldn’t.”

She glared at him. “Get out of my way.”

“Wren, I promise I want to change and I have! It’s slow going, but it’s happening! I promise you’ve put your faith in the right person! I will make good on everything I said I would! I’ll only have dinner with you! I’ll stay by your side!” He looked to the ground. “You’re it for me.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, finally stopping.

“I… I don’t know if I should say you’re the one, but I’m just so fond of you.”

She grimaced, embarrassed at that admission. “You’re only saying that.”

“I’m not!” He grabbed her shoulders and she flinched.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” she warned.

Sylvain did. “Sorry, I...” He rubbed his hair, making it messier than usual. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk right now.”

“I want to shower and go to bed,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, I get that. But can we talk later? Have an actual discussion?”

The look in his eyes was so pathetic, like a dog asking for scraps. She sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Fine. Maybe tomorrow after class.”

“Thank you.” They made it to her dorm. He wanted to hug her and kiss her goodnight, but that was certainly not a good idea.

She stared at him a moment, knowing he wanted to touch her. But if she let him, she’d just melt again and she didn’t want that.

“Good night, Sylvain.”

He smiled, and an insecure look crossed his face. “Yeah. Good night, Wren. I’ll see you later.”

She turned away and walked into her room.

Sylvain paused for a moment, still hurt, but all he could do was go to his own room and sleep. It was the only comfort he had...besides sneaking out alcohol from the kitchens and drinking his sorrows away.

Old habits die hard after all.

Chapter 10: Drunken Lament

Summary:

Wren talks with Mercedes and Annette to enlighten some things. Sylvain tries to take a shower.

Notes:

Running water totally exists in this AU. (:

Wren was grabbing her things to shower when there was a tentative knock on her door. She wondered if it was Sylvain and was about to tell the intruder to fuck off but figured maybe it was someone else. She opened the door to see Mercedes and Annette.

“Oh. Um, hi.”

Mercedes smiled kindly. “I know you’d like to shower, but could we all talk?”

Wren nodded. “It’s fine. Come on in.”

She let the two girls in and she sat on her bed. They shared the chair by her desk.

“So, what made you want to train until you ripped your sleeves off?” Mercedes said slyly.

Wren looked away. “I was really pissed off to be honest.”

“What happened?” asked Annette.

Wren sighed. “Sylvain said some stupid shit at dinner. It really upset me and instead of crying my life away, I decided I’d take that energy into training.” She subconsciously clutched her right wrist. “Professor Byleth wanted me to train my right arm anyway.”

“Wait, you’re not right handed?” Annette looked confused.

“No. I’m left handed. My parents tried to force me out of it since it’s considered a mark of disaster or whatever superstition they believe in, and while I do have good control over my right hand, I still prefer my left. I primarily use that when training.” Wren looked to the ceiling. “It’s obviously not considered proper or orthodox. The standard is to use your right, but… Well, I’m just not as strong with it.” She shifted her gaze towards her feet. “My parents don’t know I still use my left. They forced me to take fencing lessons and obviously they train you to use your right… But in secret I also used my left. It’s just so much easier for me and it could be a matter of life and death if I were to use my right. I can win with my left. My right...would be problematic.”

“Oh that’s awful! I’m sorry you were forced into that.” Mercedes replied. “It must be hard to harbor such a secret.”

“I mean, I have lots of other secrets, but this one is a bit annoying. Like, what is wrong with a left hand? The goddess gave us two hands for a reason, right?” Wren rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter I guess.”

“Well, besides needing to train your right anyway, what did Sylvain say to upset you so?” Annette was curious.

Wren couldn’t make eye contact. “You know… Stuff like ‘oh I only play with girls because I won’t be able to in the future’ and that nonsense. How his parents dictate his life. It’s stuff we talked about when we first met but after that night it was like he changed? And I don’t know, I thought he genuinely liked me, but it is just apparent he’s trying to use me like every other girl.”

Mercedes gazed at her sympathetically. “Wren… It’s hard, isn’t it? When the one person you want to cherish is someone you’re afraid won’t.”

“It is...”

“But you understand where he’s come from, right? You know of some of his past. There is obviously more to it, but Sylvain is a bit more complicated than what he professes.”

“Yeah, I know… What do I do then? I wanted to give him a chance but it seems like I’m wasting my time.”

Annette spoke up. “Sylvain is more insecure than you’d think. You know he is really smart! Naturally so. The type that doesn’t need to study. He plays dumb for whatever reason.” Annette nodded, sure of herself. “I think you both need to have a serious talk about your backgrounds so you can more easily understand each other.”

“Annie is right. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has left some things out. He’s more private than he lets on.”

Wren looked at them, confused. “I know he hates his Crest.”

“There really is more to it than that,” Annette assured her.

“Yes, he thinks he’s useless without it, or so I’ve surmised,” Mercedes admitted.

“I’m pretty sure he’s mentioned that to me though,” Wren was adamant.

“It’s way worse than you think. I get the idea that he’s trying to sabotage himself.” Annette explained.

“Yes, he’s definitely the type to be self-destructive. And besides, he told me he doesn’t think he’s worthy of you.” Mercedes nodded to herself. “When I would pick up the notes from him to send off to you, he’s said as much.”

Wren scoffed. “He sure has a funny way of showing it.”

Annette laughed. “Yeah, he does, but he just needs to grow up and I think you really can give him that chance. I mostly see it from a distance but I know he really likes you.”

Mercedes smiled in her gentle way. “Just talk it out. You’ll feel better.”

Wren nodded, knowing they were right. “Okay. I will.”

“Wonderful! Well, Annie and I will leave you so you can shower. Definitely clear your head and think about what we’ve said.”

“Sure. Thanks… You two are so kind to me.”

Annette smiled brightly. “Of course! I wish we were in the same class! You seem so cool.”

Wren chuckled. “I mean, I guess.”

Mercedes observed her a little. Wren definitely seemed the type to have her own insecurities, but overall was a pretty confident person. Recalcitrant and firm. She had the fortitude to get what she wanted and someone like Sylvain needed a person like her in his life.

“Good night, Wren.” she said and she and Annette left.

Wren sat for a moment, thinking over their words. They were not wrong of course, but it felt too soon to forgive Sylvain. But a shower would clear her thoughts and she could sleep on it. It was all she could do for now.

As Wren had her contemplating shower, Sylvain had managed to sneak out some of the cognac used in the kitchen for various recipes. It wasn’t his favorite beverage, but it was strong and he needed something to get him through the night before he lost himself to his own sorrow.

He went back into his room, uncorking the bottle and taking one long swig. It burned and he felt his eyes water, but this sort of pain was preferable to the one in his heart. He was disgusted with his behavior.

He thought about the scar he saw on her arm. It wasn’t something he would easily forget. Very long, thin, as if done with an extremely sharp and thin blade. It could have been anything from a letter opener to a small dagger. It made him wonder if she had self-harmed in other ways. Were there similar scars on other parts of her body? He was surprised no one else seemed to have noticed it before, but it really was faint and you’d have to really focus if you wanted to see it. With his bad eyesight, he was surprised to see it at all.

He didn’t want to go into the origin of his bad eyesight and thought instead of the loneliness in Wren’s eyes, the sadness, her brilliant hair and smile when he wasn’t being an ass. Her wit and charm and her beautiful voice. Her art skills. Her horny collection. He liked the idea that she was just as much of a pervert as he was, just shyer and more discrete. He let himself dive into those thoughts, the kinds of thoughts such as what he wanted to do to her when she was ready (assuming she’d take him back), the future things, what she could potentially be into.

But most of all… He thought of them together.

The sexual fantasies were nice, but he thought of little domestic things too. Reading together under a tree. Talking by the fishing pond. Singing with her (despite he sucked.) Didn’t she say she plays piano? He thought of watching her play and maybe sing him a song she wrote. He wondered if she did stuff like that. He thought of lying next to her in bed and listening to her heartbeat. Holding her hands, holding her in his arms. Kissing her sweetly and dancing in the club again. Having dinner and conversation that wasn’t upsetting. Exchanging poems. He couldn’t see much beyond his time at the monastery, but he wanted to experience it all with Wren. He wanted to have dinner with her and train with her (when she wasn’t mad). He wanted to have class with her and go to the market with her. He wanted to have stable duty with her and go to mass with her, even if they both hated it. At least they could suffer together right?

He realized, in the end, he just wanted her. And he probably lost his chance.

Sylvain realized he went through a lot of the bottle and felt immensely guilty, but there wasn’t anything to do about it now. He was drunk, sad, and tired. He needed to sleep since class was tomorrow but he also wanted to shower. Cool down, maybe let the water clear his mind.

So he grabbed his things and went to do that.

Wren was exiting the showers when she saw a figure shuffle towards her. She grimaced when she saw it was Sylvain.

She didn’t want to say anything and had every intention of just brushing past him, but she saw that 1) he stumbled and 2) he hadn’t even noticed her. He was tripping up the stairs and nearly fell when he reached the top. Wren could smell the alcohol from where she was standing.

Sylvain was drunk as fuck.

Wren was intimately aware of the smell of alcohol. Her father loved the locally brewed beer back home, but she was acquainted with other sorts of alcohol due to not only fancy noble functions, but her time sneaking out with her friends. Her mother liked beer as well, her sister was too young to drink actual alcohol besides the wine that was to be drunk during mass, but to Wren’s knowledge she hadn’t been confirmed in the church yet. She was still taking classes. Wren was never confirmed and therefore never drank the wine...during mass.

So seeing Sylvain barely conscious reeking of cognac was a little too familiar for her.

She absolutely should have let him fall on his face and pass out in front of the showers. But… Wren was self-sacrificing as Seteth had said. She wasn’t a doormat at all, but when it came to situations where someone needed help, she could be that person’s rock.

She sighed as Sylvain fell again. “Sylvain, you’re drunk. Go back to bed.”

She was not about to help him shower. That was too embarrassing and horrifying, plus if they got caught…? The repercussions of that were too grim to bear.

She stood over Sylvain as he turned to lie on his back. He stared up at her, the oil lamps lighting the outside a halo around her.

“An actual angel...” he muttered. “Such a sight to behold...”

“Ugh, goddess, you’re trashed.” She looked around. There were no guards. The security here really sucked. She looked at Sylvain again who was just mooning over her and drooling. “Sylvain, you’re a mess.”

“You know my name… Pray tell, sweet angel, may I know yours?”

“You know my name you dimwit. Now, get up. I’ll walk you back to your room.”

Sylvain then made a show of sniffing his armpits. Goddess, he was an absolute bum when drunk apparently. How much of that cognac had he imbibed?

“My angel, I need to shower...”

She groaned. “You can’t even stand. How will you shower?”

He gave her one of those awful, knowing, smarmy grins. “You could help me...”

She rolled her eyes. “No.” She looked around. There was still no one. “Look, I’ll walk you into the stall, but you’ve got to do the rest yourself okay? Then I’ll help you back.”

He seemed appeased by this and managed to sit up. She helped him stand and he leaned on her for a moment and then made to walk on his own. He managed to make it to the stall but he collapsed on the bench. She had his shower stuff in her hands and placed it next to him.

The shower stalls at Garreg Mach worked like this: A simple wooden door that latched, and inside were brick walls. There was a wooden seat built into the wall so one could place one’s things there, or sit as one got dressed, and then the shower itself which was the all brick walls and floors. The knobs to turn the water on and determine temperature, as well as the shower head itself, were present. Pretty simple system. Running water was fairly a new thing in Fódlan and it was mostly present in noble houses and important establishments such as Garreg Mach Monastery itself.

Sylvain leaned against the wall and panted as if this was the hardest thing he’s done all day. He then leaned over to tug off his boots and nearly fell over again but Wren stopped him, sat him up, and pulled his boots off herself.

“You’re so useless...” she muttered as she decided she’d take his socks off too. “You’re worse than a senile, invalid grandma.”

“Grandmas… Ingrid’s is pretty nice...” he said in such a sultry tone that Wren felt uncomfortable for a moment.

“Do...you like older women, Sylvain?”

“I love ‘em all!” he proclaimed. “Such beauty and grace...”

For some guy who claimed he hated how women were out to use him, he sure seemed adamant they were all gorgeous. The idea that he thought she was the same was nice, but ultimately she knew his end goal. She was still hurt about that and would let the flattery go. She didn’t need to get caught up in that.

“Well, okay. Now, take the rest of your clothes off and shower. I’ll wait outside.”

He stood and grabbed her, pulling her to him. “Stay with me,” he whispered as he buried his nose in her hair. “You smell good.”

She pushed him away and he almost fell again. “Sylvain, behave! Please just shower. I’ll stay with you later, okay?” She knew with drunk people sometimes you had to bargain with them like they were toddlers. Some were belligerent and you had to let them do their own thing until they couldn’t. Some were just overly sentimental. Some were horny. Sylvain was definitely a sentimental buffoon who was horny but needed bargaining in order to do anything. At least he’d probably forget because she had no intention of keeping to that promise.

“’mkay,” he managed to say and she shut the door. She was walking away to wait outside but heard him swear and fall again, so she groaned in frustration and turned around, knowing he needed help getting undressed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in such a non-questioning tone that it was more of a statement. She saw that he was leaning against the wall trying so hard to take off his pants. Those tight, beige pants.

She bit her lip, knowing what she’d have to do.

“Sylvain, do NOT touch me,” she commanded as she got on her knees to undo his pants. Hopefully he had whiskey dick.

He did (or perhaps he merely wasn’t aroused), and using the wall to keep him up, she eased the pants off him. She didn’t touch his underwear but he had touched her hair, patting it as if to say ‘good job.’ A bit demeaning, but at least he wasn’t pushing her face into his dick.

“Now your shirt,” she stated and she began to unbutton it carefully. She helped him out of it and he was in nothing but his skivvies and she had to force her eyes to not settle on his very attractive physique.

She hated his guts right now, but he was also sexy and she hated him even more for it.

He thumbed the waistband of his boxer briefs and she stepped away, averting her eyes. She grabbed what she figured he used to bathe himself and placed it all in the caddy under the shower head. She finally made it to the door.

“I’m leaving now. Please shower.” She shut the door behind her, and left to wait outside the men’s shower stalls.

She heard the water start and some movement which meant he might have been showering after all.

She waited a bit and eventually checked her pocket watch. Sylvain was in there for about ten minutes. She knew she took a bit longer than most simply because she shaved a lot and her hair was torture to wash because of the curls and volume, but she didn’t know how long a man’s shower should take. Unless he was shaving (which she hoped in his state he wasn’t because that could end badly), there wasn’t a reason to, was there? She debated on checking on him.

She stared at her shower things sitting in her bag on the ground because zoning out and not worrying about this drunken idiot possibly killing himself in his daze was a better way of wasting her time. She sighed and checked her watch again. Fifteen minutes. That was long enough.

She went back in, realizing the water was still running. Then she heard the telltale thunk of someone falling and she felt her stomach drop. Sylvain hadn’t locked the door and she peeked in to make sure he was alive.

Sylvain was sitting against the wall, water still cascading over him, dripping down in rivulets along his face, neck, every muscle… Wren had to look away because seeing a man in the actual flesh versus drawing them in her forbidden sketchbook was another thing entirely. His face was upwards, and she could see he was breathing. Did he fall asleep?

But then she heard him take in a shaky breath and heard the beginnings of someone about to cry.

Oh shit.

His shoulders hiked up and his chest shook. She saw his lips tremble. His eyes were scrunched closed and with the shower still running, it was hard to tell what was shower water and what were tears. Regardless of what was what, she started to feel guilty.

She was seeing the side of Sylvain that Mercedes and Annette had told her about.

He finally let out a cracked sob, his body curling into itself as he hid his head between his knees. His hands were white knuckle tight against his shins. He was shaking and the whimpers he let out stabbed her every time. She bit her lip, wondering if she should intrude.

He started mumbling things incoherently. She wanted to walk away and let him have privacy, but he was also inebriated and she didn’t want him to get caught like this.

Even though she was mad, she still knew in her heart she liked him. And that was even more infuriating.

“I’m such a fuck up...” he mumbled, still crying. “I always fucking do this.”

She wasn’t sure she should say something. What does a girl say to a guy who broke her heart and in turn broke his own? What a conundrum.

“Why in the eternal flames would she even consider me? She doesn’t want to use me and… I… I…” He started sobbing harder now and she felt her heart twist painfully. This was not something she should hear.

Or maybe she should… Sometimes Lady Serendipity liked to show her face, didn’t she?

He started to wail at that point which was surprising in her opinion and beat the back of his head against the brick wall and she swore as she rushed to him, not wanting him to injure himself or worse, kill himself. Liking her enough to maim his own body wasn’t exactly an endearing quality. She was more worried for his mental health than anything now.

“Sylvain! Goddess, don’t do that!” she reprimanded, thankful he hadn’t taken off his underwear after all. “You need to get up and dry off. Get dressed, go to sleep. You can’t stay in here. Stop making yourself sad.”

“Wren?” he asked, a look of horror on his face, but then he looked elated. “Wren! Baby, you came for me!”

She wanted to punch him. Even when drunk he was insufferably a flirt.

“I am not a knight in shining armor, but you are definitely in distress. Do as I say and I’ll make sure you get back to your room safely.” She turned the water off.

The shower seemed to have sobered him up a little, or perhaps the alcohol was finally running out of his system. But alcohol was a diuretic and she knew he probably needed to urinate.

“Get up. I’ll help you dry off.”

She helped him stand and he nearly collapsed on her. She kept him at arm’s length but he was almost dead weight. He looked at her, a little dopey but it was a cute look on him.

She did not need to feel that fondness for him. He was awful and callous and she didn’t need someone like him in her life. So she told herself at least…

“Wait,” he said as she tried to drag him to his stuff so he could use his towel. “I gotta pee.”

“Ugh, just lean against the shower wall and take a piss. I’ll stand aside.” She turned the water back on so everything would drain away. Peeing in a shower wasn’t the worst of crimes.

She stayed by the wall with the bench until he finished. He managed to stumble back to her and she handed him the towel.

“Thank you,” he managed to say as he flopped down on the bench. He began drying his hair.

“I’ll grab your things,” she said instead of ‘you’re welcome.’ She collected his soap and other things from the caddy and put them away. He was still drying his hair.

“Sylvain, you are taking too long.” She grabbed the towel and began drying off his shoulders and arms.

When she got to his chest, he sighed happily. She rolled her eyes and dried his back, waist, and legs.

“Dry off your dick,” she said coldly. “I refuse to touch you there.”

“It’s gonna stay wet a while,” he joked. Yes, he was still drunk enough to say gross shit, and stumble like the town bum, but he seemed to gain some semblance of coherency. He wasn’t slurring as badly now.

“You’re disgusting.” He started making a show of drying himself off there and she turned her back. “Will you need help dressing yourself?”

“Only if you want to help me,” he suggested. She palmed her face.

“Sylvain, I don’t want to. Do you need me to?”

“I’ll always need you,” he said and it was so serious she almost thought it was the truth. But she remembered what he said at dinner and just held her tongue.

She heard him try to get up and finally turned around. It seemed he was ready to get dressed.

“Put on your shirt first,” she said as she handed it to him. He managed to slide the sleeves on but he was messing up while buttoning. She grit her teeth and helped him.

“You’re like a baby, I swear,” she growled.

“I can be your baby,” he said huskily in her ear. It should not have sent shivers down her spine so she focused on making sure his shirt looked alright.

“You’re definitely a pain in my ass right now,” she answered and found his pants.

She got on her knees and hoped he wouldn’t make a joke about it. He did chuckle but she made a warning noise in her throat and he stopped. She helped him into them, sliding them up and he did manage to fasten them himself. Good, he was regaining his faculties. A small favor in her opinion.

Socks, then boots, and he was all dressed. She felt like a mother helping a small child and it made her feel...very weird. A part of her sort of liked it, like it was an accomplishment or a sign of growth, and the other part was simply annoyed.

“You’re good?” she asked, eyeing him. He looked better, not as pale or green at least.

“Yeah,” he managed to say and he went to her. He slung an arm around her shoulder as she grabbed the rest of his things and helped him limp out.

They barely made it down the stairs. What an obstacle that was. The walk to the dorms was excruciatingly slow and seeing the stairs that led to the second floor made her wish he could just stay in her room. But she wasn’t ready for that at all, and besides it would give him the impression she liked him again. She couldn’t have that.

Somehow, perhaps through the goddess’ grace, they made it up the stairs and to his room. Sylvain was luckily an idiot and hadn’t locked his door.

She shut the door behind him and he fell to the bed. He looked at her sleepily.

“Thanks, Wren,” he said, yawning.

She looked around and found the culprit. A giant bottle of cognac that she knew had to be from the kitchens, half empty. He clearly drank enough to fuck himself up, but not enough to die of alcohol poisoning. And if there was any luck, he wouldn’t vomit.

“Do you want water or anything?” she asked, exhausted from this endeavor.

“I’m good,” he replied. She put a wastebasket by his bed.

“Well, I’m grabbing some anyway. Turn on your side, facing this waste bin. It’ll be good if you plan to vomit.”

“Okay...” he yawned, and she could see he was about to pass out.

“Okay. Try and sleep. I’ll be back with water. We can talk tomorrow,” she finally said, knowing she’d regret it later.

“But I thought you would stay,” he whined.

“I can’t and you know it.”

He sighed. “I really like you, Wren.”

She didn’t want to say he was only saying that because he was drunk because at this point he seemed to have sobered up more. It would be a half-lie and she didn’t like that.

“Well, you should show it better, okay?”

“I will,” was the last thing he said as he fell asleep.

She had to admit he was actually very cute while sleeping. His mouth was half open and he had gentle snores. His hair was wild but he looked peaceful. Honest. It was a good look.

She shook her head and grabbed the bottle of cognac. No reason to keep that in here, but she was nervous to take it to the kitchens. She did not want to be caught with it in her hands. Someone might think she stole it.

But if it was noticed that it was missing altogether, that might cause for an investigation and she couldn’t think of a place for it to be disposed of. Back to the kitchens it was.

She looked around before leaving his room and finally found a canteen and grabbed that to fill with water. She went down the stairs quickly, looking around to ensure no one saw her. Again, the place was remote. As quietly as she could, she ran to the dining hall. She walked into the kitchens, place the cognac on a random shelf, filled the canteen with water, and ran out immediately. She didn’t care if that was the wrong place for the cognac. Maybe they wouldn’t notice. Maybe they would but what were they gonna do? Investigate all the students again? The only indicator would be if it was obvious Sylvain was hungover. But there was no longer an alcohol smell on him and as long as he disguised a possible headache or wooziness, they’d be fine.

Wren hopped up the stairs to the second floor dorms and quietly walked back into Sylvain’s room. He was completely knocked out and she put the canteen next to the wastebasket. Hopefully he’d wake up and drink some. She left, silently shutting the door and walked down the stairs. Wren finally made it back to her room, shut the door, and plopped onto her bed. This was a strange night for her, stranger than normal (but not uncommon), and the only thing that would help her would be sleep. So sleep she did and she hoped she didn’t dream of Sylvain.

The goddess was not that kind.

Chapter 11: Deception! Disgrace!

Summary:

Sylvain wakes up hungover, already dreading the day. Dorothea and Wren have another confrontation.

Notes:

I know I make Dorothea so catty in this, but I like exploring the bad sides of characters, no hate intended.

A little Marianne is sprinkled in, because most of y'all probably know from my other works that I'm super fond of her.

Please enjoy!

Sylvain could barely open his eyes as he heard people milling about. It seemed the day was starting and he was hungover.

He sat up, hating how his head swam. He was dizzy and goddess his head hurt. He pressed on his eyes to will the headache away but it only made it worse.

He opened his eyes and stared at his legs. He was fully dressed. His pants felt damp and the memory of the night before hit him like a cargo wagon.

He was upset with what happened with Wren. He got so depressed he stole a bottle of cognac (that he realized was missing), drank it, and went to shower because drunk people love to not stay in the same place. He had wandered by himself and he remembered someone helped him. He focused his mind on the memory and realized it was Wren who helped him. He grimaced. She must have really thought lesser of him now. He was a mess and she had to see it. He vaguely remembered being undressed and shuffling into the shower. He remembered crying but he didn’t remember what he said. Wren helped him dress and escorted him to his room. He did recall saying he liked her and that her tone softened. She didn’t seem as angry anymore but he wondered if that was just the alcohol mucking up his memory.

He was worried that the bottle was gone and he did his best to change out of his damp clothes to put on dry ones. He continued looking as he pulled on new pants, socks, shoes. He tucked his shirt in. He was still dizzy but he was functional.

Where did that bottle go?

He wondered if Wren had seen it and took it herself to put it away. He really hoped that was the case.

Then he saw the canteen next to his bed as well as the wastebasket and his heart filled with a certain kind of warmth. Maybe she hated his guts, but she was still a caring person and he felt… Lucky to know her. Guilty for upsetting her, but she still cared. That was something to be happy about.

He gulped the water down which helped with the staleness of morning breath and dropped the canteen on his desk. He felt somewhat refreshed but he still needed to clean himself up more.

He sighed, grabbing his school things and went to the bathrooms to clean himself up. He needed to look as awake as possible, not hungover, with clear eyes and stubble gone. Teeth brushed to mask whatever scent of alcohol that was left on his breath.

Then he was on his way to the dining hall for breakfast. He really needed to hear Ingrid chastise him or Felix say something scathing. Dimitri’s worry or Dedue’s quiet wisdom. Anything. He needed to be distracted from Wren. She might have helped him, but he knew it would be some time before he had her forgiveness, if he got it at all.

Sylvain walked into the dining hall and saw she was in line with some of her Black Eagles classmates. Weirdly enough, so were Mercedes and Annette. He knew Mercedes liked her enough to help with the secret love notes from what felt like ages ago, but he hadn’t realized they had become friends. Maybe Mercedes could get him back in…

He was then pulled aside by Felix, who sat him down. Ingrid looked miffed. Dimitri hadn’t shown up yet and neither did Dedue.

“How did the cleanup go last night?” Felix asked brusquely. “I assume well since you don’t have a black eye or anything like that.”

Sylvain chuckled. “Heh, it went alright. She didn’t want to really talk about anything, but she said maybe we could chat later today. I hope so.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Felix told me a little of what happened. Sylvain, you really can be an idiot.”

Sylvain couldn’t look her in the eye, feeling the guilt of hurting Wren tenfold. Maybe hearing Ingrid chastise him was not what he needed. He stared at the table as he said dejectedly, “I know.”

“What? Normally you go on about how I’m not your mother and that you won’t change. That I should leave you alone. Are you really Sylvain?” Ingrid asked, surprised and suspicious.

“Yeah, it’s me. Just… I don’t know, this time it’s different.”

Ingrid and Felix looked at each other, concerned.

“I told Ingrid that you liked Wren,” Felix admitted. “I doubt we can help you, but we know of the situation at least.”

“There isn’t anything you can do. It’s up to me to try and fix my own mess, and for her to forgive me, which I doubt she’ll do.”

Ingrid looked closely at Sylvain’s face. He had dark circles that were more pronounced than usual, and she saw slight redness in his eyes. It looked like he may have nicked himself while shaving too. Somehow, he didn’t look as presentable today.

“What exactly happened last night?” Ingrid asked carefully. “You look tired.”

Sylvain bit his lip. “Just the usual. Me screwing up with a girl.”

“Did you even sleep? You look terrible.”

Sylvain sighed dramatically. “How can I sleep, Ingrid, when all I do is think of women?”

She rolled her eyes. “And there he is! Welcome back, Sylvain.”

Sylvain was surprised that even worked. Or maybe Ingrid was just going along with it. He had to admit he didn’t always tell the truth, but he was sure she and the others were aware of that.

Felix rolled his eyes. “You need to stop thinking about women. It’s just distracting you. You’re going to do terribly today. We have a practical lecture later. Reason and swords.”

“Pfft, you’ll do just fine then, Felix.” Sylvain looked to see Wren and her friends had sat down to eat. “Whatever. Let’s get food.”

“We already ate. Better hurry up. Class will start soon,” Ingrid said.

“You’re not going for seconds?” Sylvain joked.

“I mean, I could.”

Sylvain laughed. “Join me in line then. I’m sure you’ll find something else to feed that insatiable hunger of yours.”

“Oh shove it,” Ingrid growled, but she got up with him and followed him to the breakfast line anyway.

They grabbed food and walked back to Felix. They passed Dimitri and Dedue who said good morning and then they sat to eat.

Ingrid started talking about a letter her father sent her and Felix seemed to take it seriously but Sylvain mostly tuned it out. This wasn’t anything new and he was mad that Ingrid seemed to just go along with it. She wanted to be a knight, not some housewife and he knew it was inconceivably unfair to her. They were all tied down by their Crests, and there wasn’t anything to do about it.

Wren was determined to find a way, if their conversations were any indication. Make her own destiny. He wondered if she’d succeed.

Dimitri and Dedue finally sat with them, asking how everyone was doing. Sylvain wasn’t paying much attention until Ingrid slapped his arm to wake him from his daze.

“Huh what?”

“I was asking if you slept well, Sylvain.” Dimitri said cordially.

“Ah, no better than usual.”

Dedue and Dimitri studied him for a moment, also noting his general state. Sylvain looked like he barely slept at all.

“Are you sure? You don’t look well. Perhaps a visit to the infirmary would be wise.”

“Who would attend me? Manuela is our professor,” Sylvain said, trying to avoid that trip.

“She has stand-ins for when she teaches. They’d surely help you.”

“Thanks Your Highness, but I don’t think what I need is a trip to the infirmary.”

Ingrid snickered. “He’s got heart trouble again.”

“You mean love trouble,” Felix corrected. Felix got up, not wanting to be near Dimitri more than necessary. “Whatever. I’m going to class.” He said no goodbyes and walked away.

Dimitri looked sad at Felix’s departure, but that wasn’t any different than normal. Maybe this would distract Dimitri enough to stop asking about how he was doing.

Of course it didn’t. “Sylvain, I really do think you need some sort of help.”

Sylvain was starting to feel defensive, tired of being nagged on. “Okay, fine. I’ll write to the counselor. Maybe a letter to whomever reads that crap will help me. Who knows who answers those.” He didn’t want to be questioned anymore.

“If you think that’s wise,” Dimitri replied. “Surely some advice will ease your worries.”

Sylvain groaned. “Sure. Maybe. I don’t care anymore.” He got up, barely finishing his food. “Ingrid, you can have the rest. I’m going to class.”

He wasn’t. He was going to sit by the stables because at least horses didn’t question every little thing he did. He always went there when he was upset.

He wished a lovely lady, namely Wren, would join him. He needed a distraction.

Wren was finishing up her breakfast and conversation when she saw Sylvain storm away. He looked...better than he did last night, but still awful.

She shrugged it off and continued listening to Caspar go on about an upcoming match with Raphael.

“We’re going to see who’s the best brawler at the academy! And whoever loses has to do a hundred pushups with the other sitting on their back.”

Petra looked at him, amazed. “Are you really being able to do that?!”

Caspar flexed. “Hell yeah! I’m so strong! Raphael won’t know what hit him!”

Raphael was also at least three times Caspar’s size, so that’d be an interesting match, but the others didn’t say anything. Linhardt would, but he was probably sleeping in again.

“Well, I suppose we should head off to class,” Ferdinand finally announced. “I am intrigued at what we will learn today.”

Wren snickered because Ferdinand just wanted to be there before Edelgard, but she hadn’t seen the princess yet. Either she had already left, or was doing something else before class. It didn’t matter. Edelgard never skipped.

They put their dishes away and headed off together.

When they got there, Edelgard and her shadow Hubert were already there, sitting in the front. Ferdinand groaned in disappointment but sat behind her anyway, fuming. Wren snorted and sat in the middle of the classroom. She wanted to pay attention, but also to drown out everything because there was too much on her mind.

Caspar stayed closer to the left side of the classroom, probably to daydream about the upcoming match but Petra sat at Wren’s side. Wren wondered if she was going to learn another proverb today but Dorothea then showed up.

“Wren, I need to ask you something.”

Wren looked at her quizzically. “Um, okay?”

“May I read your palm?”

Wren stared back at her. Palmistry wasn’t commonly practiced, at least not in this part of Fódlan. She was familiar with it, and one of her friends back home also practiced it, but she didn’t let just anyone read her palms.

Reading her palms meant seeing the scar, and she didn’t want to show that off.

“Um, thanks, but I’m not interested.” She was considering Dorothea’s angle. Why would Dorothea be interested in reading her palm?

What was on Dorothea’s mind exactly? Perhaps it was that incident where Wren bruised her arm, wrecking her in that training match. She still wanted some sort of justice and figured ‘reading’ her palm and saying disaster would find her would be a way to shake her up, maybe hurt her in some other way? Seemed likely. Wren didn’t care about insults, but maybe Dorothea thought she was easily bothered by omens. She wouldn't be exactly wrong, but Wren also had the belief in herself so omens weren't something she took much stock in.

Dorothea scoffed, playing the part of insistent amateur seer. “Oh, come now! I’ve been practicing on others and I’m really intrigued by what I could find out for you.”

Wren really didn’t like the predatory look Dorothea was giving her and shook her head.

“Like I said, not interested.” She moved to hide her hands under the desk but then Dorothea snatched them from her and looked boldly at them.

She started with her right hand and Wren went into a panic. She stared in horror as Dorothea traced what would be her lifeline...which led directly into the scar.

“Ah, I’d say you have a long life line, but it looks like it was cut short,” she said in such a catty way it made Wren sick. Dorothea traced the scar and Wren finally came to and ripped her hands away.

“That is none of your concern,” she growled.

“Hah! I know your secret. I’d say you were doomed, but it looks like you already are!”

Wren felt rage sweeping through her body but also despair. She regretted not wearing long sleeves more often. She always thought the scar had become faint enough to be nearly invisible, but she knew if anyone gave it a close inspection, they’d see it. It was only a matter of time…

“Obviously I survived and obviously I have no intention of doing that again. Whatever you have against me needs to end. I told you I was sorry. There is no need for this pettiness.”

Dorothea rolled her eyes. “Oh you nobles always think of commoners as being petty! I always thought the ladies would be kinder, but you’re just as bad as the boys. Nasty attitude and arrogant.”

Wren stood up, slamming her hands on the desk. “You want a nasty attitude and arrogance? Look in the mirror.”

Dorothea’s face lit up in anger. “Takes one to know one, right?”

Wren knew she shouldn’t throw a punch and tried to hold herself together. Caspar began chanting ‘FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT’ but Ferdinand had grabbed Wren’s shoulders, saying something like ‘allow me to take you away from here’ and was pulling her away as Hubert gathered her things. Weird.

Wren could barely hear anything. It was like being lost in a vacuum. Red was dotting her vision and she wanted nothing more than to make Dorothea pay. But she heard Edelgard say something like ‘I will talk to her, please stay calm’ and Hubert wickedly said, “You would destroy her anyway so it’s best to simply stay away,” but it didn’t stop Wren from attempting to pull away from Ferdinand, who was stronger than he looked. He managed to sit her in the seat next to him, still gripping her shoulders. Hubert laid her things out before her.

“I understand your anger, but causing a scene when you’ve just gotten out of trouble will only make it worse for you.”

Wren took in a large breath and let it out slowly. “You are absolutely right, but please know if she starts spreading rumors about this scar on my arm, I will kill her.”

“Killing your classmate won’t make the rumors go away. Besides, there are other ways to get back at people.”

“You wanna slip laxatives in her food? That’d be an apt form of justice.”

The chuckle Hubert let out was entirely too wicked. Wren felt chills rush through her body. “We’ll see...”

Wren didn’t look her way, but she heard Edelgard say, "Dorothea, that was uncalled for, Wren is our classmate," and she did hear Petra say, “That was being unnecessarily cruel, Dorothea.” Dorothea said, “I didn’t want you to see that side of me, Petra, but it was for your own good.”

What in the eternal flames did that mean? Wren just rolled her eyes and rolled her sleeves down.

She knew her other classmates heard everything and that some were probably questioning what exactly happened, people she barely talked to because they were just so plain and stuck up, but she hoped it wouldn’t blow up. She didn’t need the others to know she attempted suicide a long time ago.

“I think I should go,” Wren finally said. She hated how her voice wavered.

“Going would just let her win. This is not a defeat for you. Hold yourself strong and prove her wrong!” Ferdinand said all too confidently.

“That’s easy for you to say, Ferdinand. Your biggest regret wasn’t just shown off to the class.”

He looked at her forlornly. “You are still my friend, and I want you to prosper. We will do well today and move forward.”

She looked at him for a moment, but finally nodded. “Thanks. You’re a good friend, Ferdinand.”

“Of course! I am the best!”

She laughed at how seriously he said it. Ferdinand could easily be one of her best friends. In fact, he probably was. She was so incredibly fond of him, Caspar, and Petra. She included Mercedes and Annette in that circle too.

And Sylvain? Well, she’d have to think on that.

Byleth finally walked in and noticed how tense everyone seemed. Wren was being consoled by Ferdinand. Hubert was contemplating something. Edelgard was having a serious talk with Dorothea, who looked slightly smug but as the conversation went on, she looked increasingly embarrassed. Petra kept looking Wren’s way, concerned, and Caspar just looked disappointed. The other students were whispering among themselves, but upon seeing Byleth everyone stopped, looking like they were caught in the act of doing something bad.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m going to teach as if nothing happened. Please focus today. We have much to cover for our upcoming mission.”

Byleth went to the front of the classroom and began her lecture, explaining different formations of battle, defensive maneuvers, how to counter certain attacks. She said in the second half of the class they’d be practicing more techniques for their preferred weapons. She wanted them on top of their game.

Byleth did notice Wren had her sleeves down today. Most would say it was inconsequential, but Byleth knew her students well enough to notice their clothing choices and how they presented themselves. Wren always came across as casual, especially for a noble, always ready for a fight, not caring about propriety. The sleeves down told Byleth that her student was incredibly uncomfortable. She was folding into herself, as if trying to hide something or heal the hurt. She simply looked miserable.

She saw Ferdinand hold her hand, patting it gently in a consoling gesture. Wren didn’t pull away and would just sigh.

The first half of class ended, lunch about to begin. But Byleth, as a professor, knew to be concerned. If her students were not mentally there, then they shouldn’t be training at all.

“Wren, Ferdinand, I need to speak with you.” She considered calling out the others who were acting odd as well, but perhaps she’d get enough out of just the two.

But Edelgard and Hubert also came her way, and Byleth knew to trust Edelgard. She was the house leader after all.

The other students looked their way and then hustled out of the room. Byleth was very sure now that something happened.

When the rest were gone, Wren and Ferdinand approached Byleth, Edelgard and Hubert next to them.

“Something happened today. I need to know. I don’t want you training if you’re mentally off. It could end badly for you.”

Wren just clutched her wrist and Ferdinand looked to her for confirmation. She nodded.

“Professor, Dorothea and Wren had a...confrontation.”

Byleth looked at him, no expression on her face. “What kind?”

“Simply an argument, although it would have escalated to something more. I pulled Wren away and Hubert gathered her things.”

Edelgard spoke up. “I had a talk with Dorothea, and I can only hope this can all be put behind us. She is normally a good ally and reliable, but what she did today was out of line.”

Byleth nodded mutely, then looked to Wren. “What did you two argue about?”

Wren gulped. She was pretty sure no one else really knew this about her. Perhaps Edelgard, since she was the house leader and needed to know a lot of things, and she had no doubt Hubert pulled some stuff up, but it was embarrassing all the same. “Professor, I told you why I don’t use my right hand, remember? When I hurt Dorothea during training?”

Byleth thought back on that day and remembered the terse conversation. “Yes, I do.”

“Well, she pointed out the scar and said some mean things. I almost attacked her. Thankfully, Ferdinand stopped me. What he said is true.”

Byleth processed that information. “Then I need to talk to Dorothea as well. I can’t have you two feuding when an important and dangerous mission is coming up.”

“You’re right...” Wren just stared at her shoes. “I was just...so upset.”

“It’s normal to feel that way. It’s a weakness and none of us want that sort of thing exposed. Go to lunch. Stay close to your friends. If you’re feeling up to it, come to training for the second half today.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Of course. Now, be on your way.”

Ferdinand and Wren grabbed the rest of their things and headed out of the classroom. They’d get lunch and maybe the others would join them.

Edelgard and Hubert did stay behind, intent on talking more to Byleth. About what, Wren didn’t know. She hoped it had nothing to do with her.

She was thankful she had good people in her life. This wasn’t Avennar, but it was slowly becoming home.

Sylvain had skipped the entirety of class and he knew if he left the stables, he’d only be reprimanded by his friends. Manuela didn’t take roll, so she probably didn’t even notice. Although, he did consider hitting on her, moreso as a joke, but he felt like that wasn’t the best idea right now. He didn’t need to dig his grave deeper.

He had sat for the two hours class would have taken, hiding behind some hay so none of the animal caretakers would notice him, writing that stupid letter that he'd drop off at the counselor's box, wondering if whoever read those would take him seriously. He wrote about how he wanted forgiveness when he felt he didn't deserve it, and how to change for the better. Unusual for him, but since this was supposed to be anonymous, hopefully the would-be counselor wouldn't be biased against him. Now that class was over, he approached a horse, petting its snout gently.

The horse didn’t seem to mind, enjoying his touch. Sylvain felt at peace. Animals were so easy. Animals listened and didn’t judge. They didn’t say rude things and they didn’t care. They just wanted interaction and food. It was easy to like them. Sylvain was very pleased he was being encouraged to class as a cavalier in the future when he was strong enough. Riding had always been a strength.

That included another kind of riding…

He heard quiet footsteps and turned to see Marianne. She looked incredibly shy.

“Ah-! Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here… Or that you liked horses...”

“Oh! Yeah, I really like them actually. I’m training to be a cavalier, so I’ve been focusing on lancework and riding. I’m not sure you knew that since we don’t share a class.”

She wouldn’t look him in the eye, but she nodded. “That’s great… So, are you on stable duty today?”

Sylvain just chuckled, looking away because he was caught. “Actually, I skipped class so I don’t know my assignment today.”

“Oh.”

He stared at the horse and Marianne stared at her feet. He needed to say something…

“Marianne, would you like to have lunch with me?” Sylvain finally asked. She seemed nice and he wouldn’t mind talking to her. She was different from Wren, but he still thought she was pretty, even if she looked exhausted and depressed all the time.

“Oh! No, but thank you for the offer. I’m afraid I would only bore you...”

“Nah, no one can bore me! I always enjoy a conversation with a beautiful lady.” He winked at her.

It was the wrong thing to do. “Oh! I have to go!” Marianne scurried off and Sylvain felt like he was off his game. Ladies always wanted to have lunch with him.

"Wait, Marianne, please!" he called after her. "Could you do me a favor?"

She did stop, looking tentatively at him. "What is it?"

"You go to the cathedral a lot, right?"

"I do."

He pulled the letter out of his pocket. "Do you think...you could drop this off at the counselor's box? I'm a bit embarrassed to do it myself... I don't really go to the cathedral anyway."

"Oh, um, sure." She took the letter from him.

"Please don't read it?" he said, his voice hitching like it was a question.

"I won't." She made to walk away, but stopped. "Um, have a good day, Sylvain."

"Oh, uh... Thank you."

She hurried away in the direction of the cathedral and Sylvain sighed, staring at her shrinking form. Another girl he offended.

He figured maybe he should find a gaggle of girls to impress and internally grimaced at the vapid things they’d say or do. Thoughtless, their only intent to get with him because he was such a ‘prize.’

His Crest was the prize, not him, and that was Sylvain’s biggest insecurity.

Not many people were like Wren though. He figured Mercedes and Annette weren’t out for him either. They seemed nice enough. And Wren had made it clear she didn’t care.

She only cared about his loyalty, and she now knew that wasn’t something he was always capable of.

Would he die for his friends? Yes, even though they really got under his skin. They were the closest thing to real family he had, because his brother hated him and his parents coddled him.

Maybe if he fought for Wren, jumped in the way of an enemy attack to save her, to sacrifice himself, but somehow survive, maybe then she’d know he was being real. But they weren’t in the same class.

Sometimes Byleth asked for mission assistance from other students, in hopes of recruiting them. It would probably take a while before other students would really take to her, but she had a strange sort of charisma people liked. She was enigmatic, pretty, skilled, and despite she seemed like a blank canvas, she did care, always finding lost items for students and even giving them things they’d like. It was endearing and Sylvain liked that. He wouldn’t mind joining her class, but she’d have to ask him first.

He could approach her, but he knew she was aware of the ‘thing’ going on between him and Wren, though he was sure she didn’t know about the tension right now. Maybe she wouldn’t want a student that was only going to distract one from her home house. A conundrum to be sure.

Sylvain just patted the horse again, murmuring thanks for the company, and went off to the dining hall, where he knew his friends would reprimand him, but he was hungry, and found he didn’t care about anything else right now.

He felt very empty, more than usual, and he didn’t like that. Something, or someone, had to fill the void.

Maybe it was a good thing he wrote to the counselor after all.

Chapter 12: A Lesson in Trust

Summary:

Wren has a talk with Seteth and Sylvain is berated by his friends. They come together to discuss their feelings.

Notes:

Anyone else losing track of time? It feels like five years have passed but we're only a month away from 2021.

The only way I'm getting through life is writing about Sylvain LMAO I hope everyone else appreciates that.

Wren knew she shouldn’t have, but she opted to skip lunch. She didn’t want her friends surrounding her with pity and apologies. She wanted to be alone and maybe cry a little.

She hated this feeling. She hadn’t felt so remorseful in so long. She regretted the night she gave herself that wound because it didn’t help, it didn’t work, and when it was healed, she was told to never talk about it, so it became the family’s dirty little secret. Wren wore long sleeves for a long time, keeping it wrapped even, telling people she injured herself while fencing or whatever. Eventually, after many healing sessions from her mother, who was determined to make the scar go away, it was healed to the point it wasn’t as noticeable. It took a very long time, but it was slightly paler than her skin and only upon close inspection would it be noticed. Thank the goddess for small favors. Wren finally felt comfortable wearing short sleeves again, and only her closest friends knew the real reason. As long as she didn’t bring attention to it, no one would know, and that worked for several years.

Sylvain had been the first person that wasn’t in her immediate group of friends to ever see it. Dorothea was the second. Petra by proxy saw it too, and now her other friends were aware of it. She hoped they wouldn’t ask about it. Maybe Edelgard would tell them to keep mum, and Hubert would probably threaten them.

Why had she let herself fall so deeply into despair so long ago? And now she was alone again, self-imposed, and she knew this wasn’t good for her mental health. She needed to be around someone so she wouldn’t do another thing to be regretted. She wanted to be held, distracted, to draw or write, anything to make her forget this awful day.

She wondered if Seteth was available. Despite the punishment he imposed on them, he was someone she did respect and she had enjoyed the few times they wrote together. Maybe if she brought her notebook, he’d be interested.

She walked to her room to grab her things, slipping on her jacket despite the heat, and walked to the second story, in hopes of finding Seteth.

She was lucky and did find him in his office. He looked like he was lost in his work, but she hoped all the same he’d at least talk to her.

“Um, Seteth?” she asked shyly.

He immediately looked up from his work. “Oh! Wren, it is good to see you. What do you need?”

“I hope I’m not intruding or anything, and I understand you must be busy, but I was wondering if we could talk? And maybe write together like we used to.”

Seteth studied her for a moment. She looked very insecure, very upset, and she obviously needed someone to be with, if only for a moment to distract her from whatever had her worried.

“Of course. In fact, I was working on a fable right now.”

“Oh! I’m so relieved.” She let herself into his office, plopping into a chair. “I haven’t written in a while, but I do have some ideas for the adventure story I was writing.”

“Wonderful. I am happy to discuss it.”

So Wren spent the entire lunch hour talking with Seteth. He saw how animated she became, excited to share one of her creations. The sadness he saw earlier seemed to dissipate, but once the bell rang to end the lunch hour, she looked somber again.

“Ah, second half of class is starting soon. Professor Byleth wanted us to train at the grounds.” She then remembered she had destroyed the dummies the previous night. She didn’t let that realization light her face though. No one needed to know that happened.

“I will say, you do seem troubled. Do you want to talk about it? I will happily write a tardy note for you to give to your professor.”

Wren paused, ruminating on his words. She didn’t want to mention Sylvain. Seteth would only tell her he was right all along. But the Dorothea thing…

“Well, one of my secrets was let out today by a classmate I don’t get along with. I’m embarrassed. I don’t normally bother with gossip, but this is something I never wanted to get out. Now I’m afraid it will and I don’t want, like, to be treated with kid gloves just because of this thing.” She wrung her hands and Seteth did notice she was dressed differently today. Namely, she was wearing a jacket at the beginning of summer. She had to be uncomfortable.

“What is the secret? I promise I will not judge. This is clearly important to you.” He had to know so he could at least give her advice, if not console her.

“Um, it’s...really bad. To me at least. Even my family doesn’t talk about it.”

How bad could something be that even her parents wouldn’t acknowledge it? Most of the time, nobles didn’t like to discuss their daughters being assaulted and...terminating the consequence of that assault. He didn’t like to think about it, especially since Flayn was his…

“Did someone...hurt you?”

She saw the concern and protectiveness in his face. She knew what he was thinking.

“Nothing like that! This only involves me.”

“I know it must be painful, but if you need a willing and sympathetic ear...”

She gulped. She really was going to tell him. Maybe someone else should know, an adult who actually cared, even if he was strict.

“Seteth… I tried to kill myself a few years ago.”

He froze. That was a very serious thing to admit.

She saw how he stayed silent and only grew more embarrassed and ashamed. “My parents hate talking about it. They think I’m a huge disappointment that I hated my life that much. They said I was some rebel who thought I could escape and my mother did everything she could to minimize the scar.” She took off her jacket and rolled up her sleeve. “It’s nearly invisible, but if you really investigate, you can see it.”

He saw the slight shine of what was once a very deep cut leading up from her wrist. He didn’t let his emotions out, fearing expressing them would only make her shy away. He brought a hand to his face, stroking his beard.

“You must have been in a lot of pain to have done this,” he finally said.

“I was… I felt like no one cared about me anymore. At least, not my parents… They were too busy with my younger sister.”

Seteth was aware of Wren’s Crest. He was aware of her situation. He didn’t realize that had affected her so deeply she felt like her life was forfeit, just that she wanted to run away.

This must have been the reason for why she had done so in the first place, sneaking out to find a purpose, to find a distraction, because the suicide attempt was thwarted.

“Yes, I believe we talked about that.”

She nodded. “It still upsets me, but all I can do is move forward and pretend everything is normal. It’s why...” She did not want to say that’s one of the reasons she liked Sylvain. That he related to her. That they had similar circumstances, just inverted. That she enjoyed being around him because he was fun and kind in a weird way and that he didn’t judge her. That he also liked to live freely and wildly and that he didn’t care anymore.

That he made her feel alive again.

“It is why what?” Seteth asked.

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Clearly it is not.”

She stayed silent, not wanting to admit it.

“There is something at this academy that is keeping you inspired to continue. I know you joined the choir and that you are well liked there. You have fit yourself in among your classmates and you have done well in school, that one incident notwithstanding. But despite those normal things, you do seem happier, or at least, happier than you have been in the past apparently. What has made you want to live on?”

Here it was. The big reveal.

“Sylvain.”

Seteth made a face that was a mixture of disbelief and also regret.

“He is certainly...colorful.”

She found herself smiling. “He’s an idiot, but he’s my idiot and honestly he makes me happy. Like I’m alive again, and not just going through the motions.”

Seteth considered those words. “Well, I suppose we all need a vice.”

She snorted. “He’s hardly that. Well, maybe he is in a sense, but he’s really not all bad. We have more in common than you’d think.”

“I am not sure I want to know...” Seteth said carefully.

“We just have similar circumstances and beliefs. And we both like art and literature so we can talk about that extensively.” They were also horny in their own way, but she couldn’t tell that to her very religious advisor.

“Hmm, then that is good. As long as neither of you engage in any regrettable behavior, I suppose your kinship is not a bad thing.”

“Yeah.” She realized that she still talked warmly of Sylvain, despite what he had said yesterday. She was still mad about that, but it was lessening with time, and it hadn’t changed her feelings at all. She just merely wanted space and it was helping her. “I do admit he said something hurtful yesterday, not directly to me, just part of a conversation with some other classmates, but it still upset me and we may be sort of feuding… Or at least I am.”

Seteth tilted his head to the side, curious. “What did he say?”

She looked to the ceiling, realizing that maybe she got mad for no reason. She already knew Sylvain’s prior feelings, even when he followed her to choir practice. He was pretty infamous.

“Just what everyone else has said. That he only wants to play around with girls because they’re just out to use him, and his parents will only set him up with someone he doesn’t even know so he might as well have as much fun as he can because his life is over after school.” She sighed. “It was something I was already aware of, but what we have, or had, or whatever, felt genuine. I’m pretty good at reading him, and around me I admit he’s lied, but not about how he feels for me. He lies about himself and I can tell he isn’t happy.”

Seteth thought about that. “It is not surprising he is not happy with himself. It is sad though that he takes that out on others.”

“Yeah… But overall, he’s a lot kinder than people give him credit for, and he’s really intelligent and witty. I enjoy our conversations. He keeps me on my toes, even if I can see his intentions kilometers away.”

“Well, at least you are self-aware. I am sorry you have been hurt by him, but if what you say is true, and he does like you, I think it will work out.”

“I hope so...” She looked at Seteth and smiled. “Thank you for talking with me today. I feel a lot better.”

“Of course! I am always happy to give advice and listen when needed. I do hope you can work this out and continue your work here. Ignore what your classmates may say; you are clearly stronger than they know.”

She blushed at that. Not many people said that sort of thing to her, mostly because she tried not to show weakness and desired to be the best. “That really means a lot, Seteth.”

He smiled at her. “You are very welcome, Wren.” He looked to the clock in his office. “I am afraid I have kept you too long. I hope you have not missed lunch.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I wasn’t very hungry anyway.” She got up to leave.

“Be careful. You are training this afternoon after all. Stay focused on your task.”

“I will!” she chirped. “See you around!”

“Good bye!” he called after her.

Seteth looked to the work he had written along with Wren. He also thought about Flayn. He hoped that he had never treated her as cruelly as Wren’s parents had and hoped that Flayn would come to him with any sort of problem. But sometimes he felt like she dodged questions and no longer enjoyed being with him. It hurt him more deeply than he liked to admit.

He was now determined to be a good… brother to Flayn and discuss these sorts of things with her. Hopefully, she’d reciprocate.

In the meantime, Sylvain’s friends were not happy he skipped class. As Wren and Seteth had their hour together, he entered the dining hall as surreptitiously as he could, trying to shorten himself and hide behind some other students, but they still saw his striking red hair and his tall stature despite trying to shrink himself and they walked to him brusquely.

“Sylvain, you truly are an idiot,” Ingrid said upon approaching him. Sylvain straightened to his full height, dwarfing her. He tried to say something but then Felix cut in.

“It’s that girl, isn’t it? I thought she was still mad at you. Did you have your talk?”

Sylvain grimaced. “No, we didn’t.”

“Then where were you?!” Ingrid yelled. “After what we discussed earlier, I was actually worried.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes, sighing. “Ingrid, you’re not my mother. I am clearly fine.”

“Where did you go then?” Dimitri finally asked. “We really were all concerned for your well-being. Did you go to the infirmary after all?”

Sylvain looked to the side. He didn’t want to give away his preferred hideaway. “No. I just found a quiet spot to sit and think. I needed space. I...even wrote a letter to the counseling box. I wasn’t focused enough to go to class so it would have been a waste anyway.”

Felix and Ingrid didn’t like that he wasn’t revealing where he went. It must have not been a bad place, because he was there, unscathed, but Ingrid did smell something.

“Were you at the stables?” she asked, scrunching her brow as she realized she smelled hay on him.

“Pfft, no,” Sylvain lied. It wasn’t his best lie, but then again, they all saw through his lies. “Why would I even go there?”

“Sylvain, you like horses and you’re training to be a cavalier. It only makes sense you’d want to be there,” Felix deadpanned.

“Well, whatever. I’m here now, and I’m getting food. You want me to sit with you all, or are you just going to continue to berate me when I’ve already had a pretty terrible twenty-four hours?”

“You just had a disagreement with a girl.” Felix stayed true to his word and didn’t mention the solo training match Wren had against the dummies. It was going to be a shock to the whole school when they realized they were all destroyed. He hoped Wren and Sylvain left no evidence of being there.

“I think it was more than a disagreement. She clearly hates my guts now and wants nothing to do with me. Most people get over a disagreement. What I’ve done is a crime against her and I doubt I’ll be forgiven.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. You two were practically glued to the hip yesterday. She’ll get over it, or you’ll charm your way into her good graces.”

Sylvain didn’t like that Ingrid seemed to know a little bit about yesterday. He’d have to ask her later. He also couldn’t admit that his charm and charisma and all his lines did not work on Wren. She was similar to Ingrid in that respect: feminine enough to be attractive, but not so much that they were idiots around a boy who gave them attention. Maybe Mercedes and Annette were also immune, and he already knew Dorothea was considering their ill-fated date, but most of the time he got away with some heinous behavior with other girls.

“Maybe,” was all he could say. “We’ll see. I have a feeling it won’t work though.”

“It’s not important anymore. We still have to practice sword and reason today, and Manuela for once is serious about it, even if our mission isn’t as dangerous as the Black Eagles’.”

“They’re going to Zanado, right?” Dimitri asked, thankful for the distraction. “The bandits that chased us are holing up there, I believe.”

“Yeah, and that area isn’t known for being hospitable. My bets are someone is going to die, or at least get injured enough they have to be left behind,” Felix said callously. “The church really shouldn’t… Ugh, it just seems like we’re being used for some greater cause,” he groused.

“Felix, you love swinging your sword though,” Ingrid pointed out.

“Sure, but on my own terms. I don’t fight for causes that don’t fit my agenda. I am not a sycophant nor a slave to ideals.”

Dimitri knew what he was referring to. “Felix, it wasn’t...”

“Don’t tell me what it was and wasn’t. I saw you. It was bloodshed over something that doesn’t matter.”

Felix noticed Dedue, quietly at Dimitri’s side, not saying a word. “I don’t see why you’re loyal to someone’s whose people eradicated yours.”

“Felix!” Dimitri yelled, mad that Felix would say such a thing to one of his greatest friends. “Dedue is a kind and gentle-”

“Don’t care what he is. He shouldn’t follow you blindly,” Felix bit back.

Ingrid didn’t say anything, because she still felt uneasy around Dedue. She didn’t want to upset Dimitri because she blamed Dedue’s people on her fiance’s murder, but she also didn’t want to offend Felix by defending Dimitri and the knights that died valiantly. She was a mediator at heart, but this wasn’t something she could easily insert herself, considering she didn’t really agree with either party.

Felix hated chivalry and Dimitri hated prejudice. This was not an easy fight.

Sylvain finally interjected. “If you two are done with your hissy fit, I’m going to grab lunch and find some people who aren’t still mad over something more complicated than you’d think.”

“The hell do you know?!” Felix yelled after Sylvain, who grabbed whatever the special was (those spicy dango that Wren laughed at). “You didn’t have family die!”

“People who died at the hands of barbarians!” Ingrid finally admitted. “You don’t know anything, Sylvain!”

Sylvain was a lot smarter than people thought, and he knew that the Tragedy was not the Duscur people’s fault. There was something more going on there, but people didn’t like to dig deeper than they had to. They blamed people whose culture they didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand, and just chalked it up to evil and jealousy. Sylvain knew more about foreign diplomatic matters than the others. He often looked for books that discussed the Sreng people’s culture, the people who lived across the border of his territory and unfortunately the library was very sparse in that regard. Some history, but most of it bloody and how the church had to be involved to save Fódlan or whatever. A bunch of bull in his opinion. His family dealt with Sreng and though his family didn’t think kindly of them, it was Sylvain’s dream to amend that relationship, to bring people together, not drive them apart.

It was something he hated talking about, because no one would believe him.

He simply ignored his friends’ insults and backlash and went to find the people he said he’d find. He looked around and saw Wren’s normal group of friends, even Mercedes and Annette, but Wren wasn’t to be seen. He found that a little concerning. He wanted to hear her bitch about how the food wasn’t spicy enough.

He saw Byleth though, looking around. He knew that she sometimes found students to talk with them. She seemed more curious than she appeared. He decided...he’d ask to join her class after all. Nothing more convincing than eating a meal together right? Lots of things were agreed on during a meal.

“Professor!” Sylvain called out, grabbing her attention. “Mind if I join you today?”

“Oh. Sure.” She continued looking around. “I wanted to eat with Bernadetta since I feel like I know nothing about her. I am concerned.”

“Luring girls is my specialty, Professor. I can totally help you,” Sylvain insinuated.

“I don’t think Bernadetta is the type of girl who’d appreciate that,” Byleth replied. She then looked quizzically at Sylvain. “I’m surprised you aren’t eating with Wren.”

Sylvain sat at a table, hoping the professor would join him. She did, her own food in front of her. “I didn’t see her around. And besides, we’re sort of...fighting.”

“Lovers’ quarrel?” she asked. “I’m afraid I have little experience with that.”

“Yeah, you aren’t wrong. Although I’d hardly say we’re lovers.”

“Your kissing at the dock says otherwise,” Byleth said slyly. Sylvain could only blush.

“Well, yeah, but that’s as far as it’s-” No, it did go farther. “Actually, I don’t think I want to talk about that. I have something else I want to discuss with you.”

“Oh? What is it?”

Sylvain picked at his food. “Would you consider letting me join your class? I’m, uh, not doing well in mine.”

“I heard you scored perfect on your exams though. Clearly you aren’t doing badly.” Byleth pointed out.

“Ah, academically I’m fine. Class isn’t the issue. It’s that I am starting to realize maybe the Blue Lions and what the kingdom of Faerghus represents don’t really align with my own beliefs anymore.” He ate a piece of his food. He chewed thoughtfully. “My friends and I are starting to part, or at least, I’m starting to. I’ve really gotten along with some Black Eagles, or at least, I feel like they’re a little more welcoming, my interest in Wren aside.” He looked at her pleadingly. “Would you consider me? I will be the perfect example of a good student. The best.”

She pursed her lips, examining him. “I don’t see why not. You’re capable and if you’re having that much of a disagreement with your Blue Lions classmates, then I’ll happily accept you. Consider yourself a Black Eagle. I’ll grab your records from Manuela later.”

Sylvain beamed. “You’re the best, Professor!”

She gave him a tiny smile. It was the most he had ever seen on her. “I only want everyone to succeed. If you feel like you’ll succeed in my class, then I’ll see to it.”

“Yeah, thanks again!”

She chuckled. “Perhaps this will give you an opportunity to fix whatever issue you have with Wren. I think you two have something others don’t always receive.”

“A love lesson? That’s not something I receive often.” Sylvain said, smirking. “I’m intrigued with what you may say.”

She finished her food. “If Wren has accepted you so willingly, you can’t be that bad. She is not the type to make friends with everybody. I have certainly witnessed that today.” She looked thoughtful. “Her friends are supportive of her, but I think making up with you, amending whatever, would be good for her. You two seemed very happy together, and I think she needs that.”

Sylvain wondered what had happened, but figured he’d rather hear it from Wren herself. “Thank you, professor. I will definitely do my best.”

“Good.” She got up. “Finish up. My class is training today. I want everyone to focus on their technique to succeed on our mission. I’m a little uneasy, considering none of you have actual battle experience.”

Sylvain nodded. “Sure.”

As she walked away, she said, “I’ll see what I can do to assign you with Wren as sparring partners. It’ll be interesting to see.”

More like dangerous, but he’d do it if it meant they’d actually talk.

Lunch ended and Wren had certainly missed it. Oh well, she knew it was the not-super-spicy-dango and she didn’t want to put herself through that. She went off to the training grounds, knowing she’d be one of the first.

She in fact was the first and simply waited around for the rest of her class. It wasn’t too long before they started filing in, but when she saw the professor walking alongside Sylvain, she felt nervous.

Why was he here?

Byleth walked to the middle of the grounds, ready to tell her students what to do.

“Today, I intend for everyone to work on their technique, including defensive tactics and evasion. This will be vital since we do not know exactly how many we’ll be engaging and I certainly don’t want to lose any of you. This is a dangerous mission. I cannot stress that enough.”

She turned to find some training dummies to use as an example but stopped in her tracks.

“Where...are the training dummies?”

Wren was not about to admit she destroyed them all. Sylvain wanted to laugh since he knew what happened but he kept a straight face.

“I will have to let Jeritza know,” Byleth finally said. “Anyway! I will have each of you using your preferred weapon against someone with their own, and I will oversee your progress, guiding you and advising on how to improve.”

Her students all grabbed their favorite weapons. Sylvain favored the lance and Wren the sword. Byleth spoke again.

“I know some of you are magic users, but if you have a weapon you’d like to learn, please pick it. I will have you practice your magic when we are done with this first task.”

Linhardt hated this but grabbed a sword as did Dorothea. Hubert was once told by Byleth that she was interested in seeing him work towards the Dark Knight class so he picked a lance. When everyone had their weapon, Byleth began listing off pairs.

“Linhardt, you’ll be sparring with Edelgard.”

“Does she want me to die…” Linhardt muttered.

“Bernadetta…!” But Bernadetta wasn’t there. Byleth sighed. “She needs to practice the bow at the very least...” She shrugged it off. “Dorothea… Hubert!”

“This will be interesting,” Hubert all but cackled to himself. Maybe he’d get the revenge Wren wanted.

“Caspar and Petra!”

“Oh a speedy opponent! Let’s go!” Caspar cheered.

“I will be doing my best,” Petra replied.

“That leaves...” Byleth counted out the rest of her class. She called other students to pair up and they did so. Wren saw that one choir girl Reyna must have joined their class and was paired up with a boy who had also been from Annevar. They didn’t get along though. He was a stuffy noble and she wanted nothing to do with him.

“Ferdinand, you’ll be paired with me,” Byleth called out.

“Oh? How intriguing! I will do my best, Professor!”

Byleth nodded to him. She turned to Wren. “You’ll be with Sylvain.”

Wren looked dumbstruck. “He’s not even in our class, or is he our mission assistance this month?” Wren was confused. It wasn’t abnormal for them to train with the mission assistants, but it was very coincidental that Sylvain was the one this month.

“I haven’t picked a student for that. This mission is too dangerous and I’d hate for someone else’s student to get hurt in my class.”

“Then why in the eternal flames...”

“Sylvain has joined our class.” Byleth stated flatly. “I hope that isn’t a problem.”

Under normal circumstances it wasn’t, but considering the fight…

But she had talked about him so fervently to Seteth. In a way, she was happy he was now in her class. Maybe they could have that talk after all.

After she annihilated him in training.

“It’s not a problem, Professor,” Wren said, catching her friends’ eyes. They knew it was definitely a problem.

“Okay then. Everyone, take a stance and begin on my signal.”

Everyone had stationed themselves, ready to fight.

“And...GO.”

Wren was an aggressive fighter and she knew Sylvain probably witnessed that. To go easy on him though, and to mollify Byleth, she used her right hand.

Of course, she knew she could throw him off by switching mid-swing…

Sylvain was actually scared for his life. If seeing her train last night was a nightmare, then this was actual hell. He was actually in the eternal flames, being besot by an actual demon. Wren fought with a ferocity he had never seen before, except in maybe Felix, Ingrid, and Dimitri. She meant business.

Sylvain did notice she was using her right hand, when the previous night she had used her left. It was pre-drunken-stupor, so he remembered it pretty clearly, but this felt… off.

She was still intense, but it seemed like somehow she was holding back. This wasn’t what he saw last night. At times, she did look unsure and she seemed to grip the sword more tightly than she needed to, like she’d lose it if she didn’t.

He was still scared for his life though. Even if she was rusty or tired, he knew she would absolutely wipe the floor with him.

He blocked a swing and he had to ask in that moment of stillness. “Why are you using your right hand?”

She pulled back, dodging a thrust from his lance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Definitely a lie. “I mean, I saw-” and then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to mention what happened last night. It would incriminate them. “I’ve heard you’re left handed?” He wasn’t too sure if that was true, but last night was definitely an indication.

“Doesn’t matter. I have to use my right hand. That’s what’s proper.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes as she tried to stab him. “You don’t care about that though.”

“True, but it’s important to train regardless of a weakness.”

Her right arm was weak? That explained why she used her left…

He parried and she jumped back, ready to defend. “I don’t know, I kinda like the Wren who is true to herself.”

She studied him. Was he trying to throw her off?

She blocked a swing, spinning to gain distance. He swung again and she blocked.

“I don’t care what you like,” she said but he heard the smile in her voice.

“I think you do...” he suggested, blocking one of her swings. “I like you after all. You don’t like that?”

Oh he was definitely trying to throw her off. If she didn’t end this now, he’d just continue to tease her and she didn’t want that in front of her classmates.

“Maybe!” she yelled as she spun, descending to swipe him off his feet. Sylvain was ready to jump to avoid it, but somehow mid-spin, she switched hands and changed her trajectory, spinning upwards. It completely caught him off guard and he found the tip of her sword at his throat.

“I like you like this,” she said, her voice a bit husky and gravelly from exertion, and Sylvain felt a shiver go down his spine. He was terrified and also aroused and maybe a little bit worried over how red her face was. It wasn't from embarrassment. 

“I’m definitely into this,” he admitted, throwing his hands up in surrender.

They stared at each other a moment, Sylvain wondering what she’d do with her sword at his throat, but then he saw her crack a smile and she started laughing. He didn’t know what to think of that, but she retracted her sword.

“Goddess, you really are an idiot.” She giggled and bent forward, clutching her knees to catch her breath and hide her red face. Maybe she was embarrassed. “Why would you say something like that? Do you think that’d throw off a would-be opponent?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t thinking about that at all. I was thinking about how hot you are.”

Their other classmates had mostly finished, now watching this display. Even Byleth was transfixed.

“Don’t go saying embarrassing things like that. We’re training. This isn’t a time for your flirting.” Wren tried to play it off nonchalant, but Sylvain saw she was upended.

“No, I mean, you look hot. Why are you wearing a jacket right now? You’re going to die of heat stroke.”

He hadn’t thought of it before, but she really was wearing her jacket, sleeves rolled down and everything. She had to be uncomfortable, sweaty, and desperate to cool off.

“It’s nothing,” she said, but if it was meant to be biting, it certainly wasn’t. A weak statement, indicating something was bothering her.

Byleth had mentioned something happened earlier today, and he wondered if that was why she was like this.

“Well, let’s talk about it later. We’re sort of making a scene.” He bent down to grab his lance and Wren clutched her sword to somehow ground herself.

She needed to talk to Sylvain. She wanted to talk to Sylvain. Her conversation with Seteth earlier indicated as much. And Mercedes and Annette even said there was more going on with him than she knew.

They needed to clear the air, let some frustration out through training, and then they’d have a calm mind.

For the rest of the afternoon, Byleth went over everyone’s area of improvement and allowed the magic users to practice their special interest as well. Wren had wanted to practice more of her reason, and so did Sylvain, but Byleth pulled them aside when the others were distracted and told them to find a corner and talk.

So Wren knew that Byleth knew. Sylvain must have said something.

They did find a reclusive area in the stands, overseeing everyone else. They talked quietly, not wanting to garner attention.

“Wren, I know I’ve said it already, but I truly am sorry. I shouldn’t have let myself get emotional like that. It’s just...a sore spot, you know?”

“I know,” she mumbled, and he heard the tears in her voice.

“Please don’t cry. I hate it when girls cry.”

She sniffed. “How do I know that’s not a lie? Haven’t you said things like that before?”

Sylvain ran a hand through his hair, knowing she was right. “Yeah, I have, but this time I really mean it. I mean, I don’t like it when a girl cries. That’s the truth. It’s just uncomfortable, but it happens when you’re a guy like me… It kinda sucks.”

“It lets you know you really are being a jerk and that you’ve let yourself sink that low.” Wren said in response.

“Yeah… That’s exactly it. I used to not want to change. This was who I am. And now… I find that maybe there are other ways to live.”

She scoffed, but it wasn’t harsh. “Are you going to say because of me? That would be very unlikely.”

Sylvain looked at her, very serious. “It is though. I really like you. I mean that. You’re fun and unexpected and quirky. We can talk about a lot of the same things. We get each other, you know?”

She sniffled again. “I know.”

“So… Can you forgive me? I’m really trying to be better. I mean, you helped me last night and you really didn’t need to. Probably didn’t want to.”

She laughed. “You’re right! I shouldn’t have. I didn’t want to at all. But,” she paused, somber, “you just looked so pathetic and you looked at me like I was some ‘angel’ as you drunkenly said, and it was kinda flattering. I didn’t want you to get in trouble when we had just gotten out of it. I promised to give you a chance. I see potential in you, even if you don’t see it in yourself, and I just want you to be your best. You need to learn to love yourself, Sylvain. You’re more likable than you think.”

No one had ever told him that before. He always thought it was his Crest. It usually was. Or at least, that’s how he perceived it. But to be fair, a lot of people back home only cared about that, so really, why wouldn’t he be jaded?

“So… You like me?”

She looked away, mad that he caught her. She read him, not the other way around!

“Yeah, I do, you moron. I’m pretty sure I’ve said it.”

“Yeah, but I like hearing you say it. I’ll never get tired of it.” He swung an arm around her. “Look at us, two lovebirds, sitting together and talking about our feelings.” He hugged her close to his side. He whispered in her ear, “I don’t usually talk about my feelings, but I trust you.”

Trust… Trust was very important, and Wren cherished it. She trusted (some) of her classmates, but somehow having Sylvain’s trust felt more special.

“I trust you, too.” Then she wrapped her own arm around his waist. “I’m glad we’re talking again. I realized today that I like you a lot more than I was mad at you. I may have talked with Seteth about what happened earlier today and the conversation flowed into our weird relationship and…” She took a breath. “I told Seteth you made me very happy and he was actually glad to hear it.”

Sylvain hugged her closer. “Must have been one hell of a conversation to change Seteth’s mind like that.”

“There was a lot more to it. I’ve had a really rough past but I think I can work through it if you stay by my side.”

Sylvain sighed happily. “I’ve been through it too. We’ll have to talk about it. It’ll enlighten some things.”

“It will.”

Caspar then whistled at them. “C’mon you two! Time to go! The Blue Lions’ turn is up!”

Sylvain grimaced, pulling his arm away but gripping Wren’s hand. “They don’t know I switched classes.”

She held his hand securely. “That’s their loss.”

Sylvain turned and her smile was so genuine he couldn’t help but kiss her.

They both tasted like salty sweat but Wren just laughed against his lips and so did Sylvain.

She tilted her head. “Time to show them how much happier you are.”

He coughed, trying to hide his feelings on that statement. “Yeah, hah, if you say so.”

“Don’t lie to me now, Sylvain.” she warned, but he could tell it was lighthearted. “I know you’re happy.”

He gave her a big grin. “You’re right. I am.”

They joined their classmates and passed by the Blue Lions. His childhood friends stared at him incredulously, noting that Sylvain and Wren were holding hands, and at the same time, as if in sync, they gave the Blue Lions a rude gesture. They gasped and the twosome just laughed, bumping heads together because being close was so much better than being apart.

Wren wasn’t sure this was love, but she found she was very fond of this foxy fellow.

Chapter 13: Togetherness

Summary:

The students fight at the Red Canyon and consider their place. Wren and Sylvain have a touching talk.

Notes:

Hello all! I have managed to injure my back so I'll be writing and binge watching shows for the next few days. As always, I hope you enjoy.

The rest of the week went by as it usually did, except Sylvain was in her class and he proved to be a giant distraction. They sat together and normally Wren liked to sit in the middle, close to the front but not so close as to be a teacher’s pet, but Sylvain favored sitting in the back, namely to chat her up about anything and nothing. For the first two days she let this happen, but after being called out in class for not paying attention by none other than Byleth mid-lecture, Wren insisted they stay in the middle so she could at least take notes. She told Sylvain to just write stupid little love poems again if he really wanted to do something not academically related. Sylvain smirked and worked on some of his best work. (By best, it was said they were so filthy that even Wren told him to destroy them. He did not.) She did not understand how Sylvain did so well in class when all he did was act a fool quietly, writing his dirty little poems, sometimes accompanied with crude drawings that made Wren blush.

To get back at him for being so crude, she did as any girl taking notes in class did when she had a crush: she wrote her name, followed by his last. During one such lecture when Sylvain slid a nasty note to her, she in turn slid over her notes, tapping on the elegantly written cursive of her name written as Wren Gautier and the look on Sylvain’s face was of surprise. He smiled, then with a single blink he blushed, another turned into a look of horror, and then he just chuckled shyly. She meant nothing by it of course; she didn’t think about marriage too seriously. She had fun with him now and that was all she really wanted.

Of course, after that particular lecture, on the way to lunch, Sylvain did pull her aside and ask her what that stunt was about.

“Sylvain, it was a joke. You were being gross so I figured what I wrote would bother you.” She realized she was sounding a bit callous. “Please don’t misunderstand; if we got married in the end, that would be great, but it’s not something I’m after right now.” He still looked suspicious but she amended with, “Sylvain, in the end, I don’t care about your house. I don’t care about your Crest. I don’t care about any of that stupid shit. I care about you, and if I got married to you, it would be because I actually lo-” and she choked on the word. “Uh, well, it wouldn’t be for superficial reasons. It would be legitimate, you know?”

He stared at her for a moment, but this was the first time a girl had said something genuine like that regarding marriage so he had no problem believing her.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he admitted. “I would want the same.”

“Good.” And they strode into the dining hall to eat. Later that day, they would have their final practical lecture, and the morning after, they’d leave for the Red Canyon and apprehend those bandits.

Apprehend is a funny word for kill.

When that morning arrived, it was dawn. Wren rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Sylvain had stayed in her room late into the night just to talk. He was expressing some nerves about the upcoming mission which she thought was interesting. She’d be remiss to say she didn’t feel the same, so she was happy she could discuss it with Sylvain. She knew the others were a bit antsy. What exactly was the battlefield like? It seemed like only Edelgard and Hubert weren’t as disturbed at the prospect of killing people, even if those people were bandits.

The Battle of the Eagle and the Lion was simply a simulation and there were no stakes, using wooden weapons to beat the snot out of each other. Mild bruising was ideally the worst of it, maybe a sprain or a splinter. This was actual life or death.

Wren had dressed in her myrmidon uniform, glad to know hers in particular was black. Black was comforting. It was the shadows she kept to as she sneaked out, the nights she reveled in. It smelled of smoky bars and the city at midnight. It tasted of alcohol on the breath of a stolen kiss.

Wren equipped her favored blades and Byleth did recommend she possibly bring some gauntlets in case she needed to duke it out with some bandits. Wren thought that wise.

She assembled with her classmates at the gates, looking them all over. Edelgard was a fighter and Wren thought she looked quite lovely in the red dress with the fringe that revealed just a hint of thigh. Wren would be a liar if she said she didn’t love thighs.

Sylvain was a soldier, his outfit almost entirely black, like the depths of his soul she wanted to dive into. Something about that was...very hot. It made his fiery hair stand out even more. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him but she’d have to today. This was an important mission.

When Byleth called out the roll and everyone was determined to be there, they set out for the Red Canyon.

It was a grueling march. While the Red Canyon wasn’t the farthest place they could travel to, it was still a long way and the students could only march so far before they’d tire. But this was why Byleth had them undergo endurance training.

By the afternoon, the Red Canyon was on the horizon and the students hastened to make it there quickly. Some of the bandits had seen them and they retreated deeper. Byleth tutted, knowing the bandits were only trapping themselves. Her reports told her that there weren’t many, so it would be relatively easy...for her. She wasn’t sure about her students. But Byleth had been killing people since she could properly wield a sword so this was nothing to her, and it would hopefully be nothing to her students as time went on.

On the other hand, because of their small numbers, the bandits could be luring them into a trap, but she highly doubted that. Bandits weren’t known for their strategy and cunning.

They had made it to the entrance and Byleth told them all to stay on their toes. There were three bandits keeping guard, hoping to fend off the group of students. Three against a relatively large class? Idiots.

Byleth instructed Edelgard to charge, knowing the more experienced house leader would be a good boost to morale for everyone else. With ease, Edelgard took one down. Hubert was right behind her, sniping him with Miasma.

There was just the one left and Byleth told Ferdinand to strike. He looked green around the gills, but if Edelgard could do it, he could too, and much better.

With the three taken down, everyone slowly moved further in. There were three more bandits to the northeast, approaching them cautiously. In the distance Byleth could see a healer further in, past the three, and to the west there were two, one guarding a chest.

Petra was going to be her thief unit in the future, so she had given Petra a key for any potential treasure. Byleth was right in assuming there would be at least one.

Sending Petra with Dorothea and a small battalion of other students to the west for that chest, the rest of the class went after the other bandits.

These bandits had no trouble charging the students and Byleth grimaced as one took a particularly nasty slice to the chest. Linhardt was there to heal them as they fell back and Caspar went in to land a devastating blow to the man’s jugular.

They all knew it would be bloody. They all were told to prepare themselves for this. But some of the students truly looked disgusted. Some vomited. One fainted. Dorothea was hit by the one guarding the chest and screamed for help as Petra went in and stabbed the man easily through the heart.

She watched as Sylvain charged an archer who was aiming his sights on Wren. She had managed to evade and while the archer attempted to nock a new arrow, Sylvain skewered him on his lance, even going so far as to lift the man off the ground, lance still speared through him, and Sylvain swung over his own head to smash the man on the ground, snapping his neck. His strength was incredible and Byleth was beyond impressed. Sylvain loved to goof off, but he was clearly capable.

The few bandits that were left were terrified but had nowhere to run. They could not escape. Students were doing this? Whelps who hadn’t even cut their teeth yet were slaughtering them without a problem? Some injuries, sure, but there were yet to be casualties. This mercenary that had bested them last time was one hell of a Professor.

Byleth had gotten to the leader, a man named Kostas that Byleth had bested before, and stood before him with her sword. He was clearly a man of slightly higher skill than his peons and her students were shaken up, already upset they had killed so many. Some at least. Edelgard and Hubert naturally weren’t as bothered, Caspar seemed fine, as did Petra, but the others were hesitant. Even Wren looked unsure of herself. The others of various backgrounds also looked sick. Byleth wondered if any of these students would drop out of Garreg Mach, knowing what the school was really about.

Something about this situation, about a church claiming to love peace sending students off to be jury and executioner did not sit right with Byleth. They were not mercenaries or soldiers. They were young people with hopes and dreams. Learning to fight was important, sure, but she doubted any of these students had actual desires of warfare and bloodshed. This wasn’t fair to them and she was increasingly aware of it.

Her father did say to watch out for Rhea. She was starting to see why.

With very little effort on her part, Byleth killed Kostas before her students could really be aware it was over. She wanted them out of here as quickly as possible. She was known as the Ashen Demon, but she realized that even one of skill as hers had something of a heart, something she had never considered before. Something about being a professor had changed her.

With Kostas dead, Byleth turned, motioning for the students to move out. The sooner they were out of here, the better.

It was nearly midnight before they finally returned. They made stops along the way for students who felt sick, who needed to pause and have a small breakdown, or simply to drink water. The day was exhausting, even for her, and every little rest was appreciated. But being ‘home’ at Garreg Mach clearly gave them all comfort.

Some immediately left for the showers. Some went to grab food at the dining hall that was requested to stay open later than usual for the students on this mission. Some went to the cathedral to pray for the lost souls and to soothe their own shaken hearts. Some had stayed in the front hall and hugged and cried. Seeing all these reactions stirred something in Byleth. Pity? Concern? A foreign feeling whatever it was.

Jeralt had come down from his office to greet her. “How’d it go, kiddo?”

“Fine enough. No severe injuries except for one who took a stab at the chest but they were quickly healed. They all just look...”

“Horrified? Yeah, not too surprising. These brats only ever had the concern of what was next on the menu or if their crush felt the same. This was a harsh lesson in reality.” He sighed. “I don’t envy them. While it doesn't bother me at all anymore, and neither you, it still makes you feel sorry for them, doesn’t it?”

Byleth nodded. “I never considered this before. It feels like I’ve always killed. Life has always felt so inconsequential to me.”

Jeralt grimaced, but wasn’t too surprised. His daughter had never shown any sort of emotion. She had never cried, laughed, and he doubted she ever had actual legitimate affection even for him. As a father, that hurt, but this was his Byleth and he was used to it. He was just glad his kid was strong enough to stay tough and only hoped for her continued survival. He’d always love her.

“Sometimes, in the grand scheme of things, it kind of is, but it doesn’t stop people from cherishing it and fighting to protect it. That was our job as mercenaries: protect our employers and their property and livelihoods, and kill those that threatened that.”

“Yes, it was.” Byleth then shrugged. “I think I’m going to fish for a while. Do you want to join me?”

“An invitation? Huh. Sure kid.” Byleth didn’t mind spending time with others, but it was rarely ever initiated by her. The fact that she wanted him to be with her had to be an effect from these brats she oversaw.

Jeralt followed his daughter to the fishing pond as the rest of the monastery tried to find their own solace.

Wren and Sylvain lingered by her dorm. Both of them tried to downplay the horror they felt at what they had done earlier that day, but neither wanted to admit it. The previous night, it was almost easy to discuss their worries. Now that it was done, it wasn’t something that was easily broached.

They simply stood in front of her door, facing each other, holding both their hands, staring at them. Right now they were so easily together, tethered by their hands. But there wasn’t anything stopping them from being killed in another battle. While today surely wasn’t the worst they would ever go through (if only they could see the future), it still shook them up. Today they were together. Tomorrow? Sure. Next mission? Could be their last. There was no way to know for sure.

Wren finally retracted her hands. “I’m going to gather my things and shower.”

“Me too. I need to wash away this… whatever it is.”

“Yeah...” She turned away, unlocking her door. “I’ll see you around.”

“Of course.” He left and she went in. She felt like crying. She felt like she should cry. But they were just bandits, people who had almost killed her other classmates, people who had killed and pillaged and otherwise harmed. They were not to be mourned. And yet… They were once alive. It seemed horribly unfair that life dealt them such a crappy hand that they ended up like this. Why would the goddess let such things happen?

But Wren remembered she didn’t really care for the goddess so that question would be left unanswered.

She went off to shower and then perhaps grab a meal if the dining hall was still open, and then sleep. She had to move on.

She hoped everyone else could do the same.

Hours later, the monastery seemed to find peace and everyone had gone to sleep, except…

Sylvain had a nightmare.

Sylvain didn’t talk feelings. A lot of people knew this. It took a bit of work for others to get more out of him than he’d usually allow. Most knew he hated his Crest should they ask. He almost never talked about his older brother, except to his closest friends, and he mentioned him briefly to Wren. Very few knew of his lack of self-worth. But it was so much deeper than that. It ran so deeply in his bones that sometimes...he often thought about ending it all. What was the point of living if no one saw any good in you besides things that you had no control over? And when he did try, it was all 'because of his Crest'. His good breeding. There was nothing inherently good about the young man Sylvain, but the well-known Sylvain Jose Gautier of House Gautier, the family relic the Lance of Ruin, the successful security of the border of Sreng? All of those things were better than any genuine thing he could do in droves. It was upsetting.

At one point, he genuinely meant all of the flirting he did. He loved a pretty girl. He loved giving out compliments and seeing them blush, even Ingrid’s grandmother. And that scarecrow? If it was sentient, it would have loved what he had to say. Sylvain loved to dance and hold hands. He craved actual intimacy, not the motions of something insincere. Anyone could have sex. Sex was enjoyable. It did not always need love involved though and that was why he could easily engage. But he would have loved to lie in bed next to someone who actually cared, holding them and absorbing their warmth as they talked about their day, of the things they liked, the little trivia they knew. Loathe was he to admit it, but he was heartbroken he’d never have that.

So that’s why he had played with girls. It was easy to do at the monastery because none of them really knew him except where he came from and his name and family legacy, which was easy to brag about because it was rehearsed at this point. They didn’t care about the real him, so he didn’t care about them at all.

And then he met Wren, the girl with determination in her gaze but a kind heart. She held strength, a bit of mischief, and honesty. She was forthright in her desires and intentions. It threw Sylvain off at first, but he began to cherish it. Mercedes was right; it was nice to have that one person in his life he could throw his whole self into. Sylvain wanted to lift her up, put her on a pedestal, because she deserved the world. He should sing praises to her as he initially said. But the words were caught in his throat, tangled and unsure. It was one thing to put them on paper in a silly poem or write a sappy letter. She needed to hear what he had to say. Something beyond ‘I really like you’ or ‘you’re cute.’ He could always go to an easy line that hooked any fish in the sea, but Wren was a rare creature deep in the ocean, something he’d never see again, and he needed to capture her heart as she did his.

He could admit it now. He was beyond fond of her. She had a hold on his heart. She drove him crazy and he wanted to sweep her off her feet. But she was constantly moving, keeping him on his toes. He didn’t know how he could catch up.

But that had nothing to do with the nightmare he had.

Sylvain was at the canyon, fighting alongside his classmates. His former friends of Dimitri, Ingrid, and Felix were there. Everything was slow, he felt like he couldn’t swing his lance and he was on edge.

And then everyone disappeared. He was by himself, no enemies in sight, but then he heard his brother’s awful voice, that drawl of evil he had come to hate, and Sylvain was frightened. His legs were weak, shaking, and his brother loomed over him, intent on killing him this time. Miklan had made several attempts in the past. He was the one that ruined Sylvain’s eyesight, which was why Sylvain avoided using the bow at all costs. No one needed to know he had trouble seeing things from afar. Miklan had broken a bottle on Sylvain’s face, swinging it without care, and it shattered, a few small shards scratching his eyes. He was taken to a healer and it saved his sight to an extent. But the damage was there; anything in the distance was a blur to Sylvain.

His parents wanted him to wear glasses and Sylvain immediately said no. People made fun of little boys wearing glasses. He wouldn’t be seen as this cool, tall, charming boy; he would become some wimp that couldn’t even see. How could he let himself be so weak? He hated sitting in the front of class because only nerds did that, so he kept to the back and goofed off because being seen as a behavioral problem by his teachers was better than being seen as a loser by his peers.

Sylvain kept up with that act even at Garreg Mach. He doubted even his friends were aware of his affliction.

There were countless other incidents where Miklan was cruel to Sylvain. He had never been outwardly kind to him. Sylvain remembered how Miklan would grasp his tiny chubby toddler arms and twist the skin so it burned. He pulled at his pretty red hair, saying it was so girly with how shiny and bright it was. He tripped Sylvain. He’d put bugs in his food. It only got worse as they got older, becoming deadly even. He was pushed into a well. He was left in the forest and had no idea how to get back home. He had no idea how his family had found him either time. He was fortunate.

Sometimes he wondered if it would have been kinder if the goddess had let him die in the cold. Anything would have been better than Miklan’s constant torture.

Miklan had injured Sylvain a few other times besides the glass in his eyes. Little things and sometimes bigger things that left a bruise here or there. But one of the worst was the night his parents claimed Sylvain was officially the heir of House Gautier and held a celebratory dinner. Sylvain did not know why Miklan had bothered to attend. He was going to be cast aside anyway. In a rage, he threw a knife at him at the dinner that had lodged itself in Sylvain’s shoulder. Their parents threw a fit, his mother fussing over him as their father slapped Miklan in the face and had guards escort him out. There, it was officially said that Miklan was disinherited and was thrown outside the grounds, instructed to never return. His things would be burned and as far as the family was concerned, he could too.

Sylvain had not seen Miklan since and he hoped he never would.

But it seemed Miklan was still haunting Sylvain’s dreams. He was tired of this. He knew if he saw his brother, they’d be evenly matched. Sylvain was sure his Crest would overpower his stupid brother, something he hated admitting because that was the reason they feuded in the first place, but if his brother had to be truly eliminated, maybe then he’d find peace.

That was the feeling he woke up to at least. Miklan had swung at Sylvain with the Lance of Ruin and Sylvain had ejected himself out of the dream before he could know death.

His body was damp with sweat and consequently so was his blanket. He didn’t want to shower again but he did need to cool off or blow some steam. Maybe a visit to the sauna was a good idea. They had the day off after the mission just to rest and Sylvain was thankful for that. He’d chill out, hang out with Wren and her friends, and hopefully forget about that awful dream. The mission itself had been terrible so naturally the stress from that manifested in a nightmare about his brother going after him again.

He saw it was daylight already and he wondered if Wren was up. He dressed in simple clothes for the sauna visit, wondering if he should invite her. He wouldn’t have minded holding her hand and saying sweet nothings even if she hated them. Mindless flirting was a surefire way of relieving his troubles.

Well, there was another way but Wren was reluctant still.

He went downstairs and straight to her room, knocking earnestly. He heard a mumbled ‘give me a minute’, some rustling, and then a lock moving and there she was, glorious cerulean bedhead and sleepy crimson eyes.

“Oh, good morning,” she yawned, but she did look happy to see him. “You’re a nice sight to wake up to.”

He didn’t expect the compliment so he was a little tongue-twisted but regained composure. “Well, thanks. I couldn’t help but want to grace you with my presence this morning.”

“Hmm, if you say so.” She stretched and yawned and he couldn’t help but peek at her chest. Her sleeping shirt was loose and long so he saw her bare thighs and her perky…

“Hey, don’t stare. You woke me up, perv.”

Without missing a beat, he found himself saying, “You’re a tall glass of water and I am parched.”

She stuck her tongue out, scrunching her face up. “That’s… I really don’t know what to say to that.”

“Well, you could always let me drink you up...”

She gagged. “Sylvain, it’s too early for that.” But then she started laughing. “Goddess, even early in the morning you’re still thirsty.”

“Baby, I just told you I’m parched and you’ll relieve that. C’mon, keep up.”

She rolled her eyes, leaning against the door frame. “So what brings you to my room first thing in the morning?”

He stretched his arm out, leaning against the door frame as well to gain some vantage. She didn’t shrink away and he loved that. “I wanted to stop by the sauna. Blow off some steam you know? And I would like for you to accompany me.”

“Blow off some steam, huh? Didn’t know you liked to steal Alois’ jokes.”

“Has he said that one? I can’t say I speak to him a lot.”

She shrugged. “I don’t either, but I’ve heard of his legendary puns. Most people think they’re kind of cheesy but I like humor like that. He’s a nice enough guy.”

“Sure… Anyway, what do you say? A trip to the sauna and then breakfast?”

She considered it a moment. “Yeah, I think I’d enjoy that.”

“Cool. You need a minute to dress? I can’t say I wouldn’t mind you showing up like that… I doubt there’s anyone else there this early...”

She slapped his arm off the door frame. “That’s nasty. No, let me put on something a bit more decent than my night shirt.”

She shut the door and Sylvain couldn’t help but chuckle. She didn’t flinch at his words, simply encouraged them by not reprimanding him, and was still willing to join him.

She really was too good for him.

She finally exited and locked her door. She wore similar clothing to him, the typical sauna fare, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “So, are you going to keep staring, or are we going to blow off steam?”

“I mean, I would love to blow off steam with you in your bed, but the sauna will have to do.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?”

She looked at his arm and smirked. “You’re not escorting me like some damsel fluttering her eyelashes at you. Let’s just walk.”

He feigned pouting. “We’ve held hands before though!”

She shrugged. “I was feeling generous then. I’ll hold your hand later.”

He sighed dramatically and she ignored him. They headed to the sauna. Sylvain was chuckling to himself, sighing happily.

“Why are you making those weird noises?” Wren asked, curious at his blithe attitude.

“I’m very pleased right now,” he responded honestly.

“Because I’m going to the sauna with you? It’s really that easy, huh?”

“I always love being with a pretty lady,” he dodged the question.

She groaned. “You don’t have to throw lines at me, Sylvain. You already...” She was not going to say he had her. That implied more than she was willing to feel.

“Hmm?”

She looked away. “Don’t worry about it. Just be honest with me, okay? I don’t need flowery words or elaborate confessions. Just be yourself. I really prefer that.”

He paused. “You really don’t like my lines, do you?”

She turned to him. “I don’t. It’s unnecessary. We’ve already established we like each other. It’s kinda cute but I know you’ve said the same things to hundreds of other girls so it feels stale. Tell me real compliments. Sing your actual praises, hmm?”

Hundreds was an overstatement. Probably. And she still wanted those praises.

“I’ll find those words, okay? Someday. But right now I only know the lines. Please know I really do mean them, even if they seem put on.”

“Whatever,” she said and they ascended the stairs to the sauna. “I liked your poems. Maybe be clever. Even if you’re just going to say you want to sleep with me in a hundred poetic ways, I like that way more than pickup lines.”

“Hmm, noted.” They approached the sauna boss and he let them in. Just like Sylvain said, there was no one there this early.

Hopefully it stayed that way.

Sylvain set the amount of coals he preferred and let the steam build. He sat next to Wren, rather closely, but she didn’t pull away. She was rather comfortable with him actually and something about that made his heart soar.

It shouldn’t have. He’d been this close, even closer, to many girls before, but this felt right.

Wren closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Sylvain liked how at-peace she looked. She was leaning against the back of the bench, head raised as she let the heat swim over her.

Sylvain did the same. The silence was comfortable. Doing nothing with someone you liked was pleasant.

He did find himself reaching for her hand and taking it and she relaxed into his. He couldn’t help but smile and kept a tight hold.

The room had lessened in steaminess and Wren let him go to apply more coals. She turned to him. “You still want to be in here?”

“Yeah, just a little while more. I like sitting here with you.”

Her face was already flushed from the heat but it somehow became redder. “Sure...” She placed more coals and sat next to him again. Their thighs were brushing.

Sylvain felt jolts of excitement shoot up his legs. They were holding hands again and he was screaming inside his own head in joy.

“You are so absurd,” he heard her say. He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was looking at him and smirking.

“Why?” he asked as he returned that smirk.

“You just look so absurdly happy. You’re like, a puppy or something. So easily pleased.”

Sylvain never really thought about it. He loved attention, especially when it was genuine. He remembered how he used to reach out to Felix, asking if he wanted to grab food, only to be rebutted. He enjoyed talking to people but it always seemed like people wanted to nag him, not ask if he was okay when sometimes he wasn’t. The one time he was asked if he was okay was when he skipped class before switching to the Black Eagles but he was immediately berated for being upset over a girl and… that was infuriating. They really never considered why he chased girls and when he was finally serious over one, it was somehow worse in their eyes.

He wasn’t sure how to explain that to Wren. He wasn’t sure she’d understand.

“I… I just like… Touch.” It was weak and he felt like a child barely able to express words, but it was all he could say with the heat addling his brain.

She considered him a moment. He was staring at her with such forlorn eyes. She recognized the look of someone who just needed a hug. She could oblige that.

“Do you need a hug?” she asked. His face relaxed. The confused and unsure look in his face disappeared.

“I’d love that.”

She stood up, taking him with her. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands rubbing his back. Her head was turned to the side so she could listen to his heart. Sylvain held tight to her, holding her head tightly against his chest and the other pressing her torso into him. He rested his chin on the crown of her head.

They stayed like that for several heartbeats and she heard, felt, his deep breaths as he seemed to find his own inner peace. She couldn’t help but do the same.

This was so nice after such a strange moon. If she could stay like this all day, she’d have no complaints.

He finally pulled away, albeit reluctantly, hands on her shoulders. “You wanna grab breakfast now?”

“Yeah.”

They put the coals out and left. Sylvain walked with her to her room but could see the sweat radiating off her back.

“Hey, let’s get dressed together.”

She turned, perplexed. “I’m sorry? You want to what?”

He put his hands up, waving them. “No funny business! I thought you’d like for someone to wipe the sweat off your back, and maybe you’d return the favor?”

She thought about it. It was such an intimate gesture and actually incredibly sweet, but this was still Sylvain so…

“That’s a really nice thought, but maybe next time.”

He visibly deflated. “Oh.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that big a deal, Sylvain. We’re still going to eat breakfast together.” She winked at him. “How about I give you a kiss when I see you at the dining hall?”

He wasn’t sure what she was playing at. “Are you messing with me?” he asked.

“What? No! I like kissing you! You don’t like kissing me?”

“No! I adore kissing you!”

She scoffed. “Then I don’t see the problem.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t know… One minute you don’t want me to touch you but then you want to touch me… I don’t understand.”

She sighed. “Sylvain, I like doing things on my terms. This is really a new experience for me. I don’t want to be taken advantage of.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m going to get dressed now, but I promise I’ll give you a big smooch when I see you, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded and she left.

Sylvain wanted to touch her so badly. He loved hugging her in the sauna, kissing her on the pier… He loved holding her body in his arms. He truly wanted to give her a nice gesture of wiping her back but he supposed maybe it was a bit too forward after all.

Well, one day he would… It just wouldn’t be this day.

He went off to change and to further wonder about how this relationship had progressed. There was still so much ground to cover, but they had come a long a way.

When he finally changed he headed to the dining hall, and there was Wren, waiting for him. She smiled at him and he couldn’t help but take her in. Sure, she was just wearing her uniform, but today it seemed like the top hugged very tightly against her chest, the skirt perhaps a bit shorter, her thighs exposed only for her tall socks to cover the rest… She looked delectable and Sylvain wanted her for breakfast.

“Hey, you’re looking good as always,” he greeted as if he hadn’t just seen her.

“It’s just my uniform, you dork.” She gave him a very exaggerated once-over. “Gotta say, those beige pants really complement those long legs of yours.”

Sylvain made a pose and Wren laughed. “What can I say? I have the body of a god.”

“The body of a nymph perhaps. Maybe one day you’ll reach god status.” She winked at him. “Come over here.” She grabbed his wrists and pulled him to her. Sylvain found he was suddenly very close to her and her knowing hands traveled up his chest to latch onto his jaw and she pulled him in, kissing him. Sylvain wrapped his arms around her waist and just breathed her in. Her arms were now around his neck and all he could taste was her.

They had to come up for air eventually though.

She patted his cheek. “How was that?”

He smiled, his eyes a bit love-drunk. “You made good on your promise.”

“I am a woman of my word.” She grabbed his hand, leading him into the dining hall. “Let’s eat okay? Nothing better to ease our cares than a meal with company right?”

“Right.”

Holding Wren’s hand, laughing over breakfast with her friends, Sylvain completely forgot his nightmare. He felt safe and secure with Wren, and no phantom in his dreams could ever surpass that.

Chapter 14: Celebratory Sleepover

Summary:

It's Sylvain's birthday and the Black Eagles celebrate. Wren has a request and Sylvain abides.

Notes:

Sorry this is a day late. I went to a chiropractor yesterday and wow did my back sing. I'm feeling a lot better now so here's to the weekly update!

This was supposed to be slightly smutty, I suppose the dated term is lime, but I nixed it because it felt entirely too soon

yes I am old enough to know what lemons and limes are

The farther the Zanado mission date went, the more relaxed everyone became. Class went by, new things were learned, but the middle of that week was Sylvain’s birthday. The fifth of Garland Moon, a day so bright and sunny just like the young man born under it.

His former childhood friends said nothing to him, still mad that he left their class. The Black Eagles were very exuberant though and hooted and hollered at dinner that night wishing Sylvain a very loud happy birthday (minus Hubert and Edelgard, the former giving a mysterious “I suppose you no longer regret being born...” and the latter saying a polite but well-meaning “Happy birthday, Sylvain. May you have many more.”) Mercedes and Annette had stopped by the table with a cake they had baked.

“We miss you in class, Sylvain, but I’m very happy to know you’re enjoying yourself. Annie and I made this for you, because we still care about you and want you to be happy.” Mercedes placed candles on the cake and Annette clapped happily.

“Ready everyone! Let’s sing!”

So the Black Eagles and the two Blue Lions sang the celebratory song to Sylvain, and for the first time in a very long time, if ever, Sylvain felt happy. The kind of happiness that told him he was valued and cherished and that he was special and important because he was Sylvain, not because he had a Crest or that he came from a noble family. No, here, in this moment, he was beloved by his (new) friends and (potential) girlfriend.

Dinner had ended and everyone said their goodbyes. Sylvain walked Wren to her room. The light was fading, but the sunset was still so radiant. The dorms were bathed in magenta and orange and faint hues of lavender.

But then Wren turned around to say good night and the way the light hit her… Her eyes seemed ablaze and her hair seemed to absorb the light. She radiated it, brighter even than the sun.

“I found it,” Sylvain said without thinking.

Wren looked at him quizzically. “You found what?”

“Your praise. Remember? You wanted me to sing praises to you?”

She scoffed. “I think it was you who wanted to sing praises to me. I was just teasing you.”

He shook his head. “No, I did find you your praise though. I’m not gonna sing it, since I’m flat apparently, but I’ll happily say it.” He said with a slight smirk.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Alright. Let’s hear it then.”

“You’re like sunshine. The sun brings out your beauty and you brighten my day. You just radiate light.” He realized how sentimental he was sounding and looked away. “So yeah. You’re sunshine. My… Sunshine...”

Her initial reaction was to laugh, so she did. “Sylvain! Oh my goddess that is so….cheesy!” But then she paused, considering his words. “You’re not lying...are you?”

“It’s the truth!” Sylvain all but yelled, feeling himself go clammy. “I really mean it!”

She smiled bashfully. “That’s sweet...” She noted how he was blushing. It was hard to tell in the dimming light, but his face was definitely a redder shade. “Hmm, maybe I should call you sweet cheeks.” She patted said cheeks affectionately.

He swatted her hand away, bashful. “What?! No! That’s embarrassing!”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the guy known to declare his love to girls on the daily. You are definitely more embarrassing.”

He pounded his chest with a fist. “That was the old me! New me is all about you.” He seemed proud of himself for that statement.

“Whatever. Good night, Sylvain.” She raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

Sylvain was startled. Whenever she initiated contact, he felt electricity go through his skin. It was like he was suddenly on alert, malfunctioning because he couldn’t quite process mutual, honest attraction.

He knew though that Wren really liked him. It was hard to believe sometimes, but it was there. The feelings were there. His heart was there, and hers was too, and it was all he could ask for. Sylvain wanted very few things out of life, but one of them was for a true love when he never thought he’d have that.

Maybe wishes do come true.

“Yeah, good night,” he responded, his gaze soft and his smile gentle.

Wren felt her heart seize for a moment. Sylvain looked so happy. He deserved it, especially on his birthday.

“Oh! Um, I forgot something,” she said, remembering something she had wanted to ask him.

“Yeah?” He held her hands in his, the grip loose but it helped ground her.

“I...had a question for you, or maybe a request? I don’t know, it seemed fitting to talk about on your birthday, considering it might be something you want...”

He perked up at that. Was it finally going to happen? “What is it?”

She knew something like this wasn’t asked in such a childish way, but she had never gone about this before so…

“Sylvain… Would you like me to be your girlfriend?” She bit her lip, hoping for a positive answer. He’d want that, right? They went through a lot of weird things together, so it only made sense to go steady.

“I… I thought you were?” he asked, confused. “Or, maybe we never actually said it out loud?”

“No, we didn’t.”

He nodded, holding her hands a little more tightly now. “Well, yeah, you’re my girlfriend, and I’m happy to say it out loud now.”

“Wonderful. Well, boyfriend, I wish you a good night. Think of me, okay?” She winked at him.

He had thought about her a lot at night actually. He tried not to dive into his fantasies, but sometimes they were too good to pass up. “I think of you all the time!”

“Not sure I want to know what about...”

He pulled her close. “You know exactly what I’m thinking about.” He gripped her tightly, soaking in her warmth.

For once, she didn’t pull away. It felt very natural to stand there and hold each other. Wren wanted to take him to her room and hold him tightly in bed (fully clothed of course) but she also didn’t want to lead him on. He was being patient with her and she appreciated it.

“Actually, I had a thought,” she said quietly. “Since it’s your birthday and all, and we just declared we’re together, would you…like to spend the night in my room?”

Sylvain pulled away, still gripping her shoulders. “Haven't I before?”

“Well, yeah, before the mission, but you were on the floor so...”

Oh. Oh. She meant...

“You want me to sleep in your bed?”

“Um, yeah. Since it's your birthday and all. I figured maybe we could...cuddle?” She looked away, suddenly incredibly embarrassed. “Maybe that sounds stupid.”

Sylvain couldn't help but smile. Wren made him feel so welcomed. “It's not. I'd love to hold you in my arms.”

She looked at him very seriously. “No funny business... Unless I ask.”

“Oh? So maybe there can be something a bit beyond fondling...?”

She shrugged. “Well, if the mood strikes.”

He smirked as she led him into her room. “Wow, you're never that bold.”

“Pfft, I'm always bold, you dork.” She slipped her shoes off and sat on her bed. “I just...”

I care about you and cherish you. You consume my thoughts and set fire to my soul. I love…

She couldn’t say that out loud. Not yet. It wouldn’t be right to say that on his birthday when they had just declared they were a couple. There were steps to this and she’d say it in time.

There was so much she wanted to say. There was so much she needed to say. She wanted to tell him her life story, all of her experiences, good and bad, but for now, she wanted to rest and listen to his heartbeat. For now, they could just be together and enjoy the moment.

“Hey, uh, you want to shower first? I should probably grab some things...” Sylvain admitted. He'd rather go straight to the cuddling to be frank, but being clean also sounded nice.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I'll go ahead. We'll reconvene here after.”

He pulled her up, enveloping her in a hug. “Cool.” He kissed her forehead. “I'll see you soon.”

“Mhmm.” He left and she grabbed her things. She felt...emboldened. This was something new. She had talked late into the night with Sylvain before, but this was going to be very intimate, moreso than normal. She was actually excited, if not somewhat nervous.

She entered the showers and saw Dorothea finishing up some nightly routine. They shared a resentful glare but Dorothea scoffed, put away her things, and left without another glance. Wren couldn’t be happier.

Wren showered as quickly as she could, cleaning herself thoroughly and shaving what needed to be shaved. It wasn’t to impress Sylvain of course, but her own comfort. Perhaps he’d like that too but that wasn’t her intent.

Drying quickly, she dressed in her sleeping clothes, brushed her teeth, did her skin routine, and left.

Her door was ajar and she did feel some sort of dread. Not over Sylvain, but over the fact she left her door unlocked and someone could have just walked in. It would be devastating if someone broke in and found her ‘contraband’ as Shamir put it.

Thankfully it was Sylvain, sitting on her bed in comfortable clothing. He smiled upon her entrance.

“Ah, there’s my sunshine. You took a while.”

“Eh, you know... Girl stuff, I guess.” She was suddenly very aware she had shaved everything. “I'm pretty thorough.”

“Oh, well okay.” He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but the aroma coming off her was incredibly soothing. A little floral, sweet, but not overwhelming. It was decidedly her and he loved it.

She climbed into bed next to him and they figured out a sleeping position together. They faced each other, Sylvain wrapping his arms around her waist, her head against his chest.

“This is very nice,” she said quietly. “I could get used to this.”

“Heh, me too. What a nice birthday present.”

She felt a pang of regret. She wanted to give Sylvain what he really wanted, but it wasn't the time yet... She liked just laying with him. Soon, sure, but for now, she just liked being close. He could always get closer later, in the way he desired.

She desired it too, of course, but now wasn't the time.

The words were dying in her throat. I really like you, Sylvain. You make me so happy. Why was it easy to tell Seteth that, or anyone else for that matter, but to Sylvain, the one she cared for dearly, it was so difficult? It should have been easy.

Perhaps it was that vulnerability, the idea that rejection was still possible. They made it pretty clear they liked each other several times. But something about lying in his arms on his birthday made it even more difficult.

This was deeper than a schoolyard crush. This was something that lay in the depths of her heart, her very being resonating with him.

A part of her wanted to cry. She was moved to the brink of her every emotion, and she felt herself swell with happiness. This was what she always wanted. There were people around her that loved her. Friends, teachers, sometimes her family when they weren't disappointed with her... But this was the love she craved. The kind that said “You are not alone.”

Her own arms wrapped around Sylvain and she pushed herself as far into his body as she could. Their hearts beat together and it was incredibly relaxing.

“You okay, sunshine?” he asked softly. “You're being awfully quiet.”

“I'm fine, Sylvain. More than fine, really...” she whispered. “Just keep me close.”

“Always,” he breathed into her hair. “I could never let you go.”

She bit her lip, trying not to smile, trying not to cry. It was so conflicting, but she was very happy anyway.

She fell asleep more quickly than she realized and Sylvain realized that as she went limp in his arms. He squeezed her tightly, suddenly aware that he was holding his girlfriend in her bed and nothing naughty was happening and he was glad. It wasn't very often that Sylvain Jose Gautier found pleasure in just cuddling. No. This was beyond that.

Sylvain had known it almost immediately, but Wren was something special, something he'd never have again, and he knew in his heart that he loved her. He didn't want to say it out loud, because he was afraid he'd sound insincere. It was so soon, and he was known to lie about that so easily. Whenever he decided to tell her, it had to be at the right moment.

For now, he could only whisper it into her hair, knowing she wouldn't be aware of it.

Dreams assailed Wren's mind. Dreams of battling in some unknown war, fighting alongside Sylvain. Then suddenly, he was gone, taken by the enemy. She tried running but everything was in slow motion. She couldn’t get there fast enough.

But somehow she did and took down her enemies. Sylvain was safe in her arms and suddenly they were married and she was having his child. A fast-paced life but at the same time she felt happy, as if that was all she wanted. Well, maybe not the war part, but living a life together and starting a family. It was cozy.

It would be the family they wanted, deserved, and they would treat their future children with love and dignity that their parents didn’t grant them.

Future… Did Wren really see a future with him? They practically just met. They didn’t know a lot of each other, but enough that they were comfortable and any topic could possibly be breached. She knew she’d have to talk about the scar on her arm, the sadness she had felt so deeply. The loneliness that few could satisfy. How attending the academy was a blessing in disguise. Laughing at inconsequential things and crying over serious matters. She wanted to share it all. She hoped Sylvain did too.

She awoke, hearing slight birdsong. A cat meowing. A dog yipping. It seemed the day had finally started and in bed with her boyfriend and needed to get to class.

As it turned out, Sylvain was already awake, looking at her with such a sweet gaze. Lovingly. Lovingly? That was a surprise but not unwelcome. She grinned at him, kissing his nose.

“Good morning,” she whispered, voice a bit raspy having just woken up.

“Good morning. Sleep well?”

“Yeah.” She snuggled closer into him. “I don’t want to get out of bed, but we have to.”

“Mmm, maybe a few minutes more,” he admitted, holding her tighter. She felt him breathe in her scent. It was soothing.

She was starting to sweat though and pulled away. “Alright, time to get ready.”

“Ah, okay.” He sat up, stretching. She heard his shoulders pop. She did the same and then got out of bed to find her uniform and then head to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

As she walked to her wardrobe to pick out her clothes, Sylvain hopped out of her bed and smacked her ass. She yelped but then laughed. Any other person would probably have taken offense, but something about it was nice.

In return, she turned to him and pulled him to her, biting his ear. He yelped as well but chuckled. Something about the interaction was so familiar, so welcome, so domestic. Class was forgotten and it was just them in her room, laughing and feeling joy burst through their entire bodies.

“Okay. Get dressed, sunshine. I’ll see you in class.” Sylvain left, blowing her a kiss.

She caught it, clutching it to her heart. She put on her clothes and then headed to the bathroom.

When all was said and done, they met at the dining hall, giggling upon seeing each other. They felt closer, as if nothing could tear them apart. Wren didn’t want him to leave her side.

How did that proverb Petra taught her go? He who stands by my side has my heart, or something like that? Regardless, it was a lovely sentiment and it was exactly how she felt about Sylvain.

They grabbed breakfast and sat at a table, their normal group of Black Eagles joining them. Petra seemed exuberant as ever, Ferdinand as well, but it seemed it would be Caspar to call them out.

“You two seem awful chummy! Did you celebrate?” He waggled his eyebrows at them.

Wren didn’t want to kiss and tell and neither did Sylvain, so they shared a look and shrugged.

“Just hung out for a while. Nothing you wouldn’t expect us to do,” Sylvain answered diplomatically.

“Aww, I was hoping you guys did something gross.” Caspar was entirely too disappointed for someone not super involved in this relationship progress.

“Uhh, being a couple isn’t gross?” Wren suggested. “You’ll see that one day, Caspar.”

“Couple? So it’s official?” Ferdinand interjected.

Sylvain and Wren clasped hands, raising them to show their union. “Yeah, we talked it through and we’re going steady. Tell everybody at Garreg Mach. Sylvain is no longer on the prowl!” said man declared.

“Oh that is being wonderful! I am being so happy you two have formed a bond.” Petra said enthusiastically. “I was in the root for you.”

“It’s rooting for you, Petra. It’s just a way of saying you were cheering us on.” Wren corrected.

“Ah! My apologies. These Fódlan phrases are odd.”

Wren nodded. “You’re not wrong. Sometimes even I have trouble figuring them out.”

Breakfast went on, conversation turning to other classmates, what their next possible assignment would be, and how once again Linhardt had slept in late. Caspar had rolled his eyes and Ferdinand expressed disappointment that Linhardt wasn’t taking his duties more seriously. Petra insisted Linhardt was very knowledgeable already. Wren and Sylvain just observed, laughing at a joke here and there. The bell then chimed, signaling it was time to go to class. The group walked together, and Wren and Sylvain walked along, hand in hand. The day was already quite hot, but it was still comforting having a warm hand to embrace.

A lot had happened at Garreg Mach, personally and academically. Battles, exams, detention and probation… Wren hoped things would finally calm down. Sylvain was just relieved he finally found a group that accepted him. He could take anything in stride, but Wren found herself worrying over something else happening. Their first mission was to kill bandits… What else did the church have planned? What else could happen?

Only time would tell.

Chapter 15: Revelations

Summary:

Wren and Sylvain discuss parents and self-worth.

Notes:

This past week has been utter chaos. My only day off was Thanksgiving, and I spent the majority of it deep cleaning and reorganizing my room because I took in another chinchilla. My body is super sore and I am mentally exhausted, but hey, new little friend! So it was worth it.

Enjoy the chapter!

When Byleth told her students the next mission was to quell a rebellion in the north, one led by none other than Lord Lonato, Sylvain felt dread pool in his stomach. Lonato was Ashe’s adoptive father and he knew his mousy friend could not be taking this well if he already heard. Sylvain sure didn’t want to be the one to tell him. But he didn’t have to because someone in the church, probably Rhea or Seteth, already told him, and anytime Sylvain saw him, he was ghostly white. Ashe looked so worried and concerned. Sylvain was pretty familiar with family members turning to the dark side and could only pity him really.

Class was class. The school started hosting small tournaments on the free day for students to participate in. It was mostly voluntary, but it was highly recommended for those serious about their training. Two weekends after Sylvain’s birthday would be a sword tournament and Wren was eager to apply.

“You seem excited,” Sylvain commented when Wren submitted her application. “It’s just a tournament.”

“Yeah, but I want to be the best sword user the school has. Honestly, my only competition is Felix.”

“Petra is pretty good though,” Sylvain pointed out.

“Petra is good at everything. I want to be the best at my focus at least.” Wren explained. “Besides, Felix has been nothing but nasty to you and me so it’s time for revenge.”

Sylvain grimaced. “I’m not sure revenge is totally necessary… He’s just kind of a dick.” Sylvain looked shamefully to the ground. “He wasn’t always that way...”

“Well, whatever crawled up his ass to make him that way needs to be put down. I’m so tired of him jeering at us.” Wren recalled the last dinner they had where Felix said something appalling. Something about how she was manipulating him with his own dick. Sylvain, normally laid back, actually became aggressive and told Felix to shut the fuck up, and Jeralt had to pull them apart before it got violent. Felix swore and Sylvain merely rolled his eyes. It seemed Felix was determined to make him an enemy. Unnecessary really, but it was Felix.

With the weekly tournaments, parents were invited if they were interested. It served as not only a parent-faculty day to discuss progress and tour the grounds, but a way for parents to visit without much interruption in education. With Wren’s application, an express messenger would be sent to her parents regardless of her opinion on it.

“I really hope my parents don’t come,” Wren admitted. “I feel like they’ll just say something about how I sneaked out. But I know they receive progress reports so it’s clear I’m doing well. It was just one slip-up.”

“Hey, don’t go good on me now. I like your brand of mischief,” Sylvain chuckled, kissing the crown of her head.

“Yeah, it’s fun, but I hate being lectured by them. I’m so tired of being told to be a good noble when I just want to be a good person. The two don’t always mix, you know?” She leaned into his shoulder as they walked away from the application box.

“Yeah, it sucks,” Sylvain agreed. “Let’s just head back to class. Be a couple of goody-two-shoes. Everyone will like that, right?”

“Pfft, if you say so.” She kissed his cheek. “It’s hard to be a goody-two-shoes with you around.”

“Well, you know me,” Sylvain answered noncommittally. They made it back to class for the second half of the day. “I’m sure even if your parents show up, you’ll still be you.” A thought hit him. “Wait, this will be the first time I’m meeting them.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Wren had yet to write to her parents about their relationship. “I’ll finally get to tell them.”

“What do you think they’ll think of me?” Sylvain asked and Wren noted the tone of concern in his voice.

“Hmm, well, I told you they like people from good houses and Crests… So with that aspect in mind, they’ll like you.”

“Ugh.” Sylvain rolled his eyes.

“I know. But if anyone tells them about the previous rumors, that might change their mind. They’d think you were a bad influence on me, even if I was the one that got us both in trouble.”

“So they’re just like normal noble parents. I’m pretty sure which side of me will win out. And it’s not the side I like.”

“Sylvain,” Wren started carefully. “From what I know of you, I don’t think you like much of yourself at all.”

He stayed silent, lingering by the classroom door. “What makes you say that?” he asked, but his voice was stilted which only told her he was trying to lie through it.

“You don’t have to hide it from me. I’ve known it for a while. We can talk about it more in-depth later though. This isn’t an easy topic.” She kicked a spot on the ground. “For what it’s worth, I like all of you, but you know that.”

“Yeah...” but he didn’t sound very sure of it. “Yeah, let’s talk later.” He tried to make it seem like he was over it, but Wren could see in the stiff smile that didn’t reach the rest of his face that he didn’t want to at all. Sylvain was all about hiding parts of himself, but Wren wanted it all out. She knew she could pull it out if he’d let her.

So they walked into the classroom, neither of them with school on their mind.

When class finally ended, Sylvain was insistent on eating dinner, if only to avoid the conversation Wren was set on having. But when they grabbed their food, Wren pulled him to her room so they could eat in peace and have this talk.

Sylvain sat ungracefully on her floor, picking at the food on the tray before him. Saghert and cream. Not exactly a favorite of his, but he’d rather eat that than talk about the parts of him he’d rather ignore.

“Okay Sylvain,” Wren began, ignoring the rapidly cooling food before her. “I’d like for you to tell me why you hate yourself.” She was blunt about it, and some would see that as offensive, but Wren wanted this out, and beating around the bush would only make Sylvan more hesitant. If she was forthright, he would have no choice but to be the same.

“I… I don’t hate- Yeah, you know what, I do hate myself,” he admitted, also ignoring his food. “It’s gotten better since I’m with you now, but sometimes it really hits hard again.”

“Why is that?” she asked, straight to the point.

“I think you know why.”

She sighed. “Your Crest? How everyone only sees that and not you?”

“Yeah… I just...” He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated and fidgety. “People make it seem like I don’t have any inherent worth. They think I’m great because of this stupid thing I was born with, and not because maybe, just maybe I do have some sort of skill.” He groaned. “I want to be seen for me, not for my Crest.”

“I see you for you,” Wren said plainly.

“I know… It’s why I like you so much.” Sylvain stared at the patterns in her rug. “I wish other people did.”

“Our friends do. Petra really likes you. Caspar does too. Ferdinand might seem a bit obsessed with being a noble, but he likes to see the best in others so they can be their best self, Crest aside. He has faith in everyone.”

“Well, you’re not wrong...” Sylvain said, not wanting to admit she was right.

“Annette and Mercedes like you too. I’m sure Annette said once or twice that you’re smarter than you let on?” Wren remembered overhearing something like that.

“Yeah, she has. And she’s right… I play dumb sometimes.” Sylvain gripped his knees. “Mercedes also sees right through me. She’s like, psychic or something.”

“Heh, she’s just good at that.” Wren looked at him a moment, seeing how dejected he was. His shoulders sagged a little and his brow was creased. “What about your childhood friends?”

Sylvain scoffed. “They’re hardly friends anymore.”

“Well, when they were? What were their opinions on you?”

Sylvain took a moment, trying to remember past conversations. “They always thought I needed to live up to my station. I’m a ‘noble’ so I shouldn’t ‘mess around’. I need to be ‘dignified’ and more focused on my ‘future’.” Sylvain rolled his eyes. “I told them time and time again I didn’t care about all that crap but they insisted that I should.”

“Sounds like they didn’t accept you for you, regardless of growing up together.” Wren noticed.

“They’re just knee deep in the system. Well, maybe not Felix, but he has his own weird set of values and did think I was a good-for-nothing, just not because of my birthright. He just thought in general I should be better.” His eyes shone with some sort of emotion Wren couldn’t quite pinpoint. Regret maybe. “He thinks I’m useless.”

“You’re not. Maybe you like to play around, but there’s use in that too. You make people smile, and regardless of what he thinks, you are very capable in battle.”

“The professor just really pushes me! She doesn’t take any prisoners.”

“And that’s good! You do have talent and skill, and it’s because of your hard work. She might have to push you through it, but at the end of the day, it’s still work you put in and that right there is an accomplishment. So, no, you are not a good-for-nothing. Felix is just mean.” Wren nodded. “And it’s not because of your Crest either. Your Crest may help in certain situations, but it’s you that succeeds. Everyone in our class can see that.”

Sylvain didn’t say anything, just ruminating on her words.

Wren sighed. “You are greater than you think, Sylvain. I’ve told you that. I want you to see that.”

Sylvain could only nod.

She patted his knee. “You want to hear why I hated myself?”

He looked up at her, curious. “Sure.”

“As you know, I like to have a good time. But my parents didn’t like that part of me. I’m recalcitrant and incorrigible and I really don’t care what they have to say about that now, but when I was younger, it felt like no one would accept me. I had good friends, but when your parents are always dogging on you for you, it just really stings.” She looked rueful and Sylvain wanted to kiss that look away. “I just wanted freedom, but the price of being a noble is that you don’t have it. You might be free financially, you might have good opportunities, but you don’t get much choice in your life unless you really throw away propriety and live for yourself. And not many are willing to do that.”

Sylvain nodded. “Yeah, you are absolutely right.”

She glanced at the scar on her arm. “I never told you about the scar on my arm, did I?”

“You did not.”

She did not look happy about that. Sylvain saw the sorrow in her and wanted to hold her and make it go away.

“Sylvain, I tried to kill myself.”

His initial reaction was to grab her and hold her tight, if only to tether her so she would never leave. He didn’t want to live in a world where he never got to meet her. Their dinner was long forgotten, moved to the side.

“Tell me the story someday, but right now I don’t want to hear it. I want you in my arms,” Sylvain said into her shoulder.

“You can infer why I did it anyway.” She clutched him. “Clearly I survived, but it’s the family secret. No one talks about it because it’s shameful. My mom was the one that healed me and she looked so...disgusted? Disappointed? I don’t even remember, but no one acknowledges it anymore.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m glad I survived.”

He pushed her back, hands on her shoulders, tears in his eyes as well, but he was smiling. “I am too, obviously.”

She smiled, holding one of his hands to her cheek. “I’m so very glad I met you.”

He couldn’t help but stare deeply into her eyes. “So what made you want to survive? What made you stop hating yourself?”

She tightened her grip on his hand. “I stopped caring about their opinion. My friends were there for me and we made a pact to live our lives. I got caught eventually, but knowing I do have a choice, regardless of what others expect of me, kept me going. And now I like myself because I stayed true to my own values.”

“That’s good. Really good.” He hugged her. “It landed you here and we met. I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Goddess he was so mushy. She wanted to gag but she felt so light in spirit but her heart was heavy with some sort of emotion. The overwhelming feeling of acceptance overtook her and she started crying.

“Sunshine, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m not upset, Sylvain,” she interrupted. “I’m just happy.” She kissed him. “You make me happy.”

Sylvain was over the moon hearing that. He was a good-for-nothing to some, but Wren was right. He had value and was important to the right people and that’s what mattered in the end.

“You make me happy too,” he whispered. “I’ll...try to love myself more.”

“Good.” She pulled away.

He realized he needed to say more tonight, because this was the moment for big reveals. “I do have another story to tell.”

“Oh? Go ahead then.”

He couldn’t make eye contact at first because this story really hurt. “I told you my brother was awful to me growing up, right?”

“Yeah, you mentioned something like that.”

He nodded. “Okay. Well, he tried to kill me a couple times. Nearly succeeded too.”

Wren’s jaw was agape. “I’m sorry, he what?!”

“Yeah. Pushed me into a well, left me alone in the woods, broke a bottle over my face… It's why I can't see super well anymore. I should wear glasses but whatever... He threw a knife at me once. I’m surprised you didn’t notice the scar near my collarbone.”

“When would I...” The night she helped him into the showers. “Sylvain, that was hardly the time to take notice of something like that.”

He unbuttoned his shirt to show the scar. “Yeah. When it was revealed I was to be the heir and he was officially out, he threw a steak knife at me and it lodged in there. He was kicked off the grounds and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

“That’s horrible. What a… Monster.”

“Yeah, you can say that...” Sylvain sighed. “When I was much younger, he hurt me. Pushed me to the ground, tripped me, he’d grab my skin and twist it so it would burn… He was also emotionally abusive too, saying things like I had no worth, people only loved me for my Crest, I stole everything from him… I mean, maybe he wasn’t wrong about all of it, but I was still his kid brother, you know? Why’d he...” Sylvain felt a wave of something hit him. “I… Goddess, I never thought I actually wanted his approval. Maybe I did at some point, but now I’m glad he’s gone.”

“I’m sorry your brother is trash,” Wren said simply. “It’s unfortunate you didn’t get to have a good relationship with him.”

“Yeah… I’m glad you made up with your sister though.”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t fair of me to hold a grudge against her for something that wasn’t her fault. I’m glad I could see that before it escalated. She’s alright. She’s so much younger than me so it’s hard to find common ground, but I’d still protect her with my life.”

“Yeah… You said you're ten years apart, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“Miklan is ten years older than me too.”

Wren looked at him, trying to figure out how that worked. She always thought she was the only one with a sibling so far apart in age. So many noble families had multiple children, especially if they were after a Crest. It was weird Sylvain didn’t have more siblings in-between.

“But he was Crestless right? And your parents are obsessed with status? Why did it take them so long to have you?”

Sylvain shrugged. “I think there was a lot going on at that time that, uh, conceiving was out of the question. My brother had to be trained to take on the family legacy should one or both our parents perished. But then peacetime was finally had and here I am.”

“How interesting… I guess it makes sense why he’d feel like everything was stolen from him. It’s still not right to take that out on you, but I guess I can kinda understand why he’d be resentful.”

“Yeah… Being told you would have everything despite no Crest and then here comes a young child with the exact thing your parents wanted all along? I...guess...”

“Sorry, I’m not sympathizing with him at all. Just trying to figure him out,” Wren clarified. “He’s garbage.”

“He is… He’s...my brother. I wish things were different.”

“Yeah. But it is what it is. The only thing you can do is to continue to move forward. Maybe someday you’ll see eye to eye. You can only hope for that, right?”

Sylvain laughed at that. “Miklan, forgiving me and wanting to be an actual brother? Never gonna happen. Nice thought, but unrealistic.”

Wren pursed her lips. “Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, then you can only be yourself and forget about him. He clearly didn’t care about you. So you shouldn’t care about him.”

“Yeah, better to waste my time on the people I like and respect and who feel mutually rather than those that think I’m disposable.”

“Pretty much!” She patted his knee affectionately. “And it's not wasting time if you're enjoying yourself. I'm glad you found solace in me and the other Black Eagles.”

“Yeah... You guys are pretty great honestly. I'm glad I switched.”

Wren smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

They spent the rest of the evening working on homework and quietly conversing about the goings-on of the monastery. Neither one of them looked forward to the future mission, but they had no choice but to go. Hopefully things could end peacefully.

Chapter 16: There are Worse Things I Could Do

Summary:

The mission goes unexpectedly and Wren enters a sword tournament. Blades are crossed, insults hurled, and somehow the parents are involved.

Notes:

Wow it really has been an entire month... Sorry! Work got hectic, my birthday passed, and work got even more hectic. I'm barely home anymore, but here's a chapter anyway! I've only written up to 17 so far, but hopefully I can continue writing. Thank you all for your patience and support!

Things did not end peacefully. It was supposed to be a relatively easy mission. A poorly trained militia following Lonato's orders with clear weather. The Knights of Seiros would accompany them. It was supposed to be easy...

But there was unexpected fog that a dark mage was creating. Lonato receiving help from a dark mage? It was unheard of. Dark mages weren't exactly known to be allies of the church. Lonato was really making a statement about his stance.

Something about how Rhea desecrated the church? Wren remembered hearing that.

But the worst part was that Ashe had volunteered to help with the mission. He just had to know why Lonato would turn his back so dramatically. That wasn't how the normally kind adoptive father was. Ashe greatly looked up to Lonato so it was enigmatic on why he started this rebellion.

Ashe had lost his wherewithal when he saw Lonato taking up base in a dilapidated fort. He could barely lift his bow. Lonato told him to stand down but Ashe was frozen. Sylvain and Wren saw he was shaking as their classmates finished off the rest of the rebels.

Lonato shook his head, knowing Ashe wouldn't attack him, but wouldn't move, as if to protect the man. The only thing to do was...

“Ashe, leave. You aren't meant to be here.”

“But why Lonato...?”

Lonato sighed and readied his lance. “Ashe, you can't be a pawn to the church. Leave now. Leave Garreg Mach. Take your siblings and go. It's over-”

And then Edelgard rushed him, slamming her axe into his thigh.

Lonato yelled out, swinging at the princess and Byleth came to support, Hubert throwing a Hades spell. It missed but it startled Lonato's horse enough to buck and throw the man off, where Byleth finished him off.

The other students watched in horror as Ashe screamed, wailing in despair at the sight of Lonato being killed. He collapsed onto his knees and Sylvain rushed to him to lift him up.

“Come on buddy. Let's get you out of here.” Sylvain all but dragged the young archer away from the scene as Catherine and Byleth discussed what had happened, how they needed to report to Lady Rhea about the ominous note they found on the body. Edelgard watched silently, she and Hubert sharing a look.

This was too convenient.

On the way back to the monastery, Ashe was an incoherent mess. Eventually Linhardt had to force him to drink a draught to ease his anxiety, if only to save his sanity. Yes, it was distressing, but also Linhardt wanted to take a nap on one of the wagons. The other students felt bad for Ashe, but they wouldn't deny the sudden silence was welcome.

They arrived at the monastery where Catherine and Byleth went to report to Rhea while everyone else went to the showers or to the dining hall.

Wren pursed her lips. “Something about this mission was very odd... I can't lay my finger on it, but I can't help but be suspicious.”

Sylvain turned to her, both of them walking to the showers. “What makes you say that?” He had similar thoughts.

“It's not surprising someone wants to assassinate the archbishop. People in power, religious or otherwise, will always be at that risk. But why now? Even Lord Lonato's words were unnerving. What did he mean that Rhea desecrated the church? What did she do for him to act that way, especially now?” Wren tapped her cheek in thought. “You know, I've never liked the Church and as I get older, things come up that solidify that dislike.”

Sylvain nodded. “I can't help but agree. The more missions we do, the more I see there is something corrupt in the church. But what? It feels like there are a million secrets being kept and they're slowly being revealed.”

Wren shrugged. “I suppose we'll find out eventually. But now a shower, maybe some dinner, and then I want to sleep. What a weird day.”

“Yeah... I hope Ashe is okay.”

“He went to the infirmary at least. Maybe Professor Manuela can counsel him.”

Sylvain laughed. “She's the last person that should counsel anyone.”

“Yeah, but she can be sympathetic so she's not the worst...”

“True.” They made it to the showers. “I'll see you at dinner.”

“Sure sure. Have a good shower.”

“Always,” he said with a wink.

“Please don't wink at me after I say have a good shower,” she said but she was barely holding back her laugh. He was just so ridiculous.

“No promises!” He hugged her and his embrace after such a weird day comforted her immensely.

Maybe she'd let him spend the night again.

Showers finished, dinner eaten, Wren invited Sylvain back to her room, if only to talk quietly. She laid her head on his shoulder and just breathed. It felt good doing nothing with someone beside her. No words. No activity. Just existing together and breaths synchronizing. They both fell asleep like that, holding hands, heads together. Wren did snap awake for a moment, disrupting Sylvain's sleep, and she realized she did want him with her. The world around them may have been going to shit, but at least they had each other.

They slid under the covers, legs intertwining, arms wrapping around waists. Everything for now was peaceful and they could face anything together.

It was less than a week later when the first sword tournament began. It was set in tiers, opponents randomly picked and the winner moved on to the next. Wren had gotten ready, wearing her new mercenary gear and feeling powerful. She knew she'd do well today.

Thankfully, Petra was not participating, and that was a good thing because Wren did not want to fight her friend, and also wanted to win. Petra was faster than her, which was saying something, and the girl could easily have Wren down in a few moves. But right now she was focusing on her archery, which she also excelled in. Petra was frightening when Wren thought about it.

Wren entered the arena, a few of her fellow Black Eagles eagerly watching. They wanted glory for their house and Wren would give it to them. Sylvain kissed her hand, wishing her luck and she just rolled her eyes and chuckled. She wasn't even nervous. She had killed a few people at this point, which wasn't something she was necessarily proud of, but a little tournament fought with training swords was really nothing.

Sylvain made off to the stands and then Wren heard familiar voices calling her name. Oh ye goddess, it couldn't be...

But yes. Wren's parents were in the stands, waving hello excitedly. Wren was surprised and a little unnerved. When she had been dropped off, it wasn't on good terms, considering how bitter she was. But maybe that was her teenage mind over-exaggerating things. Maybe her parents didn't hate her as much as she thought. Her little sister looked excited to see her and Wren felt a small smile on her face. She just nodded at them and waited her turn.

She was put against a random Golden Deer, some nameless boy she didn't know. Whatever. He was inconsequential as she beat him with ease. There was another girl and then another, and then she did fight Ignatz of all people, whom she did beat, but he certainly was a contender. She shook his hand, admitting he was a good opponent. He seemed very happy at hearing those words. She hadn't painted with him lately but told him they needed to catch up. He was happy to oblige.

Then the finals and it was none other than Felix. This was not surprising, but it also wasn't welcome. Felix held a grudge which was annoying, and Wren didn't care for petty squabbles. As far as she was concerned, she was over it. Besides, wasn't he the one that had her make up with Sylvain? What result did he expect? Of course they got back together. If anything, it was Felix's fault.

It didn't matter now, as they readied their stances and prepared for what they both knew was going to be a very intense fight. Wren had to concentrate. This entire time she had been using her right hand as a sort of handicap, not that anyone knew that. With Felix, she'd at least attempt to keep it that way, but frankly she knew she'd have to switch if she wanted to stand a chance. Felix was known for being ferocious.

The signal was called by none other than Byleth, the unofficial referee of this tournament. She was observing for sake of watching for improvement and possible critique. She hadn't said anything yet, so Wren figured she'd save it for after the tournament. That was fine.

Felix and Wren circled each other, neither one taking their eyes off the other. They were waiting for the other to make a move and it was maddening. Wren wasn't exactly patient, but she did know Felix could lose his cool if provoked.

She finally stopped circling, keeping a steady hand and an even steadier mind, smirking at him. The facade of arrogance was sure to get to him. She even let out a little 'heh' just to see how he'd react.

She was banking on it and he did deliver: Felix charged her.

She blocked, although he did manage to push her back a few inches, which told her just how strong he was. She knew he was fast, so she'd have to be faster, or at least pay attention to his every movement. She could not afford to stay lost in her own head. She needed to see an opening, a small mistake that could cost him.

To her dismay, Felix was incredibly focused and disciplined. She knew he trained a lot, and it definitely showed. Perhaps she should have practiced more but oh well... She'd have to outsmart him.

They traded blows, sometimes landing a hit, but nothing that would incapacitate the other. She swung and he leaped. She parried and he rolled with it, attempting to find an opening to knock her down, but she evaded him, if only barely.

She felt herself tiring. This fight was not going to go anywhere if she still fought like this.

“I know you're better than this,” he taunted. “I've seen you train. You're holding back and it disgusts me.”

“There isn't much that doesn't disgust you, is there?” she yelled back, dodging another blow. She did manage to whack him in his side and he merely grunted, an almost feral smile on his face.

“You're right. Your carousing with that idiot disgusts me the most.”

She scoffed, swinging, allowing more aggression in her moves. “But that's your childhood best friend!”

He dodged. “Our parents forced us together; I have always preferred being alone.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” she chided, bending backward to avoid a swing at her face.

“You know nothing of me, and you know less of Sylvain!” he yelled as he charged her again.

It took all of the strength in her legs to keep him at bay. She managed to push forward in order to knock him back and charged him herself. He mimicked her former block and they were apart, staring the other down.

“You were important to Sylvain. You all were. And you threw him to the side because you didn't bother understanding his motives.” She kept her blade to the side, tightening her grip. Her arm was getting tired. This had to end now.

Felix mirrored her stance, staring at her coldly. “You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? You'll grow tired of cavorting with Sylvain when you realize there isn't much substance there.”

“What? You were the one that had him and I make up! Because you hated his moping? Why change your mind?”

He charged at her, annoyed by the conversation. “He left our house for you! You witch!”

She barely dodged his charge, shocked by his statement. “Are you jealous of me?!” she yelled as she charged at him herself. Their blades met. An unstoppable force against an immovable object. Neither was going to give up.

“Jealousy doesn't even cover it. Whatever you did, you've changed Sylvain, and it only makes me wonder what other treachery you have up your sleeve.”

She grit her teeth. Goddess, he was strong. “I have nothing of the sort! We just like each other! What the hell is wrong with that?!”

He managed to push her blade to the side, lunging. She spun to the side, knowing this wouldn't end. How the referees weren't calling it was beyond her.

She had to surprise him. Upending him was the only way to end it, even if it could potentially cost her the match.

“You'll kill him if all his thoughts are consumed by you!”

“Oh goddess, that's a reach. Whatever Felix! This match is done!”

He growled as he lunged for her and it was going to be his last. Wren spun low, wielding her sword with her right, but it was a feint. As Felix swung down, she changed her trajectory at the last second, spinning upward in the opposite direction, switching hands almost effortlessly, and disarmed him. His sword flew into the air, clattering on the ground. She was panting. She was exhausted, but she won.

But Felix as she soon learned was an incredibly sore loser, especially to her, and he shot out with his fist, connecting with her nose. She felt blood burst out and she was paralyzed for a moment. She wiped the blood off her face and smirked.

“Oh! So it's come to that!”

Before anyone could really react, Wren jumped, putting her full weight into it, landing on him and punching him at top speed. She got his eye and was going to hold him down, but Felix managed to twist and turn the tables as he was on top her now, strangling her.

She could barely breathe but she managed to bend her legs against her body and her knees were around his throat. She wanted to push him off but if she had to, she'd kill him if it meant she lived. At this point, it was survival of the fittest and she wasn't quite sure if she was the fittest...

Then she heard Sylvain cry out, the other Eagles also yelling about calling the match and then Jeralt Eisner and his daughter Byleth were pulling the two apart. Wren was choking on her own blood, her neck sore from Felix's grip. Likewise, Felix was gasping, but the look of fury in his eyes was palpable.

She had an enemy for life it seemed. A true nemesis born of jealousy. But he had a black eye that he'd remember and that was victory enough for her.

Broken nose aside, she was satisfied with this match. Everything was clear now. Felix was jealous, cared more about Sylvain than he wanted to admit, and everyone knew it.

The two were separated, taken to the side as healers from their houses focused on mending them. Wren felt her nose knit itself back together, but they still put it in place with a stiff bandage and whatever else they could use. She knew there was severe bruising but that was fine. She'd wear it proudly.

Sylvain was by her side, holding her hand as Linhardt worked his magic on her. Wren finally relaxed as Linhardt finished. Her parents then approached her.

“What in the eternal flames was that?” her mother asked, her voice at an alarming volume.

“Just a guy who won't come to terms with his feelings. Nothing unusual,” Wren answered. “It's over now. I won anyway so whatever.”

“Actually I overheard you've both been disqualified. No one won today since you two took it too far.” Linhardt said effortlessly, as if he couldn't care less. He probably didn't.

Wren pulled away from Sylvain, posture rigid. “Excuse me?! Felix attacked me!”

“And you reciprocated. It's only logical.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “They should have called it the moment he punched me. It's not my fault I defended myself. That fucker was going to kill me.”

“Wren, watch your mouth!” her father reprimanded. “It's bad enough you fight like a man and still use your cursed left hand.”

“Cursed? I was born this way! I've seen you write with yours! What makes me different?”

Her father shook his head. “You're a noble woman and need to act like it. Proper ladies go by standards.”

“Pfft, whatever! Nothing about me is standard. I forge my own destiny.”

Her mother stared at Sylvain. “Including him?”

Sylvain stiffened as did Wren. So it was out now...

“That Felix fellow said you were...carousing with him? Cavorting? Is he the one you got in trouble with?”

Was no one going to forget that? That was said and done at this point.

“I mean, yeah, but that was in the past. We've been good little students. No more sneaking out.” For now.

“You can't lie to us, Wren. It's only a matter of time before you get into more trouble,” her father said without hesitation.

She did not want to know what he was implying.

“Have you not seen my grades? I'm doing fine. Great even. No one is distracting me and I'm not going to get in trouble,” she mocked. “You really don't have faith in me, do you? I'm capable of change. Clearly.”

“Well, you shouldn't gallivant like a commoner. What about him? Does he act the same way as you?”

She wasn't going to admit that sometimes Sylvain was indeed crude. That would be bad.

“Sylvain is fine. Don't bring him into this.”

Sylvain then stood up, and Wren recognized the mask he so easily hid behind. Full of charm, smarmy, overconfident. It wasn't the real him and maybe for once that would be his saving grace.

He bowed ever so perfectly. “I'm Sylvain Jose Gautier of House Gautier. I'm noble and have a Crest. Perhaps you know of my family and our legacy.”

Her parents' demeanor completely changed. “Yes. They keep the peace at the Sreng border. Even we in Annevar know that,” her father said as if he was an expert on the subject. Of course, all nobles, especially the patriarchs of the families, knew of most conflicts. They had to in case they needed to involve themselves, and even if her parents weren't exactly the highest of nobles, they conducted themselves at times as if they were.

So it made them especially hypocritical when they weren't always so proper and Wren hated that.

“Ah, that's good. So really, your daughter could do much worse than involving herself with the heir of such a household.” Goddess, he was so sure of himself, it was so rehearsed. She didn't like seeing this side of Sylvain. Putting on airs just to seek approval, airs he hated because they worked.

“She could...” her mother muttered, sizing Sylvain up. “You have the minor Crest of Gautier, right?”

“I see that my blood precedes me. Yes, I do.”

“Hmm, she has the minor Crest of Macuil. That could work...” Wren grimaced at how her mother was calculating the potential of future children Wren wasn't sure she wanted to have. Not for that reason anyway. “Marrying into your family would be quite a boon. You'd have access to good imports and exports, and we'd have access to more resources from a region.”

“Indeed. A match like this would only benefit both parties. Of course, I'm sure you'd like to negotiate that with my family.”

“Yes, we would,” her father said, staring at Sylvain with narrowed eyes. He probably saw through Sylvain's act but it didn't matter. This was exactly what they wanted.

She realized Sylvain's parents would probably like her a lot because she was strong and would survive childbirth. Multiple childbirths. All to produce Crest babies, as Sylvain always said. She did not want that destiny and she was sure neither would Sylvain.

Wren had to speak up.

“How about we wait on the marriage proposals? Sylvain and I should graduate first, wouldn't you say?”

“Of course, but if this leads into a good future, graduating from Garreg Mach may not be necessary.”

Wren's face was of much discomfort despite the smile she plastered on. “I assure you, Mother, it is. I'm learning a lot and would like to at least see it through.”

“Hmm, perhaps.” Her mother studied Sylvain more. “Our grandchildren certainly wouldn't be ugly. The contrary really. You come from good stock.”

She was making him into the studhorse Sylvain called himself mockingly. This was increasingly uncomfortable.

“Hah, you got me! I must certainly say I am highly desirable, good stock and all. Many families have wanted ties with the Gautiers. Perhaps you will be the ones to tie it up in a pretty bow.”

“So witty. You are a young man of culture and intellect. Indeed, Wren could do worse.” Her mother nodded. “Yes, we will meet your parents and discuss a betrothal.”

Wren swallowed the lump in her throat. Her life was really being decided for her.

This was what Sylvain resented, and she wondered if it would make him resent her too.

Linhardt came back when Wren didn't even know he left. “Professor Manuela says you're cleared, Wren. You should head back to the dorms.”

Oh thank the goddess. “Thanks, Linhardt. Will do.” Wren immediately got up. “Well, parents, little sister,” Wren patted said sister on the head, the little girl merely watching the exchange with blissful ignorance, “it is time for me to depart. Gotta clean up and all. I guess you'll be needing to leave?”

“No, we intended on having dinner. The archbishop is happy to host us for the evening,” her father claimed.

Oh joy. They were staying.

“Well! See you at dinner!” Wren hurried away, sparing Sylvain a glance that said Please follow me if you want to live and he excused himself, following her, nondescript.

They managed to meet at her dorm. Wren took in a shuddering breath.

“I am so sorry you had to witness that. It's totally unfair to you. I didn't realize they'd leap right into it.”

Sylvain shrugged. “I started it. I didn't want either of us besmirched. I just didn't think it would go that far.”

“Well, you know noble parents. Always thinking about propriety and bullshit.”

Sylvain laughed. “Yeah! You're right.” He grasped her shoulders, looking at her with a soft gaze. “It could be worse. They could have taken you away and I'd never see you again, unless I eloped. Now, we're apparently engaged.”

She shook her head. “Not yet anyway. We'll...see about that.” She was very unsure of what was going on.

“Do you...not want that?” He looked confused and possibly hurt.

She amended with, “I think we both established marriage was too soon, although it is expected of us at some point. I just...”

“You just...?”

She sighed. “If we were to be engaged, I would like for it to be actually romantic and from the heart, not something our families dictated.”

“So you've thought about this.” He released her.

“I...may have had a dream at some point. I really like you, Sylvain. You know that.”

“I really like you too.”

“I'm happy to hear that... I'm just afraid marriage would change our dynamic. We'd have, like, actual responsibilities and it might change us for the worst.”

“Pfft, it wouldn't. We make a good team.”

She shrugged. “Yeah... Anyway, I'm going to clean up. I'm kinda pissed off by this whole day.”

“That's fair. I'll see you at dinner?”

She pursed her lips. “I don't know. My parents might want alone time with me. We'll see.”

“Well, I would like to talk with them too. I'm sure they'll love me.”

“They already do and they don't even know you.” She rolled her eyes. “Good thing you're a good actor.”

“And that I have a Crest. And I'm hot,” he joked.

“Well, the former I don't care about, but the latter is certainly a perk.” She winked. “Go on, find something to wile away the time. I'll see you eventually.”

“Of course, Sunshine.” He kissed her cheek. “I'll especially see you in my dreams,” he whispered in her ear.

“You're so gross!” she laughed. “Go!” She playfully slapped his arm.

“I'm going, I'm going...” He walked away but turned, blowing her a kiss.

She 'caught' the kiss and held it to her heart. She waved and he was gone.

“Yeah, I could do worse,” she said to herself.

Chapter 17: Trauma and its Consequences

Summary:

The missions only become more dangerous and Sylvain and Wren fear they will lose each other. That fear drives them closer.

Notes:

Merry late Christmas! Least I can do is post an update. It might be a little bit of a wait for the next chapter but I'm definitely seeing this thing through. I need to work on a few other stories, namely two sequels I've promised, but this has been my greatest guilty pleasure. I hope everyone enjoys and has been safe during the holiday season. We live in some perilous times right now.

Class went on as usual and the Black Eagles were given their next mission. Monastery security. Keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. Frankly, the church was getting more and more questionable the more missions they did, but Wren wasn't about to say that.

Of course, Edelgard and Hubert felt similarly. An assassination on the archbishop? No, that was too convenient. This was a cover for something, considering the Rite of Rebirth was coming up.

Wren never quite understood what the Rite of Rebirth was for. Revive the goddess? That seemed so far-fetched. If she were to be revived, what was to prevent her from being appalled by the state of humanity and wiping it out to start anew? She was the progenitor god. She could easily take away life as she created it.

Wren didn't want to linger on the thought. She had to act like she was securing the monastery when really she was zoning out while walking with Sylvain. They were hardly paying attention, which wasn't a good thing considering the circumstances, but Byleth and Edelgard seemed on top of it, and they all had faith Hubert would dig up some good dirt.

Which meant Wren and Sylvain could be good little heathens and make out in dark corners, going to market, and even fishing, which Sylvain wasn't keen on but Wren had a knack for it.

“Annevar is a port city so we're super close to the ocean. I used to fish with my father growing up until my sister was born,” she explained. She nudged Sylvain's shoulder, knowing nothing was on her line. “Now I'm here with you and I have to say I really like it.”

“I know that, Wren,” Sylvain chided as he bit her shoulder. She laughed, pulling away. Sylvain started to be more physical in other ways and she wasn't quite sure if he was trying to egg her on to take things further. She wasn't going to, but it was nice knowing he was comfortable with her.

“You're such a weirdo,” she joked as she pulled her fishing pole back. Nothing today. How did Byleth pull some of the best catches the school had ever seen? So unfair.

“Love the way you handle that rod. Makes me wonder if you can handle other rods...” Sylvain suggested. Wren snorted.

“Well, I've had a lot of practice. I'm a quick study so there won't be an issue there.”

Sylvain practically jumped on her. “Oh goddess I can't wait.”

“It's not today but it will be soon! I just need the right moment!”

Sylvain backed off, laughing. “When you're ready, you'll know. And I'll be sure to make it special.”

“It doesn't...have to be special, but I just need to be ready.”

“You will be. And I'll help you every step of the way.”

“I sure hope so because I'd be doing it with you!”

They bumped heads as they laughed. It was another peaceful day at Garreg Mach. Summer was leaving slowly but the sun was still warm and so were their hearts.

The day came of the rite and of course the church officials, namely Seteth, were concerned that the Black Eagles weren't taking this more seriously. Flayn had interrupted and it threw the suspicion to the side as Seteth tried to recover.

When everyone headed to the rite, the Black Eagles acted as 'security' until no one was around. They immediately headed to the Holy Mausoleum.

And wow were Edelgard and Byleth right. People had infiltrated the mausoleum, but one particular dark mage was at the sarcophagus Sothis was said to have rested. It was concerning and the students fought.

There was a wicked man with a skull helm and a dark horse wielding a lethal looking scythe. No one wanted to be around that guy.

But Byleth was confident in Lysithea, a new recruit, who blasted the knight with Dark Spikes. He had nearly taken out their professor, but he retreated, dissipating.

So he could warp. That was problematic.

But he was gone now and the only thing left to do really was get to that mage trying to open the apparently magically secured coffin. Byleth made it in time and the mage had pulled out a sword of all things and tried to wield it, which Byleth easily deflected. Disarmed, the mage had no where to turn to as Byleth deftly caught the blade. She cut through the force field the mage procured, slashing him in the chest, killing him instantly. A gruesome death, but that was what he got for defiling the tomb.

Later on, when the church officials gathered what turned out to be members of the Western Church, they found out that the Sword of the Creator was what Byleth had found and Rhea easily let Byleth have it. Very strange indeed.

It was then learned that the Church executed those that disgraced the teachings and Church so horribly.

A church that executed criminals... It was bad enough they sent students out on missions to enact justice, but executing people within the church walls themselves? That was disturbing. Very disturbing. Something out of Fascism 101.

That was when Wren knew she could never agree with the church. Not anymore. She enjoyed her time at the Officers Academy aside from the deadly missions, but she looked forward to graduating and moving on with her life.

And the odds were she'd be spending that life with Sylvain. It made her slightly anxious, but she supposed worse things could happen.

And then, when the next mission was to be assigned, it was found out Flayn had gone missing. The entire monastery searched, students and teachers alike, and even the Knights of Seiros were dispatched to thoroughly scour the town.

The worst part was that the knight they had seen during the Rite was rumored to be wandering the night, killing people. This did not bode well for the missing Flayn. What if...

No. They couldn't think like that. Edelgard hoped Professor Byleth would find out more information. Everyone else turned over every stone to no avail.

Professor Jeritza was conveniently gone and Manuela had apparently gone after him. In his quarters, they found her, passed out from a knife wound.

And then they descended into the depths of a mysterious passageway and found Flayn and another missing girl.

The battle that was had was within a maze that seemed to twist and turn. There was no shortage of enemies and the Black Eagles fought their hardest. The Death Knight was once again defeated, leaving another Dark Seal in his wake and Flayn was returned to her brother.

There were so many weird goings-on at Garreg Mach and it only made Sylvain and Wren clutch to each other more.

If Flayn, who was so protected by her brother, could be kidnapped, if Manuela could be stabbed by another professor, who was to say they wouldn't share a similar fate? The two became inseparable after that, often spending the night in the other's room. Sylvain even started leaving his key in Wren's room, a spare actually, in case she didn't feel safe in her own and wanted another safe haven. She took him up on that offer often, and vice versa of course, sleeping, clutching each other like a life line. For survival of themselves or the other, who was to say? The only goal was to feel protected and safe, and they felt that way with each other.

School was normal for a mere moment until the news that the Lance of Ruin was stolen from Gautier territory. Byleth received the news and was educated lightly on the magnitude of the crime, and how it was worsened by the fact that the disowned eldest Gautier son was the apparent thief, a leader of a band of bandits taking refuge in Conand Tower. Byleth had grimaced, realizing that this was obviously Sylvain's brother. She did not know that much about her student's past, but suddenly a lot of things were making sense.

Breaking the news to Sylvain would be difficult though.

But word had somehow gotten around to Sylvain, who told Byleth his brother was garbage and that he was okay with however the mission was handled. The implication that Sylvain would totally accept the death of his brother was actually understandable given the circumstances. Byleth knew that Sylvain's brother, Miklan, had been cruel to Sylvain, but for it to be to the point Sylvain would shrug at his death was...unpleasant. However, this was just another bandit-killing mission, something Byleth was totally used to, so she was eager to embark. The trek to Conand Tower would be long, but if it meant recovering a relic, which Byleth soon realized were great no matter what kind and was growing increasingly fond of hers, then it was a well-deserved mission. Besides, perhaps the patriarch of the Gautiers would offer a handsome reward besides and that fueled Byleth. Sure, she wanted her students to be safe, but mercenary habits died hard and money was always a motivator. Not as much anymore, since the professorship was pretty sweet, but something extra on the side wasn't a bad thing.

Despite the persona of uncaring, Wren saw that Sylvain was anxious. She was well aware of how cruel Miklan had been, so she understood that perhaps Sylvain felt some fear. She also knew, however, that Sylvain wanted his brother out of the picture. Miklan had always caused problems, and was an eyesore to the family. It was unfair, sure, but for someone to grow up so ugly in manner and so cruel to family wasn't something to be forgiven, no matter whose blood he shared.

The night before the mission, Sylvain was found sharpening the blades of his lance and axe. Wren joined him, sharpening and polishing her swords.

“So...you're really okay with this,” she said carefully.

“Yeah. I mean, sure he's my brother, but he never treated me as such, so... It only makes sense this would happen eventually. He's always been a bad guy; he's getting what he deserves.”

Wren let those words rumble around in her head. She finally spoke. “So... Would you want to land the final blow? Or have the whole fight to yourself?”

Sylvain sighed. “It's not a pleasant thought but... I feel responsible. So yeah. I'd like to take care of him myself, if only for my sanity. I'm tired of him haunting me. It won't feel real unless I take care of it.”

“Fair enough. I'm glad you've thought it over.”

“Yeah...” He finished his task and got up. Wren had finished hers too. “You wanna head back?” He meant his room, but it could go unspoken.

“Sure. Let me shower first and I'll see you there.”

“Alright.” So the two cleaned themselves up and found themselves in Sylvain's room.

Sylvain sat on his bed, sighing. Wren stood for a moment, surveying his belongings. Sylvain was incredibly neat, his homework and books stacked neatly on his desk. Laundry was placed in a hamper to be laundered later. There wasn't any dust to be seen. She was self-conscious of her own room now. It wasn't dirty, but she could admit there was some clutter. Seeing Sylvain's room, she wondered how he could spend so much time in hers.

“I'm sure I've said it before, but you really like to clean...”

“Oh. Yeah, it's something I just enjoy doing.” His face said something else.

“I don't think you do,” Wren said knowingly. “There's an underlying reason, isn't there?”

Sylvain didn't immediately answer. He paused, wondering how to explain it.

“It makes me more comfortable. And not in a 'ah it's so refreshing in here' way. More like, 'I at least have some control over my surroundings.'”

Wren nodded. “You feel like others are controlling every aspect, so this is one you can at least take care of yourself.”

“Exactly. Even as a kid, I didn't like servants cleaning my room. It's my space so I should take care of it myself. Someone else touching my things is just another way of me losing another part of myself and I can't stand it. I need something to hold on to.”

“That is completely fair. I know I'm cluttered, so being in your room kinda makes me feel bad, but it's also nice.”

“Let's just say your room is full of personality,” he said lightly. It was the necessary levity they needed.

“Hah, I suppose so.” She sat next to him, ready to sleep. “I hope I give you something as well.”

“Yeah you do. Hope for a better future. Acceptance. Actual affection.” True love, but he wasn't sure if he should say that yet.

Wren felt the same, but she also couldn't reveal that thought. “Me too. I feel...safe with you.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“I really care about you, Wren, no matter what previous issues we had. I'm glad we got through them.”

“Honesty is the best policy. Talking it out was important.” She kissed his cheek. “Besides, you're too cute for me to turn away.”

“Ah, my dashing good looks save me again,” he joked and she might have caught a hint of bitterness. “It's good to know I can still get away with some deplorable crap.”

“I mean, I was mostly joking. Like, yeah, you're super cute. Way beyond that actually, but there is obviously more to you than looks. You're deeper than you show.”

He held her hand, grateful for those words. “I'm glad you see that.”

“I'm sure I'm not the only one, but I am at least the one you talk to about it the most.”

He kissed her temple. “Let's get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to suck.”

“It is, but we'll get through it together.” They lied down together, snuggling.

“Good night, Wren,” he said quietly.

“Night,” she whispered back, falling into a very peaceful sleep. Tomorrow was going to be anything but peaceful.

And dawn broke and Wren and Sylvain were up, getting ready, not even conversing. What needed to be said had been last night. The only thing to do now was move on with the task.

Task. Executing his brother was relegated to a task for a class to fulfill. It felt icky and gross, but it was a mess that needed cleaning long ago. It was only a matter of time before Sylvain himself would be the one.

Everyone had gathered at the front gate, checking their stash of concoctions, weapons, necessary armor. Ferdinand was as bright as ever, declaring the day would be won. Hubert looked more ready than ever to kill the sunny man. Caspar was practically dragging Linhardt, who was somehow sleeping while standing. Petra was focused, tightening a belt here and an arrow there, while Dorothea prattled on about something. She had the look of someone who was incredibly nervous. Edelgard was talking to the professor and among them was one of the knights who would escort them to their destination. Gilbert? He looked awfully familiar, and it was there that Sylvain whispered into her ear, “He's Annette's piece of shit father.”

“Why is he a piece of shit?” Wren asked, keeping an eye on the man. He seemed none the wiser.

“He left Annette and her mom years ago for his knightly duties or whatever and like, I get it, that's just the Faerghus way, but it really messed Annette up more than she lets on.”

“Hmm.” Annette never mentioned that to Wren, but Wren had also never asked. Perhaps she should listen more to Annette and be a better friend. There was pain there that she didn't know about.

“Well, nothing quite beats a deadbeat dad,” was all Wren could say.

“I mean, jealous older brother who nearly killed his little brother is one,” Sylvain said, and Wren wasn't quite sure if that was a joke or a serious suggestion.

“Um, well, yeah... Family feuds. Gotta love 'em.” She straightened the straps her swords were attached to.

“There you two are!” came Lysithea's voice and she looked a little miffed. “We were waiting for you two.” It was so pompous Wren couldn't help but pause, almost embarrassed that she was late when she didn't realize she was, and Sylvain just gave a lopsided grin and chuckled.

“Hey! Nothing gets by you, does it?”

Lysithea seemed to fume. “Is that a crack at my age?”

“Ah, no? Why would it?” But Lysithea rolled her eyes and walked away, eager to embark on this clearly long journey.

Group gathered, battallions assigned, and weapons ready, the class took off to Conand Tower to see their mission through.

They were not prepared to see the truth behind the Crestless wielding Relics.

When they did finally arrive at Conand Tower, a trek that took way longer than what it should have in Wren's opinion, Gilbert gave a brief history on it as Byleth asked questions. Wren didn't pay much attention to that when her boyfriend was showing an increasing amount of discomfort. Sylvain looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“He's up there, Wren...” Sylvain whispered.

“How can you tell?” she asked quietly, clasping his shaking hand.

“I just know. I can feel him.” Sylvain bit his lip, staring up at the top of the tower. “I'm gonna kill you, you son of a bitch.”

“But...wouldn't that be your mom?” Wren asked, hoping for levity. Sylvain did let out a snort so she was glad to make the joke.

Byleth gestured for the students to enter the tower, ascending. It was mostly empty but they could all hear movement up top. Odds were the bandits were preparing for the assault, which told Byleth she needed to properly prepare her students and take extreme caution. They were heading towards enemy territory and she couldn't afford to lose a student from carelessness.

At the top, they could see the bandits. It seemed Miklan was holding the center, giving out commands, and the bandits charged them. Some were guarding treasure and they were quickly dispatched by Petra. Behind them was an ambush, an attempt to trap the students, and while they did manage to get to Gilbert (damn mages of course), Wren doubled back to slice them in two. Covered in blood, she caught up to her classmates.

There was another ambush as they rounded the corner, and Lysithea snatched their lives away with Hades Ω. Linhardt focused on healing an overenthusiastic Ferdinand who got a little carried away with a flashy parry, only to be sideswiped with a sword. He would live, but he would never make that mistake again. Hubert finished off another bandit as Edelgard and Byleth continued pushing through. Caspar was yelling and whooping as he punched a guy to death. Bernadetta, who desperately wanted to stay behind, landed an arrow so perfectly it went straight through the guy's skull. Dorothea threw a spell here and there, but was focused on protecting Petra, who was utterly deadly.

The closer they got to the center, the more clustered the room was with bandits. It seemed like it was a nonstop assault, with axes, swords, bows, arrows raining down. An armored one here, another there. Blood splashed onto the walls, sickly splats echoing as flesh was torn apart with blades, the smell of burning flesh from a Fire spell. It was all very unpleasant and all the more for this mission to be over.

As Wren and Sylvain raced across, hoping to get to Miklan and end it, there was a sudden thrust from a glowing lance that nearly skewered Wren and she fell from Sylvain's horse. Edelgard had managed to catch her, and Sylvain, perched atop his horse, stood protectively in front of them.

There he was. Miklan Gautier. Sylvain stared down at him, grinding his teeth. Miklan sneered, laughing at his brother.

“Oh look, it's little Sylvie, a knight in shining armor! Long time no see, you fucker!” Miklan had thrust his lance again, Sylvain deftly dodging.

“Same to you!” Sylvain yelled as he charged. His lance barely made a scratch on his brother's armor, but the attack pissed Miklan enough for him to stab again. He caught Sylvain's thigh, but Sylvain thought nothing of it as he continued his charge. Brothers clashing, Wren focused on any bandits that were left, but always keeping an eye on Sylvain.

Miklan was losing his edge against Sylvain, whose Crest activated when he used Tempest Lance. Miklan cursed but his attention drew to Wren, who at this point was showered in blood from the bandits she had slain. There were hardly any left so most of her classmates were zoning in on the boss.

Miklan smirked at her, noticing how her eyes never left his brother. Of course. Sylvain always had a way with the ladies, and it was another reason why Miklan hated his brother so. He dashed towards Wren, who was more than ready to take him down. Without warning, she threw out a Fire spell that hit Miklan directly in the face. He yelled, grabbing at his face as if that would make the pain end.

“Your little damsel in distress pissed me off!” He went to charge her again and that's when Sylvain, noticing a weakness in Miklan's armor, took a breath and went for it.

The steel blade of the lance pierced Miklan, effectively skewering him, and he coughed up blood. Sylvain retracted his weapon and Wren gaped, somehow shocked that her loving boyfriend outright murdered his brother. Was it well deserved? Of course. Miklan had this coming for years.

Miklan had backed away into the room he had been holing up in, yelling some incomprehensible nonsense and then the horror of all horrors was seen.

Perhaps the Lance of Ruin had finally activated, only to discover its wielder did not bear a Crest. Shapes that could only be described as fleshy shadows erupted from the eye of the staff, wriggling away, wrapping around Miklan's arm. No matter how hard he tried to brush them off, they multiplied, covering his entire body. The Black Eagles watched in horror as the squirming darkness burrowed its way into Miklan's mouth, nose, even his eye sockets. Wren almost puked. Dorothea actually did.

There was a disgusting crack as they watched Miklan's body reform into something much bigger than they anticipated. The few bandits that were left went to escape, one unlucky fellow being consumed by the monster Miklan had become. Gross, scaley, with sharp teeth, piercing eyes, and devastating claws, what stood before them was no longer Miklan Gautier, but a bastardized abomination the likes of which no one had seen before. It thrashed about the room and the students had to take a moment to collect themselves.

“That's a...Demonic Beast...” Edelgard muttered, hoping to rally her classmates.

“We need to take down its defenses and rush it with strong blows. It will take longer than a typical skirmish, but we can do it,” Byleth stated. “Linhardt, Lysithea, Dorothea, Hubert. Stay to the back and sling spells, healing as needed. I'm going to need all offensive units to the front. Wail on him as hard as you can. If you have a long-distance weapon, stay with the mages and fire arrows as needed. Now, let's finish him.”

The students did as she said, attacking and dodging. Some were hit hard and Byleth commanded them to retreat to heal their wounds. It was Sylvain though, at his insistence really, that landed the final blow. With a deep breath, he charged, and stabbed the Black Beast known as Miklan directly in the eye, piercing through his head. Black Beast Miklan let out a horrible roar and collapsed, his body dissipating into his former form. Sylvain stood over him, looking at the broken body of his brother, that glowing lance still in his hand.

“So that's what a Relic can do when you don't have a Crest...” Edelgard muttered. No one heard her, but she shared a look with Hubert. Something about this was very wrong.

Byleth nodded to Sylvain, who picked up the lance. It felt right in his hands and that was a thought that bothered him. Did it feel like that when Miklan held it? No. Something about this Relic resonated with him, and he knew it was because of his Crest.

He stared at it in his hand, looking at the pulsating blade. That was...kind of disgusting, but this was something he had always known, and never really questioned it before. But that artificial life the lance seemed to possess suddenly made a lot of sense when Sylvain thought about it, how it transformed his brother. It was like it held life of its own and could change the form of those that crossed it... Like the progenitor god...

Sylvain handed the lance to the professor. “You take it. I... don't think it's my time yet.”

Byleth held it, unsure. “Won't the same happen to me...?”

“You have a Crest, Professor. You'll be fine,” Sylvain said, although a note of hesitance was heard. Byleth just nodded, ordering everyone to head back to the monastery.

As they descended, Sylvain kept to the rear, walking alongside his horse. Wren kept pace next to him, unsure of how to speak to him.

“Sylvain...” She didn't want to ask are you okay because goddess knows he wasn't. She settled with, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Don't worry about it,” was all he muttered. “Just... Leave me alone for a while. I...need to process this.”

“Of course.” Was she hurt? A little, but this wasn't about her feelings. Sylvain just killed his brother and that was trauma she knew she would never feel or understand. Sylvain could take all the time he needed to get through it. She'd be there at the end of the tunnel.

She marched ahead, listening to Byleth and Edelgard converse about the events of today and how to report this to Lady Rhea. It was no surprise the archbishop would probably have them keep this entire encounter a secret, and frankly no one wanted to relive it anyway, least of all Sylvain. That was nightmare fuel.

They reached the monastery close to midnight and the students were exhausted. Some decided they'd just go straight to bed and clean up later, others went to see if the dining hall was still open for the late arrivals. Most went to change and hand off their armor and uniforms to be properly laundered, including Wren. Some went to shower. Wren did not see Sylvain anywhere and assumed he went to his room to contemplate or maybe pass out. Unlike him, because she knew he didn't really like being dirty (physically, at least), but considering the day's events, she couldn't blame him.

While her clothes were being laundered, she went to shower, noticing how quiet the room was. No one snickering about crushes or gossip. It was eerily quiet, the cascading water being the only real sound. It felt otherwordly and Wren wasn't sure she liked it.

Cleaned and dressed for bed, Wren went back to the launders' to grab her now clean uniform. Since she had mastered the mercenary class, Byleth had her reclassed to Mage and the fresh robes were somewhat a comfort. Black with embellishments of deep navy. It suited her.

She brought everything back to her room and upon entering, she saw a snoozing Sylvain in her bed. He was cleaned up and fresh, his body facing the wall, back to her, bundled under her blankets. She recognized the form of someone experiencing trauma. When she went through the repercussions of her suicide attempt, she often was found cocooned in blankets, staring blankly at the walls or ceiling.

She wouldn't bother waking him. She knew he didn't want that. He merely wanted to be alone without being alone. She knew the feeling well.

Wren quietly put her things away and got under the covers, gently touching Sylvain's back with shivering fingers. She felt...so bad for him but she knew he wouldn't want pity so she wouldn't. She would just be his support for this dark time.

Wren fell into a half-sleep, body resting and still, but her mind wandered, filled with thoughts of Sylvain and where life was leading them.

At some point she felt movement and opened her eyes to see Sylvain, biting his lip, quivering, eyes shining with tears. Without even asking, she quickly wrapped her arms around him and he broke. He cried into her shoulder, albeit hesitantly. She knew he was the type who didn't want to cry in front of others and that was fine, but she'd be the one to cry with eagerly. He clutched her, pressing his body so deeply into her that she felt like she was being crushed, but that was fine. Somehow, it was comforting. She hummed gently until he went still. He was still awake though.

“Do you want to talk?” she asked quietly. He shook his head against her shoulder.

“Would you like a distraction then?” she asked again.

“Please...” he whispered, and it was so pained Wren felt her heart crack.

Without really thinking about it, she kissed his neck. Where this would lead, she wasn't quite sure, but if this was something Sylvain approved of, she'd do it. Even if it was all the way.

He chuckled, and she took that as a good sign. “This is the kind of distraction I like,” he said into her ear in such a sultry tone she almost forgot that mere minutes ago he cried into her shoulder.

“Did you cry just to get in my pants?” she joked.

“Goddess no. That would truly be a dick move.” He kissed her forehead. “I just like it when you touch me. I can forget about everything when I'm with you.”

She was touched and she forgot he was the type to say things like that to get what he wanted. But he did go through some traumatic stuff, so Sylvain was actually being sincere.

She kissed his neck again, lingering again, finally saying, “You can touch me if you want.”

Sylvain paused, processing that. “Touch you...?”

“You know what I mean, Sylvain,” and to make her point, she grasped his hand and put it on her breast.

Oh! That kind of touching... Sylvain happily groped her, enjoying her softness and warmth. His fingers danced along her side and she giggled. He got a handful of ass as he kissed her fiercely and he felt her normally timid hands explore him. They were wandering lower and lower and Sylvain didn't stop her. He wouldn't. He had craved her touch for so long, and it was so fucked up that the death of his brother would trigger this, but maybe that was the only good thing Miklan had ever done for him.

Kissing his collarbone, Wren let her fingers touch his groin over his pants. It was right there but she was terrified of actually touching the flesh. She wanted to, for him, but she was holding back and hated herself for it. She wanted to, needed to, to finally grow up and embrace adulthood, but what if he didn't like it? She didn't want to embarrass herself.

He carefully grabbed her wrist, guiding her. “Tell me if this is too far.”

“It's not... I'm just shy I guess...”

He smiled against her hair. “Don't be.” He slid her hand under his pants, enjoying her hand gently massaging him. “Yeah... Like that...”

If that was all it took... She became bolder, tightening her grip a smidge and figuring out what he liked. He guided her and she truly was a quick learner.

Coming back to something he said earlier, he jokingly said, “I know I told you I like the way you handle a rod, but I gotta say this is better than a fishing rod any day.”

She couldn't help but laugh and was more forward in her movements. Holding his cock, she started to pump him, enjoying how he thrust into her hand. He made cute little gasps as she started to bite his neck gently. His hands were clamped onto her ass and she felt her own arousal build but this was about Sylvain so she ignored it.

“Wren, I'm-” and before he could finish the sentence he came into her hand, making an embarrassing, adorable noise.

The warm, wet splash of his spunk on her hand was a bit alarming, but she let him ride out his orgasm into her hand until he finally stilled, clutching her closely.

Sylvain finally got the release he wanted, with the girl he loved. His hands wandered to her hair, pushing it from her face. He kissed her forehead again and pulled away to look at her in the moonlight filtering through her window. “I love you, Wren.” And this time, he meant every bit of it.

She froze, staring at him in utter shock and maybe a little confusion. “I... Really?”

He suddenly felt embarrassed, realizing that maybe it was still too soon. “I'm sorry. I thought-”

“No, don't be sorry. Never be sorry. I just am surprised I guess.”

“So, uh, are you going to say it back?”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought it was obvious on my end.”

“I thought you were teasing me, honestly.”

“And I thought you were playing me.”

“Wren, sunshine, I wouldn't have come to your room to cry if I didn't love you.”

“That's a fair enough point.” She sighed, face planted in his chest.

“So, you...?” He was suddenly very unsure and insecure.

She pulled away and the smile on her face eclipsed the moon. “I love you too, Sylvain.” She tightened her hold on him. “I'm so sorry for what happened today...!” And suddenly she was crying.

Then he was crying and through the hiccups he started laughing, asking, “Why is this so fucked up?” Wasn't admission of love supposed to be sweet? Why was he so overwhelmed? Why was she? He committed fratricide and got a handjob from his girlfriend and they were confessing their love.

“I don't know, but we are a little unconventional,” she said, laughing through her tears.

They held each other for a moment longer until Sylvain couldn't stand the stickiness on his stomach. “I think I need to shower again...”

She flexed her hand, noticing the dried semen. “Me too...”

“Well, if I need to shower, and you need to shower, then...”

She sighed dramatically. “Okay, I'll shower this time with you, but no funny business.”

Jackpot. He couldn't help but be elated and the two gathered their things and sneaked away to the showers.

She still tried to avert her eyes from his nakedness as they showered, but he definitely enjoyed viewing her and she didn't seem to shy away from it. Washing themselves and eventually each other, Wren finally looking at him more closely, she gave him a back massage and he sighed happily, her strong hands working the knots along his shoulders.

“Damn, you really do have a way with your hands...” he couldn't help but admit.

“Thanks. You do too,” she said, remembering how he had touched her previously. She wanted him to-

“Hey, let's go back to your room. I need to return the favor.”

They dried and dressed quickly and sneaked back to her room.

Door shut, Sylvain pushed her to her bed, climbing over her.

“Sylvain, what are you...?”

He shushed her with a kiss, sliding his hand under her pants.

She squeaked into his mouth as his fingers found her folds and he probed them, rubbing the sensitive nub hidden between. She let out a very loud moan, the touch of another person entirely too pleasurable.

“That's right, baby, tell me how good I'm doing.” He found her entrance and probed slowly inside, wetting his fingers.

She let out a shaky breath as he gently pumped his fingers in and out of her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders just as they did when she massaged him earlier. He grunted and went back to rubbing her clit, wet fingers sliding easily along. He went in a circular motion, pressing hard, but moving slowly, and it drove her quickly to orgasm.

He felt her tighten around his fingers and when she finally relaxed, he pulled away, planting a sweet kiss on her lips. “How was that?”

“Fucking fantastic,” she admitted. “If you're that good with your fingers, I can only imagine how...” She wasn't sure how to finish that sentence.

“How good I am with my dick? Trust me, it'll be even more 'fucking fantastic.'”

She grinned, looking at the ceiling. “I'm a pretty lucky girl.”

“You are!” He fell on top of her, crushing her in a hug and nuzzling his face into her neck. She laughed as his mouth tickled her.

“You arrogant ass!” But her laugh softened the bite. “You're lucky I love you so much.”

“I am.” He kissed her cheek. “Let's get some sleep, sunshine.”

“Of course...” She looked at him in the moonlight and how it made his skin seem to glow. “If I'm your sunshine, then you're my moonbeam.”

His smile warmed her heart. She could have melted. “That's way better than sweet cheeks.”

She pushed him to the side so she could cuddle into his side. “It is. Good night, moonbeam.”

“Good night, sunshine.”

Chapter 18: The Whole Day to Ourselves

Summary:

Sylvain is still processing the previous mission so Wren finds a way to comfort him.

Notes:

Hello all. Updates will be a bit more sporadic. My sister tested positive for COVID (I’m negative!) so I’m staying with a friend until she’s negative. Otherwise I can’t go to work... I forgot to bring my laptop, and I don’t want to go home, so I’m using my iPad to work on this story. Thankfully chapter 18 hadn’t been written yet so I could start fresh with it. Still following my outline too!

This chapter is shorter than usual, but it’s juicy... ;)

I appreciate everyone who’s reading. This story has really helped me get through the horse shit. Happy new year!

The day after that goddess awful mission, Byleth let her students rest. Something like what they had witnessed was traumatic and even Byleth had been disturbed. So rest the students did and Byleth pondered other things. 

 

Rhea had wanted the church to confiscate the Lance of Ruin to return it to the Gautier household but Byleth didn’t trust the church to do such a rethink and refused. Rhea had gotten... angry , the type of angry that even intimidated Byleth, but Sylvain had somehow swept in, as if he was eavesdropping, stating the relic would be in good hands should Byleth keep it. Rhea relented, and Byleth handed it over to Sylvain. 

 

“You are the rightful heir to this, Sylvain, and you’ve more than proved yourself.” She gave him a small, almost sympathetic smile. “Enjoy a break. Spend time with Wren. I’m sure she’ll cheer you up.”

 

Cheering up was an understatement because Wren hadn’t left Sylvains’s side. He stayed in her room because his room was next door to his old friends’ and he didn’t want to deal with their false niceties and artificial condolences. Maybe they wouldn’t be, but Sylvain didn’t want to have that conversation. Wren acknowledged this and distracted him as best she could. With handjobs. 

 

Some time after the mission, Rhea had instructed Byleth to have her students write an essay on the dangers of using a relic should one not have a crest and why not to defy the church. Byleth felt like the lesson had been learned and there was no need to push it; besides, this was her class, but Rhea insisted. Byleth assigned it begrudgingly, but insinuated the students could fake the entire thing if they wanted. They were all confused, although Edelgard and Hubert suspected there was more to this assignment that Rhea insisted they do. 

 

Sylvain thought it was bullshit and mostly wrote about that. He was exhausted, torn, and he wanted to let the situation die. His brother was dead, the relic was his. The church should have been satisfied with that. But they weren’t. 

 

Sylvain turned his essay in as did Wren, and they were dismissed. Wren couldn’t help but notice the dejected look on Sylvain’s face. 

 

“Hey… You okay, moonbeam?”

 

Sylvain just gave her a brief look and then turned his eyes forward, the light behind his normally cheerful stare gone. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

Wren glared at him. “You know why, Sylvain.”

 

He chuckled, wanting to dodge the subject. “I’ll be fine, sunshine.” He shrugged, looking up to the sky, some levity returning. “Well, that’s over. What should we do now?”

 

Wren had been contemplating for some time now. She had wanted things to progress physically with Sylvain. She was comfortable with touching him. And she liked it when he touched her. He had been so sad, and she wanted to comfort him. It was then, at this exact moment, she knew she was ready. 

 

“We do have the whole day to ourselves so…” She looked up shyly at him, her heart beating fiercely. She felt the heat rush to her face. It was now or never. 

 

Sylvain stopped for a moment, processing her words and the implication behind them. He looked at her, slow realization seizing him. Her gaze was soft and she was biting her lip. This was the most shy and insecure he would probably ever see her as, and his heart trumpeted in his chest, blood quickly rushing downward. 

 

Like an arrow, Sylvain had shot towards the dorms, yelling “GIVE ME FIVE MINUTES!” as he left Wren in the dust. She was startled and wondered why he had to hurry off like that, but she went to her room to wait for him. She took off her boots and socks, sliding off her jacket, and sat on her bed, unbuttoning the top two buttons on her shirt, waiting patiently for him. Hopefully he knew she’d be here. 

 

And of course Sylvain did. He practically broke through her door and shut it firmly behind him, kicking off his boots and hopping onto her bed, excitement all over his face. In his hands were a small box of something and a small, corked jar half full of some sort of oil. Wren really didn’t know what was going on.

 

“That was fast…” She said, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. 

 

“Trust me, I won’t be,” Sylvain said, and the innuendo went over Wren’s head.

 

“Ok… Well, what do you have here?” she asked, reaching out for the jar. 

 

“So I don’t want to hurt you,” he replied as he handed her the jar. “That’s lube, in case you um… aren’t wet enough.”

 

She blushed at the implication. “I, uh, hope that won’t be the case. You’re pretty good so that shouldn’t be a problem…”

 

“Yeah, you’re right, but I wanted to be prepared. And this,” he directed her gaze to the small box, “is going to be the reason I won’t be a baby daddy.”

 

“Oh… Condoms? What do they even look like…” She looked curious about it. 

 

“Eh, you don’t want to know the origins, but I will say they are highly effective. So don’t worry about me getting you pregnant. You’ll be fine, trust me.”

 

She took his word for it. They paused for a moment, realizing they were finally going to have sex. 

 

“Soooo… How do you want to do this?” he asked, gauging her response. 

 

“I guess how we normally do it. Make out?”

 

He smiled warmly at her. “Yeah, that’ll work.” 

 

They got to that quickly, Wren clutching Sylvain as he gently pushed her down. She was putty in his hands as he slid his tongue sensuously across her lips. Her mouth opened willingly and she squeaked as his hands traveled to the front of her shirt, unsnapping the rest of the buttons. She started helping him out of his shirt as they pulled apart, discarding clothing as fast as possible. 

 

Skin to skin, Wren moaned as Sylvain bit her neck. She didn’t care if he left a mark; the thought excited her actually.  As he kissed and nipped at her neck, Wren pushed her chest upward, snapping off her bra. Sylvain quickly took notice and immediately started groping her. 

 

His rough, calloused hands, strong from lance work, sent thrills through her body. She was so sensitive, squeaking and gasping when he pinched just right. His mouth moved downward and he sucked gently on her nipples, teeth grazing them gently. She gasped, not liking that too much. 

 

“No teeth,” she said quietly through ragged breaths as she felt her arousal overwhelm her. Sylvain obliged and focused on tightening his lips around the nipple and sucking hard. She let out a loud moan as his mouth did wonders to her breasts. 

 

She grasped his hair, pulling it, feeling a hard lump against her thigh. She had obviously felt it before, but knowing she was the reason he was so erect only turned her on more. She ground against him, enjoying the soft gasp coming from him.

 

His mouth kissed its way down her as his hands quickly found that fountain below, rubbing her sensitive nub. His fingers then found their way inside her and she gasped. He had fingered her before, but this was somehow the best. 

 

Gently he thrust in and out, enjoying her cute little moans and the excited chanting of “yes, yes, yes” as he worked her over. She was practically gushing. They wouldn’t need the lube after all. 

 

“Sylvain, please ,” she begged, thrusting her hips upward. His mouth hovered just before her and he smirked, looking up at her cheekily. She blushed at the devilish look on his face, but she was so besotted with arousal that she couldn’t feel embarrassed. 

 

Sylvain then gave her one long lick and she cried out, more loudly than before, and he pulled away. 

 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, but you need to be a little quieter,” he requested. 

 

She whimpered, trying to hold back as he went to work, lavishing her with attention. She wanted to scream so badly, but she bit her lip, compromising with closed off squeaks. 

 

She could barely breathe. She was so close and she wanted to beg him to let her come. It was maddening. 

 

“Sylvain, I’m so close…!” she managed to whisper breathlessly. “Please, please let me come…!”

 

Sylvain, eager to get her off, thrust his fingers faster, sucking on her clit. The stimulation was too much and Wren let out a series of sharp, desperate moans. 

 

Sylvain couldn’t help but chuckle as her orgasm swept through her. He felt her tense around his fingers and knew to pull away. She was gripping the sheets so hard, her knuckles white. 

 

“That good, huh?” he asked, more of a statement than a question. She stared at the ceiling, limp. 

 

“Y-yeahhh,” she managed to get out. “I...really enjoyed that.”

 

“Good.” He moved, his body on top of hers, looking at her lovingly. “You ready for more?”

 

She took a breath, and nodded. It was finally time. 

 

Sylvain smiled, snatching the box of condoms off her bedside table. She lay there as he took a small wrapped square and tore it open, a rolled up... something landing in his hands. 

 

He rolled the condom over his cock, and she thought it looked similar to a sausage casing, which wasn’t a sexy thought at all, but she threw it from her mind. 

 

Cock encased, Sylvain opened her legs, holding himself as he aimed. “You ready?”

 

“Yes, please,” she replied, and Sylvain grasped her hand, which would help him guide himself to enter her. 

 

Slowly, almost excruciatingly so, he slid himself inside her. Wren sucked air through her teeth, the girth of just his tip almost twice the size of his fingers. She didn’t realize just how small her pussy was as he slowly stretched her. 

 

“Hey, is it too much?” he asked, gaze searching for any sign of discomfort. She shook her head.

 

“Nnh-nnh,” she responded, sliding her hips to better accommodate him. “It’s just...a very foreign feeling.”

 

“Okay, but let me know if it’s too much.” He proceeded to push more, enjoying how easy it was to slip inside. She was so wet.

 

When he was completely inside her, he paused, watching her. Her eyes were closed, but the smile on her face beamed with bliss. He was satisfied. 

 

Wren enjoyed the way he felt inside her. Something about it felt right, as if he was meant to do this, as if she was meant to be penetrated. She was tight around him, involuntarily clutching his cock. It was a pleasant burn, a wonderful feeling of being filled. She wrapped her arms around him, body flush against his. 

 

“Go ahead,” she requested, her hands tight around his shoulders. 

 

Sylvain didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled gently away, only to push forward, filling her again and again. He started a slow rhythm, letting her adjust to this new feeling. She gasped when he pushed a little deeper than before. 

 

“Baby just like that,” she begged, her mind blank, pleasure the only thing she could comprehend. 

 

Sylvain obliged, giving a particularly hard push, his hips slapping against her. The squelching noise of their bodies fucking only served to keep going. 

 

He started going faster, and she only clutched tighter, moving her hips against his. She was begging him, chanting “yes” over and over, telling him what a good job he was doing. 

 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…. ” she gasped loudly, her fingers digging into his back. Sylvain hastened, fucking her hard, driving her into the mattress. 

 

He pulled her hair, exposing her neck as he marked her again and again. “You like that? That’s doing it for you?” he said, enjoying the dirty talk. 

 

“Mmh-hmmm,” she hummed, bliss overtaking her. 

 

Sylvain kept up the impossibly fast pace, noting the bed was creaking. Just a little more…

 

With a sharp pull of her hair and a powerful suck to her neck, Wren found herself coming harder than she ever had before. 

 

She sang her praises as the orgasm washed over her in waves. Satisfied she had finished, Sylvain gave a couple more quick pumps and felt release. Cum rushed out of him, but he knew it wouldn’t find its way inside her. 

 

He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily, heart pounding in his chest. Wren lay there under him, limp, dozing. 

 

Sylvain kissed her cheek. “So how was your first time having sex?” he asked but she heard the humor in his voice, as if he knew the answer already. He did, of course. 

 

“Amazing,” she managed to get out. “I didn’t think it would be quite that good…”

 

“Expect even more of that,” he bragged, finally pulling out. He took the condom off and discarded it. Back in bed, they cuddled, bodies twisting together. 

 

“I’m glad it was you…” she whispered. “I really am.” 

 

“Yeah, I’m glad I was the one.” 

 

She chuckled. “You get laid all the time,” she said, a hint of jealousy in her voice. 

 

He scoffed. “Yeah, but they were never really that special. I actually felt something with you, and I only want more of that.”

 

“Me too,” she mumbled into his skin.

 

He held her tightly. “You wanna nap it off?” 

 

“Yeah,” she yawned, snuggling even more. 

 

“Okay,” he said softly, and he felt her breathing slow, body completely relaxing in his arms. Wren was asleep, and he followed shortly. 

 

Chapter 19: Blast Them Away

Summary:

The Black Eagles welcome new students. Sylvain makes work of his mouth, but Wren has something else to say.

Notes:

I am so sorry this took so long to get out. Back injury made writing difficult since sitting and even lying down were unbearable, plus work stress. But I think I'm back in the swing of things. I'm working on other projects, both writing and drawing (we will soon have a visual for Wren!!!) and I'm really thankful for everyone who has either stuck with this story, or who have just started reading. Really hope this chapter is enjoyable for y'all. Your comments make writing this worth it. :)

It seemed losing her virginity opened Wren up in a lot of ways. For one, she initiated far more than what was expected of her, but Sylvain wouldn't complain. While most of the time they were usually in her room (at this point he just left his things there because rarely did she let him leave), there may have been a time or two when neither could wait and Wren found herself on her knees in a remote corner or lying on her back on a desk in an empty classroom, thighs open so Sylvain could work his magic with his tongue. Never did she think she'd ever participate in such debauchery but she had to admit it was fun.

It was around this time that Wren received letters from her parents discussing betrothal arrangements. The Gautiers were driving a hard bargain, demanding a share in the exports. This wasn't completely unheard of, but the percentage they were asking for was ridiculous. The Gautiers were one of the most prominent families up north; they really had no need for extra income, but there had to be some sort of incentive for them to even considering Wren's place with their son. It was maddening.

Sylvain received letters too regarding it, and it was mostly his parents complaining that the Aleo family wasn't quite up to par in their opinion. This enraged Wren, but starting a fight was a surefire way of being pulled away from Sylvain forever. Sylvain though, a surprising master of strategy, found loopholes in his parents' logic and hoped that he had convinced them otherwise.

As their future was being plucked from their hands, preparations for the next mock battle were made. Sylvain and Wren thought these mock battles were kind of stupid, but they were part of the curriculum so it couldn't be helped.

It was so strange; earlier in the school year, Sylvain thought the Blue Lions would redeem themselves in the next, now current, mock battle, proud and confident in his house, but oh how things had changed. Here he was, sitting in the Black Eagles classroom on an ordinary school day next to his Black Eagles girlfriend, among his Black Eagles classmates. There was another recruit: Lysithea had officially joined after the...skirmish at Conand Tower. Sylvain tried not to think about that too much. He wondered if his former classmates even missed him. Felix and Ingrid didn't seem to, and he saw Mercie and Annette enough to know there were no hard feelings. They were incredibly fond of Wren anyway.

The school day ended and Wren and Sylvain had dinner with their normal group, consisting of Caspar, Linhardt, Ferdinand, and Petra. Dorothea and Wren had cooled down enough for Dorothea to at least sit next to Petra, but otherwise the two girls didn't acknowledge each other. Mercedes and Annette had joined this night as well, and both looked like they were teeming with excitement.

“We have some news!” Mercedes said, beaming. “Tell them, Annie.”

“We joined the Black Eagles house! Starting tomorrow, we'll be housemates!” Annie was trembling from excitement.

“Yo, that's awesome!” Caspar exclaimed. Linhardt twitched from his nap at the table, rolled his eyes, and promptly fell back asleep.

Ferdinand gave a winning smile. “We are certainly proud to have you!”

Petra and Dorothea gave their congratulations as well, and Wren welcomed the two girls to sit with them. Chatter abounded as the group ate, laughing at jokes, discussing what the Black Eagles were covering in class, but all talk circled back to the mock battle.

“I know it seems like a bad time to leave the Blue Lions, but the professor seems very suited for these battles. I feel like we weren't well prepared with Professor Manuela.” Mercedes admitted. “Oh! Not that she's a bad professor! She really is knowledgeable on many subjects, but...”

“She's hungover more than not,” Annette said with a grimace. “I mean, maybe she has a serious problem...”

“If it were that bad, I'm sure she would have been replaced by now,” Sylvain said reasonably. “Maybe Seteth has the hots for her and doesn't want her to leave...”

“I saw him carrying her back from town one night,” Wren said, laughing uncomfortably. “She was absolutely wasted and Seteth was grumbling the whole time. Trust me, there is no way he likes her like that.”

“Hm, yeah, you're right.” Sylvain nudged her with his elbow. “You know, I like you like that.”

“We know,” the others said in unison. Wren guffawed.

A very miffed-looking Lysithea joined them, dropping her tray dramatically. “I guess I have to sit with you guys,” she huffed.

“What's wrong, Lysithea?” Wren asked. “Did someone upset you?”

“Well! I can't really sit with my old classmates, can I?!” Lysithea snapped. “I don't think they took it well that I left. I was their key mage; now they have to rely on Marianne, or Ignatz. He's apparently been studying Reason.”

“Are they not relying on Lorenz? I am remembering he uses magic too,” Petra mused.

Lysithea rolled her eyes. “Lorenz is all talk. I don't even want to go into how bad he is. He can't even take down a training dummy.”

“Sounds like he's compensating,” Dorothea piped in. “I've met enough stuck up men in the opera who say they're so impressive, but they really have nothing to show. All money, you know. Think they can buy their way through life.”

“Isn't that how you got in?” Lysithea sniped. “Not that it's a bad thing; you're in a prestigious academy, so you got something great from it.”

“Well, I certainly didn't put forth the cash.”

Everyone was silent as they contemplated what she meant. Everyone but Caspar seemed to get it, but Ferdinand looked doubtful.

“You have so many merits though, Dorothea! I am quite sure someone as beauti-”

“Don't throw flowery words at me, Ferdie. Flowers don't always bloom on their own, you know.”

Whatever that meant, Ferdinand had no retort.

Sylvain remembered the original point. “Okay, so the Golden Deer are out. You didn't feel like schmoozing with Edelgard?”

“I mean... I don't think I should.” She suddenly looked cagey. “Doesn't matter. Hubert is always right there, and he's...”

“Scary?” Wren supplied.

“Annoying.”

That was surprising, but Lysithea wasn't the average student. “How so?”

Lysithea sighed. “Even if I wanted to talk to Edelgard, he's always right there like a dog. And he's so snoopy. He acts like he's indifferent, but he is definitely always keen. He's too sharp and bristly, yet he would melt for Edelgard.”

“I don't think Hubie would melt, although you do have a point,” Dorothea said. “I mean, I know I once confronted him about his crush on Edelgard.”

“Hubert is as Hubert does,” Wren admitted. “He's Edelgard's right hand. Of course he's going to be loyal.”

“There is being loyal, and being a sycophant, and with Hubert, it is hard to tell the difference,” Ferdinand said sagely. “I sometimes wonder if he would ever outright object to something Edelgard would say.”

“I think we should stop talking about him,” Wren interjected. “He seems like the kind of guy that knows we're even having this conversation.”

“Too true,” Sylvain agreed. “So! Lysithea, welcome to our club! Feel free to sit with us anytime.”

“I would certainly hope so,” Lysithea replied. “Anyway, so how are you preparing for the mock battle?”

“Well, the professor has us train a lot. We get a lot of practical experience through missions alone. She definitely knows her way around a battlefield.”

“Good. I have no intention to lose. Professor Hanneman is great with magic, but he definitely focuses too much on theory; I need to actually blast things away if I want to win.”

“Well this is the house for you!” Caspar yelled. “All we do is blast things away!”

There was lots of joking to be had as the Black Eagles got to know the former Golden Deer better, and found that Lysithea was funny in her own way. She so desperately wanted to seem like an adult, but there was definitely a childlike innocence there that no one wanted to address. Lysithea would be irritated or infuriated if they did.

When dinner was finished, they all bid each other good night, and Sylvain followed Wren back to her room.

“The mock battle really is coming up,” Sylvain said as they both entered her room. He watched her as she took off her shoes.

“There's something on your mind, isn't there?” Wren asked, knowing him all too well. His tone betrayed his words.

“Yeah, I don't know... Just feels weird how I'll be fighting my former house. It feels...” He ruffled his hair as he tried to come up with the words.

“You're dreading it,” Wren deadpanned. “You're having to face something you never thought you'd have to confront.”

He nodded, also shucking his boots. “Yeah... I mean, they already hate me, so I feel like they're going to zone in on me.”

Wren snorted as she started to change into her sleeping clothes. “Yeah, and if they do, well, we'll do what we always do. How did Lysithea and Caspar put it? We'll blast them away?”

Sylvain chuckled. “Yeah, we will.”

“And you know the professor. She's a great strategist. She won't let us be vulnerable. We may have had close calls in the past, but so far we haven't been defeated or died yet.” She sat on her bed and patted the spot next to her.

Sylvain sat next to her as she brushed her fingers through his hair. Sylvain never really talked about it, but he definitely enjoyed a nice scalp massage. He was very physical in general, but whenever Wren initiated affection, he melted.

“You say that so casually, like you've never even considered you'd die.” His tone took a slightly dark edge but Wren wasn't sure if he meant it badly.

“Well, when you've tried to take your own life, and survived, you learn to cherish it, but also fight for it.” She kissed him along his jawline. Her lips lingered by his ear as she growled, “And I will fight for you.”

“Shouldn't that be my line?” he laughed as she kissed his neck. “I'd protect you too!”

“Then we'll protect each other. Nothing will tear us apart. We're a team, and even if the world burns around us, we will always rise again.”

“That's so ominous,” Sylvain murmured as he took his turn kissing Wren, fingers digging into her back as she relented and lied down.

So things were going to go in that direction.

Sylvain situated himself between her legs as he ground into her. She sighed, having trouble keeping the conversation flowing as fire bloomed in her loins, the pleasure of just his clothed groin too delicious to ignore.

“I can't die,” she managed to squeak as his hands singed her skin, burning her with lust. “If I die, then that means I won't experience this again.”

“Ahh, so my body is what keeps you going,” Sylvain jested as he bit lightly at her neck. She moaned between closed lips, not wanting her neighbors hear what they were getting up to. They probably already knew, but Wren wanted to attempt at being courteous.

“Sylvain, please stop talking and put your mouth to work,” she begged, knowing Sylvain was just teasing her. She hated when he did that, but also loved it.

“You're so spoiled,” he jokingly reprimanded as he did exactly what she wanted. Muffled by her clenched thighs, he couldn't help but say, “I can only imagine what you'd do if I were gone. Who else would treat you like this?” His fingers found themselves inside her and she cried out.

“You're the only one for me, you dick,” she choked out, breath becoming heavy as Sylvain was bringing her closer to her peak. “I'd die before taking someone else.”

Wren had always been honest, but this was possibly the first time she declared she wanted only him. Forever. Before, she had told him she considered marriage, but they knew that was a formality and also something their parents had brought to the table to begin with. When you're a noble, attending school with other nobles, with the intent (perhaps against your will) to find a marriage partner, that was something that was at least in the back of the mind. Some tried to ignore it and play around (Sylvain) and others tried to ignore it because they had other plans (Wren), but it was something that would come back in full force, either by their own choice, or their parents'. The two were lucky they had found each other.

Marriage used to bother Sylvain. He saw it as inevitable, that he'd be miserable with whomever his parents chose. But he could play the part. He was already faking a smile anyway. And then Wren sang her way into his life and for once Sylvain felt hope.

Likewise, Wren knew it was inevitable, but she wanted to pretend she could escape, but with Sylvain, he was both the inevitability and the escape. If she had to marry, it would be him, because she actually loved him, and that was something that was entirely too precious to relinquish.

Knowing he could triumph, that he could actually have a happy life, Sylvain easily brought her to orgasm. Wren screamed out, and Sylvain immediately placed his hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. This was the loudest she had ever been, and while that was mollifying to Sylvain, it was also almost embarrassing. She was shameless and Sylvain loved that, but her neighbors wouldn't.

“Babe, you gotta keep it down,” he whispered, but she heard the smile in his voice. “Glad to know I can make you scream, but the whole world doesn't need to know that.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, and Sylvain could hear the horror in her voice. “In the moment, I can't help myself. Just throw a pillow over my head next time.”

“I'm not gonna suffocate you, silly,” he chuckled as he climbed over her to kiss her forehead. “Just bite your lip or something.”

“Hmm, I'll consider it,” she joked as she kissed his cheek. Her hand found its way around his cock and Sylvain gasped as she began stroking him.

He could feel his arms slowly giving out as the pleasure became too much. Wren was a demon with her hands, so strong yet gentle, dexterous and eager. She pushed him to his side as she pumped harder, using both hands, tight and warm.

“Ffffuckkkk,” Sylvain hoarsely whispered, understanding why Wren couldn't keep her voice down when he did this to her. It was just too good. He clung to her as his body twitched and out shot cum, making a mess of her sheets, some dripping onto her hands.

“Was it good?” she asked, worry creeping in her voice, but Sylvain knew she was just playing the part. She knew damn well it was good.

“Yes,” he sighed, finally relaxing. “Sorry I made a mess.”

“Don't worry about it. I can have my sheets laundered in the morning.” She got up to at least wipe some of it off her hands and get most of it off her sheets. “I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. That's worth it.”

He hummed in response as she climbed back into bed, wrapping her body around him. They enjoyed post-coital cuddling very much, clinging to each other as if they'd float away.

“Sylvain?” she said after a few minutes of quiet. “Can I say something?”

“Of course. What's on your mind?” he replied, face buried in her hair.

“I'm worried about this upcoming mock battle.”

He pulled away to look at her in the soft moonlight. “Why is that?”

“The battle is one thing, but don't you think this isn't right? Why are we being prepared for combat like this? We're nobles; we'd have soldiers of our own. We haven't seen conflict in probably centuries.”

“You're not wrong, but should something happen, well, it's expected of us to fight alongside our people. We'd be generals.”

“Yeah, but... There's something else going on. I feel like this is a distraction for something else. I feel like...” She hesitated.

“Go ahead,” he gently urged, knowing she'd lose her nerve if she didn't. Wren always spoke her mind, so this was incredibly unusual for her.

“I feel like something terrible is about to happen.”

He stared at her. This was genuinely upsetting her.

“Hey, don't let that bother you. Everything is fine. It will always be fine. Didn't you say earlier we'd always be together? That we'd always protect each other?”

“Yeah...”

“Then there's nothing to worry about. We have each other's backs. Even if something happened, we'd end up on top. Nothing can break us apart.”

“I'm not talking about that though. I'm not worried about us. I'm worried about our classmates. I'm worried about our school. Our missions have only gotten more dangerous. There is someone out there who has it out for the church, for all of us. And while I don't really care about the church itself, I am worried about the people housed here. If they have a problem with the church, then we should be left out of it.”

He agreed with her, absolutely, but it was almost too deep for him to go into.

“They will. We're just doing as instructed. It's curriculum, you know?”

“Sylvain, we're being taught to fight for the church though. If something were to happen, we'd be expected to defend it, to defend the monastery. I don't know how I feel about that.”

“It's our home for now. Of course they'd expect that.”

“Yeah but-”

“Wren, it's going to be okay. We're just having a mock battle. After that, we'll have some other weirdo mission, and then after that is the ball, and you know we'll have a blast doing that,” he said, flirtation affecting his tone.

She ignored the flirting. “It just feels like we're celebrating something that shouldn't be celebrated. Who cares about that war? Why would we have to fight each other? Isn't there peace?”

“Wren. It's just like any other mission. If anything, this one is definitely less dangerous. You're going to be fine. We're going to be fine. All of us.” He kissed her forehead again. “Go to sleep. We've got class, and the professor is going to run drills tomorrow to prepare us. We've got to be prepared.”

Wren didn't say anything, not wanting to argue right now. She was tired. Post-orgasm clarity turned into overthinking. She knew she wasn't wrong, but this was the wrong time to bring it up.

Regardless, something that night had brought her to some conclusion, and she could only hope whatever bad feeling she had was merely that: a bad feeling.

Chapter 20: Something's Wrong with Garreg Mach

Summary:

Wren still has a feeling something is wrong, but fights in the mock battle regardless. But then, the tragedy no one expects occurs, which only solidifies her feelings.

Notes:

I FINALLY HAVE A VISUAL FOR WREN. Please click

pic.twitter.com/xBNUoPloYK

if you would like to see what she looks like (and if you want to follow my art account) I just recently got Procreate for my iPad and it has helped tremendously with digital art. I was always a traditionalist because using a Wacom Bamboo on my laptop was just... Oof. So I hope to make more art with Wren and Sylvain!

I feel like this chapter is really heavy on what already happened in the game but it definitely is important to what is going to happen in the story.

I always thought it was weird you could use actual weapons in the mock battles despite that even on classic mode you won't lose students, so in this chapter for the mock battle, I have everyone using training weapons, and instead of inflicting actual injuries, they capture flags instead. I'm pretty sure that's a trope a lot of other media use too lmao

Leave a comment or kudos!

The day of the mock battle arrived and Sylvain still had that dread, and Wren had her suspicions. Neither really thought highly of the school at this point over something that, in retrospect, made no sense. As Wren said, why were they reenacting a battle that occurred centuries ago. It was very odd.

But everyone in the school seemed to have so much excitement so it was hard to ignore. Wren kept her musings to herself and Sylvain didn’t tell his fellow Black Eagles about his reservations in fighting the Blue Lions.

Lysithea was ready to roll. The girl, though she had her childish moments that she so desperately tried to hide, was also mildly bloodthirsty. Downing the Death Knight in a previous battle seemed to only inflate her ego more. She was easily the most powerful mage in the class, so any armor units would easily be downed by her.

Annette and Mercedes also seemed unbothered by it all. If anything, they also looked forward to winning.

Petra prepared as if she was going on a hunt, readying her arrows and sharpening her blade. While the weapons being used were all training weapons as to avoid actual death, they were to be used as if this were an actual battle. Counterintuitive, sure, but that was the requirement. Petra was very focused, even as Dorothea was talking her ear off. She seemed either oblivious to the girl’s charms, or was so used to it that it was part of her natural routine.

Edelgard had private discussions with Professor Byleth and was determined, if not outright confident, that they would seize the day. Hubert was ever close by, listening in on this conversation that the other house leaders crashed in on. Everyone seemed to have proper sportsmanship and were pleasant to each other, but they clearly all desired victory.

Linhardt was bothered, wanting more to sleep than anything, but he went over a few healing spells as Caspar practiced his battle cries. Ferdinand seemed to gloat that he’d win for everyone, as that was his noble duty, but everyone mostly rolled her eyes. Sylvain and Wren were amused and let him have his moment.

Bernadetta was doing everything in her power to sneak off, but Byleth wouldn’t let her. There was a lot of groaning, but she eventually relented.

The students all gathered around their professor in their designated area and awaited the signal to start.

There was a brief speech by Seteth and Rhea, instructions on how to conduct themselves. Flags were tied in various areas on the students’ bodies, up to their discretion, three each, and a student would be downed if all three were taken. Flags were color-coded per house, so red was for the Black Eagles, blue for the Lions, and yellow for the Deer. The Knights of Seiros were also overseeing the battle, ready to swoop in should there be any disaster. Surely there wouldn’t, because this was a mock battle so no serious injuries should be had, but perhaps it was better to be safe rather than sorry. Sylvain squeezed Wren’s hand, looking over to the southern side of the battlefield where the entire Blue Lions class was. Though they were far, and Sylvain’s eyesight not the greatest, he could feel the heated stares of Ingrid and Felix. This would be a very unpleasant battle.

“It’s going to be alright, Sylvain. I won’t let them hurt you,” Wren quietly said, hoping to soothe him.

He narrowed his eyes, not looking at her. “You don’t need to. This is just a battle. Against my friends. Perfectly normal. They hate my guts. It’ll be fine.”

She hated the sarcasm so she couldn’t help but bitingly say, “They never treated you right to begin with. You’ve told me as much. They have it coming, moonbeam.”

“Sunshine, you don’t need to coddle me. I’m good now.”

She sighed. “I’m just trying to be supportive.”

“And you have been. But this is between me and them. It’s my responsibility. You focus on yourself and the others.”

She didn’t want to argue as other students seemed to overhear the terse conversation, so she let it alone. They were to fight as a unit. No going rogue. Look out for your fellow soldier. That’s how they were trained.

Although Byleth did tell them to not put themselves into peril unless absolutely necessary. Even if the conditions for a loss were the retrieval of a flag tied around a limb, if this were real, that flag being torn off meant death, and Byleth didn’t want anyone to fall. But she knew it wouldn’t be easy. They were still kids, and even if some of them were very skilled, she didn’t want harm to befall any of them. It was her duty as a professor to ensure their safety, a feeling that was normally foreign to her. The other professors wouldn’t be participating and while Byleth did find that unfair, much to the chagrin of her peers, she could only do so much to protect her students. She couldn’t be there to protect all of them so the tactics and strategy she gave them would have to be their saving grace.

Something about being a professor at the monastery had done wonders for her. Byleth felt...feelings. Even her father noticed. She wasn’t sure how to deal with that, so she let it happen naturally. Maybe one day there would be an explanation. Today was not the day for that though.

Edelgard gave a speech to boost morale and everyone around them, including the students that were merely acting as battallions and support and weren’t the heavy players, seemed to be excited. Edelgard was truly an excellent leader.

Then, the signal, and everyone rushed out, ready for (symbolic) blood.

Byleth led the charge towards the ballista, hoping to seize it, as that would give a huge advantage to them. The other houses seemed to think the same thing and rushed that way as well, taking down or being taken down by other students. It was a frenzy as students tried to slash and blast their way through, but Byleth, acting as a wall for Bernadetta, cleared the fort alongside Edelgard, and the meek Bernie had full control over the structure. Seeing as she was their main archer (Petra a close behind), and that she wanted to mostly be out of the action, this area was perfect for her. Bernadetta, confident now that she was alone, had no problem shooting arrows to injure students from a distance, some flags even being pierced by her precise aim. From there, Byleth and Edelgard, as well as Lysithea, rushed the south field where Dedue and Leonie were duking it out.

Wren and Sylvain were ordered to take out the eastern side of the field, heading towards Claude and the other Golden Deer. Wren dodged one of Ignatz’s arrows with ease and Sylvain galloped his way to Raphael, where he managed to get a hit on the large boy, snatching a flag off his arm, though he did not go down easily. Raphael managed to get a good hit on Sylvain’s left thigh, drawing some blood but also grabbing the flag, and Sylvain did let out a curse, but Linhardt easily used Physic to heal the wound. Sylvain then rushed past Raphael, managing to snatch the flag on the opposite arm, as Wren joined, having downed Ignatz, all three of his flags attached to her belt, and effortlessly avoided Raphael’s punches where she mock-stabbed him in the side, taking a flag. Raphael was disappointed in being taken out so soon, but left the field anyway.

Back to the south, Lysithea did not hesitate in blasting Dedue with a Mire spell. The normally weak spell, weakest of all the dark magic there was, did critical damage and Dedue was de-done, Lysithea snatching all three flags.

Dimitri did let out a roar as he charged toward Edelgard, taking out battallions and other students, ready to ‘take her head’ as he may have yelled out. As he and Edelgard dueled, Ingrid and Felix slipped past their defenses to head towards the east. Ashe had managed to take out Annette, which left Mercedes upset, and she, in her distraction, had been taken down by another student.

Had this been a real battle, there would have been corpses left and right, the grassy field turned into a sea of blood.

Claude was very difficult to fight, and Wren and Sylvain had to deal with a small horde of other students before they could even get to him. Claude’s arrows were precise and Wren did feel one hit her square in the shoulder, her flag zipping off, but it wasn’t enough to take her out yet.

Lorenz was flinging spells at Caspar, who unfortunately was too weak in resistance to sustain much more. He was down.

As Lorenz collected all of Caspar’s flags, Dorothea came out of nowhere and blasted Lorenz, who was gone in a flash. He did not appreciate that all, but like a true noble, so he claimed, he dutifully left the field as Dorothea relieved him of the flags.

Ferdinand intercepted Felix and Ingrid, and was holding them off valiantly when Petra sprung from the high grass and knocked Ingrid off her pegasus. Ingrid cursed and Felix took out Ferdinand, and then turned his attention to the incredibly evasive and fast Petra. He could not get a hit on her at all, which was maddening for him. However, though any other Blue Lion would have fought her out of chivalry until one of them would perish, Felix fled, heading towards Sylvain whom he knew he could beat. Petra still had all three of her flags and had taken all of Ingrid’s.

Wren intercepted Felix and flashbacks of their encounter during the tournament assaulted his mind. He was prepared for her tricky ways now and was much better prepared. He would not lose to her again.

The two clashed swords, cursing at each other as Wren blocked Felix at every turn, the boy trying to avoid her so he could take out her boyfriend.

“Just go down already!” Felix yelled at her, swinging with precision.

“Hell no! I only go down for Sylvain!” she retorted, laughing at her innuendo, which only infuriated Felix.

“We’re in the middle of a battle, and you’re going to make jokes? Disgusting,” he returned, a swing toward her head accompanying his words.

“What can I say? I have a great sense of humor!” she laughed as she twisted away from his swing.

There weren’t many other words passed between them when they both heard Petra command her battallion of archers to rain arrows down on Felix. He cursed and tried to make a run for it, but some of the arrows pinned his trouser legs down, where Wren got a clean hit, his flags hers for the taking.

He glared at her as she gloated, smirking and easily retreating, determined to assist Sylvain.

Sylvain could not get a hit on Claude. The young man of mystery hid so well in the heavily forested area, shooting arrows with ease. One caught Sylvain and that’s when he knew it was over. His flags were gone.

“Sylvain, no!” Wren yelled, dashing towards him. Claude nearly got a hit on her, but she managed to dodge, leaping over an exposed root from a tree.

“Petra, go after Claude!” Wren commanded, knowing if anyone could fight the opposing leader in a heavily wooded area, it would be the girl who had serious hunting skills and was perfectly suited for conditions like this.

“It is being my pleasure!” Petra agreed, slipping into the shadows of the trees easily, not even her own teammates seeing where she went.

There was a sudden yell of surprise and that’s when they knew Claude was out. Petra emerged from his spot with all three of his flags as well as the main Golden Deer flag, a sign that the Deer were officially out. This represented capturing a base.

Sylvain had left the battlefield which was disappointing for Wren, but she turned her attention back to the west where Edelgard and Dimitri were still trading blows. It was shocking, but Edelgard and the prince both had a surprising amount of stamina. They each had one flag left.

Byleth had fended off other students so Edelgard could focus on her battle with Dimitri and Wren and Petra came rushing to her side to deal with any others.

Their sudden appearance sent Dimitri off guard for a millisecond but that was all it took for Edelgard to get a clean hit on him. Dimitri conceded, Edelgard now with the Blue Lions base flag, and the battle was won.

The Black Eagles won the mock battle, and victory was...bittersweet.

They lost a lot of classmates to the battle. Again, had this been a real one... They’d be dead. It was a sobering thought, but no one had died, nor had been seriously injured, so there was still celebrating to be had.

A giant feast where all the houses had gotten together, having not felt more camaraderie in ages. Even if some lost, it was still fun.

Not to Wren. She still felt off, but she couldn’t help but celebrate with her friends, even if the nagging thought of what the mock battle’s intent was wouldn’t leave her mind. But she enjoyed the drink and food and song and laughed alongside her classmates, pretending everything was fine.

There was always levity before things turned dire. And none of them would be prepared for it.

~*~

The Knights of Seiros were ill at ease, having learned of reports of something happening in Remire Village. This was apparently the last village Jeralt and Byleth had visited before being approached by the Knights and the three house leaders. There was something about it that screamed serendipity, but everyone else thought it a coincidence. Remire was fairly close and had a known bandit problem. This wasn’t too out of place.

So classes went on normally and no one paid it any mind. The incident would be the Black Eagles’ next mission, a small skirmish at worst. It was clearly bandits. That’s what it normally was.

But with strange happenings going around, from Flayn’s kidnapping to the death of Lonato, Wren felt something sinister stirring around her. None of this was normal, and Remire wouldn’t be any different.

And she was sickened when she found herself correct. Remire was...horrifying.

There was carnage everywhere. Innocent villagers’ bodies were strewn across pavement, mutilated, dismembered, bloody, gorey, and it was enough to make even the heartiest of warriors sick.

The villagers who had murdered their own neighbors looked crazed, their eyes whited out, screaming, drooling, hungry for death. They stabbed and even mauled others, screams of the innocent dying a loud cacophony. Some of the Black Eagles students wretched and were instructed to stay off the battlefield. Clearly this was too much for them.

Those who managed to stomach the disaster gathered around Byleth and Jeralt and the other knights that attended them and a strategy was made. From the distance there was someone seeming to either witness and observe the chaos, or they were orchestrating it. Regardless, this person had to be captured, either alive or dead. This madness had to stop.

So the students and knights ran into the battle, killing the violent villagers. It was horrible, killing people who were otherwise innocent, just not of their right mind, but saving those who were actual victims was the balm for that wound at least.

There was fire everywhere. Smoke filled the lungs and Wren found herself coughing. She had run straight into a burning house to save a small child and what looked to be the family dog. She had them run to Linhardt and Mercedes for healing as she looked around for more people. She tripped over a disemboweled woman that she realized must have been that child’s mother and nearly found herself crying, but a crazed villager running her way shook her from that horror and she easily slashed the man through the chest. He was down and all she could do was run and keep her wits about her. She could cry over this later.

She saw Sylvain slowly being surrounded by more crazed villagers as a woman climbed onto his horse for escape. Wren cut through the small crowd to make an opening for them. Sylvain cantered off with the woman and thankfully Petra had rushed to Wren’s aid and they made quick work of the rest of the crazies.

They saw in the distance Byleth confronting the man. It was... Tomas. Wren felt icy shock overtake her. Tomas was always a kind and helpful man. He was the librarian who didn’t seem to mind her dirty hobby of reading trashy novels. How he could cause this was...

And then the man transformed and it was no longer Tomas, but some man who called himself Solas. Wren realized that this entire time she had probably been talking to a spy, or someone who ultimately was a body-snatcher. She was horrified. Someone she had trusted was actually... A total stranger.

She didn’t have time to be embarrassed as she saw the Death Knight make an appearance. She heard Lysithea cackle in glee as she rushed towards the Death Knight. Ferdinand and Caspar were close behind so she wouldn’t be killed by the entourage that accompanied the ghoulish man.

Without hesitation Lysithea threw a Dark Spikes spell and he was down, cursing and then warping away. For someone who seemed to be a large antagonist of the church, he sure was easily taken out by a teenage girl. If anything, this man was no longer a threat.

Byleth was trying to get information out of Solas as she battled him but he seemed mum on the subject and she had no choice but to kill him.

The battle was done, and the students and their professor were covered in the blood of innocents. The few they did manage to rescue were crying, mourning, and Wren knew she would hear these cries even in her sleep. They all would.

Edelgard had seemed to disappear but perhaps she was investigating something. Wren held Sylvain’s hand and they looked into each other’s eyes.

That fear of dying wasn’t so silly after all.

~*~

They later found out that the Flame Emperor, or rather whoever they were associated with, had caused this calamity. No one was sure as to whether to believe this statement or not, because regardless the Flame Emperor was there, and anyone who was teaming up with those that had caused such a tragedy couldn’t have been much better, but they had been insistent but disappeared as soon as Byleth was distracted by Hubert of all people. He had lost track of Edelgard. How that happened was...questionable, but it was a long enough interjection that gave the Flame Emperor a chance to escape questioning.

They all had to go about their normal duties as students despite the trauma they all experienced, but Byleth was compassionate and let them have a day to themselves should they need it. She wouldn’t tell anyone.

Wren and Sylvain had found themselves in the library, investigating, looking for any signs that perhaps Tomas had been real, but was murdered and his ‘replacement’ had taken over. But even trying to find secret passages and searching through the man’s belongings gave them nothing. Tomas actually didn’t even have many belongings besides a few books by his bed. Nothing too concerning, although one looked like it had been a cover for something else. The pages had been torn out of it, as if whoever found it was in cahoots and didn’t want there to be any evidence.

Whoever Tomas was working with, and by proxy the Flame Emperor and Death Knight, was an insider. Jeritza had been the Death Knight and that was one thing, Jeritza was kind of suspicious to begin with, but even the librarian? At this point, could anyone be trusted? Wren and Sylvain weren’t so sure.

Claude had also walked into the library, looking nonethewiser, but Wren had a suspicion he also wanted to investigate. He gave that impression.

“Oh, I’m surprised to see you two here,” Claude said casually. Too casually for Wren. Sylvain seemed to pick up on that too as he placed a hand on the small of Wren’s back.

“Eh, we read too, you know,” Sylvain chided, but his tone was clipped. “What brings you here, Claude?”

“Well, if you must know, there was this history book I’ve been hunting for a while now, but it’s either always conveniently checked out, or Tomas ‘misplaced’ it,” he finished in air quotes. “Now that he’s gone, maybe I can find this book after all.”

Wren couldn’t help but be curious. “Does this book have any sort of information on recent events?”

Claude chuckled. “Honestly? I’m not sure, but it seemed the type that would. I found it at the beginning of the year but was caught by Seteth. He took the book from me, and, well,” he winked at Wren, “I’m sure you’re aware Seteth loves his censorship.”

Wren felt herself flush but didn’t comment on it. “Well, I talk with Seteth a lot, and... You’re not wrong. He does seem to like to keep things secret.” She then decided if anyone she could be a co-conspirator with that wasn’t Sylvain, it was Claude. “To be honest, the church has seemed pretty sus for a while now.”

“Ah, interesting. You see it too.” Claude turned his gaze to Sylvain. “What does our local philanderer here think?”

“Hey! I don’t philander anymore, just so you know,” Sylvain said, a little indignant. “But, well... There is definitely something they’re keeping from us.”

“Yeah... You know, I’m surprised there are others here that question everything going around. Although, you’d have to be completely waistdeep in the church dogma in order to not see it, and from what I know of you two...” Wren did not like the way he said that. “...you don’t seem the religious types.”

“I divorced myself from the beliefs a long time ago,” Wren replied. “I’m only here as a punishment from my parents. Well, maybe not so much a punishment but an opportunity to become a proper noble, whatever the hell that meant.”

“Ah, I see...” Claude seemed like he knew more than he let on. “Well, since we’re all here, have you seen anything suspicious in here?”

“We found a book that had all its pages torn out,” Sylvain said, still holding the book in his hand. “Figured maybe we should keep it. Maybe we can get something out of it.” He handed the book to Claude.

Claude inspected it. “They did a thorough job. There is nothing here to indicate what kind of book this was other than the cover,” and he flipped the book over to expose what the contents should have been: an encyclopedia of church terms. Something a normal student probably wouldn’t care too much about, but in the hands of someone who worked for the church, would be completely normal. “But if you look closely, this book had been bound twice. The original contents had to have been removed, rebound with the new contents, and I guess after the recent debacle,” Claude said as Wren thought that’s one way to put it, “was ripped apart again. So no. We won’t find anything useful here.”

“Damn, that’s a shame.” Sylvain said, scratching his head. “That was the only lead we had so far.”

“It is a shame,” Claude said, tucking the cover into his pocket. “I’m keeping it though. I don’t want some official to confiscate it. This is the only proof that there was something else in this book. I’m sure... Well, I’ll find out more.”

“Scheming as always, aren’t you Claude?” Wren said conversationally. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find something. Let’s go, Sylvain. I don’t think we’ll find much else here.”

“You’re right,” Sylvain agreed. “Good seeing you, Claude.” They left.

“I think Claude knows more than he lets on,” Wren muttered as they hurried away from the library.

“Oh absolutely,” Sylvain returned. “But if we haven’t found something, there’s no way he will. Unless someone leaves a really obvious clue, but at this point, they clearly clean after themselves too well.”

“Not well enough. That whole book should have been thrown away. Why did they leave just the binding?” Wren suggested.

“Maybe they wanted us to know that there was something going on, but not exactly revealing what it is.”

“That...makes no sense, so unless they’re trying to leave a coded message...” But Wren had looked through the books and library very thoroughly and there was nothing there that could have been a code. “I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Yeah. Hey, let’s just forget about it. The ball is coming up as well as the White Heron Cup, and I’m hoping the professor chooses me to be the representative.”

“Why do you want to represent us?” Wren laughed as they descended the stairs.

“Maybe I want you to watch me shake my ass,” Sylvain joked. Wren didn’t believe it.

“I see you do that anyway. You just want to show off.”

“Maybe,” he said noncommittally. “Well, whoever the professor picks, they better be amazing.”

“Yeah, agreed. Glory to the Black Eagles!” Wren cheered.

“Glory to the Black Eagles!” Sylvain returned, and they mocked clinking glasses, and laughed on their way to the dining hall. All that (unsuccessful) investigating left them hungry, and if their curiosity could not be sated, than at least their stomachs would.

Chapter 21: Singing Your Feelings

Summary:

After the tragedy of such a calamity, Sylvain has an accident that leaves Wren terrified. He recovers, she sings, and they find themselves in preparations for the ball. The time for much needed levity has come.

Notes:

Wow it's been a minute. Like, since April of this year. I'm so sorry for the delay. Work has gotten weird and somehow this year has been more stressful than the previous and I have had little to no mojo for writing.

Couple brief notes. Daffodils and daisies can mean new beginnings in flower language. You'll understand why later. I also did research on jazz music in college for a play I was a sound designer for, so I got to employ some of that here too. This is also the chapter where the origin of the name of the fic is finally revealed. Thanks Spotify for the song recommendation. More notes at the end! Thanks for reading!

The calamity could not be forgotten, but Wren and Sylvain did what they must to distract themselves from it, from studying to oral sex. They took market trips when they could to find clothes for the ball. Odds are parents of the students would be sending them proper attire, but Wren doubted her parents would and therefore wanted to pick her own out.

The Ethereal Moon had come, and with it icy weather. Snow was falling in droves and Wren did all she could to bundle up on their market visits. She took to wearing wool stockings instead of her normal thigh highs (itchy but warm at least) and long sleeves, and Mercedes had blessedly given her a shawl. Sylvain was mostly unperturbed, seeing as he came from the north, but poor little southern Wren wasn’t built for this.

She hated the hot, but she was used to it. This cold ate through her skin, down to her bones, and she found it hard to move. She was thankful Sylvain had wrapped his arm around her to lead her around. Her legs would not stop shaking.

They found a tailor’s and Wren looked at the many garments, from vintage fashions, to proper attire, to the latest trends. Some were things she wouldn’t expect to see anyone wearing, and others were simply mind-boggling. (“There are so many straps... How would anyone get into this...?” “The fun is taking it off.” “SYLVAIN!”) Wren found a dress though that caught her eye immediately.

It was a beautiful dark teal, erring on the side of green moreso than blue, but it was riveting nonetheless. The straps wound around the shoulders down to the center of the bodice, where they weaved their way around her body in silvery shimmers. There were large slits on both sides to expose her legs, but there was a dark, lace slip to cover the indecency. Her back would be completely bare. The bodice fit snugly and the skirt was loose so that she could go wild in dancing. It was beautiful and so ‘her’ that she had to buy it immediately.

The tailor measured and made adjustments and told her it would be done before the ball. He looked to Sylvain who had found a dashing top coat of velvet and taffeta, a shade darker than Wren’s dress.

“Ah, you two must be going together,” the tailor said, a small smile on his face. “Not many students decide to match.”

“Is it really that abnormal?” Wren asked.

“The young focus on their own individual looks, never their partner’s. It’s refreshing that you two would.”

Wren just gave a smile awkwardly, as she didn’t know how else to respond. Why wouldn’t she have matched with Sylvain? It was the ultimate way to say they were a couple. Not that no one in the school didn’t know.

The tailor made adjustments on Sylvain’s and once the price was adjusted, the two paid and went on their way.

Sylvain kissed the top of Wren’s head. “You’re going to be the prettiest at the ball. Everyone is going to be so jealous.”

“I don’t really care if they’re jealous. I’m just glad it’s you and me,” she said simply, smiling up at him.

“Well, I’m jealous of me.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

He chuckled. “It does. You’ll see.”

“Whatever,” she laughed it off and they made their way back to the monastery.

Sylvain stopped for a moment, as if he forgot something. “Wait, Wren, go ahead without me. I gotta get something.”

“Why can’t I just go with you?” she asked, confused. They literally spent the day shopping together. Why did Sylvain need to do this...

Oh. Maybe he needed something only a guy would need, but Wren couldn’t figure out what that would be, and they already practically lived together. There were no secrets between them.

“I’ll be extra good to you after dinner,” he remarked with a wink. Wren scoffed in mock anger.

“Whatever, Sylvain!” She waved after him as he ran off. She sighed to herself. “What a goofball.”

She wandered off to the dining hall to grab dinner and eat with the normal group.

They were chatting excitedly about the upcoming ball and the White Heron Cup when Sylvain finally reappeared. He didn’t look different, and whatever he had gotten wasn’t with him. Wren was curious but she knew Sylvain probably wouldn’t tell her unless she opted for some unfair tactics.

He’d say anything when she put her hands and mouth to work.

But perhaps there was no fun in spoiling whatever the surprise was. Maybe it was something to look forward to. Or maybe it was nothing at all. The thought was maddening but exciting too. She’d find out soon enough.

School went by as it does, and on the free day, Wren found herself painting with Ignatz. Neither were talking, too wrapped up in their own paintings, but it was comfortable. Ignatz was the kind of friend you could sit in the same room with him and ‘do nothing’ and still consider it quality time. It was nice to have quiet friends.

Quick footsteps were heard and Wren turned around to see Petra rushing towards her. She looked incredibly upset but determined.

“Wren! I am so glad to be finding you!” she gasped, adrenaline running rapidly. “You must be coming with me at once!”

“Huh? What’s wrong, Petra?” Wren asked as she started packing her things.

“Sylvain is being- has been injured! Please, there is no time to be wasting!”

Wren felt her world stop. She threw her things to the side and turned to Ignatz. “Please watch my things?” He nodded and she dashed off with Petra.

“What happened, Petra?” Wren asked, her heart beating nonstop.

“He and Ferdinand were practicing their jousting! Ferdinand’s lance broke off though and had stabbed Sylvain in the side! He is being at the infirmary being treated right now!”

The two dashed among students, pushing past them, some being knocked down, but that was their problem. They shouldn’t have been in the way. Wren didn’t care about anyone else at that moment. Sylvain’s name was the only thing reverberating in her mind.

They ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, and Wren’s legs burned with the effort, but when she turned that corner and saw some faculty standing outside the infirmary door, she felt her heart flub all the way into her stomach.

“SYLVAIN!” she screamed, and she ran as fast as she could to him. She was stopped though, grabbed by the arms by the Blade Breaker himself, and all she could do was sob.

“Please, I need to see him...!” she cried, gasping for breath. Her legs were giving way and she found she couldn’t stand. Seteth and Jeralt were supporting her as her world seemed to turn itself topsy turvy.

“Miss Aleo, he is in surgery. Professor Manuela is taking care of him. He will be fine.”

She was inconsolable though, because the worst had gone through her mind.

“Listen, kid,” Jeralt said, finally getting her to stand on her own. “These accidents happen. Boys being stupid boys. It’s what they get for going to war school.”

“Wh-what...?” Wren asked, confused.

“Ah, never mind that. But Sylvain will be fine. They were using training weapons. The damage isn’t that bad.”

Wren could feel herself calming a bit, but her world still seemed to shake.

“Just breathe, Miss Aleo. Everything will be okay.”

They let her go and she just fell to her knees, staring at the door to the infirmary.

“Oh, get up, kid.” Jeralt strong-armed her into standing. She was pliant like a ragdoll.

“Sir Jeralt, I hardly find that proper decorum on how to treat a student.”

“She can barely stand on her own. I would do this to anybody, even you.”

Seteth just grit his teeth and held his tongue.

After what felt like forever, Manuela opened the door to the infirmary, seeing Wren.

“Oh. You poor thing. Sylvain is all right now. Come in. I’ll make some tea, but be quiet. He’s still asleep.”

Wren found the strength to walk forward, only to collapse into a chair next to Sylvain’s cot. His face was pale, but he was breathing, and she was relieved for that.

“Here you go, dear.” Manuela handed Wren a cup of chamomile and Wren sipped it, feeling the warmth course through her, bringing life back to her senses.

“Is he okay?” she asked.

“Yes, the lance dug deep into his side. The light armor he was wearing actually broke off and stabbed into him as well. It was a nasty wound, but not a fatal one. He’ll wake up soon. The sedative I gave him should be wearing off soon.”

Wren nodded and sighed, staring wistfully. Sylvain was just...so handsome. He was kind and funny and strong. She felt safe with him, and he felt safe with her. She said it to him before but now, seeing him recovering from an injury she realized...

I am totally in love with this idiot.

Sylvain made her heart warm. When she saw him, she knew peace. He was safety and security. With him by her side, she could do anything. He gave her hope.

When Sylvain wasn’t around, Wren dabbled in song writing. He knew of her art talent, but song writing was infinitely more personal. He knew she sang, loved her voice. She sang in the choir after all, but Sylvain did not know she wrote her own songs. She played piano and mandolin, but Sylvain had yet to hear the song she wrote about him.

He was her muse, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sylvain stirred, opening his eyes, gently whispering her name as he woke up. Wren gasped and he turned, seeing her for the first time it seemed.

“Hey sunshine,” he said, voice gravelly from the sedative. His face was content upon seeing her, like she was the best possible thing he could wake up to.

“Hey yourself,” she returned, tears gathering but she wouldn’t let them fall. She was so happy he was okay.

“Goddess, I’m so tired... I could sleep all day.”

“Professor Manuela must have given you a strong sedative.” She gestured to the tea. “Do you want some? It’s chamomile.”

“No, I’m fine now that you’re here,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be fine when you’re here.”

She scoffed. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Yeah, maybe I am...” He continued to stare. “Hey Wren.”

“Yeah?”

“Sing me a song?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

“I’m still pretty sleepy. The last thing I want to hear before I pass out again is your voice. So... Sing me a song?”

She pursed her lips. She was just thinking about the song she wrote.

“Is it okay if it’s a work in progress?”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I... kinda wrote a song about you.”

Oh. Well, that was a nice thing to do...

He smiled. “Yeah. I’d love to hear it.”

She suddenly felt very self-conscious and embarrassed. “I don’t know... Maybe I shouldn’t...”

“You can’t just tell me you wrote a song about me and not expect me to not want to hear it. So, c’mon, please?”

She took a breath in. “Okay.” And let it out.

She counted in her head, and sang.

“I believe the morning sun’s always gonna shine again and

I believe a pot of gold waits at every rainbow’s end, oh

I believe in roses kissed with dew

Why shouldn’t I believe the same in you?

I believe in make believe

Fairy tales and lucky charms and

I believe in promises, spoken as you cross your heart, oh

I believe in skies forever blue

Why shouldn’t I believe the same in you?

You may say I’m a fool

Feeling the way that I do

You can call me Pollyanna, say I’m crazy as a loon

I believe in silver linings and that’s why I believe in you”

Sylvain stared as the beautiful notes came from her mouth. He felt a rush of...love? He wasn’t sure what to call it, but he suddenly felt very...alive. As if afraid that this moment wouldn’t last forever. It wouldn’t, no moments do, but this was one he would preserve in his memory for all time.

Her sweet face as she sang. The way the skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips. Sylvain mapped it all out. He reached for her hand and she took it as she still sang.

“I believe there’ll come a day

Maybe it will be tomorrow

When the blue bird flies away

All we have to do is follow

I believe a dream can still come true

Why shouldn’t I believe the same in you?

You may say I’m a fool

Feeling the way that I do

I believe in friends and laughter and the wonders love can do

I believe in songs and magic and that’s why I believe in you”

Wren stopped, still holding Sylvain’s hand. “That’s all I’ve got so far. I think I need one more section and it’ll be done, but I don’t know... What do you think?”

“Is that...how you really feel about me?” he asked, and she could hear the vulnerability in his voice.

“Yeah, I just felt like this the moment I met you. I wanted to give you a chance because it felt like no one else has. You made me believe in something I didn’t think existed.”

All of Sylvain’s nerves were on fire, electricity flitting across his skin as he realized that this girl was The One and all he could say was, “Baby, I feel the same way.”

“Ah, don’t call me baby!” she reprimanded, but humor was evident in her voice. She was blushing wildly and Sylvain thought it was adorable.

“Sorry, sunshine, sorry, but I... I love you. I’ve never felt this way about someone before.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re holding my hand and I immediately wanted you by my side. I always want you by my side.”

Wren didn’t know how to process that without thinking is he fucking proposing for real??? but then Manuela came back in to see he was awake and needed to check his vitals.

“You’ll be good for class tomorrow. You should stay here for the night though,” Manuela said as she straightened.

“I can bring you spare clothes, Sylvain.” Wren suggested. He nodded.

“What, like you’ve got a key or-?” But Wren ran off before Manuela could finish her question. She turned to Sylvain. “Does she?”

Sylvain chuckled and shrugged noncommittally. Manuela rolled her eyes, muttered something like “ugh, teenagers,” and went about her business.

No one needed to know they were almost always together.

~*~

The days passed and Sylvain healed in no time. Dorothea won the White Heron Cup and the ball was on its way. Students hustled to finish picking out and having their clothes tailored but Wren and Sylvain were in their own little world, chatting with friends and doing schoolwork, and each other. When the night finally arrived, Sylvain surprised Wren with what he had said he would.

It was a beautiful white diamond necklace, elaborate and fancy. It must have cost at least ten bullions. Wren was enamored with it as she was with her boyfriend and she immediately lifted her hair so he could place it around her neck. His fingers lingered around her hair line and Wren felt her skin prickle with anticipation, but it never came as Sylvain just turned her around and winked, teasing her.

“You can’t just touch me like that-” but Sylvain hushed her with a kiss that she melted into.

“Oh, you’ll feel more of my touches later,” he hinted, whispering in her ear. She felt thrills through her body, jolts of arousal and wanting.

“You’re such a tease,” she laughed. He kissed her forehead.

“Hey, you teased me first. You’re due for your own dose.”

“Pfft, whatever.” She rummaged through a chest to find her surprise for him.

It was a corsage made of two daffodils perfectly accented by tiny white daisies. Sylvain would have expected roses. It was the go-to flower for special events like this. But this one was very unique and very Wren.

It was very them.

“Mind telling me why you chose daffodils and daisies?” he asked as she fastened it on his lapel.

“I like them and they remind me of you,” she said simply. “There really isn’t more to it than that.”

Sometimes there were a million things going on in Wren’s mind, but in this moment, Sylvain could see she meant it. They really were just flowers that she liked.

“Well, I like you. Thank you. This is really nice.” He admired himself in the mirror. He felt so tall next to her, in his deep emerald velvet tailcoat, long legs in slimming black slacks (not that he needed any slimming down), with black shirt and vest and cravat too. Wren was in her beautiful and somehow sinful dark teal dress, silver accents glinting in the low light of the room. She did wear short heels, but they added very little to her height. Wren wasn’t short, but she was still dwarfed by Sylvain.

They turned to each other, smiling.

“Let’s go,” they simultaneously said, and then laughed, falling into each other, but they righted themselves and Sylvain escorted her towards the reception hall where the ball would take place.

Small flurries of snowflakes blew across the path as students filed in, wrapped in cloaks and coats of fur and wool. Sylvain and Wren finally made it to the doors and were welcomed in.

The chandeliers were lighted like beacons, candelabra gleaming with newly wicked candles and fresh wax. Servers had sparkling wine and small finger foods. Gentle music was being played on stringed instruments of all sorts as the brass section was still getting ready. Wren put her attention towards the band and realized she knew the members. They were from that revival bar from so many months ago. How intriguing.

She knew she could cause trouble and the thought was electrifying.

She nodded her head in their direction, looking at Sylvain, who also noticed the band. He couldn't help but chuckle.

“Tonight is going to be quite the event...” he suggested.

“Oh, no doubt.” She winked at him and saw some of their friends walk in.

Petra was gorgeous. The dress she wore was so very her, short, skin tight, and made of what looked like some sort of animal skin. It glinted in the candlelight in iridescent colors, one shoulder revealed, the other in a tight sleeve. It hugged her body and she wore stylish sandals so her height was unaffected, which somehow made her even more adorable. She was captivating and Wren almost felt bad for still somewhat crushing on her. But she was with Sylvain, the love of her life (at this point), so a school yard crush wasn't anything to worry about.

Next to Petra was Dorothea, who was also in a stunning rose red velvet dress that hugged her curves in the most delicious ways. It was strapless but held her bountiful assets well. Petra couldn't keep her eyes off her.

Mercedes and Annette came in, dragging a very embarrassed but incredibly beautiful Ingrid. Mercie herself was in a modest bolero of a soft baby blue velvet lined with white mink. The dress underneath was of the same material, same amount of modesty, but it made Mercie glow. Annette was in her own rendition of the bolero/dress combo, but chartreuse instead, and it was a bit snugger. They both wore cossack hats to keep their ears warm but took them off when they entered the entrance hall where the coat checkers took them in, writing down a number to keep track of the students' belongings.

Their other friends and peers eventually filed in as well, Ferdinand in a dashing tuxedo of crimson, and even Linhardt and Caspar cleaned up nicely. Felix walked in and although Wren felt almost nothing but animosity towards him, she could admit he looked nice.

She noticed how his eyes zeroed in on Annette and she instantly knew. She couldn't help but chuckle as he kept averting his eyes as he approached her, even stuttering when she greeted him. Wren wouldn't say anything because it would embarrass Annette, but the juicy secret of Felix crushing on Annette was too good to not share.

“Sylvain, did you know Felix liked Annette?” she asked, turning away from the not-couple so they wouldn't hear her.

“Oh yeah. It's been obvious for ages. He's so shy about it. It's kinda cute,” Sylvain admitted. “But that's ancient history. I can't even feel bothered to tease him about it, he's been such a dick.”

“Yeah...” The days of playful banter between would-be brothers was over. “Well, that's his own fault. Probably.”

“Sure,” Sylvain said noncommittally. The music started picking up. “Shall we?”

Wren loved music, and she loved dancing. This slow stuff would drive her crazy, but she'd be sure to ask the band to play a lively number or two. Frankie was the man after all.

So they went through a couple songs before there was finally a pause for Frankie to breathe and grab a drink, and that was when Wren made her strategic segue.

“Eyyy, Frankie what’s up?” Wren greeted casually, Sylvain in tow.

Frankie nearly spat his whiskey. (Where did he get whiskey? This was a school that served watered down sparkling wine.) “Wren?! You really were a student of Garreg Mach after all?”

Wren nodded, laughing. Maybe the wine was already getting to her. “Yeah, heh, I heard the band and Roger the bartender covered for me back when the school investigated the students sneaking out so thanks for that. We had a good time.”

“Yeah girl, we got you. You’re the best singer we’ve ever had.” He couldn't help but raise his glass to her and chug it down. Deep South Adrestians could guzzle alcohol like water.

Wren knew that this was when she could proposition him. “Frankie you and the band are so much better than this. You think you could jazz it up?”

He nodded. “Doll we’d do anything for you. The pay is good, but this? So bland. I was hoping someone would want us at our best.”

“Awesome, how about we start with...” She thought for a moment and the idea hit her. A song that was the perfect suckerpunch. “You know my favorite. The one that starts slow and then just slams?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Excellent choice, doll. We’ll start it soon. You singing?”

Wren was surprised he'd offered. She wanted to, but the school already thought ill of her.

And then she realized she didn't give a shit about what anyone thought of her. This would be a good memory. “Absolutely.”

“You’ll know when to start. I'll call you up.”

She beamed. “Thanks Frankie.” They toasted and she and Sylvain went back to their party.

“You were gone a while. Do you know that man, Wren?” Mercedes asked.

“Yeah, actually. He and I go way back. Used to sing at the bars in my hometown.”

“Oh! The music here is so refined though. The range!” Annette gushed.

“Musicians are musicians.” Wren didn't know how else to respond. “Frankie and the guys are the best. Trust me.”

They'd know soon.

So Wren and Sylvain continued to dance the boring cotillion-style songs as so many other students looked disinterested as well, the adults just staring, making sure the students are leaving room for Seiros.

The music paused for a moment as the drummer beat a small staccato rhythm on the hi-hat. Frankie sauntered up to the mic as he took a swig of whiskey again. Wren secretly hoped Seteth wasn't keeping tabs on how many glasses Frankie had had by now.

“Alright, ladies and gentleman and everyone in-between. You students sure are having a good time aren't ya?” The tone in his voice suggested they weren't, and the bored stares among them all screamed the truth. But the majority of them were nobles, so they wouldn't say anything to the contrary. “Such a raucous reaction. How about we jazz it up?” Confused murmuring. “I know a lovely young lady who doesn't think too differently from you who would love to raise this up a notch. Heya Wren, come on up here doll!” Frankie found her in the audience and bade her forward.

Sylvain smirked at her as Wren's demeanor changed. She gave an absolutely beaming smile and made her way forward. The students continued muttering, waves of “Oh no, her?” as well as “oh this should be good”, sarcastic or not, fluttering around. Most of the adults looked baffled, concerned, or intrigued. Manuela couldn't help but whoop because, though she was a professor, she was bored as hell. Hanneman was trying to rein her in. Byleth was clueless, students staring at her in her backless and strappy jumpsuit that exposed perhaps a bit too much cleavage for a monastery. Jeralt didn't seem to care and continued drinking the whiskey of mysterious origin. Seteth went to say something, suddenly very concerned, but Rhea of all people held him back. “This is meant to be a fun night, Seteth. Let us see what happens.”

“Thanks for the invite, Frankie,” Wren said into the mic once Frankie helped her onto the stage. “I have just the song to make this night a bit more interesting.” She winked at Sylvain, who had neve rheard this song and was teeming with anticipation.

“A-one, a-two, a-one-two-three...” and she began singing a song that was partly in Dagdan.

Shamir smirked and Catherine couldn't understand why. “You know this song?” she asked.

“Oh, do I...” Shamir returned vaguely. “You'll like this, Catherine.”

Wren began her song in dulcet, smooth tones, running her fingers sensuously down the neck of the microphone.

“Moonlight Shadow hitoribocchi
Nodo ga kawaiteta dake na no yo...
Kajiritsuita kajitsu wa
Amai amai moudoku de... okasarete”

Her hand went through her hair as she continued to handle the microphone as if it were something quite different and Sylvain swallowed, his throat dry. Fuck, she was hot.

Her voice belted out the first notes of the second stanza, her finger wagging back and forth as if to deny a statement. No one but Shamir knew that the lyrics were about loving someone who didn't love you back, yet enjoying the affair anyway.

“Black Cherry... nurete ochite
Watashi no naka e tane wo nokoshiyomigaere...
Aishitekurenakute ii yo... aishitenai kara
Kore ijou mijime ni sasenai de...

“Futari no kono History... chotto shita yorimichi na no
Kokoro wa mada Mystery... dakareta yoru no kazu dake nagareshita namida ...”

She bent back as she finished that last line, the music pausing again, and then she slapped her hand down and the music dropped from the slow, cool jazz to a lively and passionate swing.

Wren danced like she hadn't just nearly gotten expelled for this sort of thing several months ago. Sylvain whistled in admiration. Mercie and Annie were shocked but the music and love for their friend took over and they joined together, dancing. Felix was miffed that he missed his chance at dancing with Annette. Ferdinand was scandilized but Edelgard actually dropped her normally cold visage and demanded that Hubert enjoy himself too, whom awkwardly shuffled around. Claude was tearing it up with Byleth. Caspar dragged Linhardt around. Petra thanked the spirits and danced in her Brigidian way and Dorothea couldn't help but admire her and then join her too.

Their other peers had a variety of reactions. Bernadetta had left long ago, finding solace in her room. Hilda yelled out a very loud “THANK FUCK” and dragged Marianne along with her, who was mortified. Flayn wanted to dance and loudly proclaimed it, and Raphael swooped her up and the two danced and laughed and roared together. Seteth was horrified and was trying to bring everyone to attention and have Wren apprehended but Rhea stopped him, shaking her head, allowing everyone to continue. So much for leaving room for Seiros.

Leonie had found the location of the mysterious whiskey and filled a tankard up and drank it while no one was paying attention. Lysithea, wanting to seem mature, had Leonie fill her glass and she promptly spit it out, the drink being too bitter for her tastes.

Most of the other nobles were concerned, even the steadfast Dedue was uneasy as Dimitri inquired if he should join in as well. Commoners like Ignatz weren't unfamiliar with this style of music, but he was shy and shuffled to the side.

Manuela drunkenly joined Petra and Dorothea and the three laughed together, losing themselves to the music. Alois joined them as Shamir and Catherine took the opportunity to leave and go about activities that were perhaps unfit for Knights of Seiros.

The music picked up as Wren began the next verse, dancing to the beat, shaking her hips and shoulders.

“Akai Rouge shatsu no eri
Kotoba wo nomikomi kuchizukeru...
Inkantoshain watashi ja nai kaori
Shiranai... koshitsukai
Mada Ecstasy Replicate
Inoreta hane wo furuwase nagara...
Toumei na Scandal kamishimeta kuchibiru
Slowmotion kizamikomare...”

She winked at Sylvain as the next lines were uttered.

“Don't stop kiss me! Hanarerarenai...”

A look of desperation.

“Don't stop kiss me! Demo yurusenai...”

A look of anguish.

“Ah ah ah ah~ naka ni dashite!”

She threw her head back as if experiencing ecstasy. She didn't know the language very well, but she knew what the lyrics meant, and they were filthy.

The song continued its upbeat way, Wren expressing the meaning of the lyrics in body language, and the student body, which normally hadn't cared much for her, was enthralled. The levity was much needed and appreciated.

There was a brief interlude where Wren just thrashed about, taking Sylvain up on the stage and dancing with him. When that was nearing its end, she went back to her microphone to sing.

“Don't stop kiss me! Hanarerarenai...

“Don't stop kiss me! Demo yurusenai...

“Ah ah ah ah~ Kao ni kakete!”

She clawed at her face as if something splashed onto it and Sylvain suddenly knew what the song was about. It only made her sexier in his opinion.

The song eventually reached its conclusion, Wren doing a final bow at the abrupt end and the students lost their minds, applauding. Wren laughed, thanked them, and hopped off. She collapsed into Sylvain's arms as Mercie went to find water.

This night was much needed after such a strange school year. Everyone continued to dance their hearts out as Frankie and the band continued to play upbeat bebop and swing, eventually petering off into cool. The band was in their element, and it was thanks to that feisty Adrestian from way down in Annevar.

Notes:

Wren is singing Black Cherry by Acid Black Cherry, who is unfortunately on a hiatus. This is their second single ever, from 2008. I specifically linked the live version because Yasu sings a revised line 顔にかけて (kao ni kakete) in the second half which means "over the face" as opposed to the first line of 中に出して which means "come inside." Yeah, you know exactly what that means. Here's a lyric site with the original JPN lyrics, the romaji, and the English translation for those interested. I was introduced to this song by a classmate in a show and tell in our JPN college class. Wonderful song.

This is the song that is the origin of the name and idea of this fic. It was on my Spotify Discover Weekly playlist and I've been obsessed ever since. Had I not heard this song, I'd have never started writing this fic, despite the character of Wren being in my head for a long time now.

I really hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! It was so difficult to write and it took me sitting in a Starbucks for nearly four hours after a year and half of lockdown to finally get it out. Maybe the mojo will come back now. Thanks for reading and plz leave a comment!!!! :)

Chapter 22: A No Good Very Bad Day

Summary:

Wren is hungover on possibly the worst day to be hungover.

Notes:

A bit short but an update at last! I think I'm back babeyyyyy. I've been working on some zine pieces and trying to keep up with my art twitter and instagram. heyitslaceyk on both. Feel free to follow. I'm also taking ko-fi donations again. lace_kyoko on that.

I appreciate everyone that has stuck with this fic. I hope it continues to be enjoyable for everyone. We're gonna hit the timeskip soon and I am very excited for that.

Leave a comment! A kudos! :)

Wren was drunk . The room was spinning as Sylvain put her to bed, putting a wastebasket next to her. He left for just a moment to steal some water from the dining hall. When he returned, Wren was sitting up, trying to get out of bed.

“Sunshine, what are you doing?” Sylvain asked, voicing concern.

“I have to pee,” Wren slurred.

Well, shit. Sylvain put the water aside and helped Wren up. “I’m going to carry you, okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbled and Sylvain hoisted her over his shoulder and went towards the bathrooms. 

Once there, he let Wren do her thing. He could hear her giggling and singing something incoherent, and he made the occasional ‘you okay in there’ comment but finally she finished and had managed to trip her way out. She could barely stand so Sylvain hoisted her up again and carried her back to the room.

Of course, it wasn’t a complete late night excursion without running into Seteth. Why he was this far from his office (the ball had to be done by now) Sylvain would never understand.

“Mr. Gautier, you’re certainly out late…” Seteth said sternly, looking the young man up and down and instantly concerned seeing a female student in his arms. But it was Wren so Seteth just groaned.

“What have you done now?” he asked, gesturing to both of them.

“Wren had to use the bathroom. I helped her over there and now she’s… Tired. So I’m carrying her back.” There was no way he was going to tell Seteth that Wren was shitfaced.

Seteth was a bit unnerved by how cagey Sylvain was being. “You haven’t done anything untoward to her, have you?” He knew they were together, but Seteth couldn’t help being a little suspicious that Sylvain, the (former) resident student whore, may have done something to have Wren in such a lax state.

“Of course not!” Sylvain said, clearly affronted. “Why would I try to hurt my girlfriend?”

Seteth had seen Sylvain lie before and he knew the truth was being told. Sylvain looked insulted at the insinuation that he drugged Wren.

“My apologies. Carry on.” Seteth made to walk away to further secure any wayward students when he stopped himself again. “Wait, you’re escorting her back to her room?”

“Uhh, yes? Where else is she going to sleep?”

“You, a male student, are taking her, a female student, to her room?”

Sylvain just stared in disbelief. “Well, yeah.”

“Mr. Gautier, is she even conscious?” But he heard Wren groan so clearly she must have been.

“Seteth, please, just let Sylvain take me to bed.”

“Phrasing, Sunshine,” Sylvain mumbled, but it only made Wren laugh.

Seteth was already bothered by this entire situation, but Wren’s knowing laugh and Sylvain’s very uncharacteristic sheepishness told Seteth everything.

“Please, be careful,” was all Seteth said and he went on his way. Sylvain could have sworn he saw Seteth grimace on his way out.

“Do you think he knows…?” Wren asked, still slurring a bit. “I mean, it’s gotta be obvious by now.”

“Uhh, I’m pretty sure everyone knows at this point. We’re not exactly subtle.”

“Okay,” Wren mumbled, and proceeded to pass out again.

Sylvain just sighed. He thought he and Wren were going to smash it out, but it seemed the alcohol won her over and she instead merely wanted to cuddle and talk incoherently. Sylvain thought it was kind of funny, but he knew she’d need to sleep at some point.

“Sunshine, go to sleep,” he whispered, trying to coax her. But then Wren started getting handsy and while Sylvain loved what her hands could do to him, this was not the time. She was drunk.

He pulled away from her but then she grabbed his hands and placed them on her chest. Sylvain couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m not going to feel you up. Let’s go to sleep.”

“Nooo, Sylvain, feel my heart! It beats for you ,” she dramatically decried. 

“I can feel that. Okay. Go to sleep.”

She started sniffling. “Sylvain, don’t you love me?”

Of course he did. He was pretty sure he said as much. “Yes, I do, Wren. I love you very much.”

She smiled winningly and then hiccupped. “Okay.” And then she was out like a light.

Sylvain sighed, patting her hair, wrapped her in his arms, and finally fell asleep.

They were unprepared for what the day would bring.

The first thing either of them heard was screaming. There was the sound of students running, teachers barking orders, and a manner of other noise. Sylvain was confused but Wren was irate. She was incredibly hungover and had hoped to sleep in. 

“What the fuck is going on…” she managed to mumble when there was banging at her door. Sylvain got up to answer it.

It was Caspar. “Hey, the Professor needs us! We gotta go to the chapel!” Caspar was oblivious to Sylvain being in Wren’s room, as if this were a normal thing.

“Did something happen?” Sylvain asked, as Wren swore, getting up to find her clothes. “It’s about our mission right?”

“Yeah, well, shit’s apparently gone down and it’s way worse. Edelgard and Hubert already went that way and Ferdinand is rallying everyone upstairs. C’mon!” and then he was gone and Sylvain was still mystified.

Wren managed to get dressed and was talking to Sylvain as he found his own clothes. He left some of his cavalier armor in her room. “What the fuck do you think happened?” Wren asked. She was still surly from being woken up.

“No idea, but it seems bad. Let’s hurry.”

So they did, Mercedes and Lysithea catching up to them. Both girls looked worried.

“Do you two know what’s going on?” Wren asked, trying to keep her head steady. She was still dizzy.

“Not really,” Lysithea admitted.

“I just hope no one’s hurt,” Mercedes replied. “This really seems bad. And the day after the ball too!”

“Yeah, that’s pretty shitty of whoever caused this,” Sylvain agreed. “We’re all hungover.”

Mercedes giggled and Lysithea groaned. She had inhaled some sparkling wine last night and regretted it, although admittedly she wasn’t as hungover as Wren.

Annette had caught up to them. “Uhh, you might be, but I stayed perfectly sober!” Annette chided.

“Proud of you, Annie,” Sylvain joked.

The foursome made their way to the chapel, noticing how students not involved in this mission looked terrified.

“Jeez, something must have happened. Everyone looks so scared,” Wren noted as they pushed past students. 

And then they caught up with the rest of the class and much to their horror, they saw it. Or rather, them.

Demonic beasts.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Wren said rather loudly. “These assholes really couldn’t wait, huh?” Sparks of fire crackled around Wren’s fingers. “I’m going to incinerate them.”

“Wren, please, stay calm,” Byleth chided. “Everyone, it seems demonic beasts have emerged from this chapel. Yes, emerged .”she specified for the students who looked bewildered. “We don’t know how they’ve come from the chapel, but…”

“...they might be students themselves. Everyone, this is going to be a tough battle,” Jeralt interjected. “Stay on your guard. We might see some ugly things today.”

The students had been seeing ugly things. This wasn’t their first go with demonic beasts, but it was the first time against beasts that might have originally been students. That thought…was revolting.

“Goddess, if I had known this was what I’d wake up to, I wouldn’t have drank so much last night,” Wren muttered. Sylvain nervously chuckled at the statement.

Byleth divided everyone into groups to target the demonic beasts in each area. Wren was with Sylvain (naturally), as well as Petra and Dorothea, who had just learned some white magic. They would be attacking the beast to the west. Byleth and Edelgard, as well as Hubert, would be attacking the beast straight ahead. Ferdinand would lead Lysithea, Linhardt, Caspar, and Bernadetta to the one at the east. Other students were dispersed among the groups as well, and with everyone’s orders clear, they went forth.

Wren was not kidding when she said she’d incinerate them. Her first attack landed a critical hit, followed up by another from Petra. Sylvain led his battalion to charge and Dorothea hit from afar with a powerful Thoron spell.

The beast went down relatively quickly and much to their horror, it shrank back into a student. Wren almost vomited in her mouth. Petra just nodded solemnly, Dorothea yelped, but Sylvain stayed quiet. It reminded him too much of his brother. So they proceeded towards the next beast, knowing Jeralt was right. This would not be an easy battle. It seemed their classmates had discovered the same things as various cries of disbelief and disgust were heard across the chapel.

“Goddess, this is horrific,” Wren said as she and Sylvain tag teamed and took down the last one. Their classmates were finishing up their own battles.

While the battle itself was fairly easy, and very short, it was possibly the hardest emotionally. Nothing about this was right. 

What was going on at Garreg Mach? What was the enemy after? Why would they have students involved? It was almost like Remire all over again.

Something was afoot.

Byleth rallied up her students and directed them to head back to the academy to heal up and clean up. She and her father would make notes and report back to Rhea ASAP.

And so they did, minimal talk being had. Some students tried to distract others with talk of the weather, but it was mostly silence on the way back. Whispers consisting of ‘what the fuck was that’ to ‘what if we’re next’ were heard. Wren and Sylvain just shared a look and continued their own trek.

What seemed like hours later, they finally saw their professor return. Ferdinand gathered the Black Eagles around her room when they all realized she hadn’t come back as promptly as they thought she would. He couldn’t find Edelgard and Hubert though.

Professor Byleth looked awful. None of the students had ever seen such a look on her face before. The easiest description was heartbreak. Despair. Something happened.

It was not lost on them that Jeralt wasn’t with her.

“Professor…?” Ferdinand asked. “Is something the matter?”

She couldn’t speak. “I… My father…” And then she was crying.

It was odd that Edelgard and Hubert weren’t around. Wouldn’t it make sense for the House Leader and her advisor to be here with their teacher? This wasn’t something any of the other students were prepared for.

“You’re…dismissed. Please, find something to do.” It wasn’t like her to be so dismissive, but something happened. Clearly.

“Professor, we’re here for you,” Dorothea said quietly. “Don’t forget that.”

Everyone dispersed. The professor wanted to be alone, and they could grant her that much.

Chapter 23: And So It Begins...

Summary:

The war begins. Sylvain and Wren flee for Enbarr. There's an obstacle in the way.

Notes:

What it do everyone, I am back at it with this fic. Three Houses may be passé what with Engage being out and Three Hopes retconning/making alternate canon, but I still miss the classic Crimson Flower story so I'm here to write it.

Life has changed a lot since I last posted a chapter for this fic but I hope whoever is still subscribed enjoys this update. It's a little short but I gotta get back on the horse. It probably helps I have a new laptop that actually functions. Here's to posting more content!

It felt like weeks had gone by. Maybe they had. All Wren and Sylvain knew was that the professor was almost entirely out of commission. It felt like she never left her room, and when she did, she just looked so sad. It was heart-wrenching. Byleth was so stoic normally; to see utter despair on her face was…uncomfortable.

And then the day came when their enemies were found and Byleth would enact vengeance. It was no comfort seeing Solas again, and an even worse feeling when he seemed to zap Byleth into nothingness, but then she cut her way back into this realm, slayed him, all with a new hair color.

Something really was wrong. Wren’s sense for incoming danger was singing very loudly in her ears, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop whatever was to happen.

And happen it did.

Edelgard was the Flame Emperor all along. And once everything clicked, when Wren realized that the Church was indeed sinister and plotting an agenda and consecrating students into its propaganda, its dogma, its lies, she knew who to side with. Without blinking she sided with Edelgard.

And every other Black Eagle did too.

Chaos ensued. Rhea was a dragon this entire time. Anyone who wasn’t on the side of the Church of Seiros fled for their lives. The Black Eagles had to split up; their rather large class was certainly an easy target.

Some students though…stayed behind. Annette claimed she needed to see her mother, try to talk sense into her father. She needed to understand. Mercedes understood but took off after Edelgard, whom she knew was harboring her brother, Jeritza. Emile, as she called him.

Sylvain followed Wren closely. He was basically committing treason against the Faerghus crown for doing so, basically threw away his birthright, but if by doing so and fighting the system, for a chance at freedom from the Crests and nobility and all of that bullshit… Sylvain would choose it a hundred times over.

So in smaller groups, the students fled. Byleth had been lost, a true shame, but preparations for war had to be made regardless. Having the professor would have been a boon for Edelgard, but she’d have to improvise for now. Hubert wouldn’t like that, he loved being over-prepared, but this was the hand they were dealt. And it would have to do.

Wren and Sylvain split off into their own pairing, heading to a town just pass Garreg Mach where they could rest before making the big trek to Enbarr. All their classmates and anyone choosing to fight with Edelgard would be there.

But nothing is ever simple and who was blocking their way? Felix. The other Blue Lions were nowhere in sight, but that was typical of Felix; he was a lone wolf after all.

“Felix, let us pass,” Sylvain warned, reaching for his lance. He didn’t want to fight his friend, but he would rather fight him than let Wren do so. She and Felix would fight to the death and that was the last thing he wanted. As much as he disliked Felix currently, he couldn’t help but wish his friend would be his friend again.

But it was not to be so. Felix drew his sword and charged. Sylvain parried, but Wren, always ready for a fight, charged Felix, and the two began a duel, clashing swords and swearing at each other.

“Goddess, look what you and the Black Eagles have done!” yelled Felix, trying to find an opening, but Wren had gotten better at defense. “Always having to start shit. We were all supposed to graduate in two moons’ time!”

“Yeah, well, Edelgard had other plans,” returned Wren, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Felix’s onslaught was quite taxing. “And what’s it matter anyway? The Crest system has fucked you and all your friends over. You should want us to succeed.”

“I don’t care about any of it!” Felix roared. “Dimitri will become king. Ingrid will be married off. I’m going to end up as some useless duke and your boyfriend here,” Felix said it with a sneer, as if Sylvain wasn’t anything important, “will take over his territory and keep peace at the border.”

“Yeah? You really want your life to be that way?” Wren asked, dodging a strike. “You can forge your own destiny, Felix, just like a blacksmith forges a sword. It’s not too late.”

“It’s always too late,” Felix said so quietly Wren nearly missed it. And then, as if he stole one of her moves, he changed his trajectory with a strike, and slashed her side. Wren screamed in pain and collapsed.

“It’s especially too late for you,” and Felix was about to stab Wren when Sylvain jumped in and disarmed Felix.

“Fuck off, Sylvain!” Felix took a defensive stance and held his fists up like a brawler.

“Felix, let us pass,” Sylvain warned. “I’m not going to let you kill Wren.”

Felix scoffed, spitting. “You really are something, Sylvain. Choosing a girl over your own friends. People you’ve known your whole life.”

“People who have done nothing but insult and demean me for years, to the point I really saw myself as nothing. Wren changed my perspective. And I’m not about to let her go.” Sylvain prepared himself for a charge when Wren screamed.

Sylvain turned, immediately concerned. Felix took this as an opportunity to grab his sword, but as his back turned Wren managed to shoot off a Fire spell and hit him square in the back. Felix swore, and decided to retreat. He could hear soldiers coming. Whether they were from the Empire or from the Church, he did not know, so he fled.

But Sylvain could only hear Wren’s cries as he dashed to her and looked at her wound. It had turned a violent shade of purple and that’s when Sylvain realized Felix wielded a Venomsword. The wound oozed and Wren tried to weakly apply her own healing spell but it didn’t close the wound much. The poison leaking from her wound seemed to repel the spell and only burned more skin away.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Sylvain muttered, digging through a supply pack on his horse. He managed to find an anti-venom.

He applied it liberally and watched as the wound closed itself, dispelling the poison. Wren was still breathing heavily, but she wasn’t crying anymore.

“Where the fuck did he get a Venomsword?” she gasped. “You don’t see them often, and they’re not commonly forged.”

“I don’t know, but we need to move fast. He fled. I think there are some soldiers coming through.” Sylvain hefted her onto his horse, mounting it when she found a comfortable seat. He whipped the reins and galloped as far from the scene as possible.

They managed to make it to the next town, finding an inn that would hopefully have some vacancy. It didn’t seem the trouble at the monastery had reached them yet.

Wren stopped Sylvain. “Maybe we shouldn’t rest. We should keep going.”

“You’re exhausted and just recovered from a severe wound. We should definitely rest.”

Wren bit her lip. “What if they see that we’re students and won’t let us take a room? Especially since we’re… a boy and a girl.”

Sylvain stared at her incredulously. “Wren, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You never know! Propriety and all that! It’s stupid but it might be an issue.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Just stay by the horse. I’ll refer to you as a comrade and see if they have a room with two beds, if it makes you feel any better.” Sylvain looked at her closely. “Try to pull your hair up like Felix would. You know. Give yourself a masculine ponytail.”

Wren snorted. “A masculine ponytail? Goddess, that’s some phrasing.”

“Well, you know what I mean. Maybe slouch a little to hide your, uh, chest…” Wren wasn’t as endowed as say, Dorothea or Mercedes, but her chest was fairly prominent.

“Hmm… She looked at the ground. The dirt on the path was fairly dusty. She had an idea. She scooped some of it up and patted her face. Sylvain stared at her in horror.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“I’m giving myself a beard. You know, stubble or whatever. Gotta make myself look more masculine, right?” She felt disgusting for doing it, but a disguise was a disguise.

“You… I am not kissing you until you clean that shit off tonight.”

“Of course, babe. Wouldn’t dare dirty your divine lips,” she said with a wink.

Sylvain just sighed and walked into the inn, where he paid for a room and hurried Wren in as one of the innkeepers led the horse to a stable.

No one seemed to take notice that Wren was indeed a woman. Perhaps she disguised herself well after all. It probably helped she was in her mercenary getup.

There was commotion throughout the afternoon as soldiers ran through the town, interrogating shopkeepers and citizens if any students from Garreg Mach were there. Most were confused by the questioning until they were told war was breaking out.

But everyone interrogated stated they hadn’t seen anyone in the Officer’s Academy uniform so no, there weren’t any students there. Sylvain was glad he and Wren had changed into their battle attire as soon as the pandemonium broke out. Perhaps they were safe.

Wren did eventually wash the dirt off her face and gave Sylvain a very deep kiss that led to passionate lovemaking. They could die any day now; might as well fuck as often as they could. It could be the last.

Chapter 24: Arrival in Annevar

Summary:

Sylvain and Wren arrive in Annevar and have an uncomfortable meeting with her parents.

Notes:

Inconsistent posting here I am! We're approaching that time of year where I work two jobs and I need some sort of outlet for that stress.

Sylvain and Wren made it to Enbarr, mostly unscathed. The Venomsword Felix had used on Wren left a scar, but at least she was alive.

Edelgard gathered her most trusted generals, which were mostly her classmates, and assigned them different roles and tasks to accomplish. While Hubert would of course be her most trusted vassal and be in charge of any undercover espionage, Petra and Dorothea would be her two guards.

As for the others, Caspar would train under his father, Linhardt would learn the ways of his father’s work, and Bernadetta… would be forced to hang around Hubert to learn covert missions. It seemed best when it came to her nerves.

Ferdinand was not happy with the war, but he understood the cause and above all, Ferdinand wanted justice. A noble who did not act like a noble was not worthy of being a noble.

As for the friends that weren’t originally Black Eagles, save for Wren, they were each assigned to protect their own territories and rally troops. Except in the case of Mercedes and Marianne. Mercedes had no territory and resided in Fhirdiad for a good portion of her life, and Marianne was afraid of her father’s wrath (should he have any) and chose to stay in Enbarr to train as a battle mage.

As for Wren and Sylvain, they were to go back to Annevar to protect the ports from possible sea attacks. Unlikely, as Faerghus had no presence in the southern seas, but who knew which nation sided with the kingdom. Some places had a low price to turn traitor.

Even though it wasn’t really the time, Wren figured this was an opportunity to also formally introduce Sylvain to her folks as her boyfriend. With war, times would change, and having a relationship that might not turn into marriage wouldn’t be uncommon. It was too soon and too risky to be married, and to both, it was a huge commitment. Better to ride out the war together and then get married rather than jump the sword and have heartbreak. War was unpredictable and even though they loved each other, they knew the risks. They might not see it to the end.

Wren was cautious about going home, but Sylvain was very interested. He assuaged her fears as best he could, and once ready, they set out together, heading to Deep South Adrestia.

The ride was rough, and the further south they went, the hotter it got. Unsurprising of course, but Sylvain was starting to become uncomfortable. Wren noticed how he was starting to unfasten his shirt collar, or loosen his sleeves around his wrists.

“You good, love?” she asked. They were riding separate horses.

“Yeah, it’s just so goddess forsaken hot!” With his floundering, his horse was starting to get flustered.

“Just calm down, we’re almost there actually.”

Down the path they went, the scenery becoming more and more rustic. They eventually entered a town that certainly had a southern aesthetic, houses made of light wood, foundations made of stone. Cobblestones led every way to shops, restaurants, and other places. Wren directed Sylvain past the main part of the town, and taking a northeastern direction, led him towards what was definitely a noble’s area.

The houses were manors, large and imposing, but also classic and homey. It was a weird sort of dichotomy of aesthetics, but Sylvain liked them. They had charm; Faerghus homes did not.

And the last house down this path was the largest, and it became clearer and clearer that it was Wren’s home. It was stunning and large, and Sylvain saw pastures and stables. An archway of flowers led them onto the property. The scent of honeysuckle and hydrangeas wafted around him and he felt a sense of calm. The place was ethereal and magical.

Considering the Crest of Macuil was ideally a magical Crest, it only made sense.

At the top of the stairs that led into the what Sylvain could only call a chateau, were Wren’s parents. They had beaming smiles on their faces. It was a stark contrast to their first meeting.

Sylvain hadn’t noticed it last time, but Wren was the spitting image of her mother. It was a little eerie to be honest. She must have inherited her father’s eyes though: the crimson was quite striking. Both parents had cerulean hair much like their eldest daughter.

Standing in the middle of them was a young girl. She looked nothing like either parent. Sylvain knew this had to be the infamous little sister that stole Wren’s place. Her hair and eyes were inverted; striking red curls offset large cornflower eyes. She was cute, but very young. Sylvain then remembered she was a decade younger than Wren.

Wren cleared her throat as they approached, dismounting the horse. “Hello, family.”

“Welcome home, Wren. It seems you brought your potential fiancé with you.”

Wren bit her lip. “About that…”

Her father took a stern look. “Don’t tell me you two have been living improperly.”

She knew the conversation was going to go badly anyway; might as well hash it out now. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend. Surprise!”

Her mother just shook her head, hiding her face behind her palm.

“Anyway, with that out of the way, Sylvain you’ve met both my parents. It’s time you met my sister. This is Mavis Bianca Aleo.”

“Hi.” The sister said plainly. Her manners were lacking.

Then again, when you’re handed everything, you don’t need to be polite. Sylvain knew that pretty well. He was sure this girl was great at schmoozing, just like he was.

He was starting to see why Wren was so bitter. In that single introduction, he decided he didn’t much care for the younger sister.

The parents looked sternly at Wren, as if she were a disappointment. Sylvain completely understood Wren’s plight now. Her parents truly did forsake her. No wonder she acted out. Acts out. Sylvain loved his little rebel.

Her parents led the two into the chateau. As they were led to what would be their quarters, Duke Aleo droned on about the war.

“I understand the new emperor’s reasoning, but is war truly needed? Needless to say, we will protect Annevar fiercely, but I would much rather avoid this conflict altogether.”

Duchess Aleo agreed. “Yes, and with the Crest system being potentially dismantled, it will truly change the paradigm of our world. Little Mavis may not have the power we promised.”

Sylvain saw that Wren was seething. That power was supposed to be hers.

“Um, but wouldn’t that just put Wren back in the line of succession? Considering Crests no longer matter in this future world, the elder sibling that was groomed for the role first should rightly have it back, correct?”

The parents turned to Sylvain and stared at him as if he said a series of swears.

“And why,” Duke Aleo said, “would we do that? Our improper daughter that has only brought shame to our name?”

“Shame that only occurred when you ousted me out of the inheritance,” Wren said through gritted teeth. “If you’re going to cast me out, then as an outcast I will act.”

“How poetic, Wren. You did always have a way with words,” her mother said snippily. “Don’t forget who saved your life when you shamed us the most deeply.”

“Of course not, Mother. The scar on my arm is a stark reminder.” Wren’s normal joie de vivre was gone and replaced with a bitterness Sylvain did not care for.

Sylvain was starting to see why his brother had treated him so cruelly for years. It was unfair to Sylvain, but it was also unfair to Miklan. Had the Crest system not existed, perhaps Miklan and Sylvain would have had a functional relationship as brothers.

No use in wondering what would never be. The only thing Sylvain could do was support his girlfriend experiencing the same thing.

Sylvain’s hand found the small of Wren’s back and he squeezed her gently. Wren sighed. His presence was a great comfort.

“Well, this is where you will stay, Sylvain,” Duke Aleo said. “Wren, you know where your room is.”

“Yeah, on the opposite side of the house.” Wren rolled her eyes. “You do realize I’m just going to sneak out of my own room right? This propriety bullshit is worthless in a time of war.”

“Watch your mouth, Wren. Your insolence is still aggravating.”

Sylvain was becoming increasingly frustrated with this family. The sister continued to keep to herself, but the parents were maddening. Their judgment of their eldest daughter was so unnecessary.

Time to schmooze. “At the academy, Wren and I did indeed share a room. Perhaps it was against the rules, however, our performance in class was exemplary whereas before, we had floundered in some areas. I believe it would be in our favor for us to at least have nearby quarters so we could easily collaborate on strategy, as we are the generals Emperor Edelgard assigned to this territory.”

“That’s Sylvain’s way of saying we promise not to fuck,” Wren deadpanned.

“WREN.” Her mother reprimanded, aghast. “Ugh, fine. Wren, stay in any of these rooms. Bring whatever belongings you want. It’s all untouched in your room.”

“As it should be,” Wren muttered. “Alright family, Sylvain and I need to decompress from this arduous journey and discuss strategy. We’ll see you at dinner.”

The family paused, not enjoying whatever Wren was implying, but they all shuffled off, intent on doing whatever they normally do on a hot afternoon.

“Alright, babe, so about that decompressing…”

Wren rushed Sylvain into his room, shut the door with her foot, and dragged him onto the bed. “I’m gonna ride you so hard in my own house. Fuck what my family thinks. This is a new world.”

“Ah, Wren-” but he was silenced by her lips as she began stripping him. He made quick work of her clothes too and soon, naked body was pressed against naked body, and Sylvain found himself on his back as his girlfriend perched above him.

“Wren, wait, we need a condom-”

“We didn’t use one at the inn, you pulled out, it’s fine, I have those herbs,” Wren interjected, rushing her words.

“Okay,” Sylvain agreed, and he let himself lay there as Wren began to take in his cock and bounce rigorously.

He loved it when she was rough. So much passion. He began to rub her clit and she squealed.

“Fuck babe, it feels so good,” she moaned. She wasn’t bothering with lowering her voice.

“And you’re as tight as ever! You have a perfect pussy!”

She laughed, which caused her to clench around him inadvertently and Sylvain yelled. “Yeah like that baby! Squeeze my dick with your pussy!” He started thrusting up, hitting even deeper than she could on her own.

“Oh Sylvain, like that! Like that please!”

He kept thrusting up and she kept riding and after much frantic movement chasing for orgasm, they reached their respective peaks.

Sylvain pulled out right before he came, and it shot up like a fountain, splattering on her thighs. Wren collapsed to the side, a sweaty, horny mess.

“I wanna go again,” she whined.

“Really? I want to nap.”

“Sylvain, please…” she begged. “That was so good. Make me come again.”

Sylvain considered it. “How about...nap first, then sex?”

“Alright…” She snuggled up to him without any hesitation.

“Shouldn’t you clean that up?” He gestured to her thighs.

She sighed. “Yes.” She quickly got up and used the attached bathroom.

By the time Wren returned, Sylvain had fallen asleep. She smiled. She loved him so dearly, and despite the scary times they were in, she was thankful they were facing them together.

Chapter 25: Separation Anxiety

Summary:

Reunions are so sweet.

Notes:

Zoo wee mama it has been a long time. Working full time, going back to school, picking up my seasonal job... I have been busy! I am also depressed so it's time for my escape fantasy to take over! I may actually finish this story!

The worst thing about a war was that good things pre-war have to come to an end. Edelgard needed generals assigned to different locations as casualties started to mount, and it was strategic and advantageous to use people who were already familiar with the territories needed.

Which meant that Sylvain and Wren had to be separated.

Sylvain was from Faerghus, specifically his territory named after his surname, Gautier. It only made sense to send him with a platoon up north to keep a stronghold on the border. Wren was not happy with this. Edelgard had assigned her to stay south, to protect Annevar as imports and exports could not afford to be affected.

This royally sucked in Wren’s opinion. What if Sylvain was killed? What if she was killed? To die without him by her side, or vice versa, was the worst of things to happen. But she could not deny her emperor. If Edelgard found it the best course of action, she would obey.

There was a final embrace, a deep kiss, and then Sylvain rode away. Annette had joined him. Mercedes stayed with Wren. Edelgard wanted to keep magic users with each general as their white magic and black magic abilities would be incredibly useful.

Wren wanted to sulk. She wanted to waste away. But she sighed and did her daily duties, ensuring the soldiers she was in charge of stayed in line, everyone was fed, civilians were safe, and imports coming in promptly. It was mostly boring work, but Mercedes kept her entertained.

“It will be over soon, and then we can all have a big feast and celebrate the victory!” Mercedes said with blissful optimism. Wren wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t like they, the Adrestian Empire, were doing badly, but she doubted it would be over soon.

And she was right. A year passed and there was no end in sight. Their beloved professor was also still missing. Casualty on either side was high, but Edelgard would not yield. Dimitri at this point had ascended the throne and he was proven to be an absolute monster on the battlefield. Wren vaguely remembered Sylvain telling her a story of how Felix called Dimitri a beast all the time. She finally understood why.

Not that she cared about Felix. He was Dimitri’s “shield” as it were, using his family’s Relic to decimate enemy soldiers. Sylvain had written that he and Felix had clashed a time or two, but neither one was injured seriously. But he knew the day was coming where one, or both, would see their end.

Wren did not like that train of thought. A world without Sylvain was not a world worth living in, victory or not. She didn’t give a shit about the end result anymore; she only wanted to be with her boyfriend.

When the war was over, whenever that would be, she would propose to Sylvain. Fuck tradition. A woman can propose to a man. After all, wasn’t the point of the war to end silly and trivial traditions? To take down the system that kept so many down? Wren was ready for it.

And with that, a new vigor for war entered her. She would reunite with Sylvain, whenever that would be, and she would never leave his side again.

~*~

Another four years had passed. The Millennium Festival, or whatever the fuck it was called, was supposed to happen. But no one expected war, so really no one cared. It was an afterthought.

But, for whatever reason, Edelgard wanted to go to the academy. She wanted to go to Garreg Mach. She relayed this to Wren, and Wren shrugged it off initially. It was when Edelgard left anyway that Wren knew she had to follow.

With Mercedes in tow, they did just that.

The ride wasn’t terrible, but it certainly seemed to take its time. And when Wren arrived, she saw something she didn’t think she’d ever see.

The professor was alive. And fighting for her life.

Bandits had been pilfering the monastery. This was not news. But seeing so many of them beset the professor enraged Wren. She and Mercedes nodded to each other, and off they went, blasting enemies with magic, or slashing with swords.

And, when the worst of the carnage was over, as the professor took on the leader, shrouded in the morning sun’s rise, was Sylvain. He was dapper on a horse, disheveled from the fighting, but Wren could not take her eyes off him. The widest of smiles erupted on her face and she dashed towards him.

Sylvain squinted at the figure approaching him and realized it was her, bad vision be damned, and he could not be more elated. He practically flew off his horse and ran to her, scooping her up in his arms strengthened by war. Happy tears welled at his eyelids but he kept his composure as best he could. Wren openly wept with joy.

She looked so different, hair swept in a unique hairstyle that reminded him of a giant bow, bangs combed into an elegant curl, arms rippling with new muscle. Her tunic lacked sleeves but her forearms were covered in armored gauntlets. She had on a capelet, breeches, and knee high boots. A Killing Edge sword was hilted on her side. She had nary a scar on her body, at least none he could see, and looked as pristine as ever. The light of his life stayed bright, even after all these years.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered into her hair. “So damn much. I can’t believe you’re in my arms again.”

“We will never part again,” Wren said with conviction. “This half decade without you by my side has been tortuous.” She did not want to say she thought about ending her life a few times with how sad and hopeless she felt sometimes. He did not need to know that.

He kept his arms tight around her. “Never again,” he repeated.

With the leader now dispatched, everyone, old classmates from their house, came together. It was incredible that after all this time, so many of their classmates, closest friends even, had made it this far.

If the core group survived this long, then maybe victory was really in sight. Because nothing had bested the Black Eagle house, and with Garreg Mach becoming the new base, their incredible teamwork would take them even farther. Edelgard’s goal really was actually attainable.

Whatever happened, Wren knew that Sylvain would be by her side. She would go through the depths of the forbidden flames to keep him safe. And she knew he felt the same.

Chapter 26: Approaching the Alliance

Summary:

The Black Eagle Strike Force heads towards the alliance. Familiar faces are seen.

Notes:

Hello, I'm back for now. Life is hectic, but after resurrecting my old laptop (hello new SSD, goodbye mechanical hard drive), I feel inspired to write again. It just feels better lmao I like the keyboard better.

Please comment, I really miss this fandom.

Everything seemed better now that the professor was back. Byleth was a welcome addition to the imperial army, or rather, the Black Eagle Strike Force. It felt like things were finally under control, that the unification of Fódlan would finally happen.

But none of that mattered to Wren and Sylvain in this moment, as they indulged in each other’s bodies, celebrating their own “unification.”

They shared Wren’s old room, after clearing out what damage and debris the bandits left behind. The bed was surprisingly fine but even if it wasn’t, they would still have fucked each other stupid on it.

It was utter bliss feeling his touch again.

Wren had felt a lot of loneliness over the past five years. While Mercedes was a wonderful companion, Wren ultimately missed “her man.” She missed staying up all night and talking about life. It became nothing but patrols and orders and wondering when the war would end. If it would end.

But now things were moving. With the professor on their side, battles were being won easily. Strategy was efficient. The Black Eagle Strike Force was making moves and perhaps there was an end in sight.

The next battle they were to take over Derdriu to disrupt the Alliance and have Claude retreat. Their neutrality was proving to be a giant annoyance as it wasn’t helping either side while also managing to harm both sides. So, by taking the capital of the Leicester Alliance, Derdriu, Edelgard would be able to swat the fly away.

But in order to reach Derdriu, the BESF had to cross the Bridge of Myridin, which expanded across the Airimid River.

This would not be an easy task, as the area was protected and overseen by Judith, known for her ferocity in battle. The area was thick with archers, cavaliers, paladins, and brawlers. With a strong, powerful team, it was certainly possible, but it was still somewhat of an annoyance.

Such is life in war. Edelgard assembled a team and they marched for the Bridge of Myridin.

As they approached, they noticed sentries watching for any would-be aggressors. Edelgard didn’t intend for a surprise attack, because it would be difficult on a bridge, but being seen so early was frustrating in any case. They hustled, hoping to get in the first hit at least. 

It was a good strategy, as they managed to outpace the archers. No casualties by bow and arrow yet. Good.

As Edelgard led the charge, taking down paladins left and right, Byleth was next to her, wielding the Sword of the Creator devastatingly. Hubert was not too far off, using Dark Spikes on every horse riding enemy he could. Linhardt stayed back to heal, Caspar protecting him, and Petra and Dorothea went over to the side of the bridge where a treasure chest was laying. In this way, they could also inflict a pincer attack.

Wren and Sylvain, partners in everything in life, felled enemy after enemy, not letting a single one past them.

In the distance though, Wren saw a familiar face. She gulped. It was Ignatz, her friend she often painted with during their school days.

Edelgard and Byleth discussed this in the war meetings. Should the BESF encounter former classmates, there certainly was an option to potentially recruit them, but to also not let down one’s guard. Wren prayed Ignatz could be won over.

Edelgard had gotten surrounded by paladins and brawlers and the professor went to assist her. Wren took this as an opportunity to approach Ignatz, to beg him to switch sides. She did not want her friend to die.

Wren and Ignatz locked eyes. Sylvain stayed at Wren’s side, knowing what she was going to do. She had a kind heart, even though she could be fierce. 

“Ignatz,” Wren said as she approached cautiously. It was like none of the other enemies saw them. It was eerie.

“Wren, I know what you want to say, but I need to stay with the Alliance. It’s my home.” He had his bow raised, but it wasn’t pointed at her. He was just readying his stance in case she charged.

Wren kept a tight grip on her sword and nodded. “I understand, but the current status quo doesn’t support you. It doesn’t have your best interest. We want to save everyone, let the Crest system die so we can all succeed by our own merits. You don’t have a Crest, Ignatz. Surely you see how being on our side will help you.”

He gulped. “Be that as it may, I can’t side with someone who started such a bloody conflict. I believe in Claude.”

“Claude is just staying neutral, Ignatz! He’s pussyfooting around!” Wren growled. Now she was losing patience.

“It keeps us safe.” Ignatz insisted.

Wren rolled her eyes. This wasn’t going to end well. “It’s going to get you killed.”

He clutched his bow. “It’s okay. I’m prepared. I’ve gotten a lot better.”

“You don’t sound too sure of that, buddy,” Sylvain interrupted. “We’re giving you a chance of surrender to save your own skin. The battle is in our favor.” He gestured to Edelgard and Byleth approaching Judith. She was alone, her battalion defeated.

Ignatz paused as he watched Edelgard strike Judith down. He sighed. He threw down his bow and raised his hands in surrender.

“Good choice,” Wren said with a smile. She waved over Byleth. “We have a new Black Eagle Strike Force member.”

Byleth approached. She knew Ignatz was not likely to turn or be a spy. He was too honest of a person. “Welcome to the team.”

Hubert approached, seeing they had just recruited Ignatz. “You were not the only Golden Deer today.” He turned to Edelgard, who was also approaching. “Leonie Pinelli was in this battle. Petra and Dorothea dispatched her.”

Ignatz grimaced. He had liked Leonie a lot. “May she rest in peace,” he said quietly.

Everyone assessed their wounds, casualties, mourned, and celebrated. The path to Derdriu was that much closer.

*~*

The march to Derdriu was not nearly as harsh, and it seemed like it happened in an instant. They all camped one night and the next day, they were there. 

Closing in, the sight of the city really was spectacular. Had it not been war time, Wren would have liked to have explored, checking out the shops, the bistros, and enjoying the gondola rides along the canals. It seemed oddly peaceful for a city that was about to be swarmed with soldiers.

Edelgard said the ultimate goal was not to slay Claude. She did not feel his death was necessary. “If it comes to it, do what you must, but I would like to at least have him surrender, if he chooses not to join our side.”

“It’s not likely, huh?” Wren stated. 

“Not at all, but I have no ill will towards him. I simply want him to stop his little neutrality game.”

And with that, battalions assigned and formations created, they set out for the city.

This was a tricky battle as there were reinforcements from outside the city bounds, Wyvern Riders and Lords hoping to swoop in and catch one of the BESF members off guard. Bernadetta kept an eye on them with her bow, felling each one with a beautiful critical hit. Claude was at the pier, formulating his strategy.

Hilda was there, swinging her axe. She took out some of the Imperial forces, but Caspar, with surprising speed, took her down, punching her in the stomach where the claws of the gauntlets made a bloody mess of her guts. She collapsed in a messy heap, breath leaving her body.

“I-I’m sorry… Claude…” she whispered, and then she was gone, blood pooling around her.

Lysithea had also appeared, and she and Hubert dueled, hurling spell after spell, from Miasma to Dark Spikes to Hades. Hubert had won, though not without sustaining a hideous injury to his face. Lysithea lied on the ground, barely breathing.

“I still have so much to do,” she said with a whimper in her voice. “I can’t die yet.”

“Then join us, and you will live out your ambitions,” Hubert said as he applied a vulnerary to his face. He always respected Lysithea.

Lysithea considered it. “Fine.” 

Hubert helped her up, and directed her to Linhardt, hard at work healing. 

Claude may have had strategy, but Edelgard had brute force. One cannot strategize if one dies before enacting said strategy. At a steady pace she was approaching him, killing soldier after soldier. She was an unstoppable force.

Wren and Sylvain had perfect teamwork, working off each other’s moves, a never-ending dance of death. One by one soldiers fell, as other members of their force pushed through. Nader was leading the Wyvern Lords, and Shamir, whom they found on the road, took him out with a beautiful shot from her bow.

Before long, Byleth and Edelgard pursued Claude. He was trapped, water to his back. 

With the Sword of the Creator, Byleth slashed Claude’s bow out of his hands. He had no choice but to surrender, lest he also wanted to meet his end. But Claude was no fool and did so, raising his hands, signaling surrender.

The talk was brief, but Claude chose exile and saw himself out. The Alliance was officially out of the war, being absorbed into the Empire.

With that, celebrations were had. The army hit up restaurants, bars, taverns, enjoying the scenery of Derdriu. 

Wren and Sylvain were walking hand in hand towards another tavern (they were kicked out of the first one for being obscene) when they came across a couple in the midst of a drunken quarrel. 

“Come back here, Lettie!” the man had said. “You’re my fucking girlfriend!”

Whoever this Lettie was, she was moved by his drunken cry. “And you’re my fucking boyfriend!” The two embraced and gave very wet kisses to each other before finding an alleyway.

Wren and Sylvain paused but then laughed. “Hey Wren, you’re my fucking girlfriend.” He tightened his arm around her waist.

“And you’re my fucking boyfriend, Sylvain!” Wren returned, leaning into his touch. 

They laughed again and then skipped into the tavern, love lightening their steps.

Chapter 27: Blade of Grass

Summary:

Battle after battle is fought, the end seemingly near. Confessions are had, betrayals known. Wren and Sylvain embrace it all.

Notes:

Good evening everyone! The war will soon be over. Maybe. In any case, I did take some liberty with how the fights happen here vs in-game (for drama purposes.) Otherwise, this follows the game fairly closely. But it was a lot of fun to write regardless. I was actually able to utilize my outline I had written over five years ago. That felt good honestly.

Title of chapter references the Lady Gaga song. Listen to it. It's very Wren and Sylvain.

Read! Comment! Kudos! Thanks again!

The BESF returned to Garreg Mach to recoup and restrategize. But rumors of the Church of Seiros and the Kingdom beset Edelgard, and a defense strategy was determined.

And then one morning, a messenger ran to Edelgard with news that the Kingdom's army as well as the Church's was approaching Garreg Mach, and Edelgard rallied her troops and set her defensive strategy in place.

Leading the main army was none other than Seteth. To the west, Flayn had entered, bringing a small force with her. Edelgard had a vague understanding that they may have shared dragon blood with Rhea, so they would not be easy opponents to topple.

Byleth had no problem leading her troop of Caspar, Linhardt, Ferdinand, and Bernadetta to the main force. Dorothea and Petra kept to the forested areas, taking down would-be assassins. Hubert and Jeritza approached the west to take on Flayn.

And Wren and Sylvain took down stragglers, those trying to sneak past Byleth and her small force. They wouldn’t allow anyone to approach the entrance to Garreg Mach. Edelgard would hold that firmly.

There was smoke in the air. Wonderful. Someone set a small fire, entrapping Petra and Dorothea. But then came Marianne with a vicious Blizzard spell that quelled the flames and the two women escaped. Their quarry not so much. Their bodies perished, burned by the fire they could not control.

Wren heard a shout and saw Jeritza fall off his horse, Hubert defending him as Flayn hurled white magic at them. She and Sylvain looked at each other, nodded, and she jumped onto the back of his horse. He kicked and they galloped off to help their fellow BESF members.

Jeritza was unconscious, or so Wren hoped, and Hubert was bleeding badly. Before Flayn could land the final blow, Wren leaped off Sylvain’s steed and pierced Flayn in the stomach. The girl had no time to react. Coughing up blood, shock in her eyes, she fell face first into the ground, blood pooling around her. She gasped, uttered something like “please flee father” (Wait what?) and then she was gone, home with the goddess or whatever they believed.

There was another shout. Wren and Sylvain saw Seteth fly to them, disbelief and hurt in his eyes. It was like the battle stopped. There was utter silence as they let Seteth take in Flayn’s dead body.

“How could you…?” he said with a choked sob. “How dare you!” He gripped his lance and came at Wren and Sylvain. Sylvain blocked with the Lance of Ruin and the two dueled as Wren hoisted up Hubert, rushing him to Linhardt. That group managed to fend off what was left of Seteth’s troops. Jeritza would be fine hopefully. At least as an unconscious person, he would not draw attention to himself.

Linhardt worked on Hubert’s wounds and Wren turned, knowing she needed to help Jeritza next. She also wanted to help Sylvain.

She ran as fast as her legs would take her, watching as Seteth fought Sylvain on foot. The wyvern he was riding was severely injured, possibly dying. An unfortunate casualty.

Wren didn’t play fair. This was war and she did not give a fuck. Seteth may have once been a comrade in writing, but that part of her life was over. She went to stab Seteth in the back but perhaps Sylvain had a tell, or Seteth heard her footsteps. In any case, he turned around and parried, knocking her to the ground.

And then Byleth was there, unleashing black magic and wielding the Sword of the Creator. Seteth and Byleth dueled, weapons lightning fast. Sylvain helped Wren up. They decided they would ensure Jeritza was okay.

He was. He managed to get himself up. Apparently he had been stunned but he was able to mount his horse and speed off.

Then, quiet once again. Wren looked to see that Byleth had slain Seteth. Heartbreaking. Wren had been so close with the advisor during her academy days. It was awful it had to end this way.

But this was war. The end was inevitable.

~*~

The battle of Garreg Mach had been won, and the BESF carried on to Fhirdiad to meet Dimitri and the others from the kingdom face to face. Here, they would take down a key mage named Cornelia as well as Rodrigue.

They pressed on, adrenaline running high as they saw the end. They were winning. This war was almost done. Maybe two more battles and then F ódlan would be unified.

There they were, at the Silver Maiden at last. A formidable fortress…from the front. Edelgard knew there were entrances on either side that were not as secure, usually used as evacuation points. The main force would attack the front gate but an elite force of just three would enter from the west. It was a good strategy all around.

The elite force that would take the west was Petra, Dorothea, and Lysithea. Lysithea had reclassed as a dancer and proved to be very helpful. Dorothea would smite soldiers with Meteor, and Petra would pierce armored units with a devastating rapier.

Wren and Sylvain were instructed to head east where a chest was. A small force of the kingdom was also there, hoping to sideswipe the Imperial soldiers attacking the center.

In their way was Felix’s father, Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius. Wren did not know the man well, but Sylvain did.

“You’ve really made the wrong choice, Sylvain,” the man said. “I’ve known you since you were a boy. Surrender and I’ll be sure to grant you mercy.”

“Heh, fat chance. We’re winning this war.” And so Wren and Sylvain fought Rodrigue.

He was tough. He used a lot of powerful white magic like Aura and he avoided attacks pretty well. He also hit hard with his own weapons.

Wren was knocked back hard and collapsed. Sylvain turned to her, but she pointed to Rodrigue.

“I’m fine, love. Kill him!”

And Sylvain charged, Rodrigue running out of magic, Wren having knocked his weapons from his hands earlier. Sylvain ran him through with his Lance of Ruin. No time for last words. It was his end.

Petra and Edelgard dispatched Cornelia. Byleth had defeated all her ‘toys.’ The Silver Maiden was won.

After collecting themselves and disposing of bodies, Edelgard went to have her meeting with her uncle, Hubert by her side. Byleth also attended.

Wren and Sylvain sat by a lake not too far off, enjoying the coming night sky. Things were peaceful. They could breathe.

And then there was an earth shattering quake. They looked up to see pillars of light beset the fortress. It was no more.

Was this the kingdom’s doing? Or something more sinister? Was this one of Cornelia’s final traps?

Everyone hustled. It was time to get out of there. There was a rush of words from Edelgard, claiming it was the kingdom after all, but it seemed… too convenient.

Wren did not have time to think it over. It was time to head to Gronder Field. There, the final battle (they hoped) would be held.

~*~

They had made it to Gronder Field. It was a dark, dreary, awful day. Rain drenched the field, thunder and lightning cracked. The ground was slippery and cold. A chill was in the air. Across the way, they could see silhouettes of the Kingdom and the Church armies, seemingly endless. Wren felt dread pool in her stomach.

It was here that she knew they would meet Felix. Dimitri was a given. Maybe Ingrid would be here too, assuming her father didn’t marry her off. (Sylvain had told her of Ingrid’s issues.) Dedue would of course be there, to serve His Majesty.

She wondered briefly about Annette. She didn’t join the Black Eagles when Edelgard made the initial attack on Garreg Mach. Wren prayed she would not be here. Annette was such a dear friend. Mercedes would be heartbroken if she had to fight her friend.

But they were all prepared. Many former classmates were gone. It was…very humbling. Any of them could have died too.

Edelgard let out a war cry and everyone charged, going after the nearest enemies.

Wren and Sylvain stayed close, Mercedes following as their healer. She was very capable of fighting too.

Mercedes let out a cry and Wren and Sylvain stopped to see a falcon knight launch themselves at them.

It was Ingrid. Beautiful and poised on her pegasus, she volleyed herself during her descent to stab Sylvain with Luín, right in the old scar from the amateur jousting incident Sylvain had done as a student. He fell from his horse. Other falcon knights descended on them and Wren and Mercedes had their hands full. Mercedes did use one bow, and she was rather good, and managed to take out two falcon knights. The rest beset Wren, trying to distract her from what was happening to Sylvain. It was annoying because she knew she could kill them, but they were so evasive. Even magic barely did anything. But she persisted.

Back to Sylvain, Ingrid retracted her lance, and prepared to land the final blow.

“You messed up once again, Sylvain. Now, your head is as good as mine.” She turned to him.

“That’s dark even for you, Ingrid,” he joked, coughing up blood. She got him good. How he was even still breathing was a miracle. He closed his eyes, preparing for the end, praying to the goddess to keep Wren safe, mourning the loss of the future he would not see with her. He wanted to propose once the war was done. He loved her so dearly.

Wren turned and saw red. Fury was not the word. It did not cover what she felt. Blood boiling through her veins, her heart beating furiously. Without a second thought, she projected a huge fire spell at Ingrid’s face, scorching the skin. Mercedes ran to her.

“I have the rest! Go after Sylvain!”

Wren dashed towards Ingrid, whose face was bleeding and falling apart. It was quite disgusting to see.

There was a commotion and Sylvain opened his eyes, his head was still there. The sight before him was not one he wanted.

Ingrid was standing before him, but her eyes were wide as the moon, quickly glossing over. The skin on her face was melting off, having been burned by Wren’s Fire. She was gasping, blood spilling down her chin. Her voice was a mere gargle.

The only thing holding her up was Wren’s silver sword, embedded in Ingrid’s back, blade thin and precise enough to fit between her ribs, slashing her lungs and heart. Ingrid had no feeling in her legs. The world was growing dimmer.

Wren cruelly pulled the sword out, blood and other viscera dripping from her blade . Ingrid let out a garbled scream. She whimpered and looked at Sylvain, anger in her face.

“I hate you and what you’ve become.” Her eyes were wide open, the lids having been burned away. She looked like an undead creature.

Sylvain nodded. “And as per usual, Ingrid, you need to mind your business. Good bye.”

He wanted to kick her, make her suffer more. Goddess, was he truly that resentful of her constant butting in to his life? But he just watched her try to reach for her lance, but it was to no avail. Before her fingers could grasp it, life left her body.

Wren and Sylvain paused, looking at the dead woman in front of them. Wren slowly helped Sylvain up, noting that his armor pierced that old scar. She wasn’t sure if even a vulnerary would help with this. The wound was deep.

“I… This is really the end. I knew her since I was a kid. I hit on her grandmother.” Sylvain’s head seemed to be elsewhere.

She entertained it. “You what? ” Wren asked, completely in disbelief.

“She was one of the first. It was just practice. Her grandmother thought it was funny. Ingrid did not.” He managed to stand on his own, not without stumbling.

“She was certainly a spoil sport wasn’t she?” She directed him to his horse, who didn’t wander off during the fight.

Sylvain nodded, then sighed. “One down, two to go.”

“You mean Dimitri and Felix,” Wren deadpanned.

“Yeah… We were a quartet of sorts. But that is behind me.” He grasped her hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Of course.” She hefted him onto the horse. She was about to mount but then Wren saw white. She vaguely heard Sylvain’s voice and she felt herself falling.

She managed to turn and there he was. The thorn in her side. Felix Hugo Fraldarius. He had one mean look on his mug, hands crackling with thunder magic. Wren coughed. She could barely move. That Thoron spell was intense.

She looked to see Sylvain had also been knocked off, the horse now fleeing. Couldn’t blame her. Sylvain tried to get to his feet, the lance in tow.

“Sylvain, don’t you dare-!” Wren cried, but Sylvain attempted to run, which didn’t last long and he fell, face sullied by mud. He couldn’t move. The injury spurted blood.

Felix sneered. “Hah! Look at you, Sylvain. You are so pathetic.” He grabbed Sylvain’s face. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Wren tried to get up, feeling strength slowly come back to her legs. That magic must have temporarily paralyzed her. She gripped her sword in her left hand, trotting towards the two men, feet going faster with each step.

Wren saw Felix punch Sylvain relentlessly. She could see blood gush from his face.

His beautiful face…

Without hesitation, she let out a fire spell, if only to knock Felix back far enough to put distance between him and Sylvain. She had to get him out of here.

Felix, a Mortal Savant, recovered effortlessly. “It was always meant to come to this,” he said, spinning his sword easily, thunder magic crackling in the other.

Wren was also a Mortal Savant and mirrored his stance, sword in left, fire in right. Long ago she would have said, “Goddess, get over yourself,” but she simply nodded and said, “Of course it was.”

He lunged. Their chaotic duel to the death ensued, very much like that school tournament so long ago. They slung spells at each other, only to clash swords. Wren twirled elegantly to avoid his attacks.

But something shifted. Felix no longer focused on defeating her. He tried to subdue her enough so he could get to Sylvain, each attack he made getting him closer to his former friend. Wren was only so strong, defense not her biggest strength, and deflected his moves, realizing she now had to get in the way, if only to pause him from getting to her beloved.

Wren wanted to beg Sylvain to flee, but the horse was long gone, and he was too injured to really move. This had to end soon, or they would both die. Felix was a monster of an opponent.

She knew what she had to do. Doing one of her signature spinning slashes, she conjured up a Bolganone spell and instead of slashing with her sword, she threw the fire at Felix. It hit his face much like it did Ingrid’s and it blistered furiously. Felix was not a bad looking guy. He was now.

Felix growled, his attacks halting for a moment. “Fuck, you’ve always fought dirty.”

Wren rolled back her shoulders. “We’re at war, and I will do whatever it takes to protect Sylvain.”

He scoffed and threw another Thoron. But it wasn’t aimed at her.

Wren threw her sword to the side, knowing it was broken at this point, and dashed in front of the spell, protecting Sylvain. It crackled against her spine, her back tingling from pain. She couldn’t move again. Maybe it wasn’t the best strategy, but what was she to do? Sylvain was her love and she wasn’t going to let him die at the hands of his ex-friend.

She could hear Felix laugh, hear his footsteps as they approached.

“Don’t worry, Wren. I’ll spare you, let you live in paralysis for the rest of your days. Sylvain? Not so much.” She heard him draw his sword. “Your end is here, Sylvain. Any last words?”

Sylvain could see Wren conjure up some devastating fire magic. Was that…?

Before anyone could say anything, Wren let out a screech, a roar, and down came flaming rocks. Meteor. A spell that was typically used on long distance enemies. Its devastating force rendered enemies to ash.

The surrounding area was immediately affected, boiling hot, rocks and earth crashing all around. Sylvain was spared from most of it. Some of the rocks had cut up Wren through her armor, but Felix...

Felix was under the rocks, his lower half completely smashed. He was yelling and cursing, saying every vile thing under the sun.

The rocks, as most magic does, dissipated, and Wren and Sylvain saw that Felix’s legs were snapped like twigs, facing directions they shouldn’t, bone popping out where it shouldn’t. It was disgusting, but fitting for someone so resentful.

Felix couldn’t stand. He tried, but the man could barely move. Wren figured he was as good as vulture food.

“Let him rot,” she said, spitting. “He was a miserable soul.”

Sylvain was quiet, managing to finally stand. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll do it.”

Sylvain limped towards Felix, Lance of Ruin glowing.

He looked down at his former friend. “I’m very sorry it came to this, Felix. I wish we could have reconnected despite the war.”

Felix spat on Sylvain’s boots. “I don’t need nor want your pity. Fuck you.”

Without a word, Sylvain stabbed him. He knew if he hesitated he would lose his nerve.

Exhaustion overcame. Sylvain collapsed, barely holding himself up with his hands. Wren hauled him to his feet. The horse returned.

She lifted him up on the horse, mounted, and they galloped off towards the nearest healing tent. Goddess only knew where Mercedes went.

They arrived at the nearest healer, Manuela, and then noticed Mercedes was there too. She looked like she was severely injured, but she was alive.

“Oh, I’m so glad you two made it. I’m sorry I wasn’t much use…”

“No, thank you for everything, Mercie,” Wren said thankfully. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Manuela and Wren helped Sylvain to a makeshift surgical table (it was really a cot) and Manuela got to work undoing his armor to expose the wound.

“Didn’t I do this for you years ago?” she asked playfully.

Sylvain just groaned.

“Well, unfortunately I don’t have the same sedative, so here’s a leather strap. Bite down on it. I’ll be quick.”

Linhardt appeared, ready to heal. He and Mercedes accompanied Manuela, and while she extracted pieces of armor and goddess knows what else, the other two wove a spell to attach bone to bone and seal skin. As much as it could really. Manuela stitched him, making sure his ribs were in the right position before doing so. Sylvain groaned the entire time but at least stayed still. The healers soaked up any excess blood, cleaning him. His face looked like Felix had never punched it.

They finished and Wren approached him, grasping his hand. Sylvain flexed his fingers.

“Take it off,” he said, meaning the gauntlet.

Wren did so and they held hands, skin on skin. It was comforting, despite the turmoil outside.

Manuela left some concoctions and led Linhardt and Mercedes away. She knew the two needed privacy.

Sylvain could feel himself passing out. He chuckled to himself.

“Hey sunshine.”

“What is it, moonbeam?” He had a funny look in his eyes.

“You’re my fucking girlfriend.”

Wren guffawed. He would say that at the most inappropriate time.

“And you’re my fucking boyfriend!”

They laughed but Sylvain then grimaced. “Ouch.”

They stayed quiet, knowing he needed to heal. But Sylvain never knew when to be quiet.

“I have a crazy thought.”

Wren looked at him curiously. “And what’s that?”

“The war is almost won. I’m sure Edelgard and Byleth have killed Dimitri. It’s too quiet now.”

“I fucking hope so, Sylvain. It would royally suck if they didn’t.”

“Yeah…” A far off look was in his eyes. “But today got me thinking…”

“What are you thinking?”

“I almost died today. You almost died today. We could have died and just…never…ah, I wanted to do this properly but I don’t know if we’ll survive. Today was just too close.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re not wrong…lots of close calls. So what did you want to do ‘properly’?”

He sucked on his teeth. It was now or never.

“We’ve been together for like, what, six years now?”

"I don’t think there’s an exact date but it was definitely in Harpstring Moon of 1180 that we met. So yeah, it’s been a long time. Most people probably would have married way before now, but ya know, war happens…” She froze. “Sylvain, what are you suggesting?”

“Yeah… I mean, I definitely considered it way before the war, but… I don’t know, we were young and it’s kinda scary making that choice on your own. I always thought my parents would dictate this.”

She growled. “Sylvain, please say what you mean. You know I hate when you meander.”

He chuckled. “You do that all the time though.”

She rolled her eyes. “YEAH, that’s why it annoys me! That’s my trait! You’ve got to be the direct one, okay?”

“Okay, you’re right.” He sighed. “There’s a hidden pocket inside my front left pocket. Reach in there.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Sylvain, this is not the time for…”

He cackled. “I am not asking for a handjob! Please, there is a… gift for you.”

She suddenly felt nervous. She thought she knew what this was but they were literally in the middle of a battle, so there was no way…

She reached inside his pocket to find that hidden pocket. She felt a small velvet box.

She pulled it out. “Ummmmmm…” It was exactly what she thought.

“Hand it over. Staring at it won’t help.”

She started to shake, but she handed it to him. She gulped. She could feel tears welling in her eyes.

He managed to sit up, wincing a bit, but he was up. “I wanted to do this properly.”

“You said that already.”

“Sunshine, I’m hopped up on concoctions. I can barely think straight.”

“Then, is now the time for…whatever this is? I’d rather you be sober.”

“No. I might not be able to do this after the war. And I want you to know my feelings for you and what I want for us regardless of my survival. It has to be now.”

Her eyes widened. “Sylvain… That’s so dark.”

“Well, war isn’t exactly a party.” He took a breath. “We’ve been together a while…”

She laughed. “We already established that.”

He was getting exasperated with her humor, but he loved it anyway. “Let me finish, babe.”

Years ago she would have said “don’t call me baby” but babe… Well, it was acceptable. She nodded.

“Meeting you has been… a dream. I sometimes wonder if I even deserve you, but you’ve stayed by my side through quite literally everything and have saved my life way more times than I can count. You’re fierce and strong and you can always see right through me. I can’t lie, there is comfort in that.” His eyes softened. “I can be myself and you’ll always accept that.”

She smiled. “Well yeah, you were way too funny of a guy for me to just ditch. I thought you were intriguing and you still are, you cheesy thing. And besides, you’ve saved my life too.”

“Maybe not in the way you’ve saved mine, but I can imagine I gave you hope for a better future.”

“You made me fearless and want to just do things, regardless of others’ opinions. I think that made me stronger. People talked mess about you and I was like ‘wow they suck, I’m gonna befriend this guy because it’s right and I like him’, and well, it was definitely more than friendship from the get-go.”

He laughed. “We’re meandering again.”

“Goddess damn it Sylvain, you giant distraction.”

“I’m cute though, right?”

“The cutest and then some. So come on. Don’t leave me hanging.”

He squeezed her hand. “I can’t imagine being without you. A life without you would be an absolute nightmare, and as someone who was a giant slut before he met you, that is an accomplishment.”

“Sylvain, you were hot, you still are so don’t give me that look , so I can’t blame you for being a slut. If you got it, flaunt it.”

“You know that’s not why, but yeah, I was pretty hot.”

“You idiot, you’re distracting yourself again.” She couldn’t help but laugh.

He laughed with her but winced.

She sighed. “Sylvain, say what you mean or lie down and wait for another moment.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine.” He suddenly found himself shaking but he held her hand to give him strength. It was so tight she couldn’t feel her fingers.

“Wren Elora Aleo…”

Wren inhaled sharply. Oh goddess he’s using my full name, this is it, this is it…

He beamed a beautiful smile. “Would you do the honor of-”

“WE FUCKING DID IT. WE FUCKING WON!!!”

Of course, Caspar had to interrupt a surreal moment.

Wren, losing her cool, yelled out, “Caspar, shut the fuck up! Sylvain was telling me something important!”

He looked a little dizzy, clutching his head. “Hey, I got a concussion; you can’t hold what I say against me.”

She rolled her eyes and looked at Sylvain. “Please finish your question. I am dying to answer.”

Sylvain shook his head. “I don’t know now…”

“Sylvain Jose Gautier you just said you wanted to do this properly but there’s no time and I already know what you’re going to say so please finish the question so I can give my answer that you ALREADY know!!!” she said through gritted teeth, breath rushing out of her.

She felt like she was going insane because he was smiling at her in that way where he knows he was caught, that crooked cocky smirk that she wanted to kiss away because it was just so arrogant. He really can be so full of himself…

“Marry me?” he quietly asked.

The way he said it, like he was suddenly unsure and exposed himself completely when she has seen him at his literal worst so why would he be shy…?

She couldn’t help but smile because she had been waiting for his proposal for what felt like a lifetime, had wanted to marry him since… well, maybe she always felt that way because meeting him felt so strange but right, like if she let him go do his own thing, rebuked him entirely, believed the gossip and closed her mind and heart, would she even still be alive? Would she have fought for Edelgard? Sylvain and Wren felt so strongly the same about crests that not knowing him would have never given that feeling of someone just getting it.

No, the moment she realized she wanted to marry him was when he got injured because of that stupid joust and she sang him that ridiculous song she wrote and he loved it. She had felt so stupid but it made him happy. A guy who thought her weird creative side was adorable and he loved it… Not many people reacted like that.

They went through so much together. Not even Seteth (goddess rest his soul, he was a good man fighting for a stupid cause) could tear them apart.

She felt free with Sylvain. Felt like she could forge her own destiny as long as he was with her.

“So uhhh… Is it really that hard to consider?”

“Sylvain, I was having flashbacks of us and realized the moment I wanted this. Your answer is obviously yes. ” She laughed so hard tears streamed. “It took you long enough. I almost proposed.”

“Pfft, you would honestly." But he finally opened the box to show the ring, a beautiful silver with a white diamond and green and yellow stones. It reminded her of a flower arrangement.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.” She was mesmerized.

He took it from the box, and grasped her hand. He took her glove off. He slid the ring on her finger and it felt so right, like the sun was breaking through clouds and she could feel radiance around her.

She couldn’t breathe. For once she was the overwhelmed one who had nothing to say. She started crying because that’s what fiancées did right?

Then he started to cry. “I hate these concoctions,” he laughed through the tears, as if that was the reason for his tears.

“You’re a giant softie and you know it,” she cried, hiccuping and laughing.

“Yo, that’s the ring you needed me and Linhardt for?” Caspar asked, concussion not withstanding.

“Haha, yeah,” Sylvain responded. “I’m sorry it was awkward holding your hand.”

“No problem. You did what you had to.”

Wren looked at them both quizzically. “I’m not following.”

Caspar looked at her. “He compared mine and Linhardt’s hands and figured out your ring size. I don’t get it myself, but Lin did.”

“How did that work, Sylvain?” She was genuinely lost.

“Uhh, just comparing and mashing results together. Lot of math. But it worked.” He pulled her close. “I’m not a total idiot.”

“I know,” she said. She could feel him shaking. “Please lie down. You can’t die before our wedding.”

He did so. “Yeah, this is better.”

She put her forehead to his chest. “Please rest, Sylvain.”

“Sure thing,” he sighed, enjoying her warmth. “Stay by my side.”

“I have for this long.” Her voice was muffled against his body. “You’re stuck with me.”

He smiled, looking at the ceiling of the tent, content for once, despite the battle outside. Wait, was there even still a battle…?

Edelgard and Byleth then burst into the tent. “We must leave for the capital at once. Rhea fled there and we must strike now while there are few reinforcements.”

 

Wren groaned in frustration. She was exhausted, having gone through about a million emotions within a few hours and she wanted to pass out for five years like Byleth had. 

 

“Don’t be like that,” Hubert reprimanded, forever Edelgard’s shadow."The war is almost over. You can complain all you want after."

 

“I’m not complaining, Hubert. I just wanted to enjoy like two minutes of happiness."

 

Everyone who had not witnessed the funniest proposal of the millennium did not understand her. "We're in a war. What could you be happy about? That we won this battle?"

 

It was like Hubert didn't know her. Granted, Hubert was only close to select people so other than that she had a long term relationship with Sylvain and he may have caught them in the baths together once… or twice… he really didn't know the significance of her relationship. 

 

Sylvain had passed out at this point but his chest was rising and falling which was a good thing for obvious reasons. 

 

"I would say that's more like relief. A lot of shit happened. We almost didn't make it."

 

"I have a report from a few witnesses stating Sylvain had been gravely injured by Ingrid Galatea but that you intercepted the final blow and killed her."

 

"I sure fucking did." Wren bragged. 

 

"Your chaotic style possibly saved Sylvain's life." Hubert sighed."But please know you have always been a wild card."

 

"I'm aware. Old habits die hard, but it definitely helped me in the fight with Felix."

 

"Felix Fraldarius? That wasn't mentioned."

 

"It was pretty foggy and the rain was heavy. That… was almost the end."

 

"What happened?" Hubert was always all business but she liked that. He never beat around the bush so he was perfect in his role. 

 

Wren recounted what happened, how Felix surprised them with Thoron, how they clashed swords, slinging spells at each other while slashing, willing themselves to pursue the fatality of the other. How her sword had broken and Felix took the opportunity to sling a final Thoron at Sylvain, how she jumped into it because there was no way she could deflect it. She was paralyzed, Felix taunted her, saying he'd leave her with the anguish of knowing Felix would kill Sylvain. And then, she cast Meteor and that was the swan song for Felix. Sylvain managed to get up… Felix said something callous and then he was gone, speared by Sylvain's lance. 

 

"I have never felt more fear in my life than in that moment." She finished."That rivalry with Felix is finally over when it shouldn't have been a thing to begin with. I'm glad Sylvain isn't awake to hear this. He doesn't need to relive that moment."

 

"Meteor… you've never cast that spell before."

 

"I learned it a while ago but I saved it… I had no other choice. My fire spells were weakened in the rain."

 

"That's not normally a close range spell. How on earth did you manage that?"

 

She snorted."I don't know, the power of love? My only thought was 'not today you son of a bitch and never again' and then he was crushed."

 

"Hmmm… you truly are a wild card." Hubert considered her."I do not think you're in a mental state to fight in our next battle. With your lover grievously injured, you'll only be a liability."

 

Oh he was absolutely fucking right. She wasn't going to leave Sylvain's side. Not after that tender moment. The thought of fighting but not returning to him… that would destroy Sylvain. He was more sensitive than others thought and other than that one time with Mercie when he snuck off after a short argument with Wren (it was so insignificant she barely remembered what it was about), he only cried in front of her. 

 

"I have no intention of leaving Sylvain. I will destroy anyone who dares to separate us." 

 

Everyone in the army knew Wren and Sylvain were crazy for each other; it showed when they fought side by side in battle, eating dinner together, when they got drunk and were more than a little handsy in front of their comrades. Sylvain was a tough guy, he could take some serious blows and he dealt massive damage, but Wren was… insane. When she fought, it was like something would possess her. She held no mercy, she fought as if she had nothing to lose, when really she had everything to lose. She was insanely evasive and aggressive, as they all knew from their academy days, but she was not good at defensive positions at all. If someone could out-aggro her, she would fall. Quite easily in Hubert's opinion, but she was tenacious and refused to give up. She was also incredibly protective and easily put herself in harm's way to save a comrade. Sylvain was not much different than that either; he had taken a serious blow for Byleth once fighting the frontlines. Wren had lost her mind and the enemies Sylvain did not strike down were decimated by Wren. She had thrown fire spells until her hands were smoking and had even caused a small fire. She had to spend hours having her hands healed because she managed to cause severe burns on her own hands. 

 

"Yes. Well, you will be escorting the medic wagon with me so the others can head to the capital for the final battle." 

 

"That's fine. When are we leaving?"

 

"Now," Edelgard said."Please be careful in transferring the patients." The patients were literally just Sylvain and Caspar, but she supposed mentally she was injured. The healers had gotten Caspar and Sylvain into the wagon. The rain had eased a little, more of a mist, but Wren was ever on guard. It would be easy for straggling soldiers to ambush them. 

 

Hubert was the one driving the wagon, clicking his tongue to stir the horses. The other horses they managed to find were trotting alongside them. Wren had found Sylvain's (she managed to find her way back to them despite being so easily spooked) and Wren rode her because other than Sylvain, she only trusted Wren, perhaps because she knew in her horsey way that Wren was special to Sylvain. Horses were sensitive to that sort of thing, so Marianne told her one day during stable duty. 

 

Sylvain had stirred at this point, seeing that they were moving."Where're we going?" He managed to slur. 

 

"Away from here for sure. We'll be close to the capital where the rest of us will fight. Wren and I will be staying with you to ensure you won't be attacked by soldiers looking for an easy casualty." Hubert said, very cold, but honest. 

 

Sylvain whistled."We're really at the end…" he then looked at Wren, who was trotting alongside the wagon next to him on his horse."Hey sunshine."

 

She chuckled at that nickname he had made up on the spot years ago."What's on your mind now, Sylvain?"

 

"This is like that time in the infirmary. You by my side, I'm injured in literally the same spot… sing that song for me?"

 

She felt her face erupt in a blush. That song was only ever for Sylvain's ears. She loved that earnest idiot. 

 

"Sylvain, you know that song is only for you… I am not singing it in front of our comrades." She stole a glance at Hubert. " Especially not in front of Hubert."

 

Manuela cackled. "I've heard it honey. It's cute. You have a lovely voice."

 

Wren stared at the reins in her hand. "Oh my god please just forget that… I didn't even realize you were still in the room."

 

"Oh come on! You should indulge your fiancé. You are engaged right? Or did I not overhear that correctly? Is that ring for something else?"

 

She was not embarrassed over her love for Sylvain. It was well known. And she was glad because it fended off most of the curious and desperate comrades. There were some that were persistent, but a glare from Wren, cracking her knuckles because she was still a great brawler, or a laugh from Sylvain saying he was a one-woman kind of guy, deterred them. But having them know such an intimate thing, even knowing she wrote him a song because they really were that embarrassing couple, was mortifying. 

 

"I'm going to melt into this rain," Wren said. She liked the spotlight normally, but today had been so tiring…

 

"Sunshine please…" Sylvain said in that whiny way he only used for her. Goddess she was a sucker for it. He could be so needy and she thought it was cute. 

 

"Okay. You're lucky I still remember it."

 

"Wren you literally sang it two days ago when we took a bath."

 

" Shut the fuck up Sylvain." She was blushing so hard. She heard Caspar and Linhardt laugh, even a chuckle from Hubert, and Manuela gave her a sly look. She wanted to just disappear in the ether. She loved singing but this was… personal. 

 

"Fine…" She took a breath, counting the timing and then she let it pour from her. 

 

I believe the morning sun always gonna shine again, and
I believe a pot of gold waits at every rainbow's end, oh
I believe in roses kissed with dew
Why shouldn't I believe the same in you?

 

I believe in make-believe, fairy tales and lucky charms, and
I believe in promises spoken as you cross your heart, oh
I believe in skies forever blue
Why shouldn't I believe the same in you?

 

You may say I'm a fool, feelin' the way that I do
You can call me Pollyanna, say I'm crazy as a loon
I believe in silver linings
And that's why I believe in you

 

I believe there'll come a day, maybe it will be tomorrow
When the blue bird flies away, all we have to do is follow
I believe a dream can still come true
Why shouldn't I believe the same in you?

 

You may say I'm a fool, feelin' the way that I do
I believe in friends and laughter, and the wonders love can do
I believe in songs and magic
And that's why I believe in you

 

You may say I'm a fool, feelin' this way about you
There's not much I can do
I'm gonna be this way my life through

 

'Cause I still believe in miracles, I swear I've seen a few
And the time will surely come when you can see my point of view
I believe in second chances
And that's why I believe in you

 

She sang the last few notes and then felt nauseous. She looked at Sylvain and he looked so goddess damn happy it made her heart squirm. It was a song from when she was like 18, so cringey in love, and she didn't even have an accompaniment that the damn thing needed so she had to sing the version that was a cappella. 

 

"I'm sorry it's so cheesy, I wrote it when I was 18 and an idiot in love."

 

"Honey you're still an idiot in love,” said Manuela and everyone laughed harder at that and Wren screeched which made Sylvain laugh. 

 

"You're so cute when you're flustered."

 

It wasn't often because she liked to keep a facade of having it together, but man sometimes there were times when even she couldn't keep her emotions in check. This was one of them. 

 

"When you're recovered I'm so getting you back."

 

"Looking forward to it~" he said in his smarmy and flirty way. 

 

" SYLVAIN!" She had to look away from him. 

 

She heard Hubert say something under his breath. She knew what he was going to say. 

 

"Go ahead and say it Hubert. Trust me, we didn't intend for you to see us."

 

"I'm sure if Seteth had seen you two in his office covered in old reports and a few ink stains two weeks ago, he would have been brought from the grave to reprimand you, and then die again."

 

Wren's blood ran cold. Sylvain let out a louder laugh than necessary given his injury. 

 

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?! "

 

Hubert let out that eerie cackle he only used when he was about to fell an opponent."You thought the bathhouse was the only place I caught you? I must keep tabs on everyone and I am unfortunately aware of your… favorite places. I have to, in case of an insurrection or invasion."

 

Even Sylvain shut his mouth. Wren could not breathe. 

 

Sylvain finally found some words because Wren looked like she was going to faint off his horse."So… you probably know about that time in the fishing pond…"

 

Linhardt looked disgusted."We eat those fish!"

 

"If it's any consolation, we didn't even finish because I felt something brush my leg and immediately thought I was going to be eaten by that giant fish said to live in the pond." Wren managed to say. 

 

"Byleth caught that one years ago. There is nothing in there but like… bull fish and pike and the like." Linhardt retorted. 

 

"Still, those are aggressive fish and I don't like the idea of being fish food."

 

"Then why bother in the first place? Was it the thrill of something new, something dangerous?"

 

Wren wanted to cry."I fell in and Sylvain dove in after me. It just. Happened."

 

Hubert chuckled."I did not know about that one, but it's good to know that not even the fishing pond is a limitation on your libido."

 

"HAH nothing is!" Sylvain yelled. 

 

Linhardt scoffed."I think you may be the most incorrigible couple in the existence of relationships." 

 

"Linhardt, you definitely didn't mind that time in the training grounds," Caspar piped up with.

 

It was Wren's turn to laugh."Oh my goddess you hypocrite. You're into public sex too."

 

"It was an experiment!" Linhardt insisted. Caspar laughed but didn't confirm nor deny.

 

Manuela sighed."You're whores, all of you."

 

No one wanted to say Manuela you're just jealous because wow did she try to seduce every single man she could. Byleth once told her she was fine on her own and still competent. Relationships weren't the end all be all of things but no one could convince Manuela. Wren did hope she'd find love someday. Manuela deserved… something. She really was a wonderful and caring person, if a bit unkempt. 

 

There was a pause as everyone considered their lives. Sylvain and Wren were engaged. Apparently Caspar and Linhardt fucked, or perhaps were still fucking. Hubert was a mystery, Manuela was not. Wren knew Byleth and Edelgard were close but how close…? There were others but it was vague.

 

Regardless of what was next to come, they continued on to Enbarr as Edelgard and Byleth went after Rhea.

Chapter 28: Chapter 28

Summary:

Evacuating the injured goes south. Wren knows what she must do.

Notes:

Just wanna say... It was a pleasure writing for y'all. I adore this story, and this is the penultimate chapter. Maybe. We'll see.

Again, this is mostly verbatim from the outline I wrote 5 years ago. It's so exciting to know we are almost at the end.

It was entirely too quiet on the ride back to the main camp. It was as if all the birds and animals and other creatures that make noise went on a brief hiatus. The air was too still. Wren, one of the only mobile offensive units, knew this too well.

 

There was a force nearby.

 

And she was right. Some straggling soldiers from the kingdom tried to ambush the medic wagon. Hubert threw devastating spells at them and while incredibly effective, he wasn’t fast enough to catch every soldier. Wren dealt with the ones Hubert missed. 

 

It became a swarm and Wren realized with much dread, resolute, but still dread, she had to do the one thing she didn’t want to: she had to fend off the soldiers by herself. Caspar and Sylvain were too injured, Linhardt and Manuela, while strong mages, were not meant for tough battles, and Hubert was the one driving. 

 

Wren took a shaky breath. “HUBERT! Go as fast as you can! I’ll hold them off so everyone can escape!” She jumped off the horse she had been riding and went after the remaining force.

 

“That’s suicide!” Hubert yelled, but Wren heard him whip the reins anyway. Hubert cared, he didn’t want any members of the BESF to perish, but sometimes the sacrifice of one was necessary for the survival of many. 

 

“It’ll be fine!” Wren yelled back, knowing it wasn’t. It couldn’t. There were a lot of soldiers and while she was fast and fought purely on instinct, these were clearly trained soldiers who could easily overpower her. But she did have an extra sword Byleth managed to get from the armory before they left, her fists, and her spells. She knew she could cast Meteor one more time, but that was definitely a last ditch attempt at killing them all off should she need to escape. 

 

She fought in her chaotic way, leaping over blows to deliver a devastating kick in the face, rolling between a soldier’s legs causing his comrade to stab him where it really hurt. She used the ground as vantage to trip soldiers and then lethally stab them. After a kill by her blade, she'd whip around and sling a spell, melting the iron helmets to their traitorous heads. So much screaming. So much carnage. There was a copse of trees she found some refuge in as they hunted her down and she descended from a tree, snapping the neck of a soldier as she collided feet first, only to bounce back and thrust her sword into a surprised soldier's chest.

 

They were lesser in numbers, but Wren felt her energy sapping away. The battle earlier against Felix was probably the most taxing fight of her life. She felt her swings getting sloppy, and her spells were being depleted. Some managed to get a hit on her and despite the many layers of her Mortal Savant uniform, she still felt a blade scrape against her arm, along her side. One had butted her with the dull end of a lance and she fell forward, but kept enough of her sense to roll away and hop up. His aim was horrible as he threw it and it sunk into the ground and she used the temporary vantage to vault herself towards the soldier and send him flying with a drop kick.  

 

But she knew she couldn't keep this up. Her new sword was on its way out. The majority of her spells were gone. If she did not run now, despite her instinct to fight to the death, she would never make it back home. She would never see Sylvain again and his heart would be broken. 

 

That thought alone, that thought of caring only for Sylvain's well being and doing her utmost to protect him, fueled her. The soldiers approached her cautiously because she took a stance they did not recognize from the very strange, technique-less fighter. She had been so fast and horrifying; why had she stopped?

 

They were definitely soldiers strictly because of brawn because anyone with a brain would take advantage of an still foe (at least those without honor and really honor was useless in a war like this). Wren looked up, staring at them with the eyes of a crazed beast, the eyes of a cornered animal who knew it was kill or be killed. The soldiers paused because suddenly the instinct to fight had turned into the instinct to run as this psychotic woman let out an unholy scream and had jumped only to swing her body down with full force and they felt the meteors before they saw them. The heat they emitted was excruciating, their collision worse. The soldiers were buried, and the one that had managed to avoid it stared at her, saw what was left (it was nothing) of his compatriots and he threw his weapon down to yell out “this bitch isn't worth it!”

 

Wren wasn't stupid. A runaway soldier could bring back reinforcements. It was unlikely but she would not take that chance. She used as much of her energy as she could without blowing out her reserves and flung one last Bolganone spell and the man was down. 

 

She exhaled. Goddess she wanted to fall and succumb to exhaustion but she couldn't. She didn't know how far the wagon got, if they even managed to survive, but she had to pursue them. She took an invigorating breath and sprinted. 

 

Wren did not take quick steps as some did. She took long strides because her legs were meant for power, not speed, and it was easier to launch herself with powerful strides rather than a quick succession of steps. 

 

Her lungs burned. Her calves were on fire. She felt her entire body shaking, desperate to make this hellbent woman stop. But she pressed on. Her heart was going to burst out of her chest, but if it meant catching up to the wagon to see Sylvain's face one last time, it was worth it. 

 

It was in sight, having slowed down because they were in a remote area devoid of any population. Wren let out a breathless screech, voice hoarse as her body begged her to stop, begged her to drink water, to fall and let her muscles relax. She was so taut with tension and adrenaline had rushed through her, but she felt it ebbing and she needed one final push. 

 

“I'm back! Wait for me!” The wagon slowed a bit but continued its journey to wherever they needed to be and with a final rush of energy (because it was this or falling in the dirt to never rise again) she leaped, executing probably the best long jump of her life, and when her feet touched the wooden floor, she tumbled, falling face first, her muscles twitching, convulsing. She couldn’t inhale fast enough. She was choking on her own inhales.

 

She couldn't move. Her body told her “sit your stupid ass down” and locked her up. She heard herself give out a shaky moan and felt herself going in and out of consciousness. 

 

She heard her comrades yelling. Caspar was saying something like “holy shit you actually survived.” Linhardt was muttering something like “you are a fool but you did buy us time…” Manuela was cooing something along the lines of “oh goddess you poor thing, what on earth have you done to yourself?” Sylvain's was the most clear because his voice was all she needed to stay tethered to reality. “Wren! I thought I lost you! Don't you ever do that to me again!” She felt his hands grab at her, pulling her to him. Manuela chastised him saying he should not be lifting her, but Wren felt him embrace her, holding her tightly. Her face was in his chest, she couldn't move to return the hug, but she did feel his face against the crown of her head, kissing her hair, muttering, “You literally said you wouldn't leave my side and then you do that anyway. You're crazy and I love you.”

 

She managed to say “I came back, didn't I?” but it wasn't the time to joke. She really did almost die. Again. 

 

Sylvain was right to propose when he did. That moment was the only thing fueling her to continue. Had she never known the thrill of knowing he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, she would have died wondering if he ever did. 

 

“You did, but it was reckless.” He kept kissing her hair, squeezing her as if she'd float away. 

 

She sank into him. “If I didn't, they would have killed all of us. It was better for me to hold them off than to lose all of you. I couldn't live with myself if I let any of you die.”

 

He chuckled but didn't say anything. She did have to say one more thing before she passed out.

 

“Besides, who would attend our wedding if we lost this war?” And then she was out. 

 

Sylvain felt her go limp and panicked. Before he could say anything, Manuela checked her pulse. “She's fine, Sylvain. She's just spent. Linhardt and I will cast a healing spell on her and when she comes to we'll force feed her an elixir. Turn her around so I can see her face and so she can breathe.”

 

Sylvain did so and Manuela and Linhardt looked over her thoroughly. They saw the lacerations she did receive, the bruising, the cuts along her scalp, arms, and sides. There was blood, but they could tell it wasn't hers so she truly did slaughter every last one of them. 

 

The twitching of her muscles was definitely concerning, but after a few warm healing spells (Sylvain focused his own along her face), her body relaxed and she let out a sigh. She didn't regain consciousness, but it was clear she felt better. 

 

“Let her rest. And you too! You can't both die. You're both idiots.” Manuela chastised. 

 

Sylvain sighed, and let his head rest against Wren's. Knowing she was there, by his side again, was all he needed, and he also passed out, entering a dreamless sleep.