Chapter Text
“I’m going to find a wife this season,” Felix announced.
Beside him, Sylvain choked on the biscuit he’d just bitten. He coughed, eyes watering as he struggled for air. His face grew red, but Felix only grudgingly smacked Sylvain’s back when the idiot verged on purple. Sylvain spat the glob of food into a napkin and slouched in his chair. He sipped his tea as he caught his breath.
“Care to repeat that?” Sylvain croaked when he finally stopped wheezing. He took another bite of his biscuit, as if daring Felix to drop another piece of news on him.
Felix rolled his eyes and repeated, “I’m looking for a wife.”
But despite his declaration and his father’s wishes, Felix had absolutely no intention of actually getting married anytime soon.
Duke Fraldarius made no effort to waste his usual subtleties on Felix. No, the matter of Felix’s unwed status came up at every meal and after every meeting and during every spar his father wrangled with him. Felix used to be able to ignore him, but Rodrigue had only gotten worse in the past year.
You’re twenty-two now, Felix. You have alliances to make, Felix. You will find a suitable match or I will do it for you, Felix.
After Felix explained that he would be heading to Fhirdiad early, Rodrigue looked up from his books, surprised. His suspicions were allayed with nothing more than a shrug and bland declaration that Felix would be searching for a bride to present to his father when he joined him in the capital a few months later.
“I guess it’s finally starting,” Sylvain mused.
Not many of their own peers had gotten engaged, much less married, but once one person was, the rest would find themselves pressured even more to follow suit.
“If you actually get married, my old man is going to be insufferable trying to get me to do the same.”
Not that Felix actually would get married.
No, Felix had a plan.
And for Felix’s plan to work, even his closest friends needed to believe he was serious about this.
“I suppose marriage doesn’t have to be such a bad thing,” Sylvain offered.
Felix took the words of Fodlan’s greatest philanderer with a grain of salt. “And yet you’re still single,” he pointed out dryly.
“I’m sowing my wild oats, Felix.”
Disgust contorted his features. “You disgust me.”
“You know,” Sylvain began, eyes wistful and downcast. “Sometimes I think the concept of a partner that understands you and supports you and always has your back would be, well, kind of nice.”
Admittedly, the concept wasn’t awful. Felix worked best on his own, but he understood that to lesser people, having someone to make up for their shortcomings on the battlefield or anywhere else truly lifted a burden.
“Anyway, that’s what I would say to a woman to charm her.” Sylvain flashed Felix a grin that worked on others but made Felix roll his eyes. “Feel free to use that line when you’re flirting with your future duchess.”
Felix sipped the whiskey Sylvain had poured into their mugs after finishing the tea.
His future duchess.
Rodrigue Fraldarius would expect a picture of grace, beauty, and charm. A woman with a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and perhaps another language. She would, at the very least, need to possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking. Her tone, her address, and her expressions would need to be graceful and elegant.
Felix was going to find the exact opposite.
She would be disastrous and loud and overly emotional.
He wouldn’t be able to bear even faking a romance with someone lacking at least half a brain, so he supposed she could be vaguely intelligent. She would also need to be decent in combat. Fraldarius was, at its core, a military house, and Felix would never entertain someone unable to fight. Still, she would probably be clumsy in her attacks and destructive in the worst ways possible.
Felix would find the most off-putting mess of a woman Fhirdiad had to offer this season, send her enough flowers to make her think he cared, and then present her to Rodrigue.
And when Rodrigue realized just how ill-suited she was, he would deny the match himself, earning Felix a well-earned respite from the whole marriage business. Even better, depending on how in love his father thought he was, Felix could stretch that reprieve out for at least a year or two.
It would work. He was certain of it.
He just needed to find the right woman.
Hence Sylvain’s presence.
As a self-proclaimed ladies’ man, Sylvain knew many, many people.
“I need you to make—” Felix managed not to grimace, “—introductions.”
Sylvain smiled. He drew his flask from his jacket pocket and topped off their drinks. He lifted his cup, gesturing for Felix to do the same because apparently his decision to begin pursuing potential matches was a moment that required celebration. Felix lifted his own cup mostly because this entire conversation made him want to forget this was happening at all.
“You don’t have to be so happy,” Felix grunted.
“I’ll be as happy as I want to be.” Sylvain held a hand over his heart. “My boy is finally ready to woo a woman.”
-
Felix had attended exactly one of Lorenz Gloucester’s birthday celebrations in the past and in between the flower petals threatening to suffocate him and the forced introductions to “eligible young women of fine stock”, Felix promised himself he would never attend one again.
Alas, Sylvain reminded him that he was in Fhirdiad to find a bride and so a party was the best place to begin that search.
And apparently Lorenz was an old friend.
Much like the last time, every inch of Gloucester Hall was heavily decorated. Wisteria hung from the archways, vines trailed around the columns, and every table had towering vases of fresh blooms. Rather than having this celebration during the day in an actual garden, Gloucester Hall was simply transformed into one instead. Lorenz himself donned a purple suit with the most pristine rose pinned to his label. There was no doubt in Felix’s mind that Lorenz spent at least twenty minutes carefully selecting just which flower to accessorize his outfit with.
Felix knew garland brides could be extravagant, but he didn’t know garland birthday boys could be equally dramatic until Lorenz.
One thing was for certain though. If Felix was searching for the most obnoxious and off-putting bride he could possibly present to his father, he would find that woman here at this nightmare of a party.
As if to prove him right, Hilda Goneril waved at him from across the room.
He made a show of focusing on the glass of whatever it was Sylvain handed him before walking away with an old classmate of Lorenz’s from the Royal School of Sorcery. Perhaps if Felix failed to wave back, something he wouldn’t even do for Ingrid, Hilda would look for someone else to pester. She paid his snub no heed, however, and sauntered across the room.
“Felix!” she called.
Bracing himself for what was likely the first foray into small talk for the night, Felix managed not to groan too loudly.
“Hilda,” he greeted. “How…are you?”
The attempt at small talk actually made her stumble. Was she expecting him to just scowl at her? “I’m…well. I’m wonderful, actually.”
“Great.”
“And you?”
“Fine.” How he despised small talk. “What brings you to Fhirdiad?”
“Why I’m here to consider all the eligible bachelors, of course!”
Felix couldn’t really understand why Alliance nobles like Lorenz and Hilda chose to spend the season here in the Kingdom capital rather than in places like Derdriu to mingle with their own or even Enbarr, where the majority of their noble class were almost always gathered together.
He must’ve made a face, because Hilda’s grin grew wider.
“My big brother would love it if I came home engaged to, say, a king or a duke, but the most important thing to him is that the man is strong.”
Felix snorted. “Why, so he can put up with you?”
Hilda ignored the insult and stepped closer. “Do you still spend all your days training, Felix?”
He did, for the most part, outside of his duties. “Yes.”
“Well that won’t do,” Hilda said. “How ever will you meet all the nice ladies? Would you like me to make introductions?”
He was beginning to hate that word.
“Goddess, no.”
“But that’s what these parties are for, Felix.”
Hilda wasn’t wrong. While on one hand they were all there to celebrate Lorenz Hellman Gloucester creeping another year closer to his end, the reality was that people used the spring and summertime celebrations to mingle. Houses affirmed their alliances and deals, leaders did their share of politicking, and the young, single, and marriageable sought out their best matches. Every musicale, every ball, every garden party was just another opportunity to socialize.
Felix hated it, but this year Felix was grateful for it.
“You know, Felix, I didn’t think I’d see you here at Lorenz’s birthday party.”
He couldn’t exactly tell her he was here to find the woman of Rodrigue Fraldarius’ nightmares.
Instead, he lied, “Lorenz is a dear friend.”
Hilda smiled widely. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Lorenz would be so happy to hear that, I’m sure.”
“You’re right.” Felix knew an opportunity when it fell into his hands. “So I’ll go do that. Instead of talking to you.” He made to move away, but Sylvain soon reappeared to sidle up to Hilda, having apparently given up on the last woman he was pursuing.
Sylvain grasped his old housemate’s hand and pressed a kiss upon her knuckles. “Lady Goneril, it’s always a pleasure to see your beautiful face.”
“Oh Sylvain,” she cooed as she drew her hand away. “I forgot how much I enjoyed your empty flattery. Please, go on. Tell me that my earrings bring out my eyes!”
“Hilda, you wound me,” Sylvain complained, clutching his chest. “I would never lie to a woman.”
That was, of course, completely untrue. Sylvain always lied to women.
With Hilda distracted by Sylvain, Felix decided he didn’t actually need to go speak to Lorenz. He probably should at some point, if only to politely greet him with a happy birthday. But then that would require listening to Lorenz discuss the ever illustrious duties of the nobility while existing in the vicinity of Lorenz’s cologne.
Felix would much rather retreat into a new corner that Hilda wouldn’t be able to invade and continue his search for a bride.
He aimed to do as such when he heard a cry about misplaced barrels followed by cold wetness seeping into his shirt.
“Oh no!”
Felix took a breath and looked up at the flowers on the ceiling to avoid scowling at the woman that just stumbled into him.
“I am so, so sorry!”
He imagined that if he actually did look at the woman that just spilled her damn drink on him, he’d glare at her in the way that usually sent bandits cowering. Such a stare didn’t really belong at Lorenz’s birthday bash. Or maybe it did. Maybe if he wore that look permanently, people wouldn’t bother him. She was in the middle of patting a handkerchief against his shirt when he swatted her hands away.
“I really am sorry—oh! Felix?”
Now Felix did look down. His attacker was short, with freckled cheeks and bright blue eyes. Her red hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She smiled, looking cuter than someone who just assaulted him should, and he honestly had no idea who she was. How did she know him?
“Wow, I haven’t seen you since graduation!”
Someone from Garreg Mach?
“It’s so nice to see you again!”
Definitely someone from Garreg Mach.
“Hello,” he replied, managing not to make that sound like a question.
The greeting was enough to have her forget about the mess she made entirely. “What have you been up to? How long will you be in Fhirdiad—”
Felix stared at her as she mostly spoke at him and slowly grew more familiar.
Her name was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t quite get it. He struggled to place her until he remembered the one time he’d been picked up by an excalibur spell that nearly broke his arm.
Yes, they attended school together five years ago. She was part of the Golden Deer house. Perhaps if they studied at the officers academy back when they sorted students by where they came from rather than mixing them up to allow them to build stronger foreign relationships, Felix would actually remember her name.
He began to recall the important things, of course.
Wind mage, surprisingly good with an axe, more clumsy that anyone could possibly be.
She was the one who once caused a kitchen fire that only got worse because she tried solving it with a wind spell. And now that he was looking at her, Felix remembered her walking into Seteth’s weekend lecture soaked to the bone because she fell in the pond on her way over. And apparently she was the one that caused the giant globe in the library to fall out of place, crushing a table but missing any students. That shouldn’t have even been possible.
She was in Sylvain’s class, she had the audacity to throw a spell at him at the Battle of Eagle and Lion, and she asked everyone if they liked sweet food or spicy food during their first month.
Also, she had a crest.
The Crest of Dominic.
Now he remembered.
“Annette Dominic.”
Whatever she was about to say about the new confectionary that opened died on her tongue. Her lips thinned as it became clear to her that she’d been speaking to him for a full two minutes while he was trying to remember her name.
“Did you…” Annette Dominic glared up at him like an angry kitten that thought she was the size of a lioness. “Did you forget my name?”
“No,” he lied poorly.
“You forgot my name.”
“I remembered it eventually.”
“You forgot my name!”
“You’re the one who burned the kitchen down during Blue Sea Moon, right?”
She drew back, eyes wide like she’d been caught even though that was just common knowledge when they were at Garreg Mach.
“I didn’t burn the kitchen down,” she heatedly denied. “It was a very minor fire.”
“Didn’t the oven explode?”
“Flayn said the oven was already on its way out!”
“So then that was you.”
What a disaster this woman was.
Felix almost grinned as an idea sprung to mind.
“Stop it, Felix!”
He needed to be sure though, so he continued to press her. “And you fell in the pond once, right?”
“No,” she muttered. “I fell in the pond twice.”
“Perfect. Wait, what?”
“I mean—ugh, shut up!” Had she not already spilled her drink on him, Felix imagined she would have thrown it in his face by now. Instead, Annette took a deep breath, although that did nothing to coax away the red on her cheeks. She shoved an indignant finger in his face. “You are very rude, you know!”
Felix took her outstretched hand into his own.
Not only was she a graceless mess that, if he recalled correctly and recently experienced, was prone to tripping on air, but she was loud, audacious, and clearly didn’t care for him.
She was the one he’d been searching for.
“Annette, will you marry me?”
-
Annette understood that being noble, crested, and female, marriage was undeniably inescapable.
Ever since she came to live with him, her uncle never once entertained potential offers. They both agreed that her education was important, if not for marriage prospects, then for her own betterment.
But then Annette excelled at the Royal School of Sorcery. And then Annette received a recommendation to attend the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach. And then Professor Hanneman wrote her a glowing recommendation that earned her a research assistant position at her alma mater.
The unspoken understanding had always been that Annette would use her time at Garreg Mach for its other purpose: to find a potential match. But in the Golden Deer house alone, Claude heard her singing once so he simply had to be put down, Sylvain was honestly just kind of gross, Linhardt was the laziest person she had ever met, and Ashe became one of her dearest friends too quickly for her to even consider him in that light.
So when Annette returned from her last year of study with a job offer instead of a marriage proposal, her uncle wasn’t particularly pleased. He didn’t deny her the opportunity though, especially since it was in Fhirdiad.
Their then very much spoken deal was that Baron Dominic would continue to send Annette an allowance to support her in addition to her meager stipend, but only for five years. According to him and her mother, five years would be enough for her to “satisfy her fancy for academia” and “get that out of her system”. At the end of those five years, Annette would need to begin taking marriage offers seriously.
She didn’t expect her first offer to come so soon after her uncle’s time limit ran up.
And from an old classmate, at that.
Worse, one who was so rude.
“What did you just ask me?” she sputtered, honestly unsure if she heard him right.
“To marry me.”
“What?”
She spied Hilda across the room, turning away from Sylvain to blatantly stare at Annette and Felix after that shout. Hilda’s grin was curious and she wasted no time ditching the other man to come investigate.
Felix groaned as he noticed her approach. “Come on,” he muttered.
He pulled her towards the balcony, reminding Annette that he was still holding her hand.
“Wait—”
Felix paid her no heed, pulling her through the throngs of people and out into the nighttime chill. How rude of him to insult her for the past five minutes, spring a marriage proposal on her, and then take her outside without her coat. She hardly knew Felix Fraldarius beyond his reputation as prickly and aloof but this was beginning to be a bit much.
“You can’t just drag a woman outside, Felix!” She ripped her hand out of his grip to poke him. “And you can’t just randomly propose to her either!”
He had the gall to roll his eyes. “There’s no need to be so dramatic.”
“I’ll be as dramatic as I want to be!” she declared. She had every reason to be, after all. “Why would you ask me to marry you?”
“My father wants me to get married. I don’t want to get married.”
“And so…you asked me to marry you?”
“Yes.”
“That—you— what?!”
He didn’t seem to think he said anything wrong, which was positively infuriating. “If I find a reasonably distasteful bride, then he’ll step in to disapprove of the match.”
“A reasonably distasteful bride—” Annette considered throwing her empty cup at him, but didn’t want to ruin one of Lorenz’s pretty glasses. She put it down on a bench for safekeeping and then jabbed a finger in Felix’s face. “Is that supposed to be me ?!”
“Obviously.”
Annette couldn’t comprehend where this man’s audacity came from. “You’re calling me distasteful?!”
“Maybe that was a poor word choice.” Felix waved a dismissive hand as he amended, “Disastrous, if you will.”
“I will not.”
“A mess then.”
“Neither of those are better, Felix!”
“Anyway,” he continued, “After the relationship ends because of my father, I’ll get myself at least another year without this marriage nonsense.”
“That makes no sense!”
“Sure it does.” Felix nodded to himself, infuriatingly confident in his plan. “He’ll prevent me from being with the so-called love of my life and then I’ll be, you know, heartbroken or whatever.”
“And that’s me? How can you be heartbroken when you literally forgot my name?”
“I didn’t forget you.”
She blinked. Her rage fizzled as his choice of words stirred something in her that made her blush. “W—what?”
“Wind magic disaster girl.”
The stirring immediately ceased. “How dare you!”
Felix’s plan was simplistic and relied on the famously shrewd Duke Fraldarius being foolish enough to think that Felix was even capable of moping over a forbidden romance, much less actively pursuing one. Surely the only thing Felix moped over was coming in second place or breaking a sword or not having the chance to insult someone. But if Felix was actually capable of acting and somehow he did find a suitably distasteful woman that was amenable to playing at romance with him, perhaps his plan really could work on his father.
And perhaps it could work on her uncle too.
Annette crossed her arms, scanning Felix up and down and failing to find any acceptable—much less redeeming—qualities.
She never had any strong impressions of him at Garreg Mach beyond “scowly strong sword guy” but somehow in the span of ten or so minutes, he solidified the fact that he really was the worst.
But that meant that by his own plan’s logic, he was perfect.
If Annette wrote to her uncle to tell him of a courtship with Felix Fraldarius, she would be able to stay in Fhirdiad just a little bit longer.
More importantly, she would be able to accept the teaching position the School of Sorcery finally offered her.
Annette had been reasonably disheartened when their offer came at the end of the five year time frame her uncle had given her. But if she told him that she was pursuing a match here in Fhirdiad, he would definitely continue to support her. And even if Felix and her ended things a few months later, she would be well into the school year and surely her uncle wouldn’t pull her out of the job part way through.
Felix, it turned out, actually had a knack for unconventional plans.
But was he any good at acting?
“I won’t marry you,” Annette said, finally answering his initial question. “But I’m open to courtship.”
Her answer seemed to surprise him. “What?”
“Engagement would be a bit much, wouldn’t it? And it might look poorly on both of us. But courtship…courtship would be enough for your problem. And, well,” Annette raised her chin, meeting Felix’s appraising stare with her own, “mine.”
“Yours?”
“I’ve been a research assistant at the Royal School of Sorcery since we graduated.” She took a moment to pointedly glare at him. “Graduated Garreg Mach, that is.”
“Goddess.”
“Because we attended at the same time.”
“Okay.”
“Together.”
“I remembered your name eventually.”
“That doesn’t make it better!” Annette pursed her lips. She took a deep breath before continuing, “Anyway, one professor had to take a last minute leave of absence and I was just offered his position for the rest of the school year. If I tell my uncle I need to stay here because you’re courting me, he’ll agree to let me stay.”
He would. He definitely would.
“And similarly,” she continued, taking a moment to smile sweetly, “I don’t think he would approve of me marrying a villain like you.”
This plan was stupid and Felix was awful and yet somehow he was the solution Annette hadn’t even considered looking for.
“This can work,” she breathed. She genuinely believed that. “This can actually work.”
“It can,” Felix agreed.
“My uncle would think you’re dreadful.”
“My father would think you’d set our kitchen on fire too.”
“He would deny the match the moment he met you.”
“Assuming my father didn’t do so first.”
“And you’re just so rude.”
“Really, how did you cause the globe to fall over?”
“Shut up!”
“It’s a perfectly valid question.”
“Felix, you’re unbearable.”
“Do you blow up libraries in addition to kitchens?”
Only when Annette leaned in closer did she realize Felix did too.
“You’re perfect,” they both decided.
She began to laugh, something he hardly deserved after having insulted her so much. She grinned at her dark knight in prickly armour and he almost smiled back.
This could save her burgeoning career.
This could actually work.
“How long would this need to last?” she asked.
“How long does it take to fall in love?”
Annette shrugged. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
He made a face that said that he did not.
“Let’s go with four months then?”
“Three.”
Annette wasn’t going to oppose that. The less time with him, the better. “Perhaps at least until the King’s Ball?”
The King’s Ball marked the end of summer. More importantly, it was a party full of engagements. Those that were newly engaged not-so-subtly announced as such by attending together and with new rings to boot, while couples that were still on the cusp usually found that last push needed for a proposal.
This would be the perfect place for her to pretend to be so desperately in love with Felix that her uncle had to step in to prevent her from tying herself to such an utter villain that would only make her miserable for the rest of her life because he was so evil.
“That sounds reasonable,” Felix replied.
“Would your father strike before then?”
“Only if you set our townhouse on fire.”
“Felix!”
He was dreadfully annoying, but she supposed that was necessary.
Resolute, Annette held her hand out to him. They would need to iron out the finer details another day. She didn’t know Felix very well, but she figured a friend of Sylvain’s would have as much honour as him.
Which, now that she thought about it, meant very little.
Still, they had been outside by themselves far too long for Hilda to not have noticed. She would have questions. Although perhaps that would work in their best interest.
“Three months of courtship then,” Annette declared.
Three months of acting out a completely nonexistent, completely impossible romance with a completely incompatible man. Annette took tea with dreadful people all the time. And she enjoyed going for walks that to do so with a villain would be tolerable. And with her academic career finally making headway, three months of pretending to have any affection for Felix Fraldarius would be worth it.
Felix grasped her hand and shook it.
Annette was pleased to feel not even the slightest shock or stirring from his skin touching hers.
“We have a deal.”