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Annette's dreams are often strange.
For example, in one of them, she had baked the most beautiful, chocolatey warm cake for The Great Fodlani Bake-off—to her dismay, such a competition did not exist when she woke up—and for some reason, its height rivaled that of a monastery pillar.
With the strength of four soldiers, her cake was set down on the tile floor (in real life, she'd never ever let this happen) before Lady Rhea. To both her left and right were other cakes, just as massive as her own, with each of their respective bakers behind them. They waited in silence as tension clung to their flour and icing stained clothes, until the sound of a singular drum boomed throughout the hall.
At that, Annette did the most unexpected thing: she began to climb her cake like a mountain. It was truly a grueling task; she had made the mistake of starting off too fast, only to grow fatigued before even reaching the halfway point to her destination. She grunted and panted as her hands dug into the sugary brown mush, and out of desperation, began to eat her way to the cherry on top, literally hungry for victory. Meanwhile, her opponents fell from their mountains of cakes in peril and agony in a sweet but concerning splat (Annette didn't seem to think this was alarming, at least not in her dream). Soon, Rhea crowned her Queen of Cakes, with a golden cake shaped crown that sat crookedly over her ginger head.
But her current dream is much stranger, for the very fact that it's not that strange at all; it lacks all of the grandeur and nonsense of her infamous cake dream. She's sitting in a classroom at Garreg Mach, front and center as usual. She's also in her academy uniform, which she hasn't worn in years.
Professor Byleth is lecturing her and the other Blue Lions about the importance of authority, and Annette's hands are moving across her parchment in a frantic scrawl; it's as though her body is moving without her, motivated by innate curiosity. She barely questions the situation, relishing in the nostalgia of the past, the innocence of teenagehood, when the most important thing in her life, aside from meeting her father again, was passing the next test. Its not long before she gets lost in writing notes, cramming every morsel of information that Professor gifts her into the increasingly small margins of her parchment. The afternoon sun spills onto her notes, setting her passionate words aglow. She forgets the time, her surroundings, the slight growl in her stomach; seconds stretch in something close to forever, and everything is perfect.
At least, until she accidentally flings her fountain pen out of her hand, sending it flying behind her with a resounding thwack. Not a clatter, which is suspicious.
Before Annette can register what just happened, a familiar voice grits out in annoyance:
"That actually hurt, Dominic. I'm surprised."
Her previous concern dramatically morphs in full offense; her brows shoot up, then furrow in irritation.
Struggling to keep her voice within a respectable volume, Annette protests, "'Actually?' I'll have you know, that I've gotten strong enough to carry Crusher now!" She huffs. "Just wait—you'll feel the wrath of my swing soon enough, you villain."
Wanting to retrieve her pen, and to fix Felix with her meanest glare (made up of a frown and a scrunched nose, which is, arguably, the same expression she makes before sneezing), Annette begins to turn with a menacing response on the tip of her tongue (now that I've threatened you, may I have my pen back, please). She expects to see Felix behind her, scowling or raising a brow at her, or both, but instead what she sees is entirely something else and makes her heart stop:
Felix is completely bald.
And what's worse is that he seems completely unaware of this, simply looking at her in subtle irritation and confusion. His head is so spotless and shiny that she can see her horrified reflection against the crown of it.
"What is it?" he asks.
Hearing him talk sends her over the edge, because logically, this means Bald Felix is actually Felix.
Naturally, Annette flings her hands over her face and screams at the top of her lungs. Her beloved classroom dissipates all at once, and she doesn't even realize that she's thrashing around until her forearm suddenly smacks something solid.
A faint wince follows.
She thinks she hears her name, a groggy, mumbly thing that goes right through her stream of consciousness. Then she hears it again, more urgently:
"Annette!"
Gasping, she jolts awake. She notices the royal blue ceiling at first, a jarringly mundane sight, before taking in the four oak bed posts boxing her vision in. Beneath her is silk linen, and over her are thick layers of bedding—a comforter, a fluffy blanket, and a quilted blanket that her mother made for her when she was a child, both a keepsake and a cure for homesickness after moving to Fraldarius.
Felix, she thinks.
As if having read her mind, her husband comes into view. Concern softens his sharpest features as he protectively leans over her. His right hand is sitting upon hers now, gentle yet firm; his left is mindlessly caressing her hair, like a nervous habit. A wave of familiar comfort washes over her, has her nuzzling into his touch without thinking. At this, his earlier concern gives way into relief. He lets out a deep breath that seems to move throughout his entire body, releasing all of the tension it must've held before she awoke.
Annette feels guilty for causing Felix stress, of course, and guiltier for finding him handsome with a frown on his face, but she'd be a liar to say that she doesn't marvel at the power she holds over him—even after being married for a year.
"Annette?" Felix says hurriedly, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
Still reeling from her dream and sleepiness, she intelligibly mumbles, "Uh."
He presses the back of his hand to her forehead, fully concentrating. Seconds later, he quietly swears under his breath, sounding frustrated with himself. She feels his calloused thumb rubbing against her temple, sliding a bead of sweat off of it. "Hold on, Annie; let me get a healer."
Weakly, Annette shakes her head, but he doesn't notice as he begins to turn away from her. Wanting to stop him from leaving altogether, she clumsily grabs at his sleeping tunic. Surprised, he stills at her touch.
She sits up, leading Felix to make space for her by moving back. He watches her scoot towards him, confused but not unwelcoming.
Real Life Felix is not bald. His choppy, navy hair is very much attached to his head, loose and dangling over one of his amber eyes like an open curtain, stopping right at his shoulders. Carefully, she reaches out to thread her fingers into his coarse hair; she takes her time grazing his scalp, relishing in the way Felix closes his eyes at the movement. Then she tucks it behind his ear, away from his face, making his gaze towards her softer than before. She can't help the quirk of a smile she gives him as a faint red splotch on his forehead greets her then, wrinkled in concentration.
Overcome by affection, Annette launches herself at his waist. Felix lets out a surprised oof that sounds downright silly, and she giggles into the fabric covering his stomach. She rubs her head furiously against him, attempting to burrow a space for her to live in, if not his heart, while hugging him tightly. Felix returns her embrace, confused and eager at the same time, allowing her body to melt further into him. As Annette looks up at him again, she catches him staring at her in thinly veiled wonder. A light shade of pink blossoms upon his cheeks to the tips of his ears, but surprisingly, he doesn't avert his eyes; his flat line of a mouth purses, unknowing of what to say for once.
Sighing contently, Annette snuggles into his stomach once more. "I'm so glad you're not bald…"
Felix slides his hand into the space between her neck and jaw, tilting her head up towards him. The shyness on his face before has dropped, replaced by flat out confusion. "What?"
"I… had a dream you were bald," Annette explains, seeing no point in concealing the truth, though feeling more embarrassed as she goes on, "I mean, the dream didn't start off like that; we were actually back in the academy. It felt so real. And then I was writing notes so fast that I accidentally flung my pen right behind me, and you happened to be there, and you were being a complete villain to me—even in my dreams!—and then you turned around—"
Felix waves his hands, signaling Annette to stop talking. "I think I get it. I don't need to hear anything else."
"You asked!" Annette chides.
Felix ignores her. He goes quiet for a moment, and Annette can see the cogs turning in his head as he comes to a realization. "Wait, so you woke up screaming—whacked my face—because…"
Annette nods, causing her bedridden hair to swing in enthusiastic agreement. "You were bald, Felix. Bald!"
"I was bald," Felix repeats. He lets out a sound between a laugh and a disbelieving scoff, but he doesn't look upset at all. If anything, there's a spark in his eyes—like he fathom his own affection for her. Annette feels her heart swoop as Felix tells her, "You're ridiculous."
"Well, I much preferred my cake dream, thank you very much," she says, sheepish.
"Let me guess—the cakes turned into steaks?"
She slaps his arm. "Felix!"
Felix chuckles dryly, unfazed, and soon, they're laughing together. Annette can feel the little vibrations of Felix's body as he leans forward to place his forehead against hers. When they finally stop to catch their breath, he detaches himself from her to ask, "Did you only marry me because you're attracted to my hair?"
Annette gasps. "Of course not!" She scrambles to sit up, placing her hands on his shoulders for balance as she looks straight into his eyes. She climbs into his lap even more, making herself comfortable. Felix's fingers find their way to her nape, applying just enough pressure to be relaxing, threatening to lull her back into slumber. She knows that Felix is only teasing her, given his smug smile.
Remembering what the conversation was about, suddenly, she frowns. "I married you because I love you, Felix Fraldarius." She kisses the tip of his nose, still frowning as she pulls away. Going rogue, he steals a kiss from her in response, on the lips this time; its much too quick for her liking.
In a serious tone, she says, "Your hair is just a bonus that comes with marrying you, like cakes with extra icing on top!"
"Right," Felix says, lightly rolling his eyes.
She grabs hold of his face, perhaps more fiercely than necessary, because he looks at her in surprise. His cheeks warm in her palms.
"Villain," she whispers, and the truth is easy to admit, "As long as you never hide from me, I'll always love you." She attacks her with a gentle kiss of her own, which he returns. In the space between, she adds, "As you are."
"As I am," Felix whispers back.
They kiss again, languidly, each bit of contact another slice of heaven. Her dreams are often strange, but they never compare to real life, because that's where Felix is.
And no matter what form her husband takes, the feeling of wanting him never seems to go away.
"Since you love me so much," Felix says, pausing their sleepy makeout session, "I can get my sword out and cut all of my hair off right now."
As she moves to close the distance between them, she says, "Don't you dare."
Felix laughs again.