Ingrid

Ingrid loved Glenn. He was strong and brave. Ever dutiful and loyal. A true knight, a respected noble. Everything she strove to become. She was betrothed to him from birth. Before she could even walk, talk, sit, stand, she was already promised to him. She admired him, looked up to him, and chose to love him, for it was her duty, as a noble, as a knight, as heir to her House.

But she also knew that she would be lying to herself, if she didn't admit that a small part of her also loved another—Sylvain Jose Gautier, heir to House Gautier of the Ten Elites, her best friend, and a noble pain in the ass. Sylvain was the exact opposite of Glenn. While Glenn was loyal and dutiful, Sylvain was unhinged and reckless. While Glenn was chivalrous and loyal, Sylvain was a troublemaker, always getting into messes for her to clean up. But Sylvain also had a big heart, which he wore on his sleeve, along with a bright smile that attempted to conceal years of trauma and sorrow. He was her best friend and she knew that behind every quip, every flirtation, every bright and mesmerizing smile, hid the pain of abuse that he had endured from his brother, the fear that he would never measure up as Margrave, the helplessness he felt for having his fate decided for him the moment he was born.

" When I was finally done grieving, you know what brought me back? My concern for you."

After Glenn died, Ingrid mourned. She locked herself in her room and cried, refusing to come out for anything, not even to take care of her horse or find comfort in her favorite meat dishes. She grieved the way a dutiful widow should. She loved Glenn, afterall; it was her duty to mourn him, to cry, to be sad for her betrothed. He was handsome and brave. He looked after her, protected her. She admired him, so very much, and he was taken from her way too soon.

When you're young everything feels like the end of the world. It's easy to put those you love on a pedestal. She couldn't understand why or how he died. In many ways, she had always felt that he was immortal. How could someone so strong, so skilled be killed. Alive, fighting for King and Country one second, then dead, nothing more than a corpse on the battlefield the next. It didn't make sense.

After Glenn died, Sylvain came to House Galetea to comfort her. He knocked on her bedroom door, only to be met with silence. She was too distraught, too sad to answer. He slumped against the door, head banging into the wooden frame as his body fell to the ground.

"Ingrid, I know you're in there. Talk to me… I know how hard this is for you… but I'm here. I'm here if you need to talk or… or a shoulder to cry on. Please just say something, so I know you're still alive in there…"

Sylvain was her best friend. Through thick and thin, they supported each other. Most of the time it consisted of her running one step behind him collecting his jar of hearts, picking up after the messes he'd made. But he had been there for her when it counted most. He was there for her when she had first learned to ride and fell off her pegasus. He backed her up when her father scolded her for being unladylike, and he was there for her as she mourned the death of her betrothed. She worried about him too. Worried that without her to clean up after him, he'd get into a mess that would cost him his life. She worried that in keeping her company and grieving with her, that he too wasn't eating or taking care of himself. He really was helpless and she loved him all the more for it, as troublesome as he was.

When Glenn was still alive, she had frequently let her mind wander. She loved Glenn, she admired him. She truly did. But she still found her thoughts and her eyes wandering towards her best friend. Did Glenn's death mean that she would be free to marry whom she chose, or would she be forced to marry Glenn's younger brother now? Felix. Felix was their friend, too. But it was different for him. With Glenn as heir apparent, Felix was always free to live his life, to choose his own route, and to do as he pleased. Without the weight of carrying on the family bloodline or to continue his father's legacy, Felix was always free to do as he wished. Unlike her, unlike Glenn, unlike Sylvain.

"...Let's never change. Friends forever?"

"Absolutely. No matter what happens, we'll always be friends, Sylvain."

"...Friends forever…" Ingrid replayed their last conversation over and over again in her mind. Could she allow herself to dream? To admit that perhaps she did want things to change between them? She's always loved him. That much she knew. Even when they were kids, when she was still betrothed to Glenn. Even then, she would occasionally let her mind wander, imagining how things would have been different if her father had struck a deal with House Gautier instead.

Her relationship with Glenn had consisted of her following him around like a lovesick schoolgirl, but around Sylvain, she was able to be herself. Sylvain who was a pain in her ass, Sylvain who always entertained her most childish whims when their other two friends wouldn't. There was that one time they all stayed in Fhirdiad and she got hungry in the middle of the night. Dimitri and Felix had both grumbled before turning over in their sleep. But Sylvain, though groggy, had eagerly snuck into the palace kitchens with her. Then there were the countless times he'd volunteered to be her stead when they played "The Knight, the Dragon, and the Princess" and she had insisted on being the knight, leaving Dimitri to play the princess, and Felix in tears at the thought of being the dragon. Glenn, on the other hand, was her teacher, a protector, an older brother, someone she looked up to. He taught her so much. He showed her how to hold her own in battle, how to be a knight.

When you're young, it's easy to confuse a mere crush with love. Ingrid knew that she always looked up to Glenn. He was the picture of the perfect knight from her storybooks. Strong, brave, handsome. So, she thought she loved him. They were engaged, afterall. So it was only natural.

When they were kids, she was engaged to Glenn, whom her parents told her to love. And she did with all of her heart, for it was her duty as a noble, as heir to House Galatea. But a part of her loved Sylvain then, too. He was her best friend and he knew her. Now that they were adults, now that she had mourned Glenn like the ever dutiful widow, did she dare to admit her feelings for her best friend? She would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she did in fact want things to change between them. "Friends forever." Did she dare admit that she wanted to be more than friends?

" I mean... It's not a joke that you're beautiful…"

She found him sitting alone in their old classroom. He's been avoiding her ever since he called her beautiful. So, when she approached him, she half expected him to jump out of his seat and run, like he did after their last conversation.

"You've been avoiding me…" She told him, sitting down in the empty chair next to him.

"I...uh..I didn't...er.. I'm sorry…" He was stuttering again, a trait so unlike him, " I just can't do this anymore…"

"Do what? Be friends?" Ingrid felt her heart stop as she heard those words leave her mouth. She knew that being merely friends with Sylvain would not be enough, was never enough, but the thought of losing his ever annoying presence in her life was more than she could bear. Was he telling her that he no longer needed her, that her "judgemental-yet-for-his-own-good quips" were no longer necessary?

" Was it something I did? I can't lose you, Sylvain." She bit her lower lip, blinking to keep back the tears that were now forming in her eyes.

"Sothis, no!... I mean no, it's not something you said…. But it's not that I don't want to be friends anymore. I do still want to be friends, but only if you want to still be friends, I mean…."

" Mean what, Sylvain?" The tears were falling uncontrollably from her eyes now but if he was going to turn her away for forever, she wasn't about to let him get away with it. Not after everything she did for him. So she glared at him through the waterworks, staring at him even though she could hardly see behind the tears clouding her eyes.

"I can't lose you Ingrid. But I also can't keep pretending to be just friends. Not when I'm in love with you…."

Ingrid loved Glenn for it was her duty as his betrothed, as heir to her House. But a part of her has always loved Sylvain, as well. Loving Glenn was her duty, but loving Sylvain is her choice.

Sylvain

Sylvain was eight years old when he noticed just how pretty his best friend was. Ingrid Brandl Galatea, the girl he had known since he was two years old, had been forced into a dress that made her emerald eyes sparkle ten times brighter than they usually did and he could have sworn that he felt his heart stop when he saw her. For a moment he let himself dream. Perhaps one day, when they were old enough, he could talk to his parents and Ingrid's parents, and they could be together. But he quickly pushed that thought aside before he got too carried away. Ingrid was his best friend and nothing more. After all, she was already betrothed to none other than to their friend Felix's older brother. There was no way he'd be able to measure up.

—

When you were eight, you came on to my sweet, sweet granny. My Granny!

Come on. I was eight and she was gorgeo-That was a long time ago.

When Ingrid called him out for hitting on her granny, he had come dangerously close to confessing his feelings. What he wanted to say, what he had almost said out loud before he caught himself was: " I was eight and she was gorgeous and made me think of how beautiful you'd be when we grew up." But if he told her that she would have knocked his teeth in and gone on about how he had no dignity, how he was just engaging in meaningless flirtations again.

The fact of the matter is, when she had caught him that day, he had not been flirting with her granny at all. He had actually been complaining to Ingrid's grandmother about Ingrid, about how she idolized Glenn, how she followed him around, and how much it made Sylvain feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. Earlier that day they had been playing a game of Knights and Dragons, where Ingrid was the Knight, Felix was the Dragon, Dimitri the "damsel" in distress, and Sylvain, being the biggest of all the boys, the knight's noble steed. About halfway through their game, Glenn had joined in and Ingrid immediately abandoned her friends and bounded towards her fiance, with all the vigor of a lovesick schoolgirl. Not wanting to witness the love of his life fawning over another man, he grumbled something about it being too hot and retreated to a shady area not far from his friends. It was there that Ingrid's granny found him, sulking about her granddaughter.

"I can't deny my feelings," he had told her just before Ingrid found him.

–

Seeing you out and about helped me relax enough to be able to flirt with girls again.

The truth is, seeing Ingrid grieve over Glenn was a wake-up they were kids, when Glenn was still alive, Sylvain had secretly hoped against hope that perhaps Ingrid loved him, too. That perhaps there was still a chance her father would break off the Fraldarius engagement if she had told him she loved the Gautier heir. But she never did. So he buried his sorrows in other women. Chasing meaningless relationship after meaningless relationship, pursuing anything with a pulse in a desperate attempt to fill the void in his heart. But none of them ever did. Even then he knew the only person who could fill the emptiness in his heart was none other than the beautiful blonde he called his best friend. But she could never love him that way. Not when he was such a worthless piece of shit..

Then when Glenn died, Ingrid grieved, locking herself in her room, refusing to come out for anything or anyone. And he grieved with her, sitting outside her room, talking to her through the walls of her bedroom door. He hated seeing her hurt. He hated Glenn for hurting her and he swore to himself that he would protect her, never let her hurt that deeply again. That was also the unfortunate moment he realized that Ingrid would never love him as much as she loved Glenn. Glenn was brave and chivalrous, a dutiful knight, the very kind she read about in her storybooks. Sylvain, on the other hand, was unhinged, reckless, and a complete disgrace to the crested blood coursing through his veins. How could Ingrid ever love him over Glenn? If there was one thing he learned from reading Ingrid's storybooks with her, it was that love was eternal, capable of transcending even death. Glenn may be gone but Ingrid would still only ever love him.

So when Ingrid grieved for Glenn, he sat with her and kept her company, pouring all of the love he had for her into comforting her, being with her, and helping her pull through. When she recovered, he returned to his default coping mechanism. He knew his pursuits were pointless but what harm could they do when the one person he's ever truly wanted was way beyond reach?

—

"I''d like it if you didn't get too far away from me on the battlefield, OK? Just stay where I can see you."

Sylvain meant what he said. She was precious to him, whether or not she knew it. Life was meaningless without her. When she wasn't around, he felt lost. She grounded him. She was the reason why he had asked the professor, in spite of his crippling fear of heights, to train him in flying. He would do anything to be close to her, even if it meant enduring the fires of Ailel and the fury of an angry wyvern.

There was nothing he wouldn't do for her, to keep her close. That was part of the reason he doubled down on his flirtations during their academy days. She'd scold him and chide him whenever he got into trouble with a lord for defiling his daughter. She'd clean up after him, apologize to the lord on his behalf. And her attention was addictive. This way, even if she would never love him, even if she was always beyond reach, he'd still be able to bask in her attention and pretend that she cared or even loved him enough to care.

—

" I mean... It's not a joke that you're beautiful…"

Word vomit. Sylvain knew that he was reckless. He knew that he often didn't care to think before he acted. But letting those words slip out of his mouth was a new low because he had done it now. Gone and ruined his friendship with Ingrid. Surely she'd hate him forever. Knock his teeth in for resorting to meaningless flirtations again, especially while they were at war. So he did the only thing any sensible man in his situation would do: he ran before she could react. Then he proceeded to avoid her over the course of the next week, taking his meals when he knew Ingrid would be on the training grounds, pleading with Annette to switch with him whenever he was paired with Ingrid on chores, and diving behind prickly bushes when he saw her on the monastery grounds.

A week into the hiding and running, she found him. It was late and he couldn't sleep. The toll of war was catching up to him. He found himself thinking of a more peaceful time— a time when there was no war, when he would do everything in his power to avoid class and Ingrid would barge into his room and drag him by the ears to lectures. In a nostalgic haze he had decided to take a midnight stroll through the monastery grounds. And in a very un-Sylvain fashion, he ended up in their old classroom, reminiscing about sitting behind Ingrid during lecture and dreaming of running his fingers through her long hair. That was always the one plus side of class–he could sit behind her and stare at her without anyone noticing. He knew it was creepy.

It was there, in their old class room that she found him.

"You've been avoiding me…" She told him, sitting down in the empty chair next to him.

"I...uh..I didn't...er.. I'm sorry…" He was so sick of running from her and his feelings for her but he struggled with how to tell her without pushing her away, " I just can't do this anymore…"

"Do what? Be friends? Was it something I did? I can't lose you, Sylvain." Tears were beginning to form in his eyes. He'd hurt her. He really was a piece of shit.

"Sothis, no!... I mean no, it's not something you said…. But it's not that I don't want to be friends anymore. I do still want to be friends, but only if you want to still be friends, I mean…."

" Mean what, Sylvain?"

"I can't lose you Ingrid. But I also can't keep pretending to be just friends. Not when I'm in love with you…."

Ingrid continued to glare at him and for a moment he thought that she would get up and leave, turning her back on him forever because he had finally managed to ruin it. He'd hurt her and completely destroyed their friendship with three stupid words.

"I'm sorry. I know I've just ruined everything. I'll go now," he whispered as he stood up and proceeded to walk away from her. But before he could go far Ingrid stopped him, grabbing him by the arm.

" Wait, Sylvain!" She motioned for him to sit back down. "Don't I get to say something? "

He sat back down in his seat and waited for her to speak.

" I was engaged to Glenn before I even knew what love was. But we were engaged, so I thought I must love him because we're engaged," she began. "It wasn't hard because he was very easy to love. Then there was you. You were always there and I always loved spending time with you." She reached for his hand and locked her fingers with his before continuing. "Yes, I thought I loved Glenn, but you were the one always on my mind. You're my best friend, Sylvain."

"So you don't hate me?"

"I don't hate you." She beamed at him and squeezed his hand. And he knew exactly what she meant. Afterall, they had known each other since they were toddlers. He had come to understand the meaning behind every determined glare and every tick in her voice. I don't hate you. You're my best friend and I love you.

Perhaps he had finally managed to do one thing right, after all.