A/N: Howdy! I am back, alive and breathing. We are about to enter the next major arc of White Clouds: the whole Gautier shenanigan. Buckle up because from now on until about the next 5 chapters, shit will be hitting the fan.
Thank you for the new favs, follows, and reviews! I'm always reading them, even if I can't comment to them on FFN lol. They really help motivate me :)
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[White Clouds]
Chapter 24: Blood Thinner than Water
Miklan never wanted to walk down this path.
If he had the choice, he would retreat to the comforts of his home. Of course, he didn't have any good memories in such a cold, heartless place but if he pretended to be an insignificant flea, perhaps his father would've allowed him to have a place to call home at least. Maybe begging on his knees for forgiveness would do him well. But he was far too prideful to prostrate himself in front of those bastards who dared to look down upon him since birth, simply because he didn't bear a crest.
Again, Miklan never wanted to go this far.
He hated his father and loathed his younger brother. If he had the chance to, he'd strangle that small neck, crush his brother under the freezing winter of Faerghus by locking him inside a bottomless well and leaving him to die. Maybe even spit on that stupid, smiling face, just to make himself feel better.
It wasn't his fault he turned out this way. His father was the villain and this crest-worshipping world was the side-kick. He was just a victim in the grand scheme of things.
Yes, he had to believe so.
He didn't make the choice to leave his family name behind and become a nasty, irredeemable bandit. It was the only path left open for him after being whipped, lashed, and kicked out of his house by none other than the people who gave birth to him. And his weak, pathetic, blubbering fool of a brother dared to break down into a snotty pile of tears the day he left when he was the one who wanted to tear apart the heavens above, scream to the Goddess for being so unfair with her blessings.
Disgusting.
This world was revolting, and he was hell-bent on destroying everything with his own hands. He would make them all pay for belittling his worth by using their sacred lance, prove himself the rightful heir by thrusting it into the bodies of everyone who dared act as rightful leaders of House Gautier.
It was his place to take. Only him and no one else.
Miklan was a ball of rage when he entered his base in Conand Tower. His men, who usually crowded around him like they were worshiping Seiros herself, huddled themselves into a corner opposite from the entrance.
Miklan stormed through the door, pushing past a pile of wooden chairs and half-broken tables along the way before he plopped down onto his throne, which was really just an empty barrel of ale. He tapped his feet, a permanent scowl etched on his scarred features. Then, he made a quick motion with his hands, beckoning one of his subordinates to crawl over towards him.
One thief scrambled over, bowing a deep angle in front of him. "W-What's wrong, sir?"
"Give me a mug of ale," Miklan barked with a death glare.
"Of course, sir!" The young thief sprinted off to the basement, searching for a glass of frothy alcohol.
The entire tower was silent except for the thundering taps of Miklan's restless foot. The thieves swallowed, glancing at each other with concern marred in their quivering eyes. They had spent many years alongside their boss, but they still couldn't properly navigate themselves past his mood swings. They had successfully retrieved the Lance of Ruin, but it was obvious something was still bothering their leader.
The young thief eventually appeared from the bottom of the tower, hands shivering as he wobbled across the floor. He bowed again as he held the mug of cold beer in front of Miklan at eye level.
The silence was deafening as the poor thief waited for Miklan to grab the mug from his hands. His legs shook, muscles cramping up, back aching as he remained at a ninety-degree angle. A whole minute passed before the mug was snatched off his freezing hands and the young thief lifted his head up with a tilted smile.
A splash of cold to his face and the thief blubbered, yelping in surprise.
The pale yellow liquid dribbled down his shocked features as he stared in horror at his boss. Miklan stood up from his seat and threw a quick jab at the young thief's neck, sending him flying, vision spinning as he crashed landed into a pile of empty crates, jetting splinters of wood over towards the crowd of subordinates hiding in the corner.
Miklan stomped over the wreckage, boots snapping pieces of wood into two as he loomed over the fainting thief. He snarled, slamming his heels into the poor man's stomach, sending him flailing upwards. "Fucking brat, are you making a fool of me? This beer isn't even frothy anymore!" Another giant swing to the head and he scraped the skin off the thief's head.
The sound of bones cracking vibrated down the icy walls, the rest of his subordinates shivering in fear. Miklan's rampage died out at the cost of a young, fledgling life. He scoffed, turning the corpse over with disgust as he spat into the open wounds. "Worthless scum. All of them."
He whipped his head back to the group of bandits. "Someone clean this mess up and get me a proper glass of beer. I don't care if you have to raid the nearest village. Go, now!"
The group dispersed as the members of his bandit crew jostled over each other, scrambling out of the cold, dark tower in search of quality goods. Miklan settled himself onto the same empty barrel, folding his legs as he leaned against the wall, hands behind his head.
The wall of rain outside drummed against the roof of the tower, discordant echoes blending in with the haunting howl of wind blowing in his ears. He paid it no heed. Dark umber orbs fixated on his most prized possession lying next to him on the ground: the Lance of Ruin.
The pale, bony edges coupled with the lightning motif of the well-sculpted weapon — the bane of his existence. Combined with the thundering clouds of rainstorm outside, it was like the Goddess was mocking him and his petty actions. The weapon remained deadly silent, not even the slightest buzz or glow.
He grabbed the lance by the hilt, holding it straight in front of him. His nails latched themselves onto the grip, holding on for dear life as he glared at the unresponsive stone no different from a pile of rubble in his unworthy hands. A wave of hatred, self-loathing, and bitterness swept over him and Miklan couldn't help but laugh.
He dropped the weapon onto the ground, the holy relic tainted by mud from his wet boots. He sneered at it from above, a mocking grin on his lips. "What's so good about this stick of bones, anyway?" He kicked it lightly with his foot, letting the object roll down the sloped floor.
To his surprise, the weapon continued rolling down the cobbled floor until it halted in front of a wooden cane. Miklan remained frozen in his seat, eyes boring into the newcomer dressed entirely in a black cloak.
Umber-brown orbs thinned. "Who the fuck are you?" Miklan spat. "And how the hell did you get in here?"
A low chuckle escaped from underneath the veiled man. The cloaked figure stepped forward, using his cane to probe the Lance of Ruin, letting it roll back to its new owner. Miklan reached down to grab the weapon and in a flash, he swung wide, ripping the cloak off the stranger's head, exposing ghostly white skin and a face aged with wrinkles and bloodshot veins.
"Old geezer, I don't know who the hell you are, but this isn't some sacred sanctuary for you to pray in. Leave before I bust your head open," Miklan threatened, standing up on his feet. He helped the lance near the old man's neck. "Don't let me warn you twice. Leave, now."
The old man lightly batted the lance away from his face with a confident smirk. "Do not be so impatient, young man. I have come here with an offer most appealing to you."
Miklan glared at the crafty old man, snarling. "Whatever scam you're selling, I'm not buying any. Get away." He shooed him off with his armored hands, but the old man only took a small step back.
"Patience, young man. My name is Solon and I am here to inform you I can give you what you desire most in this world," Solon greeted with a curt bow. He tapped the cane on the floor, smirking wide at Miklan's dumbfounded face. "I assure you, I may be a talented swindler and master of disguises, but I am here to offer you an…alliance, of sorts."
"Alliance," Miklan repeated, eying the old man with nothing but distrust. "I don't know what fool blabbed his mouth, but you can do nothing for me. This is your last warning, old man. Scram."
Solon backed away, chuckling darkly. "My, my. You are as impatient as my lord warned. Then forgive me for taking more desperate measures."
Miklan didn't know what hit him, but after a loud crack of lightning, a blur of vivid purple light launched itself right into his face. He breathed in the toxic fume, feeling every muscle in his body crunch up as he fell onto his knees gasping for air. "What the fuck did you do to me, you old crafty fox?!"
The purple aura coiled around him like a serpent, tying his limbs up with dark magic, preventing him from moving.
Solon tapped his cane once more, earning Miklan's undivided attention. "Now that you are more willing to listen to me, I would like to offer you something you cannot refuse." Solon's dark eyes gained an eerily purple luminescence, his grin pure shark. "As I said, I can give you what you most desire. What I mean is…if you wish to possess the Crest of Gautier, I can do that for you."
Miklan's first reaction was to snort. His body convulsed as he guffawed, jerking his chin up into the sky, tears of laughter spilling from his dull orbs. "You make a funny joke, old man. Who knew you had a sense of humor in you?" His laugh warped into a mocking snigger. "I thought you were going to say something more believable, but this? Hah! You must take me for a fool. If it was so easy to have that god-forsaken crest, I would've done so long ago!" He raised his voice higher, yelling at Solon with hatred fueling his anger.
Solon didn't budge from his spot, staring down at the writhing man with interest. "Hm, I see. Then, perhaps a demonstration is necessary." Solon reached inside his cloak, hands searching for a specific object. He pulled out a glowing red stone, turning the front towards Miklan whose eyes widened as he recognized the symbol engraved onto the surface.
"T-That…that's impossible!" Miklan screeched. He jerked his head to the lance in his hands. Fumbling with the weapon, he lifted the lance into the air, eyes boring into the spherical orb in the center. There it was, the damn symbol of the Gautier Crest, staring back at him. "That stone of yours must be a fake. I have the real one with me here!"
Solon scoffed. "Of course, the one attached to the Lance of Ruin you possess is real. The one I have is only a replica. However, as you can see, I can create artificial crest stones." Solon mumbled a spell under his breath, incomprehensible words echoing through the dark hall as the symbol engraved onto the stone in his hands floated into the air. The Crest of Gautier glowed a wintry purple in Solon's hands, much to Miklan's dismay.
"Y-You…what kind of magic is this?!" Miklan struggled against the chains of magic around him, growling. "I cannot believe it!"
Solon bent down to eye-level with Miklan, dark eyes flashing. "You do not need to believe me. But even if you do not, like a moth to the flame, you will jump at this opportunity. Because it is all you have ever desired."
Sweat glistened on Miklan's forehead like icy glacial. He swallowed, hands trembling. "You…can give me it? The accursed crest?"
Solon cackled. "Indeed, I can. I will implant this crest stone inside of you. That will allow you to wield the Lance of Ruin like the true inheritor. However, there is still one last ingredient missing."
"What is it? Tell me! My band of thieves will find it without fail!" Miklan raised his voice hysterically, eyes whirling with madness, lips curling up into a wicked grin. "Hah! Finally, I can finish those bastards for good!"
Solon leaned closer to Miklan, whispering in a hushed voice next to his ears. Each and every syllable Solon spoke was no different from the most potent of poisons, but Miklan did not know he was making a deal with the devil himself.
He was too desperate and pitiful to think otherwise.
"All you have to do is get me the blood of someone who possesses the Gautier Crest. You have two choices, young man. Pick your favorite. I shall await good news from you."
The world around them melted and swirled, blending everything into a purple vortex. Solon stepped inside, disappearing into the void as a flash of light blinded Miklan's eyes. By the time he opened his eyes, the magic chains around him had dissipated into thin air. Nothing remained of the mysterious old man. It was like everything was just an illusion — some sort of self-indulgent dream he had spun up.
But the pain remained where the bindings used to be. Miklan stood up on his feet, the Lance of Ruin in hand. He stared at the abominable stone in the center, baring his fangs.
His demonic laughter mingled in with the cracking thunderstorm outside, the streaks of light casting a dark, beast-like shadow behind him.
"Just you wait, brother. I will take everything back from you, leaving nothing but bone and ashes. Mark my words."
"So, it has come down to this…"
Dimitri sat at his desk, chin on his folded hands, sharp blue orbs narrowed to death. Ingrid stood behind him next to Dedue, both looking grim. Felix leaned against the wall next to them, eyes shut tight.
Satiana lingered behind the group, darting her head back and forth between each individual. She placed her hands on her hips, frowning at the tensed air permeating the group. "Why's everyone looking like they're at a funeral so early in the morning?" She waved her hand around in the air, brushing imaginary dark swirls of tension away from her face with a grimace. "Did something happen while I was at the infirmary for a check-up?"
Ingrid stared at her, eyes dazed. "I'm sorry, Satiana. The professor just briefed us about our next mission for this moon."
Satiana blinked. "Oh? But why the dark mood?"
Ingrid glanced away from Satiana. She fixated her gaze outside the window, refusing to answer the question. Clutching her arm with one hand, she sighed, shoulders drooping.
Her actions only made Satiana tilt her head to the side with a frown. "Uh, guys? Seriously, what's wrong? I was joking when I said this was like a funeral, but did someone really die or what?"
Dimitri spun in his seat, turning to address Satiana with a tired smile. "Pardon me for the late explanation. Our mission for this moon is to eradicate a few bandits roaming in Kingdom territory."
"Okay, that doesn't sound so different from our first task in Zanado." Satiana crossed her arms over her chest. "So why, well, this?" She twirled her index finger in lieu of more words.
Dimitri hesitated, biting his lips as the words refused to escape from his mouth. He interlaced his hands together on his lap, eyes boring down at his own fist.
Satiana glanced at Dedue, who also turned away from her. Her eyebrows twitched, and she switched tactics. She headed over towards Felix and poked him right in the shoulder, glaring at him. "You. Tell me what's going on."
Felix spared her a quick glance, opening one of his eyes before he shut them again.
Satiana groaned as she yanked her hair in frustration. "Can someone just tell me what's going on already?!" She whirled around, spreading her arms wide in dismay. "This atmosphere is suffocating as hell and I can't do anything about it if I don't know what's on your mind!"
Dimitri coughed into his fist. "I apologize. It's just hard to put it into words." Blue orbs flittered to the side again, much to Satiana's frustration. "As I said, the mission will occur in Kingdom territory. To be more specific, it has to do with Gautier territory."
"Gautier territory? Isn't that way up north?" Satiana tapped her feet impatiently as she waited for Dimitri to continue.
Except he didn't. He clammed up again, hands shivering.
Fucking hell.
Satiana scowled. "Okay, fine, I guess I'm not welcome. Whatever. So we just need to kill a bunch of bandits, right? Easy enough." She rolled her eyes before she trod towards the exit of the classroom. "I still don't understand what's going on…" she mumbled as she kicked a random pebble along the way, rearing around the corner.
She barely made it out of the courtyard before a hand yanked her back by the shoulders. She was caught unprepared and yelped, feeling her feet stumble as gravity took hold. Her back collided against a solid chest, and she spun around to meet the intruder with a nasty glare. "What the hell was that for?"
Felix winced, a permanent scowl etched on his face. "You're being way too loud!"
Satiana swatted his hand away from her shoulder and took a step back, lips puckering outward. "It's not like I want to be loud, but everyone's just trying to keep me out of the loop and I don't understand what I'm doing wrong."
Felix let loose a weighty sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You did nothing wrong. Everyone's just…sensitive."
"Ah, yes, sensitive," Satiana imitated, blowing air up at her bangs in frustration. "I'm not blind, Felix. I can see that," she deadpanned. "But I need an explanation why everyone is so tense."
"Like the boar said, this mission concerns Gautier territory," Felix spoke gravely. "Do you still not understand what that means?" He stared at her in disbelief. "So you really lost all your brain cells after that concussion."
Her eyes flashed predictably. "Screw you, Felix."
Felix ignored her rude retort, clicking his tongue. "It's Sylvain's home," he gave in, glaring at the floor. "Gautier territory is where Sylvain lives and, if things go according to plan, he will become the next Margrave."
Satiana froze. "Oh shit, right. I forgot."
Felix snorted. "Yes, you did."
"But that still doesn't explain everything." Satiana cocked her head to the side in inquiry. "There's nothing wrong with having bandits in one's territory. Hell, Fodlan has always been a dangerous place. Thieves run rampant all year long."
"You're right. It's not the bandits themselves that are troubling," Felix said, baritone voice sinking deeper. "It's their leader's presence that is throwing everyone off."
"Their leader?" Satiana mused, rubbing her nose. "Who is it? Is he some infamous thief?"
There was a heavy silence between them as Felix chose his words carefully. "He is infamous, but not for the reason you think," he started, copper-brown orbs quivering. "He's well-known throughout Gautier territory because he used to be a noble. A disowned son of a high prestige house, to be exact."
"A disowned son?" Satiana narrowed her eyes. "So he's trying to take revenge against the family who threw him away?"
Felix remained silent this time, returning to the stone-cold facade.
Satiana continued to drown in her thoughts. "Hm, so he used to be a noble, huh? But that's strange. There aren't that many noble houses in Gautier territory," she blabbered under her breath, forehead creasing further. "Most of them are minor lords and the one who rules them all is Margrave Gautier, Sylvain's father—"
Her jaw snapped shut with an audible click. She floundered inside, not knowing what to do with the newfound knowledge prickling her conscience. She stared at Felix, horror dawning, pleading for help with her eyes, hoping that he would tell her it was all just a sick joke.
But Felix was always dead serious. He had no sense of humor and Satiana knew that better than anyone else.
"Fuck." The profanity escaped from her lips, breathy and hollow. "Fucking hell." She clutched her head, hands trembling. "Why is this happening to us? Only a single moon has passed since we finished that vendetta with Ashe and his adoptive father. Just…why?!" she raised her voice, realizing the damning fact the Blue Lions would have to deal with.
They were being ordered to kill their friend's brother. No wonder everyone looked like they were half-dead inside the classroom.
She gritted her teeth, temper flaring, dark blue orbs burning at the edges. "Goddamn it all," she scowled, stomping her feet against the cobbled tiles. "Even Ashe still hasn't recovered yet and now we have to deal with this?!"
"There's nothing we can do," Felix's voice remained steadier than he thought it would. "It might be hard for that idiot, but we have to kill him."
"What?!" Satiana whipped her head to meet Felix's steely gaze. "Are you seriously saying that, Felix? We already killed Ashe's dad and now we have to kill Sylvain's brother!"
"Yes, we do," Felix mumbled. He clenched his fists, glaring at his own hands. "If you or that idiot won't, then I'll kill that bastard myself."
Satiana jerked her head back, a dazed look flashing over her face. Her brows drew together as she observed Felix in silence.
Knowing him, Felix always seemed to have more to say than others, especially when it involved the act of killing. He used to sneer at her assassin roots, even calling her akin to a blood-thirsty beast the first time they argued with each other. But now, he wasn't even batting an eye at the thought of killing Sylvain's brother. No, he was absolutely livid, trembling with anger, and was that a hint of anticipation she saw flickering in her eyes?
Something was wrong. Dimitri and everyone's actions aside, even Felix was acting strange compared to usual, and he was the most consistent person Satiana knew. If the thought of eliminating Sylvain's brother made him this excited, she didn't want to know what he would do on the battlefield.
Satiana took a step forward, dissecting Felix's demeanor with her vision, a permanent frown etched onto her face. She held a fist to her chest, worry filling every inch of her darkening blue orbs. "Felix? What's wrong? You're not acting like your usual self."
Felix released the death grip he had on his palms, unfolding his fist. He refused to meet her gaze, shifting sideways. "You're imagining it."
"No, I'm not," Satiana said, taking another step forward, almost invading his personal space. She stuck her face up at him, staring unflinchingly. "It's not like you to be so worked up like this. What's going on here?"
Felix leaned away from her face, scowling. "Get away from me."
But when it came to stubbornness, Satiana wouldn't lose to anyone. Even the most unmoving boulder in all of Fodlan. "Not until you tell me what's wrong with you." She pushed further, taking another step forward.
He slid back, eyes darting off to the side. "I told you, it's nothing!" He yelled as he scraped a hand through his hair. "Just forget I said anything."
"Mhm, because I can totally just pretend I heard nothing." Satiana rolled her eyes, taking a step back after realizing her tactic wasn't working.
Felix's shoulders drooped at her retreat, a sigh of relief escaping from his lips. He bounced his leg, threading his fingers through his unkempt bangs. "Look, just go check up on that idiot, will you?" He sounded weak — much weaker than she ever heard him. He was almost pleading at her with his drooping gaze, voice hoarse and dry.
She didn't like the look on his face and definitely not the shaky demeanor he was emitting. Felix was never one to be distraught. He always had this air of confidence and brazenness. But now, the man standing in front of her was reduced to a mere shadow of himself.
Satiana's concern multiplied tenfold, his anxious behavior now mirroring her own as she bit her lips. "Felix, you really don't look well."
"I can imagine so," Felix replied flatly.
Satiana exhaled, rubbing her arm. "Fine," she yielded after a minute of silent confrontation, though the frown was still on her face. "I won't bug you anymore, but take my concerns seriously. I know something's bothering you. It doesn't have to be me. Go talk to someone about it, okay?"
Felix didn't reply, only giving her a curt nod. He grunted as he briskly brushed past her shoulders, hands tucked inside the pockets of his pants. He disappeared around the corner, leaving Satiana to wallow in the sinking feeling inside her stomach.
His arms struggled against the claim of icy waters. He refused to let go, flailing against the freezing, rushing waves. The pressing down of lungs that suddenly needed to breathe more than ever. The confusion and disorientation of shattered light, murky and filled with floating specks. His snot melted in with the muddied water creeping up his nostrils, fat blobs of tears disintegrating into the bubbles.
He still remembered how he got there.
It started off on a normal day in Gautier territory. His brother asked to accompany him up the mountainside for a walk. It was the first time Miklan ever invited him anywhere. His young, pure heart yearned for his brother's love, and he genuinely believed he would receive it.
Miklan had a kind smile on his face — one Sylvain thought fit him quite nicely. It wasn't a toothy, childish grin. It was simply…endearing. He looked softer with a smile on his face. His face wasn't marred with the scar that sectioned his face back then.
Sylvain loved his brother. No matter what lies he told himself to sleep at night, he would always reach the same conclusion. Even if he had to face that signature irritable glare and look of disgust, Sylvain would smile warmly at his big brother. Even after a whip or a kick to the stomach, he would continue to bounce after his brother's trail.
Because Sylvain Jose Gautier was incapable of hating anyone but himself.
When they reached the deep, mossy well in the forest, Sylvain jumped onto the edge, peering into the darkness below. He laughed at Miklan for taking him to such a secluded and dreary place for their first outing together. He made fun of his brother, cheeks flaring red underneath the cold winter of Faerghus, but also from an overwhelming surge of anticipation.
Miklan walked up to him, smile warping into a full-blown grin. But there was nothing kind about his gaze. Not anymore.
His world tumbled upside down, fragile body flailing in the air as a strong shove plunged him into the never-ending darkness below. He remembered reaching his hand out for his dear brother, scream barely registering in his buzzing ears, eyes swelling with tears.
Even with his blurred vision, he could still glimpse the empty spot above the edge of the well and his brother's receding back. The red strands of hair vibrantly shone against the snow, the heavy contrast a burning memory in Sylvain's mind.
They shared the same color of red, whether it was hair or blood. But their hearts did not beat the same shade.
His cry for help ricocheted off the walls of the well, drowned out by the winter storm above as he sank into the water.
And in his dreams, Sylvain continued to sink. A heavy anchor was tied to his ankles, always dragging him down into oblivion. He could never breathe underwater, but years spent reliving his nightmare made him immune to the descent. He would continue to float, struggling against the tide, but never making it to the surface.
The light was always out of reach.
Only the darkness welcomed him.
There was a distant echo ringing in his ears. Sylvain opened his eyes. He reached towards the blinding light above the murky water. Bubbles fluttered out of his gaping lips. He gasped for air, yearning to breathe.
The light was so close, yet so far.
The voice grew louder and the world around him shook. The well shattered, breaking into a gazillion shards. The water drowning him evaporated into thin air, leaving him stranded in a lonely world — a pure white, endless sea of emptiness.
He woke up to the sound of desperate pleading. The sound of being loved and cared for.
It wasn't his brother's voice.
"Oh my god, you're finally awake!"
Sylvain rubbed his post-sleep eyes, yawning as he stretched his arms above his head. He wiggled the blankets off with a few shakes of his leg. The blanket slid off the bed, landing on the carpet below. He blinked away the remnants of sleep, staring blankly at the black-haired girl in front of him.
He grinned. "Oh! Good morning, Satiana. What brings you to my humble abode today? Did you not get enough of sleeping in my bed because I would be happy to have you back in my embrace—"
He wasn't sure what compelled her to do so, but Satiana threw herself at him, suffocating him under her warm hug. She squeezed him, digging her head into the crook of his neck.
Sylvain's brain short-circuited. His mind could not catch up with the sheer incredulity of the event unfolding in front of his eyes. He tried to lift his back up from the bed, but Satiana moved her leg over him, locking him into position.
Sylvain didn't know how to react to her behavior and settled on trusting his instincts. He weaved his hand through her ponytail, patting her back with the other hand. "Uh, Satiana? What's wrong?"
She sniffed once and Sylvain broke a sweat, panic settling inside of him. He yanked her off him with sturdy arms, holding her by the shoulder. He finally glimpsed at her expression and holy hell, did she look terrible.
Satiana's eyes were red in the corners, as if she had been crying for hours. Her mouth quivered, brows creasing deep with worry. The dark blue orbs were dull, barely giving off any shine against the bright rays of the sun outside his window.
He frowned. "Okay, seriously, what's wrong?"
Satiana gripped her hand tightly, lips wobbling as she tried to speak. "You weren't breathing."
Sylvain blinked. "What?"
"I said you weren't breathing."
"That makes no sense. I'm alive and breathing right now."
"Yes, but just now, you weren't."
"Oh. Well, this is awkward."
Satiana went silent. Sylvain released his grip on her shoulders and scratched his cheek awkwardly, glancing away from her. A momentary peace enveloped the two, the sound of birds chirping outside in the afternoon sun barely keeping Sylvain's sanity intact.
It was the usual for him. Waking up from a nightmare. Reliving his memories. Most of the girls he brought back to his room knew about this habit of his. Sylvain always brushed it off as a unique bodily function; he joked about it all the time with the girls in town, saying that he would jerk awake at random times during the night because his body was signaling him to relieve his pent-up stress.
But he wouldn't use that old excuse on Satiana. Not her. She deserved better than his stupid lies and smiley facade.
"So, how do I explain this?" Sylvain trailed off into a laugh at the end, sweat dripping down his forehead. "I get these nightmares often. You don't have to worry about me. I'm used to it now. Nothing dangerous."
Satiana didn't move from her spot on Sylvain's bed. She refused to budge, tired eyes boring into Sylvain's soul. He drowned in them, the reflection of his own weary face inside those blue orbs — a mirror.
His eyes twitched, and he leaned against the wall next to him, sighing. He rustled the unkempt strands of his sticky hair; the action distracting him from more morbid thoughts filling his hollow self.
"You shouldn't get used to it, Sylvain. It's never good for you."
Sylvain's lips curved up into a wry smile. "Of course you would know, huh?"
Satiana rubbed her hands, frowning. "I don't dare to assume what you're going through, but I have my share of traumatic experiences. Although I don't think my body actually stops breathing because of them."
"Good for you. You're getting better, Satiana." He reached his hand over towards her and patted her head, transferring every bit of warmth remaining in his body to her. Nimble fingers folded a strand of hair behind her ears. He smiled affectionately at her. "Geez, what's with that look on your face? You look much better when you smile, you know that?"
Satiana placed her hand on his, dragging it down into her lap. "Sylvain, I don't need your fake smiles and comfort. Even without them, just you being there for me is more than enough."
Sylvain's smile faltered for a split second, honey-brown irises gaining a golden gleam. "Since when did I worm my way into your heart, hm?"
"You know that's not what I mean, Sylvain." Satiana rolled her eyes, exhaling in exasperation. "I'm glad you're there for me, especially when I argue with Felix. You just know best how to comfort someone who's feeling down."
"Well, what can I say? That's what I do best." Sylvain flashed her a wink, but his smile was growing thinner after every passing second.
"Sylvain, you don't need to force yourself to smile all the time. I broke down in front of you twice, but you won't allow yourself to do the same to me. That's kind of unfair."
Sylvain laughed, the sound breathy in both of their ears. "Hey, I still have an image to keep, you know?"
"I know, but I don't like it."
Sylvain shrugged. "Well, you do you."
Satiana closed her eyes. "Fine. Have it your way. You don't need to tell me anything. Just know that Felix was the one who sent me here."
Sylvain leaned away from the wall, brows arching high. "Felix? Why would he do that?"
"Because our next mission involves your family and Felix is worried about you, but being the nasty, dishonest man he is, he sent me here instead."
Sylvain snorted, plopping himself back down onto the bed. "That sounds like him alright." He folded his hand behind his head, crossing his legs on the bed. "So, what did he do this time?"
Satiana peered down at him with something akin to surprise registering in her eyes. "You know who I'm talking about?"
Sylvain glanced off to the side, an obvious frown now on his face. "If there's someone causing trouble in my family aside from me, it can only be my brother."
"And you're…okay with that?" Satiana chewed over her words, nose crinkling.
Sylvain closed his eyes and sighed, chest heaving up and down rhythmically. "Yes, he deserves every punishment possible. He's beyond saving."
Satiana crossed her arms, eyes flashing knowingly. "You're lying."
Sylvain snapped his eyes open and smirked at her, but nothing about him seemed gloating. "You and your oh-so-holy insight."
"I may not have known you long, but I know you're not capable of hating someone from the bottom of your heart," Satiana said, eyes narrowing. "I don't know what went wrong between you and your brother, but I hope you don't have any lingering regrets like with Ashe and Lord Lonato."
"Regrets, huh?" Sylvain mumbled. He scoffed, a cynical sound escaping from his lips. "We've long crossed over that border. He and I can never see eye to eye. It's impossible."
"How do you know that? I don't want to scratch your ego, but you kind of have a talent for words, Sylvain. Why not use that tongue of yours to convince your brother otherwise?" Satiana suggested. "Talk it over with him once. If it's for you, I'll risk getting scolded by Byleth again. Maybe I can take you to your brother's hideout now—"
"Never."
It was only one word of refusal, but he spat it out so harshly with such finality Satiana jerked her head back in surprise. It was only for a split second, but there was the same bite behind his remark as Felix had earlier. His usual sunny brown orbs were icy cold, dark like polished coal, and it shook her to the core.
She didn't like this look on his face. Sylvain just wasn't…suitable for such hatred and bitterness.
"...Why?" Her curiosity took over and Satiana blurted out the question she longed to receive an answer to — the answer Felix refused to give her.
Sylvain's blank eyes met her quivering gaze. "Because he'll try to kill me, just like the past hundred times."
Her mind went white. There were so many words she had prepared in her head to convince him otherwise. She thought Sylvain was being stubborn because he was afraid to confront his brother. She thought maybe they clashed a few times, argued over some things, and fought often as children. Maybe he just didn't know what to say to his brother to make up for their fights.
It all clicked into place, the nightmares he survived through. How his body forgot to breathe. Her heart sank, shattered into a million irreparable pieces. The afternoon breeze brushed at Satiana's face through the slightly open window and she wished the wind could blow it all away. The aching hurt, the band too tight about her chest.
"Oh, Sylvain," was all she said after a pregnant pause.
There were no words of comfort she could give him. This wasn't the kind of pain she could help him brush away. This was something more…personal. A deep wrench inside his soul that will never go away, even if the passage of time worked its magic. The memory will always remain, like a nasty scar. And looking at his own reflection in the mirror would only remind him daily of his own flaws.
His failure to be loved by his one and only brother.
Sylvain's hand twitched in her lap, their fingers interlacing. Sylvain tugged her forward, a forlorn smile on his face. "Didn't I tell you, Satiana? You look much better with a smile on. Not with tears in your eyes."
Indeed, she felt the familiar sting of water in her eyes. But she didn't mind it this time. She wasn't shedding tears for herself, but for someone else for the first time in her life. "I thought I told you to stop it with the flirting, Sylvain. Now isn't the time for that," she scolded, nose reddening.
Sylvain rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. Also, I'm not flirting with you. If I was being serious, you would cry for me because of a totally different reason."
Satiana whacked him in the head, the suggestive innuendo making her scowl in distaste. "You are seriously the worst man in all of Garreg Mach." She paused, frowning instead. "Actually, forget that. You're a good person, Sylvain. But you suck sometimes."
Sylvain laughed out loud this time, the sound light and feathery. "Don't worry. I know that better than anyone else."
Satiana glared at him. "You told me to stop it with the cynical thoughts so I can tell you to do the same. Stop it, Sylvain."
A lop-sided, nonchalant grin made its way up onto his handsome features. "Yes, sister. Your brother will always heed your command."
At this remark, Satiana blanched, gagging. "Oh my god, I do not want a brother like you, Sylvain."
Sylvain shrugged. "But I want a sister like you. Cute, honest, and emotional. Felix used to hit me for this, but I consider him like my younger brother, too."
"Yes, I can imagine him trying to cut off your head for saying so," Satiana deadpanned.
The conversation lapsed into a lull. Satiana stared out the window, eyes lazily traversing the blue skies above. Sylvain breathed, a shadow of a smile on his face as he glanced over her form, glowing almost tangibly golden.
There was a reason he had grown to enjoy her company. She never pushed him to speak his mind. Even if she knew he was lying right through his teeth, she didn't force him to undo his mask, simply throwing a few scoldings here and there.
This was what he liked most about her. It was the same quality that drew him to befriend Felix and treat him like a younger brother. Felix would kill him if he ever mentioned this, but Sylvain truly believed Felix and Satiana were two peas from the same pod. They were both a ball of raging emotions inside, beasts with the sword, and yet so kind. They gave him space to breathe — like oxygen — in this cruel, judgmental world that tried to suffocate him with every move he made.
They cared for him despite knowing his ugly, hidden side. He could never say it properly, even with his talented flowery tongue, how much he appreciated their existence. Satiana came much later than Felix, but he considered her a close friend of his, someone he might one day let slip inside the cracks of the foundation of his life that were shattered by the ever-present self-hatred inside of him.
If there was someone who knew how he felt, it would be her, and vice versa.
"He's hated me ever since I was born," he found his tongue loosening, the words slipping out of him.
Satiana remained silent, but acknowledged his presence with a quiet hum.
"Miklan was the heir to our house before I came around. I was born with the Crest of Gautier. He wasn't. After that day, my parents treated me as if I was king of the world. They neglected him, pushed him to the side, and placed me on a pedestal instead of him. I stole everything from him, simply because I was born. It's not hard to imagine why he grew to loathe me to the point of wanting to kill me."
Satiana shifted on the bed, turning to face his brooding expression.
"I know it's not really my fault. Even so, it hurts." Sylvain flipped to his side on the bed, facing the wall. "Every time he punched me, kicked me, tried to harm me, I wouldn't resist. Because I still loved him. He's my family, no matter what he does."
His shoulders quivered, voice breaking at the edges. He swallowed once, breathing shakily. "My parents don't love me for who I am. They just see me for my crest. My one and only brother hates me enough to try to kill me. And all the girls in Fodlan want to marry me so they can elevate their status. Sometimes, I wonder who or what I'm even alive for."
Satiana reached her hand over towards his shuddering frame and rubbed soothing circles on his back.
"I hate them all. But I also love my family. So I chose to hate myself instead. For being born lucky, even though my life has been hell because of this goddamn crest." Sylvain paused, voice lowering as he muttered under his breath. "If only this world was ridden of this stupid crest system."
Satiana froze. She drew her hand back, clutching it in front of her chest.
There it was again, the notion of crests being the greatest evil of the world. Edelgard, Lysithea, and now even Sylvain himself had made it clear to her. The presence of crests made up the hierarchy of their society — the corrupted pyramid that destroyed the lives of both those who possessed riches and those who were deprived of opportunities.
And indeed, it was the Church of Seiros that allowed this system of valuing crests to sustain itself. Because Fodlan's history was intricately woven in with the Goddess and her children's actions to save the world from evil. No one could go against them, for it would be the same as pointing one's sword in the direction of the Goddess who saved the land.
She had already witnessed one of this system's greatest failure with Lord Lonato. She had already survived through one such hell herself. But a part of Satiana could not will herself to antagonize the Church.
"Do you think that eradicating this world of crests will bring the peace you yearn for?" Satiana asked.
Sylvain flipped back towards her, frowning. "What's with that loaded question?"
Satiana's expression thinned. "I just…I've heard many people say that. How crests destroyed their lives. I mean, I'm a victim of this so-called crest-ridden society myself." She clutched the front of her shirt. "But sometimes, I feel like it's not the crests themselves that caused us to suffer. True, this hierarchy of crest-bearers having their status elevated is kind of dumb because people should be judged by their skills and talent, not because of some inherited factor."
Blue eyes narrowed, a scowl making its way up onto her face. "But in the end, isn't it human greed that lends itself to such tragedy? Yes, the crests are a large part of it, but who's to say people don't inherently try to step on others, anyway?"
Sylvain stared at her, dumbfounded. "Wow, that was way too philosophical for my liking." A grimace emerged on his features. "How did my heartfelt confession lead to such a heavy topic of discussion?"
"Sorry, it's nothing. I just have a lot of things on my mind lately." Satiana pulled one knee up, resting her chin on top, sighing. "Sylvain, this is going to sound idiotic, but one day, I hope you realize that even in this so-called disgusting world, there are people who make it worthwhile to live in." She spared him a glance. "Like how you are to me."
Honey-brown orbs widened, the golden light dancing within them. "That is probably the sweetest thing I've ever heard in my whole life, Satiana."
She huffed, lips pursing. "I'm being serious, Sylvain. My whole life has changed after meeting you and Felix. Also the rest of the Blue Lions. My time here has been very fulfilling and…eye-opening. I still have a lot to learn alongside you guys, whether it's about this world or myself."
She tilted her head, plastering her cheek against her knee, closing her eyes. "If I can learn to forgive myself, then so can you. No matter what you tell yourself, please believe that it isn't your fault for being born into this world. Your existence matters."
Sylvain didn't reply. He closed his eyes as well, mirroring her actions, drowning in the warmth of sunshine and her kind words. He exhaled, the sinking feeling inside his stomach dissipating. A soft smile made its way up onto his face.
"Satiana?"
"Hm?"
"...I'm glad I met you too, sis."
"Shut it, Sylvain."
"I'm sorry. What did you just say?"
Felix was always a man of combative nature. Combined with his often rude tongue, he had found himself in a static confrontation with almost everyone on campus before. But even he knew better than to lash out against a professor — especially the one in charge of his class. He could never beat her in combat, at least not yet, and he didn't want to rile her up on purpose.
But this didn't concern him. It concerned his friends. Two of them, if he was being honest with himself.
Byleth folded her arms across her chest, jerking her chin up in the air as she peered down at Felix's raging form. "As I said, I am not bringing Sylvain or Satiana along on this excursion. That decision is final." The words flew out of her mouth, hard and authoritative. "The bandit's leader is his blood and flesh. After what happened with Ashe, I refuse to inflict the same sort of position on Sylvain."
Felix laughed out loud at her remark, but there was nothing humorous about it. He was livid, fangs baring as a nasty sneer made its way up onto his twitching face. "That isn't for you to decide, professor. Sylvain is the one who gets to choose whether he wants to join this mission."
"I'm afraid you're wrong there, Felix. I am the one in charge of you all and with his best interest in mind, I believe he should sit out of this mission." Byleth remained unfazed under Felix's scrutinizing glare.
The rest of the Blue Lions stood awkwardly to the side of the entrance hall. Annette and Mercedes were huddled up in the corner, afraid of the escalating conflict between the two in a stand-off in the center of the room. Ashe had a conflicted expression on his face as he stood beside the stone-faced Dedue. Ingrid held Felix back by the shoulder with a frown, while Dimitri stepped up between the two of them with his hands spread out.
"Alright, let's calm down for a moment, shall we?" Dimitri frowned. "I understand both of your opinions. But the professor speaks the truth when she says it is in Sylvain's best interest to—"
"Hah!" Felix shook Ingrid's grip off his shoulders, snarling. "Stop talking nonsense, boar. The only person who can decide what to do after this is that dolt himself. He's already had enough of people controlling him because they think they know what's best for him. Piss off."
Dimitri's brows twitched violently. Felix was his best friend and that fact would never change, but even he did not possess an extensive well of patience. Dimitri sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Felix, just calm down. Please. I know you're angry for his sake, but listen to reason for once."
Felix snorted, jerking his chin off to the side in defiance. "I don't need you to tell me that of all people, boar prince. I know what I'm doing."
"Clearly, you do not, Felix!" Ingrid scowled, yanking him back by the shoulder. She spun him around to face her, glaring daggers at him. "You are overstepping your boundaries here, Felix. Do you think the professor actually wants to control Sylvain like you think she does? Listen to yourself speak for once!"
"I admit, I don't," Felix scoffed, swatting her hand away again for the second time that afternoon. "But I know she wants to keep her little sister locked up in her room."
At this remark, even the usual stoic professor's mask slipped. Her expression hardened, cerulean orbs darkening. A hint of her menace seeped out into the aura surrounding her. "Felix, mind your words."
Felix froze for a split second underneath her stare, but his lips eventually slanted up into a smirk. "Did I hit a nerve, professor?" He snorted. "So I am right. You just want to keep Sylvain and Satiana out of the loop because you're worried they'll be reckless."
"If you understand, then why are we arguing here in public?" Byleth tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
"Because it's not right," Felix continued, glare smoldering. "I understand your concerns. But this matter directly involves Sylvain. He has the right to decide for himself what to do from now on. Did you forget what you taught us? You were the one who advocated for us to make decisions for ourselves on the battlefield. Are you turning back on your words now because you can't control your emotions, professor?"
Byleth tensed up, expression freezing. "What?" Her voice was uncharacteristically breathy, filled with genuine surprise.
Felix stared knowingly at her. "Your mask has been slipping as of lately, professor. It's obvious you're being overprotective of your little sister after what she has gotten herself into lately. And now you're projecting your concerns on Sylvain. But let me tell you something."
Felix took a confident stride forward, shoving himself right into Byleth's comfort zone. He glared into her wavering cerulean orbs. "You can't stop those two from doing what they need to do. Even if it puts them in danger, they are your students first and foremost. You wouldn't want to rob them of the opportunity to learn, would you?"
Byleth went silent. The entire room lapsed in tensed silence, the stand-off between Byleth and Felix continuing for an entire minute. To everyone's surprise, it was Byleth who gave in first.
"Since when did you learn to speak so eloquently, Felix?" There was a slightly amused sparkle in her eyes. Accompanied by the upward twitch of her lips, Felix knew she was mocking him in her own way.
Felix backed away from her, scowling in distaste. "I've been forced to practice my linguistic skills lately because of a certain idiot who won't listen to anything. Let's just say my practice has been paying off…unfortunately," he ended with a grimace.
Byleth chuckled, shaking her head in exasperation. "I can imagine so."
Dimitri and the rest of the crew shared confused glances. Ingrid was the one who mustered up enough courage to address the elephant in the room. "Uh, professor?" She raised her hand meekly, sweating furiously. "So, have you two already made up? I'm not sure what's going on."
Byleth blinked, turning Ingrid with a blank expression back on her face. "Forgive me," she coughed once into her first. "I am not angry at Felix. I was simply…unnerved. Yes, if that is the right word for it." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "You have to admit, Felix has a habit of saying the right things in all the wrong ways."
Felix clicked his tongue before grunting as he snapped his head away from her bemused gaze.
"So, will you be taking back your decision, professor?" Dimitri asked, brows furrowed.
Byleth nodded. "Yes, I believe I will. Felix has opened my eyes to the truth with his…less than kind words."
Felix broke into a coughing fit, ears tinged pink.
Byleth ignored him and pressed on with her thoughts. "I have to admit, Satiana has worried me as of late with her history of recklessness. I could not allow her to involve Sylvain like what she did to Ashe. Hence why I placed both of them under house arrest."
Ashe perked up at his professor's words, eyes widening. "Professor, I have never once thought of Satiana that way. In fact, I believe she is my savior." He frowned as he fidgeted with his fingers. "If I did not meet Lord Lonato, I think I would have regretted it forever."
"Of course, I am aware of your feelings, Ashe," Byleth said with a nod. "However, it does not change the dangerous nature of your actions. I admit, I allowed you both to move freely because I did not want you to have lingering regrets. But seeing the state of your return…I couldn't help but feel like my method of teaching was mistaken."
All the Blue Lions froze at their professor's sincere confession. It wasn't often they were allowed a glimpse behind the stoic, cold-hearted professor's mask. Of course, they knew she cared about them deep inside, but she was never one for public or verbal displays of affection.
But here she was, speaking her true mind in front of them.
They felt proud. Somewhat elated. Their professor had grown attached to them to the point where their actions affected her ideals and beliefs. Of course, most of it had to do with the professor's close relationship with Satiana. Worrying over Satiana's safety ultimately meant she had to concern herself with the rest of the Blue Lion's well-being as well.
Still, they would allow themselves to gloat for once because they broke through the ashen demon's defenses, worming their way into her freezing heart.
"Professor, I do not think you were wrong with your decision back then," Annette spoke up with a proud smile. "In fact, I am glad I could learn under your leadership."
"I agree with Annie!" Mercedes chimed with a bright grin on her face. "Professor, please do not be so harsh with yourself. You have done plenty enough as our homeroom teacher."
"She's right," Ingrid added with a firm nod in agreement. "Your teaching methods are unorthodox. But I have learned a great deal under your command. It is inevitable for us to get hurt during missions, so please, do not worry too much. We respect and appreciate the amount of freedom you have given us. Few professors would've allowed us to make our own decisions and plan our own attacks."
"Professor, if you will allow me to tell you something," Dimitri spoke up, clearing his throat once. "You should not be ashamed of yourself for being emotional with your decisions. A leader should always make the most rational decisions. However, as you have mentioned before, I believe all of us want to follow a leader who is foremost human."
Byleth hummed. "I understand. It seems I still have much more to learn." She took a deep breath before continuing her train of thought. "I have changed my mind. It wouldn't be unfair to Sylvain and Satiana for me to decide for them. I will first listen to their plan of action and adjust our task accordingly. My paranoia has robbed me of the ability to objectively view the situation. Forgive me for my amateur mistake."
Dimitri smiled, nodding. "That is a wise decision, professor. And you have nothing to apologize to us for. It is clear now how much you care about our well-being. This time, I would like you to trust us." He glanced towards the rest of the Blue Lions, who nodded confidently in response. "Sylvain may act foolishly most of the time, but he is not careless. I am sure he knows better than to dive into his brother's lair without a well-crafted plan. Also, Satiana has already learned her lesson from the last time you scolded her during the rite. I believe she will consult you before acting this time."
"You're right," Byleth breathed. "This time, I will give her the benefit of the doubt." Then her expression went blank again. "But knowing her, she'll get herself into trouble, anyway. In that regard, perhaps it is best to keep her within arm's length at all times." She mused to herself, rubbing her chin in thought.
Dimitri chuckled dryly, sweatdropping. "Again…a wise decision."
"Hm? Your Highness?"
The sudden entrance of a new speaker turned the Blue Lion's attention to the newcomer. To everyone's surprise, Rodrigue strode down the entrance hall, cobalt-blue irises lighting up in recognition and a flash of pride. "Ah, it's been ages!" he exclaimed with a wide smile, robe fluttering behind his back.
"R-Rodrigue?" Dimitri's voice trembled with emotion, his posture straightening as he regarded Rodrigue with reverence and respect. "It's been a long time! Two years, if I'm not mistaken." His face brightened up, a giant grin hanging on his lips.
Rodrigue laughed whole-heartedly. "Indeed, your Highness. You've grown so much in those years. I hardly recognize you." Rodrigue's eyes were filled with nothing but adoration for the young man in front of him. He glanced over Dimitri's posture, nodding with admiration. "You look more and more like your father every day, Your Highness."
"Surely, you jest, Rodrigue." Dimitri shook his head with a wry smile. "I cannot ever compare myself to my father. He is still far beyond my reach."
Rodrigue beamed. "No, no, do not humble yourself. From my perspective, you look just as dashing as your father did during his academy days!"
Dimitri's cheeks reddened as he coughed into his fist, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Rodrigue, spare me the jokes, please."
"Haha, forgive me, Your Highness. This old man is simply delighted to see how well you've grown up," Rodrigue held in his laughter, but there was no denying the upward twitching of his lips. "Really, I am truly proud of you, Dimitri."
Dimitri scratched his cheek, glancing off to the side, ears now turning as red as his cheeks. "E-Enough, Rodrigue." Then he jerked up in realization, turning to address Byleth with a wave of his hand. "Oh, I almost forgot. Professor, meet Rodrigue, an old friend of my father's. I believe I've mentioned him before, if you recall?" He turned back to Rodrigue, eyes softening. "When my father passed away four years ago, he looked after me as though I were his own son. I can never thank him enough for his care."
"You flatter me, Your Highness. It was my honor to care for such a fine, young man," Rodrigue replied with a smile. Then he glanced at Byleth. Cerulean orbs clashed with cobalt-blue and they shared a knowing look, nodding curtly at each other. Rodrigue bowed in front of Byleth. "My name is Rodrigue Achilles Fraldarius. I have heard plenty about you from my son. It is an honor to meet you."
"Likewise, sir Rodrigue," Byleth replied flatly as she held her hand out in the air towards him.
Rodrigue responded by shaking her hand, completing their staged first meeting.
"What brings you here to the monastery, Rodrigue? Is it the thieves plaguing the Kingdom?" Dimitri asked with a frown.
Rodrigue tilted his head into his palm, sighing. "I'm afraid so. This is not merely a problem for House Gautier, but for everyone. The thieves have set up their headquarters in Fraldarius territory, and are mercilessly pillaging the villages of that area." His eyes narrowed as he looked over towards Byleth. "You have my full support in stopping those dastards. I thank you for your help, both of you."
"It's very unfortunate that things turned out this way." Dimitri gritted his teeth. "To think Miklan would one day resort to such atrocity."
Rodrigue eyed Dimitri with sympathy. "I understand how you feel, Your Highness. Miklan may not have been the most well-behaved child, but he was considered a part of your future support group. It is truly a pity things have turned out like this, though I suspected such behavior from him, eventually." Rodrigue shook his head lightly. "Unfortunate, really."
"If it was only catching a bunch of lowly thieves, you wouldn't need to come all the way out here to Garreg Mach," Felix intruded into the conversation, making his presence known to his father as he shot him a deadly glare. "Tell me, do you have additional agendas here, father?"
Rodrigue met Felix's confrontational gaze calmly, though there was no denying the way his expression hardened. "Ah, Felix. My son," he drawled, cobalt-blue striking against copper-brown. "So, you are here."
Felix snorted. "Where else would I be? So tell me, what are you actually here for?"
Rodrigue regarded his son with a discontented drip of his mouth. "Always the aggressive greeting, as usual, I see. Indeed, I have business with Lady Rhea and the rest of the church."
Dimitri raised his brow. "With Lady Rhea? Is something the matter?"
Rodrigue smiled in Dimitri's direction, but everything about it screamed fake to those in the know. "Nothing of your primary concern, Your Highness. I simply need to talk to her about potentially asking the Knights of Seiros for help."
"O-Oh, I see." Dimitri's expression drooped for a moment after hearing Rodrigue's dismissive tone. "Well then, I will let you on your way. It was a pleasure to meet you again, Rodrigue."
Rodrigue bowed. "Of course, Your Highness. I look forward to hearing of your accomplishments later." Then, he glanced towards Felix and beckoned with a small tilt of his head towards the courtyard. "You, young man, follow me."
"Hmph," Felix grunted in response, dragging his feet after his father, who brisk-walked out the arched exit of the entrance hall.
The rest of the Blue Lions crowded near each other, whispering in low voices.
"What was that about?" Ingrid frowned. "I've never seen sir Rodrigue in such a hurry before."
Dedue nodded. "It appears his actual business involves Felix."
Dimitri stared after their retreating figures, brows furrowing in thought. "Hm, it's not like Felix to obey Rodrigue's orders so easily without, you know, a protest or two."
Ingrid crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing. "You're right, Your Highness. Something is wrong. Knowing how Felix has been acting lately, the last thing he wants to do is talk with his father. So why the sudden compliance?"
Byleth nudged her way into the middle of the group, lightly pushing them towards the Dining Hall. "Sir Rodrigue probably just wants to catch up with his son, and vice versa. Let's leave those two to their business. For now, why don't we all grab a quick meal before heading back to class?"
The Blue Lions reluctantly nodded, muttering under their breath, imaginative explanations for Felix's odd behavior as they strolled into the dining hall, joining the raucous fray of chattering inside. Byleth halted in the middle of the doorway, glancing behind her back as she spotted Rodrigue and Felix rearing down the corner of the garden.
Cerulean orbs darkened, mouth dripping. "This doesn't bode well for us, does it?"
No one answered her rhetorical question, but invisible to everyone else's eyes, Sothis flew above her head, a distressed cry echoing down the now-empty hallway.