Chapter Text
The epiphany came, as they often do, in the midst of silent reflection shared between many people simultaneously.
The sauna was open at all hours and Claude, Dimitri, and Felix had been the ones to train late into the night, which was not unusual. They joined one another there in the steam afterwards when most everyone else was already deeply at rest, sleeping off the efforts of a war and trying to ward off the nightmares of bleeding and breaking and losing their comrades in arms.
They'd all just returned from a long, overseas journey, a downright stressful mission. They'd been hoping to secure some reinforcements from Brigid, and had accompanied Petra by boat to escort her to meet with her grandfather. Unfortunately, Hubert showed up, as unpleasant things often do. He'd nearly killed Petra, Bernadetta, and Claude all in one go, blasting open the Brigid forest canopy with a Meteor the size of a Goddess-damned moon, or so it seemed at the time. And when the moon sails down with a halo of fire on one’s friends, one doesn’t expect to see them again.
It was Felix and Dimitri who had managed to save all three archers by pinning the dark mage back, advancing on him both at once. They rarely worked as a team, but it had been a shared victory, enough that they were even civil to one another afterwards--or rather, exchanged civil nods since nothing else could be managed. They'd driven the Imperial forces back and got everyone out alive. On top of that, they'd secured the Brigid reinforcements they'd come for. A rousing success, but at the price of a harrowing trauma for all of them, and many devastating injuries and broken limbs that only one person had been able to help them with.
Sylvain.
They hadn’t brought Linhardt and Mercedes, as both of them were recovering from a surprise round of Imperial mages in the Sealed Forest. Both were far more competent healers, but they hadn’t planned on Hubert and had not expected to require Sylvain’s limited knowledge of white magic.
He hadn’t seemed fussed about being employed to heal. Rather, Sylvain was rarely bothered when put in any position; he was helpful and relaxed no matter his situation or station. He was quick with a smile and a joke just as much when handed a lance, an axe, an injured soldier. And as Claude, Petra, and Bernadetta lay side by side in desperate condition, he slaved over them, toiling without complaint, and coaxing them back to the world with winks and nudges and reminders of how sexy bruises and scars were.
They were always a little less scared when Sylvain came around. Annoyed, maybe. Endeared, often.
Sylvain was there when Dimitri snarled at his ghosts, he was there beside the grave when Felix pretended that Rodrigue’s death didn’t bother him one bit, he was there when Claude took the brunt of the Meteor for Petra and Bernadetta, unable to sit back and watch them die. Sylvain defended Dimitri’s trauma, Felix’s outbursts, Claude’s tough and calculating choices. He was there when they bled, when they suffered, when they wished he wasn’t. Present, calm, healing, protective.
And only at the end of the day, nearing three in the morning in the steam of the sauna, did all three of them come to terms with that at once. So wrapped up in their own problems, it was easy to pretend a man who smiled and teased couldn’t possibly have any problems. How could Sylvain, who took nothing seriously, hurt? How could he suffer?
But today they had seen him suffering, and they had done nothing. Just a bad day, they told themselves. In a war, everyone had those. Surely he’d get over it. And they had been so busy...
Claude spoke first. “Hey, did you guys know we were assholes?” he said casually.
Dimitri’s head jerked up, his scars puffy and pink in the heat. “What?”
Felix just sort of… grunted his assent. He was always an asshole, to be fair, and he didn’t mind. But Sylvain deserved it significantly less than others. “Why bring it up now? He’s either asleep or off with one of the knights or monks,” he pointed out gruffly, dragging his dark hair over his shoulder to squeeze the sweat out of it.
“Yeah, no point waking him up.”
“Are you guys talking about Sylvain?” Dimitri noted sharply.
“Obviously, boar, keep up.”
Dimitri sighed, shaking his great, maned head. “I was just thinking of him as well… he looked so upset today. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so down.”
The rest of them quietly contemplated the anniversary that had just passed, the day of Miklan’s death. There were a lot of mixed feelings there--for Sylvain, not for anyone else. Claude might have had pity for Miklan’s lot in life as a Crestless, disinherited first son, but everyone else despised him, dismissed him as the one who’d made their Sylvain’s life so miserable, even in death. It didn’t help that the anniversary came on top of some other bad news; Edelgard’s armies marched ever northward and utterly condemned a few villages in her wake, one in which Sylvain had spent a lot of time as a child.
“What should we do?” Dimitri asked hoarsely. At least he was more focused on the present and future now, instead of a past he couldn’t change or exact revenge for.
Claude was already thinking about it, rubbing the wet hair of his chin. “Hm. Well, it wouldn’t do much good to bring up those sorry-ass events. We can at least do something nice for him. He deserves that much.”
“Like… a gift?” Felix put forth. He was not a man wholly comfortable with showing much affection, even when it lingered under the surface of his skin. Buying something was easy. Fighting was even better, and offering to do so was a sure sign of respect from any Fraldarius.
“No,” Claude sighed, a bit exasperated with Felix. They all loved Sylvain, but Felix, he was sure, was the worst at showing it. “By giving him what he’s always given us. Attention.” It was why he was always acting out, after all. He needed it. Craved it. Desired to be known for his personal triumphs and skills--not the blood he bore which was the one thing girls noticed first about him, and didn’t care to know the rest. That he was particularly gifted with black magic. That he could play the violin. That he honestly loved horses and wyverns as much as he loved dogs. That he enjoyed chess much more than lance training. All things that Felix, Dimitri, and Claude had come to learn about him during varying moments in their relationship.
Dimitri seemed to reflect on this and slowly nodded. “Yes. Yes, we have a bit of leisure time over the next week while we’re waiting on supplies.”
Claude pointed at him. “Right. So we are going to spend it on Sylvain. Got it, Fe?”
“Why are you directing that at me like I wouldn’t?” Felix snapped back, sitting upright in complete indignation, almost losing the towel around his waist. Dimitri smiled and winced at the same time and exchanged a glance with Claude. “Oh, just for that stupid look, I’m going to give him a better time than either of you could!” he hissed.
“A good use of your competitive nature,” Claude sighed, shrugging his shoulders. As he predicted, Dimitri also perked up. Even after the man had gone temporarily insane, he still possessed his old habits, and love of competition (and Sylvain) was one of many he retained.
“I think this is a good idea,” Dimitri beamed. “We should each arrange a date for him. He is always taking us to enjoyable events and trying to learn what we like. We should do the same for him!”
Claude smiled. These two were so easy. But this was a good cause. Sylvain deserved to be reminded that he was loved by many. That he didn’t always have to be the one who smiled and cheered them up. That he was worthy of their time and affection too. He had his own plans that he’d been mulling over for a while. “So let’s each plan a nice day for him, all right? Felix, you seem eager, you want to go first?”
“Ah, actually,” Dimitri interrupted a bit sheepishly (so fucking
strange
how he could pull off a timid look like that after they’d all seen him gleefully covered in blood during battles). “I already made plans to take tea with him tomorrow…”
“Isn’t that cheating?” Felix snapped. Of course, he was still thinking of this as a competition.
“Only if His Royal Highness makes Sylvain do any of the work,” Claude pointed out.
“Uh-huh. And how are we keeping score?”
Claude wished he could point out that Felix and Dimitri
could
do this just because they both loved Sylvain, and he knew they would, honestly. He just hoped that the competition would drive Felix to actually try a bit harder since his ideas using revolved around fighting or gifts. “Hm… we could spy.”
“You’re the king of that, Claude,” Dimitri sighed. “Who will be watching you?”
“Hey, I’m treating this as a treat for Sylvain, not a stupid competition. Geez, you Kingdom folks…”
When each of them went to bed that night, they schemed up things Sylvain would like to do. Yes, Felix and Dimitri liked competition, but Sylvain was worth all of their efforts despite that. And even if Felix wouldn’t admit it, he loved Sylvain as much as the other two.
Sylvain was always putting forth the effort, both in romance, care, and in the bedroom. Now it was their turn to show him their appreciation for all that he did.