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Snow made sparring more challenging. Byleth already knew this, but to do so with Felix only a month after she’d awoken from her five-year slumber was much harder than she’d imagined.
It didn’t help that the weather had been relentless that year, and missing Red Wolf Moon meant missing wolf-hunting season, which would’ve supplied their soldiers and allies with the pelts and meat they needed to survive the cold. The guilt tugged at her mind at all times. So many from both the church and the Kingdom had quickly joined the cause with her name, yet she had nothing to show for it besides barely fending off an Empire assault.
Perhaps sparring Felix grew difficult because he’d grown stronger, or that Byleth had just grown weaker. No matter the excuse, her chill-stiffened muscles struggled to stay mobile against her opponent’s relentless strength.
“You’re slow.” He lunged swiftly, barely giving her time to parry his sword to the side and force an opening. His body pivoted with the movement, however, and their swords clashed before she could move forward on the offensive.
“It’s called a warm-up, Felix,” she panted.
“Maybe you’ll finally buy a coat, or make actual use of the one you already have,” he smirked and sliced at her sleeves that dangled unused from her shoulders. “Or admit that I’ve finally surpassed you.”
“Nah,” she said. “Match isn’t over, Fraldarius, and I doubt you’d accept victory that easily.”
“You’re right,” he chuckled before assuming a ready stance and waiting for her to move first.
Byleth almost accepted his bait out of spite until she felt something tickle her hair. Old habits kicked in, and she spun towards their intruder, which in turn startled Felix. Her sword swung for whatever had snuck up on them, but met only empty air, then a small fishing line. The culprit, a small tuft of twigs, leaves, and red berries, fell to her feet.
“Woah, woah! Easy!” Sylvain yelled from above. The paladin had somehow managed to climb to the roof with a fishing pole without alerting either Felix or Byleth to his presence. Maybe Byleth really had lost her touch.
“Sylvain, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Felix shouted.
With that, Sylvain leapt from the roof, dusted himself off, and held his hands up in defeat. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you! You two must’ve been really distracted.” He eyed the severed end of his fishing line. “How did you cut this with a wooden sword?”
“What do you want?” Felix asked. “We’re busy, if you haven’t noticed.”
Byleth’s eyes drifted to the small green shrub lying in the snow. “And what is that?” she added.
“Oh, this?” Sylvain smirked and picked it up, twirling it in his fingers. “Glad you asked. Annette and Merci tasked me with getting everyone into a more... festive ...spirit.”
Right, the mages’ mission to lift everyone’s spirits with an improvised winter celebration. The Lions had reunited, as had many of their allies, but Dimitri was far from a kingly state, their supplies ran short, and the monastery’s defenses were unprepared for another Empire incursion. The millenium-old walls had been worse for wear after five years of war and neglect, but their fortress, like their resolve to carry on, held together.
Mercedes and Annette had immediately called for a celebration of Byleth’s return, though she argued they had many more reasons to celebrate. The Millenium Festival marked their reunion, but the decorations, the music, the feasts, and the bright firelight that contrasted with the white snow had been absent. The two women were making up for that now, and most of the Lions had agreed to help.
“Sylvain, you know you’re supposed to hang up decorations, not flail them around on a fishing rod, right?”
“Ah, but this isn’t a decoration, my good friend.” He tied the bundle to the freshly-cut end of the fishing line and wiggled it between Felix and Byleth. “This, here, is a mistletoe.”
Byleth didn’t know what any of that meant, but if Felix’s reaction was any indication, it wasn’t any good. His annoyed narrow eyes flew open, and his cheeks that surely must have been freezing in the falling snow flushed red.
“See? Felix knows! I knew you’d-”
“Get lost, Sylvain.” Felix ducked away from the plant as if it was a deadly poison.
“Not until you two follow the tradition.” Sylvain’s unyielding grin told Byleth that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Few were immune to Felix’s sudden outbursts, and Sylvain was likely the most seasoned in navigating the swordsman’s temper.
Despite the dread hanging in the air, Byleth was curious. “What tradition?”
Felix spun around and pointed his glove in Sylvain’s face. “Don’t tell her!” He didn’t address Byleth directly, but nodded to her. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing our stupid traditions.”
“Great idea, Felix, why don’t you tell her!” Sylvain nudged his friend as his voice nearly sang. Their moods couldn’t be more opposite, but Byleth knew whose taste aligned more with her own.
Felix grunted. “Let’s just get back to training.”
In their brief repose, Byleth’s muscles had only stiffened by remaining stagnant. And she couldn’t deny her curiosity. “I’m not participating in any weird Faerghus traditions, but I should still know what they are.”
Sylvain’s smile grew all the way to his eyes while Felix scoffed with a look of betrayal. Maybe he wished that she’d push Sylvain to drop it. After a few tense moments, however, he yielded and turned back toward her. Even so, he kept his face turned away from her.
“When two people are caught under a mistletoe, the dumb tradition says they have to...kiss.”
“Oh,” was all Byleth could say in response. If Sylvain was watching her for a strong reaction, he wouldn’t get one. But that was only because her insides were imploding.
Sylvain wanted him to kiss her? Had he chosen them on purpose, or had it just been coincidence?
Did she... want to kiss Felix?
The man didn’t give her time to ponder the sensation any further. “But like I said, it’s dumb, it’s cold, and we’re busy. So get lost, Sylvain.”
“Oh, you’re busy . I see how it is.” He reeled in the mistletoe and swung it over his shoulder. “You two are the first to refuse, you know. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a sign. A mistletoe is an omen of peace and protection from death. They grow even in the harshest winter. The fact that some began sprouting on the shrubs throughout the monastery is good, no?”
Felix’s face flared red, either with seething anger or pure embarrassment. “Then go find more willing participants and tell Edelgard the war’s over because of some weeds. Leave us.”
Sylvain threw his hands up in defeat. “All right, all right, I surrender. Consent is important, anyways.” Before he pushed the training ground doors open, however, he turned and gave them one last of his dazzling smiles. “You never refused, though. All I heard were excuses.” And with that, he shrugged and moved through the doors.
“Don’t waste that fishing line, Sylvain, I’ll need it later!” Byleth shouted before the doors slammed shut. An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Byleth was sure her fingers had fused to her sword hilt. “My hands are freezing,” she said in an attempt to break the tension and turn the conversation elsewhere.
When his eyes met hers, however, he almost looked apologetic. He’d never apologized for his outbursts in the past, so why did he look so regretful now?
Oh.
Oh.
Her attempt to pull his attention away from the awkward situation appeared to work as he strode over to her and removed a glove. Atleast, it worked until his bare hand touched hers, and her cheeks flared with heat. Maybe it was just because his hand was exceptionally warm compared to hers, or maybe it was the sudden close proximity. Regardless, their brief reprieve from recent events was short-lived.
Felix pulled his hand away quickly. “Well, damn, of course they are. You’re gripping a wooden sword in the freezing snow, bare-handed. Will you buy some gloves already?”
“I suppose I’m not used to the cold.” She leaned her sword against a nearby pillar. Relieved that it hadn’t frozen stuck to her palm, she rubbed her now-free hands together for warmth. “It’s worse this year than I remember. Gloves are hard enough to come by, and I can’t...” she paused, recalling how many at the monastery were even less equipped for the cold. “I can’t let myself get comfortable yet.”
Felix sighed, still keeping arm’s distance from her. A moment later, he offered her both of his gloves. She was in the middle of exhaling warm breath against her hands and froze at his sudden gesture.
“Here, you’ll get warmer faster, then we can get back to work.”
He’d never demanded that she borrow anything of his before - not his coat, his gloves, and certainly not his sword. But she knew better than to leave him hanging for too long.
“Thank you,” she said before taking them. Her hands already felt warmer just holding the thick hide fabric. His gloves outsized her hands noticeably, and she didn’t miss the chuckle that came from him when the tips of the fingers flopped over.
But they were extremely warm. Instinctively, she clasped her hands together and brought them close to her face, and she inhaled the scent of pine and sword oil.
Was this how he always smelled?
“Felix?” she asked. He was doing everything in his power to not watch her, but his head turned toward her curiously. “You were right. Traditions are stupid,” she smirked.
His shoulders relaxed, and a half-smile to match her own replaced the scowl that had been present since Sylvain’s provocation. “I get why people have them, but there’s no point to just follow them blindly.”
“Even if they’re just for fun?” she asked.
“Sylvain should know better than to ask me to do something for fun .”
She smirked, “Yes, but he doesn’t know better than to push your buttons. There, I’d say he succeeded.”
Felix scoffed and turned away. As Byleth’s hands warmed, she realized she’d never really taken the time to notice how much her former students had grown. The one before her certainly had. He was taller and stronger, sure. She knew that enough from training with him, but he’d grown in his own mind as well. He’d hardened himself, likely from the war, yet at the same time his gaze had softened towards her and the other Blue Lions, save for Dimitri.
Maybe his vindication, knowing he’d been right all along about the prince, had brought with it a tragic sense of peace.
Back when the prince’s demons had begun to show themselves, Felix had been the only one she could approach about it without getting excuses or looks of pity. That was five years ago, though it still lived freshly in Byleth’s memory.
Five years. She’d seen the growth of her former students, but how had their view of her changed during her absence? How had Felix’s? If he’d thought her to be dead, perhaps he’d simply tucked away memories of her next to Glenn and sought out another rival to overcome. If he’d thought she lived, maybe he’d searched for her and had become more concerned and angry as time went on. Felix hadn’t volunteered which side he’d leaned toward yet, and truth be told, it didn’t matter to Byleth whether he’d believed her to be alive or dead. The fact that he was sparring with her now was enough of an answer.
She learned one more crucial piece of information - that the thought of kissing her made Felix absolutely flustered, not annoyed or irritated.
Despite how everything had changed, Felix remained a source of stability for her. Training with him brought her down to her humanity again, away from the realm of the goddess, nobles, and crests. A second thing she learned - the thought of kissing Felix made her flustered as well.
Amidst the realization, her hands had regained feeling. The growing impatience of her opponent made itself known in the way he paced with folded arms and tapped his bare fingers. Or maybe similar thoughts refused to leave his mind as well.
There was one way to find out.
When Byleth returned to Felix his gloves, she raised herself onto her toes, leaned in, and pecked her lips onto his cheek. He immediately pulled away like she’d just stabbed him, with an eyes-wide look of shock. His cheeks flushed red, and his sword fell from his grasp.
Byleth had seen Felix do many things when caught off guard, but she’d never seen him drop his weapon.
“Wh-what the hell was that for?!”
She retreated a step, doing her best to maintain her calm exterior. “As a thanks, and a way to fulfill that stupid tradition.”
He didn’t respond again, which made her second guess her own judgment. He’d looked like he’d wanted to kiss her, right? She hadn’t imagined the way he let her borrow his gloves, the way he watched her when they sparred.
“I-I’m sorry. I just thought that...you know what? Nevermind. I should go eat. The cold’s obviously getting to me.” She began to back away, but his bare hand caught her wrist. When she looked back in shock, his gaze was still fixated on the ground.
“It-it’s fine,” he croaked and cleared his throat before finally meeting her gaze. “But that’s not how the tradition goes.”
Byleth paused. Why did Felix suddenly care about the rules?
Unless…
“It doesn’t work with...just that.” He stepped closer, keeping a hold on her arm. “You have to…”
Oh.
Did he actually want to kiss her? The way his eyes held her screamed yes , with a taste of caution and a lingering question floating within them. So she answered with the smallest nod she could muster, afraid that moving too quickly would break whatever trance they’d found themselves in.
He didn’t move to touch her anywhere else, but heat flooded her every fiber as he leaned closer and tilted his head to the side. Her eyes closed themselves, overwhelmed at the sight, and then a warmth brushed across her lips. It was brief, if a little ticklish, and she responded in kind before the sensation quickly retreated.
Her eyes remained shut for too long, afraid of the image that would greet her. Would he look happy? Angry? She feared that he may have already turned his back and walked away before his calloused grip on her arm reminded her that he was still within reach.
Finally, her eyelids gained the strength to open, and indeed the sight would’ve made her heart race if it hadn’t been permanently unbeating. Felix watched her intently, searching her for emotions. Her self-expression was still muted, but he’d become one of the few people who could read her subtle changes, and she hoped that his intuition had remained with him after all those years.
What his eyes communicated, on the other hand, was as clear as day to her. Though he watched her, his gaze was soft with his eyelids hanging lightly. She cursed the snow that fell between the few inches of space between them, interrupting her view. She’d never denied that he was handsome in the same way she’d never deny his skills with a sword, yet now he looked to her almost as a lover would. Not quite open and comfortable enough to freely steal hazy glances, but enough to ask another question.
Is this really what you want?
A question that went unasked, as the words that came from him brought her thoughts to a halt. “Now it counts,” he spoke plainly, as if he were commenting on her sword technique.
They avoided one another's gaze once again, with his eyes darting down and hers upwards. She scanned the roof, suddenly paranoid that their prior company hadn’t completely left, and swore she saw a second, fresher disturbance in the snow that blanketed the roof. Whether the redhead would earn himself a few more weeks of stable duty wasn’t on the forefront of her mind, however, compared to the man retreating from her.
“I thought you hated traditions.” She turned her wrist in his grasp so she could return his hold, telling him he could stay if he liked.
Or possibly ask for more.
The thought of kissing him again, fully aware and able to better-prepare herself, erupted butterflies in her chest. She wondered if this was the closest she’d feel to a racing heartbeat.
“I do.” He kept his tone, but his expression held the same question as before. His voice dropped when he spoke again. “But I don’t...hate you.”
She tried to stop the snort that escaped from her nose to no avail, so her free hand came up to cover her face. Now Felix just looked offended, but the way his face continued to redden as he turned away told her that he wished he’d chosen his words better.
But she didn’t. Felix wasn’t the type of man to overthink his words. It was one of his traits that allowed him to be honest and insightful, even if his words stung. Regardless, she knew that I don’t hate you from Felix meant more than the words themselves.
Her grip on his wrist held firm, and she ran her thumb along the fabric of his sleeve. “I don’t hate you either, Felix.”
He seemed to just notice her touch, for his attention turned to their interlocked arms. Facing her again, he made her the flustered one when he slid his fingers down to take her hand instead. It surprised her how quickly he could turn the tables against her.
“Byleth…”
Familiarity hit her as he stepped closer again, only now his other hand caressed her shoulder, his warm gloves discarded somewhere in the snow. The gaze in his eyes, however, had shifted drastically. Where previously he approached her like a stray cat, now his eyes resembled a wolf - hungry and knowing exactly what he wanted. Her breath hitched, and she managed to rest her free hand against his waist. He was warm as always, but she swore he was shivering. No, trembling.
“Felix…”
Whatever words tried to spill from her were stopped, but not with the crashing of his lips against hers like she’d imagined. Instead, the doors to the training grounds burst open.
The wolf-like expression before her switched from hunger to anger. He pushed her away sharply, but she took no offense as she’d probably have done the same. Her attention turned to the entryway, where she expected to see Sylvain. She was partially correct, but the paladin wasn’t alone.
Ashe ran to the front and nearly collapsed into the snow, out of breath. “You aren’t going to believe this, Professor! I was scouting and-”
“Slow down, Ashe, you’re hyperventilating!” Mercedes patted his back and offered him water. Indeed, his face was beet red, and his breathing short. He panted as if he’d just run several miles up the mountain, which would be true if he’d been scouting.
“Let me finish.” He took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Professor, we won’t have to worry about blankets and pelts this winter, because a herd is approaching! A herd of...llamas!”
The surprise threw Byleth in many different mental directions. She suddenly became aware of her and Felix’s state. They’d tried to appear as if they’d just been sparring like any other day, yet their bare hands, long-abandoned swords, and fresh shoeprints in the snow gave away their close proximity only moments ago. She quickly scanned the crowd to see if anyone had picked up on those details. Ashe, though a skilled scout, was too winded and had let his senses drop within the safety of the monastery. Mercedes and Annette hadn’t noticed. So that just left-
Sylvain didn’t even try to hide the grin plastered on his face. He stood unnoticed in the back of the group, just so only Felix and Byleth would catch his gaze. Byleth felt heat rise to her face, but retained her well-practiced stoic facade. Felix, however, failed to hide his flustered annoyance, and his face grew brighter with every second. Luckily for him, the other students were only looking for their former professor’s reaction.
“We’ve never hunted those before,” Byleth said.
“You don’t hunt them!” Annette jumped to gain everyone’s attention. “You shepherd them and use their fleece to make blankets! They can even protect themselves and other livestock from wolves!”
“I don’t recall llamas being around when I was teaching.”
“They’re native to south Fodlan, where the climate is a little more friendly to them.” Sylvain finally broke his painfully teasing silence. “I guess the combination of the war in Alliance and Empire territory with the thinning human population around here drove them this far north.”
“That’s great news.” Byleth managed a small smile. One of her burdens - helping her friends and comrades survive the brutal winter - had been lifted.
“Yes!” Annette beamed. “No one will be cold this year!”
“Does this mean we’ll have to cancel our winter festival?” Mercedes asked.
For whatever reason, they looked to Byleth for an answer. She found the gesture sweet, that they still looked to her for guidance or permission for things she was barely involved in.
She already knew her answer, yet still scanned their faces. Annette and Mercedes begged with their eyes, and she resisted chuckling at their collective adorable nature. Ashe was beginning to regain his strength, seeming to just notice the other people present. It wouldn’t be long before he’d realize the awkwardness of the situation he’d just barged in on.
Sylvain looked to her curiously. She and Felix had practically cursed holiday traditions earlier, though Byleth had nothing against holidays or celebrations themselves. He was scanning her to see if she’d prioritize fun or practicality.
Well, why not both?
Finally, she turned to the man beside her. Felix waited for her reaction as well, though he’d probably only taken in half of the conversation. The flush of his cheeks had begun to subside, and he shot her a half-smile with folded arms. He knew the answer she was about to give, and was savoring the wait as much as she was.
“Of course not.” She could practically feel the collective sigh and smiled before facing the rest of her audience. “There are plenty of hands looking for busy work. I don’t see why we can’t handle both. Marianne is good with animals, so I’ll appoint her to lead.”
“We should clear a pasture for them, so they’ll know where a safe place is,” Annette added.
Ashe just laughed, seemingly still in disbelief of the day’s events. He definitely wasn’t the only one.
“Oh this is wonderful!” Mercedes clasped her hands together. “I hope they’ll come back next year, and the year after that! Imagine if it were safe enough to let children see them!”
“If they do, we’ll make it a-” the last word caught in Byleth’s throat, and her attention was immediately drawn to Sylvain’s smirk, somehow even larger than earlier. She swallowed and cleared her throat, looked to Felix, then back to Sylvain, and finished her thought, “-a tradition.”
Sylvain snickered, which confused everyone but the swordsmen. Felix’s flush quickly returned. It really wasn’t that hard to get a rise out of him, was it?
“Changed your mind on traditions, Professor?” Sylvain asked with his hands on his hips. “Could it be because some of them might work-”
“We got damn lucky,” Felix interrupted, letting loose his thoughts for the first time in this conversation. “You said it yourself: the war, the low population - that drove them here. Not your stupid mistletoe.”
“Oh, you took out the mistletoe!” Mercedes exclaimed. “You’re the best, Sylvain!”
“Just doing my duty.”
“Wait.” Annette tapped her chin. “Did Felix actually kiss someone!”
Byleth had done her work to keep the attention off of Felix thus far, but now he’d thrown himself to the wolves. Even Ashe’s eyes lit up. Byleth couldn’t help her amusement.
“No!” Felix shouted and stomped off to gather his sword. No one stopped him.
Sylvain, despite the endless dancing on Felix’s thin ice, came to his friend’s aid. “Alas, even I cannot get Felix to kiss anyone.” It wasn’t technically a lie.
“What about you, Professor?” Mercedes asked. “Did you kiss anyone?”
“I’m not kissing anyone who still calls me ‘Professor.’” Also not a lie, since Felix hadn’t addressed her by that title since their reunion.
“Good point,” Mercedes giggled. “I just can’t bring myself to call you by your first name yet.”
“Yeah,” Annette said. “You’ll always be our professor, first and foremost.”
“Well, someone’s kiss brought survivability to the monastery, that’s all I’m saying.” Sylvain shrugged his shoulders and shot both Felix and Byleth winks from the back.
Byleth could practically feel the heat radiating off of Felix, compared to the chilled falling snow around them. Luckily for them, Sylvain pushed it no further. Unluckily for them, the rest caught on.
“Felix, are you okay?” Mercedes asked. “You look like you’re catching a cold.”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Just want to get back to training. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a war.”
“I suppose we should go count the herd’s numbers,” Ashe said, “and start learning how to use their fleece.”
“Oh! I’ll come!” Annette skipped after him.
Mercedes eyed Felix suspiciously, not in the way Sylvain had, but like a concerned mother. She looked to Byleth, almost to communicate, make sure he takes care of himself , and Byleth affirmed her with a nod. Sylvain was the last to leave, simply offering the pair one last wink and a salute before closing the doors to the training grounds.
Being alone with Felix once more, they couldn’t ignore what had happened. Her exposed skin suddenly forgot all about the cold, and the supposedly fearless Ashen Demon couldn’t bring herself to look in the eyes of the man who’d kissed her.
“I should go, too,” she said. “I need to ask Marianne to take on her role and...other things.”
Felix was silent as she retrieved her training sword and hung it on the weapon rack where it would be protected by the roof’s overhang.
Perhaps he was still as flustered as she was, or he’d lost his courage to act. Or perhaps...he’d regretted it all.
Before she reached the large double doors, however, a firm hold pulled at her wrists and spun her around. Amber eyes met hers again, with a familiar hungry expression.
“Before you go,” he hummed, only audible by their proximity, “just know that I…”
He took a moment to search for the right words, his darting pupils betraying his thoughts. In the end, he gave up on talking and simply kissed her. Damn him for catching her off-guard again, but she wouldn’t hesitate a second time. She pulled her wrists free in favor for grasping his fur collar. Soon she felt his hands at her waist, and knew he wouldn’t retreat.
So warm. He was so warm, and suddenly surviving the harsh war-torn winter didn’t feel so improbable.