Chapter Text
The first day of class, Annette made certain to arrive the earliest, take her seat in the front, and save the spot beside her for Mercie. As the rest of the Blue Lions slowly ambled in, she handed out her leftover candies with cheery smiles and warm hellos.
The mean sword boy prowled in last — the same boy who’d blown off her greetings with a dismissive wave of the hand and a gruff get out of my way — and Annette sent him the iciest glare she could muster. (She didn't hand him a candy.)
Their professor arrived shortly thereafter, a young, navy-haired woman who introduced herself as Byleth, and thus began the school year.
The curriculum, which Byleth had tailored to everyone's strengths, was as Annette expected — furthering personal strengths (Reason theory for her), while preparing her to become a competent officer. Byleth informed the students they’d soon all be in charge of leading their own battalions. Annette wasn't surprised to hear the grumble that came from the back of the class, where her least sociable and personable classmate was perched. Felix was his name, apparently.
What she didn't expect, one week into instruction, was when Professor Byleth handed her a training axe.
"Uhhh…" she drawled, dumbly, her eyes darting between the heavy weapon and her professor.
"I'm told House Dominic holds axe tournaments in the summers," explained Byleth, tone flat, leaving Annette to wonder how she could have possibly known. "I take it you have some experience, then?"
Hesitating, Annette looked between the blunt weapon and her professor, then swallowed thickly. "Well, um…My father taught me a little bit when I was growing up, but I really don't think I'm strong enough.”
(Had her father been home more often, rather than spending all of his time tutoring the young prince, Annette might have actually excelled with the axe. She chose to keep that to herself, of course.)
“I've always been much better at magic, anyway,” she added, hoping that would be enough to dissuade the stoic professor from entrusting clumsy-old-her with something so heavy and dangerous. She’d made messes out of far smaller things, after all.
Alas, her efforts bore no fruit, for now she was at the training ground each evening to improve her skill with axes.
The same training ground frequented by the grumpy swordsman.
"Spar with me," he said a day before the mock battle, and Annette felt her stomach plummet as she turned.
"W-what?"
Felix’s amber eyes were fixed, carnivorously, on hers. It made her shiver. "You heard me."
Annette blinked — she most certainly had heard him, but that hardly warranted such a snarky response. She was also hardly prepared to face someone as honed as Felix.
"With…with the axe?"
He nodded, fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade; it was clear he craved a challenge, one Annette wasn't confident she could provide.
"You've been practicing for days. It's time you put that training to the test, if you ever wish to learn what to improve on."
"But I'm so much better at magic — you'll destroy me!"
"It's important to diversify your skills. Never be satisfied with being single-faceted. Besides — " Something in his expression shifted, and he cocked his head to the side. "What kind of attitude is that?"
She blinked. Seriously? Who was he to chide her about attitude?
When it dawned on her, Annette's temper flared. He was mocking her. For how she was. For being positive.
Scowling, she settled into her shaky battle stance. Right now Annette didn't care if she won or lost — no, she just wanted to teach this snide little grump a lesson.
"Fine," she snapped, "have at you."
The battle didn't last long, but the outcome was not in the least what she expected.
Felix lunged at her, deft and quick, and Annette had to twist awkwardly to block both of his well-placed strikes. She spun with her momentum, and countered with a wide-arcing swing that forced him to leap backward.
Annette left him no room to recover. She lifted her hand and quickly conjured Wind, catching him square in the chest.
"Oof — !" Felix grunted as he thudded heavily onto the sawdust floor.
Annette gently touched the tip of her axe to his chest, smiling down at him primly. Felix's glare was furious.
"You cheated."
Annette made her best attempt at emulating Felix’s goading smirk. "What — was magic off limits? But as you said, it's important to diversify your skills," she told him, retracting her outstretched weapon. "If you can't dodge a spell, you surely can't dodge an axe!"
Felix rose to his feet and snatched up his displaced training sword.
"Again," he barked.
Annette backed away.
"Nope, no can do, sorry! I've got kitchen duty with Ashe. See you tomorrow!"
She made sure to keep her attitude as unbearably positive as possible while she turned around and proudly marched out the double doors. Felix would simply have to live with the fact that he was now 0-and-1 against sweet little Annette Dominic.
Their sparring session hadn't taught her much about what she needed to improve on, but now she was fairly certain that Felix Fraldarius hated her guts.
~-~
“So, 0-and-1 against sweet little Annette Dominic.”
Felix's knuckles turned white at his hips. “I’ll kill you.”
Sylvain barked a laugh loud enough to draw the professor's sharp gaze. They'd just crossed the threshold into the Red Canyon, and the thieves' den was coming up. They were supposed to keep quiet. Ingrid hit him.
Moments later they were laying siege to the camp, Professor Byleth leading the charge. Her strikes were calculated, precise — non-lethal.
So that was her game: force the students to acclimate to the killing early on. A wise plan, he'd give her that.
Unlike most of his classmates, however, Felix wouldn't be rattled by the thought of taking a life.
"Finished already?" he grunted, kicking the impaled thief off his blade. "I was hoping for more of a challenge."
As he forged ahead, the grim musings of his new classmates could be heard above the din of battle, no matter how hard he tried to tune them out. Most mumbled hollow apologies, quick prayers for the lives they claimed — for most, he deduced, these were their first kills. Even the boar prince, within whom the beast had lived relatively dormant since the rebellion, muttered something terse and regretful.
But then, above the somber voices and the clashing of steel, Felix heard the whizz of an incoming Wind spell. He watched as the archer taking aim at him was blasted by the clear magic, collapsing to the weathered rock, dead.
"I did it!" chimed a contrastingly chipper voice; Felix turned, seeing the tiny ball of energy appear beside him. "See? I'm a great fighter!"
Felix didn't know who Annette was seeking validation from. Him, the professor, someone else perhaps. He also didn’t particularly care right now.
So he ignored her, setting his sights on the bandit leader up ahead.
"Felix? Hey, wait up!"
He didn't expect to be followed. Nor did he prefer to be.
"What?" he asked, and perhaps a touch too sharply.
Annette recoiled, eyes growing wide, lips parting in shock before closing into a pouty frown.
"Where do you think you're going? Alone? The professor said to stay close!"
"If you're so concerned about obeying the professor, then why are you following me?"
"I thought you needed help! And look — I got that archer for you. It looked like you didn't see him." Annette beamed up at Felix, grinning for whatever reason.
He grunted something inaudible in reply, turning back toward the oncoming brigade of thieves. Felix heard the unmistakably toneless voice of their professor behind them, barking out orders to the other students.
"I don't need your help," he grumbled, and tightened his grip on his sword.
Then, he charged ahead, leaving a scowling Annette stumbling to catch up.
"Hey, wait! Felix!"
He wouldn't make it in time, however. His charge was hindered by a brigade of mages and axemen, which he swiftly took care of with the (unsolicited) help of Annette. By the time he set his sights back onto the bandit leader, an oafish, blunderheaded brute of all brawn and no brain, he found Dimitri and Byleth had already struck him down.
Felix gritted his teeth, gripped his blade.
Annette trotted up to him, stumbling over a pebble but managing to stay on her feet. "Oh, look!" she breathed, pointing where Felix was already staring. "We did it!"
"Hmph."
Felix stuffed his sword in its sheath and scowled. While the others gathered around, he turned his back and walked away.
It was only mission one, and he’d already fallen well behind the boar.
Later that night, Felix wandered the monastery in search of one of the few items he’d even brought to the monastery — Glenn’s black iron spur, which he’d somehow misplaced. Sentimentality was never his thing, but the spur was one of the only keepsakes he still had left of his brother. It was a reminder of sorts, one that he didn’t necessarily need, to not fall behind; it stayed on his person at all times. Until now, that is. He felt naked without it, as though he'd charged into battle without his sword.
The prior evening, Felix had been tasked with sweeping the library floors, so maybe it'd fallen out of his pocket there.
It was late, dark, the little flames in the wall sconces his only guiding light; Felix was sweaty, spent from an arduous, post-mission training session. When he rounded the corner past Professor Hanneman's study, he was surprised to see faint light spilling into the hall from within the library.
Felix frowned and continued onward, then suddenly stopped in his tracks, his ears straining to listen. He heard something — a whimper. A series of sniffles. Quiet, shaky breaths.
Carefully, Felix crept toward the library's open doors and peeked inside.
Books were stacked high atop one of the back tables, only two opened. A lone candle flickered beside the stack, with what little wax that remained drooping slowly into its holder — whomever it belonged to had been here for a while now. Felix's eyes flicked from side to side, scanning the room, when he spotted the source of the peculiar noises.
Huddled in the corner sat the ever-positive Annette Dominic, barely visible in the low light. She hugged her knees to her chest, face buried in her arms as silent sobs racked her tiny frame.
Felix felt himself take a step forward, then immediately froze. He didn't know what compelled him to approach, and he sure wouldn't know what to say to her once his presence was discovered. Comfort wasn't his thing. Neither were words. Nor feelings.
Still, he wondered. What could she be crying about? The girl had certainly seemed her usual self throughout the bandit battle.
…But he wondered, faintly, if it could have all been a front.
I did it! See? I'm a great fighter!
Her words from earlier suddenly made much more sense. It seemed that, like him, Annette Dominic had come to Garreg Mach with something to prove.
To whom though…Felix didn't know.
He stood there in contemplative silence for a long time, watching her, transfixed yet uncertain. Finally he clenched his fists and made up his mind.
Felix turned on his heel and left, staring at his feet as he walked. He wouldn't have been much help anyway.
His mind swimming the entire trek back to his room, Felix forgot all about Glenn's black iron spur.
~-~
It took all of Annette's leftover willpower not to chuck the full watering can straight at Felix Fraldarius's stupid, nosy face.
Her cheeks burned crimson as she held his deadpan gaze, mustering up the meanest scowl she'd ever produced. Of all the students at the academy, it just had to be him who would walk in on her performance of Crumbs and Yums. Curse her terrible luck. She couldn't stand the shame, the inevitable ridicule, worst of all that blank look on his face — she couldn't stand any of it any longer.
"YOU'RE EVIL, FELIX!"
If the swordsman was at all deterred by her outburst, he didn't show it.
"And you're shouting."
"You can't just spy on people while they're singing without even saying anything!" she continued, frantic. "It's not right!"
"I actually did call out that I was coming in. It's not my fault you didn't hear."
If possible, Annette's scowl deepened.
"Well…You need to speak louder, then! Ugh, this is so embarrassing…And of course I was singing some silly food song I made up. I should have been singing about..." Annette paused, tongued a tooth. "Bears! Or swamp beasties!"
"I didn't realize there were songs about bears and swamp beasties," Felix intoned, frowning ponderously. "That food song seemed to be close to your heart. Your stomach isn't far from your heart, after all."
And thus began the ridicule. Annette gritted her teeth, fists shaking at her waist as budding tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
"Oh, you are the worst!"
This time, she did throw the watering can at his stupid, nosy face. Annette ran past him, straight out the greenhouse, then as far away as she could possibly go, not staying long enough to find out if she'd even actually hit him. Knowing Felix, he'd probably caught it, anyway.
Four days passed in which Annette avoided Felix like the plague. In that span, none had approached her with snide jokes regarding steaks, cakes, crumbs nor yums, but Annette knew she was only biding her time until the inevitable happened. Soon she'd have to confront this sadistic grump to buy his silence, but for now, Annette simply couldn't bear to face him.
Avoiding Felix during class was a bit tricky, and Annette would be lying if she said she hadn't considered transferring. Hubert terrified her too much to join the Eagles, and for the Deer, well…she'd had more than her fill with Lorenz during their time at the School of Sorcery together, brief as it was. So that idea didn't get very far. Annette would have to just keep her eyes on her notes and force herself not to hum a tune.
Outside of class, avoiding him was much easier. Felix was either at the training grounds or the dining hall, so Annette took the liberty to memorize his personal mealtime schedule to ensure a seamless, shameless, Felix-less experience every time she and Mercie grabbed a bite. Call it obsessive, but Annette didn't work any other way.
If she were to keep this up, though, she'd have to disobey Professor Byleth and shirk her axe practice. That, or find someplace else to go, since Felix practically lived at the training grounds.
Naturally, this left the Knights' Hall as her only other option. And since Felix wouldn't be there to watch her and provide gruff (yet admittedly useful) critiques, Annette dragged Mercie along to help.
"Annie, I just can't — oof! — keep this thing up!"
Annette gave her an encouraging smile, watching the bulky weapon weigh the blonde down. "You can do it, I believe in you! Just please try to hit me, okay? I need to spar."
Mercedes pouted as Annette squared off with a noticeably firmer grip on her own training axe. Shrugging, she hefted it over her shoulder.
"If you say so — aah!"
Mercedes buckled beneath the weight of the axe head, tumbling to the floor.
"Mercie!"
Rushing to her aid, Annette helped her older, weaker friend to her feet. It was becoming clear that Mercie should probably just stick to magic.
"You know I'm no good at this," she breathed, and they both knew it. "Why even ask me? I'm sure Dimitri would've been happy to spar with you — Felix, too! In fact I saw him heading to the training ground this morning."
Annette winced.
"I — erm — just wanted to spend more time with you! Is that so wrong?"
"Annie, we already do everything together." Mercedes narrowed her eyes, fixing the redhead with a suspicious look — a rare substitute to her typical, airy façade. "Unless…hm. Is something else going on?"
Cornered, Annette palmed her face and conceded. She really couldn't hide anything from her. "Okay, fine. I may or may not be, um…avoiding him."
"Hm? Avoiding whom?"
"…Felix."
"Now, what ever did he do?"
"He overheard Crumbs and Yums!"
"Oh dear," Mercedes said simply. Her tone conveyed interest, but her expression remained serenely unaffected. "Well, did he like your song, Annie?"
Annette blinked. "Huh?"
When Mercedes repeated her question, Annette was left sputtering, "No? I mean — well — he made fun of it! I, uh, I think…"
Mercedes only giggled, but she left it at that. Annette was left pondering why her friend had even asked.
~-~
It had been seven nights in a row now that Felix dreamt of steaks and cakes — stacks of them, at that. By that same token, it had been seven days in a row now that Felix's routine at the training ground was noticeably sloppy.
"You okay, Felix?" Ingrid chimed when his foot slipped and his strike didn't quite hit its mark. A wayward twig flew off the practice dummy and skidded onto the sand, severing what was once his inanimate opponent's arm.
The swordsman gritted his teeth, not bothering to spare her a glance. "Fine," he said, ditching the violated dummy in favor of the open air.
Naturally, Ingrid didn't buy it.
"You seem a little…off."
Felix ignored her and continued to swing his sword to the rhythm in his head; on the word yums, his grip slackened in his follow-through, and he barely, just barely, stumbled forward. The average soldier wouldn't have noticed, but Ingrid was no average soldier. She also knew him better than anyone else.
"Alright, that's enough, Felix," Ingrid ordered, stepping in front of him and crossing her arms. "What's the matter with you? Your form is shoddy and your balance is off. You'd better call it a day before you start developing bad habits."
Like the stubborn child he once was, Felix turned his gaze away and harrumphed, scowling. "I don't have to answer to you," he said, also like a child.
Luckily, if only to save them both the time, Ingrid chose not to bite on that.
"Come on, you've been at it all morning. Let's go grab some brunch and refuel. Sound good?"
Felix decided not to mention the fact that Ingrid had already eaten breakfast this morning, and would undoubtedly be dining at lunchtime too. He simply marveled at that woman's metabolism.
Ingrid may also have been right. If he kept up these sloppy habits, they could prove to be his undoing on a real battlefield. Perhaps it truly would be in his best interest to rack his weapon for the day, and to hope for the best that his mind would be clear on the next.
And, he'd admit, there was a low rumble emanating from — damn it all — his tummy-tummy-tum.
He wiped sweat from his face, wincing as his hand ran over the bruise forming at his nose, which may or may not have been caused by a stray watering can. "Fine,” he grunted. “Whatever."
They arrived at a practically-empty dining hall, and after waiting in line behind Raphael getting fourteenths, they sat down with their plates rather swiftly. His mind elsewhere, Felix picked at his food, watching in subdued amusement as Ingrid blissfully inhaled her serving with all the grace of a demonic beast.
So when the object of his daydream — or, rather, the owner of its voice — entered the mess hall with Mercedes on her arm, Felix suddenly felt like he was seeing things. How long had it been, now, since he'd seen Annette outside of class?
Apparently not long enough, for when she laid eyes upon him, Annette emitted a startled "Eep!"
Grabbing Mercedes' arm, she whispered something frantic into her ear — something about not here on his normal schedule, from what he could gather — before hurriedly fleeing the scene and dragging the blonde along with her.
Felix frowned at the doorway, puzzled. He knew Annette had been avoiding him ever since the greenhouse — and for some reason, it stung. Just a bit.
Ingrid followed his gaze to the vacant doorway, then turned back to him with an upraised eyebrow. "Who's over there? You were staring."
"No one. And no I wasn't."
Ingrid frowned. "Hm. Well, at any rate, your food will grow cold if you keep neglecting it."
Leaning his chin on his fist, Felix pushed his plate over to her, suddenly not feeling very hungry after all. Ingrid looked ready to promise him her firstborn child.
It was the morning after his eighth consecutive night filled with sweet dreams (pun regretfully intended) that a knock came at Felix's door.
The swordsman hummed a particularly catchy tune as he finished scooping his indigo locks into a loose bun, then rose to answer it.
He had not expected to find the composer of said tune at his doorstep.
Annette shifted nervously, fidgeting with her hands and looking everywhere but his eyes. "Hello, Felix. So, uh, it was your turn to clean out the greenhouse, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, I went ahead and took care of it! I also cleaned up the warehouse."
Felix blinked. The warehouse was his assignment the next day; it was still well early in the morning.
"Why?" he asked, frowning.
"I just wanted to…help you out! So that..." Annette blanked, then, and huffed and gave it up. "Okay fine! I'm bribing you. So you'll forget!"
"Forget what?"
"Are you really going to make me say it? Before! In the greenhouse. I want you to forget what you saw and heard. If you agree to forget about it, I'll take your shift in the stables. Do we have a deal?"
"No, thanks."
All color drained from Annette's face. "No?!" she cried, eyes widening. "But that's not okay! You have to forget about it! Right this moment!"
"I can't. It's permanently etched in my memory," he said truthfully, then immediately regretted it.
Felix scrambled to recover from his blunder, but only managed to sound like a blubbering fool. He said something snide about her lyrics, conveyed his interest in the ditties of bears and beasties she mentioned, followed by an inquiry about one of her particular dance moves — what, to him, could only be fencing footwork.
Of course, this prompted another outburst.
"Stop it, Felix! You're a villain!"
"Hm?"
"You think you're so funny? Keeping a straight face while mocking my singing and dancing?! Well, you have to forget about it. Please! What if I make you a nice steak dinner?" Annette perked up at this, rising to her tiptoes and leaning forward persuasively. "You like steak, don't you, Felix? It will be yum-my…!"
He felt his stomach somersault at the sight before him, triggering his deny-everything reflex. But he was already in far too deep, at this point, and once more Annette had gotten the wrong idea.
"This isn't about steak," he tried; "I just — "
His efforts, pathetic as they were, proved futile.
Annette scowled at him, stamped her foot on the floorboards.
“Fine, be stubborn! Tell the whole world for all I care! I'll just learn to live with the funny looks I'll get from everyone. They’ll all say, ‘There goes that Annette, the girl with the funny ideas about food!’”
Felix blinked at the red-faced girl before him as tears welled up in her eyes once again.
"You're just the evilest of villains, Felix! I'll hate you forever and ever!"
And she ran off, slamming the door behind her and leaving Felix utterly perplexed.
That's what he got for trying to be nice, Felix thought darkly.
‘Funny ideas about food?’ Even the bullies in her head are ridiculous.
He really didn't understand that girl.
Doesn't matter, he thought bitterly. Despite his words, Felix did his best to forget about her — yet it was looking like it'd be an eighth consecutive day of sloppy training routines.
~-~
Secondhand grief hung over the Blue Lions like a gloomy cloud as they trudged back from Magdred Way.
Ashe lagged behind the others at an almost dangerous distance. Monster sightings were growing more common down this path as of late, so Byleth had to gently prod him forward multiple times. Luckily, Ashe didn't appear resentful toward the professor for being the one to strike down Lonato.
In fact he was probably grateful. Having to face his adoptive father in battle would likely have been far too traumatic.
Annette, meanwhile, simply didn't know what to say in situations like these. Ashe had grown to become a close friend in these few short months at the academy, and in the moment he needed his companions the most, she always came up short on finding the right words. It made her feel like a failure.
The days that followed dragged by in tense unease. A planned attempt on Lady Rhea's life — even if the Lions suspected it to be nothing more than a diversion — served as quite the wake-up call to her and her classmates. One that boded ill for the rest of the school year.
They'd already taken the lives of bandits, and now citizens…and no amount of studying could have possibly prepared her for such trauma. But now this — this spelled much, much higher stakes. And it foretold something else, something bigger, that was going on behind the scenes.
In the weeks leading up to the Rite of Rebirth, the three houses were tasked with guarding the areas around Garreg Mach that were particularly lacking in security. Part of these orders included taking turns aiding the knights on night watch, which Byleth deemed necessary for their training, anyway.
Annette didn't mind; she'd pulled plenty of all-nighters in her heyday, cramming on the eves of important exams. Plus, the duty was split up evenly among the students in a way that only required one shift a week, so it wasn't too bad.
As Byleth insisted they implement the buddy system, given the possibility of danger, the first week Annette was paired with Dimitri.
"You know, assassination plots aside, this has turned out quite the pleasant night," the prince mused, gazing up at the clear, starry skies.
Annette struggled to contain her laughter. "That's really reassuring, Your Highness."
"Hm? Oh, er — forgive my indiscretion. I didn't intend to frighten you."
"No, it's okay," Annette giggled; for as prim and proper as he was, the prince was surprisingly awkward at making conversation.
At least, like His Highness said, it was a pleasant night. They both hailed from the frigid Faerghus north, so neither were accustomed to such warm evenings as this one, even in midsummer.
The noble pair patrolled the outer perimeter at a slow pace, the torches on the ramparts and the fire spell in Annette's palm lighting the way.
"But on that note," Annette began, choosing to ignore a rustling in the bushes that may or may not have been just the wind, "isn't it weird that we're out on patrol right now? The Rite isn't for another few weeks."
"It could be simply for training purposes, I'd wager," Dimitri offered.
It made sense, she supposed; they were at a military school, and were expected to do military things, and night watch was surely a routine task for an army.
The prince shrugged, then gave her a small smile. "Plus, I've noticed that Professor Byleth likes to, well…inspire class bonding, so to speak — by pairing up some rather odd combinations."
Annette's eyes widened, then flashed with hurt. "What are you saying? Are we an odd combination?"
"I suppose…somewhat?" Dimitri made a conciliatory gesture. "I mean to say, to our professor, pre-established friendships take a backseat. Hence why you were not assigned with Mercedes, while I wasn't assigned with Dedue, my vassal; nor Ingrid, Sylvain, or Felix — my three childhood friends."
At the mention of the final name, Annette felt her eyebrows raise.
He considered Felix his friend? She knew they had a history, but friends didn't seem like a term she would use to describe them. Friends were supposed to…well, be nice. Not constantly insult you, blow you off, call you a "boar."
Whatever happened between the two to drive them apart, though, Dimitri still seemed to be holding on. But Annette chose not to question the evident strain; such a breach of boundaries would hardly be appropriate, especially to someone of his status.
Annette considered his point, though — how whenever Byleth invited her to a meal, it was always with a Lion she hadn't seen in quite a while; how when she was assigned her chores, it'd be with Ingrid, or Dedue, or Ashe, and so on. Annette couldn't remember a time in those scenarios when she was joined by Mercie. If all that were intentional, then their professor was far more brilliant and perceptive than Annette knew.
"Now that you mention it..." she said thoughtfully, her eyes widening in realization. "That's true! But how could the professor be so…manipulative? She certainly doesn't seem that way."
"She's a mystery, that much is for certain," Dimitri chuckled fondly as they rounded a corner. "And I admit, such tactics have their benefits…and drawbacks. Dedue is probably pacing the floor in his room as we speak, eagerly awaiting my return. And Sylvain…well. Needless to say, Professor Byleth ensures that he is only assigned to work with other males."
Annette laughed, and the two spent the rest of the night in amicable chatter as they circled the monastery grounds. She decided to put off asking him about her father, as now simply didn't feel like the right time, what with grander issues going on.
When the second week of night watch rolled around, Annette wasn't dreading it. With Dimitri, their patrol was peaceful and the weather pleasant. Poor weather in the early Blue Sea Moon, even at nighttime, was nigh unheard of.
And yet, as if just to torment her ill-fated soul, a torrential downpour cascaded from the heavens the moment she reached the monastery gates for her second shift; and with it arrived her new night watch partner — Felix Fraldarius. Annette found it fitting. Annette found it an omen.
Rain pelted Felix's hood as he dipped his head in a curt greeting. Warm, amber eyes cut through the shadows over his face.
"...Hi."
The redhead huffed, shivered. "Hi."
It was then that her conversation with His Highness a week ago abruptly came to mind. Annette wondered whether Byleth's decision to pair her with Felix tonight was truly an honest coincidence. If not…how much did that woman know? Was she spying on them?!
Felix studied her for a short, awkward moment. "Do you…need to grab a cloak? I can wait."
In her delirium, Annette had failed to realize that she was still only dressed in her academy uniform — which, now, was effectively sopping wet. "No, uh, I don't have it for now. It's…being repaired."
"Repaired? What happened to it?"
It had caught on fire. Annette had caught it on fire. "I just snagged it on a table corner."
"Ah."
Annette said nothing. Felix said nothing.
Then, when she just couldn't take it any longer: "Well!" She clapped her hands, nodding her head to the gate. "Lead the way."
Felix made no such move. "You can't be serious," he said. "You'll catch a cold. You probably already have, in fact. Go borrow one from Mercedes or something."
She would, if the cloak she'd caught on fire didn't already belong to Mercie. Annette's own cloak had disintegrated in some calamitous vortex during one of her magic sessions with Lysithea, weeks ago.
"She's asleep," Annette said instead, which was probably true anyway.
Felix emitted a tired sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking away, as if wrestling with something in his mind. Then, he pursed his lips and began slipping out of his overcoat.
"You're not to say a word about this."
Annette blinked. "Huh?"
With his cloak removed, Felix shoved it her way. "...Take it," he ground out, refusing to meet her widening eyes.
"Wha..." Annette felt her jaw go slack. Four Saints, was this — Felix? Being nice? She didn't think the swordsman had ever said or done anything nice even once. She hardly thought him capable.
Annette cleared her mind, shook her head. "I…I can't take this, Felix. What about you?"
"I'm wearing another layer," he intoned, tugging at his sweater. He peered at her dryly. "Some of us spare a glance at the skies before stepping out."
She scowled, her surprise at his lone gesture of humanity effectively washed away. "Villain," she grumbled, snatching the cloak from his outstretched hand.
And thus began their patrol. Felix's oversized cloak nearly swallowed Annette whole, but the extra warmth it provided went a long way. She couldn't help but notice how nice it smelled (like Faerghan pine trees, reminding her of home) and tried her best not to wonder if this was Felix's natural scent (she failed). They walked and stood at an awkward distance apart, hugging the walls along the way to keep dry beneath the eaves.
After a few hours of uncomfortable silence, boredom reared its ugly head, and Annette risked a peek at the sullen swordsman beside her. He stood at a good two meters' distance, arms crossed, frown set on his brow as he leaned against the stone wall. Throughout the night, they'd both been adamant in ignoring one another's presence, and Annette was starting to think she deserved it.
After all, I'll hate you forever and ever wasn't exactly the most… inviting phrase one could be told.
Not that she felt guilty.
For taking his overcoat, though, on such an unexpectedly chilly night…Annette allowed herself to feel guilty for that.
"Are you cold?" she asked tentatively.
Felix's gaze shot her way, startled by the shattered silence. "No," he insisted, but even Annette could see the slight shiver that racked his torso.
"Liar. No one's expecting you to be invincible, you know."
Felix raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and turned his gaze back toward the woods.
Annette rolled her eyes at his stubbornness, then scampered up beside him and held out her hand, palm-up. A small sigil materialized, glowing purple, before a ball of flame appeared in her palm.
"Here," she said, smiling proudly. "This'll keep us warm, I think."
Felix took one glance at her fire spell before flicking his eyes back up to hers. Annette felt herself falter a bit beneath his judgmental gaze, but then he shrugged.
"If you really think we'll need it."
"I do." Annette leaned her back against the wall, now much closer to him than before. She had to retract her sleeve to keep herself from setting fire to a second cloak in a matter of weeks, and while the idea crossed her mind for payback purposes, she decided she'd rather not meet Felix's wrath. "Do you want to cast one yourself? We'd be even warmer."
Felix shook his head, shifting his weight from foot to foot, leaning noticeably away from her. "I'll be fine."
"Wait," she began, "Do you not know how?"
"Of course I don't," Felix snapped. "Faerghusmen don't bother with magic."
To her knowledge, that was true enough in general. Despite its capital being home to the School of Sorcery, the Kingdom scarcely produced black mages. It was a land that glorified knighthood, and forced either a lance or sword into the hands of its boys at a very young age. As such, in her homeland, Annette was of a rare breed; yet the demand for people of her skillset remained particularly low, regardless. White mages could at least mend soldiers’ wounds.
"I can teach you if you want," Annette offered. "With some study and practice, you'll be casting beginner spells by the end of the month!"
"The end of the month?" The swordsman blinked at her. "I'll pass. I don't see the point in wasting so much of my time."
Quieting, Annette looked away, stung. She wondered why she’d even offered to begin with; he was so focused on his stupid swords, while her plate was already full with her own studies. Of course he’d shoot her down.
They stood in delicate silence for another moment, until she sensed Felix shifting tensely beside her. She kept her eyes fixed on the treeline.
"I was supposed to learn when I was younger," he offered, after a while. "My mother once promised to teach me."
Annette raised an eyebrow. "And she didn't because...?"
"She died."
"Oh, goddess, I'm so sorry I asked — "
"It's fine." Felix shook his head, gazing out into the distance. "Barely knew her, actually. She passed when I was five or so."
Annette could somewhat empathize. She had, more or less, lost a parent as well; albeit not permanently. Her grief had been immense, but she couldn't fathom how hard an impact such a loss had on a young boy.
For so long, the knowledge that her father was still out there somewhere, alive…it'd given Annette a tangible goal. And she clung to that goal, that hope that she could bring him home, with all that she was. That same goal helped shape the very woman she was today.
But for Felix, he wasn't so lucky. He wasn't given that same hope. And she wondered just how deeply that affected him.
"Still," Annette said somberly, "I'm sorry for your loss."
Air blew from Felix's nose in a rueful, quiet laugh. She didn’t know why.
"Thanks, I guess. Didn't mean to bring it up to be honest."
When the two settled into another moment of silence, Annette chewed on her lip — she was hesitant to ask him. Then, swallowing her pride: "Say, Felix?"
"Hm."
"Odd question, but, um…Have you run into very many Knights of Seiros this year?"
Felix frowned. "A few. Catherine, Shamir, other nameless grunts. Alois finds a way to run into you whether you like it or not."
"No one…tall, broad-shouldered, with a generally-gloomy demeanor?" Annette tried. "Same hair color as mine?"
His frown contorted into one of confusion. "No. Why?"
Annette winced; why was she even talking to him about this? He didn't care. Even if he did, wasn’t she supposed to hate him? And for — well — forever and ever? Burdening others with her own problems just didn’t feel right, anyway.
Yet she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. "I'm, uh…I'm looking for my father."
"Your father?" Felix repeated. "The baron, right? Has he left his lands?"
"He was a royal knight, actually, not the baron. My uncle owns the title," Annette said, no longer able to look at him. "My father, he…He left one day. I haven't seen or heard from him since I was thirteen."
It was almost therapeutic to admit. It was a secret only Mercie knew thus far, for speaking of her father brought forth painful memories. Annette felt the beginnings of fresh tears forming at her eyes, and for once she actually considered herself lucky for the rainy weather.
When she realized neither of them had said anything for quite some time, Annette timidly turned her head up toward the swordsman.
As he peered at her, something seemed to suddenly click for him; but there was no telling what. Annette sighed and looked back at the ground.
In hindsight, she probably should've just asked Dimitri.
But then Felix spoke.
"No, I haven't run into him," he said. "But if I ever do, he's going to wish he hadn't."
Annette laughed and wiped a tear from her cheek.
And, to her utter dismay, Felix cracked a tiny smile. "Fathers are the worst, aren’t they."
"Agreed," she said. "And yours? What's so bad about him?"
His lips moved to speak, but then Felix stopped and let out a breath. “He's an ass,” he grumbled. “I won't bore you with the details.”
Annette blinked, smiled, and allowed herself another giggle. There was clearly more to unpack, there, but if she were lucky that would be a conversation for another day.
She turned her gaze back to the stormy skies. It may have just been her imagination, but it looked as though the rain was soon to relent.
With a sigh, Annette wondered if that too were an omen.