Work Header

The Masks We Wear

Chapter Text

The princess sat proudly on her horse as she waited at the border, two guards on their own horses a short way behind her.

She was to meet her future husband here, a man from the very family of Fodlan warriors that had been fighting her people for generations. The marriage would cement peace between the two groups, and in the eyes of the king of Sreng… That peace was welcome.

They may be warriors, but only an idiot continues to fight an opponent who never fails to win the fight.

She watched the approaching red-head with a critical gaze as he rode towards the group, completely alone. She judged him to be about a year older than her, but that was all she could determine from such a distance.

He didn’t look like much of a warrior.

It was almost laughable that she would be marrying him. Even as she gazed at the lance that had cut down thousands of her people… She could hardly believe that this was the lord’s son.

But from the description she’d been given by the envoys, this was indeed her future husband.

When he was finally close enough to speak, he looked at her with about the same amount of reluctance as she felt. But unlike her, he didn’t hide it well.

In fact, he didn’t hide it at all.

“You are…” She paused, attempting to recall the name she’d been given. “Sylvain?”

He looked taken aback by her words, as if he’d expected her to be unable to speak his language. Or perhaps he was surprised by the accent. To the princess, it was unclear.

“I am.” He sighed, his gaze darting to the guards behind her.

“My apologies for the…” She paused again, frowning as she tried to remember the word. “Guards. My father… Ah… Insisted.”

“You must be (y/n).” The boy said at last, turning his gaze back to the princess. “You’re far prettier than the envoy suggested.”

She tilted her head, frowning with confusion.

The guards behind her began whispering to each other, neither of them able to understand the conversation. But before they could draw their swords, the princess held up her hand to silence them.

“Well, princess,” He sighed, turning his horse. “Shall we?”

The princess merely nodded, waving away her guards as she moved her horse forward.

She stepped over the border from one land to the next, setting a series of events in motion that would change Fodlan forever.