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Annette was raised to run a household. She was a minor noblewoman with a minor crest. Even without a father trying to barter her away, her mother and her uncle ensured she learned how to manage an estate, a husband, and a few worthwhile hobbies that would make her vaguely marriageable. She never expected to marry for love, nor to be able to choose her future partner, which made the act of entertaining potential matches for her to select rather strange. She expected some men to be pushy, but she didn’t expect anyone to be violent.
Her mother held a hand to her chest. “Well he was…a character.”
Annette made a face of disgust at the thought of the last man that the knights had to escort out of the castle.
“Just say ‘an asshole’, mother.”
“Annette!” she gasped. “Honestly, ever since you came back from traveling with an army, you’ve become so crass. Such language is unacceptable from a young lady in your position.”
“Mother, he was a brute!” Annette assessed Felix’s broken nose with a grimace. “I’m so, so sorry you got hurt.”
Felix managed a wry grin that only made him wince. “It’s my job, remember?”
“It is not your job to get punched in the face for me.”
“It is literally my job to get punched in the face for you.”
Annette conjured up a healing spell and held her hands over his face. “Well…”
“Yes?”
“I don’t have to like it.”
“I didn’t say you had to.”
Annette hated seeing Felix hurt. She hated it even more when he got hurt trying to protect her.
The last man she had to endure a meeting with insisted on having that meeting alone, shooting dirty looks at her mother and her bodyguard. He grabbed her wrist, insisting they go somewhere else, prompting Felix to butt in, followed by a minor scuffle that he, for once in his life, didn’t actually start.
When she finished healing his nose, Annette held his jaw in her hands and tilted his head, looking for any other bruises.
“I’m fine,” Felix insisted.
“Honestly dear,” her mother piped up. “I’m quite certain Felix can handle a few hits. Didn’t he get punched in the face last week as well?”
“That doesn’t mean he becomes immune to injury, mother!”
Her mother looked down at the piece of parchment she was making actual notes on. “Now what did you think of Sir Lucas?”
“Who?” Annette couldn’t even remember the man.
Was he the one that offered her the bouquet of daffodils, claiming they complimented her features? Or was he the one that brought her a box of salted caramels, having heard that she had a taste for sweet things?
They all seemed so boring, so inconsequential, so not evil.
Granted, the last guy was an actual villain. Just not the sort Annette preferred.
“That guy? He looked like a slight breeze could knock him over,” Felix critiqued, the shift of his jaw reminding her to let go of him. “How did he even get knighted? The Boar’s standards have clearly gone down.” He smirked at her and she giggled. “Imagine sparring with him. One spell would probably kill him.”
“Perhaps,” her mother replied. “But I don’t see why Annette would be sparring with whoever she chose to marry.”
Felix shrugged, while Annette looked at the ceiling and wondered how her mother seemed to have forgotten that Annette was a general just a year ago. She fought in the war. She felled giant beasts and men twice her size.
“Why don’t we discuss this over dinner?”
“Why not now?”
“I have to heal Felix!”
“We have qualified bishops for that, Annette.”
“Mother.”
“Very well.”
Annette turned to the man who’d become her shadow in the past months.
Dimitri was terribly upset when after the war, Felix renounced his claim. His uncle was doing a fine job with Fraldarius already, Felix argued, and his cousins were all crested and competent. Sylvain was taken aback and Ingrid was furious. Given all of their reactions, Felix didn’t write to them as much as he did Annette. His wandering mercenary days came to a halt, however, when Dimitri hired him to protect Baroness Dominic in light of the events that led to Annette becoming Baroness at all. After all, her uncle and Count Rowe’s deaths happened under mysterious circumstances and Dimitri didn’t want to take any chances.
“Felix?”
“Hm?”
“Why don’t we go to the infirmary?” She touched his side even though the potential suitor had been subdued long before he could actually do damage. “I’m worried you might’ve, um, broken a rib.”
“Right. Sure.”
Felix left the room first. Annette made to follow, but her mother grabbed her.
“Do not think I will insist on any of those men from today,” she murmured.
Annette looked down at her mother’s hand. “I assumed you were going to make me marry the merchant.”
“Annette, you’ve never been betrothed for a reason. I would never make you marry anyone. Nor would your father or your uncle. I married for love, darling.” She glanced outside to where Felix was waiting and offered Annette a knowing stare. “I want the same thing for you as well.”
Annette felt her face grow warm, understanding her implication perfectly. “It’s not like that—”
“Isn’t it?”
“I—I know what you’re trying to say, you know! And—and he…he…”
Annette pushed down all the dreams she dared to have after one too many moments in the greenhouse with a man whose stay in Dominic was temporary.
Did she think she and Felix would have fallen into courtship immediately after returning from Enbarr? Maybe. But he never promised her anything. And they never did anything beyond hand holding and warm embraces and perhaps a few passionate kisses. He wrote her letters as he roamed Fodlan and he came to her side to be her protector, but he hadn’t done anything since arriving in Dominic to indicate that he was still her captive.
“Felix renounced his claim,” Annette mumbled, reminding her mother as much as she was reminding herself. “He doesn’t want the life of a noble anymore.”
Whoever married Annette would share her duties to her territory and to her king.
Those were the exact duties Felix chose to walk away from.
Her mother laughed as she tucked Annette’s hair back. “My darling, you would be offering him much more than the life of a noble.”
“Mother—”
“Felix!” her mother called, beckoning him back into the room.
He entered but looked mildly annoyed to be summoned like a dog.
“How is that rib of yours?”
“Sore,” he lied. “Very sore.”
She nudged Annette towards him none too gently. “Well if your poor rib isn’t too sore, could you perhaps take Annette to the gardens for a relaxing stroll? I’m afraid this afternoon’s events left her terribly unsettled.”
Felix raised an eyebrow, but nodded nevertheless. “Right. Sure.”
Annette flushed, knowing he was judging them.
Both mother and daughter were liars and they were both terrible ones at that.
“Meanwhile, I’ll go ahead and write to the rest of the suitors to tell them not to bother visiting anymore.”
Felix stilled at the announcement. Annette tried not to feel anything over what looked like hope in his eyes.
“Something tells me Annette can find someone closer to home—”
“Felix, you should marry me,” Annette blurted out.
Her mother blinked a few times before stammering that she had somewhere to be and rushing out of the room.
Alone, the silence grew deafening and Annette began to panic.
“Um.” Felix blushed. “What?”
“So that, uh, I don’t have to go through with any potential arranged marriage.”
He said nothing.
“I just mean—that is to say—uh—”
Annette winced, but she didn’t back down. She could go through with this. She was a Baroness. She had a territory to protect. If she couldn’t propose to the only man she’s ever wanted, then she couldn’t do anything.
“I’m in love with you,” Annette told him, forcing herself to meet his stare. “I—I have been for…a while. I know you don’t want this kind of life anymore but—but maybe…maybe with me, it can be bearable?”
“Annette—”
“You don’t have to be a baron,” she offered. “You can just be my husband. You can still be Mister Angry Swordsman Mercenary Man and I’ll be the Baroness!”
Annette closed her eyes, bracing herself for rejection. Felix was going to leave Dominic that night, she knew. No, that afternoon. He would go back to his room and pack his things and leave and never write to her or protect her or be her friend ever again, all because she couldn’t keep her feelings to herself—
“Where’s my ring?”
Annette blinked. “Huh?”
“You just proposed to me.”
“I—” Annette bit her lip, embarrassed. “If I’m being honest, I didn’t expect today to go from healing your broken nose to asking you to be my husband.”
“Well that cheapskate King of Faerghus hasn’t actually paid me for this bodyguard job yet,” Felix groused as he crossed his arms, “so I’m willing to accept gold in the form of a ring.”
Annette’s smile wobbled as tears sprang into her eyes. “Really?”
When he nodded, she threw herself against him, burying her face into his chest and wrapping her arms around his middle. He had to wrestle out of her grip to return the embrace.
“Felix,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “Are you still my captive?”
He chuckled as he tilted her head back to capture her lips. “Always.”