Bring out your dead (a list of grievances)

Chapter 2

They eventually start moving again. They have to, if they want to make it to Garreg Mach by their self imposed deadline.

Felix wraps his arms around Sylvain's middle, forehead pressed into his shoulder and eyes half closed. Ingrid had healed all their physical wounds, but there isn't much she can do about his mental exhaustion.

It's been a long night.

Most nights have been, these past five years. Felix has spent many sleepless nights around a fire with his troops, men sharing one last drink, one last song, knowing not all of them would survive the next day.

But those nights felt different to the bone-deep fatigue Felix feels now, doing all he can to keep the movements of the horse underneath him from sending him to sleep.

They're slow moving now, heading deeper into the Oghma Mountains. The sky above them is tinged grey with the dawn, and despite the exhaustion setting into all three of them and their mounts, they keep on moving forward.

Ingrid pulls at her reins, bringing her pegasus to a halt just short of the town at the foot of Garreg Mach, staring up at the parapets in the steadily brightening sky. "It feels like coming home," she says quietly.

Sylvain lets out a low hum in agreement. "In the same way a childhood memory does," he nudges his horse to start moving again, "that same, wistful nostalgia."

Felix doesn't add to the conversation, despite the ache in his chest. They're right — returning to Garreg Mach now, after five long years, is bittersweet. They only spent a year here, by the end of it all, but the Blue Lions had grown close.

But they all made that promise before the war began, and time and danger and pain and everything has tried to stop them, tried to pull them apart.

Felix has never been the type to reflect on the past. He blames Sylvain and Ingrid for bringing out that side of him in the darkest hours of the night, after little food and even less rest.

He doesn't have that much faith in the others turning up. If it hadn't been for the other two, Felix certainly wouldn't have. Chances are, they'll set up camp for a night or two, then begin the long trek home in a stilted silence.

Sylvain stops the horse again, shoulder stiffening under Felix's forehead.

"D'you hear that?" Sylvain asks, and Ingrid pulls to a stop alongside him.

"Hear what?"

Sylvain looks at her flatly. She tilts her head to the side, listening for a moment.

"Oh."

They both lapse back into silence, and Felix strains to hear what Sylvain noticed.

It's faint.

It's faint, but it's there.

The all too familiar clashing sounds of a battle.

"I thought you said this place was empty," Felix says, sliding down to solid ground and readying his gear, tying an extra sword to his belt.

Sylvain shrugs, unhooking his lance. "Of Empire troops, yeah. Whoever's fighting now..."

"Let's just hope we pick the right side," Ingrid pulls her own lance off her back, expression already steeled for battle.

"We should stick together," Sylvain says, glancing down at Felix as he checks his armour. He smirks a tiny bit, dimple showing in his cheek. "So try and keep up."

And with that, he spurs his horse on towards the noise, Ingrid taking flight and tailing him low to the ground, pegasus' wings skimming caving-in rooftops and tree branches.