Chapter Text
When Shinon was a child he’d developed a habit of only wanting things in secret, and even then only rarely.
Wanting things made him feel wrenched open and vulnerable, like he was choosing to let his guard down, baring his stomach to someone's knife. Wanting things hurt, and not getting them hurt even more. If he admitted that he wanted something and did not get it, then the hurt became public and turned to its more insidious and prying cousins, pity and disappointment.
Getting the things that he wanted happened so rarely that it was not even a part of the picture.
Shinon's father was a bowyer and his mother was the girl he had accidentally gotten pregnant and married before ever getting to know her. Their marriage worked out better than many marriages that started that way, but only because they'd come up with a clever little system of barely talking to each other and studiously pretending that his father wasn't sleeping with the milkmaid and drinking more than their meager income could support.
As a child, Shinon enjoyed a brief period of innocence where he didn't know that his parents did not, in fact, love each other, and he spent it toddling about his father's workroom, fascinated by the bows in various states of creation strewn all over the place. This was before he learned to scorn his father, and he resolved that he would follow in his father's footsteps and become a bowyer too. He told his father as much, and his father patted him on the head and laughed and said, maybe someday. Perhaps because his father was not satisfied in his own life, he did not want the same life for his son. Shinon had long since stopped thinking about his parents' motivations or mitigating circumstances, only remembering that his father taught him how to shoot a bow but not to make one.
After revealing his desire to his father, Shinon worked in secret, stealing materials from his father's workshop when his father was off ostensibly buying milk, spending long hours collecting branches from the woods behind their house and trying to imitate his father's movements that somehow turned plain wood into beautiful weapons.
Most people acknowledge that making anything for the first time is hard, and the first attempt is never going to be all that good. Shinon's first attempt at a bow was crooked and crude and barely worked as a bow, but Shinon had managed to hit a tree with it-it was a big tree and he'd been standing very close, but the important thing was that he had hit it at all-and he was very proud of it. He took the bow into his father's workroom and thrust it into his father's hands, proudly proclaiming, "Look daddy, I made a bow, just like you!"
His father may or may not have been drunk at the time; Shinon was too young at the time to notice and when he looked back on it, too old to care. Drunk or not, he stared at the bow in his hands like his mother stared at dead mice that the neighbor's cat brought to their doorstep and laughed.
"What do you think you're going to hit with this tortured tree branch? Ancient rabbits and field mice that the cats have already half killed? Son, you're pretty handy at shooting a bow, but maybe you should leave making them to the professionals."
He'd handed the bow back to Shinon and was about to say something else, but Shinon ran out of the workroom and into the woods, snapped the bow over his knee until it broke in two and his knee was bruised, and cried. That was when he first learned that sharing your hopes and desires leads to pain, and with no counterexamples to prove him wrong, he took it to heard and worked very hard to have as few hopes and desires as possible, and not to share the things that he did want.
When Shinon was young, his mother had told him the story of a fox who had seen a bunch of grapes hanging from a tree. They looked delicious, and he spent hours jumping to try to grab them, but they were always just out of reach. Eventually, neck strained and legs tired, the fox had given up and walked away, telling himself that the grapes were probably sour and he wouldn't have wanted them anyway.
The moral of the story was apparently that the fox was detestable for casting judgement on something simply because he could not have it, but Shinon took a different lesson from it. If you cannot get the things you want, no matter how hard you try, then you may as well assume that those things weren't something you really would have wanted to begin with. Even better, you may as well figure that out before putting in the effort, and not want anything in the first place at all.
Like the fox, Shinon did not get many things that he wanted, not as a child and not after that. This taught him not to deal with disappointment or to want more reasonable things, but to want less, and only furtively, the desire struggling to survive under a thick cloak of denial and affected indifference. Every time that he found himself, despite his best efforts, truly wanting something and not getting it, he only felt justified in squelching out that flicker of unabashed desire further.
Like the fox, people around him scorned him, called him bratty and ungracious, never realizing that his thorny nature was only a reflection of how disappointment felt to him.
By the time he left home, left his parents' sad little house and even sadder little marriage behind, he had almost completely trained himself out of the habit of wanting things, or at the very least the habit of admitting it to anyone, himself most of all. He made a living as a mercenary, which didn't make him happy or give him a home, but it gave him an alcohol problem and money enough to fuel it, and that seemed about as close as he was going to get.
The drinking habit wouldn't usually be considered a perk of the job, but considering he met most of the people who hired him in bars, it seemed to work out well enough. If it weren't for his drinking problem, he would never have met Greil, or have been hired to join the Greil Mercenaries. Greil had seen him fighting off bandits with several other mercenaries one afternoon, and then later run into him at the local tavern, and had offered him a permanent position in his group. Shinon was never entirely sure whether Greil's offer was based on his admiration of Shinon's fighting skills or a misguided sense of pity, but he'd learned not to question good fortune and a steady income.
Eventually, he stopped caring why Greil had chosen to hire him, because even he had to admit that it was the best thing that had happened to him since he first picked up a bow. The Greil Mercenaries were well-respected, upstanding, incredibly talented, and close-knit. Of course, most of the members other than Greil vaguely disliked or outright hated Shinon because he was arrogant and abrasive, and seeing happy families only made it worse. Only Greil seemed to realize or care that Shinon's personality was something that he had learned along the way rather than something he was born with, and that alone made it worth staying.
It was Greil who had first properly taught Shinon how to make a bow. Greil didn't practice archery himself, but he found it relaxing to do something with his hands, and he said that an old friend had taught him. When Shinon asked further about where he learned it, Greil changed the subject, wearing the same slightly pained smile that came up whenever anyone referenced his past or his wife, who Shinon assumed was dead. Shinon doesn't pry, because he understands the feeling of not wanting to talk about his past, even though his own past is more of the mundane unpleasant variety that too many poor Crimeans live for them to truly be considered tragic.
So Shinon doesn't ask and Greil doesn't tell, but he teaches Shinon enough that he starts making bows again. Eventually, his bows surpass Greil's, because as an archer he better understands what truly makes a good bow. Rather than being upset, Greil is quietly proud, and Shinon tries his best not to think of his father, who is probably dead by now of alcohol poisoning or his wife slipping arsenic in his soup, and if not, is living a life so quietly meaningless that he may as well be dead.
Maybe Shinon isn't happy, per se. Most of the mercenaries still hate him, and he still is very good at not wanting things, but he's approaching something dangerously close to content.
Then one day they pick up a small-town knight with golden blonde hair and broad shoulders who looks like he stepped out of a storybook rather than a backwater border town and Shinon is struck by want so suddenly and so hard that it causes him physical pain.
He's always known that he's found men more attractive than women, has fucked men that he met in bars and had quite a few awkward dreams about Greil and even one about Rhys, but he's never felt anything quite so strong, or so immediate as he does for this man.
The man introduces himself as Gatrie, and Shinon, still reeling from the flood of want that he hasn't let himself feel for so many years, rudely asks, "What kind of name is that?"
Titania glares at him and Oscar smiles tensely like he's bracing himself for a punch, but the knight-Gatrie-laughs, utterly unoffended and says, "Well, what's your name?"
"Shinon." He grits out, feeling the situation spiral out of familiar territory and out of control.
"Well Shinon," Gatrie grabs his hand to shake it and grins, looking Shinon directly in the eyes. "Even though your name is pretty strange too, it's still nice to meet you."
Gatrie is not good at comeback, Shinon learns. He's too good-natured, and being cutting is simply beyond him. It's also unnecessary, since the pure goodwill that he exudes shames even Shinon, who makes a point of being shameless because being concerned about how others perceive you is just inconvenient.
Before Shinon can think of a reply, Gatrie drops his hand and sweeps over to Titania, introducing himself with a flourish and kissing her hand. Usually, Titania would be rolling her eyes, but even she seems to be taken with Gatrie's utter lack of guile. Shinon glares-at Titania, at Gatrie, at Greil, at anyone-and slinks off.
It's fine, he thinks. It'll only take a few days for Gatrie to dislike him enough to leave him alone, he'll jerk off a few times thinking about those hands, and that'll be the end of it.
It's not the end of it.
Against all odds, Gatrie decides that he likes Shinon. Well, Gatrie likes everyone, but for reasons that confound everyone, Shinon most of all, he likes Shinon the best.
Shinon snaps at him and Gatrie apologizes. Shinon calls Gatrie a country beefsteak in his father's armor and Gatrie takes it as a compliment. Shinon drunkenly spills wine on Gatrie's favorite shirt and Gatrie helps him to bed.
Eventually Shinon gives up and accepts that Gatrie has somehow become his closest, and perhaps only, friend.
Sometimes Shinon wonders why he didn't fight Gatrie's intrusion into his life all that much. He certainly rebuffed Oscar and Rhy's attempts at friendship quickly and definitively, and planned to do the same to Gatrie, but Gatrie seems to have a way of throwing things off. It's Gatrie, Shinon thinks, and tries to be satisfied with that explanation, tries to ignore the want that now lies curled up somewhere below his stomach, ever-present and only responsive to Gatrie's presence.
Having a friend isn't actually all that bad. On the battlefield, they're close to unstoppable. Gatrie charges forward to startle their enemies, protected by his heavy armor, and Shinon takes out enemies left and right from behind.
"Thunder and lightning strike again!" Gatrie thumps him on the back in congratulations after another successful job, and it's a testament to how much Shinon must like him that he doesn't make fun of the name.
Off the battlefield they still work, somehow. Gatrie comes out drinking with him, and Shinon realizes that he didn't particularly like drinking alone, it's just that no one else was willing to drink with him. Drunk Shinon is mean, even meaner than sober Shinon, but Gatrie likes him anyway, drunk or sober.
Drinking with Gatrie is fun, but going to taverns with Gatrie isn't always. Gatrie has a reputation as a flirt, and Shinon hates it. Drunk Shinon hates it even more. The taverns are full of ladies who are moderately attractive and incredibly available, and they're always fawning over Gatrie, even though Gatrie's flirting is actually painful to witness. There's something about being incredibly muscular and so kind and trusting that people think you're simple that the ladies just can't resist.
Unfortunately, the ladies aren't always just in it for his body. Gatrie has lose his money, his wallet, several hats, a shirt, and on one occasion, one of Titania's axes to conniving women who correctly identify him as an easy target.
Shinon hates those women for taking advantage of Gatrie, even though he has to admit that in their position, he might be tempted to do the same thing. But what he hates even more than the women who scam Gatrie are the women who don't. The ones who do just want him for his body, or even worse, the ones who like everything about him and want to get to know him better in more than just a sexual sense. Shinon's good at reading body language, and he can always tell which ones they are even if Gatrie can't.
At this point, Shinon's got an algorithm worked out. If the girl is obviously scamming Gatrie and he's not too drunk to care, he'll watch them and wait until it stops being funny, then put an end to it. Sometimes he catches the girl alone while Gatrie's going to buy her another drink, or fetch his wallet, or go find his mother's wedding ring or whatever it is that they're demanding of him and lets her know in no uncertain terms that Gatrie is not a fair target. It's gratifying to watch their eyes narrow, to see their anger at being thwarted, and if Shinon's not in a melancholy mood, sometimes he enjoys it.
Other times he just stumbles over in between them and falls on Gatrie, sloshing his drink and pretending to be much drunker than he actually is. If he's drunk enough to be slightly reckless, he might find his hands twisting in Gatrie's shirt as Gatrie half-carries him back to the fort. This method is gratifying because he can pretend that Gatrie is choosing him over the women, even though he's sure that Gatrie would do the same for any member of the Greil Mercenaries. Hell, he'd probably do it for any stranger that he met earlier that day, because Gatrie is just too damn good of a person.
Once, when a girl was not only trying to take Gatrie's money but also angling for him to marry her and take her away from her small hometown, Shinon started a barfight. Gatrie had jumped in as soon as he'd seen that Shinon was in the middle of it, and that was the end of any talk of marriage for that night. Shinon had rarely seen Gatrie fight without his armor on, and with the way that want punched him in the chest (or maybe it was the man he'd thrown a chair at earlier), it was probably good that it was rare.
"I can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I?" Gatrie says fondly as they limp back to camp, Shinon leaning on him a little too heavily even though his legs are barely bruised.
"I could say the same for you." Shinon retorts, trying not to think about how good Gatrie looks with a scratch on his cheek and smelling of blood and alcohol. "I look away for a minute and you'd almost gotten married."
Gatrie looks embarrassed. "Well, she said that her father beats her and the only way she could leave was if she married someone who could take her away."
"That's the third time you've heard that line this month, Gatrie." Shinon chides.
"Well," Gatrie says, pulling Shinon slightly closer to his side in what Shinon is sure Gatrie means in a purely fraternal way. "It's a good thing I have you around then, isn't it?"
It’s worse when the girls want Gatrie’s body rather than his money, and it’s the worst when they just want him. Shinon may be petty and sometimes cruel, but he cannot bring himself to interfere when the woman is genuinely interested. It’s not out of any goodwill, or because the thought of Gatrie going home with her doesn’t make his insides twist with distaste and ale, but because he’s afraid that if he lets himself scare off one girl, he won’t be able to stop.
So every time he feels the urge to march over and drag Gatrie out of the tavern and back to camp where there are no women but Titania and Mist, he orders another drink. If Gatrie goes home with the girl, he orders three and burns the rest of the evening out of his memory.
Gatrie doesn’t usually go home with girls, but every time he does he asks Shinon for permission, making sure that he’s not abandoning Shinon like the good friend that he is, a much better friend than Shinon deserves.
To Shinon it all feels like abandonment, but he gives his blessing anyway because to do anything else would be to acknowledge that he wants. He wants Gatrie away from those women, he wants Gatrie to choose him, he just plain wants.
Occasionally it almost seems like Gatrie wants Shinon to object, but Shinon is sure that’s just the liquor and his imagination, so he pushes the thought aside and sets about ensuring that he wakes up the next day with a splitting headache that leaves no room in his skull for images of Gatrie fucking some woman.
It may be a dysfunctional routine, but it’s better than anything he’s had before.
It all changes when the shadow of Greil’s past catches up to them in the form of a knight dressed all in black, who looks twice as large as Gatrie and five times as fearsome, who strikes down Greil in front of his children and leaves the rest of them alive to deal with the fallout.
Without a leader, everyone gravitates towards Ike and Mist, except Shinon, who slinks off to grieve alone, and Gatrie, who follows him so he doesn’t have to.
Gatrie follows Shinon into his tent uninvited, finds Shinon sitting on his cot, head in his hands and eyes wet.
Gatrie hesitates in the doorway. “I don’t know what to say, but I thought you might not want to be alone.”
Shinon does want to be alone, but he also wants Gatrie because he always wants Gatrie, wants his attention and his companionship and his calm, jovial presence.
“Then don’t say anything.” Shinon tells him, but motions him in, and they sit together in silence, Gatrie’s arm around Shinon’s shoulders as Shinon cries silently and Gatrie pretends that he is not weeping too.
The shock and exhaustion of grief carry them all through the night, but in the morning everyone has begun to worry about the future and who will lead them through it. Greil had been a leader and more than that, and without him the Greil Mercenaries lacked direction.
Everyone other than Mist, who is still asleep, gathers to discuss the situation and it becomes clear that the consensus is that Ike should lead in his father’s stead.
“Ike has been training his whole life to one day take over the Greil Mercenaries,” Titania says, infuriatingly logical. “That day has come much earlier than any of us expected or hoped, but I trust Ike and will follow him as I did Greil.”
Ike, for his part, looks shell-shocked but determined. It’s impressive for a 17-year-old who has just become an orphan, but Shinon is not impressed.
“I know I am not my father, but I will do my best.” Ike says, solemnly.
“We’re all here to help you with whatever you need.” Oscar reassures him, Boyd nodding in agreement. Soren says nothing, but remains by Ike’s side, closer than a shadow. Shinon has often wondered what happened that made Soren look like he would follow Ike over a cliff into a volcano without batting an eye.
“Look, I hate to be the buzzkill here, but the kid’s seventeen! Do you expect me to be a part of a mercenary group led by a child?” Shinon knows that maybe keeping his mouth shut would be best, but he’s never liked Ike.
It’s not Ike’s fault that he had a father who loved and supported him, that he knew what it was like to grow up in a loving household with a mother who probably hugged him often. It’s not Ike’s fault, but it’s also not Shinon’s fault that he sees Ike and cannot help but burn with jealousy and resentment. He could tolerate Ike as the boss’s kid, but Ike as the boss is just unthinkable.
“Shinon...” Titania’s voice is a clear warning.
“No offense to Ike, but Shinon is right. Ike doesn’t have much experience in battle, let alone leading the group. Maybe we should talk about that a little?” Gatrie chimes in, always the peacemaker.
“I don’t plan on taking over everything, and I’ll have Titania to help m-”
“You don’t have to agree with that asshole just because you’re drinking buddies, Gatrie!” Boyd cuts off Ike, temper almost as hot as Shinon’s and much less under control.
The meeting spirals out of control as Gatrie tries to reply as Ike tries to repeat himself and Oscar brings out the voice he uses when he’s acting like a parent with rowdy children. The noise wakes Mist, who stumbles out of her tent, face still red from crying just as Shinon raises his voice to declare, “Look, I don’t want to cause trouble. Ike can be the leader, but I’ll be leaving.”
It’s sudden, but it makes sense. Shinon stayed with the Greil Mercenaries because they were the Greil Mercenaries. He may be an asshole, but he’s a loyal asshole and Greil had earned his respect and loyalty a thousand times over; to expect him to give the same to Ike just for being born Greil’s son was beyond laughable.
Shinon doesn’t have many things, so he’s almost done packing his stuff when Gatrie appears.
“Hey, wait for me to pack. I’m coming with you.”
“Why?” Shinon asks flatly, energy already drained for the day even though it’s barely noon.
“Because you’re right. Ike’s a good kid, but he’s not ready to lead a mercenary group. Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t get ambushed with nothing but a bow to defend yourself.”
Shinon wants to protest that he can defend himself perfectly well with only a bow, but it doesn’t seem important and he can’t muster up the energy to pretend that having Gatrie coming with him doesn’t fill his whole body with relief and make him feel like he can breathe again.