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Dedue is the first to play the fool.
Having him back feels like a dream, but Annette is sobered by Dimitri’s insistence that they march forward to Enbarr. Like when they were students, Dedue helps Annette with her kitchen duties just as she helps him with stable duties. But Annette still has days where she wanders off to the kitchen on her own hoping to make something out of the limited supplies she’s allowed to use.
It’s well into the evening when she forces Felix to join her for hot cocoa.
“I don’t even like hot cocoa,” he complains.
“Sure you do. Everyone does.”
Felix takes a seat on the counter as Annette brings two peoples’ worth of milk to a simmer. He pokes her cheek and she swats him away. “You just want to make me a cup so I’ll offer it to you when I don’t want to drink it.”
Annette gasps in utter indignation as Felix smirks. “How dare you.”
“What? Call you out?”
“Yes!”
Further mockery and/or flirtation is on the tip of his tongue when Dedue walks in. They both look towards the entrance, surprised to see him there.
“Good evening,” Dedue greets.
“Hi Dedue!” Annette considers the second portion of hot cocoa she perhaps intended to persuade Felix into giving to her. Maybe Dedue would actually appreciate it. “Would you like some cocoa?”
“No thank you.”
Felix says nothing as Dedue considers the sad array of available ingredients.
“Do we have kitchen duty tomorrow?” Annette asks.
“No,” Dedue replies. “I was hoping to make a meal for His Highness.”
Annette stirs chocolate into her milk while looking at the vegetables as well. Dedue would definitely come up with a better, tastier idea, but it didn’t help to have another set of eyes. “Maybe you can—”
“Just give him something small,” Felix mutters. He shifts so that he’s standing on the counter, reaching into a cupboard Annette couldn’t reach even with a box and a stool. He retrieves a jar of what looks like jerky and hands it to Dedue. “He sleeps more than a few hours if you just stick to something light this late. Give him some of that.”
Dedue accepts the container with a nod. After all, Felix was the one who watched over Dimitri when they first reunited. “Thank you.”
“Whatever,” Felix mutters. “If the boar is going to die being an idiot, it shouldn’t be from hunger.”
Dedue makes no comment. He begins his march back to his vigil, but pauses in the doorway. He turns back to them and despite his lack of a smile, there’s a softness in his eyes Annette doesn’t see very often.
“Thank you for caring for His Highness during my absence. I am certain that you will make a wonderful father one day, Felix.”
Annette hears the sizzle of milk bubbling over, meaning she most definitely scalded it. But she’s too busy watching Felix flounder.
To make matters worse, Dedue continues, “I wish the two of you a happy marriage.”
Annette blinks. “Wait, what?”
“Are you not married yet?”
“Yet?” she squeaks.
Felix takes a large step away from her, only reminding her of how close he initially was. “Why would we be married?!”
“I apologize for my assumption,” Dedue offers. “It appears I’ve misread your interactions these past few weeks.”
“What interactions?” Felix demands.
Before Dedue can open his mouth to list glances that were neither longing nor lingering, hand holding that lasted perfectly reasonable amounts of time whenever they had to pull each other away from danger, and perhaps the occasional kiss on the cheek between very good friends when Felix did something particularly sweet, Felix points towards the general direction of the cathedral and tells Dedue to go away.
Annette met Lorenz many, many years ago and still, to this day, reacts to him with a grimace.
She’s obviously glad that the Professor convinced Dimitri to spare him. Lorenz was her classmate at the School of Sorcery and later on at Garreg Mach. He’s annoying and snobby and generally needs to mind his own business. He’s better with a lance than his family relic, in her humble opinion, just as he’s better fighting on their side than he is dead. And if there’s anyone there who can sympathize with the position he was in—bordering the Empire and having to play a different sort of game to survive—it’s her.
Lorenz is smelling the roses when Annette enters the greenhouse with Felix taking his time following her. She wants to water the herbs she planted and Felix has nothing better to do than pester her.
Lorenz straightens, assessing her (and her level of nobility, she imagines) before offering a nod.
“Good morning Annette.”
“Hello Lorenz.”
Felix enters a moment later, noticing Lorenz, and then audibly groaning.
“And Felix, of course. Hello.”
Felix barely manages a greeting, much less one that is polite.
“Since you are both here, please allow me to pass on my congratulations on your nuptials,” Lorenz says, bowing a fraction before Annette. “I never would have thought you would marry the son of a duke, Annette, but the duty of easing tensions within one's nation is a noble one, even if a coup still did occur.” Lorenz flashes her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you looked lovely, nevertheless. I would love to hear of your dress. Ah, and the decor."
Annette’s brow furrows in confusion. “My dress?”
“Yes, from your wedding.”
“My wedding?”
Lorenz draws back, looking between the two of them. “Am I…mistaken? The two of you are not married?”
Annette turns to Felix with wide eyes, just as Felix glares away to the side, refusing to meet her stare.
Again.
This is happening again.
How is this happening again?
“No,” Felix growls, “we are not.”
Annette tries not to feel offended by the intensity of his reaction.
“But the looks…and the sneaking around…” Lorenz crosses his arms. “I suppose a truly married couple would have no reason to be seeking privacy in the greenhouse, of course, when they might have their own quarters for such things.”
“That’s not—” Annette flushes. They have never ever misused the greenhouse and they never ever would. “That isn’t why we’re here! I just need to water my plants!”
“Or the library.”
“We were putting books away!”
“Ah, well, I apologize,” Lorenz says with a shake of his head. “It appears I’ve indulged in too many tales of romance as of late. Admittedly, marriages of convenience are a guilty pleasure of mine.”
Felix pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please stop.”
“Allow me to make up for this most erroneous assumption with some tea?”
Annette opens her mouth to accept the offer because annoying as Lorenz is, the man certainly knows his tea. Felix grabs her hand though—her hand, not her wrist or her arm, she thinks with a thrill—and pulls her away, muttering that they have plans.
They’ve been waiting for their contact for nearly an hour, but delays are understandable. When they hear someone approaching, Annette stills. Something isn’t right.
“Annette,” Felix whispers.
He doesn’t have to say anything more than her name for her to understand him. They’ve fought side-by-side for too long to not understand each other’s body language.
She feels the way he tenses beside her, so she summons magic to her fingertips to compliment his own coming attack. The hooded figure nearing them isn’t the right height or build and their gait is most certainly not Dorothea’s. Felix’s sword is out in the blink of an eye and just as Annette is about to disorient whoever intercepted their spy, they hear a groan.
“Can we not do this?” they grumble, pulling back their hood.
Annette blinks, slowly recognizing the man before them. At her side, Felix stands taut, still ready to strike.
“Linhardt?!”
“I’m aware that it’s been a long time, but I’d rather skip any small talk.” Linhardt holds his hands up. “I’m just here because Hubert was starting to question Dorothea’s trips out of Enbarr.”
Annette says nothing because this can still be a trap, just as Felix blurts out, “Who’s Dorothea?”
She sighs.
Linhardt crosses his arms, cocking his head and looking at Felix. “You’re not a very good actor.”
Paying no heed to the threats before him, Linhardt looks away to rummage through his bag. He pulls out a sealed envelope and hands it to Annette since she, at least, isn’t holding a sharp weapon.
“That should be everything she needed to pass on.”
Annette opens the letter. Felix scans its contents over her shoulder.
“Linhardt!” Annette yells. Though short and to the point, Dorothea’s note is barely coded and contains much more information about Arianrhod than anyone could be holding onto without being accused of treason. “This is very dangerous to travel with!”
“Yes, but Dorothea said she didn’t trust me to memorize the contents. Which, frankly, is rather rude considering I am more than adept at memorizing magical theorems. She gave me all the passcodes to tell you if you want to test my authenticity though.”
Felix sheaths his sword. He can probably knock Linhardt out with a punch or two if the other man doesn’t bother to throw some spells at him. And knowing Linhardt, he would welcome the opportunity to take a nap.
“Don’t take risks like this,” Felix orders. “If you’d been caught, both of you—”
“We all want this war to end,” Linhardt interrupts with a flippant wave of his hand. “So are we done now?”
Annette scans the letter once more. “Yes,” she confirms. “Thank you for the information.”
Linhardt nods, moving to leave and then pausing. He looks back at the two of them and mumbles something to himself. Felix and Annette glance at each other, unsure of the man who apparently gives away imperial secrets. He reaches back into his bag and pulls out a book. He offers it a sad smile before handing it to Annette.
“Here,” he says. “You can have this, I guess. I apologize for not having a proper wedding present. Dorothea didn’t mention I’d need one.” He eyes the cover longingly. “May this book teach you how to warp. I imagine one would find that spell useful when their spouse gets on their nerves.”
Felix looks at Annette, but quickly turns away with a flush.
“ Why would you need a wedding present?” Felix grinds out.
Linhardt eyes the space between them which is inches wide at best. “You two are married now, are you not?”
His droll tone is a lovely blend of insulting and infuriating. He sounds so matter-of-fact, as if they are the stupid ones, as he points out that at the few battles they’ve had the misfortune of crossing paths at, the way they fight together can only logically mean they have a closer connection than mere comradery, much less friendship.
Annette pushes the book into Felix’s arms because she doesn’t trust herself not to chuck at Linhardt’s head. Then again, Felix might just do that instead. She holds her burning cheeks in her hands and begs the goddess to smite all the presumptuous idiots in their lives.
“No!” Felix snaps. “Keep your stupid book.”
Annette is a smart girl. A smart girl would acknowledge that perhaps after three people have wrongly assumed that there was something going on between herself and Felix, that maybe she shouldn’t be around him so often. But Annette isn’t around him that often. And he isn’t around her that much either. They’re friends. They’re together (as friends) for perfectly reasonable stretches of time in perfectly reasonable increments. There’s no reason they shouldn’t be allowed to train together and eat together and decompress in the greenhouse together all in the same day.
That’s just what friends do.
Also, maybe she and Felix weren’t the problem. Maybe they were the problem. She swears Dedue sustained a head injury when they were taking Myrddin. And Lorenz—why the stress of the battle and the threat of death made him stupid. And Linhardt was probably half asleep during their brief meeting, therefore dreaming about a relationship that wasn’t even there.
Deciding there’s nothing at all that needs to change between herself and Felix because they weren’t acting like a couple, everyone else was just dumb , Annette and Felix head to the dining hall for dinner.
They get their food and take a seat in the far corner. She asks how his day went since she last saw him at breakfast. Before he can explain, two familiar faces come up to them.
“I hope you don’t mind us joining you,” Hilda says.
Annette smiles at her and gestures to the spot on her left. “Of course not!”
Since saving Derdriu, Hilda and a handful of other Alliance territories have offered their assistance, joining them at the monastery. She takes the spot beside Annette while Sylvain settles across the table on Felix’s right.
Felix doesn’t say much, shooting suspicious glances at Sylvain every time he speaks. When they all finish with their dinner, Hilda leans into Annette’s space and looks down at her hand.
“I can’t help but notice the two of you aren’t wearing rings,” Hilda drawls. “I suppose that’s practical given the, well, battles.”
Felix stills as Annette laughs. She tries to sound light-hearted, but it comes out terribly frantic. “Why would we be wearing rings, Hilda?”
“Well aren’t you two married now?”
Annette laughs some more even though there’s nothing to laugh about.
She walked right into that one, didn’t she?
Hilda rests her chin on her palm. “I do love designing accessories. Since we’re old school friends, I’d be happy to give you a discount, Felix. Two for the price of one. I think Annette would look splendid with something sapphire.”
“We—”
Sylvain drops his hand on the table. “Wait. No. Back up.” He looks at Hilda. “You think these two are married?”
“Are they not?”
“Of course not—” But Sylvain pauses. He makes a face as if he’s thinking about it, truly thinking about it, and actually deeming the idea plausible. He turns to Felix to find him positively glowering. Sylvain has the audacity to look hurt. “Felix…did you guys get married?”
“Are you stupid?”
Sylvain takes the lack of a denial as a clear affirmation. “And you didn’t invite me?”
“We’re not married.” Felix punches Sylvain’s arm. “How can you think that? We’ve all been dealing with this war, idiot.”
“Hey, I don’t know what you get up to in your free time.”
“I obviously didn’t get married!”
“But it…makes sense.” Sylvain shakes his head as if he’s been hit with some level of clarity that is obviously just madness. “It makes so much sense.”
“Right?” Hilda goads. “It really does!”
“It actually really doesn’t?!” Annette shouts, still frantically laughing. She should really stop that, but it’s the only thing keeping her from screaming.
“But the two of you had such obvious crushes on each other back when we were students.”
“That—” Annette turns red, ignoring the way Felix looks at her. “That is a lie? I hated him?”
Felix rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”
“That was then!” Annette assures him. “When you were still making fun of me.”
“I was never making fun of you!”
“Now—now we’re friends.”
Felix clenches his jaw and Annette refuses to see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “Of course. Friends.”
“Well, it’s a thin line between love and hate,” Sylvain points out. “And friends and lovers.” The way he glances between Annette and Felix tells her that Sylvain is actually using a fair share of his brain. “And also just a short leap between love and marriage.” He pokes Felix’s arm, unfazed by Felix’s growing rage. “So who oversaw your marriage? Hm, was it Flayn?”
Hilda gasps. “Or the Professor?”
“Or was it the lovely Mercedes?” Sylvain asks with a pout. “And she didn’t tell me? We swore to share all the juiciest gossip.”
“None of them!” Annette yells.
“Someone else then?” Hilda hums as she thinks. “Did you two elope? Gosh, that is just so romantic.”
“No! Because we aren’t married!”
Felix pushes Sylvain off the bench, ignoring the other names he lists. As if a wedding overseen by Professor Manuela would ever be a possibility.
Annette storms out of the dining hall and for whatever reason, Felix goes with her. They’re friends, after all. Friends make sure friends don’t stay upset.
She’s still terribly flustered by Sylvain and Hilda’s silly insinuations. Leaving with Felix probably didn’t do much to convince them that they were very, very wrong, but Annette is on the verge of shouting and Felix is shockingly adept at calming her down. They go to the greenhouse, a short distance away from her room. It’s empty given the later hour, and rather dark given the setting sun. She sits down on the ledge and he joins her.
“Ignore them,” Felix mutters. He runs a hand through his bangs. “Sylvain is an idiot. And Hilda is obviously delusional.”
Annette appreciates his attempts to reassure her, but she’s too smart to not recognize a pattern that she’s been pointedly ignoring for months now.
“Our classmates keep assuming we’re married.” Annette chews her lip. “What if…what if other people think that too and they just haven’t said anything to us?”
What if Mercie thought she got married without her there? What if her father thought she got married during a war?
“Would that be so bad?”
Annette looks at him sharply. “Felix, you’re a man. And you have a much higher standing than I can ever aspire to. Rumors hardly affect your reputation, but they certainly hurt mine.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen.”
Annette sighs because Felix might be a force on the battlefield, but he’ll never have the same effect using his words in court. “You can’t stop rumors.”
“What if they weren’t rumors?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if we were, uh, actually married?”
“If we what—” If she was flustered before, she imagines she must be positively burning now. Annette turns to face him. “Are you…are you asking me to marry you?”
Felix, it seems, is blushing just as much as her. “N—no?”
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean yes. I mean…I mean I don’t know what I mean.”
“Well, you better figure it out!” she yells, poking his arm. “You—you can’t just propose to a woman and then say nevermind , you villain!”
“I didn’t say nevermind!”
“You just said you weren’t asking me to marry you!”
“Because that was an accident!”
“Excuse me?!”
“Stop putting words in my mouth—”
“They’re your words!”
“No, I just—” Felix scrunches his eyes shut and groans. “I just—what I want is—I…”
“Yes?”
“I want to court you,” he blurts out, shifting so he can grab her flailing hands. “I—I want to court you. And I’m not supposed to do that during wartime so I won’t but I want to.” Felix clears his throat. “After. When—when this is all over, I want to buy you stupid presents or whatever.” His grip tightens around her as he turns redder. “I just, uh, got ahead of myself.”
“So you proposed marriage before courtship?”
Felix winces. “Uh…yeah.”
“I see.”
Annette looks at their joined hands, unable to meet his eyes. She knows every callous on his palms and fingertips and knows that if she runs her thumb over his knuckles, he flexes his hand as if her touch makes him shiver.
“If you gave me presents now, I’d be happy to accept them.”
“Oh?” His voice cracks.
Annette nods, a shy smile blooming on her face. “There was this book of sheet music I saw at the market—”
“I can get you that,” Felix interrupts. He pauses, seemingly shocked by his own eagerness, before he shrugs and commits. “I can get whatever you want.”
“Is that so?”
Felix nods.
“What if I want…” Annette bites her lip, bracing herself to be so brazen, “a kiss?”
“Oh.” Felix lets go of her hands, bringing his palm to her jaw as he leans in. “I can definitely do that.”