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"Hold, Felix," Rodrigue said, sharper than he usually was.
Felix stiffened, putting his hand on the back of the chair and drumming his fingers. "What?"
Rodrigue let out a long-suffering sigh. "I wish to speak with you about the Officer's Academy."
"What is there to say?" Felix said, holding his head high. "Do you think I will disappoint you?"
"No," Rodrigue said. "It's something else. Look at me, Felix."
Grudgingly, Felix turned around. His father was seated at the end of the table, the lonely Shield of Faerghus, useless and old-fashioned. Much as he knew his son despised it, meals taken together were a requirement. Rodrigue must have despised it as well, the silence and the rift that had only ever grown since Glenn's death.
"You know that--that Glenn was engaged to Ingrid at her birth," Rodrigue said.
"I'm not marrying her," Felix interrupted. "If you even think--"
"--Felix, let me finish--"
"--that I can take Glenn's place and fulfill some sick obligation to the Galateas, you're wrong!"
Rodrigue rubbed his temple. His eyes flicked to the corner of the room and he grit his teeth. "That isn't what I was going to say."
Felix crossed his arms and raised his chin, daring his old man to proceed.
"Your mother and I felt no--we wanted you to be allowed to choose a partner for yourself, or none at all. You had more freedom, as the second-born. And now--well."
"I'm waiting for you to get to the point," Felix said, barely keeping his voice even.
Rodrigue pushed his plate away so that he could lean his elbows on the table. Absently, he fiddled with his wedding band. Felix's mother had been in the ground far longer than Glenn, but the old man still wore the token. Felix had never seen him without it.
"I'm not going to arrange something for you. I'm not even saying that you must find someone--there are offshoots and cousins who can pass down our Crest. But--I want you to think about it. There will be many people from all over Fodlan at the Academy, and if you do find someone that you might grow to love--I want you to pursue it. I want you to pursue happiness for a change."
Felix snorted. "Is that all?"
"Felix," Rodrigue said, pleading.
"What do you want me to say?" Felix demanded.
Rodrigue inhaled, and pushed some of his loose hair back. Felix could never see why he didn't hack it off if he refused to tie it back. It would only be a liability.
"I want your word that you'll do this. I want to know that you won't spend all your time at the training hall," Rodrigue said, and Felix knew that it was petulant to feel so upset by it.
"I'm not going there to make friends, I'm going to get stronger," Felix snapped.
Rodrigue shot him a glare. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. It's admirable that you want to improve your skills, but you mustn't let it be all that you are. This is an order, Felix--I want you to socialize. You're seventeen, someday you will regret not using this time to forge bonds of friendship, or romance."
"No I won't," Felix grumbled, looking down. "I'm not--"
"It's an order, Felix. At least say you'll try."
"I don't want to," Felix said, and now he really sounded childish. He felt his cheeks heating up, and he hated it.
"What is wrong with you?" Rodrigue almost yelled. He grimaced, and bit down on his knuckle. "Why can't you do this one thing? I'm worried about you."
Felix wished he could turn and run from the room. "I'm not talking about this."
"What do you want then? To grip a sword until you die?" Rodrigue asked. When Felix dared to look at him, the old man looked hurt. He turned his face away so as not to see it.
"Yeah."
"I don't want that for you. Look at you--since that day--you used to have friends, you used to laugh, you used to be happy--you're allowed that. You're still allowed that."
Felix hugged his shoulders. "What if I can't."
He regretted saying it immediately, and flinched. This was everything he'd been trying to avoid.
Rodrigue stood up. Felix took a step back, inadvertently. He didn't want any contact, he couldn't handle it right now--especially from Rodrigue, when Felix did have something he needed to say.
"Felix," Rodrigue breathed, thankfully not coming any closer. "You can. You will."
Shaking his head, Felix chewed on the inside of his cheek. "That isn't what I'm talking about."
"Then what are you trying to say?" Rodrigue asked, gently.
Felix shut his eyes. "I don't think I can."
When he didn't add anything further, Rodrigue cautiously said, "You don't think you can be happy, or you don't think you can make friends?"
"I don't want to make friends," Felix said, hoping that they would just not talk about the first half of Rodrigue's sentence. "I don't think I can--do what you want. Find someone."
He chanced a look at the old man. Rodrigue looked sympathetic, and Felix hated that. He didn't want pity. He wasn't feeling sorry for himself about it.
"I don't get what Sylvain ever talked about. Wanting to chase after girls. I never felt that," Felix said, quietly, bracing himself for the old man to assure him that he'd understand it, someday. "It's not important. Forget it." He turned away to leave without dismissal--not that he ever needed it before this to storm out of any room that held his father.
"Felix, wait," Rodrigue said.
There was no way Felix would be doing that. He tried to keep from hiking his shoulders up to his ears and strode to the door.
"Felix! It's important to me if it is to you," Rodrigue said.
Freezing, Felix knew that it wasn't the truth. If Rodrigue really meant it, then he would understand why Felix needed to train. He would understand why what he'd said about Glenn had hurt so badly. The old man didn't care, Felix knew this, but a part of him was desperate to be heard, and seen, and no matter how he tried to quash it, he couldn't stop himself from speaking.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to feel when it comes to that. To romance and attraction. I should know what it feels like, shouldn't I? But I don't. And I don't need it to change." Felix could not believe it, but he felt like he was going to cry. It was a stupid thing to cry about, and he'd made himself stronger than this. Even though he wasn't facing his father, he felt like too much of himself was visible, and it burned.
"I understand," Rodrigue said.
Felix rounded on him. "No you don't!"
To his surprise, Rodrigue was smiling. It put him even more on guard, knowing that now the old man was aware of this, that he might see it as a failing.
"Help me to," Rodrigue said.
Felix seethed, balling up his fists.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, or for me to be upset about. I'm not angry, Felix."
Maybe Felix wished that he would be. He wanted a fight, that was all he was good for, anyway.
Rodrigue looked off towards the corner of the room. "Your uncle was the same."
"And? I don't think--I don't think that I'm ever going to change--"
"Percival didn't change. He still doesn't fall in love the way that I did. You might never fall in love, and you might do it in a way that is unique to you," Rodrigue said.
Felix looked at him, glad that his father was still not trying to force eye contact. It gave him time to study the old man's face, and he couldn't see any condescension on it. Slowly, Felix let his hands relax.
"You want me to find a romantic partner at the Officer's Academy. You want me to find someone to be the next Duchess and have an heir," Felix accused.
"No. I want you to be happy. I want you not to be alone, Felix. I'm sorry that--that I made you speak of this, if you didn't want me to know," Rodrigue added.
With a frown, Felix thought about the way he'd needed to say it. It hadn't been because of anything his old man had said. "It's who I am. You should know it."
Rodrigue stood straighter. "And I am proud of that. Thank you for telling me about this. It's the mark of a true Fraldarius that you carry yourself with pride in who you are."
Felix winced, but at least the old man hadn't gone that one step further and said that it was the mark of a true knight. Still, it put him on edge, ruining what he had, foolishly, started to feel optimistic about.
"I don't care what you think of me," Felix retorted.
"Very well, then," Rodrigue said. "But my order still stands thusly--just because you feel no attraction, doesn't mean you can't form meaningful connections. I want you to try."
It made Felix's insides squirm, like his old man knew that Felix would have used it as an excuse not to bother with anyone, be they his old friends or new acquaintances.
"There will be people at Garreg Mach who will understand you," Rodrigue promised, softly. "For this part of you, and for what you've gone through."
Before Rodrigue could insinuate that Dimitri and Ingrid would understand him, Felix nodded.
"Very well. I shall make an attempt. Is there anything else?"
"Yes. You'll write to me, monthly?" Rodrigue said it like a question, as if he knew he was asking too much.
Felix scoffed. "What will happen if I don't?"
"I won't write back, with spending money for new swords," Rodrigue said with a smirk of triumph.
"It's a monastery," Felix said, cautiously.
"Frequented by knights. There is a market, and there are blacksmiths you will be able to purchase from," Rodrigue said.
Felix turned away to hide his expression of greed. "Fine. I suppose I can write to you. But don't expect anything long--I'll have schoolwork to complete, as well."
"That's fine with me. Thank you, Felix," Rodrigue said.
Rolling his eyes, Felix turned on his heel and headed for the door. The old man had no more to say, which suited Felix. He stopped partway down the hall, to sift through everything he'd said and decide how he felt about it all.
He'd said it. Felix still felt anxious, from the anticipation that this conversation might have turned into a fight. It hadn't, somehow, though it had been close. He didn't think he could or would make friends the way that his father wanted. But at least the old man wasn't upset by Felix's declaration.
It shouldn't have mattered to Felix, at this point, but something inside his chest was loosening, gradually, as he thought about it. Whether or not he'd meant it, Rodrigue had said something close to the right thing for a change. Felix didn't want to be optimistic. He didn't really want to mend things, anyway. But he felt better about something, knowing that this wouldn't be another problem between him and his father.
And Felix would gladly scrounge a few words together for a letter, if he really would be able to find decent blades at the market at Garreg Mach.