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The blood splattered all across the floor, body still and sword stabbed right through his stomach
Felix’s brain refused to process this despite the plain, harsh reality lying in front of him
The body’s lips wore a solemn smile, like he knew he couldn’t overpower Felix and expected this all along.
Felix looked at his hands, gloves coated in scarlet
He looked right into the victim’s eyes. They're barely alive and scarcely breathing, body losing life as every second passed.
And if Felix Hugo Fraldarius shed a tear as he struck down Sylvain Jose Gautier, no one had to know
A decade-long bond, gone like that, just because Sylvain chose the other side of the war. All the trust, all the respect, all the love, vanished. War showed no mercy and Felix knew this more than anything. Glenn wasn’t shown mercy, why would Sylvain have that privilege? He chose the wrong side, the bad side, the side that chose to wage war. All traces of the innocent, cheerful boy with his arm outstretched at the young Fraldarius when he fell down was gone.
Or at least, he had to tell himself that because if he was wrong about the Gautier, he would hesitate and hesitation caused death on the battlefield. But when Sylvain just accepted like his death was inevitable, like dying by his old best friend’s hand was meant to be, the young Fraldarius was struck with a realization.
Sylvain had his Hero’s Relic with him but he didn’t use it. Felix’s relic was broken and needed fixing so he couldn’t use it without suffering severe consequences and he knew when Sylvain was actually putting his all in battle, especially for his friends, the redhead could have easily given Felix the fight of his life, for his life at this point. Sylvain gave off the impression of a womanizer and someone who broke hearts left and right without a care. only a select few could see through that facade and see the true Sylvain: selfless, compassionate and brave. Someone who would do their best to ensure their friend’s safety and was way too self-sacrificing for his own good. Felix had to experience it firsthand countless times, on the battlefield and as a kid.
So Sylvain’s instincts kicked in, his protectiveness kicked in and he didn’t want to kill Felix so he did his best to defend myself but not kill.
“You bastard…” Felix whispered under his breath. He couldn’t risk dawdling, he sensed the Brigid girl’s presence behind him, waiting to strike but he had to see Sylvain’s final moments for himself, whenever it would be beneficial for him or not.
“Hehe, sorry Fe. I broke our promise…” Sylvain said, never even hating Felix for doing such a thing. Goddess, why couldn’t Sylvain hate him?! It would make this so much easier. But when was Sylvain ever one for the easy?
“You…” The whisper of a sob played on his lips but he tried to keep his composure. No, he was a general in a war, he could not afford to show emotion for his death of enemy. He had to bask in the glory of his victory against the disappointing second son of House Gautier. He had to relish in killing his best friend. He had to.
He had to.
HE HAD TO.
Yet he couldn’t.
“Fuck you, Syl…” Anger evident in his tone but it was laced with sloppily hidden despair
Hoarse laughter that sounded more like a cough emerged from Sylvain, “Typical Fe. Never were the one for,” he stopped to gasp for air, “niceties.”
“I hate you so much,” Petra was behind him, he could feel it. Surely planning to assassinate him, but Felix couldn’t care less at the moment.
Sylvain smiled and closed his eyes. “You chose the wrong side of the war though...we’ll win…”
“i’ll prove you wrong, Syl.” Felix uttered, firmly believing in his words.
“You’re good at that…aren’t you?” Sylvain could barely breathe.
“Promise me you’ll live through the war. Even if my side wins, flee. Don’t die or my sacrifice will be in vain.” Then Sylvain laid there, breathing stopped and eyes closed.
“…Ok,” Felix hugged the body before pulling the sword from the wound. He turned to Petra about five feet away aiming an arrow at his head, ready to shoot. He composed himself once more and scowled.
“Face me like a warrior, coward.” He growled and the Brigid heir complied, taking her sword out and getting into the traditional sparring position they taught at the monastery. Consumed by rage, he charged forward, using his strongest blow and ended her life with one snipe.
The Empire soldiers recoiled in fear as Felix brandished his sword once more and could feel his battalion behind him, steeling for combat as well.
Mourning would have to come later, when the bloodshed was over and when he was back in his private quarters after the Empire’s attack on Arianrhod was deemed a failure with him still alive and too powerful to stop. He wept for the loss of his father, he wept for the loss of Ingrid and he wept for the loss of Sylvain; the man he loved whose souls with the Goddess once more.
......
For centuries to come, stories were passed down of a swordsman and a lance wielder during the Great War of Seiros vs Adrestia.
The swordsman was infamous for being ruthless and one of the Faerghus King’s best generals. They brandished their blade like it was second nature and their enemies dropped like flies.
Another tale was told about a compassionate lance wielder who seduced men and women left and right but they was also one of the rare Faerghus house heads who rebelled against the Kingdom and followed the Emperor’s conquest.
The two had a long history, sharing the majority of their lives bound together as children of great nobles. They were a force to be reckoned with and their relationship was said to be the rare and unbreakable kind, only to be bestowed unto the world once every millennia. Some myths speculate their bond might have surpassed friendship but it was never proven.
During the spilt of Fodlan, the lance user’s family turned their back against Faerghus as the sword user’s swore allegiance to the Kingdom. The pair crossed paths on opposite sides of the war, weapons in hand and ready to kill.
The lance wielder cared about the sword user too much and let the weapon pierce through his chest. The sword user was overwhelmed by fury at their life companion’s death and almost wiped out the entire Imperial army by himself. When the Empire soldiers sought to recover the body of the lance user to give him a proper burial, but the body was nowhere to be found.
Eyewitnesses report that the sword user protected the corpse during the fights and not another scratch on the body was made because of him. Decades later, archiologists found the lance user's body in the sword user’s alleged territory. The inscription on the tomb were damaged over the years so historians couldn't transcribe everything but this was what they could:
“H*re lies S**v**n J**e G**t**r, loved by all and s*meone who nev*r let h*s Cre** def*ne him”
What historians never noticed though, the body had a golden ring on its left ring finger and the word “Fraldarius” carved into it as the sword user’s had a chain around their neck, the ring having “Gautier”. That was just going to be a secret the pair had for the rest of eternity.