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A missing manuscript hurriedly dropped in the library and the curious eyes that found it were going to change Bernadetta’s life forever. She kept to herself, of course, but her soul found ways to burst from the confines of her room in paintings, sewing, writing, and anything she could think of to create in her own corner of the world. Without such outlets, she wouldn’t be able to live. Not only was it a story from the heart, a sort of diary and heroic fantasy that kept her breathing day to day, but it revealed a little too much…
-~-
There was something about ink on paper that brought forth something deeper than spoken words. They couldn’t be retracted. They were stated, simple and true for the eyes to read over and over.
Sylvain was engrossed in the papers in his hands the way Ashe or Felix as a child might’ve been, staying up late with a burning candle precariously propped up to shed light on the pages. What he was reading was unfinished and handwritten with proofread marks and scribbles in the margins, yet it still touched him and made his heart pound.
Even more so, knowing the author.
A girl coming to terms with growing up in a world not too different from his own. A girl fighting inner demons and real ones, a girl stumbling through life without real parents to guide her, a girl understanding what it means to be a girl, a girl who, well… was outright harmed by family sometimes. That was a feeling he knew. It was a raw thing to write. It was unfiltered and genuine against a dramatic backdrop of knights and magic. The plot was exciting, yet the emotional substance of the story was what caught his attention, what drove him to take out paper of his own and tell her how he felt…
-~-
Was it possible for something to be a painful blessing? A relief, a balm- yet a curse. It was as if one of Bernadetta’s dearest wishes had come true, and yet not. Bernadetta held the letter tightly in her fingertips, reading it over and over again.
"Dear Author, I read your manuscript quite by accident and duly apologize. However, I also write today to inform you that I enjoyed your story tremendously. I laughed and cried as the heroine overcame her many obstacles, growing stronger with each step. Your literary style presents a unique perspective. I could sense you watching over the protagonist. The girl's failures are as compelling as her triumphs. Since authors are told to write what they know... I believe your tale would not have been so convincing were it not for your own experiences."
If only he knew. Well, he did know, that was the problem. Bernadetta shook her head and buried her face in her hands, laying the letter down on her bed, unable to throw it away while already knowing the closing lines.
"I do hope my letter inspires you to keep writing. Looking forward to the next chapter. Your devoted fan, Sylvain."
She had fled from Sylvain, but couldn’t change how what he’d said that had worked its way into her heart. She couldn’t bear it, having her secret out. And yet… it was nice.
Someone could understand.
Well, if she let him.
Bernadetta threw herself into her nest of pillows and blankets. “No! He’ll have to try harder than that! Someone just can’t be my friend after knowing everything about me and being nice to me!” It just didn’t fit with the rest of her lived experience.
Little did she know, he wasn’t about to give up.
-~-
“Professor!” Sylvain approached Byleth in the Black Eagles classroom with an easygoing smile, his hands behind his head, as though feigning a yawn. Many associated that expression on his face with trouble, but Byleth only gave her neutral stare.
“Yes?”
“I’d like to transfer to your class.” Sylvain now had the attention of every student in the classroom, including Bernadetta. His face didn’t betray anything. “Sure it’s halfway through the year and all, but your charm finally won me over! So, what do you say?”
Byleth glanced over at Edelgard, who glanced over at Hubert. The moment hung heavy in the air. Hubert closed his eyes slowly and sighed, but nodded with resignation. Byleth returned to Sylvain. “Yes.”
Edelgard stood by Byleth’s side. “Of course we will gladly recruit any student who wishes to study with us. Welcome to the Black Eagles.”
Bernadetta made wide eyed contact with Sylvain and suddenly squeaked, grabbing all of her books and bolting out the door. A few students looked after her with some sympathy, and Dorothea stepped forward and pointed at Sylvain. “You best not scare her, you hear?”
Sylvain held his hands up pleadingly. “Woah there, I promise! I’ll be a model student and perfect gentleman. My intentions towards any lovely lady are pure as snow.” And, despite the reflexive way he honey coated his words, it was true. It wasn’t Byleth’s charm, Dorothea’s voice, Edelgard’s regality, or anything but a soft spot for Bernadetta that had caused him to transfer. Perhaps nothing would come of it, but he couldn’t help wanting to know her more.
It happened within a week.
-~-
It must’ve been close to midnight. Sylvain stirred awake to the sound of rustling papers being shoved under his door. The edges crinkled and caught on the blue rug before footsteps scrambled away. He smiled to himself and picked up the small stack, instantly recognizing Bernadetta’s handwriting.
“A new chapter, huh?” He lit a couple candles on his desk, pushing aside a few papers, and leaned down to read. It started off much like her last few chapters, but a new character was soon introduced. He was a tall and gangly redhead, with a flirtatious smile, a silver tongue, and- bad intentions? Blackmail gathering?
Sylvain shook his head and pulled out a piece of parchment of his own. He squinted in the low light and wrote the first of what would become a series of letters between the two:
Dearest Bernadetta,
I cannot believe I have found a fault in your work! It breaks my heart to say it, but I must object to the portrayal of your latest supporting cast member! You have him all wrong- he’s friendly and kind, not someone to use the protagonist’s secrets against her. Give my second favorite character a chance!
-Your Biggest Fan, Sylvain
He mirrored her method of delivery, slipping it under her door when no one was looking. There was a reply the next night. Sylvain could almost hear her physical voice through it.
Listen here, mister! You leave me no choice, if anyone else knows my father calls me a son, it’s over! How could you act like it isn’t a big deal?!
It was scribbled, obviously in distress. Sylvain wished he could simply talk to her face to face, but this was the last thing he wanted to shout about through a door. He tried another letter, hoping his tone was soothing through ink.
This dashing gentleman has no motive to do such a thing, does he? That’s an important part of character development- and how people act in general. Think about it, alright?
-Sylvain
The next response took a couple days.
Maybe! But what motive does he have to be kind? He doesn’t know her.
Sylvain read it and shook his head with a sigh. What had happened to her, that her trust was so low? Granted… he understood it. He had his own fair share of distrust, swerving away from girls who wanted him for his Crest, feeling like everything about him came back to his Crest, putting on a smile while taking a step away. This was different, though. Noble or not, Crests were the farthest thing from her mind, apparently.
In fact, he was pushing a little. Just for friendship of course, but he had to prove himself. He didn’t want to lose this rare type of connection that wasn’t muddled with politics.
Dearest Bernadetta,
Perhaps he has a story of his own. A story where his family sees him as a Crest, and not a son. A story where he’s a little scared of girls because all they seem to see is a Crest too, so he doesn’t think he can get close to anyone. A story where he knows he can be a rascal, but deep down, he could use a friend.
I understand your caution, and I won’t write you again if you don’t want me to. People don’t have to have a motive for being kind beyond simply being kind, is all.
From a Respectful Distance, Sylvain
Sylvain had always mingled between Houses at lunch, and it hadn’t changed with his transfer. He sat beside Felix as he ignored him in the most friendly way possible, like a cat that purposefully sat beside you and pretended it hadn’t initiated the contact and would not stand to be pet. The thought made him smile as he ate. Always the same old Felix these last few years.
The true surprise was when Bernadetta approached both of them, sliding a plate onto the table as her eyes darted around the perimeter. Sylvain nervously looked toward Felix, knowing neither of his tablemates were usually one for conversation.
“Great weather we’re having, right?” Sylvain ventured.
Felix blinked at Bernadetta- and smiled? Or, at least something like that. “Ah. Bernadetta. You still need to show me that disarming trick.”
Bernadetta nodded mutely, stalling for time with a bite of food. Sylvain’s shoulders sagged with relief- they knew each other. Maybe the two quieter ones could bond in a way he couldn’t fathom. He wasn’t prepared for her reply. “I told you I don’t know how it works either! I panic for three seconds and I win, okay?”
“I’m incapable of losing my cool because I’m incapable of losing. We have to figure out how it works,” insisted Felix.
“I know I have a disarming smile,” chimed in Sylvain. He turned to Felix, grinning while Felix scowled- it was just hard to tell because it was too close to his usual expression.
“Sylvain, that doesn’t help on the battlefield.”
“You don’t feel inspired when I’m at your side?”
“Oh shut up- look at a girl like that and she’ll try to swing at you harder!”
“You always said you liked challenges!”
Bernadetta hid her mouth behind her hand and laughed softly, as though she wasn’t sure she was allowed to. Felix nudged Sylvain with his leg, turning his face away from Sylvain so fast his hair whipped into his eyes as he shoved a bite of food in his mouth. “Hmph. Tell this idiot I’m trying to save his life, huh?” His tone was light despite his heavy words; it was clear he didn’t say things he didn’t mean.
Bernadetta took a breath, glancing between the two. It was time to be brave, to venture out into something she’d never tried before. “I- I will if I can sit with you sometimes!” For a moment, nothing happened and she froze, hand over her heart.
Felix stared. “Why wouldn’t you? You’re doing it now.”
“What he means is we’re delighted by your company,” translated Sylvain. He simmered down to a friendly smile in her direction. Bernadetta relaxed, nodding and immediately turning back to her plate. It was nothing to most people. She knew it- but one step for her, one place outside her room where she could breathe a little freer- that’s what mattered.
Felix initiated conversation for once. “I might transfer to the Eagles myself.” He glanced over at Byleth, who was eating with Hubert and Edelgard. “Your professor has a way with her blade.”
“You’re always thinking with your sword.” Sylvain stifled a chuckle as Felix half heartedly tried to kick him under the table. “Hey, c’mon!”
“Any second now you’ll whip out a Lance of Ruin joke-”
“ ‘Whip it out?’ Right in front of her salad?”
Bernadetta swore she could see a ghost of a smile on Felix’s face as he shook his head. Did she make two friends in one day? Had they been her friends already? She wasn’t sure what to think. She only ever felt comfortable around Alois before. Perhaps she would be okay outside her room with other friends around. Sylvain was willing to get to know her and open up to her too- maybe she didn’t have to be alone forever like she’d thought.
The change was subtle but constant in her life, as she let other Black Eagles students get closer little by little- Hubert and Edelgard being the exceptions she still ran from or blacked out from fear at. What, they were scary! Hubert should be able to smile and laugh all he likes, but it still made her freeze. She wanted him to be happy, but just maybe not around her! She couldn’t remember hardly any of her interactions with Edelgard, only that Bernadetta never wanted to make her upset.
She was more courageous as the weeks drifted by, especially when Sylvain was around. Someone who knew the deepest secret she had and yet he stayed. His character deserved a little rewriting in her story, so rewrite it she did.
Sylvain,
I took your constructive criticism to heart. You’re right that it was a literary error to have a character behave in such a way without any motive to be so malicious. It’s a real life error too, I know, to be so hesitant to even trust my friends. Honestly, it’s hard to call anyone a friend. Is it okay?! I still don’t even know.
It’s an honor that you like my story, but I am saddened that you relate so much. Right now, I don’t know how to end it, what might be a realistic but good conclusions. Do you have any suggestions?
-Bernie
Sylvain wrote back within a day.
Dear Bernie,
I’m so pleased I could offer such an insight for you. This supporting protagonist’s role is fantastic, but is there a reason I should know for the leading lady is jealous when he flirts with other girls? :P
Why not a happy ending? Those stories are the best.
With Love, Sylvain
Bernadetta was well used to their correspondence, even though they talked often face to face, but her writing was always kept just between the two of them. She laughed and smiled as she wrote, thoroughly enjoying her new pen pal. She had to sober up as she replied to his letter though, sighing. All the things they said but never aloud, danced around but never fully addressed.
Sylvainnnnnnnnn,
She isn’t jealous! How could she be, with that dashing swordsman around to capture her attention, hm? Besides… he doesn’t see her that way. He likes any other girl. She’s too smart to get into an unrequited relationship!
I don’t know if happy endings are real for someone like her. Like me.
Love, the best writer you know
She could admit her talent and play along, but something seemed to be wrong. Sylvain’s reply took a few days, making her anxiety skyrocket again when she was around him. Had she finally been too direct, was he scared off at last, was it all one big ruse and deep down he’d always hated her and now had the excuse to break off their friendship?!
However, despite her worries, the next note had been written with care.
My Dearest, Bernie
That handsome fellow with the quick wit and quicker blade is competition? Please, the redhead could win her over any time, every day, over and over if he was given the chance. He’s interested for sure, but has to be there for her for anything else she needs. He’s a scoundrel but only on the surface. If he thought she saw him that way, well, he’d be quite the charmer.
Those tales of nobles and princes wooing ladies with poetry? Nothing, compared to what he can offer. Moonlit walks in gardens and kissing in front of sunsets are just the beginning. He’s been searching for someone special, someone who doesn’t care about his status. He wants someone who cares about him, as a person. Someday, if he can find that, he’d settle down. There are so many people he’s met and yes, not stuck with for more than a week, but it would only take one special love to matter.
Isn’t that what we all wish, to matter to someone? Behind all the games, unanswered questions, half truths to those we don’t trust- deep down I wish I could stop acting like that and just feel happiness. Bernie… I’m not proud of how I act. I’m not proud of myself. I don’t like myself, and I’m sorry too that you could relate but you’re different. You’re a nice, sweet person. My ugliness has been on display for everyone to see if they wanted. My self hatred is earned, but yours isn’t.
If there’s someone who has doubts in finding that happily ever after, it’s me. If I could impart anything to you, it’s to wish you’d believe in that future for yourself.
Bernadetta stared at the note in her hands, holding back tears. It didn’t seem right or fair. The one person she could get this close to was harboring all of this in his heart against himself? She was touched by the romantic inclination of his words, but even more than that was bothered by the rest.
Sylvie,
You’ve been nothing but kind to me! You’ve been my friend, showed me how to make others, welcomed me into your life as a classmate, someone who already matters to me! I won’t stand for you to say such things about yourself, I simply won’t!
I have my own thoughts that eat me alive. I struggle with it every day, but you can’t view yourself like that! I haven’t paid very much attention to the rumors, you know. Maybe you’ve made mistakes. I know you feel guilty. If you woke up tomorrow and decided to be a better man, I think you would find joy.
What if I wanted to, and have wanted to for a long time now, give you a chance?
Bernadetta couldn’t have known it would be the last note she could pass before they were separated for five years. The Battle of Garreg Mach tore the monastery apart the next day.
Neither got to say goodbye.
-~-
The scramble to reclaim the town of Garreg Mach was no suitable time for a reunion.
Nor the meetings after.
Finally, finally , there was time to breathe.
Bernadetta had never taken the time to appreciate the true beauty of Garreg Mach before. It had mostly been furtive glances as she sprinted from bedroom to dining hall to classroom like a prey animal seeking shelter. Even when she branched out and made friends with Felix and Sylvain, her eyes were almost always drawn to the ground- Caspar’s antics to carry her away into the sunset notwithstanding. Maybe thinking of Felix and Sylvain as her only friends did the rest of the house a disservice.
The Black Eagles had all reached out to her over the course of the year. The breaths she drew now were freer, happier knowing she had friends around. She smiled, sitting in the greenhouse as she gazed at all the plants she loved. Not many knew she was fond of the flytraps along with the rest of the simply delicate and pretty flowers. She thought it was clever, being a plant that fought back. She’d learned to fight back too.
“I confess I checked your room first…” Bernadetta brightened, turning around as the person she was hoping most to see entered the greenhouse, swaggering in with a sparkle in his eye. “...but you’ve changed, Bernie.” Was that pride in his voice? It wasn’t something she heard often from anyone, and it made her beam with joy, squirming in her seat on the stone edge of one of the garden sections.
“You seem exactly the same.” He’d matured, but that was Sylvain alright under the armor.
There was a moment where the two only stared, and then Bernadetta was flying into his arms, laughing as she hugged her tight. Sylvain even lifted her off the ground, spinning her in his strong arms. He set her down but didn’t let go, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. “Can we talk?”
Oh.
That.
What if he hated her? What if he rejected her and having to wait five years made it all the worse? Wh- no, no he’d just held her like he was so happy to see her he’d burst. She fought back the inward directed spiraling, venomous thoughts. She nodded. “Okay.”
“Ha, don’t look so serious.” Sylvain smiled, warm and reassuring as she’d always found it. “It’s just determining the rest of our lives.”
“But it IS serious!” Bernadetta waved her arms. “I remember what I wrote you! I was stupid, I’m not like other girls and you can’t be with me! And- and now all this time later you must be anxious to dump me and you could never be serious about liking me so-“
“Bernadetta, I’ll show you serious.”
Sylvain dropped down to one knee.
She cut herself off, but her mouth was still open.
“Bernadetta, you’re right. You aren’t like other girls, and you aren’t like them because everything I ever said to you was true.” Sylvain took her hand, half of him relishing the shock on her face, the other half balancing the nerves that threatened to make his chest seize up. “You never treated me like I was just a Crest with a face. You just saw me as me. You didn’t try to charm me or mess around, but you were just a friend. You’re a friend who I’ve gotten to know and care deeply for, and while I am sorry that I found your story by accident without permission all those years ago, I cannot apologize for reading it. I cannot apologize for getting to know someone so wonderful and brave, and wishing she would let others in too. I cannot apologize for being happy when I’m with you and for wanting you all these years. If anyone could make me a better person, you could. You read all that about me… and you didn’t throw me away like I had done.” He laughed softly. “You aren’t like other girls, and because of that I’d drop everything to be with you.
“Bernadetta von Varley, would you marry me?”
For five years, she’d wondered what their reunion might be. She’d wondered if Sylvain would really want to make her fall for him again and again like he’d said and dreamed of being loved- and even more than that, accepted. It still seemed like a dream to have him in front of her on one knee.
She could brainstorm a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t or couldn’t want her.
But he did.
Bernadetta’s restraint broke and she practically leapt into his arms, fingers tangling in Sylvain’s hair as she kissed him like she would die without him. Sylvain’s mouth quirked upwards against hers, responding in kind. They embraced, hands grasping for what was no longer just a dream as every beat of their hearts and brush of lips and tongue solidified like a mantra, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’
“Yes!” Bernadetta said aloud, barely pulling back. Their foreheads rested together and Sylvain ruffled her hair, grinning as he held her tight like he never wanted to let her go. Bernadetta blinked, realizing her eyes were moist. “Y-you’re sure?” she whispered.
“Of course.”
She swallowed. They were both Crest bearing nobles. “We can’t- have kids. Pass on our Crests. I’ll leave my father’s house but won’t the Gautiers-?”
“None of that is anyone’s business but our own.” The fierce, soft determination in his voice made her hold back a genuine sob of joy and she squeezed him tight, face buried in his hair.
They were wound tight together as the greenhouse door creaked open and a signature sigh recognizable five years later reached their ears. “Get a room.”
“Felix!” Sylvain stood up and laughed. He bent low and swooped Bernadetta into his arms bridal style. She yelped and clung to him with her arms around his shoulders and neck, cheek resting against him. “We’re engaged!”
Felix blinked and the expression of shock was one Bernadetta saved in her mind forever. “Alright.” There was a moment of silence. Bernadetta’s heartbeat quickened with worry- was Felix jealous? Angry? Felix suddenly drew his sword and Bernadetta shrieked as he leveled it at them. “Sylvain, do you swear to take care of her?”
“Unconventional way to rehearse wedding vows, isn’t it? You’ll be the best man, not the Seteth!” Sylvain set her down so he could put his hands up and laughed. “Yes, yes of course!”
Felix narrowed his eyes, extending the sword by a couple inches. “And do you promise to take care of YOURSELF, Sylvain?”
Bernadetta angled her head up to watch surprise register on Sylvain’s face and then melt into something more serious. He still winked, though. “Between your sword and Bernadetta’s intimidating presence, I fear I must swear to that as well.”
“Hey!” Bernadetta playfully patted Sylvain’s chest a little hard, giggling. “I’m not intimidating!”
“I dunno, Hubert might have been an influence on you all these years considering you’re so brave now.” Sylvain straightened and flung his hair into his face, covering one eye with messy curls, voice playfully deep, “Sylvain, you insolent scoundrel, if you so much as pester or flirt with one hair on Lady Edelgard’s head…”
“Hubert isn’t that scary anymore!”
“Oh really?” Sylvain smirked. “I’ll hide behind you when we see him then!”
“EEP!” Bernadetta reflexively covered her mouth even as Felix rolled his eyes and fought a smile at the two of them. “Oh but I WOULD say that now, husband!” Bernadetta squeaked with joy and hugged Sylvain again. “Husband, how amazing! Ooooh I get to bake a wedding cake too!”
“Of course!”
Felix was already leaving the conversation. He sheathed his sword and made as if to leave as Sylvain skipped towards him. “Hey Felix! You mind if we maybe switch rooms? I’m still above Byleth but surely you wouldn’t mind as her future…”
“Shut up. No. I love her. That’s all.” Despite his flat tone, Bernadetta could see a slight rebellious blush on his cheekbones.
“If it was true love then you would spare her from being a-“
Bernadetta realized what Sylvain was jokingly implying and she widened her eyes. “My room is on the ground floor! Uh- forget you know that!”
Felix blanched. “Forgotten.”
Engaged. Practically eloping, in her case. Bernadetta could still barely believe it as the three joined the rest of their classmates, the news spreading like wildfire. Even during a war, a relationship was hot gossip, a mixture of congratulations and teasing passed their way. It was a bright spot against the backdrop of an uncertain future. Bernadetta might have gotten overwhelmed from all the attention- but she couldn’t blame anyone for celebrating. They needed a reason to. Even Hubert gave a word of something totally not scary and she managed to not pass out.
The idea that she had a real home to go to after all was said and done was dizzying.
Though, her room was plenty adequate for now.
Especially with Sylvain in it.
“Sorry for the mess!” Bernadetta had stopped by her bedroom when they’d first taken back the monastery, but she hadn’t done much to tidy the yarns, fabric, needles, and other arts and crafts supplies. Her desk was bursting with papers as well and she threw everything into drawers and cupboards as fast as possible as Sylvain stepped inside.
“It’s alright. It’s what I love about you.” Sylvain smiled.
“The mess?” Bernadetta hid a laugh behind her palm.
“No, how creative you are! Is this a flower you like to wear?” Sylvain held up a purple crochet flower pin.
“It’s for Hubert. So he won’t scare me. I started before the war, I want to finish it.”
They might be engaged but Bernadetta still braced to be laughed at, her anxiety clawing at her again. Sylvain gently set the flower down and turned to her, only pride on his face. “It’s lovely- it’ll help me too if he wears it.”
A peaceful silence fell between them. Bernadetta sat on the edge of her bed, unable to think of much else besides Sylvain. He’d already taken his armor off and was dressed down to casual wear. She might see him like that often, she supposed. She looked away as he settled beside her, just inches apart. The silence felt heavier.
“We’re not doing anything both of us don’t want,” he said softly.
She nodded. How to get past the dread that swirled inside of her, the fear and worry that in such an intimate setting, he would fall out of love with her, only care for her as a friend? “I worry you’ll be disappointed. That you’ll leave.”
“Never.” There it was again, that steady, gentle determination to love her.
“I thought about this with you the past few years.”
Oh no, what had possessed her to say that?! Bernadetta hid her burning face in her hands and kicked her legs as Sylvain chuckled. He placed a hand on the mattress behind her, making the bed dip as he leaned close to her ear, the mischief clear in his voice. “I gotta know what you thought about now. Give your fiance some hints, huh? Not like I need them, but I am so curious.”
Bernadetta liked reading and writing romance and clever lines, even if she would usually die before saying anything aloud. But… Sylvain knew all about her. He wanted fun, and so did she! “You know what they tell writers?” A surge of courage overtook her and she was reaching for Sylvain herself, a hand on his shoulder and another in his hair as she swung a leg over his lap to straddle him. “Showing is better than telling.”
She kissed him quickly before he could give feedback.
Unlike the desperate, emotional high they shared in the greenhouse (to her horror, now that she thought on it), their kisses turned into something slower. Curious, learning, warm kisses as they meshed together and took in every little bit about each other. Sylvain’s broad shoulders and toned muscles were comforting even under his shirt, secure for her to hold onto and touch. What struck her the most was how simply warm he felt in such a way that she hadn’t imagined. The embrace, touch, and kisses of another person were so much better than wishful dreams and imaginings, unable to capture how someone might kiss and tease with their tongue or how just their breath felt against her. Belonging, intimacy- even a minute of kissing had her knees weak. Sylvain’s palm was against the small of her back, soothingly rubbing a circle as their kisses waxed and waned like the tide.
“Hmmmm.” He broke the kiss to say something and Bernadetta simply chased him, making him laugh with startlement. Sylvain angled his head for a deeper kiss and let his hands wander, the one on her back slipping lower and giving a squeeze. Bernadetta moaned and her hips rolled forward before she could stop herself. Sylvain grinned and used his hand to pull her completely flush with himself. His other hand settled on her thigh, petting her smooth skin and brushing the hem of her short skirt. “Good? Seems to be yes, but a guy could always use an ego boost.”
“Good,” she breathed. Bernadetta put her hands on his chest, still getting used to the idea that this was happening and she was free to just... touch him. She impulsively reached down and yanked up his tunic. “Off!” Oh no, that was rude. What was he, a horse? “Please?”
Sylvain reached a hand behind his back and tugged it off, grinning as it landed somewhere in her room and his hair waved in front of his face, already disheveled. “How could I deny you?”
She swallowed and eyed his chest, noting how he truly was toned up close despite all of Felix’s insistence that he train more. Scars stood out here and there, telling a tale of a rambunctious boy turned warrior in more recent years, old and new marking his skin. Her fingertips traced a few of them as she leaned in to kiss him again, warming up to the idea of being so close and losing some of the anxiety. She laughed softly against him, face pink as Sylvain kept rubbing her back and thigh. “Happy to see me, Sylvain?”
“Hm, not to put too fine a point on it, but I could ask the same.” Sylvain wiggled his eyebrows and lifted his hips against her.
He really didn’t mind, then. Bernadetta wanted to be sure. She unclasped the short shoulder cape she’d taken to wearing as part of her new outfit and set it aside, getting ready for the rest. Sylvain beat her to it. She squeaked as his palms slipped under the one piece dress and pushed up. She raised her arms so it would all come off over her head, face burning. She took care ro never reveal her chest, but her worries were assuaged again as he kissed her, hands eagerly against her skin again.
“Hm!” Bernadetta jerked her hips against him as his fingers got adventurous, pressing and teasing her nipples. Sylvain got even handsier, leaving no skin untouched as his kisses got sloppier. Bernadetta trembled and tried to keep up, panting between brushes of their tongues together.
“Can I lift ya?” Sylvain broke the kiss for a second and pecked her cheek over and over again, making her scrunch up her face as she laughed. How could it feel like so much- playful, heavy, carefree, intimate?
Bernadetta nodded and then yipped as Sylvain lifted her and laid her down on the bed, straddling her himself. Her head landed on her pillow and she sighed, pulling Sylvain in for more kisses, just left in her panties and socks. Sylvain was so confident and smooth and still half dressed- it wasn’t fair. She reached down and tugged at the waist of his pants and Sylvain pulled back for a moment.
“Ah- I need something from those. Confession time, I suppose.” Sylvain reached into a pocket and dropped a vial of oil on the bed. “Forgive the old habit, but it’s useful, right?”
It would be easy to let everything fall into place and let Sylvain lead. He was composed, bright, and flirty even as he kicked his clothes off. Bernadetta grabbed the vial before she could think too much and drizzled oil on her fingers. She reached out and grasped Sylvain, biting her lip as she twisted her wrist and eased her hand up and down with every intention of getting him off- guard.
“Ah-“ Sylvain’s reaction was immediate, inhaling sharply and thrusting into her hand with a shuddering gasp. Finally his face and chest were tinged with pink and his fingers clenched in the bedsheets on either side of Bernadetta. “Hmmm- oooh you know what you’re doing…”
She smiled at him, not quite a smirk, because Bernies don’t smirk. His obvious pleasure emboldened her to stroke him faster and lean up to kiss his ear. “The notion of being an obedient, silent, passive wife never sat well with me. No one should have to be- and I refuse to be. So, I don’t want to just sit back, I want you- and I want you to feel good by my hand!”
She hid her face in his neck after that taking in how Sylvain tried to keep up with her rhythm until his thrusts were staggered and he came hard, groaning and trembling. Bernadetta did her best to ignore the stain on the bed.
“Goddess,” breathed Sylvain. He touched his forehead to Bernadetta’s, sneaking a kiss on her cheek as he did so. “A girl with initiative- I lucked out. Is there any way in which you wouldn’t spoil me and be so perfect?”
Bernadetta wiped her hand off on another part of the bed she pointedly refused to look at. She kissed his lips. “I- I’ll try to be perfect. In our own way.”
Sylvain still fought to catch his breath, a change of plan forming in his mind. He chuckled. “Well, you’re full of surprises.”
“Hey! Uh, I surprise me too,” she admitted.
“You know, my pride is at stake here. Never let it be said that Sylvain Jose Gautier didn't satisfy someone.”
Bernadetta wondered what such a statement and a wink would lead to, but not for long. Sylvain kissed her neck and then straight down her chest, getting her excited again with touches to her sides and stomach. He showed no qualms or signs of stopping once his head was between her legs, and he looked directly up at her.
“Oh.” Bernadetta swallowed and expected him to tug her underwear off, especially since they weren’t hiding anything about her arousal inside. Sylvain didn’t, instead licking at her erection through the thin cloth, tongue deliberately swiping at her tip. Bernadetta squeaked and covered her mouth, noises she didn’t think possible threatening to escape as he lavished attention on her.
Sylvain glanced up again, grinning. His hands splayed out on her thighs and his warm breath ghosting against the dampness where he’d licked. “If you ever doubt how much I want you, don’t. Remember this, because I can’t get enough of you.”
Bernadetta’s thighs shook and her heels dug into the bedding a moment later, unable to contain a shout when Sylvain almost tore her underwear off and engulfed her in his mouth. The heat, pressure, and pure erotic sight she was treated to of him going down on her was almost too much. She cried out again, squirming and trying to thrust despite her best efforts, heart pounding as she gasped and her thighs and hips reflexively twitched and jerked.
“Aaaahh- hhhhh.” Bernadetta threw her head back and whimpered, mouth wide open until she too was finishing hard and fast. “ Sylvain! ” She couldn’t help crying his name out, even as she went limp and deflated, limbs heavy on the bed. Sylvain swallowed it all, which made all of her energy divert to blushing again. “Oh god.”
“Every second has proven to me how right I was to choose you to devote myself to.” Sylvain breathed hard and held her hand with a squeeze. “I look forward to being the best husband you could dream of.”
“You already are.” Bernadetta worked her underwear off and nudged them to the floor, suddenly exhausted. She curled up with Sylvain and some old instinct to hide kicked in. She pulled up her blankets and tucked her head against his chest, warm and sated. Sylvain held her close, giving the top of her head a kiss.
They laid there in a sprawl of tired limbs in silence for a few minutes. Sylvain stroked her hair, half proud and half guilty over how the flyaways were his doing. “You write anymore?”
“Yeah.” Bernadetta sighed. “I didn’t know my ending before today, but I think the protagonist might get a happy one.” She laughed softly. “And the grumpy swordsman shows signs of being in love himself.”
Sylvain laughed too, the genuine smile reserved for his close friends on his face, not the automatic one he was working to unlearn. “Felix might let you get away with portraying him if it’s as the greatest sword master in all the land, but being the greatest sword master with a pudding center is asking for trouble.”
“You think he’d read it?”
She meant it rhetorically but Sylvain surprised her. “Off the top of my head, I imagine Felix, Dorothea, Ashe, Ingrid- lots of people would like a good story. Even more if they knew it was by a friend. Felix used to love those tales of knights- I would be doubly impressed and happy if you made one he enjoyed. I, of course, would like to selfishly remain your biggest fan.”
Bernadetta smiled and squeezed Sylvain in a hug in her arms. She almost couldn’t believe that she would wake up with him beside her, but she would. It was still amazing. She hoped the feeling of delight would never fade any time she looked at him. “I think it’ll be a happy ending. But it’s one she, well, we- have to fight for.”
It was about the war as much as it was their personal paths. Count Varley would likely find a way to contact her even if she eloped. Bernadetta also had no idea what to make of the Gautiers or Faerghus yet- if the war didn’t simply create one Fódlan.
Sylvain wasn’t deterred. He gave her a final squeeze. “And fight for it, we shall.”