#sophia gabriella fraldarius gautier

[thepandapopo]

A Step Through Time Ch 5: Promises

Synopsis:

The one where Felix is done with his younger self being a stubborn asshole and Sophie is determined to treat her fathers equally.

OR

In which Felix confronts his younger self and have a much needed chat while Sophie, who really should never be left alone, makes a not-so-great choice. Pairing: Sylvix

Chapter Index

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

If you had asked Ingrid a month ago if Felix would ever willingly allow someone, anyone, to touch him in even the most casual of ways, she would have laughed first, then immediately sent for Manuela because no one in their right mind would ever think such a thing.

So understandably, to say Ingrid is extremely shocked as she watches the older versions of Felix and Sylvain interact with each other is the understatement of the century.

“They’re disgustingly adorable in their own way,” Dorothea snickers from her seat on the dining hall bench beside her. “I don’t know whether I want to coo or puke.”

Ingrid wholeheartedly agrees.

Clearly fatherhood and marriage, or maybe it was being married to Sylvain of all people, has changed Felix – has made him more… domestic. The Felix and Sylvain of her timeline are already joined at the hip, regardless of how much they deny it, but married Felix and Sylvain are in a league of their own.

Everywhere Felix goes, Sylvain is always there beside him with the shorter man’s battle scarred hand tucked neatly into the crook of his right elbow, his left hand gently securing Felix’s own while also proudly showing off the glittery silver ring adoring his ring finger (his engagement ring, Ingrid reminds herself, as Sylvain had made very clear when he decided that the dining hall was a perfect place to scandalize the entire army with a borderline inappropriate kiss). And if little Sophie is with them, it is like an invisible thread ties them together, ensuring that he is standing no further than a hairs breadth apart from his husband with his daughter in his arms, or placing a hand on Felix’s lower back while he carries their little spitfire.

“I know that couples inevitably begin to adopt some of their partner’s characteristics and habits, but this is almost too much.” Ingrid frowns, finally bringing her forkful of food to her mouth after being frozen in place as she blatantly stares at the happy family. “It’s like Felix isn’t even Felix anymore.”

Across from her, Annette hums her assent. “It’s a bit unsettling, but it’s still really nice to see how happy they are. If you ask me, the really creepy thing is Sylvain’s stare. Have you seen it, yet? It’s like an exact copy of Felix.” Bits of buttery crust go flying from her fork as she waves it around to emphasize her point leaving Mercedes to pull out a handkerchief and mop up the stray crumbs that have found their way onto their once pristine table.

It’s true. Although Ingrid has not been on the receiving end of Felix’s (or Sylvain’s now, for that matter) deadpan glare for a long time, she has seen it directed at others – especially when it comes to anything regarding Sophie who is, clearly, extremely doted upon by her two fathers, even while they try to cajole her into finishing the rest of her vegetables.

“Sweetheart, you know you have to finish your meal first before you get your dessert.” Sylvain’s tone is low and chiding, but the softness of his expression very nearly undermines the authority of his words.

“I don’t wanna,” comes the sad whimper complete with puppy eyes and a wobbling lower lip. “It tastes yucky.”

“Aww, cut her some slack, guys!” Whatever else Balthus is about to say from across the table next to theirs is immediately swallowed back down when not only Felix, but Sylvain as well, levels him with a look so equally unamused that even Ingrid can feel the shiver run down her spine.

“Sophia Gabriella Fraldarius-Gautier. You know you cannot leave your seat until you’ve finished your plate.” Felix says, more stern than his husband sitting on the other side of Sophie, but still bordering the line of fond exasperation. With a grimace himself, Felix spears a few of the sprouts on his own fork and shovels them into his mouth.

“Papa is also eating them too, see? You can be a good girl and finish your food too, right, Princess?” Sylvain smiles affectionately but his voice is strained. It’s been the better part of an hour now that he has tried bargaining with his daughter and even the most patient of fathers has a limit. His eyes meets Felix’s briefly as an unspoken message flits between them before Felix nods stiffly and chimes in again.

“If you promise to be good and finish your vegetables for the rest of this month, we will think about letting you go see the market that is passing through town.”

Clearly, it is an effective bait and Sophie’s eyes light up like it’s Yule and her birthday all rolled into one.

“Really?!”

This is news to Ingrid. The last time Annette and Mercedes had mentioned it in passing to future Felix and Sylvain, testing the waters to see if they would be amenable to allowing them to take Sophie, it had resulted in a resounding ‘no’ and one teary child.

“This is war, Annie.” Felix had said in a no nonsense tone after a sniffling Sophia had been carted off to check out the pastries fresh from the kitchen. “She has only known a time of peace. Sophie doesn’t understand how dangerous it can be going out somewhere even as simple as a market in times of unrest.”

“But it’s not like we’d let her go by herself!” Annette argued. “We would be with her the whole time!”

“It’s not your babysitting skills that we’re worried about, Annie.” Sylvain said. His lips quirked upwards in a small smile that did little to lessen the gravity of his expression. “Sophie has a tendency to be ah, a bit of a curious child.”

Felix snorted. “Like someone I know,” he muttered under his breath.

“And so,” Sylvain continued, completely ignoring the barb from his husband even though he knows that later on in the privacy of their own room, he’ll get into how the curiosity may have come from him, but the utter fearlessness and stubborn will to do her own thing one hundred percent came from Felix. “Sophie has a bad habit of wandering off. Goddess knows she’s done it loads of times whenever Felix or I take her down to our local market. The only difference is that everyone there knows who she is and at the end of the day, nothing bad ever happens to her and she comes home with a treat or two and a pat on the head.”

“Well then, we can just hold her hand!” Mercedes says like it is the simplest solution in the world.

“We’ve tried that. We’ve tried literally everything under the sun short of actually tying her to us physically with a rope.”

“But what about-“

“No means no, Annette. We will not argue with you about this. It’s not safe.”

“But Feeelix-!”

And that was the end of that conversation. At least, until now.

But then again, Felix willingly reopening a topic he had previously considered closed is probably one of the lesser odd things that have been happening recently.

“Nuh uh, little missy. All your vegetables means all of them.” Sylvain scrapes the larger bits and pieces of vegetables dotting Sophie’s plate to the center, much to her dismay. The scraps amount to a decent pile of greens and not for the first time, Ingrid realizes just how wily and intelligent Sophie really is.

Raising a daughter with the will of Felix and the looks and intelligence of Sylvain will surely be a trial in itself, but that’s not a problem for Ingrid to worry about. Right now, she just has to worry about making herself scarce when Sylvain and Felix approach Mercie and Annie before she gets dragged into it as well.

----

“Why can’t Daddy come with us?” Sophie asks. Her eyes are wide and sad and Felix will never get used to how it makes his heart wrench. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Sylvain crouches so that he’s eye level with his teary daughter. “Daddy has to go to an important meeting with Uncle Dima, Uncle Claude, and Auntie By. But I’ll come find you and Papa if we finish early.” Sylvain smooths back the unruly crimson curls that are already starting to come out of the half updo that Felix had put in this morning. After years of doing his daughter’s hair, Felix has resigned himself to always fixing it halfway through the day lest it becomes a true bird’s nest at night after the wild adventures to be had.

“Promise?” Her lower lip is wobbling and Felix is starting to think that perhaps Sophie is a lot more aware of her influence on others than they think she is.

“I promise, sweetheart.” Sylvain smiles at his daughter before turning his eyes to Felix, a mischievous glint shining through. “Your Papa can vouch that I never break a promise.”

The wink Sylvain throws at him is met with an eyeroll and scoff, but Felix cannot stop the small quirk of his lips. Sylvain has always come through with his promises, both to him and to their daughter. It’s one of the things that Felix loves so dearly about Sylvain after all – there is nothing in the world that he values more than the trust of his family and friends.

“Sophie, go check to make sure you’ve packed your coin purse and a snack. I need to speak with your father for a bit. I’ll meet you at the gates with Auntie Annie and Mercie, okay?”

Sophie doesn’t need to be told twice. She is already vibrating off the walls, eager to get going and visit the market that she has been dying to see. “Yes, Papa. Daddy, I hope you come soon! I’ll buy you a present, so make sure you hurry, okay?”

Felix and Sylvain both watch as their daughter scurries away, red hair flying behind her as she weaves through the mid morning crowd to join Annette and Mercedes standing at the foot of the stairs leading to the Entrance Hall. When she arrives with a hop and skip, Felix finally feels the knot that has been building in chest since that morning abate slightly.

“Hey.”

Felix jolts at the warm hand that cups his elbow. “It’s okay, Fe. She’ll be safe with you. We’re not going to lose her.”

“I know.” Felix huffs, taking a step forward so he can rest his forehead in the dip of Sylvain’s collar. “It’s just... I can’t help but worry.”

Sylvain chuckles, “I get it, Fe. She’s certainly got enough mischief in her to always keep us on our toes. I don’t think she’ll ever grow out of it, to be honest. Goddess knows I dread the day when I’m going to have to beat back suitors and stop her from sneaking out to gallivant with stable boys.”

“There will be no gallivanting with anyone. Period. I would prefer not to stab someone less than half my age.”

“Oh, but baby you look so hot when you’re all riled up and murderous.” The shiver that runs down Felix’s spine is undeniable and after a lifetime together, Sylvain would know the effect he has on his husband even if it weren’t for the hand sliding to wrap around his waist and the other reaching up to cup a smooth, pale cheek.

“Fuck you.” There’s no venom behind his words. Only the breathy whisper of comfort borne from unshakeable trust and love.

“Gladly, but alas I have a meeting to get to.” The red head lets out a full belly laugh and ignores the half-hearted smack from Felix (which still smarts, because Felix at half strength is still stupidly strong with his damn training regimen).  “Are you going to talk to your younger self today?”

The atmosphere takes on a decidedly more sombre note, but it’s a necessary topic.

Felix nods. “Yeah. Annie convinced him to come with us to the market to check out the blacksmith.”

“I’m sorry I can’t come. It would be easier if I were the one to talk to him, but…”

“It’s fine,” Felix shakes his head. “The next battle at Fort Merceus is important and you were a big part of the strategizing. You need to be there to make sure they make the right decisions.”

“Even still. Talking to your younger self about feelings is going to be like pulling teeth. I should know. I’m your very own Felix-whisperer after all.” Sylvain closes his eyes and lets his forehead drop to rest against Felix’s; his soft breath tickling the midnight bangs framing his husband’s visage. “Our younger selves need all the help they can get. Sothis… I don’t remember us being such a disaster.”

“Neither do I, and yet here we are stuck trying to convince our younger counterparts that the other is very much interested.”

“For the record,” Sylvain smirks. The hand that was previously wrapped around Felix’s waist is now slowly drifting lower. “I’d like to say that I’m still very much interested.”

“Pinch my ass in public and you’ll lose your hand.”

“Aw, Fe. You’re no fun!”

It’s the twitch of Felix’s cheek that betrays his amusement. “Tch. Insatiable.”

----

Awkward.

That’s the only way that Felix can even begin to describe the odd, tense energy that weighs down their group as they walk leisurely down the long winding roads descending from Garreg Mach.

To be fair, most of the awkwardness is in part due to Felix’s refusal to speak to his younger self, instead choosing to contentedly watch Sophie hop and skip around the flowers dotting their path. Ever since Sylvain’s decision to completely disregard time travel etiquette, the younger Felix had made himself scarce, pointedly avoiding him and his husband as if afraid that he would catch feelings simply by being around them.

Ha. That fucker was already head over heels in love no matter how much he denied it.

“Sophie, when we get to the market, will you go with Annie and Mercie while I visit the blacksmith please?” Felix says it quiet enough that it sounds like it is a private conversation, but in the silence of the forest around them, it easily carries.

Sophie blinks, confused, but acquiesces. “Okay.”

Felix smiles and pats her head. He can practically feel the suspicion and irritation rolling off his younger self in waves, but he can’t really bring himself to care.

He needs to address this issue now because Felix knows better than anyone else just how obstinate he can be, and if he’s right, there’s a very good chance that this younger version of himself will take his feeling for Sylvain with him to the grave out of pure stubbornness.

So when they finally arrive to the market, Felix doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he wants to talk to his counterpart – alone. He kneels and gives Sophie a quick hug after he makes her promise again to not wander off by herself before standing off to the side in the direction of the blacksmith, his arms crossed and waiting patiently while he watches young Felix scowl at the sheer number of people around.

A brusque nod from young Felix and suddenly they are face to face, and there is no denying the discomfort starting to roil in his gut.

Maybe he should have waited for Sylvain to talk to him after all.

“Well? Spit it out.” Despite asking Felix to talk, his younger self pushes past him roughly and begins stalking towards their destination.

“Stop being so stubborn.” Young Felix whirls around at him with a look of incredulity.

“Being ‘stubborn’?” He glowers. “I’m not being stubborn. I’m not being anything except for a pawn of fate apparently because my whole damn future has already been decided for me!”

Ah. So that is the core of the problem. “Your future hasn’t been decided. That’s the whole point of me being here – so that we can make sure that things do happen as they originally went.”

“Oh, so I’m just supposed to accept the fact that my life becomes sickeningly domestic –“ he all but spits the word out like poison, “- and I’m trapped in a life that I never wanted?”

Felix narrows his eyes. “So you’re saying you don’t want this life? You don’t want peace for Fodlan? You don’t want to actually feel happy for the first time your goddamn life since Glenn died?”

“Who the fuck are you to say whether I’m happy or not? I’m happy when I have a blade in my hand, not when I’m being carted around like a… like a stupid trophy wife!”

“First of all,” Felix is proud of how level his voice comes out despite his urge to throttle the man in front of him, “I’m you, so of course I know what you want. I lived that life already.”

He pauses for a bit and then decides to go for a different angle – one that he knows has always worked with him when Sylvain tries to talk him down from stabbing some of the more pompous nobles during trade talks.

He takes a deep breath to ground himself. “But you’re still you. I can’t say I know exactly what you’re feeling, but I can imagine because at the core of everything, I know what I used to be like back then. And I also know that no matter what timeline I exist in, there will always be one thing that remains constant.”

It’s true. There is one truth that Felix knows will span the test of time and space no matter what version of himself he is dealing with.

“…Are you ever going to tell me what it is?” Young Felix mutters angrily, breaking their brief standstill.

Marriage really has made him soft, Felix thinks as he feels the corners of his mouth curl up in a smile. He can practically hear Sylvain in his head telling him about how he probably has his ‘dopey love face’ on right now and his eyes are all ‘melted amber’. What a sentimental fool.

“I think you know.”

“Ugh,” Young Felix scowls and turns away to glare at the bucket of swords in front of the blacksmith’s stall. It’s an admission if Felix has ever heard one, and he knows that his younger self does know.

Despite what the majority of Fodlan thinks, Felix is quite capable at reading people’s emotions. He knows when people feel uncomfortable or when they might need a kind word, but for the most part, he just doesn’t care enough to coddle them because he knows it will only do them more harm than good. Which is exactly why he decides to jump straight to the truth.

“It’s okay to love him, you know.”

Young Felix freezes. The stiff set of his shoulders hunch up almost protectively and he stubbornly stays facing away from him.

“I know…” Felix swallows the lump in his throat, “I know that it’s hard to even think about letting anyone in after Glenn – how hard it is to trust someone enough and believe that they won’t just leave you like everyone else inevitably does.”

Felix touches the obsidian ring on his left hand. He spins it absently and the smooth slide of the black band against his hand grounds him.

“Mother… Glenn… and then Father…” Felix has long made his peace with his father’s death, but there is still the faintest of stings in his heart when he thinks about it. “They all left us. But Sylvain has always been there. He was there when Mother died. He stayed with us for weeks after Glenn died. And he never pitied or babied us when Father died. He was just there.”

It’s a bit hazy, most memories from the war blur together honestly, but Felix does remember the days after the battle at Gronder with crystal clarity – those few painful days after his father’s sacrifice. No matter how many times he told Sylvain to leave, no matter how he yelled at him or tried to chase him away, Sylvain stood by him, steadfast and most importantly, without judgement.

He simply let Felix be.

And that was exactly what he needed.

“He’s the biggest idiot in Fodlan, but you and I both know that Sylvain does everything in his power to care for his friends and family.” Felix says it like it like he’s stating the obvious. “He’s also irresponsible and completely reckless, and Goddess knows that moron wouldn’t sustain half of his injuries if he just trained more, but he does remember our promise. And he’s doing his best to keep it while also making sure we stay alive.”

Felix steps forward so that he’s now standing side by side with his younger self. From his peripheral vision, he can see the furrowed brow and tightly pursed lips that he knows only happens when he begrudgingly agrees.

“I know you don’t believe in a fated future. Honestly, neither do I. But if there’s one thing I can tell you for certain, it is that loving Sylvain, and being loved in return, is the best thing that will ever happen to you.” Felix allows the warmth in his chest to bloom. While that feeling may have scared him once upon a time, he’s learned to become fond of it because he knows that the only reason he can feel this way is because he has come so far and conquered all his demons along the way.

“You’re disgustingly sentimental.”

“Maybe so, but I can still kick your ass.”

Young Felix snorts, “maybe then I’d actually have a good spar for once that isn’t against the professor.”

Felix laughs quietly, the heavy weight on his chest lifting just as the tension eases out of Young Felix’s stance. The truth is out there, and at least his younger self isn’t denying things anymore, but ultimately it will be up to Young Felix to decide the path he wants to take.

Felix Fraldarius is many things, but most importantly he is not a coward, which is why despite not having verbally settled the matter with his younger self, he knows with absolute certainty that Young Felix will never turn away from Sylvain, especially not when he’s been given permission to chase that happiness that he’s longed for.

----

Sophie decides very quickly that the market is her new favourite place. Forget the kitchens and all their yummy baked treats, the marketplace has all that and more.

Everywhere she looks, there is something new to see. Stalls upon stalls are lined with various treasures and fancy looking things that no amount of tears would help escape the wrath of her fathers if, by some stroke of bad luck, she is unfortunate enough to break them.

“Auntie Mercie! Look, Balloons!”

Sophie tugs on the healer’s hands eagerly, careful not to let go and wander off though there is a tiny whisper in her heart that tempts her so. The large inflated animals sway merrily in the breeze, and with the hustle and bustle of the environment around them, it almost looks as if they are dancing with excitement.

“Oh, aren’t they adorable? Would you like one, Sophie?” Mercedes claps her hands together, looking just as delighted as Sophie feels and soon, the trio of females is making their way through the surprisingly large crowd that has gathered for this lively gathering as a reprieve from the war.

“The fox,” Sophie pulls on Mercedes’ hand even more urgently the closer they get. “I want the fox, please, Auntie Mercie!”

“What about the cat, Sophie? That’s one is pretty cute.” Annette giggles. The red headed mage ducks and peers left and right at the variety of floating animals attached to the belt of the balloon vendor. There is already a gaggle of children forming around the man as he hands ribbons off to parents in exchange for gold, and although Sophie feels like she might burst if she has to wait any longer, she knows to wait her turn for the man to address her.

“Hello there, young miss. And what can I get for you today?” When the man finally turns his kind face towards her, Sophie cannot tear her eyes away from her goal. “Perhaps a bird? Or maybe a puppy?”

Sophie’s voice comes out breathy and excited. Reaching a hand up, she points eagerly, “the fox please. Can I have the fox?”

“Of course! Why don’t you reach out your hand for me and I’ll tie it to your wrist?”

Obediently, Sophie sticks out her left arm and watches, enraptured as the white ribbon loops delicately around her wrist, loose enough that she can slip her hand out if she really wanted to, but tight enough that the balloon will not fly away. Reaching into the small coin purse attached to her hip, Sophie carefully counts out the appropriate amount and hands them over.

“Thank you!” Sophie calls out after the vendor as Annette and Mercedes begin leading her away from the throng. It’s much too crowded now, but the little Fraldarius-Gautier cannot help but feel comforted by her floating guardian. Papa did always say that her Daddy was ‘sly as a fox’ after all, and it feels like her father is there with her when she sees it.

“Do you think Daddy will like it?” Sophie mumbles shyly when they’ve walked far enough that the screams of delighted children are nothing more than a whisper in the distance.

“I’m sure Sylvain will love it!” Mercedes says sweetly. The healer looks at Sophie with a mixed expression, almost like she is trying to solve a puzzle that she can’t quite figure out, before Annette interrupts her with a gasp.

“Mercie, there’s the sweets vendor that we’ve been looking for!”

Sweets? Sweets are good. That sounds like something Sophie is definitely interested in.

“Come on,” Annette urges. She grabs Mercedes by the hand and by extension, also Sophie, who is clutching onto her other one, and she drags them with haste towards a brightly colored stall laden with pastries and sweet treats of all kinds.

The saccharine smell wafting from the baked goods makes Sophie’s mouth water, but her eyes dart from one flamboyantly decorated cupcake to another, helplessly unable to pick a favourite.

“Hey! I remember you two!” The friendly looking lady behind the counter smiles as they approach. “You ladies came by my stall the last time I was in town, didn’t you?”

Annette flushes and nods. “The sweets were so good, we just had to make a return visit and pick up some more!” Despite her embarrassment, she is already reaching out to grab a fluffy looking cream pastry that looks more like a cloud than anything else.

“I’m so glad you like them, miss. Business has slowed down recently because of the war. Not much extra money to go towards frivolous things like sweets anymore, you know?” Sophie frowns. War? What war?  “Regular patrons like you are always appreciated.”

“Oh, and look at you, you sweet little thing,” Suddenly the attention is turned towards Sophie and any lingering confusion flies out the window. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Sophie!” With her fathers’ voices in the back of her head telling her to mind her manners, Sophie flashes her brightest smile and bobs gracefully into a quick curtsey. “It’s very nice to meet you. Your sweets look so yummy!”

“They’re the best in all of Fodlan, that’s for sure!” The kind looking lady proudly puffs her chest. “Have you ever tried some, little miss? Since it’s your first time, why don’t you go pick one and I’ll let you try it on the house.”

“Really?” Sophie’s eyes round with excitement. Daddy was right – being well mannered really does bring good things!

There are so many choices to choose from that it feels a little bit overwhelming, but eventually a beautiful deep red velvet cupcake topped with a mountain of chocolate frosting and a small candied cherry catches Sophie’s eye.

She likes cherries. She likes cupcakes. That’s two in one, isn’t it? It’s a perfect deal.

“Good choice, little miss. That’s our red velvet cupcake with black forest icing. It’s one of our more popular cakes; especially with the ladies.” The sweets lady holds out the cupcake to her and Sophie quickly lets go of Mercedes’ hand to receive it.

The monstrosity of a cupcake is so large that it takes Sophie both hands to hold it, taking great pains to not drop it nor smear any icing on her dress. She still remembers the scolding Papa had given her over the grass and mud stains in her dress a couple of weeks ago and is not eager to repeat that experience.

Above, her red fox sways gently to and fro, moving every time Sophie maneuvers her hands to nibble away at equal parts frosting and icing. She has long since tuned out from the conversation between the nice sweets lady and Mercedes and Annette, instead choosing to savor and enjoy her treat while it lasts.

Sophie is halfway done her cupcake when a raucous of children shrieking with delight steals her attention back in the direction of the balloon man. There, in the middle of a cluster of children stands a rather short and odd-looking man carting around a small trolley packed with stuffed animals, and at the very bottom, shoved against a dopey looking tiger and a rather ferocious lion is a black cat stuffy, complete with slitted golden eyes stitched painstakingly above some wiry whiskers and a kitten pout.

It’s the most wonderful stuffed kitty Sophie has ever seen. She has a present for Daddy, but what about Papa? Surely Papa would also like a gift – it’s only fair since Daddy gets one, right? Right. Her fathers had always taught her to treat everyone equally, and Sophie feels like that must include her family as well.

Annette and Mercedes are still engrossed in conversation with the Sweets Lady, but now their arms are full of bags laden with goodies they are no doubt brining back to the monastery. An itch like no other claws its way up Sophie’s chest and she really, really wants to ask for permission to go see the toy merchant, but she doesn’t want to interrupt what looks to be a very lively conversation.

One quick glance back makes the anxiousness double as the man begins to move towards an intersection across the courtyard from them. If he goes any further, he will turn the corner and Sophie will lose sight of him.

The gleeful squealing of laughter is getting farther and farther away now. She really should tell Mercedes and Annette where she is going, but she’s running out of time and Sophie will be absolutely heartbroken if her Papa is sad that he did not get a gift from her as well.

It will only be for a quick minute. She isn’t going very far. All she will do is go up to the merchant and buy the cat stuffy and return back to the sweets stall in no time at all.

Right?

.

.

.

In that split second, Sophie makes a decision.

She turns back towards the bustling market square and runs.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

I'm so sorry for the delay with this chapter! I wanted to post it during my xmas holidays but I got so caught up with other things (read: sleeping) that I didn't get any writing done at all. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Thank you again for being so patient with me and reading up until now. Things are about to get rocky so I hope you're all prepared.

The SylVix PDA thing was actually inspired by art from @emilyliuwho on twitter. You can see the post here.

If you would like to be added to a tag list, please PM me!!

Tag list: @pato-social

[thepandapopo]

A Step Through Time Chapter 3: Wishes Do Come True

Synopsis: In which Sylvain comes to a horrible realization and Felix learns something new.

OR

Mercedes and Annette learn that they should really give disclaimers whenever they tell kids about wishing wells.

Pairing: SylVix

Chapter Index 1 / 2 / 3

It only takes a week for Sylvain to decide that his newfound knowledge about Felix’s sexuality is a horrible, horrible curse.

The type of curse that is initially disguised as a blessing because Sylvain is ecstatic that he might actually have a chance, but is really a curse because now he can’t stop noticing how many men seem to linger around Felix.

Did Felix always have this many men around him?

Sylvain never noticed it before, but now he cannot help but note that whenever he’s not sparring with Felix, there never seems to be a shortage of male soldiers clambering to challenge the sword master. In fact, if Sylvain is being honest, they all seem a little too eager to test their blade against the Fraldarius heir. Of course, none of them ever manage to win, but that doesn’t stop them from approaching Felix even on his grumpiest of days.

Sylvain doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit.

And if anyone notices that Sylvain is now sharpening his lance with a tad more force than absolutely necessary in the shadows of the training grounds while glaring holes at anyone who approaches his best friend… well, no one says anything because they’ve all seen him skewer his enemies with negligible effort.

“Lord Fraldarius! Sir!”

A new recruit that Sylvain can’t bother to remember the name of jogs up to Felix with a sword in hand and a traitorous part of his brain notes that he’s well built and boyishly handsome.

“Would you be willing to spar against me again? The pointers you gave me last time really helped to improve my form and I’m hoping that you could do the same again.” The soldier stands with his shoulders back and spine straight in the perfect picture of respect, but Sylvain has done this song and dance enough times that he can spot the underlying flirtatious tilt of his head and innocently deceptive tone.

If this were the first time that he had approached Felix, Sylvain would have given him a pass. Hell, even a second or third time would be okay. But this is the fifth time this week that his recruit has approached Felix, and Sylvain cannot figure out for the life of him why Felix is giving him the time of day when he could so clearly go practice sword forms on his own.

So, in typical Sylvain fashion, he saunters over to interrupt their conversation.

“How about you spar against me instead?” To his smug delight, Felix doesn’t shrug off the arm that he throws casually around his shoulder. “I’d be happy to train with you. Plus, that gives Felix the opportunity to focus on critiquing you and giving you pointers.”

Sylvain picks up a training lance and gives it an expert twirl, muscle memory taking over as his feet slide into a ready stance that he could probably replicate in his sleep. There’s something fierce stirring in his gut and he can feel his body jittering restlessly; Sylvain has never been a fan of training (at least not as much as Felix), but his senses are on overdrive today and his mind is focused solely on winning.

“On my mark.” Felix puts away his own training sword and walks over towards a nearby pillar to watch the match. He crosses his arms across his chest and Sylvain can’t help but let his eyes distractedly trace the bulging lines of his biceps that drift down towards a tapered waist…

Damn it.

Now he’s turned on, frustrated and jealous.

A piercing whistle cuts through the air and Sylvain sends a silent half-hearted apology to the new recruit before lunging forward at full strength.

----

“You should have held back.”

“I did.”

His younger self snorts while cutting into his pheasant, “I’ve been your sparring partner for years. And I’ve fought by your side enough times to know what it looks like when you’re not holding back.”

A small smile creeps onto Felix’s face. He really shouldn’t be eavesdropping on his past self’s conversation with Sylvain, but watching the red headed flirt stumble over himself with this new information has been more than a little amusing.

In his timeline, Felix is the one who is always flustered – although admittedly less so now, so it’s nice seeing the tables turn for once even if it’s not with his Sylvain.

Felix doesn’t give any indication that he is eavesdropping – his gaze is still fixed on his own meal and on little Sophie beside him, who has her tongue adorably stuck out while carefully eating wobbling spoonfuls of Onion Gratin Soup.

“I’m surprised that you’ve been helping train the newer soldiers.” Felix can tell from the offhanded way Sylvain tosses the comment out that he’s fishing for information. There’s a subtle edge in his voice that Felix can only hear from years of learning how to avoid arguments with his husband.

“Why? It makes sense. Byleth said she wants more swordsmen to add to my battalion and if they’re going to be fighting with me, then I need to make sure they’re up to my standard.”

“Fe, no offense but your standard is a bit high.”

“Your standard is just low.”

Felix is eternally grateful for Sophie when she masks his snort of laughter with a request for another bread roll.

“That’s not true! Admit it Fe, you always have extremely high standards for everything.” There’s a nervous energy to Sylvain’s prattle, like he’s stalling time to build up courage. “Not that it’s a bad thing! But it is true that you have that expectation for all aspects of your life.”

“Really,” his younger self says dryly, “like what?”

“Like your taste in partners.”

Honestly, Felix is impressed that Sylvain held out as long as he did before caving and broaching the subject with his younger self, but that doesn’t make it any less awkward or mortifying for Young Felix. He’s only listening in on this conversation and he can practically feel the embarrassment that is flooding his counterpart, but that will be nothing compared to the absolute disaster this conversation is headed towards.

Is it considered masochism if Felix is kind of enjoying this?

“We are not talking about this.”

“Aw, come on, Fe! What did you think of that recruit? He was pretty cute.”

The violent coughing that follows is concerning enough that Sophie turns to look worriedly.

(“Papa, is he okay?”

“I’m sure he is, Sophie.” But not for long.)

“What?”

“The guy I was sparring! He was totally interested in you, by the way. Cute face, decent body, but kind of weak.”

“Goddess, kill me now - wait. You… since when were you interested in men?”

“Uh. Since forever? Fe, haven’t you ever heard Ingrid complain about me? I ‘flirt with anything that has a pulse’ – her words, not mine.”

As much as Felix is enjoying the explosive trash fire that is this conversation, he isn’t a fan of everyone in the dining hall knowing their business and judging by the steadily increasing volume of their conversation, there are at least a few others eavesdropping now as well, curious as to what has gotten the two nobles so riled up.

“What the actual fuck, Sylvain. Why have you never told me you were interested in men?”

“I thought you knew!”

“How was I supposed to know if you never told me?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry!”

His younger self looks like he is on the verge of either combusting or stabbing Sylvain so Felix takes it upon himself to intervene. Sophie, who has since finished her dinner, tilts precariously to the side as her eyelids droop. With one hand, Felix ushers his daughter off the bench and towards the front of the dining hall while his other hand drips the tray laden with their dishes. When Sophie is finally far enough ahead that she will not hear him, Felix takes the opportunity to casually stroll by the two men.

His presence alone is enough to shut them both up and Felix can’t help but let the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

As much as he would love to see the red head squirm some more, he does love the idiot and he cannot help but say something to him and ease his guilt. “To be completely honest, we already had a feeling.”

Once again, Felix finds himself on the receiving end of his infamous glare but he can’t find it within himself to care as long as he can end this conversation quickly. Consider it a mercy to his younger self, or to their privacy in general.

“Oh, and just so you’re aware,” Felix calls over his shoulder as he walks away, his calm voice at odds with the small shit eating smirk on his face, “Sylvain knows about us now too.”

Felix doesn’t stick around long enough to see the consequences of his words, instead quickly catching up to his daughter and scooping her up before depositing their dishes and heading back to his room.

----

Perhaps it is the consequence of eating cheese for dinner that catalyzes the stream of ridiculous night terrors combined with the fact that the Gautier cheese used in the soup was reminiscent of home, but  when Sophie wakes up for the third time that night in tears and crying for her Daddy, Felix swears that he is never letting his daughter eat Onion Gratin soup before bed ever again.

A lone candle sends flames dancing in their assigned room, casting shadows across the walls that flicker hypnotizingly and threaten to drag Felix back down into the dredges of sleep if not for his crying daughter in his arms.

As much as it breaks his heart to see Sophie in tears, there is very little Felix can actually do to make her feel better. He isn’t the one she misses, and he doesn’t have the magical capabilities to perform the time travel spell by himself – not that he would even consider risking the safety of his daughter in an experimental spell to begin with (speaking of which, he’s going to have a chat with Linhardt about how Sophie managed to get herself sent to the past when he gets back).

It certainly doesn’t help the situation that he is due to leave on a two day mission in the morning, which is why he shows up exhausted at Annette and Mercedes’ doors at sunrise dropping off a still slumbering Sophie in their care for the next couple of days.

Sophie may not be either his nor Sylvain’s biological daughter, but she certainly inherited some traits from her fathers; and the one thing that her and Sylvain have in common is that they both like to indulge in sweets whenever they are feeling particularly sad.

And so, with a request to bake cookies with Sophie and a hasty reminder to not let her eat too many sweets lest she get a stomachache, Felix hurries off to join his battalion that is set to depart shortly after breakfast.

Which is exactly how Annette finds herself sitting on a stool watching Mercedes and Sophie cut out cute little shapes from their rolled-out cookie dough.

“Sorry Mercie, I promise I’ll help out next time when there’s less… risk of fire involved.”

Mercifully, the healer simply laughs and waves off the apology; after all, it is no secret that Annette has an uncanny ability to make things explode in the kitchen without meaning to.

“Oh that’s quite alright, Annie. After all, I have a wonderful little helper already – isn’t that right, Sophie?”

Sophie doesn’t reply but continues to meticulously push the Pegasus shaped cookie cutter into the dough.

“Sophie…?”

Peering over the counter, Annette tilts her head so that she can see past the curtain of crimson that reveals teary honey eyes and a bottom lip wobbling dangerously with barely held back sniffles.

“Oh dear, what’s wrong Sophie? Do you want a different shape?” Mercedes coos and gently turns her so that both her and Annette can fully see her expression.

One lone tear manages to drip past long brown lashes before the flood gates open.

“I…I m-miss…” Sophie chokes out before abruptly stopping, her face scrunching up in distress.

Sweeping her dress under her knees, Annette crouches down to Sophie’s eye level and smooths her hair back in a comforting gesture. “Who do you miss, sweetie?”

Once more, a flash of uncertainty and reluctance crosses her expression before Sophie finally breaks down and whispers, “I miss Daddy.”

There must be something else bothering the little Fraldarius, Mercedes and Annette conclude after an hour of fruitlessly trying to comfort Sophie that Felix will be back before you know it, because nothing they say seems to elicit any reaction other than Sophia stubbornly insisting that she misses her Daddy. Any attempts to cajole further elaboration merely ends in Sophia clamming up with more tears, looking guilty as if she has broken an unknown rule.

“Sophie, are you sure you don’t want to tell us more about what’s bothering you?” Mercedes frowns. “Is there something more than you missing Felix?”

Flour streaked hands grab the hem of her dress to wipe away the errant tear tracks on her cheeks. Shaking her head once more, Sophia invokes her Fraldarius stubbornness and repeats her mantra. “I miss Daddy.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Annette pauses for a moment as an idea strikes her. There really isn’t anything to lose considering nothing else they have done so far has helped – not even the freshly baked cookies. “Hey, Sophie? Have you ever heard of a wishing well?”

“Wishing…well?” Little eyebrows scrunch up in curiosity.

Annette beams. “Yeah! It’s where you go when you have something you are wishing for that you really, really want to come true. I like to go there whenever I am feeling sad so that I can make a wish. How about we take you there so you can make a wish for your Daddy to come home faster?”

“I can wish to see Daddy?”

The hope stirring in her eyes makes Annette’s chest clench guiltily, but she’s desperate to cheer up this little girl who has taken up resident in her heart with her radiant smiles and cheer.

“Yep! They say that if you wish really, really hard that the Goddess will hear you and grant whatever you ask for.”

“Really?” Sophie turns to Mercedes with wide eyes in search of confirmation.

Smiling back, Mercedes nods. “Yes, that’s true. But if you want your wish to reach the Goddess, you must bring an offering that is connected to your wish. Do you know anything that your Daddy likes? Maybe something we can get from the pantry?”

“Cookies.”

There’s a beat of silence as Annette and Mercedes stare at each other.

Felix doesn’t like cookies.

“Uhh… are you sure you wouldn’t rather just eat the cookies?” Annette asks; neither of them are willing to call out a child, much less a distraught one. “Maybe there’s something else we can find?”

Even though they’ve only known Sophia Fraldarius for a little while, it doesn’t take a genius to know by the set of her shoulders and pout that her mind is made up, leaving the older girls no choice but to follow along, bundling up mini Pegasus cookies in a Mercedes’ white handkerchief and setting off for the well just outside the Cathedral’s main hall.

Thankfully, it is a relatively warm day and the wind does little to bother them, despite their high altitude. When the well comes into view, Sophie’s excitement grows with each step and by the time they reach the stone structure, the knot holding the handkerchief together threatens to spill cookies across the floor, loosened by her excited skipping.

“Oookay,” Annette claps her hands together and grins. “Before we make our wish, we need to make sure we properly present our offering.”

Placing the wrapped goods on the ledge of the well, all three girls take a step back and clasp their hands with Mercedes leading their prayer.

“Dear Goddess, we are grateful for your kindness and compassion. We offer these items in hopes that you will hear our wish and grant us what we seek. May you always watch over us and protect those we hold dear.”

Taking a step forward, Mercedes makes the first wish. “I wish for all our friends and comrades to come home safe from their battles.”

From Sophie’s other side, Annette goes next. “I wish to see improvements in my faith magic so that I can protect my friends.”

When it comes to her turn, Sophie steps forward hesitantly with her hands clutched to her chest. “I…I wish that I could see Daddy.”

Stepping back, Sophia hastens to mimic the other two and claps her hands twice to finish the ritual.

Even when they turn to head back towards the dining hall for dinner, Sophia carries her wish in her heart and repeats the prayer through the rest of the day and into bed. By the time she finally manages to fall asleep, her heart is swollen with enough hope that it chases away the night terrors and leaves her with dreams of riding through fields with the person she misses the most.

----

On the next day, Sophie rises with the sun.

Though still bleary eyed and exhausted, excitement runs like electric through her body and propels her from bed in a rush to get dressed in a forest green dress that matches a shirt she has seen in her fathers’ wardrobe.

If her wish really does come true, then Sophie wants to look her best so that her Daddy knows she has been taking care of herself and not out romping in the bush, wrecking havoc for her caretakers like she does so often when she visits the capital.

Breakfast crawls by ever so slowly, time moving with the same speed that her gloopy porridge drips from her spoon, but eventually the dining hall clears out and Sophie is able to drag Mercedes and Annette to the entrance of the main hall where she plants herself on the stone wall atop the staircase leading down to the marketplace.

“To make sure I don’t miss Daddy!” She had declared proudly to her caretakers when asked why she had picked this spot to settle down at.

Burnt sienna eyes focus heavily on the portcullis that protects the entrance to Garreg Mach. Even as the sky climbs higher in the sky and the noon bell tolls, Sophie does not leave her post, instead opting to eat her lunch consisting of sandwiches outside on her perch.

But as the hours of the day begin to count down and the sun sinks lower and lower towards the horizon, Sophie cannot stop the gnawing darkness of doubt that coils in her gut and grows stronger with the fading daylight.

“Still waiting?” Sylvain asks as he joins the small group of friends that have gathered anxiously anticipating the tears that will inevitably come when Sophie realizes that sometimes wishes don’t come true.

“It… probably wasn’t the best idea to give her false hope.” Ingrid frowns. “How are we going to console her when Felix doesn’t come back? He’s not due to arrive for another day.”

Letting out a moan, Annette drags a hand down her face. “I know! I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Now she’s going to be even more upset.”

“Why don’t you just tell her that Felix isn’t coming back tonight then?”

“Because Linhardt,” Leonie rolls her eyes. “We’re not monsters who go around killing children’s hopes and dreams.”

“All I’m saying is that the upfront disappointment might be the better alternative.”

“I’m sure we can just talk to her and explain that Felix will be back the day after tomorrow.” Mercedes reasons.

When the dinner bell tolls, it echoes throughout the courtyard and through the now-empty stalls. The sky glows with reds, pinks, and oranges that are slowly fading into the dark blue of the night sky, casting their last brilliant rays on the earth.

The sniffling that ensues shortly after the bell chime fades is expected, but no less painful.

“Is… is Daddy not coming?” It’s almost unfair how lethal Sophie’s teary face is as it cuts into their hearts.

“I’m sorry, Sophie.” Dorothea says, wrapping up the little Fraldarius in a tight hug. “I’m sure Felix is doing his best to come back soon. He’ll be here for sure in another day or so.”

Leonie flashes her best reassuring smile. “Yeah! I’m sure that Felix will be on his way home soon.”

“But I miss Daddy.”

More tears are coming now and the panic among the adults is steadily increasing.

Ashe and Annette do their best to offer small placating reasons as to why Felix hasn’t come back, however despite their best efforts, Sophie’s distress grows and grows until she is sobbing just as hard as when they first found her in the middle of the sealed forest.

“I want Daddy!”

“Hey, hey.” Dorothea coos. “It’s okay, no need for tears! Why don’t we get you inside first, hm? Sylvain can give you a piggy back ride, would that make you feel better?”

Ever on the same page as her girlfriend, Ingrid quickly drives her elbow into Sylvain’s ribs and pushes him forward.

“Ouch! Er. Yeah! Of course. How about it, Sophie? Want a ride back to the dining hall?” Sylvain beams and offers up his hands, but quickly retracts them when the wails increase in volume.

“Sylvain! What did you do?”

“What?! I didn’t do anything!”

Ingrid huffs. “Well, clearly you did. Listen to her! She’s crying even louder-“

“Rider at the gate!” The shout from the sentry breaks cuts through their argument and for one blessed moment, everything falls silent except for the sound of sniffling and hoofbeats on stone that grows ever louder as it approaches.

“Rider? Not a messenger?” Caspar frowns. It’s an odd announcement – there are very few people who are brave enough to travel solo during war – and the sentries know and recognize the Resistance army’s trusted messengers.

Which means that whoever is approaching is an ally, or someone they recognize… which is even more odd because everyone they know is either already accounted for inside the walls of Garreg Mach or are out on missions and not due back for a few days.

But when the portcullis finally raises and the oaken doors part, they too recognize the person astride the horse, now galloping through the marketplace with hair the colour of crimson flame and very familiar honey eyes trained only on the weeping child seated on the stone wall.

They all continue to gape silently in various states of shock even as the rider slows to a stop at the foot of the stairs.

“What the-“

It’s undeniable now.

If the Resistance Army thought it was weird that they now had two Felix’s, they were definitely not prepared for the arrival of an older looking Sylvain Jose Gautier decked out in noble regalia with another Lance of Ruin strapped to his back.

The lazy grin he flashes them is unmistakably Sylvain, but when his eyes finally return back to Sophie, his expression morphs into something so soft that it leaves the current Sylvain reeling.

“Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?”

Sophie wastes no time in scrambling to her feet and dashing down the stone banister to throw herself into the arms of the older looking Sylvain.

“Daddy!”

----------------------------

Author’s Note: This was so weird to write. Originally I wanted to do it in Sylvain's POV, but then it switched to Felix's POV, then I realized that I defaulted to active voice for Sylvain's part and told myself I would go back and change it to passive voice, but then the chapter just kept morphing and morphing and dear lord I don't know.

Imma just leave it in active voice for now. Because that's what feels right LOL. Maybe I'll have to scrap my whole passive voice practice; this chapter was hard enough to write as it is. English is hard. (Says the person with a major in English Literature).

Tag List: @pato-social

[thepandapopo]

Promises - A Sylvix 2020 Holiday Fic

Summary:

When Felix learns that Sylvain has never had the chance to truly enjoy the Yule holiday (or any holiday for that matter), he makes it his personal mission to correct this injustice.

OR

Felix just really wants Sylvain to know that he's loved. What better way than to melt down his favorite sword into an engagement ring?

Posted for A Very Sylvix Holiday 2020

Warnings: N/A. Rated T for vague mentions of sex. 

Sylvain/Felix #Sylvix  Fluff | Proposals | Family/Found Family #sylvixholiday  4300 words https://archiveofourown.org/works/28086762  I hope y'all like my sylvix holiday oneshot! As usual kudos, likes, and RTs welcome :) I hope I can share a little joy with all of you this holiday.

It was no secret that Sylvain and Felix grew up together. In fact, it was something that the older boy liked to remind their mutual friends every chance he got how adorable little Fe used to follow him around like a lost duckling, clinging to him whenever something or the other inevitably made his eyes mist with tears.

But in all his years growing up with Sylvain, the full force of Sylvain’s absolute joy over the Yule holiday never really came up until the year after the war ended, only a few months into his official ‘move in’ to the Fraldarius castle and the freedom that came from saying a long overdue fuck you to Margrave Gautier, whom – Dimitri assured – was on the fast track to being unseated so that Sylvain could finally take over and begin peace talks with Sreng.

“You’re acting like you’ve never celebrated Yule before.” Felix deadpanned as he watched his boyfriend (and new housemate) string tinsel along the hallways, complete with a mistletoe at every door.

Instead of a reply, Sylvain merely stuck his tongue out at him in an eerily reminiscent way that made Felix’s head spin with memories of two younger children in days long past.

He never really got an answer as to Sylvain’s strange behavior.

The Yule holiday season came and went, and it was only halfway through the next year on a sleepy summer morning that Felix learned why in one of their rare early morning pillow talks.

“What do you mean your family didn’t celebrate holidays?”

A warm huff of breath tickled the hairs atop his head, “it’s exactly like it sounds, Fe. My family wasn’t exactly the type to sit around a dinner table and chat amicably. The only time we celebrated was when we were with company or if my father wanted to rub elbows with other nobles and sniff out a marriage candidate for me.”

Felix is very glad that his face is buried in Sylvain’s chest so that he can’t see the fury in his eyes or the way that his eyes scrunch against a familiar sting when the truth squeezes his heart in a death grip.

His arms must also tighten unconsciously because just as soon as Felix makes some absent calculations on how long it would take to ride to Gautier and castrate Sylvain’s father, the warm strong arms around him are pulling him in tighter in reciprocation and a large hand tangles itself into his unbound locks.

“It’s fine,” Sylvain mutters, lips moving in a whisper across Felix’s forehead. “After all, I’ve got you now, don’t I? Holidays are for spending time with family at home and you are my home, Fe.”

Well, fuck him three way to Ailell if the fool isn’t right. Sylvain’s home is with him, here in Fraldarius castle. Here in his room, in his bed, and in his arms.

And fuck it all even more if Felix doesn’t make every holiday from that day forth the best damn holiday Sylvain has ever had to make up for his lost childhood.

Which is exactly how Felix finds himself standing in front of the stall of his favourite blacksmith in Fhirdiad later that year on the first snowfall of the season.

(It is very important that he does not go to a blacksmith in Fraldarius for this particular task because Goddess forbid Sylvain catch wind of this secret order and bother him about it.)

The weight slung across his hip is a familiar one – the well worn scabbard an extension of his own body and the sword sheathed inside a friend that carried him through the war, but more importantly, also the savior of Sylvain’s life too many times to count.

It only seems appropriate that it continues to accompany them throughout their future together.

“Lord Fraldarius!” The blacksmith greets heartily when he ducks under the entrance flap. “Or should I say Your Grace, now?”

The heat is sweltering inside, but it is easily overshadowed by the thrill and excitement of seeing the wide assortment of sharp blades strewn about for display. But alas, that is not what Felix is here for and he cannot bring home any evidence of what he is up to.

“No need for formalities, Than. Just Felix is fine.”

“Well then, young master Felix, what can I do for you this day? Another sharpening? Or perhaps a new blade?”

It’s all very tempting, but that’s not the reason why Felix has laden his gold purse with a hefty sum before coming here today.

“Actually, I was hoping you would be able to take on a custom request for me…”

----

It takes exactly 53 days before Than finishes his order just in the nick of time when Sylvain and Felix travel to the Kingdom capital with an invitation from Dimitri to spend the holiday with him, Byleth, and basically every other friend from the war that he can send a missive to.

It’s easy enough for Felix to slip away to the blacksmith’s once again while Sylvain is busy catching up with Ashe who chatters non stop about the booming success of Dedue’s Duscur cuisine, much to the embarrassment of the quiet giant who looks like he is torn between wanting to change the subject and basking in the praise of his ‘close friend’ (Sylvain snorts at that one because anyone with eyes can see how smitten Dedue is with the archer and vice versa).

It’s even easier to conceal the little velvet box underneath the layers and layers of wool that protect him from the bitter winter winds that Faerghus is known for.

What isn’t easy, is dragging Dimitri and Annette away to tell them his intentions because the last-minute invitation from their King throws off his entire original plan.

“Oh Goddess! Felix, it’s beautiful.” Annette gushes and peers at the silver band nestled snugly within the ring box cushions.

He’s not too sure about beautiful – there are other things more fitting to the word, like the very man he wants to give this ring to – but he does know that it is breathtaking in its own simple way.

The silver shines brighter than any gem and catches the light no matter which way it is turned. Etched onto the surface of the band in delicate handiwork are swirling lines weaving the symbols of Fraldarius and Gautier together to become something wholly new, something wholly Sylvain and Felix.

“There’s more.”

Gently, Felix pulls the ring out to show his two soon-to-be accomplices the detailing on the inside.

“Don’t bend it,” Felix glares a warning at Dimitri as he places the ring on the outstretched palm of his king.

“I promise I will not,” Dimitri chuckles, but Felix can hear the nervousness buried underneath in a way that only an entire lifetime of friendship can uncover. Regardless, the boar does not close his hand or pick up the seemingly tiny ring dwarfed in his palm, choosing instead to rotate his whole hand so that him and Annette can peer at the graceful cursive inscribed on the inside.

In Life and Death

“I…” Felix swallows the lump of emotion in his throat before continuing quietly, “I had it made from the sword that I used throughout the war.”

Both of his friends gasp at his admission, the crackling fire in the hearth flickering shadows across their faces that twist their face into a deeper shade of shock.

“But Felix,” Annette chokes, “You loved that sword. It was your favourite sword.”

Beside her, Dimitri nods emphatically, “I believe the very words you had said were ‘I will take this sword to my grave’.”

“You carry it around everywhere whenever you travel.”

“Indeed. I have rarely seen you without the familiar scabbard by your side.”

“You literally visited the blacksmith every moon during the war to make sure the blade was upkept.”

“The number of late nights you’ve spent sharpening-“

“Enough.” Felix hisses at them. “I get it, already.”

It’s another heartbeat of silence before he can muster up the courage to verbalize the emotions that are currently running through him; that have always thrummed in his veins whenever Sylvain is by his side.

“It’s… it’s because of how important that sword was to me that I wanted to re-forge it into something that I could give to Sylvain.”

Golden eyes turn down to the floor and Felix has to fight the visceral urge to scuff his boots against the floor like a boy who was just caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or in Felix’s case, with his hand on his father’s ceremonial swords mounted high above the fireplace, requiring both him and Glenn to even reach it.

“He still thinks I’m going to disappear someday and become a mercenary.”

It stings to say out loud, but it’s the truth and Felix will be damned if he ever becomes so much of a coward that he cannot even face the facts in front of him.

A shaggy lock of blonde hair falls from Dimitri’s half updo as he shakes his head. “I’m sure Sylvain doesn’t think that, Felix. You told him that you had decided against that and he believes you.”

But that’s not how Sylvain is. Felix knows that even if Sylvain tells him that he believes that Felix is here to stay, there will always be demons and ghosts lingering in the darkest corners of his mind, whispering poisonous words and you’re not worthy of love’s in his heart.

“He does, but I know him. He’s still scared; I want to give him this to prove that our promise is more than just dying together.” It is more. It is so much more. “It’s… it’s about living together, too.”

Felix does not elaborate further because he doesn’t need to. Despite Dimitri technically being his oldest friend, Sylvain was always his closest and it is no secret that Felix would fight a hundred wars just to see him happy. In fact, fighting to rebuild a world where crests no longer ruled over everyday life was one of the biggest reasons why he had fought to begin with.

He wanted to build a world where Sylvain was free to be… just Sylvain.

Turns out fighting an entire imperial army and a whole legion of crazy cultists is a lot easier than arguing with Sylvain’s demons.

“Oh Felix,” Annette sighs wistfully, “He’s going to love it.”

Felix certainly hopes so, because if he doesn’t, Felix is not only down one extremely well crafted blade, but more importantly it proves that maybe Felix doesn’t know Sylvain as well as he thinks he does.

Dimitri nods his assent, “It suits you both. Even if he didn’t, which I find impossible, he will love it simply because it is coming from you, Felix.”

If his self discipline was ever in question, it is long cleared based solely on the fact that Felix is still standing here under the awed gazes of his king and irritatingly fond friend despite how much every vein in his body screams at him to run literally anywhere else, just to get away from their scrutiny and out of the limelight. But his purpose in dragging Dimitri and Annette away is twofold and he has merely completed the first part of his goal, leaving the second most important bit still hanging in the air.

Taking a deep breath, Felix fills himself with the same steely determination that he brings whenever he steps on the battlefield.

“I’m going to need your help.”

----

Felix hates balls. But Sylvain likes them, and Felix likes making Sylvain happy so somehow Felix always ends up going to them.

Will you dance with me, Fe? Sylvain always asks with that stupidly blinding smile that makes Felix’s heart feel three times too small for the amount of love he feels for the man. And even though he wants to say no, there isn’t an ounce of will in him to actively go against something that clearly means so much to Sylvain.

Each time without fail Felix ends up being twirled around on the dancefloor to the lilting notes of a waltz – or maybe it’s the quickstep? Not that it matters since Sylvain’s leading is graceful enough that even Felix can keep up.

Which is exactly what he banks on.

“Come on, Fe! You owe me a dance still.” Sylvain tugs the flute of champagne from his hand, slipping his own calloused fingers through Felix’s and drawing him gently towards the open floor.

In the sea of Faerghus blues and whites, Sylvain cuts through the slowly diminishing crowd of the Yule ball like the blazing dawn of a new day tugging Felix along by his heartstrings.

He must make a face, because soon enough he’s being bombarded with pouty honey browns and Felix is drowning and completely at the mercy of the man before him.

“Just one.” Felix huffs. He has to put on a show of his usual reluctance after all. Otherwise Sylvain will start to become suspicious.

Sylvain winks like he’s in on a big secret, “just one.”

(They both know it won’t be just one.)

From across the room, Felix nods subtly to Dimitri who is following them with watchful eyes, and immediately, the King disappears to put into motion their grand master plan. If all goes well, Annette should also be on the move rounding up all their friends and entreating the small string quartet to play a half dozen more songs, just enough for the remaining stragglers to retire for the night at the encouragement and behest of Dimitri, before ending the evening with one final song request.

Felix barely has enough time to quickly run through the rest of his plan in his head before warm hands circle his waist and tug him closer into a lungful of citrusy bergamot and earthy pine.

The weight of the small box in his pocket is heavy, but the way Sylvain’s eyes melt into warm chocolate and the encompassing warmth of belonging make Felix feel like he’s walking on air. The world falls away to nothing around them and Felix knows with a surety borne from walking alongside this man for his whole life, that Sylvain is also here in this moment with him.

I love you.

I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

I never want you to feel lonely ever again.

His heart is pounding but Felix does not know if it’s from nerves or from the suddenly overwhelming need to let Sylvain know just how much he is loved.

Steps flow into more steps, and yet it feels like no time at all passes before the world comes back into focus as the first lilting notes of Felix’s requested song (communicated by virtue of Annie) fill the room.

As planned, the hall is almost entirely empty now save for their close friends who loiter around the sides. A flash of bright orange in his periphery tells Felix that Annette is busy running proxy and filling their companions in on the plan.

Goddess knows what Dimitri is up to. Though Felix has a sinking suspicion that the stupidly soft-hearted boar is probably sniffing away happy tears somewhere behind a glass of sparkling cider.

The music swells and that is Felix’s cue.

“Sylvain.” He doesn’t dare speak any louder, lest he break the spell that they are under.

Hazy brown eyes focus slightly, even as Sylvain gives a distracted hum in response.

“I…” Goddess, why are words so hard? “I… I know that you never got to enjoy Yule or any other holiday really when you were growing up.”

“Hm?” Now he has Sylvain’s full attention. “Felix, are you still thinking about what I told you in the summer? It’s fine. Really. I have you now and that’s all that matters.”

“But it’s not okay,” Felix grouses out, still dancing. “It’s not okay that you were robbed of happiness so early in your life. It’s not okay that you never understood what it was like to be loved until we basically beat it into your thick skull at the academy.”

Insulting Sylvain is definitely not how Felix wants this to go, but he relaxes a little when Sylvain merely laughs, “that’s one way to tell me you love me, Fe.”

“I do.” Felix says, almost defiantly as he raises his gaze to meet Sylvain’s stunned one. “I love you more than you know and more than you believe, and it’s because I love you that I promise that I will make up for all those years that you should have been happy – I’ll make every year better than the last.”

It must look so odd, Felix thinks, how the more determined and steelier his face gets, the sappier and lovestruck Sylvain’s expression becomes.

“Fe,” Sylvain’s breath washes over Felix’s face as he presses a soft kiss to his lips. “You already make me so happy. Everyday with you is worth everything I’ve gone through and more. I truly… I truly don’t deserve you.” When Sylvain pulls away, there is a sad smile tugging at his face and a distant part of Felix wants to smack it right off.

“You do deserve me.” Felix snaps. The music is slowly dying away now and his voice comes out louder in the growing silence of the hall than he intends, but his heart is beating a mile a minute and there’s no stopping now, and so Felix decides to hurl himself headlong into the deep end.

“You deserve so much, Sylvain. So much more than I can give you, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try.” Felix pulls them to a stop in the middle of the dance floor and gathers both of Sylvain’s much larger ones in his.

He doesn’t dare look up at the love of his life, but their lives are so entwined that Felix can picture with crystal clarity the look of growing confusion and wide eyes that is surely adorning Sylvain’s expression.

“Sylvain Jose Gautier.” Felix likes the way the name rolls off his tongue, but he would like it even better if there was another name added to the end. “You are the biggest fool I’ve ever met. You throw yourself into danger to protect those that you love, yet you never consider yourself worthy of love in return.”

Felix builds enough courage now to look up at Sylvain to see the startled wild confusion grow in his eyes.

Eyes that widen even further as Felix sinks down to one knee with his hands still cradled in Felix’s left, as his right reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a simple velvet box.

“I know,” Felix swallows the lump in his throat and tightens his grip on Sylvain’s hands which are now physically trembling, “I know that you’ve never thought that you would be happy. That you deserved to be happy. But I want to prove you wrong.”

There are tears running down Sylvain’s face now as his mind finally puts the pieces together and the reality of the situation fully dawns upon him.

“I never want you to feel like you aren’t loved ever again. I never want you to feel lonely or like there is no one out there who has your back. I never want you to feel like your life is conditional and that you have to cripple who you are just to be accepted.”

Goddess. Sylvain truly is an ugly crier. Blast him for looking so handsome anyways even with his nose scrunched up and fat crocodile tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“I love you, Sylvain, and I want to spend the rest of our lives proving it to you, so will you marry me?”

The beat after the metaphorical ball drops is painfully long, but when time resumes again, Sylvain’s knees buckle beneath him and he collapses in a sobbing heap, his body leaning into Felix like he is touch starved and Felix holds the warmth of home in his arms.

“You-“ Sylvain’s voice is hoarse as he chokes the words out through his tears, “You… want to marry me? Marry me?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to.”

(Across the room, Dimitri has to hold Ingrid back from throwing a cup at Felix’s head)

“But, it’s me! Felix, I’m a mess. How could you ever want someone as broken as me?” There is desperation in Sylvain’s eyes, but it is wild, like Sylvain himself doesn’t know if he’s desperate for Felix to just take this last out he’s providing or to reassure him that yes, this is really happening and yes, Felix really wants to marry him.

“You idiot.” Felix huffs fondly, reaching up a pale scarred hand to gently thumb away the nonstop tears on Sylvain’s face. “I’ve wanted you since we were children. I will never stop wanting you. You might be a mess, but you’re my mess.”

Felix withdraws his grip slowly and finally opens the velvet box clutched in his hand. He doesn’t hear so much as feel the sharp inhale from Sylvain as he reveals the glittering silver ring nestled in the soft cushion.

“Do you remember the sword that I carried with me throughout the war?”

Sylvain scrubs his eyes and nods, “Yeah. I remember. Why? What happened-“

Brown eyes widen almost comically again and Sylvain stares at the ring with his mouth agape.

“Felix. Felix, don’t tell me…”

“If this doesn’t prove how serious I am, then I don’t know what will.”

“But Felix, you loved that sword.”

Felix doesn’t even pause to think before he retorts, “You truly are a fool if you think that I love a sword more than I love you.”

Felix does not expect for Sylvain to burst into sobs again, but rather than the irritation that he’s sure he would have felt under different circumstances, the only thing Felix can feel right now is warmth and love blooming in his chest.

“Sylvain,” Felix feels a small smile tug at the corner of his lips as he brings his hand up to frame Sylvain’s tearful face, “will you marry me?”

The crooked wobbly smile that graces Sylvain’s face next is one that Felix will remember for the rest of his life. It is the same one that he’s seen only a handful of times, but he knows what it means and Felix swears that he will dedicate the rest of his life finding ways to silence the demons and bring out that smile again and again and again.

“Yes.”

----

Neither of them remembers much of the celebration after Felix slips the ring on Sylvain’s finger.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of bottles upon bottles of champagne (the good stuff, according to Ashe who may have had a peek in the cellars) and laughter and congratulations.

But most importantly, it passes with Sylvain being surrounded by the people who have risked life and limb for him, and Felix hopes that this is at least a decent start to spending the rest of his life making his future husband happy.

---

It is only much later that night in the aftermath of rumpled sheets and whispers of pleasure that Felix succumbs to the incessant voice at the back of his mind, itching to ask what he already knows but wants reassurance of anyways.

“Did you… was this Yule better than last year?” His breath ghosts over the red hairs on Sylvain’s chest, stirring the owner to shift away ticklish and shuffle so that he can look down at his fiancé.

“Yeah, it was. It was absolutely wonderful.” Sylvain’s voice is quiet when he answers. Quiet enough that the sincerity of it strikes Felix through the heart and stirs the butterflies in his stomach. Above him, he can feel Sylvain’s muscles shifting as he examines his new engagement ring in the moonlight and Felix pointedly does not point out the fresh batch of tears that well up in Sylvain’s eyes when he finds the inscription carved on the inside.

Felix nods his head once in a jerky movement, the abruptness a stark contrast to the curl of satisfactory success blooming in his gut. Good. That’s one year down and an entire lifetime to go.

“I keep my promises, you know.”

He doesn’t need to say it, but the part of him that is finely tuned into the entity that is Sylvain tells him that these are words he needs to hear regardless of how difficult they are tripping up and out of his mouth.

“I promised that I would make up for all those shitty years that you never got to celebrate properly.”

Sylvain huffs a laugh into his hair, “well, you’re off to a strong start. I believe you also promised me that you would make each year better than the last.”

He’s teasing, but Felix hears the small sliver of shy hope that toes the open space between them timidly, almost as if the fool didn’t just hear him say that he keeps all his damn promises.

It will be a long and hard battle before Felix can officially claim victory over Sylvain’s doubts, but he’s no stranger to war and this is one that he already knows the outcome of.

“I will,” Felix whispers into a sweet kiss, “I promised.”

---

It comes as no surprise that Felix stays true to his word.

Either Felix is the most brilliant strategist in all of Fodlan or Sothis herself watches over them, for in a fortuitous twist of fate, the next Yule seasons brings Sylvain and Felix a beautiful baby girl that they lovingly name Sophia Gabriella Fraldarius-Gautier.

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[thepandapopo]

A Step Through Time Chapter 2: Context

I'm trying something different.

My previous chapter was written in active voice because I generally prefer writing like that (more engaging, easier to write etc. ), but I wanted to practice writing in passive voice as well. I've read so many fics lately where authors write in past tense and passive voice and it's absolutely AMAZING, and I wish i could do that too. Thus, I've decided that any Felix centric chapters I write will all be in active since he's technically from the future so present tense is as close as I can get, and any Sylvain centric chaps will be written in passive voice/past tense since it's in 'the past'. ish. kinda.

Pairing: Sylvain x Felix

Synopsis:

In which Sylvain wallows in his self hatred before Felix comes to provide him context.

OR

The one where Sylvain is so incredibly dense and Felix has to all but spell it out for him.

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Fatherhood suited Felix.

But then again, Sylvain thought absently to himself, he always knew that it would. Although Felix put up an exterior that was colder than the frigid Faerghus winters, he was always patient and gentle with children; never hesitating to unwearyingly pass down his swordsmanship if asked.

Sylvain had always loved children, but the problem was that he did not love women. At least, not in the way that was needed to be able to actually form a healthy relationship and conceive a child. Years of being pressured with talks of marriage proposals and being clinically ogled by women who only saw him for his crest had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Not to mention he would never want his child to be shackled with the burden of a crest in this world. A crest wasn’t a status of nobility like everyone believed. No, it was a death sentence given shortly after birth.

He would be lying though, if he said that he had never imagined a faceless red haired child running into his arms with gleeful shouts of ‘Daddy!’ ringing off the halls of the Gautier estate.

But Felix. Felix had never cared about crests. No, Felix had always liked Sylvain for Sylvain. The youngest Fraldarius had always had a knack for stripping away the red head’s carefully constructed masks, peeling them away with his eyes like they were paper thin and nothing more than a slight hindrance, piercing down to his very core and laying bare everything that Sylvain was. And even when he stripped away all the beautiful lies and cover ups and only the gross ugly truth of who Sylvain Jose Gautier remained… even then, Felix never turned away from him.

Future Felix was… different.

Sylvain wouldn’t necessarily say that Future Felix was purposely ignoring him, but he was most definitely going out of his way to avoid interacting with the Gautier. Even now, as Sylvain stood partially obscured by the shadow of one of the monastery pillars watching the older swordsman sit patiently while his daughter – Sophia Gabriella Fraldarius, was how Future Felix introduced her - gleefully weaved an impressive assortment of wildflowers into his long midnight hair, Sylvain felt a tightness in his chest.

Although Sylvain entertained the idea of one day siring a child, he would give up that dream in a heartbeat for the chance to spend the rest of life with Felix.

He wanted Felix, or he wanted no one.

But Sophie… little Sophie was proof that Felix did not feel the same.

Goddess. He had taken lances to the stomach, and even been nearly burned alive by a Bolganone spell, but none of those could compare to the pain of having his deepest hope undeniably ripped away from him.

“Sylvain.”

He nearly gave himself whiplash with how quickly he swiveled to face the newcomer behind him.

“Oh hey, Professor! Didn’t see you there.”

“Are you spying on Future Felix and Sophie?”  Her mint eyes fixed on him in a cool, calm manner just daring him to lie to her.

“Ahaha…” he scratched the back of his head. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one, you’re hiding in the shadows.”

“Professor! I am wounded that you doubt me so.” He clutched his chest dramatically.

Although he knew that his puppy eyes never worked on his former teacher, years of carefully fabricated masks made it second nature and he felt his face contort into a sad pout before his mind could catch up.

Maybe this was why Felix ended up marrying someone else.

How could he ever want someone as fake and broken as Sylvain?

“Sylvain.”

“Professor, I swear I was just passing by and momentarily paused to see what they were doing.” Not a complete lie; Technically Sylvain had just been passing through the courtyard when he spotted Future Felix casually sitting on the grass, carefully watching Sophie as she went digging through the wilder patches of vegetation that had been ignored while they restored the rest of the monastery, on a hunt for any kinds of flowers she could get her hands on.

Except that was close to ten minutes ago and he most definitely was spying now.

Byleth looked at him with an expression that he could only describe as torn between complete skepticism and sympathy.

“Very well, if you insist.” Sylvain felt his shoulders sag with relief. “I will see you at our roundtable strategy meeting this afternoon?” She turned to leave but turned her head towards him waiting for his answer.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Byleth nodded her farewell and Sylvain watched as her overcoat fluttered in her wake. He would have to be more careful around her – the last thing he wanted was for her to invite him to a tea party so that she could grill him on why he was so distracted lately.

It wasn’t his fault that the presence of a certain child was making him act out of sorts.

“Sylvie!”

Speaking of.

Sylvain turned and smiled down at Sophie who was grinning at him. In her grubby little hands, she held out a drooping orange pansy.

“Oh, is this for me?” Sylvain kneeled down so that he was eye level with Sophie and reached out to accept the flower. Before he could wrap his much larger hand around the delicate stem, she quickly retracted her hand.

“For you! In your hair like Papa.”

The bright orange would look washed out in his own brightly colored hair, but he could not bring himself to care and bent his head to allow Sophie better access. When she was finished, she gave his head a little pat of satisfaction and he winked at her. “Does it make me look pretty?”

“Sylvie is always pretty! But not as pretty as Papa.”

“Oh, is that so?” From the corner of his eye, Sylvain watched as Future Felix approached and plastered on the most convincing casual grin he could muster. “Well, I suppose I cannot argue with that. Your Papa is very pretty after all. Probably the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

“Insufferable as always.” Felix rolled his eyes and settled against the stone pillar next to him. The words were familiarly harsh, but the lack of bite behind it made it seem odd.

Ignoring the nervous coil in his gut, Sylvain turned his attention back to the little Fraldarius child. “He looks especially pretty with all the flowers. You did such a wonderful job, Sophie!”

Goddess, current Felix was already strikingly handsome, but Future Felix was in a whole other league. While he normally kept his hair up in a long ponytail, today he decided to wear it down in a braid that cascaded over one shoulder, tumbling in a waterfall of ink ending just slightly below his chest. The stark contrast of the bright flowers in his hair served as a glaring reminder that this Felix was much softer and settled in his own skin than his Felix was.

Silence descended on the pair as Sophie dashed back into the tall grass to pick more flowers ‘to make Sylvie a crown’.

“So…”

“You don’t have to talk, you know.” Sylvain let out a nervous chuckle. At least the future Felix was still blunt and straight to the point.

“Sorry. Nervous habit.”

“…I know.”

Of course, he did. Felix could always read him like an open book; though whether that was from a literal lifetime of friendship or if it was because he was the only one to actually take the time to get to know Sylvain as a person was entirely up for debate.

It took an embarrassingly long time for Sylvain to calm his heartbeat, but after he had managed to wrangle his growing attraction to the future version of his crush, Sylvain had to admit that the quiet companionship was…nice. Not that he would ever say that aloud – given his reputation of putting his foot in his mouth whenever it came to Felix, Sylvain was one hundred percent sure that he would somehow mess things up even more, leading to the Future Felix avoiding him even more than he was already.

He didn’t want Felix to avoid him. Either Felix. But ever since Sophie showed up, his Felix began drawing away and sequestering himself even more than usual.

“…Just spit it out already.”

“What?”

To anyone else, they would have described the look that Felix had on his face as exasperated, but Sylvain knew better. Though he lacked the rigid set of his shoulders that he was used to seeing in his Felix, his crossed arms and cock of the hip was the same as always – closed off from the world like he couldn’t care les. However, the liquid molten amber of his eyes was enough to show that he was willing to wait for as long as it took Sylvain to share.

“Silence doesn’t suit you,” Felix snorted. “No matter how many times I tell you to shut up, you never seem to take my advice. The only time you actually stop blathering on is when you have something you want to say but you’re too scared to do it.”

Suddenly Sylvain wished that Future Felix would go back to avoiding him.

“Sorry. I just-“

“Sylvain.”

Backed into a corner, Sylvain blurted out the one thing that had made a permanent home in his mind ever since he had laid eyes on their time travelling guest.

“I like your hair like this. Long, I mean.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. “It suits you.”

For a moment, Felix looked at him with an inscrutable look – almost like he was sizing him up while also trying to supress some unknown emotion.

After a brief pause, the only response that Sylvain received was a short but amused, “I know.”

Sylvain felt his eyebrow rise in surprise. “You know? What does that mean?”

“Someone told me that they preferred me with long hair. So, I decided to grow it out.”

“Seriously?” Felix had once chewed him out for simply suggesting that he buy an pair of fancier boots for formal functions, so the idea that he would grow out the one thing he took pride in his appearance for someone else was, for lack of a better word, complete bullshit. “You’re growing out your hair because someone told you they preferred you with long hair? I know for a fact that it annoys you if it grows past your shoulders and you never really cared for other’s opinions, so what’s the real reason?”

Felix shrugged, dislodging a white daisy in the process and sending it tumbling down before he caught it and returned it to its rightful place. “Believe what you will. You know I don’t lie.”

It was true. In all their years as friends, Felix had never once lied to Sylvain; not even when he was spitting mad at him for jumping into danger headfirst or missing training for a date with another nameless girl.

Whoever said it, they clearly had a lot of sway in Felix’s opinion. Which meant that they must be extremely close to him; close enough that he – oh.

“Did your…” Fuck why was his throat so dry all of a sudden? “Did your wife tell you that?”

Of all the responses that he had expected to receive, a violent choke and spluttering was not one of them.

“My what? Goddess, no.” Felix clutched his chest as he wheezed and glared at Sylvain with exasperation. “Don’t be stupid.”

“What’s so stupid about that? It’s a pretty solid guess, in my opinion.” Sylvain willed his voice to stay light and aloof even while his heart was twisting and doing flip flops in his chest. “You’d only listen to someone who you really cared about, and seeing as you’re married-“ he jabbed a finger at the glittering onyx band, “-I assume that your significant other would be the only one who could possibly influence your appearance choices.”

Everything in Sylvain’s body screamed at him to drop the subject and run away as fast as possible, but his curiosity made him stay even though his chest felt like Raphael had dropped one of his large training boulders on him. Distantly, a part of Sylvain’s mind wondered that he might possibly be a masochist.

“You…” Felix frowned at him and straightened to face Sylvain fully. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Tilting his head, Sylvain felt his brows scrunch up even as the question left his lips. “Know what?”

Clearly, he had missed a memo and was very interested in remedying that.

“Shit, I know you told me but I didn’t really think that it was true. There was no way it could be true.” The hand adorned with his wedding band came up to scrub down his eyes. It was odd seeing Future Felix look this uncertain; for a guy who had literally lived the present day already, it was strange that something could cause him to look so conflicted.

“Sylvain, you’ve never once gotten me to come with you to ‘pick up girls’, so what on earth makes you think I have a wife?”

“Uh. I don’t know, maybe your wedding band?!”

“Sylvain. I don’t like women.”

Yeah well, neither did Sylvain, but that was neither here nor there.

“You don’t need to like women to get married and have a kid.” Felix couldn’t argue with that. Sylvain was literally the poster boy for a noble trapped in a life of obligation to his crest. “Which you clearly do.” To prove his point, Sylvain jerked his thumb over towards where Sophie was still digging through the dirt and pulling out flowers by the bunches, adding them to the already overflowing mismatched bouquet in her other hand.

Felix’s hand twitched and Sylvain had the vaguest feeling that the man was trying his best not to stab him.

“No, Sylvain.” Uh oh. There was that tone again. “I don’t like women. At all.”

“Yeah, Fe. I get it. Women are awful.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why can’t you just understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Because you’re not telling me anything to help me understand! Give me context, or something.” Sylvain threw his hands up in the air in frustration. Clearly Felix did not learn to improve his communication in his extra twelve years of existence.

“Fine.” Felix groused. “You want context? I’ll give you context. Sophie!”

At the mention of her name, Sophie perked up from her place in the tall grass and hurried to scramble over, trampling some poor flowers and quite a large number of weeds in the process.

“Yes, Papa?” There are smears of dirt on her face and grass stains streaked across her dress, but despite it all, Sylvain thought that she still looked as radiant as ever. Of course, that was a given since any child of Felix’s was bound to be beautiful.

“Do you remember what I told you before about not mentioning that word?” Felix kneeled and tucked a loose crimson lock back in place.

Sophie nodded.

“I’m going to ask you a question that I want you to answer. Don’t worry about breaking the promise, okay? It’s fine to mention it just this once.”

“Okay, Papa.”

Felix’s gaze locked on Sylvain’s and he could literally feel the weight and purpose behind his stare.

He wanted context? Felix was more than happy to deliver.

“Sophie, can you tell Sylvie where you got your sword?”

Sword? What in Fodlan did a sword have anything to do with -

“It was a gift from Papa and Daddy!”

Sylvain’s thoughts screech to a halt.

Papa and…Daddy?

Sylvain. I don’t like women.

I don’t like women. At all.

For the second time today, Sylvain had half a mind to feel embarrassed at how slowly he put the pieces together; only managing to gape at Felix who looks half relieved that Sylvain finally, finally understands, but also half apprehensive.

Holy shit.

Felix fucking Fraldarius was gay.