#miklan tries to kill his brother a few times

[semi-imaginary-place]

Sylvain Character Analysis

Sylvain gets introduced as a relentless flirt and cheater. a rather shallow frivolous man who can't be serious and apply himself. and then we learn things like he's incredibly smart and can understand at a glance complex magic math textbooks that have the magic scholar annette stumped. he likes board games (other's in the board game club are edelgard, hubert, claude, and yuri. you know team scheming). he's a horse boy and a clean freak who thinks the monestary's cafeteria is filthy. And as ashe's supports show he genuinely want to help people and has a lot of traits that ashe thinks are knightly, noble, and gallant. Sylvain enjoys the arts and is quite the reader. Under the flippancy he also has one of the strongest sense's of duty and responsibility as he is one of the few character where all his endings have him becoming margrave because he feels obligated to its people and to negotiating peace with sreng. most of the other nobles have some endings with them taking power and some where they go off to travel the world as adventurers. for someone so dedicated to being not serious he's also oddly deferential to authority. oh yeah and miklan his brother repeatedly tried to kill him.

and through all this the audience starts to piece together sylvain as a person and what makes him tick. miklan was not kicked out of the house until sylvain was 18 and a childhood of being tormented, the heavy expectations of his father and nobility, and the relentless pursuit of sylvain by women wanting to marry into house gautier have left him deeply jaded about the nobility and crest system, with low self worth, and engaging in a lot of self sabotage and emotional self harm. Sylvain hates all the women he flirts with and dates. and he sets up all his relationships to fail. by advertising himself with his family name and crest he will attract women that are interested in those things. Then when the women inevitable get fed up with his lying, cheating, bullshitting ass and dump him he takes it that he was right all along that they only wanted him for his family name, crest, etc. thus justifying his treatment of them in his mind. so he's shooting himself in the foot in an endless cycle to prove that no one actually cares about him and all women care about are crests and power.

sylvain believes that he doesn't have worth beyond his crest and nobility and this also manifests is a disregard for his life as in several supports he's noted for being reckless or taking blows for others that leave his seriously injured. And despite this all he still can't stop helping others. and he has nothing but love for his friends despite them having the things he always wanted like a loving older brother. Sylvain deliberately plays himself off as a useless flirt who lazes off partly as a passive aggressive rebellion against his father and his expectations for sylvain to be a perfect noble and partly because of his low self worth. he's self aware of his own bullshit but has resigned himself to it as his annette supports show. He actually believe's he's nothing more than a worthless flirt.

Its only with the war and the responsibility over the actual lives under his command that sylvain shapes up because its no longer just his life to waste but all those under him will suffer for his incompetence. sylvain continues to struggle through part 2 and here his development is mixed depending on route and supports. Through some of his supports like with dorothea and mercedes he is forced to confront his behavior. Such as when Dorothea offers him unconditional companionship he is forced to reckon with all the shallow double standard ways he has treated other women. or with mercedes when he finally acknowledges how the crest system has hurt him and finally starts to heal. his war time monastery dialogue is mixed with him seeming to improve on some route and seeming to fall back into his old bad habits in others. which again makes it notable that in all his endings he shapes up to competently rule gautier

more sylvain thoughts here: https://semi-imaginary-place.tumblr.com/post/688934110917443584/rfireemblemthreehouses-support-chart-for-all

[sylvanfreckles]

Thicker Than Water (3 of 5)

(For no. 16: No Way Out)

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Hopes Rating: T General Warning: Canonical child abuse, violence, nyctophobia

Summary: Three weeks ago, Margrave Gautier ordered Sylvain to find Miklan and recruit him for the war effort. He hasn't been seen or heard from since.

Now, Felix and Shez race to find him before Miklan finally does away with his brother for good…or worse. (Read on AO3)

...

“There you are,” Shez slipped through the door of the private room Felix had rented for the night. “I’m guessing you didn’t turn up much?”

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor near the fire, running a whetstone down the length of his sword. “There are rumors of a bandit leader with red hair and a scar on his face,” he replied sourly. “No one knows where he is.”

Shez folded her arms and leaned back against the door. “There’s a disused watchtower about three hours’ ride north.”

Felix’s head snapped up, dark eyes narrowing. “You found something?”

“Not much,” Shez shrugged. “Maybe two dozen men, raiding nearby farms every few days. Leader’s a tall man with red hair, scarred face.” She indicated a line from her forehead to her cheek.

“Let’s go,” Felix rolled to his feet in a fluid motion, but Shez held her arms out to bar the door.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You did hear me say two dozen men, right?”

“So?” Felix scowled. “We can take them.”

Shez blew out a sigh that fluttered her bangs. “Look, it’s just…there’s this merc downstairs, name’s Miranda. I worked with her a few times. She said she and her men could be ready to ride with us in a couple of hours.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, studying her face. “You trust her?”

“As long as the gold holds out,” Shez said, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Do you have gold?”

He rocked back on his heel, fingers tapping his chin as he thought. “They can get the job done?”

“They’re our best shot, unless you want to message one of your lords to ask for backup.” Gautier was probably the closest, but from Felix’s earlier words she wasn’t really expecting help from them. Maybe his own family, or another ally in the region, but he hadn’t said anything about House Fraldarius.

“I have gold,” Felix replied.

“Then you have mercs,” Shez grinned. She patted his shoulder companionably before turning back to the door. “This time tomorrow we’ll have thrashed Miklan and brought Sylvain back safe and sound.”

“Not quite.” Felix’s voice darkened. “I’m going to kill him.”

“What? Oh, come on. I’m sure Sylvain didn’t get kidnapped on purpose.”

“Not Sylvain,” Felix dropped a hand on her shoulder, and she looked back to see the hatred simmering in his eyes. “I’m going to kill Miklan.”

…

Miklan roughly hauled Sylvain out of the tub and dropped him onto the cold stone floor. He lay there, shivering, choking for breath as the water pooled around him.

“You’re disgusting,” Miklan sneered. “I can’t believe our father would make a mongrel like you his heir.”

Sylvain curled up, hands to his aching chest, and tried to breathe. Miklan had held him under, over and over again, until he’d breathed in a lungful of air and came up choking. He was soaked and cold straight through to his core, and his chest hurt like someone had tightened an iron band around it.

“Get up.” Miklan’s heavy boot slammed into Sylvain’s side, rolling him onto his back. “I said, get up!”

Shaking, Sylvain slowly curled back on his side to get his hands under him. Miklan lost patient and seized the back of his shirt with a growl, hauling him up to his feet. “Move!”

He stumbled the first few steps toward the door, but with his brother behind him he didn’t dare slow down. Miklan was relentless, one hand fisted in the back of Sylvain’s shirt to steer him toward the stairs that lead up and out of the ruined tower. The air was cold, but fresh, and at the moment anything seemed better than the dark, dank underground prison.

Dawn was little more than a faint blush on the horizon, the encampment quiet in the early hours. Miklan shoved Sylvain to the ground near the smoldering remnants of a fire and stood over him, fists on his hips. “You’re not gonna try to run again on me, are you?”

Sylvain shook his head. He’d pulled his knees in tight, trying to preserve as much of his failing body heat as he could. He couldn’t have run away in this condition if he’d wanted to, anyway. Not with the sharp pain in his lungs every time he breathed.

Miklan gave a derisive snort and stalked over to a pot that had been left in the coals. He dipped a dirty wooden bowl into the pot and brought it over to Sylvain. “Eat up, then, little brother.”

The stew was cold, partially congealed, and smelled like burned meat and rancid fat. Despite his hunger, Sylvain’s stomach twisted just looking at the mess in the bowl.

His brother grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, holding the bowl against his lips. “Want me to feed you?”

Sylvain struggled, feebly, and managed to pull the bowl out of Miklan’s hands. Eating the fetid meal was probably better than choking on it, though he had no doubt he wouldn’t keep it down.

He lifted the bowl to his lips and took a cautious sip of the broth. It was worse than he’d expected, but he managed to swallow his first sip, even if he gagged on it.

Miklan laughed. He’d sat down on a stump a few feet away and was watching Sylvain’s struggle with obvious delight. “I’ve been thinking about moving on from here,” he commented casually. He leaned forward and propped his chin in his hands, grinning wickedly at his brother. “If you’re good I might take you with me…but if you’re bad I’ll leave you staked out on the wall for the crows to pick apart.”

“Boss!” One of the bandits scurried through the darkness, up to Miklan’s side. “We’ve got movement. Coming in from the south and west.”

Miklan glared at Sylvain, who tried to shrink in on himself. He couldn’t have anything to do with this, after all. Unless their father was finally responding to Miklan’s ransom letter, or….

…or his own letter had reached Dimitri in time.

Something must have shown in his eyes, as Miklan snarled at him before turning to the bandit. “Man your posts. I’ll put the brat away and join you.”

Suddenly, from the eastern side of camp where the sun’s rays had just started peeking over the ruined wall, a line of fire threaded the sky as a flaming arrow arced overhead. Someone screamed, and the ring of steel against steel split the air.

Miklan swore and glared at Sylvain for a moment, before his eyes flicked away to something behind him.

“No, wait.” He dropped the bowl and tried to back away. He didn’t have to turn around to know his brother was looking at the old well. “Miklan….”

His brother stood, and in a burst of panic Sylvain found the strength to get on his feet to make a run for it. He made it three steps before Miklan was on him, hand in his collar, slamming him back down onto the ground without a hint of mercy.

“You don’t run away from me,” Miklan snarled in his ear. He dragged him, though Sylvain fought with what little remained of his flagging strength.

They were at the edge. Miklan was hauling him up, forcing him over, the well yawning beneath him like an empty tomb. Sylvain tried to fight him, but a gauntleted fist caught him across the face, stunning him.

Then he was up and over the side and falling down, down, down into the cold darkness at the bottom of the well.

[ship-ambrosia]

Thicker Than Blood is the Crests They Bear (Fire Emblem)

I’m usually all about the shipping, but that’s not the case here! I cannot believe I wrote this all in one day - one where I had to take Kiki to the vet too. She’s still glaring at me as I post this lol

This is set some time pre-Tragedy of Duscur. The moment Sylvain mentioned all the ways that Miklan tried to kill him, I wondered what his friends growing up would have thought of that.

Summary: In which Sylvain goes missing, and his friends know why.

   It’ll be fun, Sylvain. He had said.

   Just the two of us. Sure, it sounded wonderful.

   Don’t tell father and mother, they’ll just spoil everything. He was right. And Sylvain would do anything for him.

  Miklan never wanted to spend time with him. Miklan never wanted to even be around him. When his brother offered to take him for a horse ride through the mountains, it meant everything to Sylvain. It was everything to him. Finally, Miklan was seeing him for what was true; he hadn’t chosen to disinherit him with his birth. There was nothing more that little Sylvain wanted than for his brother to love him.

  As he lay in the snow, alone and cold in the quiet winter evening, he finally confronted himself. Deep in his heart, he knew it had been too good to be true. He had always known Miklan hated him, and that wouldn’t go away in a single day. Still he had believed him, put all his faith in him.

  Right to the moment that Miklan told him to get off the horse.

  As he watched his brother ride away, Sylvain was angry, but not at him. He was filled with fury and hatred toward the goddess, toward his parents, toward his Crest. This thing he never asked for, didn’t even fully understand. Why? Why had this happened to him? He supposed if he were to die here, at least he’d had some good times. Dimitri, Felix, Ingrid... his closest friends. At least while his parents mourned their heir, his friends would mourn him.

  ~

  Dimitri, ever the prodigious hard worker, was returning from training for the day when he overheard the conversation.

  “The heir you say? That’s the boy who was friends with Dimitri,” Lambert sighed. “My word... how would I ever be able to tell him?”

  “Tell me what, father?” Dimitri asked, having stepped forward into the room without even realizing it. “Who are you talking about? What’s going on?”

  “Dimitri,” the king, so strong and wise and ever the perfect image of a knight to the young prince, he looked so sad as he kneeled down so he could be level with his son. “How much did you overhear?”

  “Just the last part. I was with Gustave until but a moment ago,” he looked up, toward the man who had been speaking with his father. “I recognize you, sir. You’re from House Gautier. So you were talking about Sylvain.”

  “Ever the perceptive young man,” the man chuckled, but there was a darkness to his eyes.

  “Dimitri,” his father let out a sigh and avoided his son’s direct gaze. “Sylvain went missing about three days ago. Margrave Gautier sent his man to me immediately, so he could have been found by now but... we don’t know. We won’t know until I get another report.”

  Dimitri’s eyes widened in response, as all the breath left the young prince’s body. Something like this... he was no stranger to death. Dimitri had seen people die before, in front of his eyes. He knew his birth mother had died, and that was why his mother wasn’t truly his mother. But to think Sylvain would be claimed in such a way was a thought that had never occurred to him. He had always imagined his friends - Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain of course too - growing up to become knights in his service when he became king.

  Except, the thought had occurred to him before. Once, when the four of them had all gathered not even a year ago at Margrave Gautier’s manor.

  ~

  The clashing of practice swords was a common sound in the Fraldarius household, if it wasn’t Duke Fraldarius’s two sons competing with each other than there was at least one of them fighting an instructor or even more interestingly, dueling their father. For now it was Glenn and Felix facing off, per usual the younger of the two having once again challenged his older brother to a duel.

  With a quick thrust, Glenn pushed the tip of his sword into his brother’s shoulder, just above his heart.

  “I purposely struck above your heart so as to not hurt you. But I think I win again, Felix,” he chuckled.

  “Ngh, again!” Felix snarled. “Another bout! I must beat you!”

  “That’ll be the day, little brother,” Glenn shook his head as he walked off the training ground and sat on a nearby bench. “But I think five rounds is enough for one day. I’m beat.”

  “How is it even possible? I train so much more than you!”

  “What do you think I do in the capital all day? Stare at Prince Dimitri?”

  “No, but it’s not like you and Dimitri can spar all the time! When you’re gone, all I do is train but it doesn’t even seem to matter!”

  Glenn leaned over and flicked his brother on the forehead. Felix yelped and rubbed the spot, narrowing his eyes at him.

  “It’s not about how much, but the quality of the training. If you’re just running yourself until you’re exhausted, that’s not going to do you any good. You need to understand what to improve on, and figure out how to compensate for your weaknesses. That’s why I train with His Highness so much. You and I are too similar in the way we fight.”

  Felix pouted. “What do I need to work on then?”

  “You need to compensate your lack of defense with your speed. You’d be even faster than me I’d bet,” he grinned. “Have you ever sparred with Prince Dimitri? I’d love to see that.”

  “Father won’t let me. He thinks Dimitri and I might actually hurt each other.”

  Glenn howled with laughter for a moment, clutching his stomach. “Ha! Well he’s not wrong,” finally when his laughter died down, he placed a hand on Felix’s head and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry Felix, it’ll happen someday. You and I both, we’ve gotta get stronger than His Highness if we want to serve him, right?”

  And Felix looked up to his brother, to the person he looked up to more than anyone else in the world, and cracked a grin. “Of course.”

  It was then that the doors to their training yard burst open, and from them came their father, Rodrigue. The duke was a man known by his sons to be rather jovial and cheerful, but the same could not be said about him in that moment. Duke Fraldarius’s entire face was darkened, his brow furrowed deeper than either of them had ever seen.

  “Father? What’s wrong?” Glenn stood up, dropping the sarcastic tone and “old man” greeting he usually gave their father upon recognizing that something serious was happening.

  “We’re leaving for Gautier territory tonight,” the duke’s words were sharp and crisp. “Boys, gather your things.”

  “Did something happen? Did the people of Sreng attack? How could they retaliate so soon? It has only been six years since you and King Lambert quelled their uprising,” Glenn dropped the information he recalled from his studies quickly, once more leaving his younger brother in awe of his abilities.

  “No, it is not Sreng. At least, goddess I hope not,” Felix stiffened up when his father’s gaze moved to him. “Felix. Sylvain has gone missing. I’m taking you boys with me to help search for him, and so that his friends will be there when he is returned. Count Galatea and his daughter should be on their way, and I believe Gustave will be bringing Prince Dimitri as well. Do you understand?”

  All the joy and frustration building up in his body from sparring with his brother rushed out of him in an instant, and instinctively, Felix looked toward his brother. Glenn was staring straight ahead, eyes narrowed, teeth clenched tight in anger. Like his brother, Felix also looked up to Sylvain who, despite being friends with him and Dimitri and Ingrid, was two years older than the rest of them. To hear Sylvain could be hurt, could be missing, even dead somewhere... just didn’t seem fathomable. Sylvain had made a promise to him; a promise that neither would die without the other. He couldn’t die on him now.

  Staring into his brother’s face however, suddenly the situation became all too clear.

  ~

  Ingrid was silent in the carriage to Gautier. Her hands were clutched together in her lap tightly as she muttered prayers under her breath to the goddess that Sylvain would be found safe before she and her father even arrived. It had not even been that long since she had last seen her friend, loud and obnoxious and exhausting that he was. She found that any time she spent with him was only spent cleaning up his messes, apologizing to people he’d angered or upset.

  She knew Sylvain meant no harm, and she was just grateful they’d gotten to the point where he stopped attempting to flirt with her too; amusedly, it’d taken him saying something in front of Glenn and for the older young man to threateningly tell him to back off to finally do it. Ingrid smiled ever so slightly at the memory.

  The ache in her chest brought her back to reality though, the pain of not knowing what had befallen her friend. Was he dead? Had he been kidnapped? Of course she and all her friends understood extremely well the danger their lives were in constantly; not only were they the children of nobles - Dimitri being the prince and next heir to the throne, and both Felix and Sylvain being the children of two of the highest ranking noble families in Faerghus - but all four of them bore Crests of the Ten Elite Heroes. They were all incredibly sought after for marriage, so she was sure that even kidnapping wasn’t out of the question.

  “Do they... do they have any clue as to what happened?” She spoke up finally.

  Her father appeared to be startled by her voice, looking up at her quickly before back down to the floor of the carriage. “Not from the message I got sweetie, no. But it takes some time for those messages to be delivered, you know. They will probably have some idea by the time we arrive.”

  “Sylvain could be returned safe by that time, could he not?”

  Her father nodded, giving her a smile. “Of course, Ingrid. That’s why I’m bringing you. When he returns safe, he’ll want to see his friends, wouldn’t you think so?”

  She could see it in his eyes though, that her father didn’t truly think that was what would happen. She supposed it was good then, it was a show of his support for House Gautier, that he would travel so far to help them search for their missing heir. And she would help too, as best as she could. She may also have Dimitri and Felix, and even Glenn, but nothing would be the same in their group if Sylvain was found dead, or never found again.

  Yes, their group, the future leaders of Faerghus... who all bore Crests...

  ~

  He wondered how well his friends remembered that night in the manor. His father had thrown a party; for what, Sylvain couldn’t have been sure. Even if he wanted to know, his father still probably would’ve insisted he was too young to understand. The only thing Sylvain cared about was that King Lambert, Duke Fraldarius, and Count Galatea were all in attendance, which almost guaranteed that his friends would all be there.

  There was nothing he looked forward to more while growing up than the days he got to spend with even one of them, so having Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid all together was a dream come true. It helped lessen his loneliness, which suffocated him. Sure, he was friends with the attendants, he could go or do anything in Gautier territory that he so pleased. But somehow, just by avoiding him, Miklan made it a nightmare. He should have known; seeing him surrounded by kids his age, seeing him happy, would only have made Miklan more furious.

  “I cannot believe Glenn is to be your retainer, Dimitri!” Ingrid clasped her hands together as she chirped. “He’s just incredible, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he is. I’m very happy to have such a friend by my side,” the young prince answered.

  “Well, I could be a better retainer than him,” It was Felix who spoke up, looking unhappy. “You should pick me.”

  “It was Gustave who picked Glenn, not I.”

  “Besides Felix, you just can’t compete with Glenn!”

  “Oh shut up Ingrid!”

  Even though his friends were bickering, Sylvain couldn’t have been happier to have them there.

  “Guys-“

  A shadow fell over Sylvain, causing him to stop in the middle of his sentence. He looked up to find Miklan standing above him, looking down with that cold expression he was so used to.

  “Miklan?” It was Dimitri who spoke first. He sounded only a bit confused. Sylvain supposed he was confused too. Miklan didn’t speak to him.

  ”Figures you babies are just standing around talking,” his older brother laughed. “All the adults in the manor are busy so you could be off doing whatever you wanted, but here you are. Just a bunch of spoiled rotten children.”

  “What do you want, Miklan?” He groaned.

  “I was just going to take a peek at the Relic... maybe play around with it a little,” his older brother answered with a smirk. “No one’s around to tell me not to.”

  “Well, we’re around,” Ingrid said with narrowed eyes.

  “Right, so are you going to come with me to see the Relic or not?”

  Dimitri spoke up. “We shouldn’t. Hero Relics are extremely dangerous. Our parents only use them after extensive training.”

  “No, I think we should go with him,” Felix said, stepping up beside Sylvain and narrowing his eyes at the older Gautier brother. “What right does he have to touch what’s rightfully yours? You have to prove you’re better than him.”

  Sylvain saw a shadow cross his brother’s face for a moment, sending a chill down his spine. His childish pride wouldn’t let him back down from Felix’s statement though, and he nodded. “Fine, we’ll come.”

  Miklan just grinned again. “Understood. Follow me.”

  Though Dimitri and Ingrid protested the entire way, all four kids followed Miklan up to the room where his parents kept the Lance of Ruin. With such an ominous name, Sylvain had always been frightened by the prospect of having to wield it one day for his family. He knew it was the weapon that kept his family safe, but he also knew it was more powerful than he could ever hope to understand. Sylvain watched as his brother walked up to the case it was kept in, produce the key from his pocket, and push it into the lock.

  “Did you steal that from Margrave Gautier?!” Dimitri guffawed.

  “Sure did little princeling.”

  “Our father is going to kill you if we get caught,” Sylvain exclaimed.

  “He’ll have to kill both of us, since you were here too,” Miklan grinned again that mean smile. “Guess you better hope we don’t get caught.”

  The four children watched as Miklan opened the case, reaching in to grab the pole of the lance. It was not the first time Sylvain had seen it, and it wasn’t the first time any of them had seen in a Relic since both Dimitri and Felix’s fathers wielded their own and Ingrid had already been shown her inheritance, it was the first time any of them had seen a Relic without any adults present.

  Miklan touched the lance, gasping somewhat at the power that pulsed through him at the touch. Slowly, he removed the Lance of Ruin from its case, and all of them present stared in silence.

  “You should put that pack, Miklan,” Dimitri spoke in his I’m-a-prince-and-you-should-listen-to-me voice. Eventually they all would but Sylvain still found it funny, and would have laughed if he wasn’t suddenly filled with dread as Miklan spun the lance around in his hands.

  “You aren’t in charge of me yet, princeling.”

  “It’s your lance! Stop him!” Felix exclaimed.

  Sylvain fathered his nerves, clenching his fists at his side’s tightly. “Miklan! Stop!”

  He watched his brother set the Lance of Ruin at his side, turning to face him with an expression that Sylvain didn’t recognize. “What?” There was a hostility to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

  “I-I think...” he could feel himself losing his nerves quickly. “You should put the Lance of Ruin back, and we should all leave before we get caught. They’re going to notice us missing.”

  “Oh yeah? And I think spoiled little brats like you should learn their place!” In a heart stopping maneuver, his older brother pointed the tip of the lance toward him.

  Sylvain started down the shaft of the pole, never once expecting in his life to be afraid of the weapon he was to inherit would be used against him. “Remember what father said? You can only wield a Hero Relic if you bear the Crest that matches it. We don’t know what the lance will do if wielded by someone who doesn’t have one, and you don’t have the Crest of Gautier-“

  “You think I don’t know that?!” His brother roared, swinging the lance around. “You think I don’t think about that every day?! Because of you! It’s all because you were born! Why did you have to have the Crest; but not me?!”

  “Miklan, stop!” Dimitri yelled.

  “Sylvain!” Felix and Ingrid cried at the same time as the Lance of Ruin came flying from his brother’s hand... directly at him.

  The next heartbeat later, Sylvain was staring into the familiar face of Felix’s older brother, Glenn. The Fraldarius heir had him pinned to the ground, breathing heavily as though he’d just experienced a very intense workout. When Glenn registered just exactly what had occurred, he took a deep breath and smiled at him. “I cannot believe... I made it in time...”

  As he stood up and offered a hand to Sylvain, the younger Gautier brother took in what had occurred. The Lance of Ruin was wedged into the wall, at the same height as Sylvain’s head where it had been only a moment ago. Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid were on the other side of the room, all looking shocked with their mouths agape. And Miklan...

  Miklan hadn’t moved an inch, staring ahead of him with no intention to look at his brother.

  All six noble children stood there in silence until some time later when they heard footsteps, and several adults cane burst into the room. At the front of the group was Margrave Gautier and his wife, looking madly between their two sons and the Hero Relic they protected. Sylvain listened quietly as Glenn explained calmly what had happened to everyone.

  He’d seen Miklan provoking the four younger kids, then watched them all leave and decided to follow. Glenn had wanted to step in and intervene with the others when they insisted Miklan put the lance back, to tell his brother he was wrong, but the scene escalated quicker than he could have anticipated and leapt in to push Sylvain out of the way of the lance at the last moment.

  And that memory, that one small situation in time, was how when they all thought about it, Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid all came to the same conclusion as to who could have caused their best friend to disappear.

   He wasn’t actually trying to kill Sylvain, the adults had all said. He was just angry about the Gautier Crest and acted without thinking. That’s how he’s always been. But they hadn’t been there. They didn’t know. They hadn’t seen the same smile that Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid had watched cross Miklan’s face after he realized he’d thrown the lance.

  “It was Miklan who made Sylvain disappear.”

  ~

  By the time each of them reached Gautier manor, Sylvain had in fact been rescued. Ingrid, having left first, arrived ahead of the others, and was sitting next to her friend’s bed when Dimitri and Felix arrived together. Sylvain was awake but still advised to stay in bed, wrapped up in several blankets with a fire going in the hearth at the other side of his room.

  Sylvain had spent nine hours alone in the cold, on the side of that mountain. It was a miracle by the goddess that he was still alive, they all knew that. It was an unspoken understanding amongst the four of them that under any other circumstances, he would have died. So they were more than grateful to sit by Sylvain’s bedside, to talk with him as long as they needed, to pretend that hadn’t just been the worst three days of all of their lives and that their friends’ brother hadn’t actively meant to try and kill him.

  “Dimitri believes Miklan is behind this,” King Lambert informed the others.

  Count Galatea was taken aback. “Ingrid said the same thing.”

  “So did Felix,” Duke Fraldarius nodded. “And Glenn seemed inclined to agree.”

  “I see,” answered the boys’ father.

  “I understand that there may not be hard proof for this,” the king continued. “But I believe the children may all be referring to what occurred at that party a year ago with the Lance of Ruin.”

  “It’s just one incident after another,” the duke shook his head. “Even if there’s a chance that we have grossly misunderstood this situation, you must make it clear to Miklan that he cannot put his brother in such danger.”

  “And even if his anger is only directed toward Sylvain, next time it could be my Ingrid caught in the fire,” Count Galatea added. “Or His Highness.”

  Margrave Gautier nodded. “Of course. I understand very, very much. It will not happen again. As of now, Miklan will be disinherited completely from the Gautier family.”

  ~

  He felt that pain in every enemy he cut down with the Lance of Ruin in hand. He saw his brother’s grinning face, heard him call him “you Crest-bearing fool” over and over in his head whenever the lance was in his hands. Watched him scream and curl in agony and transform into the monsters that he slay on the battlefield. In that way he understood the ghosts that tormented Dimitri very well. Miklan never left him alone.

  But it was the Crest Stone embedded in the lance’s surface that reminded him he had to keep fighting. It was the reason he carried on, for the Crests. To do away with them once the war was over, to make people forget they were ever important in the first place. He hated his blood, which carried his Crest, which could be passed down to one of his children some day. But Sylvain had already made up his mind; no matter Crest or not, his firstborn child would be the legitimate heir to House Gautier.

  They charged into another endless battle. The lance glowed red in his hands. As red hot as his fury, all his pain, and all the blood he had spilled. But it was fine, because it meant that he would never forget that which was most important.

  He hated his Crest almost as much as Miklan had hated him.

[fandompeepsgoburrrr]

Sylvain Headcannon #1

- Siblings (i apologise for any spelling errors, i did this on my phone)

Miklan was born first which is why his name means inheritance. But he was uncrested, so 8 years later the Margrave had more kids, twin boys.

The Twins were Sylvain and two minutes younger Delmore. Sylvain means 'of the forest' so Delmore means 'of the sea'. They were both tested and only Sylvain had the Crest.

Miklan quickly grew very jealous. When Miklan was 12 and the Twins 8, he made his first attempt on thier life. He had snuck into thier room after dark and tried to suffocate Sylvain, but luckily Delmore managed to tackle Miklan off and the Twins ran away.

Since most of Miklan's anger seemed to be directed at Sylvain only, Delmore took it upon himself to become a protector of sorts for his older brother.

Things went well for several years until the Twins were meant to meet the Fraldarius heirs when they were 12. The night before they were to leave Miklan pushed Sylvain down the old well in the family courtyard. Sylvain suffered a badly broken arm, broken ribs, and a concussion. When Delmore went to go get help, Miklan picked him up and threw him down too.

Unfortuantly being thrown and not pushed caused Delmore to fall head first. He suffered a major headwound and was unresponsive for the 10 plus hours they were trapped in there. He never fulled recovered, barely able to keep memories or thoughts from just a few days before.

Since the Twins hadn't been presented to society yet, the Margrave forced Sylvain to say he was an only child, and quietly set Delmore up as a stable hand where the simple repetitive motions made him able to work. This is a big reason to why Sylvain later wanted to be a paladin, so he could always have an excuse to visit Delmore.

Miklan, age 20, was reprimanded by being sent to the Sreng border for several years.

When Miklan came back, he had a new obsticle in his way to Sylvain, that of the heirs new friends, the four other crested children of nobility. So he had to bide his time, and in doing so, made Sylvain think that most of his anger had quelled.

On Sylvain's 15th birthday Miklan convinced him to go hunting with him early in the morning. Miklan left Sylvain beaten and bloody, several miles away from any hope of being saved.

Once back home Miklan caused a scene saying Sylvain had tried to run away and got lost in the woods, hoping his younger brother would be also too disabled to take the title but not enough to die, so Miklan didn't get in too much trouble.

Glenn Fraldarius managed to find him with his own younger brother, and accused Miklan when they returned. The older brothers got into a fight until thier fathers seperated them, and scared about retailiation, Sylvain agreed with Miklan's story.

Since Sylvain confirmed himself for trying to leave, the Margrave took a mistress to try and have a few more kids in hopes of another heir. 3 misses later, and when Sylvain was 17, and Miklan was 25, thier Crested sister, Kari was born.

Realizing that even if he got rid of Sylvain, there was another hitch in his plan to become the heir, Miklan became even more violent. And in a fit of rage, Miklan broke into his sister's room, 2 weeks before her birth would have been officially announced, and killed her with a quick neck snap.

Sylvain, worried about his brothers rising temper, went to his father that night, and Miklan was caught within minutes of the act. The incident with Delmore, the fight with Glenn, and now killing a crested child, the Margrave finally disowned Miklan and forced him from the house rather publicly.

Sylvain still hasn't found the courage to correct his friends that Miklan's departure had nothing ro do with protecting him. They still don't know he had siblings besides Miklan.

He plans to keep it that way, no matter how many people stare at his personal stable hand, Delmore and question the name of his new horse, Kari.

[iturbide]

AU Masterlist

For ease of reference, all AUs will be linked to their respective tag on the blog; for fics marked as ‘In Progress’ or ‘Complete,’ status will link to AO3 if the work has an entry there; for fics marked as ‘One-Shot,’ status will link to either AO3 or Tumblr; for fics marked as ‘In Development,’ status will link to a Tumblr summary or outline of the complete work; all ‘In Planning’ works will be left unlinked. 

Fire Emblem: Awakening

The Future Built Upon the Past (In Progress) - My Awakening magnum opus; a look at the events of the doomed timeline and how it led to the course of events that eventually sent Lucina back in time to alter the course of fate.

Affectionately Yours (Complete) - Accepting Plegia’s invitation to visit in his sister’s stead, Chrom rapidly comes to realize that everything he thought he knew about the halidom’s neighbor is at best a wild exaggeration thanks to the guidance of Plegia’s sovereign, Robin.

Cursed Fate (Complete) - A Shadow of the Colossus AU; following Robin’s death, Chrom takes his body back to Plegia for burial; when a disembodied whisper confirms that there may be a chance to restore Robin’s life, Chrom goes on a quest through the Grimleal nation to bring together Grima’s remains.

Crown of Shadows (Complete) / The Shrouded Throne (Complete) - A split-path narrative where, to stop the civil war raging in Plegia, Robin comes to Ylisse to beg aid from Exalt Emmeryn.    After getting drafted by accident into the Shepherds, the Plegian and the Ylissean prince become fast friends – and very soon, something more. 

Accursed Divine (In Progress) - Robin is trapped in a curse that transforms her by day into a fell beast.  Once the curse is broken, the ensuing political drama follows Robin and Chrom uniting their countries after Robin’s ascension to the Plegian throne.

Sigh No More (In Progress) - An arranged marriage AU where following a crushing defeat at Plegian hands, Chrom’s father is forced to wed his son to Robin, who due to Validar’s ritual in her early life now bears more than just Grima’s mark as a sign of her fellblood; despite a rocky beginning, the two become friends and even find love in the union that had only ever been part of politics and power.

Beyond Twilight’s Veil (In Planning) - When Risen begin appearing in Ylisse, Chrom ventures into Plegia on Emmeryn’s behalf to try to find a joint solution, meeting and readily befriending Robin along the way.  When things go wrong, leaving Robin half-transformed and Validar dead, the Shepherds are forced to flee Gangrel’s pursuit; two years later, Robin claims the Plegian throne and reaches out to Ylisse in an attempt to rebuild lost friendships.

War Crimes (In Planning) - A collab with anankos; the Exalt of Ylisse becomes a willing host to Naga’s power in a bid to wipe Plegia off the map, but the Fell Dragon’s return puts the war in a deadlock.  Chrom is kidnapped and brought to Plegia in a desperate bid to open diplomatic channels, but when that fails he ends up as as a guest and becomes unlikely friends with Robin, the son of a Plegian tactician (who has more than a few secrets).

Manwearer (In Planning) - After becoming separated from his mother, Robin is raised by the taguel of Panne’s warren.  On hearing about a threat to the Exalt’s life, the warren mobilizes to her aid, and Robin and Panne ally with the Shepherds to uncover the deeper mystery behind the attack. 

Assassin’s Creed: Awakening (In Planning) - An Assassin’s Creed AU; when Emmeryn is kidnapped and slated to become a Grimleal sacrifice, Chrom and the Shepherds rush to save her – only her rescue comes at Plegian hands, instead.  Defying his crusading father, Chrom chooses to stand by Robin and ends up embroiled in a millennia-old conflict between secret forces.

Smoke and Mirrors (In Planning) - A Pokemon crossover AU; Robin and her Zoroark Reflet (who prefers a human guise that passes for her brother) join with Chrom, a Pokemon Ranger branching out into competitive training; and his sister Lissa, an aspiring pokemon medic.   This brings them into conflict with the Grimleal who are hunting for the Legendary Pokemon Giratina – a pokemon that Robin and Reflet have a very curious connection to.

Sibling AU (In Planning) - Grima is Robin’s older brother and unwilling puppet ruler of Plegia; when Emmeryn invites the recently-crowned king to Ylisse for diplomatic discussions, Grima sneaks his younger brother along to show him the world he’s never had a chance to see, and both unexpectedly find new friends in what they long believed were enemy lands.

Cardcaptor Lissa (In Planning) - A Cardcaptor Sakura crossover AU where Lissa accidentally unseals the Book of Naga and releases magical cards into the world; with the help of a tiny dragon named Tiki, she has to recapture them all before Grima reawakens to usher in the end of days. 

Promare AU (In Planning) - A Promare AU; after Chrom thwarts a group of Grimleal dark mages from kidnapping an Ylissean family, his world is turned upside down by a series of shocking revelations, and he chooses to side with Robin to save the Ylissean Grimleal imprisoned by his father’s orders.

As You Are (In Planning) - Robin comes to Ylisse on a diplomatic mission, hoping to warn the Exalt of a potential threat; when an attack leaves the Plegian blind, Chrom confesses his feelings – only to be rebuffed as Robin believes that the feelings are born of guilt, leaving Chrom to grapple with what he fears are unrequited feelings.

Pride and Joy (In Planning) - Raised in Plegia under Mustafa’s care, Robin is drafted into Validar’s assassination attempt on Emmeryn – but decides that the orders should not be fulfilled and defects, saving the Exalt’s life.  In the trials to follow, Robin tries to keep the Ylisseans safe from Gangrel’s forces without exposing her own wavering loyalties.

Prisoner of War (In Planning) - The Exalt’s war has left Plegia in ruins, its citizens scattered and the remnants of the army using guerrilla tactics to oppose the crusade.   When his father calls him to the front, Chrom is captured by the Plegian resistance, and rapidly discovers that everything he thought he knew about Plegia (and the Heart of Grima who took him captive) is wrong.

Speaker for the Dead (In Planning) - Raised under Validar’s cruel abuse, Robin exists as little more than a hollow shell, surviving each day on the battlefield.  When Chrom reaches out to him and offers a glimpse of something better than the threat of death, Robin cautiously accepts and gradually begins to recover from the traumas of Validar’s upbringing.

Design Defect (One-Shot) - A modern AU where Robin is the son of the head of the Grimleal mafia who enters Ylisstol University and meets Chrom, son of Exalt Corp’s CEO and the heir to the family company.  While Robin might have some ulterior motives for getting close to Chrom at first, he quickly gets in over his head.

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Kintsugi (In Planning) - A Golden Deer-based golden route, where Claude decides from the moment he reunites with Byleth that they’re going to save as many lives as possible.

Pre-Timeskip Fix-It (In Planning) - A Black Eagles-based fix-it AU where Byleth gets to shut down Edelgard’s alarming rhetoric every time she opens her mouth, and the Imperial princess stumbles her way through the process of becoming a better person.

Spite Project (In Planning) - A canon-divergent AU where the question of “what would have happened if Edelgard had hired Miklan to kill Claude and Dimitri at the start of the year?” leads to Claude and Dimitri saving each other in more ways than one. 

Bad End AU (In Development) - A Crimson Flower AU exploring the logical consequences and fall-out associated with Edelgard’s conquest of Fodlan, her deceptions regarding the Agarthan menace, and her choice to kill Claude at Derdriu.

Proof of Life (One-Shot) - After establishing an uneasy alliance at Gronder, the joint Kingdom and Alliance forces proceed north to free Faerghus from Imperial control.  On the way, Dimitri and Claude are ambushed by an Imperial assassin, leaving Claude seriously injured; on the way to safety, though, Dimitri is shaken by the Alliance leader’s words, and begins to question his purpose and his ultimate goals.

Fire Emblem: Heroes

Hard Reset (In Planning) - A bad-end Heroes AU where Muspell invades Askr and wipes out the Order of Heroes – but before Surtr can kill Kiran, they fire Breidablik, which somehow transports them to another Zenith.  Taken in by the Emblians, Kiran sets about trying to prevent the ruin that befell the world they were first summoned to.

Controlled Chaos (One-Shot) - In the midst of battle against Muspell, Kiran is taken prisoner by Laegjarn and whisked away from the field; when the leaders of the Order elect to wait, the Heroes take matters into their own hands -- led by the last Hero anyone would have expected.

To The Last (One-Shot) - Though peace has finally established between Askr and Embla, Kiran is unexpectedly struck down by an old illness from their life before they were summoned; the Heroes band together in hopes of finding a cure...but in the end, it all comes down to a prayer.

Promare

Life Goes On (In Planning) - My Promare magnum opus and a direct sequel to Send the Scourge, Send the Swarm exploring the Parnassus aftermath, the Promeopolis Burnish and their recovery and reintroduction to society, and the gradual evolution of the city through the combined influence of the wider Federation and the growing Burnish activism movement. 

The Enemy of My Enemy (In Planning) - A canon-divergent AU where Lio and the Mad Burnish managed to save those captured by Freeze Force before they were taken to the Lake Friege detention center; after awkwardly helping the Mad Burnish slip through Kray’s trap, Galo inadvertently becomes entangled with the affairs of the terrorist organization.

Pokemon

Project: Elements (In Planning) - My Pokemon magnum opus following a scientist in Team Rocket who discovers that her genetic theory has been put into practice without her knowledge or consent; taking charge of the project herself, she finds herself warring with the ethics and morality of her work when young lives hang in the balance.

Pokekids (In Planning) - Based on an FYCD prompt meshed with an original story in development; the story revolves around an original region and original characters setting out on their journey, the challenges they meet along the way, and the friends they make in the process.

InuYasha

The Rising Wind (Complete) - An AU fic based on loveyou-x3000′s Wind Prompt, exploring the aftermath of Kagura’s death, her revival in a borrowed human form, her developing bond with Sesshomaru, and their eventual family.

Maelstrom (In Planning) - A canon-divergent AU where Sesshomaru diverts Kagura after she betrays Naraku, preventing her death at his hands; as she becomes ingrained within the group, though, Naraku sees an opportunity to make use of her even when she is not within his direct control.

Ace Attorney

Crime of Passion (In Development) - My Ace Attorney magum opus; Miles Edgeworth is once again accused of murder and taken in by police, but this time Phoenix Wright won’t be able to take his case -- because the victim of the crime is none other than the defense attorney.  It’s up to Maya to defend the prosecutor this time, while Miles is forced to confront the hard truths about his relationship with the missing lawyer.

[fireemblems24]

I think that some people, and not only Edelgard, make a confusion between disinherit and disown. Margrave Gautier has indeed disinherit Miklan because Sylvain had a crest and him not and it was indeed kinda unfair. BUT Miklan has been disowned (so has been kicked out of his home and lost his name) AFTER have tried to kill Sylvain (few times) and HERE it is normal. So he was still a Gautier until he tried to kill his brother(and you don't let your eldest son near of your youngest son after that)

You know what I think? I think if Miklan was a second son no one would “defend” him. 

It’s weird as hell to me that anyone would use Miklan as an example of the awfulness of the “Crest System” because you’re essentially arguing against an arbitrary system of inheritance with a different one (albeit it the Crest System makes more sense than first-born son gets all). 

Because in what world is Miklan more qualified to lead than Sylvain? Only one that puts more importance on being the first person with a dick to pop out of someone’s womb.  

[sinical-boar]

A Deep Scar[FE3H]

“How Miklan got the deep scar on his face and how Sylvain learned to fight back against the abuse.”

CW: Implied Child Abuse, Blood, Violence

AO3 Version:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/31524533

Tumblr version below the cut. (Sorry for the format I rarely advertise fics on tumblr haha)

Sylvain's heart dropped as soon as he heard heavy footsteps draw closer to the drawing room's door. Only one person could be trailing him and Felix with such fury.

"Felix. Hide.. now!" Sylvain pushed Felix towards a couch to hide behind.

"But-" Felix tried to protest in fear for his friend.

"I'll be okay..just hide." Sylvain winced hearing Miklan begin to kick at the door.

"I can hear you brat!! So you got out of the pig pen huh? I found you by your footprints you dirty little bastard, oh man Dad will be so mad at you getting his drawing room dirty.. Hahahaha maybe I should punish you for him. It's only right for a spoiled brat like YOU!"

Felix quickly crawled behind the couch and was low enough to see under it. His body shook and he almost wanted to cry once the door was successfully kicked open. Sylvain backed up against a cabinet with eyes as wide as dinner plates. His body was still covered in mud that was mixed with some blood from where the pigs cut him.

"Miklan..please-" Sylvain pleaded in vain.

"Oh please Sylvain, spare the water works. You knew when you escaped, that I'd be furious with you. That's what you do best, you pluck at everyone's last nerve like the burden on society that you are. The only reason anyone gives you the time of day is because why? ANSWER THE QUESTION!" Miklan roared.

"M-My crest.." Sylvain whimpered.

Miklan laughed, "That's right. "

Sylvain cried out as Miklan grabbed him by his hair and tried to raise him up by it. Felix covered his mouth as he tried to suppress a cry. He hated seeing Miklan to do this to his best friend. He hated Sylvain having to put up with blow after blow from Miklan. It was always some new way to get his best friend killed, all because he had been born with a crest. Miklan wasn't like Glenn. He was a horrible older brother, or perhaps a monster wearing a face of a brother.

When Miklan kicked Sylvain in the gut, it knocked all the wind of Sylvain's chest and caused him to topple to the ground. He desperately coughed and gasped for air while Miklan just grinned.

"STOP IT!!" Felix impulsively shouted then promptly covered his mouth in fear.

MIklan turned towards the couch and smiled more, "Well well.. I should have figured you had a friend help you out Sylvain.. you aren't nearly strong enough to get out of that pen by yourself."

"NO!!!" Sylvain shouted.

Miklan moved the couch out of the way to see the small Frauldarius heir shaking in fear.

"Oh what a surprise. Another crest child." Miklan sneered in disgust, "What's the matter? Don't have your big brother to protect you? Or better yet, you can't even cry to Sylvain to save you."

Felix tried to crawl away but Miklan grabbed his leg and yanked the boy towards him.

"I might do Glenn a favor actually. Without you around maybe he'd have less things to worry about. Little brothers are nothing but parasites after all," he smirked.

Sylvain rose to feet and watched in horror as his brother set his sights on Felix. Normally his body would freeze up at any time Miklan was nearby, but this was different. His blood felt like it was practically boiling underneath his skin. He could bear the brunt of his brother's abuse for years in silence. He could nearly die at almost every turn. He could hide the scars and play it off as being clumsy.

Felix getting caught in the crossfire of his brother's wrath was his biggest fear, but his body would not seize up.

Sylvain felt his feet pick up on their own as he ran towards the wall where one of his father's swords were hung up on display. He gripped the handle and pulled as hard he could to yank it off the wall. To his surprise, the sword came off it's display with great ease and he gripped the hilt as tight as he could. Sylvain had wielded a sword before a few times when Glenn or Ingrid let him play with one. This time the sword was real. It could cut someone. It could HURT someone.

That was exactly what Sylvain was hoping for. Sylvain made just enough noise to get Miklan's attention to turn towards him. He had a dagger in hand ready to cut Felix like a holiday bird.

"What the hell-" Is all Miklan could say before Sylvain charged at him.

The sword felt almost weightless in Sylvain's hands and he couldn't explain why. It moved as if it was an extension of his own arm. Without a second thought, he jumped and slashed at his brother's face with all his fury. Felix gasped when he witnessed Sylvain...glowing? He could see a symbol faintly form behind Sylvain. He had little time to read though, as Miklan dropped him without hesitation onto the floor.

"AUUAUUGHH!!" Miklan cried out holding his face in his hands.

The blood poured out of his face and into his eyes. He could barely keep them open as he roared in anger like a wounded animal. Felix quickly crawled away from Miklan and went right behind Sylvain. The glow around Sylvain had faded as Sylvain quickly dropped the sword.

"Are you okay?! Did he hurt you?" Sylvain said while looking for any cuts or scrapes on Felix.

Felix shook his head, "No he didn't.. this blood is his I think."

Sylvain grabbed Felix and ran out of the drawing room as fast as their feet could carry them

The boys could breathe easier once Sylvain locked the bathroom door behind him and they both practically sunk to the floor. Felix hesitantly glanced over at Sylvain, who stared off into the floor with a nasty thousand yard stare. Sylvain snapped out of it once he realized Felix was looking at him and felt his eyes begin to water.

"Felix I'm so sorry.. You shouldn't- I shouldn't have let him that close to you. I'm sorry I was dumb enough to try to run back into my house I knew he would be here and you'd be in danger I'm so-"

"-Brave." Felix interjected.

Sylvain looked at his friend in confusion, "What? Why would I be brave??"

"Sylvain you just stood up to Miklan! You used a sword and slashed him in the face! You..." Felix paused, the memory of Sylvain glowing filled his mind, "You activated your crest."

"I-I did???" Sylvain looked down at his muddied hands, "Maybe that's why it felt so light to me. It felt like my body was on fire but not like it hurt! It was like I had to move more than anything."

He slowly rose to his feet and looked at the mirror above his sink. The crest that made him suffer from Miklan year after year, saved him. No not just him, it saved Felix. It activated because he threw himself at Miklan to protect Felix. Sylvain chuckled and tried to wipe his eyes but the mud just made them sting.

"Hang on-" Felix got off the floor and helped Sylvain clean up his face with a wet rag.

"I'm sorry Felix." Sylvain apologized again.

Felix just shook his head, "Don't. I should be thanking you, you saved me from him after all. I'm happy you finally stood up to him, even if it was because of me. You never deserved this, because of your crest.."

"Yeah.. you're right," Sylvain washed his hands and took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm not gonna just take it anymore! You almost got hurt, who knows who else might get mixed up in my dumb brother's warpath?!"

Felix watched Sylvain stand stronger than he'd ever seen him before. There was no glow from his crest of Gautier, but he had a different kind of glow that surrounded him. He almost seemed like a completely different kid than the one he watched freeze upon seeing Miklan. This Sylvain had strength the other couldn't possess.

"I am never going to stop fighting him. Even if I know I'm going to lose, I will not let you or any one else get hurt by him!" Sylvain proclaimed with an expression overflowing with intense determination.

"Even yourself..?" Felix hesitated.

Sylvain paused for a second and nodded.

"I'm never going back into that well.. or the pig pen.. or even into a dungeon without putting up the fight of my life. I promise you Felix, I am not going to die before you if I can keep fighting."

Felix couldn't help but smile from ear to ear, "I promise too. I can't have you showing me up."

Sylvain laughed lightly, "Then we'll die on the same day. I'll hold you to this."

"So will I." Felix smirked.

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

How would the blue lions react to facing/killing their s/o from pre-timeskip in battle?

[Wow, this actually upset me pretty hard when thinking about it lol. This kind of trope always gets me even if it’s being done by two characters that I don’t really like. It doesn’t help that there’s a thunder storm outside that’s making me feel emo. Thank you for the request, I hope you like it!] 

Dimitri: 

He’s slaughtered so many enemies that there is no more hesitance. His past self felt remorse for those he killed, and after each battle he would reflect on the dead. Unlike now. 

He still remembers, but he doesn’t feel guilty. They opposed him and stood in the way of his revenge. To Dimitri, the people he faces in battle are nothing but walking corpses awaiting his blade 

The professor had given him orders not to approach any of his old classmates. They wanted to try and save them 

He brushed it off as a wasteful effort

“An enemy is an enemy. I care not for who they are or were, I will kill them if they stand in my way” 

A regret he’ll live with for the rest of his life 

The entire battle was a blurred frenzy. In his state of mind all the cries of those he killed mixed together. He knew not of who or what met his blade 

Only when he saw the distress among his inner circle did he realize: he killed you, and he did it without pause

The professor didn’t get their opportunity to talk with you, and you barely stood a chance against his onslaught 

Another soul to haunt him 

Another loss he has no right to mourn 

Another reason to be called a monster 

Dedue: 

Once reacquainted with his fellow Lions Dedue swore himself to the cause. He would fight without pause till his dying breath 

It seemed that having him back was a boost for moral on their end as well, and he felt genuinely relieved to see that ‘everyone’ was alive and safe 

Originally he assumed that you weren’t recruited for the battle at Gronder and that he could visit you at the monestary. 

When inquiring about your whereabouts to his highness he only received a scowl. It wasn’t something new for Dimitri’s personality so Dedue decided to search during his free time

He spent ages walking around with the expectation of finding you...so, why weren’t you there? 

He’d ask the professor if you’ve gone on another mission only to see one of their rare grimaces

Hearing that you’re fighting for Edelgard confuses him. He was certain that your loyalties lied with the kingdom. With a stoic demeanor he’d drop the topic and never bring it up again 

Dedue may seem like a blind puppy who serves Dimitri, but he does have his own opinions. He just holds them back well 

People mistake it for indifference. Felix takes a few shots at him for his lack of emotion 

“You’re telling me that (Y/N)’s not here and you don’t care? Weren’t they your s/o?”                                                                                                 “My personal feelings do not matter. If they oppose his highness then there is nothing left to discuss”                                                                “You two really are a match made by the goddess. A heartless dog for a feral boar” 

When the time comes to cut you down he hovers near your body after the battle. When your buried the grave will never be empty. Every week comes with fresh flowers, and never is there any debris on your stone 

Felix:

It was your own fault. If you had backed down like the others then this could have been avoided 

If he didn’t do it then someone else would have. If he didn’t then you would have killed him instead

No. No you wouldn’t. 

Felix knows that if the roles were reversed he would still be alive

How many people is he going to lose for the sake of the boar? First his father...now- now this 

He assumed that after not seeing you in battle once that he was in the clear. You weren’t at the reunion so clearly something else must have been keeping you from coming back 

He still could find you after this ended and you both could test your metal like the old days 

It was the one relief he had  

He wasn’t expecting to see you fighting at her side. Despite his stubborn behavior his affections towards you were obvious to everyone during his youth; something the ‘Emperor’ must have saved as a trump card 

It was his responsibility to either make you see reason, or to end it all. He had not come this far just to die from old sentiments 

“I will say this once. Get out of my way (Y/N) or I will cut you down” 

You wouldn’t move or even fight back. They obviously made you into a human blockade. It was a swift death, something he continues to remind himself of

That was his final battle, one that left his sword heavy and thoughts lax 

The future he longed for is gone, so this damn war better have been worth it 

Ashe: 

Ashe doesn’t like violence. He’s a firm believer that everyone is worthy of a second chance and that people sometimes do bad things for the right reasons. A life is a life, and it is precious 

Each morning he wakes is a reminder of how lucky he is to be alive. There is no guaranteed tomorrow, and each day could be his last 

He knows because he watches. He watches as the people he used to call friends die for what they believe in. In their mind they are fighting for what they think is right, just as he is 

but he wasn’t prepared to fight you

Anyone but you. He prayed to the goddess the moment he noticed that you weren’t at the reunion. He wished for your safety, and hoped that you were not on the opposing side

He prayed that the goddess wouldn’t take you to her side 

Despite being away for so long, he still loved you. That feeling was one of the few things he still held onto from his teen years 

All faith was shattered when you appeared at the Valley of Torment. What a fitting scenery for how he felt 

“Professor, let me try to convince them. No matter what happens I have to try” 

and try he did. He begged you to switch sides once you were defeated but it was no use. You were doing what you thought was right 

He couldn’t kill you, his bow wouldn’t hold steady even if he tried. The professor took it upon themselves to do it in his stead 

He was grateful for their interference, but the image of your body won’t ever be erased from his mind 

From then on he visits the church after every battle. He’ll sit at the same pew for hours and reconcile over what he could have done differently 

He’d wonder why good people had to die for another’s benefit 

Sylvain: 

Sylvain finds the situation deplorable. Yet another person fallen to the system

Seeing you on the other side reminded him of Miklan, except you weren’t fighting to gain something. You fought for the side that wanted complete reorder

He thought your loyalties lied with the Kingdom, with him, but people change. The fire behind your attacks only fueled the questions within him. 

Questions that he wasn’t 100% sure that he wanted answers to 

Sylvain knows hatred, but just what happened to make you willing to give up everything? 

He knows better than to blame himself. People didn’t know him for being the perfect partner, but there was nothing he or anyone else could have done to change your mind 

What was he supposed to do? Lock you in the prison?Then what? It would only cause more issues. Seeing you in chains or in a cell isn’t something he could handle 

You were one of the few people to break his barriers and see beyond the stigmas that others gave him. It was his turn to try and see your side of things, but he was too late 

Just one more failure to add to the list. He failed his house, his brother, his friends, country, and now you 

After the encounter he’ll be even more unmotivated than before. He only trains because Felix forces him, and never attends any of the extra lectures offered. His humorous mask basically dissolves to reveal what he’s always been hiding: exhaustion and despondence 

If anyone tries to comfort him they’ll be brushed off

“Look, would you leave me alone? Don’t act like you understand when you can’t”

No one can, and he doesn’t want them to. He wouldn’t wish this hurt onto his worst enemy. 

Annette: 

She knew. It wasn’t the first time someone important had vanished from her life. People do not leave without reason 

She knew that you were on the Empire’s side. She knew that there was a high chance of facing you in combat 

Her father even brought up the possibility when they were alone together. He encouraged her to back down, but she insisted that all would be okay

It did not brace her for the hollow feeling of seeing your corpse 

Normally when Annette is sad she’ll garden. If she can’t sleep then the first thing she does is go water the plants while humming one of her little tunes 

So, she does. She pretends as if you two never reunited because it’s the only way she can push forward. With the situation as it is there is little optimism among the troops, she can’t afford to give in 

She turns her grief into strength and volunteers to help around the monastery 

As long as she’s busy then it’s okay. When she’s working then her thoughts can’t wander 

Eventually it will settle in though, and she’ll want to vent. Out of everyone she’ll most likely go to Mercedes since she also has someone dear to her on the other side 

“I-I don’t know what to do Mercie. It h-happened so fast but I can’t forget it!” 

Annette is strong, and will remember you as you were to her. Not a ruthless enemy, but as someone she cherishes 

Mercedes: 

After the fight she’ll visit your old room. It hadn’t been touched in so long that dust coated nearly everything 

The Empire had claimed Emile, and now you as well. When you fell it took all her willpower not to cast a healing incantation 

It wasn’t what you wanted. The professor had offered mercy, but you chose death 

A freedom she had no right to take away. With swift words she ended your life as peacefully as possible 

It came as a shock to those nearby. If she had let the professor handle the deed then perhaps the pain would be lessened  

But for some reason she couldn’t do it. Despite the tears in her eyes she refused to let you be pierced by a blade. An incantation would be more swift, painless, and leave your body as it was 

While reminiscing in your quarters she’ll tidy up the space. She’ll admire your handwriting on the withered papers, sift through what books you had been reading, and eventually the room will be good enough to be inhabited again 

Except no one would ever sleep here again, she knew it in her heart 

However, Mercedes also knows that it was your choice. She won’t blame herself over your death, but instead use it as a driving force to protect the people she cares about who are still alive 

“May the goddess guide you to eternal peace. I will never forget our time together (Y/N)” 

Ingrid: 

She wonders if it’s ‘her’ that’s the issue 

Everyone she loves is gone. Dimitri is a shell of his former self, Glenn passed, her family’s in shambles, and now you have vanished as well

Ingrid doesn't like to show weakness in front of others, but there’s only so much one person can handle 

Even a war-machine feels anguish from striking down people they care about. Ingrid has felt the hardship of losing a lover, but to be the hand striking the blow? How much strain can someone put on their emotions before everything snaps 

The days after the world is unanimated. She continues on with her normal regime as if it was a minor bump in the road. Yet food has no flavor, training leaves her body weak, sleep is difficult to come by, and when people speak it’s as if there’s no tone to their voice 

He sorrows become rage. She focuses all her negative feelings towards ending the war and it’s horrifying. Ingrid is known for her composure but if you gave her an eye-patch then the prince might have a twin

“This fight has drawn out for too long. Too many innocents have perished, and at the rate we’re going at there will be no future to speak of. Professor, my sword is yours. Let us finish this once and for all”

Pity those who cross her path. If women truly are made of ‘sugar, spice, and everything nice’ then your death has tossed five tablespoons of cayenne pepper into her mix.

[emblemxeno]

For me, Miklan was not really a good person. I mean yeah he was crestless and was bitter to see his little brother stealing everything from him but he has tried to kill him, apparently few times, and at this point we can't just say "poor Miklan''. If he's jealousy pushed him to try to commit fratricide then he was not a nice guy. Being crestless doesn't make people incompetant or stupid after all. He could have tried, but he made his choice when he targered his hate on little Sylvain.

The game wants you to feel bad for him (especially on Black Eagles) because he had such a hard life and was tossed aside. 

But as you said, he did so many horrible things that I hardly feel any sympathy at all. The Abyss dlc only solidified it, as Yuri says that Miklan kidnaps random women too.

[gascon-en-exil]

I think that some people have maybe not fully understand what happened with Miklan. He has been out off of the sucession when Sylvain (heir with crest) is born, like Dimitri's uncle when Lambert (heir with crest) is born. But Miklan has been disowed only when he has tried to kill his little brother, few times, by jealousy. people can feel bad for him but if he was ready to kill a child out off jealousy maybe he was not so "innocent" and maybe it's too easy to blame the crest. what do you think?

I do think the bit about Miklan trying to kill his brother gets overlooked, at least by Edelstans trying to turn him into some weird kind of martyr figure. I believe it receives more attention from Sylvain’s fans who like to milk it for angst potential, but I’m not familiar enough with that corner of the fandom to say for sure.

[seasaltmemories]

Never Love an Anchor

Rating: M

Summary: There was a familiar restless energy to Sylvain, the same tense composure she saw whenever he was flirting with another girl who he’d throw away a week later. And for all the wounds she hadn’t been able to heal in time, for all those she had been forced to leave behind, a slow creeping voice in the back of her head told Mercedes that she might be able to at least fix this problem.

~

 “When next we meet, I will kill you without hesitation.”

Those words rattled around Mercedes’ head like a stubborn coin that refused to leave its pursue no matter how hard she shook it. Usually she wasn’t quite this good at turning over her thoughts for so long. For schooling, it was a curse, but for the rest of her life it was a blessing. She had seen the way those who had truly suffered grew bitter and resentful towards the Goddess, unable to let go of their pain. And well, maybe her life hadn’t have been all sunshine and roses, but Mercedes had never wanted to be like that. Life was easier when she relaxed and let Her divine hand guide her through life.

But after eighteen long years of hanging onto memories of her sweet baby brother, it was difficult to not grasp the few scraps this Death Knight gave her like a vice. She didn’t know what good carrying them would do, but if there was one thing she couldn’t hand over to the Goddess so easily, it was Emile. Letting go of his hand to run away with Mother had been the worst choice of her life. Even if all that these remnants of him brought was guilt and anguish, she feared more what she might lose if she let go of them too.

What would it feel like if you didn’t resist and instead let his scythe slice right through you? You’ve seen doctors cut through flesh to remove deadly diseases. Maybe if you didn’t struggle, he’d have pity and only carve out your regrets.

Mercedes’ eyes flew open. She didn’t know what inside her broached such a morbid suggestion, but she knew she didn’t have the courage to turn back and face it. She only realized where she was turning to instead when she the cold air began to nip the back of her neck. Her body was better at taking care of others than herself, so if she couldn’t sleep it must have decided without her that she might as well help the others rest more easily and get some chores done.

She floated like that for a while, letting everything from the cool stone of the floor to the silver moonlight take her attention away from the day's events. When Mercedes found herself in the kitchens, everything clicked. A few days ago, she had bought extra baking supplies from an Alliance merchant. It had cost more than the allowance the Professor suggested, but in the heat of the moment she had been so excited to gift Annette some of the sweets she had been craving. Maybe she hadn’t intended to sneak away and bake it in the middle of the night, but a breakfast surprise should be as good as any kind.

As she gathered her ingredients Mercedes hummed a wordless tune. There was a degree of practicality to it--singing helped her keep time and keep from getting too focused on one task--but it also had the nice side effect of calming her nerves. It was easier to control her breathing when there was a pleasant melody to entertain herself with. Her hands shook less when she had eggs to crack open with a precise touch. Loneliness was easier to swallow down when you knew people’s love wasn’t that far out of reach.

“So there’s our nightingale.” Mercedes almost dropped the mixing bowl from her arms out of surprise. It was only once she managed to field it onto the table that she was able to turn and face her eavesdropper.

“A little birdie like you should be careful about staying out this late. Never know what kind of animals would try to snatch you up.” Sylvain leaned against the doorway, grinning like a cat that had just spied his favorite meal. Since they had reunited, she had almost let those honey-brown eyes get to her. With his new height and bulk it had been easy to wonder if his flirtations had gained any weight as well. Still over time their old Monastery banter had returned to her.

“Hello Sylvain,” Mercedes smiled as she let all his innuendo fly past her without a second thought. “If it is so dangerous to be up, then what is your excuse?”

“I’m trying to climb back into any bed I can,” Slowly he made his way to the wine cellar. “Just need a drink to help me rest easier.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” On instinct she placed her body in-between him and the door. “Instead why don’t you try sticking to more traditional sleeping aids?”

Sylvain paused, a strange expression flitted across his face. She tried to decipher it, but it was gone in an instant and replaced with a cool regard.

“I don’t remember when I asked for your permission.” His voice was light and teasing, but that gaze of his cut through her with the same precision he’d take down a foe.

“I’m a medic, and I’ve been your medic several times.” While battlefield white magic was different from the work Manuela did, Mercedes wasn’t about to refresh him on the details. “Drinking yourself into a slumber is imprecise at best and can put your life in danger at worst.”

Sylvain didn’t say anything at first, just kept studying her like she was some battle map he was trying to commit to memory. It occurred to her then that she hadn’t put on a robe and her nightgown left very little to the imagination. Immediately she crossed her arms in an effort to regain a shred of decency, but then Mercedes began to wonder if drawing attention to her breasts when the night was so cold, when he was around riling her up was a good idea, or maybe--

“When did you get this?” While she had been caught up in her fretting, he had closed the distance between the two of them to play with Rafail Gem. It was another matter she had forgotten to attend to after today’s trying events. Or maybe her subconscious had decided to let it rest there as a physical reminder of the guilt she bore.

 There must be a part of him that still loves you if he is still protecting you like this? What remnants does Emile still hold of you? “When next we meet, I will kill you without hesitation.”

“I’ll tell you if you come and help me bake this cake. Once its in the oven, I’ll brew some tea that should make you sleep like a baby.�� It was bribery at its most blatant, but for whatever reason, Sylvain let the gem fall back against her chest and followed Mercedes to the cooking table.

“So why were you up?” It was about as subtle as an axe to the face, but if Sylvain thought anything about her pushing the conversation back onto him, he didn’t say anything.

“What would you say if I was awakened by a siren’s song and would have been driven mad if I couldn’t find its source?”

“I thought I was a bird not a fish.” She giggled.

“You’re getting sirens and mermaids mixed up. Mermaids are your fish ladies. Will eat your heart out, but at least they look hot. Sirens disguise themselves with their song and don’t even give you the decency of being eaten by a pretty face.”

“So I really must not be so beautiful anymore.” Mercedes gave an exaggerated sigh. “You know if you didn’t like my haircut you could have just said so.”

“No Mercedes, you look divine as always.” It was a well worn-out compliment, but despite herself, she couldn’t stop the heat from rushing to her core. She was so busy trying to squash it back down, she almost missed his next words.

“It would have been Miklan’s birthday tomorrow.” There was no flowery language to blunt the harsh reality of his confession, just a quiet whisper of words that could have been lost in the wind. The news was so dizzying, her body kinda kept functioning without her, still compulsively stirring the batter and smiling like an idiot. By the time she actually began to process things, Sylvain was rambling on with that same desperation as when he had disclosed what growing up with a Crest had been like.

“I don’t know why I remembered it tonight. I didn’t care at all when it came around the first time his blood was on my hands. But you know my father had forbid people from mentioning it back then. It always broke my mother’s heart to hear about him. That used to piss me off because I still remembered a year where he almost trampled me with the horse he had been gifted, but no, now that he was gone he was simply a tortured soul. But then again--”

“Sylvain.” She didn’t mean to speak quite so harshly, but she couldn’t hide the frustration in her voice. When he turned back to her with those beautiful, sad eyes, her heart nearly shattered in two. There was a familiar restless energy to them, the same tense composure she saw whenever he was flirting with another girl who he’d throw away a week later. And for all the wounds she hadn’t been able to heal in time, for all those she had been forced to leave behind, a slow creeping voice in the back of her head told her that she might be able to at least fix this problem.

In one elegant motion, Mercedes swirled her hand in the cake batter and extended her frost-covered fingertips towards his mouth.

“Taste it.”

“What!?” If it had been under any other occasion, then she might have savored getting to see him flustered for once in his life.

“I said you would get a treat for helping me.” It was strange to be the one throwing around innuendos now, but the longer she held her hand out, the more it made sense. There was no need to find a new heart to break when hers was already so worn and fragile.

“Taste it, please.” She didn’t mean for her voice to crack on that last word, but it seemed to be the last bit of goading needed for Sylvain to finally give in.

He gripped her wrist with both hands while his tongue darted out in quick bursts to clean each digit. While at first each flick was nothing more than a blur of pink, controlled, focused, and utterly devoid of any sensuality, after swiping the last remains of icing, he’d linger for just a half second--sending shivers down her spine. When he found a dollop of frosting had been smeared just above her knuckle and leveraged her hand further in his mouth so that he reach it, Mercedes couldn’t keep from gasping in pleasure.

Sometimes a little voice would try and chime in that in was a poor use of expensive ingredients to waste them on foreplay or it was evil of her to take advantage of his grief. But pleasure had a way of warming the back of her throat, making her hum so loud she drowned out all those inner demons. The Goddess had never disapproved of intimacy. There couldn’t be any harm in carving out her own island of happiness when she otherwise might cry herself a sea of grief.

When Sylvain was finished with his task, he stayed there, head lowered against her hand like a loyal dog. But the eyes that stared up at her were those of a wolf, sharp and hungry. There was a reason you weren’t supposed to feed wild animals, after whetting their appetites, they’d always come back around for more. Yet it seemed that he was still respecting the power dynamics she had established, waiting for her next order.

So she did what any person with a big broad man leering at her like that would do--she pushed away her cooking and lead him to her room.

She must have grown complacent, thinking she’d be able to take her time, because she turned back to the door to make sure it was locked. However before she could move from her spot, a warm breath of air tickled the curve of her neck, freezing her in place.

“You never did explain who gave you this.” His left arm was pressed against the door-frame, caging her, while his right played with the Rafail Gem again.

“What if I told you it was a thank you from your last bedmate for warming it after you left?” She didn’t know what creature controlled her tongue in that moment. Maybe it was the innocent part of her that would prefer returning to their usual teasing relationship rather than risk this confusing mess. Maybe the not so innocent part of herself wanted to goad him into a fit of jealousy, to be fucked against the door with about as much gentleness as she deserved. Deeper reflection might have found the culprit, but it occurred to her then that Sylvain had neither done nor said a thing all this time she was caught up in pitying herself.

Slowly, she looked over her shoulder. When she met those honey-brown eyes again, she didn’t see the skirt-chaser she was used to from her past, but the tired warrior she grown more and more familiar with these last few months.

“I’m sorry,” When she reached up to cup his cheek, he flinched, but before she could pull away, he covered her hand with his and brought it closer once more. “Truly I am.” She didn’t quite know what she was apologizing for, but the same feeling she got when she watched a dying man beg for healing she couldn’t give was clawing at her chest again.

With the same strange passivity of his tonight, he let her lead him to her bed. There, she arranged his limbs so that he was lying comfortably, like she used to when playing with her dolls as a young girl. One by one, she began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“You carry so much more pain than most realize.” She pressed butterfly kisses against his chest, traveling down lower and lower. “I can be so cruel sometimes, but you’re an invaluable friend.” She moved to untie the laces of his breeches, but before she could get them undone, Sylvain shot to life and grabbed her wrists. In one swift motion, he pinned her arms above her head and rolled onto her.

“Don’t you patronize me too. Not you.” He rocked his hips against hers, and it took all her will-power not to chase the sensation. “Don’t call me your friend while trying to suck my cock. I thought I was more to you than that.”

There was something disorienting being in a position like this. Good old Mercedes who did everything for everyone unable to move a muscle. She should be screaming, trying to break free at whatever cost, but instead a sick thrill curled itself in the pit of her stomach.

“Why don’t you prove it then?” That wicked tongue of hers spoke without warning.

Sylvain stared at her, stunned, and she felt the urge to apologize again. But that little voice inside herself told her to wait wait wait, see what this might get her.

If you can’t ever let go of things yourself, maybe it might be good to let someone else take it from you.

The kisses they shared were not the type she wanted anyone else to know about. When she and Annette had gossiped about blushing boys and giggling girls, she had always adopted that role of wise and unflappable Mercie. It was a preferable position to refashion her wasted years into a comfortable experience. And really there was something nice in showing someone the ropes, leading them gently to a shared sense of bliss.

But this...this arrangement opened her up to all new sorts of delights. There was a satisfaction in the feel of Sylvain’s hips pressing her against the mattress with no extra force than his natural weight, his tongue in her mouth, exploring every crevice of it, as if he was searching for something. There was a pleasure in being so thoroughly possessed, so when his right hand descended to fondle her breast, and she couldn’t help but arch into his touch.

“You sure act arrogant for someone so desperate,” His voice had transformed into a low growl she could feel travel from his chest to hers. “Were you just putting on airs earlier and trying to hide how much of a slut you really are?”

Heat transformed from arousal and into anger. “Don’t call me that.” Mercedes broke from Sylvain’s grip, hating the way her voice cracked. It made her sound like a child, and this was the last situation in which she wanted to return to those days.

But thankfully, Sylvain didn’t call her stupid or naive. Instead his left hand reached forward to brush the hair from her face.

“I apologize. I forgot you like it most when I’m honest.” He murmured. “If I’m telling the truth, then I can’t imagine a more radiant woman than you, Mercedes.”

The hand still fondling her breast pinched her nipple, and Mercedes was embarrassed by how loud a noise she made. Still if anything, Sylvain seemed almost giddy.

“Never knew my flattery was that good.” His laughter made her ears buzz. “You liked that didn’t you?”

Mercedes didn’t trust herself to use words, instead just nodding before shoving her face into his shoulder.

Sylvain chuckled again, making what few pieces of fabric that separated them seem all the flimsier. “Does he know your little secret? Does he make you feel as good as I do?”

“Stop playing games,” The Mercedes that hadn’t been a blushing virgin for over a decade grew back her spine. “Tell me I’m good, that’s all I want.”

Sylvain sighed as he lean down to press his forehead against hers. “I can’t imagine anything easier. You might be more holy than the goddess, herself.”

“Oh,” Of course that was when he decided to sneak a hand up her night-gown. The sudden chill might have been an adequate excuse for her shivering, but even as Mercedes adjusted, she could not stop the tremors.

“You’re the best of all of us, kind, patient. None of us deserve you, least of all me.” His clever hands danced up her inner thigh, teasing and refusing to touch her exactly where she wanted.

“So beautiful too. You’re like a portrait come to life. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.” He captured her mouth just as slide a finger into her, and it was all so overwhelming, Mercedes wondered if she might just keel over right then and there. Still something about the intensity with which Sylvain kissed, her seemed to demand she stay there with him. So she returned his affections the best she could, using her tongue, nails, and teeth.

Eventually though she must have gotten too enthusiastic because after he rubbing her in just the right spot, Sylvain pulled away from her with a hiss as he cradled his ear.

“Oh my!” Mercedes leaned forward to try and innocently examine the nick, but Sylvain pushed her back down, spreading apart her legs.

“Don’t worry about it. You can sink your teeth wherever want--already’ve carved my heart from chest. I don’t mind it as long as you promise you’ll be there to kiss it better.” He slipped another finger inside her and her embarrassment melted back into that glorious high that was building up inside her. So she tried to do as he asked, and peppered his injured ear with the softest of kisses as she begged and pleaded for him to bring her to release.

“Mercie I don’t think I could ever love another woman,” His breath was ragged, just the sound of it pushing her closer. “Marry me.”

Whiteness blinded her vision, leaving her all floaty and in a world where she couldn’t really understand his words. It was such a nice place, it probably was what let her entertain the idea for a moment, linger on how much she just enjoyed his presence and how devastated she’d be if she lost him.

And then she came back down to earth, where Sylvain was looming over her, waiting with his neediness on full display.

As she tried to catch her breath, her mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but the one thing that consumed her the most was the knowledge that she should have never let them make such a mistake.

After that, well it became impossible to keep from crying.

“I’m sorry,” Mercedes did her best to wipe her tears away, but they just wouldn’t stop falling. “It’s not your fault, I--”

“I told you not to patronize me!” His words felt laced with venom. “I’m not used to girls crying before we’ve even rolled out of bed but then I guess it is no wonder you got tired of me this quickly.”

“That’s not true!” She tried to tilt his chin so that he would look at her, but he pushed away her touch with a snarl. “Please listen to me Sylvain, I should have never taken advantage of you when you were so obviously grieving. I’m the lowest.”

Pure rage burned in his gaze, no longer so sweet and syrupy. “Was I just a pity fuck?! Just another little child to shut up? Is that why you won’t tell me who gave you that necklace? Don’t want to break a stupid kid’s heart when you got another man who actually--”

“For goddess’ sake, I got this from my brother after he said he wanted to kill me!”

Immediately it was like a spark of thunder magic had struck the room. Everything grew still as they could only stare at each other as her outburst finally set it.

“Fuck,” It was Sylvain who finally broke the silence. He buried his face in his hands. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Mercedes wondered if she’d ever be able to say those words enough for them to mean anything. “I’m sorry, please forgive me. I’m not proud of what I did, I just couldn’t bear to think of him tonight.”

“Fuck!” Sylvain slammed his fist against the mattress. “I’m such a fucking dumbass, my brain might as well be in my dick.”

“Don’t say things like that!” Mercedes brought his hands to her chest. “I was the one who seduced you. I led you on. I wanted you domineering and cruel. I brought this upon myself!”

Sylvain gave a laugh at that, but this one had been drained of any humor. “I was charmed by you the minute I heard your voice tonight. There’s just something so soothing about being around you. With Miklan haunting me, it was the only thing that made me feel like myself again.” He dropped his hands to his side as his frame began to tremble. “But then that isn’t a good thing in the long run, because seeing that gem made me a spoiled child. I didn’t want to have to share you with anyone else in the world. I didn’t want to risk losing your comfort.”

There was a fervor to his words that a few minutes ago might have lit a fire in her as well. But now, his shaking shoulders only signaled just how evil she truly was.

“I’m sorry,” Goddess, when would she stop babbling. “I don’t know if I can give you any comfort. I don’t know if I have anything left to give.”

She dashed out the room, worried that staying with him any longer might bring on a new wave of tears. However as the door slammed shut behind her, it was only then she remembered that it was her own room.

Oh you stupid girl

Mercedes collapsed against the heavy oak behind her when her knees gave way.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there--crying, curled against the door. It seemed now that she had opened the flood gates, her sadness wanted to make good on all the years she had tried to persevere and stay strong. But even eighteen years of self-loathing, of having to live with the weight of her inadequacy, had it waning points. Like a tide that had temporarily receded, she knew it would come back with a vengeance. But she had to pull herself together enough to do the awkward work of reclaiming her own room. She hated to be the one to make a mess, but at least she had gotten good at cleaning them up.

Tentatively, she returned to find, Sylvain still sprawled across her bed with that faraway look in his eyes. Just seeing him again made her want to find some hole to crawl and die in, but forced herself to be mature and sat down to join him.

"Did you mean it?" Mercedes asked in a quiet voice. "Do you really want to marry me?"

There was a huff of air, and then a much longer and more tired sigh.  "Since I thought there might be another man in your life, I figured it was time to lay all my cards out on the table.  I figured you had no reason to believe a love confession alone, so I thought a ring would convince you of my genuine feelings."

“Sylvain, I mean it with full sincerity when I say that I want the best for you,” Mercedes took a deep breath. “But I don’t want you to be in love with me.”

Sylvain shifted back and forth, “I know you probably see me as nothing more than a shallow pervert, but that doesn’t change the intensity of my feelings for you.” She looked down to find him drawing unrecognizable patterns into the mattress. “Even if you don’t return them, you’ll always be divine to me.”

“It’s not that I don’t feel anything for you, either,” Mercedes smoothed her skirts, infected by his nervous energy. “If anything, I was frightened because I do feel something.” She danced away from the exact four letter word. Such affection felt too much for her clumsy hands to hold.

“I can’t blame you, I don’t particularly like myself either,” He looked up at her now, that neediness still overwhelming. “I like to think I’m a better man when I’m with you though. If I can’t give you my heart, then at least take my admiration.”

Mercedes could feel her shoulders begin to quiver. “I don’t think you understand though. I’m not the angel you think I am.” She traced the Rafail Gem. “I’m good at acting the part of the caring older sister, but well my brother isn’t wrong to want me dead.”

Sylvain’s eyes narrowed. “Not wrong doesn’t mean right. You bring so much joy to everyone, I can’t imagine a world where your absence would bring anything but sadness to us all.”

“I know I’m good at giving!” She didn’t mean to raise her voice, but the few strands of her soul were starting to unravel again. “I give my blood and tears because there isn’t much else I have to offer. I try to be kind and good but every well dries up eventually.” Mercedes forced herself to look him in the eye. “When I run dry will you still love me? If I can’t make you a better man, what use am I as a wife?”

Sylvain’s hands came to a standstill against the mattress. Then slowly he curled his fingers into the sheets. “You know I never used to believe him. I always wanted to prove him wrong, but maybe Miklan was right about some things.” He stared at her with that tragic gaze. “Here I am treating you the way my father treated me.”

Mercedes blinked. “What do you mean?”

Sylvain’s fingers grazed hers, but they didn’t quite hold her. What might be mistaken for a grip was too loose and skittish to quite count.

“When was that last time someone took care of you? You’ve had to put up with the same bullshit as everyone else, but you didn’t even have your own Mercie to help you along the way.”

There was a part of her that wanted to push him away. It wanted to convince herself that this wasn’t sincere concern, but just the result of her manipulative guilt-tripping.

But slowly his hands danced up the side of her arms, persuading her into an hug. Once she began to trace the length of his spine, it became impossible to keep from just melting into him.

“His name is Emile.” Mercedes whispered against his shoulder. “That is all I can give for now, but please don’t let me go.”

As shaky as an embrace it was, Sylvain held her through the entire night.

A.N. I was in a writing exchange and my requester wanted smut about these two being disasters in very different ways.  So glad I get to share it now (also after writing his name so many times I am not sure if sylvain is a word)

[grimalkenkid]

Miklan, The Demon’s Shield

So, continuing off of my “Jeralt adopts Miklan” AU, the Academy Phase...

Part 3

One morning, right before they’re about to head into the Kingdom for work, three kids approach Jeralt in a rush, asking for help with a bandit group that’s after them.

Dimitri recognizes Miklan instantly and wants nothing to do with this mercenary band, but there’s no time and no other options, so he settles for keeping a very close eye on the ex-Gautier.

For his part, Miklan is worried Dimitri will spill the beans about how he attempted to murder his little brother to the rest of Jeralt’s mercs. He doesn’t want the past four years of camaraderie to be undone by the prince’s accusations. Thankfully, no one has time for that while they’re under attack, and Miklan’s got his hands full watching Byleth’s back. She’d been under the weather the past few days, after all, so he wants to make sure she’s safe.

After the battle, this guy called Alois basically drags Jeralt and his mercenary company to Garreg Mach. Miklan keeps out of Dimitri’s way, but the prince avoids him right back. Dimitri saw how protective Miklan was of Byleth, and he’s starting to become fond of the stony-faced girl as well. Dimitri decides to keep watching, wondering if this Miklan is different than the one he knew.

Once at the monastery, the company is then suddenly left without a leader, as Jeralt is conscripted back into the Knights of Seiros, and Byleth is made a professor seemingly on a whim. Most of the mercs decide to stick around and keep helping Jeralt, but Miklan’s at a loss. He really doesn’t want to stick around where people will recognize him; he doesn’t want to be “the Crestless, ex-Gautier kid” or “the jealous older brother” anymore. He wants to be Miklan, the mercenary. He’s considering striking out on his own -- despite how he hates to leave his found family -- when Jeralt takes him aside.

“Kid,” the old merc starts out, “I know you’re not comfortable here, and I’m not too keen on being here either, but I’ve got a request. Keep an eye on my daughter. Rhea’s up to something, but she’s already sending me out on missions that’ll take me far from here. I can’t watch Byleth myself, so I managed to convince Rhea to let one of my mercs be Byleth’s ‘bodyguard.’ And there’s no one I trust more with my daughter’s safety than you.”

So, of course Miklan agrees. The older mercs haven’t started calling him The Demon’s Shield for no reason, after all.

He’s given a spare room in the servants’ quarters which he’s hardly ever in. Jeralt told him to protect Byleth, and dammit that’s what he’s gonna do! Miklan sticks to her like glue unless she asks to be left alone. During classes, he’s sitting in the corner, watching everyone for signs of funny business.

Now, if only she hadn’t chosen to teach the Blue Lion House... because, besides Dimitri, he also has to deal with Ingrid and Felix...

And Sylvain.

Of course, Sylvain ain’t doing too hot, either. He can barely focus on the lectures, knowing that the man who tried to kill him multiple times is sitting in the same room. His grades start take an immediate nosedive, he’s always on-edge, and Dimitri’s constantly checking up on him, asking if he’s really okay with Miklan being at Garreg Mach. Sylvain tries to play it cool, because he may want his brother to leave, but he wants to get him kicked out even less. Goddess knows Miklan already has enough reasons to hate his guts.

So Dimitri enlists the help of Ingrid, Felix, and Dedue to make Sylvain feel safer. They’ll try to keep Miklan from entering a room Sylvain’s in, place themselves between the two brothers when they have to be in the same location, and make sure that Sylvain never sits by himself in class. It works okay, for a little while.

But one time Sylvain’s heading to the training grounds with Felix, and he’s not watching where he’s going. He walks straight into someone leaving the training grounds, and as he goes to apologize, he realizes just who he ran into. Miklan’s more surprised than angry, but Sylvain can’t tell the difference as his eyes are on the spear Miklan has resting on his shoulder. Sylvain panics and just books it for the dorms. He’s never run faster in his life. He doesn’t even realize where he is until he’s pounding on someone’s door, and Dimitri answers it.

“Can I hide here?” he begs the prince.

And Dimitri lets him. Because he knows the difference between Sylvain hiding from a girl and Sylvain hiding from Miklan.

But that was the last straw for Dimitri. He goes straight to Seteth, telling him all about the history between the Gautier brothers, and demands that Miklan be thrown out of Garreg Mach Monastery, at the very least. Dimitri actually would prefer Miklan be executed, but he doesn’t want to hurt Byleth by being responsible for her best friend’s death. Seteth listens to Dimitri’s concerns -- and agrees that Miklan could be a danger to the students -- but there’s no precedent for this particular situation. After all, Captain Jeralt trusts Miklan implicitly, and Rhea trusts Jeralt’s judgement, but something has to be done.

Miklan is placed under arrest. Officially, it’s for attempted fratricide, but in reality, it’s just to make sure Miklan can’t hurt Sylvain while they contact Margrave Gautier and bring him to the monastery to weigh in on the situation.

Jeralt is upset that one of his men is under suspicion, but he reluctantly agrees that they need to work something out. Byleth, however, is visibly put out... which means she’s filled with a fury borne of loyalty and friendship. She manages to keep it out of the classroom, but Dimitri gets a full dose of her ire during training. The prince accepts this as his just punishment for going behind her back, but he can’t help but feel like he did something horrible when she glares at him across the dining hall. He feels even worse when he sees her taking huge risks out on assignment, risks that wouldn’t even be concerns if she had her Shield like usual.

Eventually, Margrave Gautier manages to get Rodrigue to watch the border for him so he can go to Garreg Mach. He is... less than pleased to see his disowned son in a jail cell, but he just sighs, like it was an inevitability.

Margrave Gautier then joins Jeralt, Byleth, Dimitri, and Seteth (who’s standing in for Rhea) to discuss Miklan’s fate.

(This is turning into a goddamn series, isn’t it? Oh well... To be continued in Part 3!)

[nicolewrites]

your lot is with the ghosts of soldiers dead

More. Sylvain. Feels. This got more Sylvgrid that I intended, but hey, I just really love Sylvain and Ingrid. Do I have homework? Absolutely. Did I do this anyway? Absolutely.

The title is from Siegfried Sassoon's "To My Brother", for anyone who's curious.

Rating: T Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst Characters: [Sylvain Jose Gautier & Ingrid Brandl Galatea], Miklan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Words: 3,771

The night after Miklan dies, no one can find Sylvain.

AO3 | FFN

1177

His father had sent him away on the day that Miklan had been disowned. Of course, Sylvain hadn’t known this at the time. He had been 17 and happy to escort his mother into town without a second thought. His father had said nothing of the situation when he had returned home and Sylvain hadn’t given it a second thought until that night when he woke to a weight pinning him down on his bed and the sharp prick of a knife against his throat.

Miklan had been more than angry as he snarled at Sylvain. He had called him a thief of everything he was owed and a snake that stole his place. Sylvain, running entirely on adrenaline, had bashed the decorative stone on his bedside temple against his brother’s temple and shoved him off. The brothers had struggled on the floor for the knife until Sylvain finally got a good enough grip to force it down against his brother’s face for all the years of torment he had withstood.

Guards had arrived then, apparently having expected such actions from the disinherited Gautier son. They hauled Miklan out as he spat and cursed through the blood oozing from the wound on his face. Sylvain had been left alone in his room with the knife and his hands covered in his brother’s blood.

He scrubbed his hands for an hour to try to wash the blood out as Miklan’s voice howled in his ears.

Count Galatea came to visit three days later with his daughter. Sylvain entertained Ingrid with a wide smile and hands stained with blood that only he could see.

- ~ -

1180

Ingrid is almost ready to turn in for the night when there’s a knock on her door. She blinks wearily and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Coming!” she calls out and then flinches reflexively for Marianne’s sake right next door.

She pulls open the door and sees Dimitri and Felix standing in front of her. Dimitri looks concerned and Felix looks more peeved than anything else. Ingrid frowns, but pulls her door open further so her friends can enter her room.

“What is it?” she asks them, once Dimitri stalks past her and Felix huffs follows him in more calmly.

“Sylvain hasn’t been back to his room since we got back,” Dimitri says.

Felix scoffs and shuffles his weight. “He’ll be in town, picking up some girl again.”

“Felix,” Ingrid scolds sharply. “He killed his brother today. The least you can do is have some compassion.”

Felix narrows his eyes at her. “He hated Miklan. We all know that.”

Dimitri shakes his head. “That doesn’t make what he had to do any easier.”

Felix folds his arms, but he doesn’t argue further. Ingrid picks up on the slightest hint of pain in the Fraldarius heir’s expression, but she doesn’t push it. She’s been thinking of Glenn all day too.

“Where would he go?” Ingrid questions the boys.

Dimitri shakes his head, clueless. Felix considers for a moment longer, before offering up their first real idea.

“We had thought here, but since that’s not true maybe he went to find the Professor.”

Dimitri hums in consideration. “Maybe,” he agrees. “I can go check if you two would like to check anywhere else.”

“No,” Felix mutters. “I’m going to bed. Sylvain will find himself in the morning.”

He stalks out of Ingrid’s room without any room for argument leaving Ingrid with the prince. Dimitri sighs slowly and turns to face her. Ingrid gives him a sympathetic smile.

“We’ll find him, Your Highness. If you go check with the professor, I can ask around up here and we can reconvene downstairs if neither of us finds anything,” she suggests.

Dimitri nods, looking more relaxed already. “Thank you, Ingrid. I appreciate this.”

“I’m worried about him too,” she reminds.

Ingrid grabs her jacket from the back of her chair and extinguishes the lamp on her desk. She nods to Dimitri and they head their separate ways as he makes for the stairs to the first floor. Ingrid turns and knocks tentatively against Marianne’s door. There’s brief shuffling noise before Marianne cracks the door open curiously.

“Hello Ingrid,” she greets softly.

Ingrid smiles gently. “You haven’t seen Sylvain, have you?”

Marianne’s brown eyes widen curiously. “No, I haven’t,” she says quietly.

Ingrid nods. “I figured. Thank you anyways.” She turns to walk away when Marianne’s slender hand reaches out and catches her wrist. Ingrid turns back and sees the shy girl watching her with a worried expression.

“Is he alright? I heard what happened today,” she mumbles.

Ingrid presses her lips together. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” she admits.

Marianne nods and retracts her hand. “I hope you find him.”

“Me too,” Ingrid agrees.

She quickly climbs the stairs and knocks on Hilda’s door next. Hilda swings open her door quickly and steps out into the hallway, shutting it behind her. Ingrid blinks in surprise at the quick action as well as Hilda’s state of undress. The Goneril noble has three buttons on her blouse undone and her skirt is pulled entirely too high and there’s a high flush along her fair cheekbones. Out of reflex, Ingrid feels herself redden as Hilda crosses her arms over her almost open shirt.

“I haven’t seen Sylvain, if that’s what you’re going to ask,” Hilda says.

Ingrid nods. “Ah, well thanks anyway.”

Hilda tips her head and studies Ingrid for a moment. “You didn’t hear this from me, but someone saw Sylvain walking toward the stables a few hours ago.” She doesn’t give Ingrid much chance to process before she opens her door and disappears back into her room.

“The stables?” Ingrid wonders aloud after Hilda’s gone. Sure, Sylvain liked horses well enough, but it doesn’t exactly seem like the type of place he would retreat to when he is upset. Even so, it’s better than knocking on every door on the 2nd floor and bothering everyone.

She hurries back towards the staircase and makes her way back to the first floor. In the evening gloom, she can see a few monks and knights roaming about, but it’s almost curfew so she doesn’t see any of her fellow students. Ingrid wants to get to the stable as fast as possible, but she also wants to tell Dimitri where she’s going, so she finds a sort of compromise as she knocks on Mercedes’s door.

“Hello, Ingrid,” the older girl greets kindly as she opens the door. “What can I help with?”

“His Highness went to go see the professor to ask about Sylvain. I think I know where he is, but I was hoping you would be able to go tell His Highness that while I go ahead to the stables,” Ingrid explains quickly. She feels oddly jittery as she rocks onto her toes while she’s talking.

Mercedes nods sagely. “Of course! You go on, I’ll go find Dimitri.”

Ingrid nods and turns and breaks for the stable. She cuts across the fishing hole area and around toward the front of the monastery. Just as she’s rounding the corner towards the main gate, she sees Alois speaking with the Gatekeeper and she grimaces. She keeps her head down and tries to stride past them, but Alois calls out to her.

“Hey! Ingrid, it is almost curfew. Where are you off to?”

She doesn’t particularly want to explain that Sylvain is missing because that would only start a monastery-wide panic. “Just forgot something at the stable,” she lies instead. “I’ll head right back to my dorm after.”

Alois buys the lie and he waves her on. Ingrid exhales in relief as she rounds the outside of the monastery towards the stables. When she arrives, two of the lanterns are still lit, but there don’t seem to be any people around. Ingrid frowns as she turns to look around to see if there’s anything she might have missed.

Sylvain’s horse is in its stall and the mare whinnies when he sees her. Ingrid walks over and gently brushes her hand along the horse’s face. “You’re here, but where’s your rider?” she wonders aloud.

She glances over her shoulder and pauses when she sees that one of the wyvern hutches is open and the wyvern that’s normally there is missing. She pulls away from the horse and runs over to inspect the hutch. Sure enough, it’s the hutch of the wyvern that Sylvain has been practicing on lately.

“Sylvain, you idiot,” she mutters.

Quickly Ingrid walks over to the pegasus stables and finds her own mount. He noses against her hand when she extends it and seems fully willing to go for a late-night flight despite the strenuous activities from earlier in the day. She manages to get saddled quickly and swings herself up onto her mount.

As she takes to the sky above the monastery, she shivers against the wind. She’s no longer dressed to withstand the heights anymore so she hunches against the warm neck of her pegasus. She flies blindly towards the north end of the monastery and keeps her eyes peeled for any signs of Sylvain in the sky.

She circles the cathedral’s highest point and is about the head back empty-handed when the setting sun catches a glint of red on the roof of the cathedral. She pulls her mount to a halt in the air as she stares. It certainly appears to be Sylvain lying on his back on the tiled roof of the cathedral.

Ingrid swoops down toward him, anger building in her throat as she gets closer. She hops off her pegasus and lands jarringly on the roof. She shakes off the pain in her knees and waves her pegasus off. He’ll come when she whistles for him and there’s no good place for him to be on top of a roof.

“Sylvain!” she calls out, her anger bubbling in her tone.

From his position lying on the roof, he lifts his head until they make eye contact. His expression deadpans and he drops his head back to the roof without replying. If she hadn’t been mad before, she certainly is now.

“Of all the stupid places to run off to, why would you choose the Cathedral roof!” she yells at him. She picks her way along the tiles towards him and only slips once, but she’s never in any real danger of falling. Sylvain doesn’t reply, even when she reaches his side and is standing directly above him, looking down at him. “How did you even get up here anyway?”

Sylvain lifts an arm and waves lazily towards the spire of the cathedral and Ingrid spots the snoozing form of his wyvern. She folds her arms and narrows her eyes.

“If you’re here for a lecture, I really don’t want to hear it,” Sylvain says dryly.

Ingrid feels a bit affronted that he thinks she’s only here to lecture him. Sure, she had intended on giving him a bit of a lashing for scaring his friends, but she had also been worried about him. She shifts her weight along the slanted tiles and considers her words carefully.

“We were worried when you didn’t go back to your room,” she says.

Sylvain sits half-up abruptly. “We?” he scans the roof behind her, but when he doesn’t see anyone else, the tension drains from him and he lies back down. “Right. Heights.” He drops his head back to the roof with an audible thunk that makes Ingrid wince instinctively.

She studies him briefly and sees that he’s definitely still wearing the armour he wore on the mission, but the gash on his cheekbone has already healed to a faint pink line. It means he had at least had the sense to get aid from a white magic-user before coming up here.

“Sylvain,” she starts and he lifts a hand, waving her off.

“You found me. Can’t you leave me be now?”

Ingrid adjusts her weight carefully as she lowers herself to the roof so she’s sitting next to him. “If you could see yourself you’d understand why I can’t.”

Sylvain huffs. “What’s a guy got to do to brood in peace?”

The question is rhetorical, but guilt wells up in Ingrid’s throat. “Maybe not run off after a very stressful day,” she suggests mildly.

Sylvain falls silent and stares up at the darkening sky. At first, Ingrid thinks that he’s really not going to say anything else to her, but she watches him swallow harshly and the Adam’s apple of his throat bobs with the motion.

“There’s a word for it, you know,” he says suddenly.

Ingrid tucks her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them, suddenly feeling very sad and a bit out of her depth.

“Fratricide,” Sylvain mutters darkly, like he’s testing the word in his mouth. “The glorious act of killing one’s own brother.”

“Sylvain,” she argues gently. Hearing him say it with the bitterness sharp in her tone makes her all the more guilty.

He had put himself right on the front line in the fight. He had strived to get strikes in against Miklan. He had been reckless. Felix, Dimitri, and Ingrid had all seen it, even if their professor didn’t. The three of them had tried to push him away to save him the pain that the situation was causing; however, the Black Beast had gotten a lucky strike and had winded Ingrid’s pegasus, throwing her to the ground before it.

She had clutched her lance with a stifling fear and prepared for the heavy blow that would follow, but Sylvain cut in front of her on his horse, driving his lance through a weakness in the beast’s armour, protecting her and landing the last blow necessary to stave off the beast that Miklan had become.

“I always knew he was a monster, but that was pretty literal,” Sylvain continues bitterly. “Of course, I can’t exactly talk about this stuff with Felix or Dimitri and even with you, it feels wrong. All your brothers are still alive after all.”

Ingrid presses her lips together as sympathy pinches her expression. “Felix has lost his brother too. Maybe he would be more sympathetic than you think.”

Sylvain laughs sharply. “Yeah, that’s not the same at all. We all loved Glenn, Ingrid, and the goddess knows we all hated Miklan.” Sylvain’s eyes shut. “I used to love when Glenn and Felix came to visit because Glenn took none of Miklan’s shit.”

It had been true. Miklan was a few years older than Glenn and Sylvain was just a year and a bit younger than the older Fraldarius brother. Glenn was notoriously prickly to anyone who picked on his friends and seemed to make it his personal mission to ensure that Miklan knew he crossed a line when he targeted Sylvain.

Ingrid recalls, in particular, the one time that Margrave Gautier had sent knights to scour the eastern Faerghus lands when Sylvain had gone missing. Glenn had been instructed to watch over Ingrid and Felix while the knights of Galatea and Fraldarius were dispatched to aid in the search, but as it ended up, Glenn had dragged his brother and fiancé north to Gautier where they had found Sylvain half-dead in a well after only a few hours of searching. Ingrid recalls the hour it took to rescue him from the well as one of the most terrifying things she had ever experienced.

“No one will be upset that you’re upset about this,” Ingrid assures Sylvain.

Sylvain lolls his head towards her and frowns. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? I should feel bad, but I don’t. I’ve never felt more relieved in my entire life than in that moment when he stopped moving. It was so vindicating.”

Ingrid’s chest tightens. Tentatively, she reaches for one of Sylvain’s hands. He lets her take it and lace their fingers together.

“He tried to kill me the night after he had been disowned,” Sylvain confesses quietly.

Ingrid stiffens in surprise and Sylvain notices, skimming a thumb along the back of her hand to coax her back into relaxing.

“I woke up to him pinning me down on my bed with a knife at my throat. I hit him with that rock that Glenn had given me. We fought for the knife and I won.” Sylvain tips his head back and inhales shakily.

Ingrid studies his profile and the barely noticeable scar where one of the beast’s talons had caught his face earlier that day. Sylvain is usually so pretty and perfect, it’s almost weird to see him with even the slightest imperfection on his handsome features. He’s not done explaining, so she waits quietly for him to finish.

“I got him good with his own knife.”

Sylvain lifts a hand and mimes cutting a scar across his own face in the same path that Miklan’s scar had followed. Ingrid’s breath catches. She hadn’t known the origin of the scar.

“It took me a few weeks before I finally got all the blood off of my hands,” Sylvain mutters. His eyes open and he pushes himself into a half-sitting position where he can stare at Ingrid and his entwined hands. “Still bloody,” he mumbles.

Something in the bitter tone of his voice cracks and betrays more emotion than before. Ingrid shifts closer to him and Sylvain sits up fully. With her free hand, she reaches for his face, brushing lightly against his fading scar. Sylvain leans into her touch unconsciously, closing his eyes.

He looks so young and vulnerable in the deep dusk lighting. The cocky, skirt-chasing, Felix-taunting friend she normally sees is absent right now and she’s left with the childhood friend whose scars of abuse are showing through. Sylvain opens his eyes and Ingrid’s breath catches unconsciously at their closeness. Sylvain, for once, doesn’t seem to notice or care about the flush on her cheeks and he leans forward and presses his face into the junction of her shoulder and neck.

Ingrid slips her fingers into his hair and brushes at it softly. It’s a mirror to how Sylvain had acted after Glenn died when he had been the only one able to coax her out of her room. Sylvain shivers lightly against her touch and he tilts his head just enough to press a careful, open-mouthed kiss to the base of her neck.

Ingrid exhales slowly and her fingers tighten in his hair. After a moment of silence between them, Sylvain leans back and she sees that his amber eyes are darkened with tears. She slides her hand back to his face and wipes her thumb across the top of his cheekbone. Not for the first time, Ingrid appreciates how pretty Sylvain looks when he’s being open and vulnerable.

“You’re too good to us, Ingrid,” Sylvain says, his voice much lighter than it had been. Sitting next to her, he’s tall enough that he can lean forward and kiss her forehead lightly. “I’ve always loved you,” Sylvain says next and Ingrid’s chest seizes.

It’s a heck of a line, one that’s usually reserved for the toughest of women that he tries to flirt with and she hasn’t the faintest idea if he’s being genuine. He says it like it’s the truth and Ingrid desperately wants to know what love means to him. Does he love her as a friend? Or is it in the same way that she had loved Glenn and the way that she used to dream of Sylvain’s charming smile as a little girl?

The moment is all wrong. They’re on the roof of the cathedral of the monastery and just hours ago they were fighting for their lives against Sylvain’s older brother. She swallows all the words welling up in her throat and just lets Sylvain lean his head against her shoulder and they are just quiet.

“We’ll stay alive,” Ingrid says firmly. The ‘we’ needs clarifying, but she doesn’t want to qualify it.

“Alive is better than dead,” Sylvain murmurs in response.

They linger for another moment before Sylvain pulls back, pushing up to his feet. The second his warmth moves away from her, Ingrid shivers, but she takes his hand when he extends it to her.

“We can just fly back together,” Sylvain says. “I’ve made enough people worry and I don’t want you to get sick because you came out here after me.”

“I can call Misha,” Ingrid protests and Sylvain shakes his head.

“Just call him back to the stables. We’ll take Natyu down.” He turns and waves to his wyvern. The beast swoops down towards them, leaving Ingrid no further room to argue.

She gets on behind him and wraps her arms around his waist tightly. She presses her forehead against his back as they take off, circling back through the sky toward the stables. They don’t say anything as they fly, and Ingrid gets off of the wyvern before Sylvain does, brushing imaginary dirt off her skirt and jacket so she doesn’t have to watch him get his wyvern put away. She whistles for Misha and her mount returns to her.

Sylvain approaches her once Misha’s back in his stall and he has closed Natyu’s hutch. He looks calmer now than he did when she found him. His bitterness seems to have receded appropriately. He looks like he’s about to say something, but he’s cut off by a familiar voice.

“Ingrid! Sylvain!”

They turn sharply and see Dimitri jogging towards them from the Knight’s Hall. Professor Byleth follows him a few paces back, her blue eyes curiously assessing the situation. Ingrid steps away from Sylvain reflexively, leaving a respectable distance between them.

“When you said stables, I didn’t realize you would be flying off,” Dimitri continues, addressing Ingrid as he reaches them.

She smiles sheepishly. “Followed a hunch.”

Dimitri turns to Sylvain and pulls him into a tight hug. Sylvain flails momentarily, not used to the affection from the prince. Dimitri releases him but keeps a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder.

“Are you alright? We were worried about you.”

Sylvain glances at Ingrid. She catches a lingering sadness in his gaze, but his lips quirk up at the edges. “Yeah, I’m good,” he assures the prince. “Ingrid got me sorted.”

She didn’t. She absolutely didn’t, but her tongue is glued to the bottom of her mouth by the way that Sylvain is looking at her so she can’t argue. He does seem better, though, so that’s a step in the right direction.

She’ll just have to keep a closer eye on him.

[missmarquin]

Pain/Healing

The rain can only mask so much. @sylvix-week Slyvox week day 4, Oneshot.

Read on Ao3 for better quality! 

---

It rains when Glenn dies.

And it rains again at his funeral.

Felix stares wordlessly at his grave.

Glenn is-- was an asshole. He was rude, ill-tempered and constantly picked fights. He’s still not sure what Ingrid sees-- Felix takes a deep breath-- saw in him, but then again, Glenn was his brother, not betrothed.

It’s not as if Ingrid has ever had good taste anyway.

Sylvain is next to him. Sylvain’s sixteen, taller and bigger, and he thinks wiser. He probably is, despite what people think. Felix knows him, he knows him so well. They’ve been attached at the hip since he could walk. Sylvain is this unwavering pillar that Felix can just hold onto.

But he doesn’t anymore, because he’s thirteen and he’s officially old enough to be beyond the need of physical comfort.

Everyone is gone. There’s a coffin in the ground, fancy and expensive, delicately carved and ornately decorated. Worth of a knight , his father had said to him.

But to Felix, it’s only a box, and it’s empty. There wasn’t enough left of his brother’s body to even bury.

Felix stares at the turned soil of the ground, at the flowers littered the area, at the marble headstone with empty words--

Warm fingers wrap around his cold hand, and Felix finds that he can’t pull away.

“I hate him,” he hisses instead.

“Yeah,” Sylvain replies.

“I fucking hate him.” It’s the first time he’s ever used the word, even if he’s heard Sylvain sputter it plenty of times.

“ Yeah .”

Sylvain squeezes his hand, and Felix finds that he doesn’t want to pull away. In fact, he squeezes back.

What a strange feeling, this thing that slowly drowns out the hate.

It rains when Sylvain kills Miklan the beast.

They’re covered in mud and guts and blood, and now there’s rain to wash it all away.

Sylvain heaves heavy breathes, lance heavy in his hand, red splattered across his dented armor. Felix stands to the side, his sword still held at the ready, just in case because you never fucking know .

Sylvain stands there for too long, staring at his dead brother. It’s familiar to Felix, the pain. He hates that Sylvain has to feel it. He is relieved that he’ll no longer be the only one.

It’s a sour thought the burrows deep in his heart, and he does the best that he can to forget it.

Later that night, Sylvain refuses to leave his room. He won’t let Felix in, but instead of feeling hurt, he’s angry. It’s also the perfect opportunity to practice that new certification that he’s been working on. He kneels before the door, lockpick carefully in hand at he works at the lock. After a long and frustrating moment, the tumblers fall with a click .

He practically kicks open the door, the word pathetic about to tumble off of this lips but--

Sylvain is crying.

Felix falters at that. At the tears that stream down Sylvain’s face, leaving wet tracks that glitter in the firelight. His eyes are red rimmed and his breathing is panicked and--

Felix shuts the door behind him and is immediately at his side. “Hey,” he says quiet, and he wants to reach out but--

He’s not thirteen anymore, and it’s not that he doesn’t want to touch, it’s that he does . There is nothing more that he wants to do, than soothe Sylvain. That threat of physical affection isn’t gross any longer, it’s morphed into something more.

Sylvain chuckles, but it’s dark and full of anger. “I hated him, Felix,” he says.

“Yeah.” The word is familiar, and maybe that’s a comfort but Sylvain looks so conflicted.

“I hated him so much, Fe. He tried to kill me. So why do I--” His words cut off, strangled in his throat. “ Why do I care?”

Felix’s heart cracks . “I know, Sylvain,” he says, reaching out and rubbing his back. Sylvain rests his head in his heads, fingers curling into his hair, pulling at it. “I know,” he repeats. His hand goes round and round in soothing circles. “I know, I know, I know,” he says, his voice calm.

Sylvain reaches out to grasp his other hand, squeezing it, holding onto him like a lifeline.

Felix doesn’t let go.

It rains when they bury Felix’s father.

Felix is tired of the rain. He’s tired of the bone-weary feeling of water pelting him, and he’s tired wishing that it will just wash away the hurt .

It doesn’t. He doesn’t think that it ever will. He doesn’t know why he keeps wishing for it.

Unlike Glenn, his father is in that box. He shouldn’t be, but his father is-- Felix pauses and shudders-- was the stupidest man alive, and that’s including Sylvain. Unlike Glenn, Felix barely feels a thing. There’s no anger. No hate. There’s nothing.

He’s empty.

Sylvain is quiet when he moves to his side. He forgoes words, instead grasping for Felix’s arm and yanking him close. And he holds him there. He presses his hand against the back of his head, guiding it to the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay,” Sylvain promises. His fingers card through the long and oily strands, because Felix can’t be bothered to even bathe properly. “Fe, it’s okay, I’m here.”

Well, at least someone is. And yeah, he’s the preferable one of course, this red-headed idiot. Felix sinks into the touch, fingers curling into the rough material of Sylvain’s linen shirt. Sylvain hums lightly. It’s not a real tune, but Felix likes it, he focuses on it, he tries to remember it.

Because at the age of twenty-two, he’s given up on ignoring it and opts for cherishing it instead. It’s weird to think it’s love, but it is, not that he’ll ever tell Sylvain that. Sylvain, who wears a new girl everyday like a pair of drawers.

Sylvain who could be anywhere at that moment, but he’s there , with him . Felix buries his face into his neck, breathing in the smell of sandalwood and leather conditioner.

“I don’t feel anything,” he murmurs against Sylvain’s skin.

Sylvain scratches at his scalp lightly, before pulling back to look at his face. “That’s not true Felix.”

He’s about to deny it, but then he realizes that Sylvain is right. It’s not nothing he feels, it’s pity . He pities his father most of all, and it makes his skin squirm.

“I don’t want to feel anything,” he says, and Sylvain’s expression is unreadable.

“Yeah,” he responds, leaning forward, pressing a kiss against his forehead. That’s new. “Yeah, I know.” His lips linger there, the words traced into his skin.

Felix wants them to stay there.

It rains when Edelgard loses her head.

It rains all day, through the night and into the next day. And the next. And the next.

By now, Felix hates it. He cannot stand the feel of it, the sound of it, the idea of it.

The war is over, the Empire has lost and Faerghus’ King has returned. Things should be loud and riotous. But they aren’t. They’ve returned to the safety of the monastery for the time being and it’s preternaturally quiet.

He’s always liked the quiet, but Felix feels as though he’s had his fill for the rest of his life.

“Gold for your thoughts?”

Felix relaxes the moment he hears Sylvain’s voice. He’s in the training hall, but under the overhang because who wants to slip in the mud, while holding a weapon . It sounded stupid when Sylvain said it as a child, but Felix has seen men slip in the mud and fall on their own swords during battle.

It doesn’t sound so stupid anymore.

So he sits on the step and watches the rain instead. He doesn’t know why, he still hates it. Sylvain drops beside him, his long legs stretched out. It’s weird to see him without armor on. He’s worn it everyday for a year and it’s hard to remember that he owns regular clothes as well.

“It’s too quiet,” Felix tells him. Sylvain hums at that. “It’s like I expect the warning bell to go off at any moment, or the empire to crest the hill or--”

“ Yeah ,” Sylvain interrupts. “I get it.”

“The Bo--” Felix pauses. “ Dimitri ,” he amends, because he’s been trying to get better at it-- “Will be leaving in a few days for Fhirdiad.”

“Will you go with him?” Sylvain asks quietly, and while it isn’t accusatory, it’s stilted enough the Felix narrows his eyes.

“I have things to attend with back home.”

Sylvain’s mouth parts in a silent ah . “I do as well.”

Right, the thing that Felix dreads, because the last time Slyvain went home , they didn’t see each other for five years . And when you’re desperately in love with someone, that’s five years too long.

Felix stands abruptly, not wanting to think about it, not wanting to talk about it--

“Felix--” Sylvain starts, following suit.

But Felix is already walking. He’s already into the rain, crossing the grounds, wanting to get away--

Sylvain’s hand clasps around his arm, and he stops dead. The rain pours. It’s loud in his ear drums and his skin stings under the drops. “Felix,” he begins again, his voice so quiet that Felix can barely hear it over the downpour.

“Sylvain, whatever it is--”

“Come back with me. To Gautier.”

Felix glares at him incredulously. “ What ?” he hisses.

“What is there for you, back home?” Sylvain says it so simply, that Felix can’t think of anything else in that moment. It makes sense, it makes so much sense .

But instead he responds with, “My people .” His voice snaps out like a whip, more vicious than he wants, but when you’re trying to nip something in the bud, it’s easier to be ruthless.

Because if his heart is going to break, he might as well do it to himself.

“I’m not there,” Sylvain answers, and Felix falters. “I don’t know what I would do, if you aren’t by my side, Fe.”

“Don’t say such ridiculous things, Sylvain.” The words sound harsher than they did in his head, but Sylvain marches onward.

“Marry me.”

Everything comes full-stop, as they stand there. It’s like he can’t hear the rain anymore, all he can focus on is the stupid red-head before him, and that ridiculous smile spread across his face. Sylvain makes it look so easy, wearing his feelings so openly.

Twenty-five years old, and Felix still hasn’t quite learned that it’s okay to love someone.

Which is probably why he responds with, “Why on earth would I do that?”

Sylvain isn’t mad. He sighs wistfully though, his grip on his arm tightening. “Because I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

Felix cries. Felix feels the tears slip from his face before Sylvain has even finished his sentence, because Goddess above, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go . He never cried for Glenn. Or his father, or their lost friends or the roar.

But he cries for Sylvain and his love.

“Hey, hey,” the other man shushes, reaching up and pressing fingers to his cheek. “Don’t--”

“It’s nothing , you oaf.” Sylvain wisely, doesn’t mention the crying again.

“We’ve been through a lot together,” he says instead. “I just want to go through the rest of life with you.”

“Your father--”

“ Fuck my father.” Sylvain shifts, and suddenly he’s holding Felix’s cheeks between both of his hands. They’re large and warm, and Felix wants him to never let go. He thumbs at the skin under his eyes.

“I’m so broken,” Felix says.

“Broken things can be repaired.” He ducks down, but hesitates. His lips are close, yet so far. But Felix wants this. He wants . “Felix, you’ve lived your entire life for everyone else. It’s time to live for yourself .”

Felix kisses him. He leans forward, pulling at his close, bringing Sylvain closer. His lips are chapped, but Goddess he smells good, tastes good, this is literally everything he’s ever dreamt it would be. Sylvain angles his head differently, his tongue brushing against his lips. Felix gasps, and Sylvain licks into him Felix presses closer, pulling closer, trying to lose himself.

He does. He does for a long time, and he doesn’t care that they’re soaking wet, or that anyone could come in, or that Sylvain is laughing against his lips.

When they part, Sylvain presses another kiss to his forehead. “Is that a yes?”

Yes . “ Moron ,” is what he actually replies.

Felix loves the rain in that moment. He loves Sylvain, and the way that he looks at him. The way that his hair is darkened and wet, hanging limply around his face. He loves the dimples around that infuriating smile.

He loves that the pain in his heart as been filled instead with something else.

Live for yourself , suddenly seems a lot more like love yourself.

The rain hides his tears of healing .

[iturbide]

I think I remember seeing somewhere that Edwlgard was the smartest of the three lords for a) wanting to tear down the Crest system and b) taking out TWSITD, and to that I say: the ends do not justify the mand because holy F uck man this route is hHHHHH-

HA

HAHAHA

HA HA

yeah no sorry I do not buy that Edelgard is the smartest of the Lords.  Not by a long shot.  She does the stupidest thing possible in the stupidest way possible -- throwing her own personal forces into the conquest of Fodlan, substantially weakening her armies in the process of these hard fights and effectively leaving the now subjugated nation as easy pickings for the Twisted.  If she expects that she’s going to have forces from the Kingdom and Alliance to bolster her weakened forces, let’s not forget that she subjugated those nations: they’re not going to fight out of loyalty to her, and I wouldn’t be surprised if forced drafts lead to mass desertions.  I honestly think it’s outrageous to think she managed to take out the Twisted at all, considering how little forethought she seemed to put into the long game (and the fact that it’s just a footnote in end cards instead of actually showing how she did it is highly suspect to me personally).

[[MORE]]

Also, who in their right mind thinks that Edelgard is the ONLY one that wants to tear down the Crest system?  It might not be Dimitri’s top stated priority, but he very clearly wants system reform, and the system is based on Crests.  Changing the system requires dismantling the Crest bias -- and not only that, he himself and more than a few of his childhood friends have been negatively impacted by that bias (Sylvain and Ingrid in particular, but it’s not hard to see how Mercedes has been harmed by it), so he knows intimately how harmful it is.  The only reason Claude doesn’t have Crests on his top priority list is because the Alliance doesn’t operate the same way the Empire and the Kingdom do, and their reliance on Crests is different -- on top of that, the Eastern Church is considered the weakest branch with the least authority in its embedded region.  The system might be uncomfortable in the Alliance, but it doesn’t have the same stranglehold on governmental operations.

Also, who takes down the Twisted?  Black Eagles end cards make only the briefest mentions of it, but we never see her do the thing: the game literally ends after she murders Rhea.  Meanwhile, Claude not only infiltrates the Twisted home base and forces them to destroy it, he also helps murder Nemesis, who even Seiros couldn’t kill.  And this is a man who was completely in the dark about them, unlike Edelgard, who’s been intimately aware of them and their operations for most of her life: Claude takes the new information that Hubert’s note provides, generates a cautious plan, and then completely uproots them.  That’s incredibly badass and I feel goes to show just how effective he is as a tactician (and while Silver Snow goes the same route, don’t forget that Seteth is there, and he had first-hand experience with them -- Claude is flying blind, so his success is notable. 

Also, just taking a step back to get a broad view of Edelgard’s plan and the long-term consequences shows how unfeasible it really is.  Besides how ill-advised it was to take her own forces to war with only Twisted ‘support’ against the Church, the Alliance, and the Kingdom, her entire plan seemed to rely on bolstering her numbers through conquest, since she doesn’t hesitate to send her own people through the meat grinder known as war and would likely be hurting for soldiers and support when the whole campaign is done.  Beyond unrest in her own nation after five years of war they never asked for and that has likely left the Empire in a rough spot, conquered peoples generally aren’t all that willing to line up and fight for the people who subjugated them: she will likely be dealing with rebellions and unrest for years if not decades to come from that move alone, both within the Empire’s original borders and without in the territories she claimed by the sword.  Not only that, she kills the King of Faerghus, effectively making him a martyr for the Kingdom loyalists; add onto that the cryptic and completely unexplained line from one of his talks with Rhea before the Tailtean battle -- something about how ‘the Blaiddyd bloodline lives on’ -- and either he has a child on the way himself or possibly young relative with a Crest who’s been sent off into hiding.  So that’s probably gonna come back to bite her if that kid starts rallying Kingdom forces. 

And then there’s Almyra.  Whether you kill Claude or not (and let’s be real, Edelgard probably would prefer to kill him and it’s only Byleth that can potentially stay her hand), Almyra’s probably going to become a major threat in the not so distant future.  Spare him and he goes home, but his father is still king and could easily mount an invasion whenever he so desired; kill him and now the Almyrans have a blood vendetta because she murdered their prince.  Add to that the fact that Hilda very likely died in the battle, meaning the Gonerils have lost family to the Empire’s invasion and aren’t terribly likely to play nice, and they might even be willing to ally with the Almyrans and let them in through the Locket, perhaps even rallying scattered Alliance resistances and rebellions to swell the Almyran forces as they go.  On top of that, there’s even the fact that the Twisted city is literally in Goneril territory: even if Almyra took their sweet time preparing for an invasion force, what’s to stop the Twisted from reaching out to Holst -- the man who has been leading Fodlan’s whole defense against Almyra -- and trying to draw him to their side with the promise of revenge against Edelgard?  They make frequent use of pawns, so there’s nothing stopping them from finding a new one even before Edelgard turns on them (since she very unwisely telegraphed her intent at Arianrhod when she took out Cornelia: the fortress’ destruction was meant as a warning, but the Twisted group isn’t the type to sit idle either). 

Beyond all that, let’s not forget exactly how Edelgard intended to do away with the Crest system: tear it down completely.  But she had no plan in place for what to replace it with, which is painfully obvious from her A support with Ferdinand where she hadn’t considered the option of public schooling as a place to foster growth.  Her plan is literally ‘I want to make a world where merit is rewarded,’ but she has no plan for how to do that, and what counts as merit is a vague and intangible thing...until it’s taken in the context of her wider words and actions.  She praises Miklan as a man who could have been a great asset to the world had the Crest system not undermined him -- and remember, this is a man who tried to kill his younger brother and eventually rebelled against his family by taking charge of a bandit group that murdered and pillaged its way through the Kingdom.  Is the Crest system fair?  No, not in the least -- but the system didn’t make Miklan commit assault and murder: he made that choice for himself.  Edelgard seems to value combat prowess and potential military application far more than anything else -- even in her supports with Linhardt she berates him as wasting his talent by doing things for his own personal enjoyment, rather than to further magic theory -- so her ‘meritocracy’ is likely going to favor scientists working on combat magic and technology...and soldiers: obedient and unquestioningly loyal.  Which, in all likelihood, she’ll need given the environment she cultivates for herself in CF.

So no, I don’t think that Edelgard is the smartest lord.  I think she’s the most stubborn and bullheaded of them, instead.

[fireemblems24]

You know, the game says that Miklan is crestless while Sylvain has one Crest. And that Miklan has been disowned, but Sylvain's bio says that Miklan has been disowned when Sylvain was 17. And Sylvain tells us clearly that his brother tried to kill him and it's clearly the reason of why he has been disowned. It's easy to blame the crest system for have ruined Miklan's life, but if he has tried to kill his little brother (few times) he was NOT a good person. there are limits to jealousy ^^"

That’s what I always thought? When I heard about how he treated Sylvain, my head instantly went to those horrible stories you hear about guys who murder their girlfriends because she broke up with him or she refused his advances - entitled little shits. 

Miklan got passed over because Sylvain got the Crest, the same way a woman child would get passed over if a male one showed up back when the world was a suckier place. Like, it’s not fair, but it doesn’t justify murder.  

I thought he only went bandit out of raging jealously and of his own volition, because otherwise, what happened? The Gautiers said “bad,” and tossed him out the front door so he could go kill other people or??? He obviously got to live there long enough to seriously torment (including freaking attempted murder) Sylvain multiple times.