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The Fraldarius manor stood in pristine perfection, its polished floors gleaming like mirrors under the midday sunlight streaming through the grand windows. Every corner of the house spoke of the servants' meticulous touch, from the delicate pastries arranged like edible jewels on fine porcelain plates to the faint, soothing aroma of fresh flowers wafting through the air. Felix, however, was utterly oblivious to the immaculate state of their home. He was too busy wearing out the rug in the main hall with his relentless pacing, his boots thudding softly against the floor as he muttered under his breath.
“Felix, if you don’t stop pacing, you’re going to burn a hole in the rug,” Annette called out as she breezed past him, balancing a tray of teacups with practiced ease. Her tone was light, but there was a hint of exasperation in her voice.
“I’m not pacing,” Felix snapped, coming to an abrupt halt. He glanced at her briefly before resuming his pacing the second her back was turned.
Annette sighed, setting the tray down on the parlor table with a soft clink of porcelain. She smoothed the fabric of her dress, a gesture half out of habit, half an attempt to distract herself from Felix’s anxious energy. “You’re acting like a guilty criminal,” she teased, her tone playful as she perched herself on the armrest of a nearby chair.
Felix stopped mid-stride to glare at her, his sharp eyes narrowing. “I’m not guilty of anything,” he said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. He hesitated, his gaze darting away as he muttered under his breath, “Not that he knows.”
Annette rolled her eyes, suppressing a laugh. She stood and crossed the room to him, her hands reaching out to rest gently on his forearms. “Honestly, Felix,” she said softly, her voice dipping into a more soothing tone. “We’ve been married for years. Father isn’t going to kill you.”
“He might,” Felix replied, his expression grim. His posture was rigid, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring ready to snap. “You’re his only daughter. And now there’s a… a baby involved.” He said the word as if it were some sort of impending disaster.
Annette tilted her head, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “Yes, our baby,” she corrected, her voice brimming with pride. She stepped back, clasping her hands behind her back and rocking on her heels. “Father is going to be thrilled to meet her. Who could possibly be mad when they see her sweet little face?”
Felix let out a soft grunt, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck in frustration. “You don’t know that,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze. “The man’s as friendly as a stone wall. I’ll bet he’s sharpening his blade right now, thinking about what he’ll do to me for daring to—”
“To what?” Annette interrupted, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Daring to marry me? Daring to love me? Felix, for the love of the Goddess, relax!”
Felix frowned, his lips pressing into a tight line. He knew Annette was right; Gustave was unlikely to unleash some fiery wrath upon him, but logic did little to calm the gnawing unease in his chest. He had spent years being silently evaluated by Gustave’s scrutinizing gaze, and the idea of sitting across from the man while their daughter was cradled in Annette’s arms filled him with a deep, primal terror.
Annette stepped closer again, her teasing expression softening as she gently took his hand in hers. “Felix,” she said, her voice tender now. “You’re a wonderful husband and an amazing father. He will see that.”
Felix’s eyes met hers, his tense shoulders sagging slightly at her words. “I just… don’t want to mess this up,” he admitted quietly, his usual gruffness giving way to rare vulnerability.
“You won’t,” Annette assured him, squeezing his hand. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, smiling when she felt some of the tension leave his body. “Now, stop pacing and help me make sure everything’s perfect.”
Felix grumbled something under his breath, but he followed her lead, albeit reluctantly. Still, his unease lingered like a storm cloud overhead, growing darker with every passing minute as they awaited Gustave’s arrival.
“There’s still time to tell him the manor burned down,” he deadpanned. “Or that we moved. Or that—”
The heavy oak doors of the manor creaked open with a deep groan, and Gustave’s towering figure stepped inside. His presence was as commanding as ever, even without his armor. The man had a way of filling a room with his sheer stoicism, a trait that made Felix’s pulse quicken for all the wrong reasons.
“Good afternoon,” Gustave said, his voice low and even as his sharp eyes surveyed the pristine hall. If he noticed the delicate pastries and Annette’s expertly arranged flowers, he gave no sign. His gaze landed squarely on Felix, who had positioned himself stiffly near the parlor door like a soldier awaiting orders.
“Gustave—Gilbert, Guh?” Felix squeaked then inclined his head in what he hoped passed for respect rather than the sheer panic coursing through him.
“Father!” Annette’s cheerful voice rang out as she appeared from the parlor, practically skipping to embrace her father. She looked radiant, her excitement radiating like sunlight in stark contrast to Felix’s dark cloud of dread.
Gustave’s features softened just enough for someone who knew him well—someone like Annette—to notice. “Annette,” he greeted, allowing the corners of his mouth to tilt upward in what was, for him, practically a beaming smile.
Felix, watching the interaction from a safe distance, felt the weight of Gustave’s earlier gaze still pressing on him. ‘He knows.’ Felix’s mind raced. ‘He must know. He probably heard the baby crying from ten miles away. He’s just waiting for the right moment to—‘
“Thank you for inviting me,” Gustave said, breaking Felix’s spiraling thoughts. “The manor looks… well-maintained.”
“Oh, that’s all Felix,” Annette chirped, completely oblivious to the sudden shade of pale her husband’s face turned. “He was so nervous about everything being perfect for you. He even cleaned the windows himself!”
Gustave turned his attention back to Felix, and the younger man stiffened. “Did you?” he asked, his tone neutral but somehow weighted.
‘What does he mean by that?’ Felix wondered, panic flashing across his mind like lightning. ‘Is this a test? Does he think I’m too soft to be a husband because I cleaned windows? Am I supposed to say no?’
“I—uh—yes,” Felix stammered, his usual confidence utterly abandoning him. “I didn’t want Annette to, uh, strain herself.”
The words hung awkwardly in the air, and Gustave’s brow lifted slightly, though he said nothing.
“Isn’t he the sweetest?” Annette said, her grin wide as she looped an arm around Felix’s stiff elbow. “He’s always fussing over me.”
Felix shot her a glare that said you’re not helping. She returned it with an innocent smile, utterly unbothered.
Gustave remained silent for a long, uncomfortable moment, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he observed the two of them. “Hmph,” he finally muttered. “That’s… good.”
‘That’s good?’ Felix thought incredulously. ‘What does that mean? Is it good? Is it bad? Is he planning something?’
“Come, Father!” Annette said, tugging at Gustave’s arm and leading him into the parlor. “We have pastries and tea. I made sure they were just the kind you like!”
As Gustave followed her, Felix trailed behind, his stomach churning. He felt like a man walking to the gallows, each step heavier than the last. The parlor was warm and inviting, but to Felix, it felt like the walls were closing in.
Gustave sat down stiffly in the high-backed chair Annette offered him, his eyes scanning the room with a soldier’s precision. Felix could feel his gaze flitting to the tray of pastries, the fine china, the floral arrangements. It all seemed innocuous, but Felix couldn’t shake the feeling that he was under some sort of scrutiny.
“Everything looks… pleasant,” Gustave said, his voice as unyielding as ever.
“Thank you!” Annette beamed as she began pouring tea, humming a cheery tune under her breath.
Felix remained standing, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as if that might shield him from whatever was coming.
“Felix,” Gustave said suddenly, his tone sharp enough to make Felix jump.
“Y-yes?”
Gustave’s eyes locked onto him like a hawk sighting prey. “You’re… well?”
Felix blinked. What kind of question is that? His mind scrambled for the correct answer, knowing full well there wasn’t one. “I’m fine,” he said cautiously, his voice tinged with suspicion. “Why?”
Gustave tilted his head slightly. “You look pale.”
Annette giggled from her spot at the tea tray. “Oh, he’s just nervous about today! He’s been pacing all morning, muttering to himself about you.”
Felix wanted to die.
“I see,” Gustave said, his expression unreadable as he reached for a cup of tea.
Felix swallowed hard, willing himself to breathe. He needed to say something—anything—to break the tension that was probably only in his head. “Annette’s been excited to see you,” he blurted out, his words tumbling over themselves.
“And you haven’t?” Gustave asked, raising an eyebrow.
Felix froze, unsure if the man was joking or not. Annette saved him with a laugh. “Papa, stop scaring him! Honestly, Felix, you’re acting like he’s here to challenge you to a duel!”
Gustave gave a low chuckle that made Felix’s stomach twist. “I wouldn’t waste the blade,” he said.
Felix’s throat went dry, and Annette swatted her father’s arm lightly. “Papa, behave!”
For a moment, the room was silent save for the clinking of teacups and the faint rustle of the wind outside. But Felix’s mind was anything but calm. He could almost hear the question forming on Gustave’s lips—the one about the baby. Does he know? Felix thought frantically. He has to know. He’s just waiting for the right moment to—
“Annette,” Gustave said suddenly, breaking Felix’s spiral. “Is there something you wanted to tell me?”
Annette looked up from her cup of tea, her face lighting up like the morning sun. “Actually, yes!” she said brightly, setting her tea down and rising to her feet.
Felix’s heart stopped.
‘This is it for me, Father, Glenn, I’ll see you soon.’
Felix’s heart hammered in his chest as Annette smoothed her skirt, a smile so wide on her face it could have reached ear to ear.
“Wait, wait!” Felix blurted out, practically lunging to grab Annette’s arm. “Why don’t we let Gustave enjoy his tea first?” His voice was strained, his tone bordering on desperate.
Annette turned to him with a puzzled look. “Why? It’s important, Felix.”
Felix forced a tight smile, ignoring the cold sweat dripping down his back. “Of course it is. Very important. But tea is also… important.”
Gustave’s sharp gaze shifted between the two of them, his brow furrowing slightly. “What is this about?”
“Oh, Father, it’s nothing bad!” Annette reassured him, waving Felix off as if he were an annoying fly. “Just wait right here.” She all but skipped toward the adjoining hallway, leaving Felix alone with her father.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Gustave took a deliberate sip of tea, his eyes never leaving Felix. “You seem tense.”
Felix cleared his throat. “Tense? No. I’m fine. Completely fine.”
“You’ve been sweating since I arrived,” Gustave observed, setting his teacup down with a soft clink.
Felix let out a bark of laughter that sounded more like a dying animal. “Sweating? That’s just… exercise. Pacing burns a lot of calories.”
Gustave raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“She’s up to something,” Gustave muttered, his brow furrowing as if he could sense the impending chaos.
Felix gave a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t say.” Then it went quiet for too long.
‘Say something’, Felix’s mind screamed at him. ‘Anything. Break the silence before he does.’
“So,” Felix croaked, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Nice… weather today.”
Gustave blinked, his expression as stoic as ever. “Is it?”
Felix flinched, feeling the weight of Gustave’s gaze as if it were a physical blow. ‘Why did I say that?’ he thought miserably.
The sound of Annette’s cheerful humming grew louder as she walked down the hall. Felix stiffened, his pulse thundering in his ears.
This is it. This is how I die. Not on a battlefield, not in a duel, but at the hands of my father-in-law.
When Annette returned, she held their infant daughter in her arms, wrapped snugly in a delicate pink blanket. The baby blinked sleepily at the bright parlor, utterly unaware of the sheer chaos her presence was about to unleash.
“Here she is!” Annette said with the pride of a queen presenting a royal heir. She moved to stand in front of her father, beaming. “Father, meet your granddaughter!”
Gustave stared at the baby as if it were a live keg full of gunpowder. His usually stoic face betrayed a flicker of pure, unadulterated panic. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just sat frozen in his chair, blinking slowly at the tiny human now occupying his field of vision.
Annette shifted the baby slightly closer to him. “Isn’t she adorable? Look at those cheeks!”
Felix watched Gustave’s reaction like a hawk, every fiber of his being screaming for him to run before the inevitable explosion.
“She’s… yours?” Gustave finally asked, his voice uncharacteristically strained.
“Yes, ours!” Annette chirped, oblivious to the mounting tension between the two men. “Felix and I are so happy. Aren’t we, Felix?”
Felix opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His throat felt like it had closed up entirely. He nodded stiffly, his eyes darting between Annette and Gustave, whose face had turned several shades of pale.
Gustave’s gaze snapped to Felix, his piercing eyes narrowing in a way that made the younger man feel like a deer caught in the sights of a very determined hunter.
“You,” Gustave said, his tone dropping an octave.
Felix flinched. “M-me?”
“You did this,” Gustave stated bluntly, motioning vaguely toward the baby with one massive hand.
Felix swallowed hard. “I… uh… well, yes. But technically, we both—”
“Felix, stop talking,” Annette said, glaring at him.
Gustave, however, was too busy staring into the middle distance, his expression caught somewhere between horror and deep internal agony. His daughter, his precious little girl, had—had— He couldn’t even finish the thought. And now he was… a grandfather?
“Father, I’m an adult!” Annette spoke up again after Gustave’s silence stretched on. Seriously, he couldn’t grapple with the fact that his daughter was an adult, a married adult, no less. Worst of all, with a sex-life.
“That doesn’t make it better!” Gustave thundered, his stoicism long shattered. “You’re still my daughter!” He gestured wildly at Felix, his eyes narrowing. “And you—you… you… knocked up my little girl!”
“I didn’t—!” Felix stopped mid-shout, realizing that was a terrible argument. “I mean, I did, but—” He turned to Annette, utterly flustered. “Why does he have to put it like that?”
Annette looked between them, a hand on her hip and the baby balanced expertly in her other arm. “Honestly, the both of you are being ridiculous,” she huffed. “She’s is a gift, and you’re acting like this is some kind of crime scene.”
Gustave, still coping with the reality of his grandfatherhood, pointed at the baby, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “She’s… she’s tiny.”
“Well, yes,” Annette said, exasperated. “She’s a baby.”
“And I’m a grandfather,” Gustave muttered, the words sounding alien to him. He collapsed back into his chair, rubbing his temples. “I’m too young to be a grandfather.”
Annette giggled. “Papa, you’re almost sixty-five.”
“I didn’t ask for commentary, Annette,” Gustave snapped, though the words lacked bite. He looked at the baby again, his brow furrowing. “She’s… yours?” As if he couldn’t quite believe it yet
“Ours,” Annette corrected, giving Felix an encouraging smile.
Felix, however, wasn’t in any state to smile back. He was frozen in place, caught between terror and the desperate hope that the floor might open up and swallow him whole. “Yes, sir,” he croaked. “She’s ours.”
There was a long, tense silence as Gustave stared at Felix, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “You,” he said finally, his voice low, “have a lot of nerve.”
“Father!” Annette scolded, glaring at her father.
But Gustave’s gaze didn’t waver. “A lot of nerve… to have a child so adorable that I can’t even be properly mad,” he admitted gruffly.
Both Felix and Annette blinked, stunned.
“Wait, what?” Felix said, his voice breaking slightly.
Gustave sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of his own emotions had finally caught up to him. “She’s beautiful,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Like her mother.”
Annette beamed, her eyes shining with joy. “Oh, Papa!” She crossed the room, placing the baby gently in his arms.
Gustave stiffened, clearly unused to holding anything so fragile, but his expression softened as he gazed down at the baby. “She’s…” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “Perfect.”
Felix watched, wide-eyed, as Gustave’s massive hand hovered awkwardly over the baby’s head, as though he were afraid she might break if he so much as touched her. Finally, he patted her once, very gently, and sat back in his chair.
“I mean. She’s… fine,” he said, his tone almost grudging.
Felix let out a long, shaky breath, slumping against the chair behind him. For now, it seemed, he was safe.
“You and I will talk later.” Gustave spoke up again, looking right at Felix.