Archive of Our Own

Annette wasn’t certain what woke her that morning, but as she stared up at the roof of her tent, she felt a deep sense of foreboding about the coming day. Sitting up quickly, her breath came in short, shallow gasps, like she’d been having a nightmare. Gripping her nightgown, the racing of her heart made her wish she could remember the content of her dreams. Regardless, the feeling of unease settled on her like a thick blanket, weighing her down.

Her small tent felt stuffy and she flung her covers off, grabbing her dress from her pack and quickly changing. Clipping her caplet around her shoulders, she ran her fingers through her hair but didn’t bother with a full brushing, leaving it down in the gentle array of curls she often woke with. Satisfied that she was at least somewhat presentable, she quickly left the confines of her tent.

The morning air was cool, a nice change from the heat of the day, as she walked silently through the rows and rows of tents, the rest of the army still asleep. She wasn’t really sure where she was going, except that she had to get out, so she walked aimlessly through the damp grass. The sun had not risen above the distant horizon, painting the sky a light indigo.

Coming to a small hill, she stared out over the fields and to the grey stone walls that circled a city she once called home. Fhridiad stood tall among the surrounding land, looking unbreachable.

Annette crossed her arms under her breasts, hugging herself. It felt odd, being on the other side of those walls, since she’d spent so much time within. Parts of her childhood, her years at the Royal School of Sorcery, and the times she’d accompanied her Uncle during those long five years.

Back so soon, she didn’t know what to think about the proud city. Nostalgia, certainly, resentment, for the days locked behind enemy lines and...fear.

Fear, that was it.

She was scared, because she knew what was at stake. Now that his Highness had regained more of his faculties, they were here to liberate the Kingdom, but there was still an obstacle in the way. An ugly, conniving, petty obstacle, one Annette wasn’t sure they could overcome without great cost.

After all, what did the last great battle take from them?

Even though the morning’s air was calm and clear, she heard echoes of ballistas firing, the dying screams, and one particular wail as an outpost was set aflame. Long gone smoke stung her nose as she breathed in.

Unprompted, the expression Felix had worn flickered to the front of her mind—how he only blinked when told his father would never be coming home. He’d looked so blank, so empty, before turning on his heels and walking away. The others thought he’d taken his father's death well, only locking himself away for a couple of days then returning to the councils like nothing had happened, but she knew better.

She unconsciously began to hum, the same song she’d sung for him later, as he clung to her, crying against her chest. She was grateful that she could be there for him, but she never wanted to hear that sound again. The way his breath hitched and stuttered between sobs, suppressed and as quiet as he could make them. The only thing she managed to do was try and sing his pain away, running her fingers through his hair.

Still singing softly under her breath, Annette gazed out at her city, that same feeling of deep foreboding pressing down on her, unwanted scenarios popping into her head. Her song tapered off, she shivered and rubbed her arms. She knew that this was important, and her people deserved to be liberated, but what was the cost?

Who would they lose this time?

“You’re up early,” someone commented, coming up beside her. “What’s wrong?”

Shrieking, she spun to gape up at Felix, his face impassive as ever as he stared back. Of course it was Felix, who else would randomly pop up on her? At least he wasn’t commenting on her singing for once. Hopefully he hadn’t heard it.

“Stop sneaking up on me!” she huffed, shooting him an annoyed look. “It’s nothing.”

He raised a brow, giving her a look that indicated he didn’t believe her in the slightest. Uncharacteristically, he didn’t push. Instead, he rested his hand on his sword hilt.

“Have you eaten yet?”

Her stomach growled in response, and she flushed. “No.”

A smile ticked at the corner of his mouth before it was suppressed again. “Well, we don’t have steaks or cakes, but I saw Mercedes helping Ashe with some kind of soup. It should be ready by now.”

“Ooohh, you are the worst,” she snapped, but turned to follow him back into the heart of the camp. “You’re such a—”

“Villain,” he finished. “I know.”

She pouted, fighting the smile that threatened to show that she really wasn’t that mad at him. They walked in comfortable silence, as if he could feel the same unease that she could, and it further curbed his tongue. That was okay, she didn’t feel like speaking either.

It didn’t take long to find the cooking tent, where Mercie was indeed behind the table, setting out large stew pots and plates of buns.

Noticing them come in, she smiled. “Annie, Felix, good morning. You’re up early.”

Skipping a step forward, Annette mirrored her friend's smile. “Just—woke up, for no reason. It’s okay, though, it’s a nice morning for a walk.”

Mercie hummed, keeping her eyes on her task, but Annette could tell that she was being polite and not calling her out on the fact that she never just ‘woke up’ this early. It was always because something was bothering her, which she knew.

Lifting the lid, Mercie peered into a pot, and her voice sounded apologetic. “Our supplies are a little low right now, but we’ve been cooking this stew all night. It should fill everyone up for today.”

Accepting a bowl that Felix offered her, since he’d gone and grabbed one for both of them, Annette shook her head. “Don’t worry about it! Everyone understands.”

Felix grunted in agreement, already moving to serve himself from a different pot. “It’s fine, anyone who complains are idiots.”

Mercie covered her smile with her hand, probably not wanting to laugh at something that could be considered so rude.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her tone mild to hide her amusement.

Annette giggled and gave her bowl to Mercie to fill, going to retrieve two buns from the platter. Coming back, she offered her second one to Felix, who took it with a small nod. Taking back her now filled dish, they waved Mercies their goodbyes then left to avoid the rush of people coming to claim their own breakfasts. Normally, she liked sitting with the others and chatting, but she didn’t think she had the energy for that, so she followed Felix to a secluded part of camp. Sitting with him on a pile of boulders, she dug into her stew.

They ate in silence for the most part, Annette occasionally humming her appreciation for the meal. Sure, it wasn’t the best seasoned or had many ingredients, but it was better than bland porridge.

Felix was the one to break the calm that had fallen over them.

“That song you were singing, it was sad,” he said abruptly, his tone a little rougher than normal.

Annette startled and turned to look at him, but couldn’t catch his eyes. Instead, he gazed intently at the bowl in his hands.

She groaned. Of course he’d heard it, why did she think he hadn’t? Somehow, he’d managed to hear every song she sang, when she’d hidden them for so long. He just—appeared, as if her singing attracted grumpy swordsmen like a siren's call.

That would make her the siren, she realised, scowling. Heaving a sigh, she pushed potato bits around in the bowl with her spoon.

“It was,” she admitted.

“Are you?”

She shrugged, and looking up at the horizon again, her lips thinning when she saw the dark shadow on the city. Felix just had to pick a spot with a perfect view of it.

Finally, she muttered, “Just thinking.”

“About?”

Annette bit her lip, not really wanting to explain her thought process, or the bad feeling curling in her gut, but she didn’t have a good reason to keep them from him either. Sighing heavily, she gestured towards the city, the motion too simplistic to truly capture the whole of her emotions.

“This, everything—the war. We’re finally home and retaking Fhirdiad, but…what’s the cost?”

He hummed low in his throat, looking out at the city himself. Watching him, she knew that he hid a lot under his anger and apathy, and now, she could see the yearning on his face, but also pain.

She understood. The capital held many pitfalls for her too.

“Every battle has a cost,” he said finally, his eyes darting back to her. “Don’t allow it to be you. If you worry too much, you won’t see the enemy coming.”

Her breath hitched at the look he was giving her.

Her cheeks warmed but before she could say anything, he continued, “Stick close to me, we can protect each other.”

He didn’t say it, but she could guess at what he really meant—I don’t want to lose you too. That he was putting her in the same place as Ingrid, Sylvain, Dimitri and even his father, took the air out of her lungs.

As ever, she had no idea what to do with it, so she dodged.

“You just want to hear me sing again,” she teased.

His cheeks darkened and he looked away.

“Shut up.”

“Wait, really?” she blurted.

He ducked his head and stared at his empty bowl.

Heat rushed back to her face and she wanted to hide under her covers back at the monastery. Before she could figure out how to pinpoint the reason for his bashfulness, which was a marvel on its own, someone called to them.

“Hey, birdies!”

Felix’s head snapped up and the look he gave Sylvain as he headed towards them was murderous.

His friend didn’t seem to mind; his grin widened. “Thought I’d find both of you here,”

His eyes flicked between the two of them, before settling on Felix with a look that Annette couldn’t read. Obviously, Felix could, because he stiffened, gripping his sword hilt tightly, lurching to his feet.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

Sylvain kept his teasing smile for a moment before it fell slightly. “It’s time, Dimitri’s calling for everyone.”

Annette jumped and looked at the sun, to see it was well above the horizon. Where had the time gone?

“Oh! We were just finishing eating,” she stuttered, standing as well, but promptly tripped on nothing.

Yelping, she dropped her bowl, flailing. Strong arms caught her before she joined the dish on the ground. Clutching the arm around her middle, she looked up at bourbon coloured eyes, the edges crinkled with mirth.

“How do you even do that?” Felix asked.

Heat flared in her cheeks and she quickly found her footing again. “I have no idea.”

She stooped to pick up her bowl, which now had grass stuck to it.

“At least I was finished or that would have been a tragic waste.”

Felix chuckled and gathered his own dishes. “There is that.”

“You’re not obligated to agree with me,” she said.

“Awww,” Sylvain cut in, pressing his hands to his cheeks.

He didn’t say anymore but Felix glared at him, a wordless warning. Baffled, Annette watched them for hints of understanding, but their expressions stayed unchanged.

“Come on, we can take your cutlery back to the cooks on the way,” Sylvain said, jerking his head in the direction of the mess tent.

Annette nodded and scrambled to follow him, Felix on her heels, grumbling under his breath.

As they walked, she fell back slightly to ask, “Birdies?”

Felix’s glare darkened. “Ignore him, he’s just an idiot.”

He picked up his pace, catching up to Sylvain and shoving him.

Shaking her head, she took a steadying breath and hurried after them, knowing now was not the time to be distracted.

***

Fighting in a side street, Annette felt the strong Harpstring Moon sun bearing down above her, warming her back unpleasantly. The heat had long since climbed during the battle and she’d discarded her caplet and gloves hours ago.

Gulping a lungful of hot, humid air, she started painting a glyph with white light. Her sole focus was on the hulking machine—abomination—clanking as it moved towards her. Her fingers were starting to numb and her arms felt like she’d been hauling heavy stone, but she completed her circle, thrusting it away from her chest.

The spinning glyph shot forwards, hitting the Titanus squarely on its front. Moments later, a swirling vortex of bright light tore at its metallic hide, her Excalibur burning through the last of its lifeforce, or whatever kept it moving. It collapsed on itself, a high pitched screeching filling the air as it toppled forwards.

The price of using such heavy magic hit her, and Annette staggered. That was the third Tinanus she’d helped defeat, spearheading the attack since they were weaker to magic than cold steel. Felix, being a Mortal Savant, had helped, but his attention was divided between keeping people off her and helping when he saw an opening. Sylvain had done the same, dancing to and fro on his horse, the Lance of Ruin digging deeper into the creatures than a regular lance.

As she recovered, panting heavily, she heard a boom just a street over, and a cry of triumph. Lysithea, she realized with a relieved smile, she must have destroyed another, her darker magic more fit to demolish these things. Wiping sweat from her brow, she was ridiculously thankful there was one less to fight.

“Annette!”

She jerked her head towards Felix, the panic in his voice crawling down her spine like a bucket of icy water. Her gaze met his for a split second, his eyes wide and flicking to something behind her. Whirling, she spotted a Dark bishop aiming at her from a few yards away, a spell already spinning around his arm. She had no time to avoid the attack, so she braced herself, counting on her high resistance to magic to get her through it.

It wasn’t an attack.

The red magic washed over her, and if her limbs had felt heavy before, they were iron weights now. With a sinking feeling in her gut, she realised that she knew what she’d been hit with, a spell that she and Mercie had been talking about just the other day—Heartseeker. It was a spell designed to make your opponent sluggish and unable to dodge. As she processed these details, a new, more important one emerged: an assassin, previously hidden, was running straight for her.

She had a split second to think ‘that’s a clever tactic’ before she realized that they had a stiletto knife heading straight for her heart.

She tried to stumble back, get away, but couldn’t react in time.

The thin metal gleamed in the sunlight.

Suddenly, something hit her in the side and she was shoved to the ground. She groaned at the dull throb from colliding with hard stone, but scrambled back to her feet. She looked back at the assassin, ready to fight back, but froze, her heart leaping up into her throat.

Felix was standing where she’d been, the assassin’s downwards strike getting past his guard, scratching his chest armour and sliding into the space between the overlapping plates.

The Assassin tried to wrench the blade free, but couldn’t, which made surprise and panic cross their face. They released the blade, jumping back.

Annette reacted before she knew she’d even cast a spell, Cutting Gale biting deep into their armor. The assassin died before they even hit the ground.

“Felix!” she screamed and rushed for him.

He wasn’t looking at her, instead staring down at the thin dagger stuck in his chest. It had only entered a few inches, leaving three fourths of the silver metal in the open air. He hovered his hand around the hilt, a confused frown pulling at his face. Thankfully not touching it, his eyes dragged up and caught hers. A look of pure relief crossed his face and a small smile twitched at his lips.

Frozen, she stared back at him, overcome by how wrong it looked.

Before she could even move, he suddenly coughed, the sound wet and painful. Blood dripped past his lips and down his chin. His legs gave out beneath him and he sat down heavily, coughing.

She’d already started running towards him, so when he started to topple forwards, even sitting she lurched to catch him, screeching, “No!”

She managed it, grabbing his shoulders and easing him backwards instead of on the streets where the impact would only drive the blade deeper. Unfortunately, the force she had to use to get there in time made her jostle his chest, making him gasp.

“No, no, no, no,” she repeated like a mantra, his pained expression eclipsing her vision.

He coughed again, his chest making a disturbing rattling sound. Careful of the dagger, she got them safely onto the cobblestones, propping him up sideways on her lap.

“Ann’te,” he wheezed, his hand coming up to grip her arm.

“Shush, it’s okay,” she lied.

She moved her hand to his chest, resting it over his armour and stubbornly not looking at the dagger inches from her fingers. Her fingers started to glow, and using the little magic she had left, checked the damage. As the gentle pulse of Faith magic spread through his torso, her heart fell even more. The blade had definitely pierced his lung, and she’d been right about it catching on bone. It had clipped his second to last rib, the thin metal stuck there, which was why the assassin hadn’t managed to rip it back out. Keeping the dagger in the wound should have lessened the bleeding, but because it had been shifted and jostled, he was freely bleeding into his lungs. With her magic still pulsing within him, she could feel the blood trickling in and cutting off his air.

Her hands shook as she held him. She couldn’t fix this. She didn’t have the skill to heal him, even if she were at full power.

She realized only after she’d started calling that she was yelling for Mercie, knowing that her friend would be able to save him, when she couldn’t.

Instead of her friend, her response was the thunder of hooves, and she looked up at Sylvain as he pulled his horse to a stop near them. Practically launching himself from his saddle, he tossed his relic aside, and she noticed dully that it was covered with blood. She spotted the body of the Dark Bishop down the street, still as stone.

Kneeling beside them, Syvlain reached for their friend. “Come on, we need to get him to Mercedes.”

With a jolt, she realized what he was doing and hugged Felix closer to her chest. “You can’t!”

Shock and anger passed over Sylvain’s expression, but before he could start yelling at her, or worse, take Felix by force, she continued, “If you put him on a horse right now, he’d bleed out before you find her. Riding is too jerky, it could hurt him more.”

A mix of emotions flashed across his face, cycling through anguish, fear and anger before he settled into a glare, his lips pinched tight.

When he didn’t say anything she added, “I can keep him alive. I c-can’t heal this—” her breath hitched and a sob threatened to escape but she forced it down, “—but I can keep him a-alive. Go find Mercie, she can save him.”

He stared at her for a moment longer before he growled a curse and sharply pointed at Felix. “You’re keeping your promise, you got that?”

Felix huffed a laugh, blood bubbling on his lips. “...Got it.”

Sylvain didn’t look happy about his answer, but turned away and ran to his horse, scooping up his relic as he went. He swung up into his saddle and kicked his mare into a full gallop, racing down the streets, the clopping of hooves quickly diminishing as he got farther away.

As it faded, she became aware of a different sound. It reminded her of a beaded stick she’d seen at a festival once, the rattle deep and throaty. Looking down at Felix, she realised that she could hear it each time his chest rose and fell. He was leaning against her, his head turned towards her stomach. His eyes were closed and pinched.

Suddenly very afraid that he’d fall unconscious, she tapped his cheek.

“Hey, what did Sylvain mean?” she asked, while a mantra of stay awake, stay awake, please look at me, ran through her head.

His eyes blinked open and he slowly glanced up at her before he mumbled, “Our promise? After...Glenn, we said that...we’d die together.”

Glenn, his brother. Felix had been fourteen when the tragedy happened, so he would have still been a kid when he’d made that promise. Annette didn’t know what to think about two boys swearing an oath like that so they wouldn’t have to deal with familial grief again. After all, Sylvain and Felix were close enough to be real brothers.

She had no words for it, so she said nothing.

Instead, she started to babble. “You’re going to be o-okay, Sylvain will get Mercie and, and she’ll heal you then you’ll be all better. You can go fight anyone you want, destroy all the dummies in the training yard. Oh—you can also scowl at his Highness some more, make sure he stays a good King, right? Just stay awake, and you’ll be fine.”

She continued to chatter about anything that came to mind, but then she felt a gloved hand gently touch her face. Her stream of words cut off and she stared at Felix as he cupped her cheek. Whimpering, she reached up to cover his hand with her own, turning her head enough to press back into his palm.

A smile pulled at his lips in response and a dark feeling bubbled in her chest. He was giving her the softest smile she’d ever seen from him, gentler then when she’d caught him looking at her when she sang her stupid library song. She hated that she was only seeing it now. Feeling his lifeforce slowly slipping away, it only made her want to scream and cry.

“Annette.”

She swallowed thickly at the tenderness in his voice and forced herself to meet his eyes.

Felix was still looking at her like that, like she was the only thing he could see, as gentle as a summer breeze. Maybe she was, she thought numbly, looking at how pale he’d gotten. Blood trickled from his mouth in uneven intervals, and she could already see it matting his hair.

“You’re going to be okay,” she insisted.

He shook his head, the movement small. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” she snapped. “You don’t get to say that. You’re going to be fine.”

“Annette,” he said again, coughing wetly. “Sing for me?”

His question was quiet, barely there, but it broke her heart. She didn’t want to, not here, not now, and a sob finally burst from her throat. Tears streaming down her face, she laced the fingers of her free hand with his. She wasn’t going to deny him this.

Her voice shaking and watery, she managed to sing Steaks and Cakes.

She didn’t know why she picked that one. Maybe because it was the first one that he’d heard, all those years ago among flowers and humid air.

Annette hadn’t even finished before his eyes started to droop, a content smile taking over his face. Unable to stop herself, she bent over him, and pressed her lips to his forehead, kissing his brow softly.

It lasted for a beat before she broke away, pleading, “Don’t leave me.”

His chest heaved and rattled with every inhale, each shallower than the last. He lightly squeezed her fingers again.

She pulled back to see that he’d opened his eyes, a hazy film over them. He only seemed half present, but he still looked so soft, it hurt.

He opened his mouth, but his breath cut off and he suddenly gasped, more blood dripping down from his lips.

A cold feeling washed over her when she realised that he was drowning, drowning on his own blood—and she can’t help him.

She tried to, Goddess dammit, she tried.

Pressing her hand harder against his chest, she pushed as much Faith into clearing his lungs as she could, just for a moment for him to breathe. As her magic rushed through him, vanishing some of the blood, he gasped a deep inhale for one blessed moment, before he started to wheeze again.

Jerking, he placed a hand over hers, staring up at her with a clarity that had been slipping from his face.

“Don’t,” he told her, his tone insistent and urgent.

She stared at him. Don’t? Don’t what? Try and save him?

A surge of anger flared and she opened her mouth to snap at him, but he wheezed again and moved his hand to her face, still looking at her like he was pleading her to listen.

So she did, closing her mouth with a click.

“Don’t…lose yourself," he rasped, his voice rougher than gravel.

His glove pressed down on her cheek for a moment more before he slumped back against her legs, like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. His grip slackened and fell away.

She stared down at him, speechless as what he’d been trying to tell her sunk in. He was telling her not to mourn him, to not get lost in her grief like Dimitri had.

To let him go.

He didn’t believe he’d survive.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered, her tears falling on his face and rolling down his cheeks like they were his own.

“You’ve fought your whole life,” she reminded him as her voice started to rise and she found herself yelling at him. “Don’t you dare give up now!”

He slowly blinked at her, a complicated mix of apology and resignation crossing his face. For a moment, she thought she saw a spark of determination, but it vanished when he winced and coughed again. His chin and neck were completely stained with blood, gleaming in the midday sun. Hearing and feeling his breathing shutter and rattle wetly in his chest, she realized that he was running out of time.

What she’d done was only a temporary fix.

She couldn't heal him, not with her skill level. If she tried, she could very well kill him, since the lung was so delicate.

“Please,” she whispered again, pressing her forehead against his. “Please stay with me.”

He sighed in response, his hot breath hitting her face with far less force then it should.

She sobbed, harsh and painful. She didn’t want to give up on him, didn’t want to let him go, but it was looking more and more like she didn’t have a choice.

She was just about to fall deeper into her anguish when the sound of heavy hoofbeats made her ears twitch. Bolting upright, she looked around wildly, searching for its source. Her heart soared when Sylvain’s great horse tore around a street corner and raced towards them, Mercie hanging onto him tightly from behind.

Seeing them, hope bubbled in her throat and a startled laugh escaped her.

Felix was going to be okay! Mercie was here now, she could heal him!

Quickly, she looked back down at Felix, a wide smile on her face, but it dropped just as fast. His eyes were no longer open and his head rolled limpy away from her, his hair spilling in a matted clump on her legs. She could barely hear him breathing. It had sounded so loud in the empty air, and now that it was almost gone, all she wanted was to hear it again.

***

Something nudged her shoulder, gentle but insistent. Inhaling sharply, she lifted her head off the armrest and blinked blurrily at the frowning face leaning over her.

Sighing, Mercie straightened, placing her hands on her hips. “That can’t be comfortable.”

Still not fully awake, Annette only hummed and stretched, her arms popping as she reached outwards. She sighed in relief and slumped back against the plush chair. Blinking the last of her sleepiness away, she looked around the room and remembered where she was.

Felix looked small in the bed beside her.

She never thought she’d say that, but it was true—it wasn’t even a particularly big bed, but he seemed so diminished. His hair was loose, the dark locks cascading around his head on the pillow like a shadowy halo. He was clean and dressed in loose night clothes, his expression softened by sleep.

He was too still, the restless energy she’d come to appreciate about him nowhere to be found.

She was beyond grateful that Mercie had been able to save him at all.

Sylvain had carried him back to the castle, placing him in a private suite near the infirmary, so he could recover in peace, but also allowing Mercie to come and go easily. The room wasn’t that large, but the bed, a desk and a couple of chairs and side tables fit easily into its space.

“There’s a perfectly good bed just down the hall, why don’t you use it?” Mercie prodded gently, drawing her out of her thoughts.

“I’m okay,” Annette insisted, rolling her neck to ease the ache that had formed there.

Mercie just regarded her for a moment, her eyes kind, but insightful. “Felix isn’t going anywhere. You can sleep for a couple hours in an actual bed. You know he wouldn’t want you pushing yourself.”

Annettes eyes flicked down to her lap.

“I know,” she admitted, then bit her lip. “But Mercie...I have to be here.”

“I know, Annie,” her friend sighed again, relenting as she moved away in a swish of skirts.

Walking to the other side of the bed, so she could work unhindered, she checked on Felix. Annette righted herself in her chair, watching silently as Mercie went about doing her job.

“It’s been two days, Mercie.” She couldn’t bring herself to be surprised by how empty she sounded.

Her friend paused in the middle of prying back the gauze on his chest, glancing up at her. Going back at her task, she said, “Give him time. Anyone would be resting this much if they had as heavy of a healing as he needed.”

Annette knew that she was right, but she hated how unsure of his recovery she was. His injury had torn the tissue of his lungs, and the chances of him reopening it were small, but great enough that it ate at her.

She wasn’t alone in those fears. Since the battle, people had been in and out, as if to assure themselves that he was still okay.

Unlike them, Annette had stayed, unmoving. She knew she had no right sitting with Felix for so long, especially with all that needed to be done, but she wouldn’t allow herself to leave; not when he’d taken the injury for her. No one had forced her out yet, so she situated herself in her chair and settled.

When visiting, Ingrid had given her a funny look, but Sylvain had adopted a knowing smile, occasionally adding a wink. She wasn’t sure she liked the look, but she’d take it over being forcibly dragged away to sleep or attend war meetings.

Now, as Mercie peeled away his bandages to see the pink scar, Felix didn’t even stir. Her hands glowed as she checked his lungs, but Annette couldn’t look away. The scar was thin, barely even there, but it stood out against his pale chest, an unwanted reminder.

She shivered looking at it. If the assassin had managed to pierce his armour and hit just a little higher and a bit to the left…they wouldn’t be sitting there.

She swallowed harshly, the action painful.

Dragging her eyes away, she stubbornly watched Mercie’s ministrations. In quick, practiced movements, she cleaned the area and applied a new bandage.

Stepping back, her kind eyes fell on Annette.

“At least eat something," she pleaded, then left, closing the door after her with a soft click.

Annette watched her go, her mouth twisting into a guilty frown. She knew that was true in theory, but her stomach felt as listless as the rest of her. Besides, it felt like the moment she left Felix’s side, the worst would happen—he’d give up his fight, or wake up to an empty room without someone watching over him. Without her.

Shifting so she was properly holding his hand, she rubbed circles just below his knuckles, humming to distract herself. Within minutes, it turned to full on singing, her quiet lyrics filling the air. It was the same song she’d composed for Felix after his father's death, using a tune that had always calmed her. She closed her eyes and lost herself to the melody.

When she reached the final verse, the hand in hers twitched, his fingers slowly curling around her, squeezing gently.

Not willing to hope, she looked at him, her actions slowed by the cold grip of uncertainty of what she'd find.

Finally, her fears were unfounded.

After hours alone with her thoughts, wishing for him to just wake up, she was granted it, even if his warm amber gaze was still hazy and bleary from sleep. His head turned towards her, his eyes soft, Felix stared back, his eyelids low and heavy, but open—awake.

“Please tell me my singing woke you up in a good way?” she asked, the sound of unshed tears choking her voice.

A wordless sound she took for agreement rumbled in his throat, and he blinked sluggishly at her. He looked around the room, a frown pulling at his face as he took in his surrounding.

“Where…?” he croaked, his voice rough from disuse.

Reaching out, she grabbed the glass of water on the bedside table, and held it to his lips. As he drank, she explained.

“Castle Blaiddyd.”

Draining the glass, he let her take it away before looking around again. His eyes flicked to specific areas and items before he sighed heavy, sinking back against his pillow again.

“We won?”

“Yup,” she told him cheerfully. “Cornelia’s dead. The Kingdom is ours again.”

Felix hummed and his lips ticked upwards, his features softening again. Turning to observe her, his eyes looked so unburdened, clear and gentle as a spring day.

Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she couldn’t maintain eye contact any more. She looked down at her hands, which only made her aware that she was still holding his hand.

Babbling an apology, she started to let go, her face burning, but his grip tightened. “Don’t.”

She gulped and nodded, surrendering a fight that she hadn’t really wanted to win.

“You really scared me.”

The words had escaped her lips before she could stop them. For a split second, she was horrified, but she cut off the apology that had been on her tongue.

Felix blinked, looking a bit like she’d hit him on the head. A sigh rattled in his chest, and he rolled his head a little more towards her so he could look directly at her face.

Rubbing his thumb back and forth on the back of her hand, he said, “I didn’t mean to.”

Annette shook her head. Feelings that had felt so far away for days bubbled in her throat, threatening to overwhelm her. Her eyes stung and her breath hitched.

“You were bleeding so much. Your lung collapsed and, and—”

She scrubbed angrily at her wet cheeks. Trying to get herself under control, the last words she would have heard from him circled to the forefront of her mind.

Glaring at him, she snapped, “Don’t you ever tell me not to mourn you again, you understand me? I couldn’t bear it if I lost you.”

His jaw fell, staring at her in complete shock.

A beat passed and she realized what she’d just said. Flushing even hotter than before, she scrambled for a way to play it off, but he huffed a response before she could.

“I never said not to mourn.”

She blinked, panic forgotten. “But—”

He cut her off, his tone sharp. “I meant, don’t lose who you are. For you to keep living, not to not grieve. I’d never tell someone that. It’s just—”

Felix cleared his throat, and this time, it was his turn to look away. “If it had been you, I don’t think I could have.”

Annette blinked. His cheeks were dusted pink and he wasn’t looking at her, glaring at the ceiling like it offended him.

Slowly, it dawned on her what he had just admitted to. He was saying that if she’d been the one dying, he would have lost it. He always went on about how Dimitri was just a beast and his way of remembering the dead was sickening, and now he was saying that her death would have destroyed him.

It was something he couldn’t deal with, so he took her place.

“Hypocrite,” she blurted and he looked back at her, his brows jumping up in surprise.

Tears freely flowing down her face, she barrelled on. “You keep saying chivalry is stupid, and not to die for someone else’s sake, and then you go and—and—” she cut off with a sob, her words getting stuck in her throat.

Felix looked alarmed, his eyes widening. He tried to sit up, but winced and quickly flopped back against the pillows. His brows tightened in frustration and he yanked on her arm.

“Come here.”

“W-what?”

He tugged on her arm again, a little more gently.

“Come here,” he repeated, more insistent.

He jerked his chin to the spot on the bed beside him.

It was improper, and she was still mad at him, she shouldn’t do what he was asking. But her eyes felt heavy, and she could feel every hour spent in that chair with the stiffness of her limbs.

Sniffing, she rubbed at her face again before climbing onto the bed with him, flopping down on the soft sheets. Her weight made the bed dip and he inhaled sharply, gritting his teeth as his hand reflexively came up to brace his ribs.

She bolted upright again. “Oh my Goddess! I hurt you, I'm so sorry. I’ll get Mercie, she can—”

“Stop,” he snapped. “I’m fine, calm down.”

She looked at him doubtfully, but really didn’t have the energy to argue with him. More carefully settling beside him, she at first put her head on the pillow, but the arm he’d warped around her back pulled her closer so she moved to his shoulder.

Worrying her lip with her teeth, she stared, “Are you sure—”

“Yes,” he said, his tone a little grumpy. “Stop worrying so much.”

She pouted, but relented, inhaling deeply. After all the hours she’d spent in the chair, sitting vigil over him, she was sore and tense. All she wanted to do was relax into the mattress, reveling in how soft it was, but she couldn’t. She felt coiled and pulled tight, waiting for further chiding. After a couple minutes of silence, she realized that Felix wasn’t going to, seeming content to just hold her close. Annette sunk into that peace, finding that she really liked it, and was startled by how much. Silence hung over them, holding a comfort she’d never felt before.

As they laid there, she started to relax like she hadn’t since the morning she’d woken in her tent, feeling like she couldn’t breathe from fear. The hand resting on her waist felt warm and comfortable, and the way he was slowly rubbing circles on her dress with his thumb started to lull her into a peaceful haze.

Peeking through her lashes, she saw that he was watching her. Foggily, she realized that she’d seen that look before. It was the same look he gave her, slowly dying in her arms, soft and gentle, like she was the only thing that mattered.

Her eyes fluttered shut, a melodious hum escaping her.

On the cusp of sleep, she felt something press against her forehead, soft and warm. His lips brushed over his skin as he murmured, “Good night, Annette.”

She snuggled closer and a smile tugged at her lips, feeling safe and wanted like she hadn’t in a long, long time.

***

His head feeling like it was in a fog, Felix watched as Annette fell asleep, her humming transitioning to a steady rise and fall of her chest. One small hand gripped his nightshirt, pulling herself closer to him. Her fiery hair pooled around her head, framing her face and looking too bright against the dark smudges under her eyes.

Looking at them, he wondered how long he’d been asleep, and a twinge of guilt pulled at his heart.

He never meant to worry her so much.

The look of pure fear and anguish on her face as he’d been bleeding out invaded his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Seeing the Assassin going for her had been terrifying, and he would do the same again, every time. A world without Annette in it was one he couldn’t imagine living in.

A soft snuffle brought him out of his thoughts and he smiled as she mumbled and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. A lock of hair fell onto her face and he reached up and tucked it back behind her ear. She hummed what sounded like a very familiar tune and nuzzled closer.

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head at how cute she was. He never thought he’d find someone so endearingly adorable but here he was, completely ensnared by this tiny but powerful woman. He was her captive, with the keys in hand, free to leave at any point, but he knew he never would.

Tightening his grip, he hugged her close, kissing her brow again. It was only fair, she’d done it to him. As they laid there, Felix couldn't help but think that he would want this to be his every morning, waking up with her beside him. To listen to her songs echoing in the halls of his childhood home, watching her bake and dance around the castle’s kitchens.

It was a ludicrous idea, one he really shouldn’t be entertaining.

The click of the door unlatching made his ears twitch and he glanced up.

Balancing a tray on her hip, Mercedes eased the door closed after her. She took one step into the room then paused, blinking once at the picture they made.

Felix felt his ears burn slightly, but he refused to be the one to look away first.

Mercedes laughed, a soft chuckle.

“Finally,” she said, looking down at her friend with an exasperated, but fond, smile.

Shaking her head, she moved to place the food ladened tray onto the bedside table next to him. He blinked, a bit surprised that was her reaction to finding them like this.

“What do you mean?”

A sly smile pulled at her lips. “Annette hasn’t left this room in two days.”

What? That couldn’t be right—she had other duties and the war hadn’t ended just because he’d been injured. There should be hundreds of things that needed to be done over sitting with him.

His thoughts must have shown on his face because Mercedes nodded. “The only time I could get her to leave was to use the ladies room.”

“She slept in here? On that chair? Those chairs look old and flat.”

“So they are.”

The implications of that was not lost on him. Looking back at the sleeping woman, the bags under her eyes made a lot more sense.

“Damn it, Annette,” he muttered.

Mercedes was ruthless and cheerfully added, “She barely ate too, that’s what this was for.” She tapped a finger on the dinner tray. “However, since she’s finally sleeping on a bed, I’m not going to wake her. Make sure that she does, will you? I’ll go grab something for you.”

Felix wasn’t quick enough to respond before she shut the door, leaving him alone with Annette again.

Bewildered, he looked down at her, thoughts whirling. How content she seemed, snuggled as close to him as possible, a smile on her lips.

His earlier thought was ludicrous, but one…that might not be as far-fetched as he assumed.

He eased back into the pillows, drinking in the feeling of her lying against him. Still feeling like he had heavy fog hanging over him, he closed his eyes and dozed for a bit, but roused to eat the soup that Mercedes brought for him.

He’d had to sit up to do so, careful of Annette. She complained at the shift, mumbling something he couldn't catch, and ended up curled on his lap instead. Leaning heavily against the headboard, he was lightheaded and knew he should be laying down, but it wasn’t like he could eat like that.

It didn’t take him long to polish it off, the more he ate, the hungrier he felt. Just as he was finishing, the weight on his legs stirred.

Smiling, he set aside his bowl and waited as Annette snuggled against him, her eyes blinking open.

When she yawned, he couldn’t help saying, “I thought you’d sleep for longer.”

Stretching and rolling on to her back, she blinked sleep-heavy eyes, peering blurilly up at him. “W-what?”

He snorted and shook his head. Goddess, she was adorable. She looked like a sleepy kitten, but he wisely kept that observation to himself.

“Mercedes told me something interesting,” he said. “Something about you not taking care of yourself?”

“I—um…” With all the big words and ideas in her head, she couldn’t find any suitable enough.

Not leaving her time to find any, he reached out and picked up the other bowl on the bedside table, this one porridge.

“Eat,” he insisted, shoving it towards her.

Sheepishly, she took it from him and obediently took a couple of bites.

He watched her, glaring until she’d eaten at least half of it. When it was mostly gone, she made a face and put it down on the other side table.

Good enough, he grudgingly conceded.

“That’s my girl,” he told her. “Now, why not?”

Her cheeks tinged pink again and she pulled her legs up so she could hug her knees against her chest. She fiddled with the material of her loose gown, mumbling into her shins.

“I didn’t feel hungry.”

He frowned. “How does that work? It’s been days, Annette, why wouldn't you eat?”

She shook her head sharply. “I’ve been too worried about you!”

“That’s no excuse.”

Her gaze snapped up to his, her mouth falling open. “Excu—you almost died!”

Now she was making even less sense. “What’s that got to do with—”

She continued over him, like he hadn’t even said anything, tears pooling in her eyes again, but not spilling.

“You almost died. You were bleeding out and I couldn’t do anything! I couldn't heal you, I—”

“You were there,” he cut her off, raising his own voice.

She jerked and blinked rapidly. “But—”

He took her hand, squeezing it to his chest.

“You were there for me,” he repeated, much softer.

Her lips trembled and she sniffed, blue eyes bright, but she didn’t stop him as he continued, “If I had died, I wouldn’t have been alone. That’s all I could have asked for.”

A part of him recoiled at admitting this so readily, but the foggy half of his brain apparently didn’t care.

Her mouth opened and closed, drawing his attention to her lips. He had a sudden urge to sit up and kiss her senseless, make her forget the worries of the last few days.

He quickly drew his eyes back up to hers. Okay, he wasn’t thinking the best, but he wasn’t so loopy on blood loss and pain to spring that on her.

Good thing, too, for Annette looked overwhelmed and ready to start crying.

Feeling her silence like a blade to his neck, he admitted, “Annette, I’m sorry that I scared you, but I don’t regret it.”

He paused then added like he hadn’t already dug himself a deep enough hole, “I can’t live in a world without you in it.”

She jerked like he’d slapped him.

He had just enough time to regret saying anything when she snapped, “What makes you think I could?”

Felix blinked, staring at her. Did she just…?

Annette seemed to realize what she’d implied at the same time.

She flushed and started to stutter, “Oh, um—I—”

“Did you mean that?” he asked quietly.

Her jaw snapped shut and her face turned the purest colour of pink he’d ever seen. “Yes.”

He grinned. “Good.”

Pushing himself off his pillows, even though his chest screamed in protest, he gently cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to hers. He was probably rougher than he should have been, urgent and wanting, sliding his lips against hers, but he didn’t care. Despite the feeling in his gut, he forced himself to keep it chaste, lips closed.

At first, she froze, and he started to panic. But when he withdrew, she grabbed the back of his neck and returned the kiss, just as passionate.

He huffed a laugh against her, completely fine with this unexpected reaction.

Unable to ignore his protesting lungs, he eased them backwards, so that he was leaning against the headboard. Annette followed without protest, kissing him with abandon.

When they finally broke off, Annette sat back with a thump and a stupefied look on her face.

“Uh…” she hummed, just staring at him. “...Hi.”

He laughed. That was such an Annette reaction, it was ridiculous.

"I love you,” he blurted out.

Her eyes snapped back to focus and she squeaked, her face flushing even darker, if that was possible.

Immediately backtracking and giving her an out, he shook his head, fighting the wave of dizziness that came with it. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it back.”

“No! I love you too!” she said in a rush, then looked as startled as he felt. “I never expected to hear those words said to me, ever.”

He stared at her, stunned. She hadn’t thought that someone would love her? How? He’d been completely enthralled with her for years, even when he’d been in fervent denial. He’d been hoping that she’d return his feelings, but this...

Reaching out, Felix took one of her hands in his, completely endeared by how she turned to hide her face in the crook of her elbow.

Rubbing soothing circles with his thumb, he said, “I can say it again, if you want.”

She peeked up at him, her blue eyes bright.

On impulse, he added, “As long as you’ll let me.”

Squeezing his hand back, she smiled. “I could never tire of that.”

-End-