2 - THE LUPINE TRAIL

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Felix

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I bolt awake out of an anxious dream and look around, trying to steady my disoriented senses.

The room is filled with late afternoon sunlight and Wolfie is perched on the windowsill, basking in its warmth. Beside me, Sylvain is fast asleep. He has shifted unconsciously to lie diagonally across the bed, taking up most of it. I am perched on the edge of the mattress, left with only a sheet since he has stolen all of the blankets.

"You bastard."

I attempt to yank one back but he clutches it tighter and mumbles something incoherent.

"Why do I put up with you?" I whisper.

I should wake him up and kick him out of my room, but he looks so happy and comfortable. Lying back down, I stare up at the ceiling and wonder how long I was asleep. It had to have been five or six hours at least.

When was the last time I slept for five consecutive hours? What kind of hex did Sylvain cast on me? Is he really getting that good at magic? That's a disturbing thought.

"Go away, you bedhog," I say, nudging his shoulder.

He rolls closer, though, and flings his arm around my waist.

I freeze, fighting the instinct to shove him off me because I know it would wake him up. I will just slip out from under it and leave the room.

But my body doesn't obey my mind and move. Instead I close my eyes and relax. It's hard to deny how comforting the simple bit of physical contact feels. No one ever gets too close to me and no one touches me. I had forgotten how much I missed it.

There are only servants and soldiers here and I have no friends in the territory. Sylvain has been traveling around the northern border doing official Gautier business, whatever that is.

Dimitri and Byleth are up to their eyeballs in the drudgery of running a country and Ingrid's knightly duties keep her too busy to so much as send a letter to. And where the hell is Ashe? Did he really end up moving to Brigid with Petra?

I guess we all went our separate ways two years ago.

I have seen a couple people in passing here and there, but for the most part we are all busy with the responsibilities of our houses. The monastery was only a fleeting break from the lives we had to inevitably inherit. I guess I never really did expect the closeness of those friendships to last.

Even Mercedes, who is more like family to me than a friend, still left shortly after the war to go to her new home in imperial territory.

But Sylvain is different. He has been the one constant thing in my life. Even after we were separated for a while during the beginning of the war, we found our way back to each other when we returned to the monastery.

I thought it would always be that way, that nothing in life was important enough to keep us apart for long. Sylvain has sworn to never get married and at this point, I think it's safe to assume I won't either, given the fact I have yet to meet a woman I am attracted to and a man I can stand to be around for more than a night.

But a year is a long time. Maybe it didn't seem that way to Sylvain, or it wouldn't to a normal person, but for me it felt like a decade.

I open my eyes to look over at him and just about jump out of my skin to find him awake and staring at me.

"Did you actually sleep or were you just faking it?" he asks, squinting at me suspiciously.

"I slept."

"For more than an hour?"

"Yes."

Sylvain smiles and I shove his arm off me. "No thanks to you commandeering the entire bed. If you insist on hovering around me ever again, you're sleeping on the floor," I say.

"You could have slept on the floor."

"It's my bed!"

"Not anymore. I like it. I'm staying here. You can sleep in the guest room if you want," he replies.

I get up and put my clothes back on, and after a minute of lying around and yawning, Sylvain does the same.

"You still want to go for that ride?" I ask.

"If you do."

"Sure."

We need to do something that doesn't involve talking. I have proven that I can't keep my mouth under control and I don't want to say anything else pathetic.

After a quick breakfast that I suppose at this hour is lunch, we saddle our horses and set off westwards towards the trail.

It's a relief to find that some of my strength has returned and I can ride without feeling light-headed. My hands are still shaking a bit as I hold the reins, but my mind is clear and I feel better than I have in a long while.

The Lupine Trail winds through the dense woods along the banks of the river and this time of the spring it lives up to its name. Purple lupine flowers fill the grass and white trilliums are tucked away in the shadows at the bases of trees.

"This is still my favorite place in all of Faerghus," Sylvain says.

It's mine too.

"You have plenty of forests in your territory," I reply.

"But this one I have happy memories of."

I look around at the woods, bits and pieces of those memories echoing through my head. I have avoided this trail for a while because I always think of them when I am here.

Tiny little Felix chasing after Dimitri chanting, "Fight me! Come on, coward! Fight me!" only to be knocked off his feet in a matter of seconds when Dimitri finally gave in and drew his wooden training sword…

Ingrid galloping down the trail on horseback yelling at Sylvain for something. "Hide!" he whispered and pushed me into the river, diving in after me. We ducked under the mossy edge of the riverbank and shivered in the icy water until she gave up searching for us…

Sylvain and I plunking a bunch of pine needles we wove into a circlet on Dimitri's head and solemnly saying, "Your crown, my liege." But Dimitri just yanked it off and told us to get lost…

More recent memories too - Mercedes wandering among the trees, laughing and gathering a bouquet of late-summer daisies… But that one isn't as happy, I suppose. It had been a good day like every other spent in these woods. It was just that at the end of it she had told me that she was leaving Faerghus. "I'll miss you, little brother. Write to me. You know wherever I am, I will always be your friend and I will always love you."

"Are there ghosts around here?" Sylvain asks, drawing me from my memories. "Or are you just admiring the scenery?"

"Just staring at nothing," I answer, nudging my horse to walk a little faster.

Sylvain catches up and rides close beside me, but thankfully he doesn't ask any more questions or strike up a conversation.

I glance over at him while he is absorbed in looking around at the forest. He looks strong and healthy as ever, but in the sunshine, the scar on his face stands out more. I wasn't lying to him - he does still look handsome. I think it would take a lot more than a scar to harm his good looks. Even ten more scars wouldn't matter. He would still have that body.

But the sight of the scar evokes a painful guilt in me. I should have been there to protect him. He's too stupid and reckless in a fight. He needs someone to have his back.

Maybe I should give up being the duke, pass on the leadership of House Fraldarius to my cousin.

No, that's impossible. I can't let down Rodrigue like that. He'd roll over in his grave if I handed the title off to idiot Cousin Marten.

My horse whinnies nervously and shies to the side a few steps, but I ignore her, too lost in thought.

Sylvain's sudden gasp of alarm snaps my attention back to the moment and I see him rein in his horse to a halt, staring at a thicket of brush a stone's throw away.

"What is it?" I ask.

"There's something there," he says, jumping down off his horse.

I follow him and draw my sword as we approach. Sylvain leaves his sheathed but I see a flicker of sparks in his hand.

"Stay back," he says.

"You stay back," I reply, stepping in front of him and getting down on my knees to crawl into the thicket.

I only have to shove through the dense brush a few feet before I come across the body. It's a young woman, naked and lying facedown on the ground

Slipping my sword into its sheath, I move over to make room for Sylvain to crawl in. He swears when he sees the body and shakes his head. "What the hell?"

He picks her up gently and I hold back the brush to allow him to carry her out without the branches tearing at them.

When we are free of the thicket, Sylvain sets her body down on a patch of grass and I take off my coat to cover her. But as he rolls her onto her back, we both freeze.

There is a design of some kind cut into her skin, right above her breasts.

"What is that?" Sylvain says.

I cover her lower body with my coat and Sylvain takes off his scarf, cleaning away the dried blood on her chest.

The girl's dead body feels so jarringly out of place in these beautiful, almost sacred woods. Somehow it disturbs me more than any of the mutilated corpses I have seen on battlefields.

She can't be older than nineteen or twenty, with long blonde hair and a face that was likely pretty at one point, but now is too haggard and haunted to be so anymore.

"What the fuck?" Sylvain whispers and I turn my attention back to her wound.

Dread steals my breath away as I realize that the design carved into her skin is the shield dragon crest of House Fraldarius.

"We need to get out of here," Sylvain says, buttoning my coat up around her body and covering her face with the scarf. He picks her up and straps her to his saddle, then looks back at me. But I am still on my knees, my bleary mind reeling to process what I just saw and why it could have happened.

Sylvain pulls me to my feet and drags me over to my horse. He helps me into the saddle but lingers for a moment with his hand on my leg.

"Fee? You alright?" he asks.

I can hear the unspoken rest of his thought plain as day because I am asking myself the same thing.

Why are you acting like this is the first dead body you have ever seen?

"I'm fine," I say automatically. "Let's go."