Chapter Text
He's different now compared to when he was just a boy. Not as weak and no longer hurt by one much older than him. He is also not so naive to let flowery speeches sway him any which way but that won't stop him from trying it on other people. Sylvain has a crest and much to his chagrin, his fathers approval.
Just thinking about the time leading up to this simultaneously frustrates and relieves him. From today, he will be with friends he's known and cherished since childhood. He will also be expected to think about his role as heir to Gautier. He rolls his shoulders to release the tension in his back as he steps out of the carriage.
The morning Sun peaks through the mountains. Squinting, he can make out the tall stone wall of the entrance, and beyond that the spiraling towers of the Monastery.
If he climbs to the top, would he see the heavens? He laughs at himself for wondering so.
They're waiting for their class leaders in the courtyard. Talking amongst themselves and getting acquainted with their new home. Ingrid makes a comment about it being too early and Felix tells her to that it isn't so bad as he yawns. Truthfully, all the traveling must have them exhausted. Sylvain on the other hand feels brisk and excuses himself to wander.
As he walks by each room, he notices how bright each of the flags are. They really do pop against the gray and green scenery. It's probably easier to spot in the dust of battle, he thinks morbidly.
Red for the Adrestian Empire, Yellow for the Leicester Alliance, and finally, he stops at the door of his class, Blue for the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.
The three colors clash too much. The blue is so saturated it makes the sky look pale. What else about blue? The ocean. Sapphires. Blueberries. The ribbon in this girl's hair. People say things like: why so blue? and then other people respond with things like: Oh no! I'm fine, really! and the person will pry while the other denies it again and then- ah. Hm. Sylvain rubs his chin. Actually, the color suits the place.
He tugs at the ribbon and her hair tumbles around her shoulder. There's so much of it, she probably takes hours to brush it all. He watches the strands bounce back up in loose curls. The young lady slaps a hand to the back of her head and spins around. A dazzling smile is already plastered across his face.
"I'm sorry, beauti-" He starts, but she doesn't let him finish and snatches the ribbon from his hands.
"Why would you do that?" The genuine confusion in her voice throws Sylvain off his balance.
His idea was to tease this girl and help tie her hair back up as he apologized but she's already doing it herself. Well, thats fine. Sylvain closes his palm and looks up at her face to find a familiar gaze.
He recognizes her blank expression and his throat feels dry. Her hair is still long and her earrings still dangle. This time she is wearing a pair of thin gold lines. He never thought he would see this girl again. Sylvain's smile falters and all he can think about is the Count's penchant for playing with fire and the Margrave's frustration.
"It isn't safe," his father had once scolded the other man. "You know very well that-"
"You shouldn't be here," the words tumble out of his mouth before he realizes he's saying them.
"I shouldn't?" She tilts her head. Her earrings sway.
He wants to shake her. Seiros, she has no idea, does she? Has her father lost his mind? Or maybe she does know? Maybe they're hiding in plain sight. But then again, maybe they're just fools. It's not uncommon for a noble family to have threats made unto them. Its not really that common for the threats play out either. Its pointless to pretend he understood their situation.
"You're not wearing a uniform," Sylvain changes the subject.
"I'm aware..." She says as she looks down at her white blouse and maroon pants. When she looks back up, she's frowning. "I know I should have come in wearing it. I haven't gone to the rooms yet, but why does that-"
"I could show you," Sylvain internally curses himself for interrupting. He's clumsy in this moment and he can't pinpoint why. Curiosity nips at him but he doesn't even know what he wants to ask. He clears his throat and smiles hopefully. "You're room, I mean. I could show you the way."
There's a strange feeling of deja vu and he feels stupid; standing out here, tugging ponytails, and starting unnecessary conversations with someone he never got to know, let alone remember her name.
She blinks in surprise. Does she ever smile? How will she hope to get along with the other students? Not that he's concerned or anything. But, people do tend to be a little judgemental of those they can't read easily. Not that he would do that... He needs to get away from her.
To his fortune, the interaction is cut short when she just shakes her head and politely tells him she'll find her own way. Sylvain should feel relieved. He should.
The Sun is setting by the time the class leaders arrive and the amount of people that crowd the gate is ridiculous.
The cause of their delay was a bandit ambush. Sylvain pushes through the swarm of students to find Dimitri none the worse for wear. The other house leaders look fine as well. Apparently, it's all thanks to a mercenary named Jeralt and his daughter.
Dimitri boasts that the woman saved their lives with her quick thinking and skill. He's eager to share details but that's not important to Sylvain right now.
"What happened to the instructor that was supposed to come with you?"
"Ah," Dimitri sighs. "He fled as soon as he realized the bandits were tracking us..."
Right. Of course. Who even cares about protecting future of Fódlan let alone teach them? Sylvain grinds his teeth in an attempt to keep his mouth shut. No one knows what the fuck their doing, huh?
He spots the mercenaries making their way into the Monastery. Among them, is a woman unlike any other he's ever seen. Dark green hair and long coat makes her look mysterious. She glances his way and he finds oh! she's pretty too. He ought to talk to her. You know. To thank her.
"How old do you think she is?"
"Does it matter?"
"I don't know. It's kind of sad to not know?"
"She doesn't seem to care."
"It's kind of strange."
"Suppose so."
"What if-"
Felix sighs and drops his utensils onto the table. "Sylvain. Stop asking me about the new professor, someone I know nothing about, and eat."
"Actually, that's strange too. She was only recently made into a professor. Is it so easy to get a job here?"
"You're chicken is getting cold."
Sylvain purses his lips and uses his fork to move the mushy greenpeas around his plate. He didn't intend to leave his meal barely eaten; he tried to stomach it but everything tasted burnt and salty. Even the potatoes couldn't be saved. Whoever had kitchen duty today needs more practice. He peels off the skin of the chicken to reveal dry meat. "How can you even enjoy this?"
"Food is strength even if it isn't good," Felix states.
"Man," Sylvain rests his chin in his hand. "You're not even a little curious, are you?"
"Nope. Talk about something else."
"Fine," he agrees.
Just then, they spot Annette walking into the dining hall and wave her over. She slides into the seat next to Felix, who frowns while her eyes shine with curiosity. "So, what do you guys think about the new professor?"
"Ugh."
By the time the Moon hangs high in the sky, most of the monastery has gone to bed. Probably resting peacefully after a long day.
Sylvain, on the other hand, feels restless. He doesn't want to be left alone with his thoughts just yet, so he lets a young lady with golden locks press him against the walls of the greenhouse. He doesn't know anything about her but he makes sure to give her vague compliments in between kisses. She runs her hands through his hair and her body is soft against his. He supposes this is nice.
Every time she hums, he has to hush her because it keeps bringing him back to reality when he'd rather not be present. After the fourth hush, she gets tired of him. He doesn't go after her.
Sylvain decides to take a stroll by the pond before heading to his dorm.
He finds that he rather likes the quiet. Compared to the ruckus of the day, the soft breeze and the hum of nature is calming. He doesn't question why. He just knows that it feels good. That's all he needs to know really.
Eventually, Sylvain makes his way back to the dormitory, heading towards the stairs, and then stopping his foot on the first step. He hears a voice. Two voices.
At first, he's just curious about the source of the soft, happy murmers. But then there's the sound of wonderous laughter, and now he must know who it belongs to. He heads up and turns the corner too quickly, the sight almost causing him to trip.
He sees her again, even though he's tried to avoid her. She's in uniform this time. A loose white top and black skirt like most other students. But instead of a coat, she has a wine red scarf thrown over her shoulders.
"Amara! You can't say things like that!" A girl gasps.
Amara. Her name was Amara.
"And why not, Marianne?" Amara's voice twinkles with delight. So she can smile. Get along with others too.
She's about to laugh again but freezes up when she glances up at his disheveled appearance. He smiles politely as he moves past them and heads straight to his room.
Once inside, he shucks off his shoes and runs a hand through his hair. Of course, he'd run into her again, she's a student too. He unbuttons his shirt and tosses it into a basket, replacing his uniform clothes with looser ones. Amara. Amara Kent. He paces his room for a few moments and then starts organizing his desk. House Kent. He stacks his schedule on top of his textbooks. Now that he can't help but think, Sylvain could have sworn he heard his own father mention that the Count would never send another child to the Monastery after his eldest son. He pulls back the covers on his bed. So why did the Count send his daughter?
It doesn't matter, he tells himself. Who cares?
It all just feels like a bad omen. Even the House leaders were attacked before they even arrived.
As he lays down, Sylvain so desperately wants to relax and fall asleep. He can't.