Chapter Text
“Okay,” Sylvain says around a yawn the next morning. “Do you have any experience with swords?”
“I have lots of experience with swords,” Felix says peevishly. “I just don’t know how to fight with them, because now people just blow each other up from thousands of kilometres away.” He takes the sword from Sylvain’s hand and holds it; it’s a dull training sword, nothing exciting. Sylvain yawns again just as Ingrid comes bustling into the training grounds.
“Not like you to be late,” Sylvain says. Ingrid swipes her hair out of her face.
“Sorry. I was eating breakfast.”
Sylvain smiles fondly. “I doubt there’s any universe out there where you skip breakfast.”
Ingrid doesn’t seem to recognize the dumb smile that Sylvain has on his face (one Felix has seen many a time before), because she bristles at his words, misinterpreting them as some kind of teasing. “Breakfast is the—”
“Most important meal of the day,” Felix finishes for her. Sylvain cackles. “You’re not very different from my Ingrid.”
She frowns at him. “Well, it’s true.” She walks to the weapons rack and picks up a sword. “What has Sylvain taught you so far?”
“He handed me the sword,” Felix says. Sylvain yawns again. Ingrid pinches the bridge of her nose.
“He doesn’t know anything about swords,” Sylvain says.
“I know tons about swords!” Felix fires back, offended. “I just don’t know how to fight with them.”
“That’s okay,” Ingrid says. “We’ll start from the beginning. Sylvain and I don’t normally use swords anyway, we’re not going to be teaching you anything overly complicated.”
“Why the hell are you two helping me if you don’t know how to use a sword?”
“She didn’t say we don’t know how to use a sword,” Sylvain says. “She said we don’t normally use them. Swords are the first weapon you get trained on in Faerghus. We’ve known how to fight with one since we were five.”
Felix stares at him. In high school Annette had written an essay about medieval Fhaergan attitudes and the over glorification of war, and Felix had read it because she had looked at him with that stupid expression he couldn’t say no to, but also because it was a really good essay. It had won awards; Felix hadn’t even known they gave out awards for essays. Anyway, the point was Felix had a pretty good idea of how screwed up Faerghus culture had been in this time, but it was a totally different thing to see a man with the face of his best friend telling him he’d been taught to fight since he was five.
He thinks about the Glenn and Rodrigue in this world. Dimitri had said his father had sacrificed himself to save Dimitri. Felix can’t imagine carrying that weight on his shoulders. Dimitri was a king here. His Dimitri was descended from the Blaiddyd’s that had held the throne, but the monarchy had been dissolved centuries ago. But in this world— in this world Dimitri was a king, fighting a war against his sister, and people were dying for him.
He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go home.
“So who’s the best sword fighter here?” He asks, wanting to shut down his mind and stop thinking about what’s going on. “Shouldn’t they be teaching me?”
“Might be difficult,” Sylvain says. “Given that it’s you.”
“Actually, on that note,” Ingrid says, looking a little concerned. “If anybody comes up to you and asks to fight, say no. People like to challenge Felix. He also likes to challenge people. Just scoff and ignore them.”
“I think I can manage that,” Felix says dryly.
Sylvain yawns again, winking at Ingrid when she looks at him disapprovingly. “Sorry. Late night.”
Ingrid sighs heavily. Felix watches all of this with interest.
“Can we just get started, please,” Ingrid says. “I don’t need to hear about whatever girl you terrorized last night, Sylvain.”
“Huh,” Felix says. “So you two aren’t together.”
Honestly, completely worth it for the looks they both give him. Ingrid’s eyes widen and she begins to stutter her objections, but Sylvain, rather tellingly, averts his eyes and stays quiet.
Felix clicks his tongue. So the idiot couldn’t be honest in this universe, either.
“Look,” Ingrid finally says firmly, glaring at him as if it was his fault that the two of them were dating in his universe. “We don’t have time for this. We’re marching on Enbarr in two days. We need to teach you how to use a sword. We’re going to run through some very basic exercises, defensive only. It’s highly unlikely you’ll ever need to use them, but again, better to be safe than sorry. Let’s go.”
Felix huffs. “Bossy,” he complains.
“Bossy and holding a sword,” Ingrid snaps back. “Don’t test me.”
Worry is seeped in her tone, and Felix realizes that he’s being an ass, that their Felix is missing and they’re worried. He shuts his mouth and lifts his sword up a little.
“Okay,” he says. “What do I do?”
Felix is in shape, but by the end of their training he’s aching, having used muscles he’s never really used before in ways he’s never done. His arm is throbbing, and he digs his fingers into the muscle of his bicep and rubs at it. The Felix from this world must be ripped as shit.
“I think that’s good for now,” Ingrid says, wiping away the sweat from her forehead with her arm. “You have a fairly solid grasp on sword fighting for someone who’s never done it before.”
“I told you I knew a lot about swords,” he says grumpily. “Just because I’ve never fucking stabbed anyone doesn’t mean I’m clueless.”
Sylvain yawns again and then says, “I’m surprised your Crest didn’t activate. Felix’s usually starts going wild as soon as he gets a sword in his hands.”
Felix frowns. “I don’t have a Crest,” he says. “Or— well, I did, I guess, when I was born. They’re really rare now, and they get removed when you’re born even if you do have one.” He’s still rubbing at his arm; he looks down and rolls his wrist, and when he looks back up Sylvain is staring at him with his mouth open, and Ingrid is watching Sylvain with worry.
“You can remove Crests in your universe?” Sylvain asks. Felix has no idea what is going on, but he can recognize the look on Sylvain’s face, even if he doesn’t know why it’s there. Ingrid chews her lip, watching Sylvain like a hawk.
“Uh, yeah,” Felix says hesitantly, no longer certain if this is something they should be talking about. “For like… I don’t know, equality or something?” Annette’s essay had also delved into the Crest system; he couldn’t remember much, since it was more than five years ago since he’d read it and he can’t exactly fucking text her and ask, but he remembers thinking as he read it, this is fucked up. I’m glad I don’t have that anymore. “There was a big, like, Crest reform a few centuries ago — in my world it was, at least— and now they’re pretty much gone.” There were a few anomalies, of course; people never stopped wanting power, and there’d been the occasional time in history when someone had given birth secretly to try and keep their child’s Crest, presumably for world domination or some shit, but those rebellions had all been squashed.
He looks between Sylvain and Ingrid. Ingrid looks pensive while still keeping an eye on Sylvain, because Sylvain looks horrible. Sylvain looks like Felix had just told him he’d run over his cat. Grief is etched in the lines of his face, and Felix has no fucking idea why.
“Are you—”
He doesn’t get to ask if Sylvain is okay (which is probably best, because he clearly fucking isn’t), because he abruptly spins on his heel and all but runs out of the training grounds. Felix and Ingrid watch him go.
“What was that about?”
Ingrid sighs and grabs the sword out of Felix’s hand, returning it to the weapons rack. “In our world, Crests are… a big deal.” She turns back to Felix, eyebrows pinched. “People arrange marriages for Crests, adopt children for Crests, use them as currency as if they weren’t attached to a human.” Ingrid’s voice is beyond bitter. “Sylvain and I, we both have minor Crests, and they’ve ruined our lives. Felix has a major Crest, which is even rarer.” She looks away suddenly. “When I was born, and they found out I had a Crest, I was almost immediately betrothed to Glenn.”
It takes Felix a second to absorb this information. “Glenn as in… my brother?”
Ingrid nods. Felix barely resists snorting, because he knows this isn’t the time and this is clearly a big issue these people have, but the idea of Ingrid and Glenn is absolutely ridiculous to him.
“When he died…” Her voice shakes. “Within a couple of days, my father was already writing letters to different suitors to try and find me another marriage prospect. I was thirteen.”
Felix swallows. Suddenly this isn’t remotely funny anymore.
“And I’m lucky,” Ingrid says fiercely. “Because my parents have always made it clear that they love me for more than my Crest, and I know that if it weren’t for Galatea’s financial situation…” she shakes her head. “But Sylvain… In your world, what is Miklan like?”
Felix blinks, thrown off guard. He doesn’t know the last time he thought of that fucking imbecile. “Stupid,” he says. “Ugly. A complete waste of space. In jail.”
“For what?”
Felix rolls his eyes. “Armed robbery, the moron. Left his fucking fingerprints all over the scene.”
“And him and Sylvain…”
“They don’t talk. They’ve never been close.”
“Did Miklan ever hurt him?”
Felix swallows. “Occasionally. Nothing… severe. A few fistfights when they were younger and a shit ton of emotional damage, but never anything—”
“In our world,” Ingrid says, cutting him off. “Sylvain was born with a Crest, and Miklan was not. Miklan was removed as Gautier heir in favour of the second son, and from that moment on Miklan not only hated Sylvain but made it his goal to hurt him. He once pushed Sylvain down a well and left him there to die.”
“What the fuck,” Felix mutters.
Ingrid looks towards the door that Sylvain had left through. “If we are… together in your world,” she says, and he can’t quite read what emotion it is in her voice, “Then that is only possible because it’s a world where he hasn’t been told since the day he was born that the only thing he’s good for is his Crest.”
Felix clenches his fists. He wants to go home.
“What happened to Miklan here?” He asks. Ingrid looks back at him.
“He became the leader of a gang of bandits. When we attended Garreg Mach five years ago, we had a run-in with them, and Sylvain killed him.”
Felix pushes his palms into his eyes. “What kind of fucked up world are you people living in?”
“One we’re fighting to change,” Ingrid says fiercely. Then she sighs. “I’m going to go check on him,” she says softly, and there’s definitely something in her tone. “Remember what His Majesty said. Only talk to members of our class. We don’t want anyone to know our Felix is missing.”
It takes Felix a moment to place who she means by His Majesty. “Why don’t you just say Dimitri?” He asks. “He’s not even here.”
Ingrid blanches. “He may be my friend, but above all he is my King. It would be inappropriate not to use his proper title.”
Everyone in this fucking universe must be so fucking lonely.
“Go get Sylvain,” he says. “I’m fine.”
Ingrid looks at him for another moment before she finally nods and leaves.
Felix heads to the dining hall after, starving from the amount of working out he’d been doing. He hadn’t been thrilled with the breakfast options, and he’s even less thrilled with the lunch menu. He gets some stupid fish dish and sits down at one of the tables, set apart from everyone else. Now that he’s wearing more “normal” clothes, including the world’s most impractical boots, people are largely ignoring him, which he appreciates. He’s hoping that Dimitri will show up, but by the time he’s finished eating he hasn’t, so Felix decides to go look for him, instead.
He heads outside from the dining hall and looks around; he heads down the steps and goes to poke his head in the greenhouse, where sure enough he sees Dedue in the back corner, doing whatever it is you need to do with plants.
“Dedue,” he says. “Where can I find Dimitri?”
Dedue glances up and then stands, brushing off the dirt on his — uh, armour. Fucking weird. Surely walking around like that all day was exhausting. It was summer.
“Felix,” he greets. “His Majesty is likely in the council room.” Felix nods and turns to leave, never one to linger for conversation, but Dedue calls his name again. “While I don’t discourage you from seeking out His Majesty, I would like to remind you that in this world, he is a king, and is deserving of the appropriate respect and deference.”
“Aren’t all of you just a barrel of fucking laughs,” he says sourly, turning away without another word and heading upstairs. He finds Dimitri exactly where Dedue had said he’d be, hunched over a map. There’s no one else in the room, and Felix makes sure he closes the door behind him.
“Dimitri,” he says, and watches as he jumps, looking up at Felix in surprise.
“Ah, Felix,” he says. “Forgive me. I was lost in thought.”
Felix studies him; his cheeks are a little sunken, bags thick under his eye, and the edges of his eyepatch are frayed. His gloves are off and set off to the side, and there’s a plate of food beside him that looks untouched. Felix nods at it.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
Dimitri looks at the plate guiltily. “Dedue brought that an hour or so ago,” he says. “I meant to eat, truly. I lost track of time.” He frowns down at the map, and Felix can already see the food leaving his mind as he focuses on whatever it is he’s worrying about. Felix sighs and walks forward, hopping up on the table and sitting on the map, blocking it from Dimitri’s view. Dimitri looks at him in shock.
Felix nods at the food again. “Eat and I’ll get my ass off your map. I don’t know a lot about fighting a war, but I’m pretty sure it’s easier when you eat properly.” Dimitri continues to stare at him in shock. Felix rolls his eyes. “Sorry, I know you’re a king, or whatever.” He leans over to grab the plate of food, placing it in front of Dimitri. “Eat your fucking lunch, Your Majesty.” He says this in a hoity-toity tone.
And Dimitri— Dimitri laughs. It’s the first sign of happiness Felix has seen from him since he got here. Felix feels his heart lift at the sound.
“I’m sorry, Felix,” he says. “I don’t mean to laugh. I’ve just never heard your voice like that.” He shakes his head, smiling softly as he— dutifully— begins to eat. Felix watches him closely, observes the lines on his face and the hunch of his shoulders. It’s the weirdest fucking thing; Felix can read Dimitri like the back of his hand, knows every part of him like he knows himself, but looking at this Dimitri here feels like… it feels like he’s looking at a book in a language that he understands, but he still can’t read it anyway.
He watches Dimitri eat. He thinks about Ingrid and Dedue and their insistence on respect and titles. Everything in this universe was different but still so similar. So maybe he was a king here, but he was still Dimitri underneath that.
“How was your training with Sylvain and Ingrid?” Dimitri asks between bites. Felix blows out a breath.
“I mentioned that Crests are removed when you’re born in my world and Sylvain… it didn’t exactly go over well,” he says flatly. Dimitri winces.
“Yes, I can see why that would upset him,” Dimitri says. He wipes his mouth with his hand, then he pauses and grabs the napkin, instead. Felix snorts at this.
“Dimitri,” he says, wanting to ask about— well, fifty thousand things, really, but he’s distracted from that when he sees the very minute little jerk Dimitri does.
“Why do you do that every time I say your name?”
“Ah,” Dimitri says, a little self-consciously. “My Felix and I… we haven’t exactly been on the best of terms. And the way you say my name is…” he coughs. “It’s… well, I haven’t heard Felix say my name like that since we were children.”
He sounds… sad. Felix watches as he closes his eye and takes a breath, and then he straightens up and gives Felix a perfectly political smile.
“Apologies,” he says. “Thank you for encouraging me to eat. Sometimes I get so lost in my own head.” He looks at Felix expectantly, and he reluctantly moves off of Dimitri’s big map. Dimitri’s eyebrows immediately furrow as he looks down at the map again. Felix doesn’t know what he could possibly be looking for.
“What happened between you and the Felix of this world?” He asks. He watches with interest as Dimitri’s hands clench, and he takes another steadying breath.
“Felix. I understand that this is tough for you. But in two days… in two days is probably the biggest crossroads of my life, and I have been at many. The future of literally everything is hanging in the balance and Felix and I— I really don’t want to relive it.”
“Do you not have a plan yet?”
Dimitri looks confused. “Of course we do.”
“And does your plan involve staring at a map for the next two days?”
Dimitri opens his mouth and then closes it.
“I talked to Ingrid,” Felix says, hopping back up on the table. “And then I talked to Dedue. And then I came up here to see you having a staring contest with a map. And I know I’ve only been in this weird universe for about 24 hours, but I’ve come to the conclusion that everyone here is really fucking sad and depressing and you are not taking care of yourself. And maybe you're not my Dimitri, but you're still Dimitri, and you look like shit." Dimitri gawks at him. Felix isn't done. "I'll leave you alone to stare at your stupid map, but only if you promise to come eat dinner with me tonight."
There is something… unreadable in Dimitri’s eye. It's unnerving, not to know what he's thinking, what he wants. Then he smiles slightly, the barest tilt of his lips. "All right, Felix. That sounds like a fair deal."
"Good," Felix says gruffly, standing up again. "Meet me at the dining hall at—" then he stops. "Wait, how the fuck do you people tell time here? And if you say the sun I'm gonna lose it."
"Well, it's not just the sun. We also use candles," Dimitri says, which is not nearly as reassuring as he seems to think it is. "How do you tell time?"
"I connect to the internet and it tells me."
Dimitri's brow furrows. "What is the internet?"
That is so not a conversation Felix wants to get into. "It's not important," he says. "Just, meet me at six, I guess." He can probably ask somebody what time it is, or maybe they have a fucking sundial somewhere.
The past was a nightmare.
Dimitri keeps looking at him with the same kind of expression he’d seen on Sylvain’s face earlier; a little like grief. “Okay,” he says. “I will see you at dinner.”
Felix doesn’t want to leave, but he’ll keep his word. He leaves the council room and goes to find some way to pass the time until dinner.