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Garreg Mach’s first snowfall of the season comes suddenly and all at once, coating the ancient monastery grounds in a cloak of frosted white. Felix glances out the window, mesmerized as downy flakes descend in dizzy little spirals. He has to admit it looks very enticing from where he’s sitting in his room, hunched over some dusty old book and attempting to study for tomorrow’s exam. He’s just about to tear his gaze away from the scene when he hears a muffled knock on the door.
He doesn’t even need to turn around to guess who it is.
“Hey, Felix.”
Sylvain has always had a habit of appearing at the most inconvenient of times, and today is no exception. Not that Felix truly minds. He’d almost been hoping Sylvain would come distract him from his studies. Even listening to Sylvain ramble on about his latest romantic exploits might be a welcome distraction at this point, though something in Felix’s stomach twists at the thought.
Sylvain is standing in the doorway, bouncing up and down excitedly on the balls of his feet. He’s clearly just been outside—his cheeks are tinged a ruddy red, and Felix can’t help but notice the sprinkling of snowflakes scattered throughout Sylvain’s hair like powdered sugar. It’s insane, really, how his best friend looks so good in any kind of weather. It’s not fair Sylvain happens to be one of the most attractive men in Fódlan—or so he’s heard. Felix wouldn’t know, because Felix is definitely not anything but completely and totally heterosexual.
“Felix?”
Ah, right. He’s been staring at Sylvain in silence for a full thirty seconds. He clears his throat and shakes his head, willing himself to snap out of it.
“What?”
“Want to come play in the snow?” Sylvain asks. “You’ve been cooped up in here for hours. I figured you could use a break.”
Felix raises an eyebrow. “Play in the snow?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“We’re not children anymore.”
“Aw, c’mon. You used to love it when we were little. Plus, all the others are already out there, and it’s not the same without you.”
“I’m busy,” Felix shoots back, trying valiantly not to read too much into it’s not the same without you. “I need to study.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Pretty please?” Sylvain does his best impression of a sad puppy dog begging for table scraps.
Felix hesitates. He tries to scowl at Sylvain, but judging from the redhead’s complete lack of reaction it likely came out as a slight frown at best.
“C’mon, Fe,” Sylvain pleads, and Felix feels the heat rise to his cheeks at the sound of his childhood nickname, “I promise you can get right back to studying afterwards. Just for a little bit?”
❖❖❖
Felix has never been able to say no to Sylvain.
“Just for a little bit,” Felix reiterates as they step out into the winter wonderland. “I’m going right back to studying as soon as we’re done here.”
Sylvain hums, smiling wide as he leads Felix toward the monastery’s courtyard, where their friends are gathered playing with the freshly fallen snow. Annette, Mercedes, and Ashe are making snow angels, Dimitri and Dedue are carefully constructing a snow fort by the Blue Lions’ classroom, and Ingrid is sculpting what looks like a snow pegasus, its icy wings spread wide in frozen flight. The other houses are out enjoying the snow, too, and the sounds of laughter and delighted shouts filling the air.
It’s…a really nice scene, actually. Felix is glad Sylvain dragged him out here, though he’d rather jump in the frozen fishing pond than admit it.
He’s just about to make his way over to the rest of the group when he hears shouting coming from behind him.
“LOOK OUT!”
Felix barely has time to turn towards the source of the noise before something small and hard slams into his torso and he falls to his knees gasping for breath.
He vaguely registers Sylvain’s expression of concern and someone yelling oh shit! as he groans and Sylvain helps him stumble back to his feet. When he finally straightens up again, that blue-haired idiot from the Black Eagles house—Caspar, was it?—is standing before him with the guiltiest expression Felix has ever seen.
“Heh, whoops!” Caspar smiles awkwardly. “Sorry about that snowball. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
“You didn’t mean to hit me.” Felix says flatly, his temper flaring. He’d been annoyed by Caspar ever since he first set eyes on him at the start of the year, but perhaps he underestimated his strength. He can feel the bruise already forming against his ribs.
Caspar shrugs. “Petra and I were just having a friendly snowball fight, and I guess I threw that one a little too hard and lost control.”
“You lost control,” Felix growls. Caspar’s getting nervous now, but that’s not going to stop Felix from wanting to pummel his stupid, hedgehog-looking ass into next week.
“Hey, Felix,” Sylvain says gently, “it was an accident, okay? Why don’t we go help Ingrid with her snow pegasus—“
Accident or not, Felix Hugo Fraldarius is not the type of person to take something like this lightly. “I don’t want to help Ingrid with her stupid snow pegasus,” Felix snaps, and he faintly hears Ingrid’s indignant hey! from somewhere behind him.
But he’s fully focused on Caspar now, who seems to be slowly realizing that Felix is not just going to let this go. Because Felix is a proud, insufferable, stubborn bastard, and no one nails him with a snowball and gets away with it. It goes against everything he stands for—as a person, as a fighter, and, most importantly, as someone who grew up in Faerghus and knows damn well how to throw a snowball.
A crowd is slowly forming as Caspar’s pleas become more and more frantic, and soon enough the entirety of the Black Eagles house is gathered behind him. The commotion has attracted the attention of the Blue Lions as well, and Felix suddenly finds himself at the center of a frosty, inter-house standoff. If Felix were thinking more clearly, he might realize this little brouhaha has the potential to snowball—no pun intended—into a foreign relations disaster.
But Felix is thinking of one thing and one thing only: revenge.
“I swear I didn’t mean to!” Caspar says again, holding his hands up in mock surrender as Petra watches from behind him, her expression far more amused than concerned.
Felix says nothing. Instead, he bends down and grabs a handful of the densest snow he can find and starts meticulously packing it into a sphere in his gloved hands, a talent well-honed from a lifetime of northern winters.
Caspar watches with apprehension as Felix tests the snowball’s heft by tossing it up and down in the air. “Felix, I—“
His next words are lost to the wind as Felix whips his perfectly formed projectile straight at Caspar’s chest. The crowd gasps as the snowball explodes on impact, and Felix smiles triumphantly as Caspar topples over.
That is, until all hell breaks loose.
Felix isn’t sure which side throws the next snowball, but before he can think twice he’s back on the ground taking cover from what feels like an absolute deluge of icy artillery. There’s some angry shouting and a lot of panicked screaming amid the unrelenting thwack thwack thwack of each snowy missile hitting its target. He joins in as his classmates fling snow at each other with wild abandon, the brisk winter air pierced with cries of long live Faerghus! and for Adrestia!
Within minutes the Blue Lions and Black Eagles have officially turned the normally tranquil courtyard into an all-out war zone. To make matters worse, at some point the Golden Deer seem to have decided now is the perfect time to insert themselves into the fray, which only ups the chaos exponentially.
Felix watches as Ingrid screeches with rage as her snow pegasus sculpture is pummeled by snowballs, runs for cover as Hubert and Dorothea square up to take on Annette and Mercedes, and barely dodges a well-aimed snowball thrown his way by a smirking Leonie.
He finds himself catching his breath in Dimitri and Dedue’s half-finished snow fort. Sylvain is right across the way hiding behind one of the pillars by the classrooms. He shrugs and shoots Felix a friendly but exasperated smile as if to say Well, look what you’ve done. Are you happy now?
Actually, yes, Felix is happy now. This is the most fun he’s had in weeks. He braces himself to rejoin the battle, but before he can, a single cry cuts through the air.
“Enough!”
Time itself seems to stop as everyone freezes in place mid-stride, snowballs still in hand. Byleth is standing in the middle of the courtyard, arms crossed, expression inscrutable aside from the smallest hint of a smile.
“And what exactly is happening here?” they ask, as if the answer isn’t completely self-explanatory.
“We’re just having some fun,” Claude shrugs.
“Yes, nothing’s wrong, professor,” Dimitri says. “Simply a friendly game to show our inter-house rivalry.”
“That’s correct,” Edelgard adds. “My sincerest apologies if we’ve disturbed the peace.”
Byleth shakes their head. “No need for an apology. But if I may, I might suggest a more…structured approach to a snowball battle.”
“‘Structured?’ What’s the point of that?” Felix asks, voice dripping with doubt. Snowball fights are supposed to be pure chaos. War is pure chaos. They wouldn’t have any structure if they were out fighting for their lives on the battlefield.
Byleth raises an eyebrow. “Would you rather I get someone else from the administration to handle this?”
Felix frowns. The last thing he needs is yet another talking to from Seteth. Nor does he need a lecture from Professor Hanneman or Professor Manuela—they’re both buzzkills in their own way when they’re not bickering with each other over their latest inane disagreement. No, he’s perfectly fine letting Byleth take this one.
“How about a little friendly competition? House against house against house, last one standing wins,” Byleth proposes. “I’ll be the referee. Think of it as training for your next mock battle.”
Hilda raises her hand. “Um, professor, do we get anything if we win?”
Byleth pauses, hand resting on the side of their face as they consider the question. “The winning class will receive an automatic pass on tomorrow’s exam.”
Felix steels himself as an excited murmur ripples through the gathered students. Now things are getting interesting. Not that he needed any extra incentive to participate in a monastery-wide snowball fight aside from the explicit permission to pummel his classmates.
They crowd around as Byleth sets some ground rules: no magic, no weapons or mounts, and if you get hit by a snowball, you’re eliminated. Each house will get a few minutes to prepare, then it’s game on.
Felix is practically vibrating out of his skin with excitement as the Blue Lions all form a huddle. He shoots a few furtive glances over to where the Black Eagles and Golden Deer are gathered in opposite corners of the courtyard, then turns to face his countrymen.
“We have to win,” Felix says, staring intently at each of the faces before him in turn. Sylvain smiles at him when their eyes meet, and for a second Felix loses focus—but he’s not going to let even Sylvain’s annoyingly perfect face distract him from the task at hand.
Winning this snowball battle is a point of national pride. Who would they be if they, sons and daughters of Faerghus, lost to some lousy southerners? Losers, that’s who.
“So who’s with me? If you’re not going to pull your weight, speak up now.”
“I’m all for a fun game,” Ashe says, “but don’t you think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”
“No, I’m with Felix.” Ingrid nods. “We need to beat them. They destroyed my snow pegasus.”
Dimitri shakes his head. “I’m not sure I should continue to participate. The last time I was in a snowball fight, it resulted in an unfortunate injury.”
“Oh no!” Annette says. “But you’re okay now, right?”
“Erm,” Dimitri says, “I wasn’t the one who was hurt.”
“His Highness’s crest activated mid-throw,” Dedue explains as the rest of the Blue Lions grimace. “Do not worry. His target was badly injured, but survived.”
Mercedes covers her mouth. “Oh dear.”
“Focus, everyone,” Felix says. “Fine. Boar, if you’re not comfortable participating, you can at least act as a decoy. Dedue—”
“I will protect His Highness.”
“I want to go after the Black Eagles,” Ingrid volunteers. “Let’s show them what a real snowball fight looks like.”
“Alright, I’ll join you.” Ashe clenches his fist in the air. “I may not be the strongest, but I can throw a snowball farther than almost anyone.”
“Mercie and I can take on the Golden Deer.” Annette says, clasping her hands in excitement as Mercedes nods beside her. “It’ll be fun!”
Felix resists the urge to tell Annette that fun is not the point of all this as he turns to Sylvain. “You’ve been quiet. What do you think?”
Sylvain shrugs. “How about you and I pair up? It’ll be just like old times.”
Felix considers the proposition. He had been planning to lone wolf it—maybe sneak past the enemy while they’re distracted and pick them off from the shadows, or go out in a blaze of glory and bring down as many others as possible with him. But he knows from countless training sessions with Sylvain that they fight better together. And he supposes having someone to cover his back can’t hurt.
“Fine,” Felix concedes. “But you’ve got to take this seriously. No fooling around, or I’ll eliminate you myself.”
“Me? Fooling around? Never,” Sylvain says with a wink that has Felix blushing red hot despite the chilly weather.
“Is everyone prepared?” Byleth’s voice rings out across the courtyard.
The students stand at attention as a hush falls over the scene.
“On my mark. Get set. Go!”
Dozens of snowballs arc through the air as some students go on the offensive immediately, while others run for the hills amid the chaos. Felix and Sylvain take cover behind the nearest wall to watch the hostilities unfold. They cringe as the battle’s first casualty, Lorenz, shouts indignantly at his attacker, Dorothea, before the latter disappears into the bushes on the other side of the courtyard. The rest of the students seem to have escaped unscathed and have scattered to different parts of the monastery.
Felix had been hoping this would be a quick brawl for dominance, but it’s looking like they’re going to have to track down the rest of their opponents one by one. No matter. He and Sylvain will find a way, like they always have.
They pick a set of tracks to follow and set off toward the lower half of the monastery, trudging through the snow past the dormitories. There’s no one around, but Felix is on high alert for any signs of an ambush. Sylvain seems a bit less invested, though he’s at the very least humoring Felix’s determination by staying silent and keeping an eye out for any other students.
They come to a dead end by the greenhouse. The winter storm shows no sign of stopping, and the tracks they’ve been following have been completely obscured by new snow.
Felix scans the horizon for signs of life and comes up empty. He supposes someone will have to show themselves eventually.
“Hey, Felix.” Sylvain says.
“What?”
“Remember when we used to get into snowball fights as kids?”
“I remember.”
“You always wanted to win. Some things never change, huh?”
“And you always wanted to goof off.”
“Hey, I just wanted to have fun.”
“Winning is fun, Sylvain.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sylvain shrugs. “You know, you were so cute back then—“
“Shut it,” Felix says.
“What? You were adorable. You still are—“
“Sylvain,” Felix whispers, bringing a finger up to his mouth to shush him. “Do you hear something?”
Sylvain pauses, and they stand still to listen. Everything around them is muffled by the softly falling snow, and aside from the whistling of the wind, there’s only silence.
“Hmph. Could have sworn I—”
“FOR BRIGID!”
“Watch out!”
Sylvain’s grabs Felix by the waist to yank him out of the way just in time. Felix watches as a snowball misses him by mere inches, flying straight through right where he had been standing. They turn to face their attackers to see Petra jumping down from the nearest tree yelling like mad as Caspar comes barreling out of a bush, his arms full of snowballs that he starts to chuck wildly every which way.
Felix curses as one of Caspar’s throws explodes against the greenhouse glass directly over his head, creating a resounding boom that echoes off the monastery walls. How could they be so careless? They’re pinned down now, dodging left and right as Petra and Caspar zero in on them.
Thankfully, Ingrid and Ashe appear at the exact right moment, charging forward to engage Petra and Caspar in icy combat. Each of them has an armful of snowballs ready to go, and they shout as they run past a very bewildered Felix and Sylvain.
“Go!” Ingrid shouts. “We’ve got this!”
Felix would normally resent being told to fall back, but Ingrid and Ashe are clearly far more prepared than Sylvain and Felix are, so they take the opportunity to run. They come to a stop behind the crates on the other side of the fishing pond, hot white puffs of condensation forming in the chilly air as they catch their breath.
“You saved me,” Felix says between pants. The spot where Sylvain’s hands wrapped around his waist burns like fire, and Felix tries desperately to push any non-snowball-related thoughts out of his mind. “Thank you, Sylvain.”
“Don’t mention it. You would have done the same for me.”
They appear to be alone, so they take some time to create their own snowball arsenal. When their pockets and arms are full, they emerge to find the coast is clear except for a lone figure standing by the top of the stairs leading to the dining hall—though whether friend or foe, Felix can’t tell.
Slowly, they sneak closer. But the person doesn’t attack. In fact, it doesn’t seem like they’re doing much of anything aside from standing there and violently shivering on the spot.
Sylvain squints through the falling snow. “Bernie?”
“Sylvain! Please don’t hurt me!!!” Bernadetta squeals, falling to her knees. “Mercy, please!”
“Hey, it’s alright,” Sylvain says. “What are you doing here? Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. Edelgard told me to stand here at the top of the stairs and throw snowballs at anyone I saw. But I can’t! I can’t do it! It’s too much!!!”
“Calm down,” Felix hisses. He immediately regrets his tone when Bernadetta cringes away from him. “Hey. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, we’re in the middle of a snowball war, and you’re going to attract attention, so—“
“Oh, I know!” Bernadetta says, “You can kill me.”
“What?!”
“I mean, eliminate me. From the snowball fight. And then I won’t have to stand here anymore!” Bernadetta smiles for the first time since their encounter began. “Go ahead. Throw a snowball at me. But not hard, please!”
Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
Bernadetta nods. “I’m sure.”
“Okay, well…” Sylvain picks up a loose handful of snow and lightly tosses it in Bernadetta’s direction. It mostly disintegrates in the air, but some of it lands on Bernadetta’s jacket.
Felix frowns. “I’m not sure that counts—“
“No, that’s fine! It counts. Thank you! I’m out of the game now!!!” Bernadetta scurries down the stairs and books it for the dormitories, holding her hands over her head in surrender the entire way.
Sylvain shrugs. “If only it were always that easy.”
Felix is about to suggest they take cover again when he sees a blurry shape approaching their position from the east. He pulls Sylvain behind the nearest wall to watch. The person—no, two people—are drawing closer now. Felix and Sylvain each ready a snowball for attack.
“On the count of three,” Felix whispers, and Sylvain nods as he braces himself for the assault. “One… two…three!”
“EEEEK!”
Felix and Sylvain jump out and find Annette and Mercedes standing before them, their hands spread wide in the air in a defensive position.
“Oh, thank Seiros it’s just you two,” Sylvain says, wiping sweat off his brow. “Sorry about that. Want to join us?”
“Oh, we’re not in the game anymore. We got eliminated,” Mercedes says.
“You’re eliminated?” Felix says weakly.
“We were in the middle of fighting Lysithea and Marianne, and then Dorothea snuck up on us,” Annette says. “But we all ended up eliminating each other at the same time! So we agreed to call it a draw and get snacks together.”
“Snacks?”
Mercedes smiles. “Mhm. We’re headed to the dining hall to get some hot cocoa.”
“And cookies!” Annette says, bouncing up and down.
Mercedes nods. “And cookies.”
“That sounds amazing, actually—“ Sylvain starts, then sees Felix’s death glare and changes tack, “—I mean, I wish we could join you two, but we still have work to do.”
“Have fun!” Annette says as she and Mercedes take their leave and disappear behind the dining hall’s double doors.
❖❖❖
An hour or so later, Felix has to admit Annette was right. Snowball fights are fun.
He has fun when he and Sylvain end up in a shootout with Raphael and Ignatz near the stables. They barely make it out alive, laughing and shouting as they return fire and somehow, miraculously, win. Afterwards, they stay behind for a minute to pet the horses, who seem happy to be let in on the excitement as they whinny and shake their snow-covered manes.
He has fun sneaking around the cathedral to launch a surprise attack on Linhardt, who they find curled up in his hiding spot near the Goddess Tower, fast asleep. Aside from Bernadetta, it’s perhaps their easiest kill of the day—until they’re promptly and roughly escorted off the premises by a very unamused Seteth.
And he certainly has a blast when he and Sylvain team up with Dedue and Dimitri to take on the last of the Black Eagles squad. With the Blue Lions’ numbers dwindling (a very solemn Dimitri recounts how Ingrid and Ashe fought valiantly before being eliminated), they decide to head deep into enemy territory to find Edelgard herself. After one of the most thrilling moments Felix has ever seen off the battlefield, they work together to take down Edelgard, Ferdinand, and Hubert. Dedue and Dimitri both fall in the process, then wish them good luck before departing to join the rest of the students in the dining hall.
For a moment Hubert looks like he’s going to refuse to surrender, and Felix sees his life flash before his eyes as he imagines being on the receiving end of a Miasma spell. But Hubert simply huffs and begins to retreat after a little prompting from Edelgard, though not before mumbling a few curses and staring daggers at Sylvain and Felix.
Sylvain low whistles. “That was a close one. I thought we were goners for a minute there.”
“It was,” Felix says. “But we did it. Together.”
Sylvain laughs and ruffles Felix’s hair, and Felix can’t even bring himself to get mad about it. “We make a pretty good pair, don’t we?”
“Yeah,” Felix says, smiling, “we do.”
It’s getting dark out now, and there are only a few students left in the competition. Victory is so close, Felix can almost taste it—or maybe he’s just been out here so long his tongue is nearly frozen solid. All that’s left now is to deal with Claude and the remaining Golden Deer.
“You ready?” Sylvain asks.
Felix nods. He was born ready.
They slowly make their way through the monastery until they spot their target. Claude is crouched behind a wall near the sauna. He’s facing away from them—the perfect time to attack.
Felix feels his heart pounding in his chest as they inch closer until they’re just within snowball-throwing range. He carefully crafts the roundest, smoothest snowball he can, then prays to the goddess for the first time in many moons as he takes aim and lets it fly.
It’s a direct hit, and Felix shouts with joy. His shout turns into more of a yelp as Sylvain scoops him up into his arms for a surprise bear hug. Felix hugs him back, all pretense abandoned in the thrill of the moment.
Except, Felix realizes out of the corner of his eye, Claude isn’t moving. He didn’t react to getting hit, and he’s not getting up now. He’s still just sitting there, his back toward them, motionless and silent.
Felix and Sylvain creep towards Claude, on high alert for any shenanigans. When they finally get close enough to see, it’s clear the person they hit isn’t Claude at all. In fact, it’s not even a person. It’s Claude’s jacket and hat draped over what looks like the world’s most lazily built snowman. Which means—
Oh no.
Felix turns around just in time to see a snowball flying through the air towards them as if in slow motion, arcing straight toward Sylvain’s chest.
He doesn’t have time to do anything but react, his body instinctively shifting into action like a cat after its prey. He throws himself in front of the icy missile meant for Sylvain and it explodes right against his temple, then he falls to the frozen ground with a muffled thump.
Felix hadn’t quite considered the immediate consequences of taking a solid, fist-sized chunk of snow and ice straight to the face. He’s flat on his back on the ground, wheezing for air and seeing stars. Sylvain is hovering over him now, his freckled face shifting in and out of focus as Felix tries to blink away the snowflakes clouding his vision. He can tell Sylvain is screaming something, but it’s not until the ringing in his ears subsides that he realizes Sylvain is shouting his name, the desperation clear in his voice.
“FELIX!”
Maybe Felix is just loopy from the hit, but Sylvain’s fiery hair and deep brown eyes look especially warm and inviting against the dull backdrop of gray, snowy skies. Even in a panicked state Sylvain remains beautiful as ever. Objectively, Sylvain is a very attractive person. Felix knows this better than anyone—it’s hard not to notice when they spend so much time together.
But right now it’s like he’s seeing him in an entirely new light. He smiles despite the throbbing pain.
“Hey,” Felix croaks out, still reeling from the impact but slowly regaining his senses.
Sylvain lets out a sigh of relief. “Felix, you scared the hell out of me. Are you okay?”
“Mm…I’m fine.” He doesn’t think anything is broken, at least.
“Oh, thank the goddess.” Sylvain lets out a laugh, then breaks into a smile so genuine it could warm even the iciest of hearts. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”
Felix isn’t sure if it’s the rush of adrenaline, the blow to his head, the freezing cold weather, or something else entirely, but Sylvain looks so sublime in that moment that Felix does something he’s only ever dreamt of.
He reaches up, grabs Sylvain by his coat collar, and brings their mouths together in the world’s least-coordinated kiss.
Sylvain stays frozen for a moment, eyes widened in surprise, then melts into Felix’s arms until he’s laying on top of him in the snow, their lips locked together, gloved fingers intertwined. Felix’s heart is going a mile a minute. The feel of Sylvain’s body pressed up against his own is burning him up so much he doesn’t even register the chill anymore, and when they break apart, Felix finally realizes there are far more important things than winning a snowball fight.
Sylvain is staring back at him in awe now, cheeks flushed crimson from more than just the cold weather.
“Felix,” Sylvain whispers, breaking into a disbelieving smile. “I—“
He’s cut short by the unmistakable thwap of yet another snowball hitting its mark, this time a direct hit on Sylvain’s right flank.
“Fuck!” Sylvain groans, collapsing on the ground next to Felix and clutching his side.
“I hate to break up whatever cute moment is happening here, but we are at war, you know.” Hilda is standing before them with her hands on her hips, her fuzzy pink mittens perfectly matching her fluffy earmuffs and sheepskin boots. She winces when she sees Felix’s pained expression.
“Oh,” Hilda says, suppressing a giggle as Sylvain moans softly from the ground. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”
“That’s it! That’s the last of them! That’s game!” Claude runs over from behind a nearby tree, sweeping his arms upward in the unmistakable rush of victory. Hilda and Claude enthusiastically high-five as Byleth appears and officially crowns them the winners.
Felix sighs. He thought losing this competition would be the death of his pride, and yet he can’t bring himself to be all that disappointed.
“You sacrificed yourself for me,” Sylvain says as they stand up and watch the rest of the Golden Deer gather round to celebrate.
Felix huffs. “Don’t be dramatic. Like you said, you’d do the same for me.”
“How’s your head?”
“Not great,” Felix admits.
He’s really starting to feel the pain now, though he’d gladly get hit by a thousand icy snowballs if it meant making out with Sylvain like that again. He’s still not completely sure he didn’t get knocked out cold and has been hallucinating since, but Sylvain’s warmth as he pulls him close is proof enough that this is real.
“Want me give you another kiss to make it feel better?” Sylvain teases.
Felix grins. “Only if you promise it won’t be the last.”
Sylvain puckers up and Felix pretends to be disgusted as Sylvain plants a kiss right on his half-swollen face.
“Now, let’s get going. All this fighting has me starving.“
Felix agrees and lets Sylvain take him by the hand, the snow crunching beneath their feet as the moon illuminates the snow drifts and all the evidence of the day’s battles in a beautiful, ethereal light.
Maybe one day, Felix will be up for a rematch against other houses. But for now he’s content to let Sylvain take the lead as they make their way to the dining hall with visions of a hot meal by the fire surrounded with friends on their minds.
After all, Felix has never been able to say no to Sylvain.
