Request by NamiHatake
He didn't know how many enemies he had slain as he sat fatigued and breathing heavy in the midst of battle. He tugged his reins, turning to wave triumphantly to the apple of his eye when he spotted a figure behind her. Concealed in the brush there was a figure, shrouded in dark dark robes and waving their arms… oh no.
Before he could react the mage cast his spell, lightning dropping from the heavens to strike Byleth in the back, her eyes wide in quiet surprise before wilting shut. He didn't remember urging the horse forward but the gap between them shrank as he rushed to her aid. The robed figure was moving closer, the glint of a dagger glistening in his hand. Sylvain, no longer feeling the weight of fatigue on his body as adrenaline pumped through him demanding action, slung the heavy javelin over his shoulder and launched it forward with a painful snap. The man fell to his knees, but raised a shaking hand, his lips moving slowly as he recited an ominous chant
"I don't have time for this!" Sylvain cried out in frustration as his stead neared her limp body. He gripped the handle of his saddle and leaned hard to one side, the horse tilting with him, just enough to let his gloved fingertips skim across the ground. He winced in pain but he refused to recoil, grinding away at the leather until his fingers closed on her upper arm. Using both arms he pulled hard, pulling them both into the saddle with Byleth rested against his chest. He let out a sigh of relief, uncorking a vulnery with his teeth and pouring it down her throat, all the while struggling to steady the both of them as his stead charged wildly around the wounded mage. As the last of the potion disappeared down her throat he tossed the glass bottle aside and drew his lance, his other hand securing around Byleth's waist took hold of the reigns and steered the angry beast toward the source of their frenzy. He rose his lance as they charged, man and beast working together to avoid the rain of lightning crashing down around them, bounding into a glorious leap where Slyvain's lance sagged in his hand from the weight of contact. He withdrew the edge of his weapon with a hard yank before turning the stead the other way
"Ingrid! The professor has been injured, we're retreating!" He bellowed to the nearest comrade as they flew by, too desperate to hear her answer. He cursed himself as they raced to the healer's tent, wishing he had paid more attention to his studies in healing, but was calmed when she let out a small groan of discomfort
"Hang in there, you're not gonna die here, not before you let me take you on a real date." He gripped her tighter, slowing their speed as the healers drew closer
"You got her here just in time! Good instinct young lad!" An old healer praised him, patting his back as she was surrounded by a field of magic produced by several of the healers
"She'll be okay?" He was panting, fatigue aching finally through every muscle in his body as he slid frown his mount. The old woman laughed, clapping him hard on the back and sending him stumbling forward
"Your young general will be just fine lad! Thanks to you. I'll be sure to let her know." She winked before shuffling off to join her comrades who were moving Byleth to a tent
"She's not my young general, not yet."
His horse snorted at him in annoyance and the tired pair moved into the cover of the tents