The day Felix killed his father was cloudy.
Winter storms graced Faerghus into the spring. It wasn't uncommon that winter winds would still blow as the Great Tree Moon turned to Harpstring. Snow was the land's hallmark, and it was wont to relinquish its grasp.
A blizzard had brewed, that day. Felix had caught glimpses of snow falling, a prelude to the storm he'd be riding through. Sylvain had given him a task: to ferry a message to Claude. And so, to that end, he made for Derdriu.
But the letter was not on his mind. Nor was the journey. No, what occupied his mind instead was a tense conversation with his father days before. Rodrigue had appealed to him in favor of Dimitri. Of reinstating House Blaiddyd as the head of the war effort. For the good of the realm.
Never mind Dimitri's complicated headspace, Felix could read between the lines of what that entailed. If Dimitri was to lead Faerghus, then the current leader would need to be disposed of. And Sylvain was far too competent to merely be done away with being sent away. He inspired too much loyalty to have the people accept it.
The truth no one wanted to admit was as clear as day: Faerghus had no future without House Gautier. Sylvain turned the remnants of a nation into something that could be called unified. Slowly, minor houses who had never liked House Blaiddyd joined their cause, much more enamored with a King Gautier. Reform was on the rise, something people were realizing they needed. Down with the old, up with the new.
Sylvain did not openly support such rumors, nor did he dissuade them. His gaze was focused on freeing his nation. If his leadership would make that feasible, then he would. It kept the man up at night, but it kept their position strong.
It was what Felix liked most about Sylvain, if he was being honest. The man rose to duty, and did what was required of him for the good of the realm. A patriot, through and through. It was a nobility that Faerghus should be. Would be, if they won.
His father was a clear sign that the nation had deep rooted problems. Rodrigue had asked Felix to do away with his husband in some way, to help reinstate Dimitri. The way he said it spoke of no doubt that Felix would do so.
Oh, how that had set him off. Felix was loath to get explosively angry with the hell of war around them, but it couldn't be helped in that moment. There was so much he'd wanted to say to the man who called himself his father.
"Admit it, you just want your real son on the throne," Felix seethed.
Rodrigue had balked at that, spitting denials, but Felix heard none of it. He'd known the state of affairs of his house for a long time. Glenn had been the favorite. And now that Glenn was gone, and Rodrigue left with the unfavored child, he latched onto Dimitri instead. For the realm, he'd claim.
Bullshit.
Felix was done trying to understand his father. He'd done no right by him, so the effort of understanding was time misspent. A father, so unfamiliar with love as to suggest Felix kill the man he loved.
Perhaps it was Sylvain being a man which spurred it. He'd never truly know, now.
He'd stared at his father when he stabbed him through the eye. He'd watched Rodrigue struggle and squirm. He'd listened to the disgusting things the man said about him as he called him traitor and worse.
And as the light left his other eye, Felix said to him as the last thing he'd hear, "You were a terrible father."
Rodrigue was dead and Felix made his escape, letting his soldiers find the body. As he walked away, he felt guilt. Not for what he did, but rather for how Sylvain would look at him after.
"I will be your shield, your sword, your eternal companion," Felix said in their wedding vows on the happiest night of his life. "I will protect you and defend you, and you will have my love for the rest of days."
He was a patricide, but he'd made peace with it. Or started to, at least. Family didn't make for always deserving of forgiveness. He'd always known that.
Felix had his own family now. That was enough for him.
"You really feel nothing?" Ashe asked.
Felix crossed his arms. "My father was not a good man. What is there to be bothered by?"
Ashe shifted uncomfortably while Felix continued to brush his horse in the stables. In truth, he'd been expecting this confrontation. With his permission, Sylvain had told Ashe and Ingrid as to the true nature of his father's murder. Given what Ashe had been through, Felix didn't fault him for the emotional appeal. Still, that didn't mean he enjoyed being preached to.
"I…I know you two had a complicated relationship," Ashe said. "And I know that he planned to…kill Sylvain." He closed his eyes, angry that he hadn't known. "Look, Felix, I'm just trying to say it's okay to feel pain. He was your father. You don't have to shut it out."
But he didn't feel it. "I killed a villain, that is the end of the story," Felix said. "Rodrigue was not the man your father was. Though I wish he had been." That last admission came quietly, something he'd always been jealous of.
Ashe sighed. "I know. Forgive me, I suppose I just find it hard to imagine a family dynamic so bitter."
"It wasn't always," Felix admitted. "When Glenn was alive, it was nice. I was never the favorite, but I loved my brother."
"A parent shouldn't have favorites," Ashe said, frowning at how Felix called that 'nice'.
"A good parent shouldn't," Felix said with a shrug, cutting Ashe off from pursuing that line of inquiry. "Regardless, I'm not bothered. My oaths, to my husband and to my country, are more important than family I cared not for."
"I understand," Ashe said. "Thank you for humoring me. Though, Felix?"
"Hm?"
"You shouldn't shut pain away. I know you're hurting, we can all see it," Ashe murmured. "That's what Dimitri did, never talk about it. I…I don't want to lose more friends."
Felix turned to him and saw a man similar to Leonie. Grieving, struggling, but still standing. His expression softened.
"Ashe…about Dedue…"
Ashe Lonato shook his head. "It wasn't your fault, Felix. I understand, and I won't hold it against you. But…please, I can't lose anyone else. Christophe, my father, Annette, Dimitri...Dedue, it's too much."
"You seem to be holding together, to me," Felix said, unsure what else to say. Dedue had been his fault.
"Does it seem that way?" Ashe murmured. "I'm inclined to disagree. I feel a hairsbreadth away from falling into a void. Like I might fall and never get back up. Perhaps this is what it feels like to be beaten…"
"We haven't lost," Felix said. "We're here, alive."
"We as a collective, haven't." Ashe smiled sadly. "But me? A brother, a father, both lost to me. Annette, a friend, taken. Dimitri, someone I believe in, gone. Dedue…a man I thought I could love, dead."
Felix's breath caught.
Ashe looked up to him with sad eyes, the kind that belonged to an old man in his twilight years. Not a scion who'd yet to reach his twenty-fifth year. "Felix, even if we win, I'm not sure there's much I've remaining to me. My family is all I have left, as are the scant few friends I've still got. I feel…tired." His last words bore such a weight to them that Felix felt like suffocating.
He pulled the man into his arms and hugged him. "Ashe…" he whispered, voice thick with the emotion he rarely displayed. "I am so sorry, for everything."
Ashe returned the hug. "I know. I would never hold it against you. I forgive you, if it helps."
Felix pulled back. "Why? Why would you forgive me? I killed our friend. I killed your…"
"Grudges don't help," Ashe said. He offered a small smile, though sadness was still in his eyes. "I held one against Byleth for so long…it consumed me. I like to think I've grown since then and come to understand the world better. Anger…it doesn't help us heal. Forgiveness, that's what keeps our heads high."
"You…" Felix began to say before falling silent. "Ashe, you're a good person."
"Am I?" he chuckled. "I try to be where I can. After so much war…I wonder if I could ever truly be one."
"You are," Felix asserted. "There is no debate to be had."
Ashe looked at him with surprise. "You know, Felix, you've changed since you were last here. For the better. Perhaps I was remiss in giving you advice about shutting emotions away."
Felix looked away. "Derdriu was…an enlightening experience."
That drew a laugh, a genuine one. "But you still shy away from things. I'm happy for you, Felix. That despite these horrible years, there's a light to come from it." His smile reminded Felix of better days. "You and Sylvain are what help me keep going. I want you to know that."
He didn't know what to say.
Ashe clapped him on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Felix. I'm happy you're with us, and my friend." With that, he left Felix alone in the stables, walking away.
As he watched him leave, Felix couldn't help but think Lonato would be proud.
The trip to Rowe, and by extension Arianrhod, was nigh. Felix and Sylvain laid in their bed, enjoying the few remaining moments they had in private before their march to the final battle began.
"You never told me about Derdriu," Sylvain whispered, holding Felix as they lay together. His forehead was pressed against the back of Felix's head. "How was everyone there?"
With everything regarding Dimitri, Felix had forgotten he'd not made mention of what had transpired save their victory. "Leonie's doing well," he said. "Better than she was, at least."
His husband hummed. "I haven't seen her in some time…that's a relief to hear. Last time was…four years ago?" Felix didn't need to see him to know his brow was furrowed. "Five?"
"Four," Felix answered. "The meeting at Daphnel."
"Right," Sylvain said with a chuckle. "How time has flown. Feels like just yesterday that we were at Garreg Mach…"
Felix only nodded in silent agreement.
"And the others?" Sylvain asked. "Did you see anyone else?"
"Ferdinand, he was injured. Should be fully recovered by now. And then Shamir was there too."
"Oh?" Sylvain said. "I didn't know she'd shown up again."
"I didn't ask for the story," Felix said.
"Of course you didn't," his husband teased. "Just you four were holding things together?"
"Five, a man named Balthus. But yeah, it was us against the Gloucester army."
Sylvain held him tighter. "I'll admit, from the reports I've read, I didn't think they could hold Derdriu with a refugee army. Not that I doubted their tenacity, but…"
Felix knew what he meant, that a group of untested people without much training wasn't a great set of odds.
He stood at the front of the army after they'd discovered Leonie's disappearance. Balthus was still searching, Shamir was trying to think up a plan. Ferdinand trying to give orders. So Felix did what he had to.
"She's given her all for you!" he screamed to the refugees. "Now's our time to give ours for her!"
He didn't remember any of the rest of what he said. It'd been a heated moment, one where he let emotion take over him. Felix had said what he felt.
"Leonie! Leonie! Leonie!"
The chanting, that he would never forget.
"Yeah," he said, to Sylvain, in the present. "But we did it."
Sylvain hugged him tighter, if possible. "I'm glad you came back to me, my love."
Felix turned to face his partner, kissing him in the short time they had before their departure.
Ingrid wore the dour look she'd adopted for the past few years. Not that Sylvain could blame her. It took all he had to keep his expression positive.
They road together in the back of the army, where they were most protected. Felix had been at his side as well, until Ashe called him away to help with something.
Sylvain spared a smile. It was good to have him back. Especially as they marched to Rowe.
Arianrhod…the last step in their battle for the country. Goddess, taking the impregnable fortress was going to be a war in and of itself. The rebels were likely holed up and well provisioned, making a siege a slow affair. It was the best idea he'd come up with.
If only Cornelia would hear of peace. For all he'd spent pondering it, Sylvain hadn't the slightest idea of what the woman actually wanted. Research into her past turned up nothing as to her motivations. She'd come to Faerghus from Adrestia and cured the epidemic within their nation. For that, she'd had the people's trust.
Some of his people who had firsthand accounts of those years said her personality changed after the plague. But try as he might, he couldn't find an explanation that made sense. Early in the war, he'd sued for peace. Cornelia had refused all his attempts, content with her chances with Rowe on her side.
So battle it would be. They'd be in for a long siege.
He pulled himself from his thoughts and glanced at Ingrid. She'd not been happy with him since their last conversation. Understandably so.
"So we just kill him, simple as that? Dimitri is our friend!"
"That man is a brother to me, do you think I fucking want to?"
"You have a hard time showing it!"
"There are more people in this kingdom than just the man you love!"
She'd slapped him. Hard. And they hadn't spoken since.
Sylvain opened his mouth to speak to her, but Felix chose that moment to ride up on his horse.
"Sylv, Ashe needs you to come weigh in on a supply line problem."
He nodded, sparing one last glance to Ingrid. She didn't seem to notice anything going on around her as he departed.
"Christophe, I hope you're proud."
Ingrid folded her arms, waiting for Ashe to finish his whispered prayer. She was loath to eavesdrop, but he'd been the one who invited her to his tent.
Ashe's eyes blinked open and he noticed her. "Oh, pardon. You got here sooner than I thought."
She shrugged. "It's fine. What did you want to see me about?"
He stood up from where he knelt and gestured to the chairs he had in his tent. She shook her head, silently declining. Ingrid didn't want to stay long.
"I just wanted to see how you were doing," Ashe said, quietly.
"With?" Ingrid asked, not wanting to talk about it.
The man frowned. "You know with what."
"I'm fine," she lied, and they both knew it.
Ashe rubbed his brow, sighing. "Look, Ingrid, I'm not going to make you talk about anything. I'm just trying to lend an ear if you need it. He was my friend, too."
"Was?" Ingrid caught, ire bubbling in her stomach.
"He got Dedue killed," Ashe said, as if that were enough of an explanation.
"Felix killed Dedue," Ingrid said, gritting her teeth.
"If that's what you believe from everything we've heard, then I think you're deluding yourself," Ashe said with uncharacteristic harshness. "What Felix did was an accident. What Dimitri's done has been by choice."
"You can't honestly believe that," she protested. "He's been through so much—"
"And so have I!" Ashe snapped.
Ingrid shut up, frozen in shock.
His eyes showed regret immediately, and he turned away. "I've lost a parent. I've lost a brother. I've lost plenty. If that's the justification we're giving him, then it sounds like I have your permission to let go of everything I hold dear."
"That's diff—"
"Please don't finish that sentence," Ashe whispered, not looking at her.
She chose not to.
"I thought I could have faith in him," Ashe admitted. "And maybe, in some way, I still do. But…well, even the most patient people wear down eventually." He chuckled, darkly. "You deserve better than him, Ingrid."
"He understood me like no one has, not since Glenn," Ingrid said, trying to control her anger.
Ashe shrugged helplessly. "And you don't think anyone else ever could? I want to help you, Ingrid. But if you don't want it, I'll stop trying. I can't manage speaking to a wall forever."
"I don't need help," she insisted. "I just want the man I love to come back."
Ashe nodded. "If that's what you want, I won't stop you. Maybe you're right, and I'm wrong to doubt him."
"Help me, Ashe," she said, taking her chance. "Together, we could convince him."
For a moment, Ashe looked like he wanted to agree. But he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I have to look out for what I have left. If I lose Sylvain or Felix…I don't know what I'll do."
He'd given up on her. She could see it. No matter what he said, he didn't believe in Dimitri. She scowled. "Fine. Do what you will. I will not lose another man I love."
She walked out of the tent. He watched her go.
"I want trenches dug there," Sylvain said, pointing, "and there. Quickly, lest they start firing on us."
"Yes, milord!" chorused the soldiers as the ran to set up for the siege.
Sylvain glanced at Arianrhod as he stood outside its walls, safe and away from where archers could hit. The Silver Maiden, never to have been breached by anyone. History was against them as they surrounded the city.
"I want archers staggered around the city," Sylvain continued to order. "Groups of three, watching for messenger birds. Make sure we have total coverage of the area."
"I'll make it happen," Ashe said, nodding. "Though we might only have enough for groups of—"
Sylvain glanced at Ashe, then followed his eyes to the gates of Arianrhod. The now open gates of Arianrhod.
A solitary man walked out of the fort, dressed in noble finery of House Rowe. He was a young man, one Sylvain recognized as Count Rowe's son. At his back, a grizzled knight, unarmed.
"Margrave Gautier!" yelled the nobleman, holding a white flag aloft in his hand. "I've come to parley!"
Author Notes: Welcome to the arc I've named Repatriation! Sorry if I'm not getting Ingrid spot on just yet. To this day, she's the last character of the cast that I struggle with understanding from the game. I don't really even know why it is I don't click with her, I just don't.
Editing Notes:
2/18/2022: Minor grammatical adjustments. Fixed continuity errors.