Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks since Byleth had to kill someone. It was a relieving thought, albeit a bit of a demented one. The former professor was no stranger to death, but to escape from it, even for a little bit, was a great relief off his head. He sighed, easing his head back on his pillow. This wasn't the time. It was one of his rare breaks after all. A departure from the muddy battlefields, bandits, blood and viscera that was a rare treat for him. Why not enjoy it a little bit longer?

For a moment, Byleth forgot where he was. A bedroom fit for a king, larger than life, unnecessarily so. The cream-colored walls, tapestries and regal paintings adorning the bedroom walls just spelled royalty. Sunlight peeked through the half-drawn purple curtains in his room. He quietly scoffed. How did some low-born mercenary end up getting in some place as deliciously rich as this? That answer came in the form of a white-haired beautiful woman clinging to him, nearly buried under blankets.

The Emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg, ruler of Fodlan, war-hero, possibly the most tenacious, dangerous and beautiful woman in the country, was snoring quietly on his bare chest. He smiled. This was too precious. It was so heartwarming to see her resting so peacefully, bare chest rising and falling with each calm breath. A devious and despicable part of him wanted to wake her up, but to hell with that. The poor woman worked herself hand, foot and soul for the country after all. Why not let her sleep that extra five minutes.

A slow thump inside his chest nearly made him jump out of his bed. It took a few moments to remember that it was his heartbeat. His lips curled into a thin-lipped grin. This old thing again? He still wasn't used to that weird organ hopping up and down against his rib cage. It was subtle, dull even, but it reminded me that he was still alive. That little sudden motion did make the Emperor stir a little and moan, face frowning a little.

"Shh, just go back to sleep, El." Byleth whispered, running his fingers soothingly through her hair. A drowsy smile stretched across her face that nearly made his heart skip a beat. Unfortunately, that didn't stop her eyes from fluttering open.

"What time is it?" She yawned, nestling a little more against his chest.

He peaked at the grandfather clock on the other side of the room, and sighed. "It's nearly eight. We've already overslept," In terms or royalty anyway. Edelgard unapologetically groaned, wrapping her arms tighter around Byleth's waist. He stifled a laugh. For a woman so stoic, witty and composed, she could be so cute sometimes. "Come on, you slugabed. We've got work to do."

"Mm, don't remind me. And who are you calling a slugabed?" He chucked as she nipped mischievously at his chest.

"Come one, up you get." Perhaps in one of his most bold of moves, he reached down and swatted at her bare bum. Even though it was light and wouldn't leave a mark on the sturdy woman, she squealed, face beet red.

"I could execute you for that." She growled, scowling at him.

Byleth grinned mischievously. "If that little stunt would have me beheaded, you probably would have done it the first night after the war," He studied her face, his mirthful grin going soft. "Red has always been a good color on you."

"Flattery gets you nowhere with me." She said, pulling herself up and kissing his lips. "Now close your eyes. I must get dressed."

Byleth obliged, turning over and plunging his head into his pillow while she slipped out of bed. "How tight is your schedule today?"

"Business as per usual," Edelgard sighed. "Ferdinand is calling for a meeting regarding the recent crash of nobility standards in the north. Meanwhile, Lorenz requested a meeting. A simple tea party of all things. Ha! As if I truly have time for that- Oh! Turn your head immediately!" She brought her nightdress above her bare chest, turning her entire body away from him. Byleth still didn't mind the view. There was still a slight imprint of his hand on her right on her left bum cheek. He would catch hell and fire for that later.

"Sorry, sorry. I couldn't resist." Byleth admitted, closing his eyes.

"Scoundrel."

"Your scoundrel."

Edelgard shook her head, soon starting to smile. "Behave yourself for five minutes while I work, won't you? Be a good little soldier and patrol around the castle."

"It's about all I do these days." He said, standing up and stretching out. He didn't notice Edelgard walking closer until her arms were around his neck. Her smile was absolutely stunning. Every time, it would make his heart race. She stood on the tips of her toes and left a kiss on his lips before putting the rest of her clothes on and walking out the door. Byleth stood bewildered, and rather excited, for a moment before dressing himself and marching out.

House Hreslvelg. The leading station of the Empire, current capital of Fodlan, the ground zero for governmental authority, and current home of a dingy mercenary in way over his head. It was still as surreal now as it was two years ago, when he first set his dirty rucksack on the pristine white marble floors. Not one day went by when he didn't stop and ask 'what am I doing here?' Perhaps this estate was just one big spoil of war? It was unsettling, categorizing this beautiful place as just another trophy on a rack though, especially when it was the home of his dearly beloved, but his thoughts were his own nonetheless.

He thread across the dark-colored, portrait-laden halls, trying to at least appear busy. Since he had no desire in political affairs, nor did he have the affinity for it, he left it in Edelgard's hands. Wouldn't want the country to suddenly catch fire, would we? He leaned against the large open window, viewing the town that once held a grand scale battle not too long ago.

Two years so far had come and gone like a bolt of lightning. The war against Rhea felt like it happened yesterday. More often than not, he'd be awake at night, stiff as stone, just waiting for a fight that wouldn't happen. The nightmares didn't help matters, all were more heart-wrenching and gut-punching than the last. He shut his eyes tight, jaw clenched. Faces, bodies everywhere, burning, constant fighting, so many kids dying under his watch, it killed him inside.

Stop. Enough. He took a deep breath. It was over. The war was over. Edelgard fought hard and made change.

"Just let it be over." Byleth muttered under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw silver boots marching in his direction. Dignified and sure, with a bright smile and flowing light red hair going past his shoulders.

Byleth stiffened. Oh no. Maybe if he stood still, he would go unnoticed. Bernadetta's logic had to stand somewhere, right?

"Oh, Professor!"

Damn.

"Duke Aegir." Byleth said curtly.

Duke Ferdinand von Aegir beamed at the sight of his former professor. Meanwhile, here Byleth was trying to figure out how to turn into smoke and blow away. Mind you, He did like his former student. There was no animosity between the two. Although, if you were on the other end of one of his dutiful speeches on the principles of nobility, you'd rue the day you ever learned the concept of it. The man would keep it going well past sundown and beyond the point of insanity.

"Please, refer to me as Ferdinand in private," Ferdinand corrected. "Different in status we may be, I still consider you one of my finest companions."

"At least that makes one of us," Byleth teased, shaking his hand. "Is the new position doing you well?"

Ferdinand grimaced slightly. "It certainly has my full attention. I fear I haven't found much time to rest my feet, let alone my head. Edelgard may be under the same circumstances, correct?"

"Unfortunately. We haven't shared a meal in ages." It was rather sad, not being able to spend that much time with those you love. Since their engagement at the war's end, no preparations were truly made toward a wedding. "Is there something you needed? Normally, I don't see you much outside your office."

Ferdinand's brow furrowed. "Yes, as to that, I have several correspondences regarding the state of certain noble families. In fact, the entire idea of nobility as a whole seems to be up for debate. Her Majesty still has yet to address it."

Hasn't this woman suffered enough? "The conflict with Ones Who Slither In The Dark just concluded. Just, Ferdinand. Barely even two weeks. After a two-year war. That's not even enough time to catch your breath." He reasoned.

Ferdinand gnawed on his lip, looking rather apologetic. "Forgive me, but an Emperor is still an Emperor at the end of the day. One cannot simply 'breathe' with such a heavy burden on your back."

"Obviously." Byleth pinched his own chin in thought. Of course, the monarch of an entire country would never get a break. The rules of society wouldn't allow it. Just then, he sported a sly little grin. Some rules did need a little breaking from time to time. Monarchs can't get a day off? How about a reckless former professor takes a hammer to that? "How about I help her out? It might take some ease off her shoulders"

"Ah, our esteemed Professor, guiding Her Majesty once again?" Ferdinand beamed. "Perfect! We may have hope yet. You have my gratitude."

"Don't worry about it." Byleth soothed. "It is my duty after all."

Duty. Byleth's face suddenly went pale. Ferdinand's eyes lit up. He could almost see the bonfire behind those eyes. "Fear not, Professor. You're doing a service to the people under your care. Alas, the toils are never-ending. For our duty is to the people. And for the people, we- Professor, where are you going?"

Byleth's foot was already half out the window. "Attempting a flying spell. It must be performed under strict silence and unobserved, or I will fall to my death." Before the noble could say anything else, Byleth had dove out the window, crashing into a soft hay bail down below.

He winced and groaned, pain shooting up his back. The fall was even that arduous. A couple of stories if anything else. Petra made this look so much easier than it actually was. Brushing hay off his coat, he sat up and marched out to the market. Time to fetch some ingredients.

/

It had been around four hours since Edelgard had tackled her mountain of paperwork. Hours of pouring over countless drafts under a small candlelight, filled with the most mundane prattle on this side of Fodlan. Trade agreements here, negotiations there, a threat or two to make the 'rats' of Abyss to fall in line, the usual boring, yet unfortunately necessary tasks to take care of as the Emperor.

Some of it was benign- repeats of things she'd already agreed too, as if the handlers needed some sort of confirmation on her part. It wracked her brain what an extra signature or two would solve, but what did it matter? She always kept his word, one way or another.

The study walls looked as though they were closing in. Lines of filled bookshelves filled every wall, outside of a mahogany desk in the middle of the room, buried in several inches worth of paperwork. It would take a full minute just to find her inkwell in this mess. The only light came from an open window out at her back, letting in the sunshine that she would much rather be in. The more she worked, the more the space bothered her. What she wouldn't give to bust the walls down, break the shelves and get some air, but duties were duties, and whether or not she liked them, they had to be done.

After a good hundred or so documents, she sank back in his chair, sighing. That was it. Done. No more. Her patience could only take so much. The faint scent of vanilla from the candles were already starting to fade as well. Usually, that was a good time to take her leave. She stacked her papers and left them atop his desk, strolling out of the room and yawning unceremoniously.

Two years after one of the most vicious wars the country of Fodlan had ever seen, cementing the Empire as the supreme ruling force over the country, and it still felt like it was raging on. The new government was still fresh, with a lot of wrinkles in its fabric to iron out. Still, it barely felt like a process had been made. When problems were solved, something else would crop up, somehow bigger than the one she just solved. It was always something. Always something more. She sunk her head back in frustration, letting out a loud, open sigh.

Edelgard jumped a little in her seat as a plate was eased onto her desk, in the middle of the mountain range of paperwork. She blinked. Orange-spiced ham steak? The smell was absolutely heavenly. She looked up to her savior.

The Professor, Byleth Eisner. Stoic, handsome and dignified, with his neck-length dark hair still messy from his pillow. He wore black short-sleeve shirt with red highlights, and black pants, suiting his affinity for darker clothing, right down to his night clothes. Thinking about it, even after two years of sharing a bed, it was still strange seeing him in night-clothes, but it was comforting at least.

Edelgard couldn't hide a smile. "Steak? This early?" Edelgard asked curiously.

Byleth raised a brow. "It's noon, El. You've been at this for hours now."

She couldn't help but groan. Just how much of her day was spent rotting away at this desk? At some point, she was sure she was fusing with it. "It can't be helped. Would you rather let Ferdinand try his hand at this?"

"Oh no," Byleth's face scrunched up. "I had just escaped him as is. If I have to hear another speech about his 'noble duty', I'm throwing myself off the highest tower in Enbar for a second time."

"And leave me to toil on my own? Shame on you," She chastised. Her brow cocked. She pulled a loose string of hay out of his hair, and impatiently stared. "And just what is this?"

"The result of my patience snapping like a twig." Byleth answered, rubbing his sore neck.

"Well then, I suppose you'll have to remain here. Some documents need revising, and there are trade agreements your discerning eye can analyse." Her mouth watered. "I on the other hand will indulge a little. It is nearing noon, after all." She hastily dug in, eyes closed, savoring the sweet flavors. She caught a fleeting glimpse of her fiance's smile before he buried himself in work.

She smiled quietly, slowing down her pace. Normally, she would have to scarf down whatever she ate just to continue working. No time to appreciate whatever she was eating, or the fact that she could eat to begin with. Taking the time to savor it was a gift. One that should refused to waste. She watched him diligently work, and felt nothing but adoration. So few people she could trust in this world, and a living miracle just happened to grace her? Who could consider themself this lucky?

Her eyes squinted. Was that a smirk on his face? Another devious plan in the making, it would seem. Edelgard tensed a little, feeling a rush of excitement. "Should I be worrying about that little grin on your face?" She asked.

"Not until you finish your brunch." He said ominously, hastily scribbling down signature after signature.

"You know full well I don't like surprises."

"You'll love this one."

Edelgard scoffed. "I swear, you're becoming more like Claude every day."

"Just finish your food, El. And make sure you enjoy it. We'll be pretty busy for a while."

Edelgard let out a quiet croak, looking at the mountain of papers at her desk. A while was an understatement. That stack of tree genocide was their day incarnate. Agonizingly slowly, she finished her meal, chasing it all down with a goblet of wine, and reluctantly, she cleared her throat. "You have my gratitude for the meal, but I must take over."

Byleth looked up at her, mid-signature, with his grin suddenly stretching from ear to ear… before turning around and flinging her pen out the window.

Edelgard's jaw dropped. Needless to say, she was stunned into silence.

"Sorry, Your Majesty. I have something else in mind."

Edelgard's cheeks immediately went pink. "M-My Teacher! In my office? On my table? Do you realize the sort of scandals that would arise from that?" She sputtered.

Byleth's brow raised. "Oh, no no, not that. Not yet." He reached from his rucksack and pulled out what looked to be a poorly put together picnic basket. "Do you remember that little cottage we went to last year? To get out of that storm?"

Edelgard nodded. "Yes, go on?"

"Well, there is a carriage outside," His grin returned. "How about we go for a ride?"

Edelgard was aghast, mouth spasming open and closed, trying to comprehend her fiance's plot. An Emperor sneaking out of her own palace on a picnic? It was reckless, devious, downright dangerous for a monarch of her caliber to do. Wondering out in the middle of her business? How outrageous! How absolutely insane!

"When do we leave?" She asked in a low whisper, as if by some chance Hubert could hear her through a solid oak door.

"Whenever you're dressed and ready. Preferably as soon as possible," He replied, checking the time on the grandfather clock nearby. It was noon, but the day was still young. Plenty of time to be had in a few hours.

"I suppose you have a plan for getting us both across the gate without alerting the guards?" She asked expectantly.

He nodded, leaning casually on the table. "In a sense. The guards won't think twice about me going through the gates. I am the royal jack-of-all-trades, after all. So if they see me driving a cart full of farm animals out of the city, the most they'll ask is where I'm going."

Her brows furrowed, trying to read between the lines, then her eyes suddenly widened dinner-plate wide. "You wouldn't dare."

Byleth fought off the urge to cackle, raising a pair of stage play donkey ears.

/

Devilish plans and risky gambits were something of a specialty for Byleth, even at a young age. Trojan horses filled with explosives, painting trees with honey and chasing enemies through bear and bee-filled forests, and even going so far as to dress Ferdinand in chicken fashion as a distraction to inexperienced bandits. He just about talked Byleth's ear off after that for a week, rightly deserved. Barring that, his little plans often involved a lot of risk and personal embarrassment, in return for substantial reward.

If only everyone else saw it that way.

From their point of view, Byleth was a crack-pot genius with the social tact of a concussed fruit fly. Victory was nice, but sometimes a little pride had to be abandoned first. Maybe a temper flair here or there. However, from the grumbling and shuffling, he heard in the back of the cart he drove, a little temper was the least of his worries.

No guards stopped him in the streets, or questioned where the Emperor went at least. So far so good. There was even a little time to stop by the well-stocked market in the town square. It wasn't until he reached the gate that the only issue stood in his way. A pair of guards, one of them looking strikingly familiar, crossed their spears at the gate, preventing them from going any further.

"Greetings, Professor! Nothing to report!" The Gatekeeper cheerfully sang.

Byleth clicked his tongue, suddenly feeling annoyed. "For the love of- I have a name." He mumbled before clearing his throat and speaking clearly. "There was a call for a few more farm animals across the Varley territory. Wasn't exactly given a 'why', but I never am given one these days."

The guard's brow suspiciously rose. "Farm animals? In the Varley territory?"

Byelth's face blanched. What was he thinking? The area around Varley was close to the mountain range, being one of the closest territories to Garreg Mach. What sane man would dump animals on such terrain and expect them to survive? In the back corner of the wagon, he could just about make out a sigh, and shuffling. The guards suspicion seemed to raise.

"What exactly is back there?" He inquired.

"Just an ass. Don't mind it. She's far too restless for her own good." It took willpower bestowed by the goddess herself not to crack a grin in full mirth. And from that growl in the background, he would certainly be paying for it.

The guard thought about it for a moment, then snapped his fingers, as if realizing something. "That's right! You would need donkeys and mules to pull around heavy loads inside the territory, right? That makes a lot of sense!"

Byleth blinked. This certainly wasn't part of the plan, but he liked where it was going.

"Right, so we can pass?" He asked.

"Yes sir!" The keeper jovially affirmed, reaching curiously into the carriage.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Byleth warned. "She bites. Hard."

The Gatekeeper shivered. "Good call. I wouldn't want another run-in with another crazed farm animal, especially when that horse ran me over seven years ago. What was its name again? Dorte?"

"Right then, I'll be on my way. Thank you." Byleth cracked the reins, and the horses trotted past the gate. It was about a mile out before he felt a sharp jab in his side. A small, strong fist striking just under the ribs, making him wince. "You must admit that it was funny."

Edelgard poked her head out of the carriage, unamused. She all but tore the prop ears off the top of her head, glowering at him. "Next time, we will simply just walk out the gates. I haven't the will to care anymore."

"It was a tad more interesting than just walking out the gates. It will allow you for some private time as well, all things considered," Byleth said. "The higher-ups won't ask too many questions- I've notified Hubert that you had private business to attend to, and couldn't be followed."

Edelgard looked rather surprised. "And he said nothing against it?"

"Oh, he said plenty against it, but I just sort of blocked it out. I could've sworn he once said he'd eviscerate me in my sleep if something were to happen to you, but I'm used to that by now." He said.

The young Emperor pulled herself out of the carriage, dressed in commoner clothes, and sat next to him. A smile soon stretched across her face as she soaked in the gentle breeze and warm sun, like a plant stuffed in a cave for far too long. For now, even if just for today, even if it was just a few hours even, she was free. It was as though an entire continent had been lifted off her back. Byleth smiled. This woman's beauty was a master violinist, playing his heartstrings.

The cottage wasn't very far away from Enbarr. Maybe less than an hour by carriage ride from the borders of Hresvelg territory. It was reasonably sized, sitting close to another village, separated by a small thicket of trees and bushes. The outer walls were a little worn with wear and tear, but it was still about as clean as they left it last time. The couch, desk, large bed and kitchen had been largely untouched, with a thin layer of dust on a few surfaces, but certainly still livable. Sothis knows it beats sleeping on the ground in the middle of nowhere.

Edelgard grimaced as the solid wood door loudly creaked open. "The hinges still need some tuning."

"I've given up on that thing," Byleth admitted with a sigh, dropping his rucksack on the ground. "Two years and it's still giving me hassle."

The pair stood for a moment, marveling at the creme walls, ample furniture, the fireplace, the small wood carvings of ships and portraits decorating walls and ledges, the space was a little small and tight, but feasible. The best part of it was how little there was to truly gawk and stare at. None of it spelled royalty to the common folk. It was benign. Simple. Insignificant.

It felt like home.

"At least this place wasn't looted," Byleth said, smiling, fishing through his rucksack.

"With how much this country is crawling with bandits, that fact is startling," Edelgard mused. Seeing Baelith obviously struggling to pull something out of his rucksack, she a corner of her mouth rose to a smug grin. "Would you like a hand, Darling?"

Byleth rolled his eyes, successfully dislodging… a bag full of scones. Her eyes widened. Different colors and flavors of scones. The pair exchanged looks, and the former professor grinned, dropping the lot onto a platter, sitting atop a cabinet, near the fireplace. "You did say that you wanted a day where you could just not worry, and gorge yourself on sweets, right?" He sneered. She shook her head, unable to smile. The nerve of this man.

The pair sat by the now freshly lit fire, enjoying scones and some roasted boar meat, and just… talked. Talked about their busy day, about school, about anything they couldn't. No matter how strange and outlandish the stories all turned out, she was just happy to be in his company. Before she knew it, nightfall came round the corner, and with it, the gentle chirping of crickets.

"It's getting late already?" Edelgard sighed.

"I suppose we have been yapping for a while," He said, rubbing his throat. "Maybe that's why we can never find time to schedule weddings. We can never concentrate around each other."

"Perhaps," Edelgard said. "However, there is the re-opening of Garreg Mach to look forward to. A perfect place for a wedding, yes?" Any attempt to keep her face stoic and composed was lost with the wide smile on her face.

"Are you sure we won't get smote the second we step in there? We did sort of burn a religion to the ground." Byleth chuckled.

"Details, My Teacher." Edelgard brushed crumbs off her fingers and shirt, before standing up and stretching. To his surprise, the next brilliant move on her part was to march over to her fiance, and straddle him, arms wrapped around his neck.

Byleth's cheek flushed. "Does the moonlight just awaken something in you? It's like this almost every night."

"If you want to complain, you can spend the rest of your night in this sweet while I sleep alone." She snipped back, laying a long, savory kiss to his lips. It would be half a minute before the pair came back up for air, both red and restless.

"We don't need to return that early in the morning, do we?" He asked with some thought.

"Let's face it. Hubert will always be Hubert. He knows exactly where we went. Any sort of trouble can be dealt with by him. He has my faith, after all," She answered, laying a few more pecks across his collarbone and chin. "This is our time, my Beloved, and I want to spend it with you. No one, but you." Her fingers curled in, nails digging into the back of his neck, almost possessively so.

That was enough. The larger man stood up suddenly, Edelgard's legs instantly wrapped around his midsection. Arms braced under her rear to keep her up, he marched off to their bedroom and blew out the lonely candlelight.

Chapter Text

Knock knock.

“Lady Edelgard, please open the door. The paperwork is starting to mount.” Hubert patiently stated for the fourth time this morning. No answer. A tic started in his jaw. 

Hubert von Vestra considered himself a rather patient man. Few could deal with the daily toils of being an adjacent to the most powerful figure in Fodlan without having some degree of discipline and self-control. It was a badge of honor he’s held with great pride right from day one when Edelgard and he were still children. However, even a man of his stalwart devotion could tolerate so much at a time, and having a figurative and literal door keeping him from his duty drove him up the wall. 

He rapped the oak door hard again, fighting back a wince and cursing his slender and thin fingers. “Lady Edelgard, it is approaching nine. Please, wake up.” He jiggled the handle again, hoping by some form of miracle that the door had become unlocked, by no such luck. Cursed door. It would think twice about keeping him out once he unleashed his dark magic on it. It would be bouncing off the walls like a possessed jumping bean if it didn’t mean he would be paying for it. 

He waited a little longer, tapping his foot on the ground. Eventually, he sighed, hand meeting his face. “To blazes with this.” He tapped the door lock, and with a little spark of purple, the latch clicked and the door swung open. Satisfied, he marched in with his chest out and shoulders back, head held high. “Lady Edelgard, perhaps you would prefer working in bed today-”

Hubert shoes screeched on the marble floor at his sudden stop. Clothes were scattered and intermingled messily together on the floor. The lamppost had been tipped over, with the lampshade having rolled to the other side of the room. There was even a decent-sized dent in the walls like something was pressed tightly against it. It looked as though there had been an attack, but his blood ran cold when he realized just why his emperor had left things in such disrepair. On the master bed was Lady Edelgard, hair disheveled, wearing quite an oversized black t-shirt with a crown-like mosaic design. A very familiar-looking shirt. 

It was then he saw the Professor… straddled by his proud emperor. 

Fight, flight or freeze. Of course, to minimize the threat of treason to his lady against that common filth, he would have to choose flight. But of course, his legs wouldn’t move. Why would they? It wasn’t as though he was currently in the worst place he could be. So, he did what any proud man of the fair lady would do.

He cleared his throat. 

The pair froze, prying their eyes off each other and looking right at Hubert. 

“Hubert! What on earth!” Edelgard shrieked, hopping off the professor, and pulling her shirt down as far as it could go. It was a wonder how a face could get that red. 

Baelith on the other hand sighed and brought the pillow to his face. “You couldn’t give us one more hour?” 

Hubert’s jaw twitched. “Forgive me, Professor, but I assume you are aware just how important Lady Edelgard’s time is? Surely you could respect that.” Polite as ever. Even drowning in a pool of rage, he still had that flare of a gentleman. It was enough for the professor to get a clear message anyway. 

“That’s exactly why I opted to stick around longer,” He reasoned. “How often do we get time to ourselves? We barely see each other during the day.” 

“Needs of the many outweigh yours, I’m afraid. Please see yourself out.” Hubert stepped back, and bowed curtly, gesturing to the door with his hand. Edelgard looked like she was about to pop, but she would come around. This is for her own good, after all. 

“Whatever you say, sir,” Baelith facetiously replied. He intentionally slowly stretched, a few joints popping satisfyingly, and dragged himself out of bed. Thankfully, he still had his black pants on, otherwise, Hubert would have opted to throw both the professor and himself out the window. “I’ll swing by when he decides to let you off the hook.” 

“Please,” Edelgard scoffed. “Do you truly think I would give any form of authority the time of day in my own castle?” 

“You certainly listened to mine last night.” Baelith mused, leaning over and kissing Edelgard quite gently. 

One twitch. Two twitches. Hubert grew a tad concerned- His eye should not be doing that and still be considered healthy. The two love birds split apart, and Baelith walked out of the master bedroom, being gawked at by maids young and old for having the audacity to march around the compound without a shirt. Such arrogance and disrespect. Has he no respect for the palace he resides in? He should teach him that lesson one day. Others matter first though.

He plopped a load of papers on Edelgard’s table. Her jaw dropped. Then again, Hubert supposed he would too if he’d handed an entire tree of work to her in the middle of the morning. “There was a request for additional troops along the borders of the Varley territory. It may of course be Bernadetta and her usual bouts of fear, but of course, she is the most northern territory among us and the threat of Farghus rebels is still quite high.” 

“Hubert.” 

“Oh, and one of the members of the Aegir family is requesting about their status of nobility. Perhaps it would be prudent to make their stance clear.” Hubert ran on. 

Edelgard rubbed her temples. “Hubert…”

“And by that matter, it is close to tax season. Should we-”

“Hubert!” 

Hubert snapped out of his thoughts and glanced at her. “Yes, Lady… Edelgard?”  His ears went beet red. Lady Edelgard was wearing a shirt. Only a shirt. Her entire face was glowing red as well. Even worse, she looked like she was absolutely fuming. 

Hubert swallowed. “Yes, Lady Edelgard?”

“I will give you ten precious seconds to vacate, or so help me, the last thing you will see is Aymr in full swing.” She warned. 

Hubert’s blood ran cold. “P-Please forgive me… Lady Edelgard.”

“Ten… nine… eight…” 

Hubert was down the hall and racing down the stairs before she reached the dreaded number seven. 

/

A retainer's work is never done. There was a litany of duties, some more subtle than others, that must be done for the sake of her majesty, no matter how benign or jaw-droppingly dull. Hubert would wake up well before dawn, march a quick patrol around the compound while the night guards are slack and on the verge of passing out, then go on to check how many documents and mail were filling the request boxes. 

When that was done, he would do the basic household chores around the throne room. Dusting the curtains and cushions, polishing the throne, disposing of debris, sweeping the floors, cleaning the windows, and inspecting for any signs of foul play. Of course, her majesty needed a clean workspace, so he would work his magic in her study, straightening and organizing books, filling spaces, cleaning stains off her desk, and leaving a freshly brewed cup of coffee that was more than likely to go undrunk. At least the cozy smell it left behind was enough. 

After one more patrol, maybe one more depending on his mood, he would awaken Lady Edelgard, or at the very least, attempt to. Treasonous as it would be to admit, Her Majesty was a deep sleeper, and quite a messy one at that. It would normally take three or four tries before he could get a result. 

That was the morning routine. A day by day sequence that he barely gave any second thought to. That was his duty and he was fine with it. 

However, there was a glaring problem. Her Majesty was starting to become a tad too distracted these days, and it irked him to no end. Enough to drive him to a study in Aegir territory of all places. It was one of the few secluded places that he had when he needed to think. 

“Damn him,” He grumbled into the hand he rested his head-on. “Damn him to all hells.” 

“Please do not try to curse someone in my estate,” Ferdinand said, offering him a cup of tea that Hubert nearly drank down in one gulp. “And what in the blazes happened to you? I could have mistaken you for a cherry, you are so red.” 

Hubert let out a feeble grunt. “Nothing. Merely under the weather.” Oh, his lady looked utterly ravishing in her bedwear. He fought off the urge to stab his hand with a fork for daring that thought. 

“Do you have a fever? If so, allow me to fetch a healer.” 

“Your concern is appreciated, but please. Do not worry about me,” Hubert sighed into his hand. “It has been a rather frustrating morning. In more ways than you can imagine.” 

“Which is why I presume you’re trying to drain me dry of my tea reserves.” Ferdinand mused, sitting on the opposite side of the table of Hubert. “By all means. My ears are open.”

“And your head is empty,” Hubert smirked at Ferdinand’s frown. “Oh don’t give me that look, you marched headlong into that.” 

Ferdinand rolled his eyes but found himself grinning. How long had it been since he could banter with his old friend? Far, far too long. “Now that your degradation session is over, do you have business here, or are you here for a friendly visit?”

Hubert leaned over, eyes narrowed. “Do you trust the Professor?” 

“Ha! Of course, I do, why wouldn’t I? It was his strength that allowed us to carry the war. Don’t jest on such matters,” Ferdinand scoffed. His face fell where the pair exchanged glances. “Oh no, you’re serious.” 

Hubert’s stern frown remained, looking nonplussed. “What do you know about the professor truly? What of his intentions?” 

Ferdinand tapped his chin. “Well, as far as I’m aware, his background is wrapped in a mystery, but trustworthy by any means. And he has proven himself in Her Majesty’s service time and time again.” 

“Possibly too well…”

“What’re you suggesting, Hubert?” 

Hubert’s hands clenched into fists. “What if this whole endeavor is a ruse to lull Edelgard into a false sense of security and take the throne right from under her feet?” 

“Hubert von Vestra!” Ferdinand shouted indignantly, standing up and slamming his hands on his expensive table. “Quiet your tongue, do you realize what you’re suggesting? One such as the Professor would never scheme something so vile!” 

“Your naivete continues to astound. If one as brilliant as Edelgard can stage such events over years of planning, why can’t our dear Professor? His skills do proceed him, after all?” 

The pair eyed each other, daring the other to back down. With a deep breath, Ferdinand sat back down in his seat and sipped some of his tea with a shaky hand. His brows bunched together in thought. “Perhaps this is something else.”

“I fail to understand.” 

“That you do,” Ferdinand barbed. “What happened to arise such suspicion? These concerns obviously haven’t built up overnight.” 

Hubert’s head swiveled to the door, wondering if anyone was listening. Paranoia still hasn’t left him after all these years, like a haunting ghost over his shoulder, reminding him just what dangers lie in every corner. He leaned closer to Ferdinand and spoke in a hushed whisper. “Lady Edelgard and the Professor have grown rather… too close.” 

You could hear a pin drop after that. 

Ferdinand’s jaw would’ve dropped through the floor it was able. And in a manner most befitting of a noble, his head sank back and be howled with laughter. 

Hubert took a deep breath, then another, waiting patiently for Ferdinand to calm down, but he just laughed harder, slapping his knee a few times for good measure. “Y-You want to raise the alarm on possible betrayal because the Professor has made moves on The Emperor?” He sputtered between bouts of laughter. 

Oh what he wouldn’t give to curse him up to his eyeballs right now. Just make that pretty little nose grow wings and fly away. “You don’t understand. You have yet to hear their business in the night.”

“I should hope not. Just imagine the trauma.” Ferdinand cackled, wiping a tear from his eyes. 

“If I wanted to be laughed at, I would have spoken this matter to Caspar.” Hubert hissed. 

“Forgive me, forgive me… phew,” He leaned back against his chair, letting out those last few giggles. “I haven’t had a laugh that great in ages. Thank you so much for stopping by.” 

“Clearly this was a mistake.” 

“Now now, Hubert. Why don’t you just spend some time with the Professor? Get to know him better.” 

Hubert cocked a brow. Just where would that get him? A cavalcade of lies and deceit? No, no he should at least hear him out. Ferdinand did bring up a point. The services to the Empire he offered were exemplary. There wouldn’t be much of an empire without his aid. The least he could do is hear him out. 

“Perhaps you’re right.” 

“Perhaps I am. Don’t worry about such trifles. Perhaps Her Majesty simply is happier now. I know I am with my wife.” He said with a firm nod. 

“Then… good day to you.” He said, rising from his seat.

Ferdinand’s grin returned in full. “Oh and mind the flowers. They may be putting a hex on Edelgard as well. We may have a weed for a leader in the coming years.”

“Good. Day. Sir.” 

/

“Urgh…”

Some people simply weren’t meant for the heat. Not even five minutes in, and the dark sorcerer was melting into the wooden seat. Some incompetent fool in the middle kept on adding more steam, probably trying to emaciate his entire body. Hubert’s skinny fingers curled and tugged at his towel, trying in vain to focus on something else other than the searing heat. When was that fool going to arrive?

As if on cue, Baelith opened the door and walked in, clad in only a towel. His brow raised. “Hubert?” 

“Good morning, Professor.” He managed. Any attempt at staying intimidating was lost from how raspy and tired he sounded. Curse this infernal heat. 

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be caught dead in this kind of place.” 

“Necessity requires some form of sacrifice, Professor. Please, sit down.” 

The Professor hesitated, but tip-toed across the wet floor, sitting next to Hubert. The awkward silence hung heavier than the steam in the room. The pair almost perfectly mimicked each other, hunched over, fingers wrung tightly together, staring at the lava rocks in deep contemplation. Looking at the pair of them though, it was like comparing a statue sculpted out of marble to a skeleton fresh from a year-old casket. 

Now that Hubert had the Professor right where he wanted to, everything he wanted to say sailed right out of his head like a disobedient parrot. It drove him mad. He had so many speeches on standby, taunts, threats, even a few curses lined up for good measure, and they were all gone in the blink of an eye. Was it the cursed heat? Maybe not having a bite to eat this morning? What else could it have been?

Hubert’s gaze drifted over to Baelith, who was suspiciously eyeing Hubert’s stomach. Or more rather, his very visible rib cage. “I seldom like being gawked at.” He quietly warned. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“Beg your pardon?” 

“When was the last time you had a good meal?” 

Hubert’s jaw tightened. Was the Professor seriously addressing him as though he was a child? The only one who held such authority was the rightful Emperor herself, not some lowborn former vessel with nothing to his name but a chipped sword. “What is the meaning of this?” 

“It’s just… have you always been so skinny?” Baelith asked, concerned. 

“My diet is not your concern.” 

“Or lack thereof,” Baelith mused. “Please, it’ll only take me a moment to make a sandwich.” 

“Professor,” Hubert shot across, sighing. “I am well aware of my… physique. The others are aware as well, especially with Caspar attempting to drum his fingers on them from time to time. This isn’t about me. I have come to speak to you.” 

Baelith narrowed his eyes, straightening up like a meerkat sensing danger. “How very ominous.”

“Professor, what are your intentions with Lady Edelgard?” He bluntly asked. 

Baelith snorted. “I intend to marry her, whenever we get the chance.”

“And?” 

“I don’t think intentions can go beyond marriage, Hubert.” 

Hubert frowned, mirroring the Professor and sitting upright. Conniving bastard. “Do not play dumb. With Her Majesty on the highest echelon of Fodlan royalty, and with you as her advisor, how easy would it be to sway the political climate in your favor? Or even worse yet, take the throne?” 

The chips were out on the table. The Professor drummed his fingertips against his kneecap, looking to be deep in thought. A monicker of his talent as an advisor, a tactician, and more fittingly, a teacher. A resounding amount of level-headedness and focus. Any other person in his position would have challenged those claims with shouts of fury and threats, but not him. 

“Why would I want the throne, Hubert?” He asked patiently. 

Hubert narrowed his eyes, a little taken aback. Shouldn’t it be obvious? “The same reason why anyone would want it. The power of the masses, wealth beyond your wildest dreams, going down in history.” 

“What I do is purely for the people,” Baelith said, setting his head back, playing with his hair. “Edelgard often gets on my case about not being ambitious. About wanting too little for my status and title. But not everyone wants to make some tremendous echo in history. Some just want to live their best lives. My best life is supporting those under my care. It just so happened that the one under my care was also orchestrating a massive coup.” 

Hubert found himself unable to speak for a moment. Was this the Professors's honeyed words in action again? That dreaded silver tongue that won the hearts of any and all in his class? Or was this him being genuine. Having dealt with the dark forces most of his career, it was harder to tell these days. 

“Believe it or not, I’m perfectly comfortable with my life right now,” He continued. “I’ve always been a man of simple wants, even as a kid. I have a beautiful and kind fiance, a nice home, good sparring partners, and a good job that I can rely on. What more could I want out of that? I know I’m not the easiest man to trust, but please at least try.”

The Sorceror gnawed on his lip. “You don't quite understand. I have been in service to my lady since I was a child. All of her needs, her woes, everything was taken care of gladly by me.”

“And some stranger suddenly comes in and seemingly strips you of that.” Baelith finished. 

A lump hardened in Hubert’s throat. “Her Majesty has been my world for ages. She has given me everything, and I would gladly die before watching her suffer.” 

To his surprise, Baelith rested a hand on his shoulder and offered a smile. “I plan on making her happy to the end of her days… and beyond even that. That’s a promise I intend to keep.”

This tricky, compulsive, silver-tongued devil. This beast of epic proportions. His words were starting to work their magic. Hubert sighed into his hands, resting his forehead between his crested fingers. After a minute, he peeked his head up and looked Baelith straight in the eyes. 

“Professor, I will stand down. This time. But mark my words, if Edelgard were to suffer and weep because of you, I will curse you down to your very soul.” He warned. 

“Believe me, if I were to dare, Edelgard would display my head on her balcony before you even got the chance.” He shuddered. 

/

Hubert walked across the hallway, basking in the dawn of a new morning. The new morning also meant a new collection of documents and paperwork that would probably take of most of the Emperor’s day. Again, he knocked on her door. “Lady Edelgard, please wake up.”

No answer. Once again, his blood went cold, then straight to boiling in a matter of seconds. Lacking his normal patience, he enchanted the lock and eased the door open. And once again, he screeched to a halt. 

Edelgard was pinned by her wrists to her bed, legs wrapped around her lover's waist, and the two were in the middle of trying to suck each other's lips off of their faces. Thankfully, their clothes were still on. There were so many things he could have said, but he just sighed and waved it away. Whatever makes his Lady happy.

“Now Lady Edelgard, the practice of safety during sex is paramount to stop unwanted pregnancies.” 

“H-Hubert!” 

Chapter Text

The skirmish had prolonged to its fourth hour now, Felix Hugo Fraldarius feeling his muscles begin to ache and throb. The bandits and soldiers alike poured out of the woodwork to replace any fallen comrade that happened to fall in battle. Bodies littered the muddy soil, dismembered and dismayed. There was more blood on the ground than rainwater, despite the horrendous storm that battered everyone in sight with heavy drops of rain. The fingers that held his sword trembled, his body shivering, curious of just how long this would all keep up.

Heaps of soldiers battled back and forth, the soldiers' discipline and skill versus the bandits' tenacity and berserker style of combat. Each of them probably had a cause to fight for, be it wealth, status, honor, or simply just to return home to their families. He couldn't even remember why they were fighting, nor did he care. Felix, however, was just caught in another battle simply because his sword called for blood. Living life by your sword, as a mercenary, meant you had to obey that urge when it came, especially if you wanted to survive to the next day.

A bandit raised his axe high, shrieking a loud battle cry. Felix let out a careful, shaky breath, ducking down and dashing at blurring speeds. The bandit was nearly split in two in the blink of an eye, dead before he hit the ground. Several more soon followed, clambering over the pile of bodies that were their comrades. Amber eyes darted between them. With a grunt, he parried an axe, dragging his blade across one bandit's throat and sidestepped another, decapitating the man behind him.

He suddenly hissed in pain as an arrow flew into the back of his thigh, nearly sending him down. He instead used the momentum to plunge his sword into the ankle of another bandit, pinning him to the ground as he wailed in agony. Stealing the bandit's sword right from his hip, he slit the back of his knee, before sending the blade into his eye. He seized the arrow in his grip and yanked it out, not even so much as wincing as he carried on the fight.

Felix panted, barely even feeling the pain of his wounds anymore. His heart hammered hard against his rib cage, threatening to burst out. Despite the numerous cuts and burns on his body, his movements remained fluid. Merciless. Unrelenting. He fought without regard for any bandit nor soldier, and from how the easily avoidable wounds cropped up himself. He was a demon on the battlefield, and all for just a few bits of coin.

It was another hour before the fight was over. Some of the soldiers didn't realize all the bandits were dead, some swinging at empty air. The heat and haze still clouded their minds. Felix stared listlessly at the many bodies at his feet. His eyes settled on the man who was nearly split in two, who was long dead.

On his finger was a silver ring.

His face was gaunt and numb. Yet again, he had separated a man from his family in the heat of battle. A father from a child, a husband from a wife, possibly a son from his family. His teeth grit, albeit briefly.

This was a battlefield, He reminded himself. He made his choice the moment he picked his weapon up to fight.

Felix sheathed his sword and marched past the ghost-faced and gaunt soldiers. He was the first to arrive at the commander's post, set up not too far from the skirmish. As per usual from the higher-ups, the older man was clean of mud and filth, his sword having very few stains on it. He glowered at the commander, who in turn, looked more excited than fearful.

"Felix, my boy," He cheered. "Felix Hugo Fraldarius in the flesh. Your skills on the battlefield still are as fearsome as ever. So young, yet so powerful."

"My power had better earn me my allotted pay." Felix cut in, eyes narrowing on the older man.

"Yes, yes, you will have your gold in a moment." The commander said dismissively, leaning over to peek past the young swordsman. A prideful grin stretched across his face. "Fine work out there. Very admirable."

Felix's eye twitched. "You call this admirable?" He demanded. "How many of your own men just died because of your poor planning and execution? If I weren't there, you might've lost twice more men than you have now. Going after an entire bandit compound just for a small bit of territory, how despicable."

The commander continued on, outright ignoring Felix's anger. "It's a matter of perspective. The country is still in chaos after the war. What's left of the Alliance territory is still being fought over. Imagine it. My Cerulean flags flapping in the winds of a brand new nation. No empires, no kingdoms, no fragmented alliance, just a unified country under my reign." His grin grew ear to ear. "All under my name, Gustav von Tepes."

"Sounds revolting." Felix deadpanned.

Gustav clicked his tongue, taking a heavy sip of his crimson wine. "It's staggering how difficult you are to work with. And here I was about to offer you an opportunity."

Felix raised a brow.

"Oh yes. A seat at my side as my loyal head-captain knight. With your strength at my side, we may take this desolate country, and turn it into something great again." The pride in that man's eyes was vile. It was as if he knew nothing could get the young swordsman to refuse. Felix, though, was a master at shattering expectations, for better or worse.

"I don't give a damn. Where's my pay?" Felix demanded.

Gustav's face fell. "Now hold on, good sir. Really think about what you're doing."

"I've thought enough. You can't cage me, you old goat. Where is my pay?" The pair eyed each other, glares sharp enough to split the air. Seeing Felix's steely gaze, he sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat.

"Suit yourself," He said begrudgingly, plopping a pouch unceremoniously on the wooden table. "It's a shame. We truly could have used a knight of your power."

"You don't want me. Believe that." Felix ominously replied. "Where I go, death follows. If you want to keep your head on your shoulders, keep your distance." He pocketed the money and threaded off in the distance, leaving drops of blood behind him. Whether it was his or his enemies were left up for debate.

/

By the time Felix reached the nearest inn, he was half-convinced he was dead. The heavy wooden doors swung open, nearly sending him tumbling down as he leaned against them. His legs were shaking from the seemingly endless hike across hills and valleys. Several of the patrons eyed him in the bright candlelight, some instantly recoiling and shrinking in fear.

He sat down at the bar, groaning quietly, propping his head on his hand. Walking everywhere was starting to take a toll. He probably had more blisters on his feet than death wishes by now. For a moment, he thought about purchasing a horse. His head lulled to the side, spotting a horse just outside the window, eating hay and spitting everywhere. He cringed.

"I'd rather have you as a meat pie than a companion." He muttered.

The inn was ablaze with noise. Songs, chatter, and the like, as we as the gentle, warm flicker of lanterns and the heavenly smell of fresh bread. It was relaxing, in all honesty. Regardless of the chatter, from the benign and mundane, to the adventurous and audacious, it was noise. Anything was better than silence. He winced at the idea of getting stuck in his own head, remembering every little detail of the war, the betrayals, all of the little nasty details that stayed over him at night like a wet, heavy, and musty blanket. At least here, he could be warm, dry, and afford for once not to think.

The days were getting shorter. Winter was creeping around the corner. It was always the easiest month to find work- soldiers were allotted a lot of downtimes, as friend and foe alike bunkered down for the ensuing blistering cold Fodlan snowstorms. As such, the notice board was filled to the brim, some overlapping others. Some were promising a lot of pay.

Felix's` heart raced at the thought of his next battle. His next war. What a thrill it would be. Maybe he could find an opponent that was worth his time. Maybe find someone even better than him. Dear goddess, let it be someone better than him.

Maybe he could finally be at peace.

Felix took a sip of his mug of ale, letting the minutes pass by, letting the atmosphere do the living for him. Before he could take a second sip, a quick, rabbit-fingered jab to his shoulder took his attention away. He swiveled his head back, spotting a young man, looking downright terrified. He sighed. Common as these reactions may be, it didn't make it any less troublesome when random folks think of you as the devilman walking.

"What do you want, child?" He sniped.

"Y-your name would happen t-to be… Felix Huge Frontalorous?"

Felix nearly slapped the boy, and then himself. "What? No. Felix Hugo Fraldarious. Is this some sort of joke?"

"R-right. Felix… Hu… go…" the boy looked like he was about to faint.

"Get to the point," Felix demanded, not wanting to have to carry this wayward child home.

"Yes sir!" He reached into a leather rucksack and pulled out a pristine white letter with a wax seal on the base Felix had seen before. The seal of the Empire was addressed directly to him as well. It was ponderous, to say the least. "Who was this from?"

"A noble. He asked me not to mention his name, but er, he said not to worry, paranoid as you may be." He suddenly raised his hands defensively. "Not saying you're paranoid, sir! His words, not mine!"

"How reassuring."

The young courier spent the next few moments gaping in awe. Felix could have sworn he saw a star or two twinkle in his eyes. Whatever the case, it was getting awkward. Felix averted his gaze. "Have you been helped?"

"Huh?"

"Do you need help? If so, go to church. They can heal madness, or in my experience, perhaps make it worse."

"Oh! Sorry, sorry, I must've been gawking." The boy bowed his head politely in apology. "This is just an honor, sir. I'm standing in front of a hero of war- a legend turned mercenary! Who else can say they've handed a letter to The Azure Reaper?"

"Dozens. Perhaps hundreds. Get to the point." Felix impatiently pressed.

"It's just, I have so many questions. How was it, deep in the war, fighting for our new Empire? What were your companions like? How did it feel, defeating the tyrant father you had-"

The boy's mouth snapped shut as Felix's grip reduced the large wooden mug to splinters. His fist shook. This boy was one more word away from having his head caved in. Whatever questions the boy had left had died in his throat. He backed up slowly, picking up the pace until he did a full sprint out of the inn. Felix let out a little 'hmph'. "If only that foot in his mouth was any bigger. It might've stopped him from talking."

He glanced at the letter on the table. The wax seal was adorned with the highest mark the country could possibly give. A mark of great pride, with whatever being requested in the letter to be respected and obeyed without question. The seal of the Emperor.

Felix held it over candlelight and watched it burn.

He passed a glance at the other mercenary notices littering the board before standing up and shambling toward the door.

/

Kids from around the ruins of the Monastery town gathered around the square, where Annette sat on a crate, eagerly smiling from ear to ear. Some sat on the bits of rubble that used to be a fort, others on the fractured road, still on the cusp of repair, one particular little boy sat next to her, with a smile just as wide as herself. Annette looked far and wide at the dozen or so children, and the spare soldier that tried to blend in among the rugrats, and nodded before she began to sing.

The song wasn't much, especially with how basic and rather childish the lyrics were. Stuff about watering plants or cleaning up the library. Things that were simple, almost benign, and everyday to-do stuff. But the everyday things always made for the best songs. They came from the heart, or as it was rudely put to her years ago, her stomach, and in all frankness, she loved singing and songwriting. It felt like it was one of the few things that really drew the world together that wasn't found on a battlefield.

After nearly an hour, she saw Caspar and Dorothea in the corner of her eye. The pair spotted her and waved, making a bee-line for her. "Alright, kids, Anny's gotta take care of a few things- Oh don't worry don't worry," She cooed to the frowning and whining children before any uproar could start. "I'll be right back here tomorrow, and maybe I can teach you a thing or two about magic. Sound great?" As soon as the kids scattered, she stood up and stretched. "Ooh, I just love that sun." she cheered, basking in the bright mountain sunlight.

"And I think those kids love you," Dorothea said with a bright smile on her face. "It's nice, what you're doing though. Trying to help those orphans, I mean." She let out a mournful sigh. "I could've made a diva out of you yet."

Annette felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Oh, you know, I mean… why not?" Oh dear, she still couldn't take compliments well. "They don't need to keep thinking about the bad, you know? Let these kids be kids."

"Try telling them that. I've got one of those little tykes following me around, trying to lift rubble with me. That kid got some guts, I'll tell you that." Caspar chimed in, hefting too large boxes over and under his arms as if they weighed less than paper.

"And you're not letting them, are you?" Dorothea sternly asked.

"Huh? Why not? If the kids wanna help out, let'em."

"Caspar…" Dorothea sighed into her hand. "Kids aren't supposed to be lugging rubble around like mules. Goddess, what am I going to do with you."

"I'd help, but I can't lift half this stuff," Annette sighed, looking at the heaps of rubble still littering the bridge and monastery. "And I don't think lifting it around with magic'll help. Unless you want it floating off past the clouds."

"A little subtlety goes a long way. Maybe you can help with the cooking? I would if I could make anything remotely palatable." Dorothea muttered.

Annette shook her head, grimacing. "We just rebuilt that kitchen not even a week ago. Do you want it burnt to the ground a fourth time?"

Caspar blinked. "Fourth… time?"

Annette's cheeks went red again. It was nearly seven years ago at this point. It was one explosion. Only one! And maybe a few minor disasters thereafter involving the food literally growing legs and running around the kitchen, but a little magical experimentation is good for food! "Please just don't think about it too hard."

Dorothea snorted and turned her attention away, looking at the fantastic view of the monastery from the bridge. The scars of war were still everywhere, unavoidably so, but were being mended. The town was put back together in full, along with the fort and castle walls. The insides were still in the words, but they were moving quickly. The last step would be the church itself, the grandest of tasks for a rather motley crew of tinkers and tailors. In the afternoon, clear sky and bright sun, it started to resemble something like its old self. At least from an optimist's point of view.

"It's really starting to come back to life, huh? And after so long." Dorothea said in awe.

"Yeah, it's been a long time since this place wasn't just a hazard to walk around in. What with all the falling rubble, unexploded magical runes, bandits, and the like," Caspar said. "Cleaning that all out was such a pain, but it was worth it."

"There's still a massive piece of wall stuck in my old dorm room," Dorothea sighed.

"Well, I could always get Caspar to- oh hey," She cooed suddenly, feeling a tug at her dress. It was a young boy, maybe about five or six. "What're you still doing here? Manuella's still giving out lessons, why don't you go on?"

The young girl pulled on her blonde hair a bit and pointed at the clock tower. It was nearly noon, and instantly she understood. It was around that time, wasn't it?

"Hey, if you guys don't mind, I'm gonna help her out. Don't wait too long for me." She took the little girl's hand and walked across the fractured bridge of the church and through the dilapidated gate outfitted with wooden construction ledges. The main hall was still abuzz with carpenters and craftsmen, weaving through each other seamlessly, carrying heavy beams and stone as they did. The young woman and child shifted through the crowd as if they weren't even there and snaked their way to their destination.

The Graveyard.

"So who are you here to visit, hmm?" She soothed, leaning to face the child.

The little girl wiped her tearing eyes, shaking like a newborn deer. "My sister. She died, during the war."

Annette felt a painful thud in her chest. "Yeah… so did mine."

No matter how many times Annette walked these grounds, it never got easier. Even now, the walk towards those hallowed grounds was more draining than any fight during the war. Her legs felt like they had boulders attached to each one, then were reduced to jelly the moment she stepped inside. A few steps into the flower-filled, brightly-lit graveyard, she already felt a hot stinging in the corners of her eyes and her palms sweating.

It was beautifully preserved, even after all the fighting. Although some of the gravestones were scratched and dismayed, the graveyard stayed relatively intact, as though protected through divine intervention.

She stared wistfully at some of them. It stabbed much deeper when she remembered some of their names. Richard Belle, a younger soldier who promised his mother he'd make it home. A stray arrow caught him on the neck on the tail end of the first monastery invasion by the church. Micah von Hardy, an older man who she spoke to from time to time. He was struck by a Bolting spell. It happened so out of nowhere. All she was thankful for was how instantaneous it was. And the hardest stab of all was the larger headstone, adorned with a crest.

Mercedes von Maritz.

"Mercie…" She mumbled, tears freely falling down her cheeks.

The little girl held her hand tighter. "Are you okay, miss Anny?"

"Yeah, yeah, definitely," She sputtered, quickly wiping her face. "Don't worry about it. Let's go find your sister."

She looked at the sky overhead, watching the oncoming storm. She grimaced. Wasn't there a battalion patrolling that area? Maybe she ought to take a trip…

/

It waited until Felix was hours away from town before the heavens let loose. Thick sheets of rain blew nearly sideways at his back, soaking the struggling mercenary through and through. Yet another strike on him from some angry deity, be it the goddess, or something else that Felix had struck a nerve in. In the dead of midnight, with not a town in sight for miles. With luck as amazing as this, he wondered why a bolt of lightning hadn't fried him on the spot yet.

A downpour in the middle of Fharghus, the coldest northern region of the country. Needless to say, any feeling in his fingers, toes, and the tip of his nose had been long gone. It was cold. Far too cold- it was almost akin to torture. Ice formed between the cracks and chinks of his chest plate and around the edges of his clothing, blasted away seconds later by the beating rain and howling wind. He breathed in ragged shudders and went into the air as a misty haze. He was freezing to death, and he could barely care. Only that it came faster.

Little by little, his strides became a slow trudge and that soon turned into stumbling and staggering. Felix could have sworn the world flipped sideways until he fell face-first into the snow.

Instant migraine.

The snow burned. It felt as though the cold was searing his skin. Goddess, it hurt so bad. Felix shut his eyes tight, clenching his teeth, or he could have sworn he did. The world was still doing cartwheels around his vision. He could barely feel anything, let alone move. He tried to push himself up but ended up eating snow again. Snow and rain were already starting to pile onto his back.

What was he still doing here?

Where was he even going?

The weary traveler didn't remember taking up any quests from the mission board before leaving. Felix was just… walking. Somewhere. He didn't know where. Didn't even know why. He couldn't fathom it. He'd never have gotten himself so lost before.

Felix's head snapped up, glancing back and forth from a sudden crushing sound. That sounded like snow crushed under a boot. "Who's there?" He croaked, throat ironically dry as a bone. He could see it just out of the corner of his eye, between a couple of dead trees. A tall silhouette, incredibly broad-shouldered and very powerful, a heavy cape blowing in the wind.

No, not again.

He could hear whispers over the howling rain. It was hushed and quick, nearly impossible to decipher. Felix crawled on his numb hands and knees, thinking gaining inches of distance from that shadow of a man was some kind of milestone. The more he crawled, the louder the voices became. Shallow whispers became gentle murmurs. A cold hand gripped Felix's heart the more he heard. Sad voices. Some crying, some trying to wail, some horrifyingly devoid of hope and speaking numbly. Some just like himself.

His head bumped against a tree trunk. To his surprise, it was open and hollow, with just enough room to squeeze in. The exhausted mercenary wriggled and forced his frame through it, relieved not to have the rain constantly beating down on his back and shoulders. The voices didn't stop, however. In fact, they grew louder by the moment, until they became outright cries.

Why did you kill me? I spent my life at your side, my liege!

I had a family, sire. A family. How could you?

All just to swing that damn sword around! Damn you!

He remembered them. He remembered all of them. The nobles, the mercenaries, the common soldiers just providing for their families, all fighting for king and country, were floating around him, taunting him. So many voices. All of them he killed without mercy or second thought. The sword at his hip suddenly felt like it weighed as much as a boulder.

Felix curled into a ball, clutching hold of his ears, trying hard to block the noise out, but by the goddess, it just became louder. Screams, wails of pain and misery, all the souls he damned, everything spiraling around him in a tight circle that just wouldn't stop talking. He could hear them all over the pouring rain.

They wouldn't stop. They just wouldn't. Goddess, it was maddening! Couldn't they tell he was sorry? Couldn't they? He couldn't take it anymore. All the throbbing headaches, and sleepless nights. All the nightmares. When would it all end?

"Dear me, what a strange place to find you, Felix."

The mercenaries heart stopped. It was as though all sound, from the voices to the pouring rain, vanished. He looked up, jaw quivering, eyes wide with terror. At the entrance stood a mountainous silhouette of a man, with a billowing cape and broad shoulders. He was carrying something in his hands, rolled up in a blanket. Felix couldn't identify the figure- the figure was tall enough that he could only see from the neck down, and not anything to do with his face.

"What do you want?" Felix rasped.

"Oh, me? I'm simply enjoying a nightly stroll. What might you be up to, all alone?" The figure asked. That voice was far too casual. As if there wasn't a massive rainstorm in the frozen winter of Fharghus, blowing everything away.

"It's none of your concern," Felix shuddered. "Leave me be. I want nothing to do with you."

"You made that quite clear at the Tailtean Plains."

Felix shook his head. "I-I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this."

"And yet you chose it," The specter mused. "You chose to raise that eagle banner high and strike down your own kingdom."

Another dull throb of pain in his head. He hissed in pain, raising his hand to his head. "Why do you keep haunting me?"

The specter didn't reply. A sudden gust of wind blew the blanket away, and along with it, Felix's breath.

In the specter's hands was Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

Felix screamed, flattening his back against the tree bark, legs scraping helplessly on the soil in some attempt to escape. The head of his former best friend stared blankly at him, eyes lacking light, but still very spiteful. Still full of the hate he saw all those years ago.

"Because you want me to."

/

"C'mon, Felix, up and at'em!" Annette called, patting the fallen mercenaries' cheek.

What on earth was that voice? It was peppy, cute, melodious. Absolutely pleasing to the ears and Felix felt himself relax listening to it. His head felt like it was floating on a fleshy pillow. His eyes fluttered open and he saw grass peppered with bits of snow.

Wasn't he freezing to death a moment ago? His entire body felt hot, tingly, and very sweaty. The feeling in his extremities had come back, but it felt more like a blessing than a curse with the hot stinging pain. He looked up and saw nothing but a blinding blur, with a silhouette looming overhead that made his heart skip a beat. There was no escape, was there?

"Just kill me already." He mumbled.

"Bah! You're back!" The silhouette squealed in surprise. "But uh, why would I kill you?"

Wait, squealed?

Felix blinked the vision back into his eyes as all the colors and shapes in his vision formed together and cleared. What he saw took his breath away. A ginger-haired young woman with a vibrant smile and bright eyes. She wore a tight white dress with an orange-fired shawl around her shoulders and a rather glamorous-looking gem around her neck. No wonder he felt at ease with her voice.

"Annette?" He gasped, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. His head was nestled on her lap, and he could feel her fingers combing through his hair.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Felix. I missed you."

Chapter Text

When Felix next opened his eyes, he wanted to force them closed again and go back to sleep. Binding sunlight beamed between the opening flaps of a tent. It was too gentle of a morning to get up. The winds were calm, birds were singing, and there was a slight smell of vanilla and creme in the air, almost like being stationed close to a bakery again. Despite not being a fan of sweets, the scent was always quite calming, which everyone needed during a time of war.

It took only now for Felix to realize he had no idea where he was. Not for the first time. Having the freedom of a mercenary meant one too many nights waking up in random places covered in booze and vomit. The only difference was that this place was warm and clean. He couldn't make anything out from his blurry vision, but he felt a warmth like no other. The pillow on his head was warm and supple, almost fleshy, and he could've sworn he could make out a heartbeat, but he excused it as his own.

The quiet humming though? That was another thing entirely.

When he finally let his eyes flutter open, he saw the linings of a tan-colored tent, one that he sure as hell didn't put up. Was he kidnapped? Perhaps being sold into slavery? Missing his shirt certainly didn't help the matter. He felt the wind against his flesh, bandages lining up his torso, and a few lines of gauze around one of his biceps. Someone must have patched his battle-worn body up. Slavers don't like broken tools, after all.

Fighting off the brief, unfamiliar panic so he could focus, he cast scanned the room for anything he could use as a weapon, but the moment he turned his head, he was met with two beautiful blue eyes staring widely back at him.

A woman?

Just then, he could make everything out much clearer. The hands holding his head delicately, with a few fingers combing through his dark-blue locks, the softness of the "pillow" he rested under, and the calming humming. Reality splashed him with cold water, then immediately again with boiling as his cheeks turned pink. Well, that certainly is a way Felix never expected breasts to be used.

"... Annette?"

"Um… Good morning, Felix." She stammered, looking about as frozen as he was. Her cheeks were red enough that he worried for a moment she'd catch on fire. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine." He admitted. "I'd feel a lot better if I knew what the hell was going on." He looked around the room again, finding his tattered black shirt and furred baby-blue tailed coat lying folded in the corner of the tent, with his two swords laid neatly on top of them. Instantly, he felt a sense of relief seeing them.

"Sorry, sorry, you hate it? Oh no, oh no, I'm so sorry! I forgot how much you hated physical contact," She panicked, locked up tighter than a drum. "It's just, you'd gone cold and were shivering, a-and you were muttering something about ghosts in the night under your breath. I thought you were getting too cold and delirious, so I wanted to warm you up and- Oh jeez, stupid Annette, you're rambling again." She let out a sigh. Goddess, even her sighs were delicate and melodious. "It was something we used to do in wartime, remember?"

"All too well." Felix's cheeks burned red again, remembering those nights he spent in Annette's tent during the war, where mysteriously, all his woes would disappear. "How did you find me?"

"By the will of the goddess, I guess." She shrugged lightly. "I was actually looking for a battalion of soldiers that went patrolling the area, but never reported back in."

"And you being you, decided to check on them," Felix guessed.

"It's the least I can do. They're brave soldiers working for next to nothing to build something back up again that probably haunts a lot of people," Annette pointed out softly. "They're one of my former battalions after all- mind you, I still have no clue how they put up with me."

"The same way I did. Appreciation. Hard work and charisma work wonders, Annette." Felix answered obviously. Someone like Annette should know that. She's one of a kind, a true gem in human form. Felix knew this firsthand. So why did that fact make her look so shocked and flustered?

"Aww, Felix, you big sap, quit it," She cooed a bit, avoiding his gaze.

What a strange woman, even two years later.

The tent did a sudden bounce. What in the world, was he still asleep? "Is there an earthquake?"

"What? Wow, you're really out of it, huh?" She giggled. "We're in a wagon. I managed to flag one down on my way out of the forest."

In a wagon? Oh glory be, he doesn't have to walk. The blisters on his feet all leaped for joy. "Where are we headed? Fhirdiad?"

Annette swallowed. "I should hope not. They're still not too happy with me up there."

"Did any of them hurt you?" Felix asked, feeling his heart race a little.

"No, nothing like that. It… well, we can talk about that later. For now, just rest." She cooed. "We've still got an hour left to go before we arrive at Garreg Mach."

Felix's narrow eyes widened slightly. The Monastery, huh? Felix's fate seemed to be bound to that place. "If you insist," Felix mumbled, drifting back to sleep, having a strange dream of orange-colored sheep hopping over a fence.

/

The clean mountain air was heaven to Felix's sinuses. How he longed to breathe in air that wasn't caked with dust or smoke and didn't have the stench of blood in it. The wagon stopped shortly before they entered the gate, and the horseman dismounted. He tested the waters, making a few attempts to sit up, and managing to stay upright on the fourth try without a wave of nausea washing over him. Sucking in some raspy breaths, he crawled to the tent flaps.

Why was the floor on fire? The first step felt like he was stepping on hot coals on an open flame. He cried out and fell onto his side, holding the soles of his feet. Annette scrambled out of the tent, eyes tight with concern. Felix had to stop himself from chuckling a bit. The girl's response time was out of this world.

"Felix! What happened? Can you stand?" She fussed, checking him for any more scratches.

"Obviously. Can't you tell?" He groaned sarcastically, gratefully slinging his arm around her shoulder as she sat him up.

"Always with the sarcasm, huh?" She giggled. "Never change, Felix- Oh dear goddess! What in the world happened to your feet?"

"They're finally getting back to me after all these years," Felix growled, cursing them.

"Didn't you ever think to buy a horse?"

"I'd sooner eat the horse than ride it."

The mage stifled a giggle with her hand. That smile was absolutely radiant. It was like trapping sunlight in a bottle and keeping it around to warm him up. He didn't want to admit it, but damn did he miss this familiar face. "Felix, please don't eat our horses. We need them," She craned her neck, scanning his shaking legs and bleeding feet. Her brows scrunched together. "Oh jeez, did you get hit too many times in the head? How didn't you notice any of this? Look at your feet!"

Even Felix had to admit, they looked terrible. His soles were all caked with mud, with bleeding and cracked blisters up and down them. He stared at them numbly and offered a little "Huh", like he just realized he was working his feet to death.

"C'mon, Felix," Annette groaned, straining to hold up his weight as she stood. "Just swallow your pride for a few minutes and sit on the horse. Maybe I can cook you a little something that isn't a horse?"

"If you say so," He grumbled, forcing himself up onto the wretched thing.

"I've got my eye on you, mister. Hup!" Without warning, Annette swung her leg over the side, just barely missing Felix's chest. Before he could complain, she clicked her tongue and the damn beast took off like a bat out of hell. Or that may have been the prejudice talking- it was more like a quick canter. It was enough for Felix to nearly fall backward and break his neck.

"That little-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, that was my fault, I'm sorry!" She soothed quickly, running her fingers through that devil's mane. "Poor girl's so used to carrying me for long distances alone, so she's probably not used to company. It might help if you held onto me."

"... You're kidding."

"Do you want to walk? That can be arranged."

Felix swallowed. That girl and her damn fire. He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her belly. He could've sworn he heard a little squeal from her the moment his grip tightened. "What, is it too tight now?"

"No, no, just… keep your eyes forward."

Garreg Mach hadn't changed a bit. The destruction and restoration of the monastery did nothing to take away from its spirit. There was that sense of candor, the same spirit that made him feel more at home than he ever did in Fhirdiad. That gash he left in the dormitory wall was still there, a day he remembered all too well. It was the day that his father strolled in to protect his majesty, and Felix lost his temper during training since the professor ratted him out. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Where've you been?" Annette questioned, thankfully breaking Felix out of his thoughts. "You sort of vanished the second the war ended. We never got a goodbye."

"Fraldarius house wasn't exactly happy to keep me around after all that's happened," Felix explained in a low tone. "What with me murdering the duke in cold blood, not to mention my hand in Dimitri's death. I didn't get much of a chance. The second I stepped into my household, my uncle ordered guards to execute me on the spot. It was brazen, but that is our family in a nutshell. Brazen and stupid."

He shut his eyes tight, sucking in a deep breath. Just simply remembering them hurt. He could see their faces just contorted with hate, just wishing he didn't exist, lamenting over what he stole from them. But he made his decision and it stuck to him like molten honey. For better or worse.

"Felix…" That warm glow in her concerned eyes was all he needed to see to feel a little less like running himself through with a pike.

"What about you?" He looked around. "You've been busy."

"Oh me? I was kind of put in charge of bringing this place back into working order. This was a lot of headaches and very angry soldiers, but we're managing. They're even letting me put up a memorial for the Kingdom, near one of the cathedrals." She explained with a chipper smile.

Might let.

"How generous." Felix snorted out loud.

"Hey, it's better than nothing, and it took a lot of deliberating just to get that. Edelgard was all for it, but there's a surprising amount of soldiers who just want nothing to do with it. Almost like we're cursed…" She trailed off, solemn and silent. The poor girl could barely keep her head up after that. "Even after everything we've done."

Felix tightened his grip around her waist, and she perked up instantly. "Sorry. I feel like… I'm still about to fall off." He stammered. Wait, stammered? Since when did that sharp tongue ever strike something it couldn't break?

"No, no, it's perfectly fine," She assured, looking back at him with a glowing smile, her ears, and cheeks pink. "If you're that uncomfortable, you can hold on as tight as you want. Just like old times, right?"

Yeah, just like old times.

The pair cantered around the trailed roads of the monastery, past the dining hall with a gaping hole in the wall, and through the old Eagles dormitory that looked starkly untouched through the five years of turmoil it went through. They did earn a few gazes and one too many snickers. One good stare into his gleaming eyes sent them packing.

The Blue Lions dorm was as tattered as it was during the war, perhaps even more so. There were even signs of the area being torched unsuccessfully, blood from where rotten animals were hung off doors, and even some slurs nailed to the doors that still weren't removed. All signs of vandalism that screamed to him that he wasn't welcome here, let alone anyone else that defected to the Empire. Felix clenched his jaw. Rotten damn imperial soldiers. Fighting side by side wasn't good enough to earn their trust apparently.

"Home sweet home," Annette mumbled. "This is where I'm staying for the moment. Ironically, my room's probably one of the few left standing in this place."

"I guess I'll be taking my old room then."

"I'll have one of my men grab your things and help you in. And Felix?" She smiled again, putting some pink back on his cheeks. "Glad to have you back."

"Don't get used to me," He warned. "I'll be up and out of here the second I'm fit for travel. A mercenary can't be stationary and be successful."

"And Felix…" He could see the concern in her eyes from a mile away. "Since when did you start calling him Dimitri?"

Felix didn't answer. Merely kept his stoic stare until she gave up and dismounted, waving to him before leaving.

/

Oh Goddess, Oh Goddess, Oh Goddess!

Annette rolled around her bed like an excited school girl, holding her burning red cheeks. It was nearly midnight and she still couldn't get a wink of sleep, but this time, it wasn't the nightmares. More like dreams and fantasies brought to life. It was like one of the stories she and Mercedes often gushed about in the dead of night, back during the days of the magic school. The dangerous swordsman, an outlaw in most parts of the world, guided by a delicate, kind soul to nurse him back to health? Now Annette was far from delicate mind you, but that fantasy was still hung right up in the forefront of her mind.

And she spent nearly two hours keeping him warm in a wagon. Remembering that made her heart skip a beat.

Even after years of combat, none of it marred Felix's physique. He was still quite handsome, with those piercing golden eyes and sharp features. That mangy blue hair tied in a messy ponytail may have needed a thorough brushing, but it still looked fetching on him. He still wore those fatigues he had in the war, tattered and worn as they were. One of the sleeves was fully torn off, for goodness sake. Still, the view of his strong, bare bicep was a treat to the eyes. She couldn't help but gush. What a strong man he was.

There was something different in his eyes, however, and in the way, he behaved. Not to mention, she'd never seen him act so mellow before. Normally, that sharp tongue and competitive streak would start causing uproars and fights, but he seemed more content with just simply staring.

She couldn't place it, but there was some form of melancholy and haunt behind those eyes. She hugged her pillow tightly, pretending it was his him, that it was everyone within reach still in pain, and imagined she took it all away.

"What would you do, Mercie?" Annette quietly asked.

The silence stung just as much as it has the last two years. Wiping some stray tears off her face, she sat up, fixing her bed. If she couldn't sleep, she may as well just take a walk.

It was a pleasant night, with a cool breeze wafting through her dress. Construction settled down for the day and there was barely anyone walking around aside from a few patrolling knights. Few paid her any attention, with maybe a handful offering a wave that she eagerly returned. At least none of them spat at her feet this time.

In truth, the end of the war hadn't been kind to any of the soldiers who defected, especially from the side of the Kingdom. If they weren't called zealots, savages, or some of the more blatant slurs from the imperial citizens, they had stones thrown at them from the kingdom side and were known as traitors. No one seemed to want them, no matter how much they bled and sacrificed. An almost cruel turn of events from them following the path they believed in.

Too cruel.

The graveyard was in the corner of her eye- ironically a comforting place to be, even at this time of night. Gravestones still stood untouched, with one in particular made of white marble and with a bouquet of flowers. A small, one-sided smile cracked on her lips.

"Someone left your favorite flowers," She happily said. "Not sure who, but if I do see them, I'll thank them for you."

She sat on her knees, facing the marble grave, happy just how pure and beautiful it was, befitting of the woman it represented. Oh, Mercie…

"Sorry that I don't pop by as much as I used to, it's just been so busy lately. The Monastery's nearly finished being rebuilt. We're just down the fixing the school back up and we'll be done! What else…" Annette tapped her chin in thought, feeling a rush of frustration. She usually had a mountain of things to talk about, but every time she came here, that mountain shrank into a molehill. "Oh! Caspar turned the dining hall into a battleground because he wanted the last piece of steak. Someone wanted it a bit more than he did and had a meteor come crashing down into the dining hall. Still, not the biggest disaster that place has ever faced, I might add."

She bit her lip. What was she doing? Talking to nothing? To a lump of rock? She cursed herself for it, but goddess, she had to be listening. She had to be.

"Oh yeah, Felix! We found him today, stuck in the neighboring forest. He's been traveling for ages as a high-priority mercenary. He's not looking too good, but I guess none of us are anymore, but at least he's alive," She swallowed before continuing, feeling her voice break. "I really miss you, Mercie. More now than ever. I don't think I've ever felt so alone. And I'm sorry. I wish I could just go back and-"

Plip, plip, plip.

It took a few moments to realize that her own tears were dripping onto her dress. How dangerously close had she just come to bawling her eyes out? She sucked in a deep breath, wiping her tears away.

"Keep strong, keep strong, keep strong," She mumbled the mantra quietly to herself, gripping the hems of her dress. "You've still got work to do. You can cry all you want afterward."

She stood up and stretched, feeling a rush of drowsiness. "I'll come back tomorrow, Mercie. Don't wait up."

On the way out of the graveyard, she began to wonder. What was it Felix loved again? Duscur Steak?

/

It had been months since Felix had a bed to sleep in. No exaggeration on the fact either. Constantly being on the move kept the business flowing and the reputation soaring. That would mean forgoing the more comfortable means of living for grassy patches, hollow trees, and if he was lucky, a bail of hay that was out of anyone's notice. Finish a job, lick your wounds clean, then march to the next battlefield wondering if it was that day a sword would end up in his chest.

So of course, he couldn't sleep.

The mattress was far too soft- it was like sleeping on a cloud. Like a massive cushion was trying to swallow him whole. It was near sunrise before he gave up all hope and rested on the wooden floor, only managing a couple of hours of sleep. Spare clothes were provided for him, a simple black shirt and trousers. After touching up on his many wounds, he marched outside, nearly blinded by the sunlight.

Barely being able to walk, let alone travel, there was no way he could get to his next battlefield. There was no one to fight. No one to intimidate or boast his power to. He looked around at the workers scrambling around him, the children playing with wooden swords, and the craft makers crafting away. Everyone living their daily lives, all occupied, some with smiles on their faces.

Sudden searing pain in his legs made him sit down on a crate, in the town square. All of these thoughts had him combing his fingers through his hair, feeling… depressed. Like there was something missing that he couldn't place, and it was driving him insane.

Clack, clack, clack heels tapped closer towards him, making him groan. This wasn't the time to be bothered. This was his time to brood, as Annette would call it. "Hey there, stranger," A melodic, rather exotic voice pepped.

Felix scoffed. Now that was a voice and attitude worth remembering. "Dorothea, was it? It's been a long time."

The beautiful brunette crossed her arms over her chest, putting those diva skills to the test and putting out her lip in a rather childish-looking pout. "That's it? Not a hug, or even gracing me with a look?"

"I've never been one for hugs, you know that."

"Oh ho? Annette would beg to differ," Dorothea giggled, straightening her dress before sitting next to Felix, taking quite a lot of joy seeing how pink those cheeks got.

"I was half-dead on a horse," He explained. "It was either keep a grip on her or break my neck. Now that I have to listen to your heckling, that prospect doesn't seem too bad."

"Touchy touchy. Life would be grander if you could just smile for a change, you know," She sang, putting two of her slender fingers to the corners of her pink lips and pushing them up. "Come now, it's not that hard. Show those pearly whites off."

"My 'Pearly Whites' are staying where they are," He retorted. "And what are you doing all the way up here? I thought you'd purchased a place down in Enbarr?"

"Oh, that I did. It's a nice place. Very grand and spacious. It's also full of children."

Felix blinked. "That many? At your age?"

"No no, none of them are mine. At least, not officially," She hastily cut in. Her fingers wrung together, her smile becoming rather pure instead of that pretty mask she wore. "It started off as this dusty old house that I called my private castle and now it's an orphanage. Go figure."

"You always were too kind for your own good," Felix said, with an impressed nod. At least someone thought of the people after the war. Far better than anyone of the likes of him.

"And you've always been too cantankerous. Honestly, if I didn't know you, I would've assumed you were an old man from how you behave, wrinkles and all," She giggled. "Anyway, I'm only here to keep Annie company, and now that you're here, I can head back home."

Again, Felix was stumped. "Wait, what?"

Dorothea crossed her arms again, giving him that damn look. "You're not just going to leave her, are you?"

"I do have a few missions left on my belt-"

"Well to hell with the missions. You're about to leave Annette behind again? Without a word even?" She chastised. That woman still had that talent to make him feel both on top of the world and lower than an ant all at the same time. She had an art to it.

"I would've said goodbye…" He mumbled in a guilty tone.

"'I would've said goodbye, that's you right now Felix," She mimed in a mockingly deep tone. She shrugged her shoulders, raising her palms in surrender. "Oh alright then. Go on and leave to go chop off another couple of heads and rake in those coins. I'm sure Annette will be fine all alone here with all these prejudices and hatred coming her way, not to mention the loneliness, oh goddess, the loneliness."

That sly little vixen…

"Don't you think I know what you're doing?" He growled.

"I haven't a clue what you mean. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to let her know that she has plenty of private time now-"

"Don't-... ugh." He faltered, running his fingers aggressively through his hair. "Fine. I'll stick around a bit longer. Happy?"

A sly grin stretched across her face. "Absolutely ecstatic. Now to tell her the good news for a change. She was really worried that you'd leave."

What is the was that supposed to mean? What woman in their right mind would care whether or not he lived or died? He shrugged it off. "Tell her what you want, it doesn't matter to me."

"I think it matters more to you than you're telling me," She suspected.

"You don't know a thing about me."

"I know you enough to know that you're in pain. I can see it in Annie's eyes too. You two are really close, I can tell," She snapped her finger suddenly. "Ah, the perfect idea! You can tell her."

Felix's jaw went slack. "You've gone nuts over the last couple of years."

"Not nuts. Just eager to see something beautiful blossom from the ashes. I'm not taking a no for an answer, mister. Now go on and go see her. She's in the kitchen," She shuddered a little. "I'd get a move on before something explodes."

The former noble was never one to sigh, but this drew a long one out of him. There really was no way out of this, was there? Refusal just sounded cruel, even for him. Groaning from the effort, he forced his wretched legs to stand. It still felt like hot coals were wedged on the soles of his feet, with some pins and needles to boot.

He limped halfway across the monastery for what felt like a damn century before he reached the dining house. Curse those damn blisters and gashes. Breakfast was long over and there were no early birds for lunch, leaving the clean and orderly eatery empty. He braced himself on the bar table, panting. This was far too humiliating. A thousand marches in his lifetime and a stroll across town left him gasping? Maybe taking a break would be a good idea.

The moment he relaxed, he heard it.

Singing.

It wasn't loud and dominating, but soft and welcoming. Definitely not a diva. The lyrics caught him off guard though. Something about dinner? Crumbs and yums? A dry smile stretched across his cracked lips. How could he forget this easily?

Annette was stirring a stew, singing a song about just how delicious it would be. While whatever concoction in there smelled like a corpse in the sun, the soft tone of her voice lulled him away from it. He was entranced, unable to move or even want to move, feeling his brain melt like butter.

He watched the smile on her face, her light red hair framing her face perfectly, glowing like flames in the sunlight. Those beautiful blue eyes, bright with life and energy, snug orange and white dress, and pale skin, he couldn't get enough of it. He remembered all those nights during the war where she'd talk his ear off until she fell asleep on his shoulder, the way she alone could comfort him, the dinners they shared, the trouble he got her out of, this was the woman he loved-

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Felix asked his hand as he rubbed his face.

For a moment, her brow furrowed. "Why's it still burning? I turned the heat down and everything."

It was doing more than burning. The pot was coming to life, bouncing and hopping on and off the burner. The lid had to be latched on just to stay put.

Wait a moment…

Felix rushed with speed he didn't know he had, vaulting over the kitchen bar and scooping Annette off her feet. Before the ladle in her hand even hit the ground, Felix slid across a chopping table, rammed the back door open, and dove for cover behind a haystack. Not even a second later, the ground shook violently and a deafening crack reverberated through the kitchen. Felix exhaled sharply, feeling like all the air was trapped in his body for a moment there. That rocked him a little bit at least Annette was okay. A little shocked, but okay.

"What? What? Where did the kitchen go?" She squealed, peeking her head around. "Felix?" Instant blush, though goddess knows why. He was just simply carrying her. He did that all the time during the war.

"Can you exist in a kitchen without blowing it up?" He managed, breath shaken.

"Sorry," She mumbled, hanging her head a bit. That didn't last long though as that sunshine smile shined back on her face. "I forgot how fast you are. It's so cool, Felix!"

"It was nothing." He muttered. Try telling that to his burning ears. "You're not injured, are you?" He asked, easing her down to her feet.

"Nothing save my pride, or what's left of it," She moaned, wiping the sweat off her brow. "Sorry for all the trouble. That's just about all I'm good for these days."

"Enough of that Annette," Felix pressed, lying back against the hay, sliding down onto his rear. "You made a mistake. A very explosive mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. Keep that spirit up and try again later on."

"You sound just like Mercie," she said in a hollow tone. "Sorry, just ignore me. Oh! Someone left some beautiful flowers over her grave this morning."

"Were they the right flowers?"

Gradually, that smile returned to her face, brighter than ever. "You bet they were," She giggled. "And they were beautiful. Just the right color."

"Good. That's good." No one has to know…

"I really miss her," Annette admitted, sitting next to Felix. There was a downpour threatening to pour out of her eyes. It was all so sudden too. "Like, really miss her. It was always hard to imagine life without her, and now, it's all I can think about." She sniffed, wiping a few tears out of her eyes.

It was hard to describe what Felix felt when he felt her head lean on his shoulder. If he had to choose a word, it would have to be helpless. His hands curled into fists out of frustration.

Come on, you damn fool. Say something. Anything!

"I-"

"I already know, Felix. Don't weep for the dead, they can't hear you. Weep for the living. That's… your philosophy in a nutshell," She softly said, holding onto his arm. "I'm jealous, honestly. You're so… strong. You might be the strongest one there is at the moment. You can just push past anything without breaking a sweat. Where can I get that kind of strength? You think if I did, Mercie… Mercie would-"

"Being strong is the reason I feel dead."

Annette's dewy blue orbs snapped over to him, wide in shock. Even Felix was shocked by those words. Where did they even come from? Now that they were said, however, he continued on.

"When my mother died, my world fell apart. When my brother died, my innocence went with it, just like Dimitri's. After that, I never wanted to hurt again. I fought, I bled, I craved, I clawed my way up, surpassing even that of the professor, for so long. Suddenly, strength was all I knew. My strength killed my father in cold blood. My strength defeated Dimitri in combat, leaving him open for the Emperor's axe. My strength tore my family apart." He sank his head back against the hay wall, feeling his throat already laboring. He hadn't spoken this much in ages. "In the end, I've become a bigger boar than Dimitri ever was."

"Felix…" Her voice cracked when she said his name.

"I have nothing. I am nothing, but a sword without a master. In truth, with my sins, I don't deserve anything but to be put down. You don't want my strength, but… I'd do anything to have yours." He coiled his fingers around her hand, unbeknownst to himself. "You inspire, Annette. Your strength suits everyone. You are the finest woman I know, don't you forget that."

Tears continued to roll down her cheeks. Goddess, did he say something wrong? What should he-

A split second later, Annette's lips pressed against his own. One second, five seconds, ten seconds, his mind was a muddled murky mess of fog, trying to process it all. He could just about form the word 'soft' before she pulled back, cheeks flaming red. She opened her mouth to speak, but she could only squeal. Cute. It was cute. Goddess, it was so cute.

"Why did you-"

"Hush." She demanded, pressing a finger to his lips. "I-I… you…" She sucked in a deep breath. "You've always been my hero, Felix. Right from our Academy days. If you won't recognize how amazing you are, then I'll just have to remind you every day, just the same as you remind me." She propped herself up on her hands and promptly sat on his lap, shaking like a newborn deer. "We've been heartbroken for too long. Lets… Let's just be free for once."

Free. Yes, free sounds go good right about now. He closed his eyes, pulling her closer in his shaken grip. Annette giggled and kissed him again, wrapping her slender arms around his neck, where the pair would remain all the way past the afternoon bell.

Chapter Text

The next week drifted slowly and pleasantly, like a light breeze in the summer, despite the outrageously aggressive storm blowing down everything that wasn't nailed down. For whatever reason, Fodlan had decided to open up heavens gate and unleash an entire ocean over their heads. The rain had been incessant and brutal, battering against windows like thrown pebbles and the thunder had been horrendous. Although, that was just an excuse to get well acquainted with Felix's muscular arms.

There was nothing like cuddling in front of an open fire, under the comfort of a blanket, especially when your company towered over you. While the storm raged, Annette and Felix lazed the day away, with her nose deep in a book with some pink in her cheeks, and a silly grin on her face. While Felix was sitting on the couch, staring at the hefty rain beating the windows, and crackling flames in the fireplace, Annette had taken her rightful place on his lap, nestling her tiny body against him. Not even a second later after invading his personal space, his strong arms found their way around her body.

That taut, strong muscle, the smokey smell of firewood and cinders emanating off of him, it was something she never experienced before. Safe and secure, like the world could fall right on top of their heads and there wouldn't be a scratch on her. She could feel those hands in full through her thin nightdress, and she loved every second of it. It was a new side to Felix- something she never in a million years thought she'd see.

Who would've thought the mighty Meandering Sword of Fodlan, the strongest warrior the land had seen in a hundred years, was such a cuddle bug?

Her tiny body bobbed up and down every so often. Felix was incessantly bouncing his leg, his fingers drumming against her belly. She had to hold her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. "Getting anxious?" She asked softly. "The sky isn't gonna jump down and try to stab you, Felix. You can calm down."

"It's just quiet," Felix grunted in a low tone. "Way too quiet."

Annette shuddered. "Can you not talk like that? Jeez, you're making me all nervous too, like there's a ghost in my living room." She squawked.

"It's not the ghosts I worry about," Felix mumbled, digging his fingers into her nightdress, in an almost protective fashion. She could feel his heart hammering against her back. Poor guy. The night was still doing its usual damage to him. He had a hard time sleeping without nightmares, especially in the days of the war. Annette took her nose out of her book, twisted around, and held his pale cheek in her hand. Her smile made those worried lines slowly go away.

"Felix, we're not at war anymore. At ease, soldier," She giggled, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"It wasn't exactly over for me for a long time, Ann," He admitted, tightening his arms around her belly. The pink on her cheeks went full rose red. Pet names? Yes, please!

"What do you mean?"

"The second the war was over, it was right back into the fray for me," He explained. "Couldn't really go back home after killing the Duke and the rightful King, could I? It was one battlefield after another for ages. I can't remember the why and the where, it's all just one big blur of blood and steel."

Annette turned her full body this time and straddled him, just to get a better view of his reddening face. The arms around his neck were a nice touch as well. "How do you feel now?"

"Does… that matter?"

"Enough punishing yourself for the past, Felix. You're in the now, and you can still do some good with the time you have left," She firmly said. "So, how do you feel now?"

Slowly, but surely, he began to relax, tense shoulders slowly descending and his rigid back easing back into the fluffy couch. He swallowed, unable to look her in the eyes.

"... Warm."

Annette beamed. "Good!" She turned back around, nuzzling her back against his chest. "Now if you don't mind, I got a spell-book to finish reading. It'd be nice to learn how to cast a cleaning spell that won't make the brooms and mops duel to the death."

"Can that wait?"

"Huh? Wait for what?"

He mumbled something under his breath then, hunching over, like he was trying to find a pocket in space to curl up and hide inside. She again found herself holding back a giggle. He could be so cute sometimes.

"Did you say something?" She asked patiently, bouncing playfully on his lap to get his attention.

"Sing for me, will you, Ann?"

It was her turn to be embarrassed. Of all the things he could have asked of her, it would have to be one of the silly songs that squatted rent-free in the back of his head. After a while of humming and tapping her chin to draw it out, who said she had to make it easy for him, she smiled back at him. "Well…" She drawled, dragging the word out. "If that'll stop you from bouncing me all over the place, sure thing."

Which song would it be this time? The pot that grew legs and ran away? The bookcase with books that fly around on their own like birds? Whichever the case, she was just glad to see him smiling for a change.

/

"Can we do this somewhere else?" Felix grumbled.

"Huh? Why? The breeze is just right here," Caspar complained.

"The breeze can feel like heaven. I still don't like being gawked at," He swung his fire-axe down, splitting a log in two with ease, and earning another round of squeals from women watching on the sidelines.

The storm subsided in the morning, and the busy life of Garreg Mach began in full again, not missing a beat. Merchants rushed out to their stalls to make up for lost business, carpenters went back to crafting, and the masons were already patching up those leftover holes in the walls before the sun rose. Annette was up at the crack of dawn and already out and about, watching over everything being done. She was out the door before he could even steal a kiss like the devil he was, just adding to his sour mood.

In tandem with everyone else out and about, grinding themselves to the bone, Felix decided to throw his hat in the ring and work for a living too. That included swinging an axe and splitting logs with Caspar. Both of them had their shirts off because of the sweltering heat and humidity from the several days of rain. All the eyes on him made him shudder, and whenever he shooed one away, two more would take their place.

"Aw, come on, Felix," Caspar mused. "Nothing wrong with a few ladies staring at the goods, you know?"

Felix rolled his eyes. "The goods are fine without the country drooling at them."

In the grand scheme of things, there wasn't much to what they were doing. Just get the school back into ship shape so students can focus without worrying about a stray piece of rubble dropping on their heads while they study. Maybe prepare the place for a wedding while they were at it. It was simple, quiet, and drove Felix insane.

It took just now to realize it's been days since he's picked up a sword and fought- the longest period in the last two years that he hadn't plunged a sword in some unfortunate soldier's chest. The thought in itself was morbid. He couldn't stand the quiet because it made him think, and deep in his thoughts was the last place he wanted to be.

Each chop of firewood made his imagination go crazy, something that wasn't usual for him. Made him imagine all of those logs as every little piece of Annette's life he'd be ruining if he gave her the curse that was his love. Her future? Chopped in half. Her good name? Smeared. The truth was, he loved her so much, but had nothing to offer. He was a dead man walking- a zealot with no reason to keep on living other than taking lives.

Felix didn't deserve to be happy.

The last log Felix split shattered like glass into splinters as he brought the axe down harder than he meant to. Caspar barked, backing up, eyes wide. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He shouted.

"Sorry."

Caspar blinked. "Sorry?" The shock in his voice wasn't surprising. Felix wasn't exactly known for his apologies and humility, but now, he could barely raise his head. "You know, if you're feeling down, I can take you to a special spot just outta the monastery."

"Special spot?"

"Yup! It's got the best view of the sunset you've ever seen. I once took a guy there after we got in a fight in a bar, and after that, we bought each other drinks and laughed the rest of the night away!" He cheered hands on his hips and a grin broader than an open field.

"I can only imagine what else you did on that beach."

"What the- hey! None of that!" Caspar indignantly squawked. "What I'm trying to say is, a little bit of time with a friend will do you some good."

"I don't have any friends."

"'Course you do. Everyone's got friends."

"Clearly you haven't known me for very long. People don't live long enough to regret being my friend." Sylvain, Dimitri, Ingrid, and perhaps dozens more could vouch for that.

"You should hear how you sound right now. 'I've got no friends, I don't need'em'," He mimed in a mockingly gravely voice. A tick formed in Felix's jaw. Give this man a jester hat and he'd be right at home. "You sound like some epic hero straight out of some opera Dorothea would gush about. Why don't you take a chance and live a little? If you don't wanna go with me to the special spot, we could just get a drink?"

"You'd just love to see me stagger around like some drunk, wouldn't you?" Felix growled, hefting the axe above his head. "Besides, I need to be awake and alert at all times. A battle could arise at a moment's notice, and I don't want to trip onto my sword."

"Yeah, sure. What, is your ale gonna come to life and fire arrows at you?"

"I'll be the one firing arrows if you don't shut your mouth and chop."

"Come on, Felix, play nice," Two arms snaked around his chest, and tightly clutched around him. Instantly, his heart was in his throat and his back went ramrod straight. He tightly shut his eyes and took deep breaths. "Relax, Felix, it's only me, here to annoy you once again," The mystery wrangler giggled

It was Annette. He knew it was Annette. Only that ginger munchkin with a first degree in sorcery would hug a grouchy old beast in man's flesh like himself, especially out of the blue. After a few deep breaths, that warm, fluttery feeling in his chest came back. That kind of feeling told him everything was going to be fine.

Then it hit like a flaming stone hurled right out of a trebuchet just how soft and delicate those hands were on his chest.

His bare chest.

"W-what are you doing here?" Felix croaked, voice cracking like paper-thin glass.

"Just checking up on our resident stray cat," Annette cheered. Was she nuzzling her face into his back? Who was supposed to be the animal in this scenario? "I'm actually really happy to see you out and about. And talking to people, no less."

Felix raised a brow. "Who do you think I am? Bernadetta? I can go a few days without stabbing someone."

That grin on Capsar's face was agonizing to watch, like a puppeteer yanked the corners of his mouth up on strings, from ear to ear. That smug little blue worm's getting a little off the top if he kept that up. "Well, I can tell you two lovebirds are gonna be pretty busy. I'll leave you to it. See you in the tavern, buddy!" He jeered, dashing down the street, leaving his shirt, axe, and intelligence behind.

"Wait, I never agreed to- ugh, he's gone. Damn it," He growled. "Now I've got this to deal with. To hell with this. Consider it a rain check." Annette dug her nails into his chest a bit. "Ow, hey, what's the matter with you?"

"Why don't you go on out, Felix?" Annette suggested. "It'll be good for you. I mean, it's either that or camp out in my room again for hours on end."

Felix paled. Goddess above, not her too. "Annette, I'm not about to go drinking with that monkey with an axe."

"You're gonna have to find some way to occupy yourself while I'm out of town,"

"Out of town? Where're you heading out to? Let me go with you-"

Annette shook her head, nipping that notion right in the bud. "You know me well enough that I can handle myself. It's just a routine soldier check-up and inspection. Or, kind of routine. Honestly, some of our battalions have been vanishing lately in the forest just out of the Monastery. As the overseer, it's my job to know what's going on, and help my men."

That determination was the biggest boon and bane this angel in sheep wool had. Spirited enough to run into fire to save an entire village, and forget that fire burns her too. Still, it was impossible to say no to that smile, no matter how hard he tried. He bit his tongue to fight off scoffing. The finest blade in the country was tamed by a smile, a few songs, and a bit of sweets he never thought he'd like.

He took a deep breath and looked around. Amidst the carpenters and the masons, there were capable knights peppered among the masses, robust, experienced, and hardened from the war. The soldiers were still fresh from conflict and at the top of their game. That did little to stave off the worry. Annette is a brilliant woman, charismatic and inspirational. There wasn't a single soldier in the army that would speak ill of her. That was just it. Strong as she was, she was a leader, not a soldier. She could inspire an army to raise and survive, but she couldn't decimate entire battalions as he or Caspar could.

What if this threat was something else? What if-

All the thoughts in his head turned to mush as Annette kissed him right there. Thoughts of enemies? Of the dangers that Fodlan possessed? All replaced with every detail of her soft, full lips and just how beautifully they fit on his own.

She pulled away, cheeks red, and grinning ear to ear. "Does that convince you?"

"You did that on purpose."

"And Dorothea's right. It works like a charm," She giggled. "Don't worry. I'll take a battalion with me."

Felix heaved a sigh. "... Two."

"Three if that'll get you off my tail," She kissed him on the cheek. "Just sit tight." She let go of him and he immediately frowned, missing that warm embrace. It must've shown in his eyes because she crossed her arms and shifted her weight on one leg. Impatience in perfect form. "Felix, you can't just hang around me all day. As much as I love it, you need friends. You need a life that isn't me or well… slicing and dicing soldiers into confetti. Can you at least try? For me?"

There were a million good reasons why that was a terrible idea, but saying no to that face? It would've been easier to steal honey from a bear. Maybe asking for a third battalion to keep her safe wasn't out of the question. He shut his eyes, sucking air in through his nose. What in the hell is wrong with him?

He rubbed the slight stubble forming on his chin, taking a little longer than usual to think about it. "Fine. Fine, just promise me you'll be careful."

Annette beamed. "Please, you worry too much! It's gonna take more than some ghost to scare this gal- er…" She suddenly went pale. "I-It better be a bunch of thugs instead of a ghost. At least I can throw a lightning bolt at a thug."

Again with this ghost crap. "Run off before I change my mind and tail you," He ordered, turning his attention to his fire axe. "I've still got a few logs to chop. That storm ran us through half our firewood supply."

"Thanks, you're Majesty," Annette giggled, rolling her eyes and walking away.

Felix took a deep breath. Get along with others? How in the hell was he supposed to do that? He turned his head towards one of the random women that gawked at him. What now? Wave? Nod? Scratch his backside? What would Sylvain do?

His stomach dropped.

On second thought, what would Caspar do?

"Howdy, ladies." And off they went the second he croaked out that dopey nonsense. He sighed. This was going to be tricky.

/

"Ow! Darn it!" Annette screamed, yanking a part of her dress from the tree branch.

This was getting ridiculous.

No, it had gotten ridiculous the moment Annette's dress snagged on a stray tree branch and nearly split down the middle. Trudging through miles of prickly and noisy forest to find some soldiers that went awol was another just going off the deep end. Luckily, some female knights had a spare sewing kit and a fair amount of skill, otherwise, the battalion would have gotten a show no one asked for.

The situation in itself was strange. It started with one battalion the week prior, a relatively fresh group plucked out of the training grounds and into a den of meteors, split heads, and stray arrows. Young and green, but not out of their depths. They marched into Agular Forest on a regular patrol one day, around the borders of the former Faerghus Kingdom, and never came back. The only thing found were weapons and armor stretched out across a field, but no signs of blood or trauma. The armor wasn't even dented.

The second time, it was a flock of pegasus knights, or if you could call it a flock doing air-to-ground training in the forest. It was three of them, one hitting middle age yet apparently ages like fine wine, and two new hires that could barely stay on their pegasus, let alone fight on one. This one hit home for Annette- she knew the youngest girl there. Sophia Fairview. She was flighty, and scatterbrained just like her. A true connoisseur of romantic drivel in novel form as well. The pair would gush about it in their spare time. She had the cutest little laugh. And now she's been missing for well over a week, armor and clothes found in a bush several miles away from the training point.

It all broke Annette's heart to pieces, reading all those reports and seeing those faces simply not back home, where they should be. Even worse, she was helpless to do anything about it. She couldn't find a trace of them anywhere.

The cases carried on uninterrupted, with the final straw being a young noble being escorted by a knight through the forest to the town nearby in the Varley territory. She was only five. Both gone. That was it. Foot down. She took control of the investigation herself, with mixed results.

Felix is being high on that list.

It was almost like it was fate or some romantic dream. Thinking about it brought the silliest grin.

"Think of something funny, ma'am?" One of the female soldiers asked.

Annette blinked. "Oh, sorry. Must've been grinning like a drunkard there."

"It's best you keep your eyes on the field. If a boar were to rush out, the first one gored is the one with her head in the clouds," The soldier not-so-subtly chastised.

A boar? Is this close to Fhargus' borders? Sounds a bit far-fetched. Then again, soldiers after the war have been finicky. There was still combat high abound with nothing left to swing a sword at. The men were antsy, scrambling for things to occupy their minds that weren't smashing a wood and carpet pole to death, which explained why the rebuilding of the Monastery was lightning fast.

The search was quickly coming to nothing, much to her dismay. She wasn't a fool about tracking either. Ashe had taught her the basics. Check for signs that someone went forcibly through here. Impressions from tree bark from being brushed with armor or weapons, bushes and leaves stepped on or disturbed, and footprints if they were lucky. But after three hours, the forest looked untouched. Even the best tracker she had on staff couldn't even pick up a trace of anything human. And to be perfectly honest, the more she searched, the more her stomach dropped.

"Hey, Larisa, level with me,"

The soldier named Larisa raised her head, her bored lavender eyes half-open. "I'll try."

"Do you think they're dead?" Annette croaked in a solemn voice.

Larisa swallowed. "I'd prefer not to answer that, Ma'am."

Annette exhaled, head hanging down, not even realizing she was holding her breath. "I'm a big girl, I can take it."

Larisa pushed aside a brush of leaves, looking for a sign that nature had been disturbed, but it turned out to be nothing but squirrel tracks. "I think it's been too long. Most hostages without ransom would normally be dead by this point. We might just be searching for bones."

The very words Annette expected. It must have shown in her face because Larisa's hand rested on her shoulder a moment later. She smiled, the corners of her mouth quivering. "Don't worry about me. They've just… I really believe they have to be out here somewhere. I can't go back to their families with nothing."

"You're too kind, you know that?" Larisa complimented. "Most people would've given up by now."

"It's not part of me to give up anything. Why would I when there's so much I can do?" She sighed. "Although, I do wish we could find something other than trees and bugs." The bugs especially. She must have inhaled an entire colony of gnats by now. The after-storm humidity and scorching sun weren't making it any better. But this was for a good cause, she couldn't forget that.

"You and me both, ma'am. But it's best to be patient- hold." She raised her closed fist and immediately, the ten-strong battalion halted in place. She slowly opened her hand. The knights slowly drew their swords and lances with bated breath, all in sync.

"What do you see?" One of the knights asked.

"We aren't alone."

The air suddenly whistled and an arrow embedded itself in the tree trunk next to Larisa's head. The knights fell into formation immediately after, forming a loose square of bodies and armor, watching all sides. A ball of fire was already formed and ready to fire in Annette's hand, snapping her head back and forth, her heart spiking from the sudden rush of action.

"You are trespassing in Tepe's territory. Lower your weapons and remove your armor, or you will be executed." A bellowing voice from the trees demanded.

Tepe's territory? Who in Sothis' name is Tepes? She shook her head and turned in the direction of the voices. Nothing but a bushel of trees and greenery. All of which can be lit on fire easily. Annette again felt her stomach drop. She couldn't fire anything off without setting them on fire first. What a time to forget her trusty axe.

"Larisa-" Another arrow struck inches from her foot from a different direction this time. Her heart skipped a beat, body shaking from just how close she was to being crippled. Such deadly precision.

"Do not utter a single word. You are surrounded from all sides. Even if you escape from here, there is a force fifty-strong waiting for you in the clearing. Lower your weapons now and remove your armor now, or you will be shot."

There was something they could do. There had to be. But the shaking in Annette's legs and thudding of her heart told her otherwise. They were careless, stuffing themselves in the middle of a dense forest surrounded on all sides. Her mind wasn't in the right place. From the looks of Larisa's pale face, she couldn't think of anything either. She had men to bring home after all. If they wanted them dead, they'd have fired for their skulls by now.

With a sigh, she lowered her lance to the ground slowly, and stripped off her plate armor, leaving her in her shirt and leggings. The other soldiers followed suit, dropping their armor and weapons to the ground.

Annette lowered her head and dissipated the fire dancing between her fingertips.

The trees were abuzz with movement afterward. Hunters dressed in animal skins and wearing bits of foliage around their bodies dropped from the trees and out of the bushes one by one, and scooped up the weaponry. Another man, middle-aged, stout and balding, with a grizzled face and peppered shadow of a beard, walked out next to them, standing tall and respectful. Annette's breath grew heavy and shaky, feeling that rush of the fight or flight response sinking in. Shame she could do neither.

"Another set of knights for the collection?" The grizzled man stated with an approving nod. "And a good number of them this time. Oh, and an extra one too. Quite an alluring one too."

"Who are you?" Annette croaked, fists clenched.

The man's nose crinkled, looking a little miffed. "You don't know who I am?" He sighed. "It can't be helped. My reign hasn't extended to this part of the country yet." He flapped his animal-skin cloak like it was a royal cape. "Gustav von Tepes. The next ruler of this land."

Annette swallowed. Fantastic. Another crazy old man with delusions of grandeur. She'd say as such if a dozen arrows were aimed in her direction.

"Don't worry, we don't want to kill you. In fact, since you, someone of presumably noble birth by your clothing decided to tag along, we might have a viable ransom case." The old man said, pinching his chin.

Ransom? Her face went pale, but she couldn't resist that spark of hope. "You mean you took the other soldiers too?"

Gustav grinned. "That I did. Took good care of them. I need them all cleaned up for the deal, of course. But enough of that. We don't have time for formalities." He turned to his men. "Bind and gag them all. Tomorrow, we march for Garreg Mach with our many prisoners. And then… we take over."

Chapter Text

"This is ridiculous."

"It's food for the soul."

"Then my soul needs a diet."

Dorothea snickered, nearly dropping her fishing pole into the ice-cold lake. "I never took you for a joker, Felix."

"Hmph," Felix grunted back, staring at the crystal clear water, wandering just how much longer it will take to lose his mind. Sitting at a lake for hours on end in silence, waiting for a braindead fish to nibble on something they know full well is a tasty death trap was someone's idea of fun? Fishing was a patient man's game, and Felix was anything but patient. For a man so used to being in the thick of the action, being mobile at all hours of the day, who never really learned to sit still even into adulthood, he was already at his wit's end.

But of course, Dorothea, the social butterfly she was, chose not to leave him alone, and being a man of his word, he obliged. Annette wanted him to be more social, so by the goddess, he'd make that happen. But this? Forget being boring, this was downright torture. How long would it be until his reflection jumped out of that water and split him in half for even daring to agree to this?

"Have you caught anything yet?" She asked.

"Not even a nibble," He grumbled.

"You probably scared them all away with that mug of yours," She giggled, nudging him with her elbow.

Felix groaned. "Fantastic. I can take my leave them."

"Hold your horses, we've still got a lot of time on our hands before the sun goes down!" She sang, reaching over and adjusting the fishing rod in his hands. How long had he been holding this thing now? It felt like it was glued to his hand at this point. "We've still got some coy, some trout, and maybe a tuna if we're lucky!"

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound like an expert on this subject."

"Mm, haven't caught a fish a day in my life, but it sounds fun."

He started in the open water. It was so still. Even the ripples from their lines vanished the second they started. "Well, are you having fun?"

"Not even a little," She admitted with a sigh. "I thought you were."

"I'd much rather be shoveling manure out of the stables,"

Dorothea's shoulders sank. The dancer looked more deflated than he thought she'd be. He couldn't help but feel bad. "Sorry. I thought you'd be interested in this kind of thing."

"You thought a swordsman would be interested in fishing?"

"It's your whole motif! The stoic, hardened warrior settling down for a peaceful time on the shore with nothing but his fishing rod? It's like something out of a storybook!" She cheered.

"You need to stop putting so much stock in children's books, Dorothea," He mumbled, watching the line drift back and forth like it would someone sprout wings and fly away. His imagination was starting to run wild, he was so bored.

Felix looked up at the sky. It was well past sundown, with what was left of that purple glow on the clouds vanishing over the horizon. His foot tapped relentlessly on the ground. "Seven hours, Annette. Seven hours." He swore, the minute that woman came through that gate, he'd raise some holy hell.

Dorothea's eyes soothed with concern. "Please ease up, Felix. I'm sure you can let her out of your sight for a few hours. She can take care of herself."

"Trust me, I am well aware. I've spent more time side by side with her on the battlefield to know her inside and out,"

Dorothea smirked. "And off the battlefield as well."

"Do you have any inhibitions whatsoever?" Felix squawked, cheeks warming up.

"Not when there is entertainment to be had," She giggled. "It's really sweet. You're really taking so much concern for her."

Felix crossed his arms. What's with everyone thinking he was some kind of heartless monster that cared for no one? On the other hand, not too long ago, that wouldn't have been far off. It all happened so suddenly. Suddenly, he was put to work, rebuilding something sacred that he destroyed once upon a time.

"She's done so much for me. It's only natural for me to show gratitude, right?" Felix managed, anxiously drumming his fingers against his bicep. "That's beside the point. Annette's been gone too long. I know that forest inside and out at this point."

Dorothea's soft hand rested on his shoulder. "As I said, Annette's a big girl. I'm sure the most that has happened is she got lost."

Lost, huh? That wasn't out of the realm of plausibility. The peppy redhead was as brilliant as she was utterly clumsy. "She could be…" He admitted.

"There you go," Dorothea cheered. "And if she doesn't come back within a couple more hours, I'll send out a search party and grab little red riding hood out of the forest before she lights it on fire. Sound good?" Felix nodded. "Good boy. Now how about we go back to the Monastery and have some tea?"

Tea from Dorothea? It was more sewage than tea, with how many crushed leaves she crammed in there. He decided to spare her the gory details. "Thanks, but no thanks. You go on ahead. I'll catch up."

"Suit yourself." She mounted her horse and galloped across the dirt trail toward the Monastery.

Felix sighed, laying down on the grass with his fingers netted behind his head. There was nothing to worry about, was there? It was a simple patrol. A long-winded patrol, but a patrol nonetheless. He should have more faith in her- no, he did have more faith in her. That didn't stop that filling well of anxiety in his chest.

Forest patrols never took this long, even during the war. What was that woman doing out there? Trying to inspire the local wildlife to build for them? As much as it would be interesting to see a deer working a hammer and chisel, coming home first would be preferred. What if a bear had attacked them? Or worse yet, a demonic beast? It wasn't a large battalion, even by standard patrol standards, so a fight with a demon like that would be an outright slaughter. That monster would show no mercy, mangling her corpse like a dog's favorite worn toy-

He fought off the urge to vomit, trying to think of anything else but that. Anything. Absolutely anything but imagining a scene like that. He braced himself against the cathedral wall, taking deep breaths, calming down the surge of anxiety in his heart. It slowly became easier to focus on his anger rather than his fear.

"Just where are you," He grumbled to himself.

His ears pricked suddenly. He heard the clip-clopping of horse hooves close by, drifting off the trail and towards him. About three of them. He sat up, turning his head, eyes narrowed. There were three horsemen, draped in mottled cloaks. The burliest one in the center removed his hood.

Felix grimaced- that was a face only a mother could love. The head was disproportioned, with one eye as big as a croquet ball, with the other almost like a pea in comparison. His nose was jagged and scarred and his thin mouth was permanently upturned into a snarl. He'd have some pity for him if he wasn't about to be robbed.

"You'd better be lost," Felix growled, standing up, and brushing the dirt off his trousers.

"Drop your valuables on the ground, and walk away," The centermost one asked.

Well, at least he's straightforward about it. Too many bandits try to be philosophers about it. "Forget it. The most you'll get out of me is pocket lint." Oh, how one of the wealthiest nobles among nobles has fallen. From riches to rags.

He drew his sword, brandishing it at Felix. "Then it's the clothes off your back."

"As if you could be any more desperate," He sighed. "Listen up, no amount of riches I could pull from these pockets could fix what is wrong with your face, so save your necks and just keep riding."

The trio of fools turned to each other and guffawed. For some reason, listening to them reminded Felix of a group of donkeys getting their tails stepped on all at once. "The fisherman thinks he's a knight! That's a lark!"

"Are you going to rob me, or not?" Felix demanded, losing his patience. "Because I'm not in the mood to socialize with thugs who look like they came out of a bear's ass."

Slowly, their laughter died and they glared daggers at him. "Forget it, just take him with the rest. Gustav will be happy to have another hostage against the Church."

Felix raised a brow. "Hostage against who?"

"What, you thought those soldiers just up and dropped off the face of the earth? How stupid can you be?"

"You don't need to know now," The leader said, dropping from his horse, and unhooking his rusty axe from his hip. "Just stand still if you want to keep your hands-"

The neanderthal couldn't finish his sentence before Felix lunged forward and threw his fist into his already very crooked nose. His head snapped back, blood spurting into the air. Felix's shortsword was in hand in a split second. He struck precisely between the pommel and the blade of the axe, and yanked the man forward with all of his might, punching in the nose as he did. The bandit nearly did a full backflip as he fell backward, his crooked nose looking more like a crushed cherry.

The other bandits were stunned, caught aghast, unable to reach their weapons before Felix came at them. He reversed his blade and flung it like a javelin straight into the thigh of the closest bandit. The bandit couldn't even howl in pain before Felix took a running start and kneed in him the face. The last one was still on his horse. Felix took a running leap, headbutting the horseman, and forcing all of his weight on him, dropping them both off the horse. They both hit the ground, knocking all the air out of the bandit's chest and knocking him clean out.

"Agh! Ah, goddess!" The leader shrieked, rolling on the ground, holding his nose. "What did you do?"

"I fixed your face. Don't you like it?" Felix snarked, standing over him. "Now… what's this about a camp? And don't waste my time. I get creative when I'm in a hurry."

/

It was nearing sundown in Gustav's camp. Around thirty or so men and women stripped of armor and weaponry, hands and feet bound, waiting with arched backs and bulging eyes in anticipation. Annette was no different, hands clenched together into fists, trying to will a ball of fire into her hands, but no such luck. The rough, wooden wagon seats were more uncomfortable than the ropes rubbing her flesh raw.

Of course, any pocket army worth their salt had someone with a proficiency for white magic. The silence spell placed on her was more agitating than the coarse rope that bound her wrists together. Magic was akin to a third limb to her- something too impactful and essential to living without. Now without it, she was helpless, watching the row of men on horseback in line trot around on patrol, bows in hand for anyone brave enough to try and roll off to escape.

Annette looked up at Larisa, who was sitting adjacent to her. She stood up proud, head held high, eyes full of fire and narrowed. Those thugs would have to find out the hard way it was impossible to break her spirit. Annette tried to communicate, but could only let out feeble grunts through the cloth tied between her lips. Larisa tried scraping her gag off by rubbing her cheek against her shoulder, but it was too tight. There truly was nothing to do but wait and be thankful none of them had been killed yet.

"Are you the leader of this operation?"

Annette's head snapped around, looking back at the grizzled older man, who was grinning ear to ear. If only she could light the thief on fire with her eyes. Perhaps if she glared at him enough, he just might. The dingy leader shrugged. "A simple nod would do."

She just stared. What kind of leader would she be if she gave him the satisfaction of acknowledgment? Then again, what kind of leader would put an entire battalion in shackles barely a mile away from home?

He sighed. "I can't tell if this is strength or insolence. It's hard to tell with kids these days," He roughly yanked the rag from her lips and leaned close enough for her to smell his rotten breath. "You aren't brave for keeping that mouth shut, you know. Just prolonging the inevitable and wasting my time." Wasting time? Sounded fun. Instead of focusing on just how disgusting that mug looked, she gazed around the camp.

It wasn't poorly built, by any means. The bandits were well armed, with hodgepodge armor from different parts of the country. Very well maintained, yet still mixed nonetheless. The centermost tent was lavish, adorned with jewels and ornaments, and three times bigger than the majority of the others. Perhaps more. The others were basic at best, and tawdry at worst. They all looked well-fed, strangely organized, and disciplined. Former soldiers, perhaps?

From how rich the massive tent in the center, how expensive and glistening Gustav's armor looked, and just how well together he looked in general, there was a clear dissonance between the leader and his men. He probably thought he stood above them, like royalty, and not like a general or leader. To be an effective leader, you have to be one of your crew first. It was just leader 101. If she wasn't gagged for all that time, she could have taken advantage of it.

Rough fingers gripped her cheeks and twisted her head straight again, in Gustav's direction. "What do you want?" Annette demanded, already sick of looking at him.

"I want a peaceful end to all of this so it doesn't get bloody," Gustav answered softly. "I'm about to place an insurrection on Garreg Mach itself and take it over. Make my name known to all that live in Breath in the country. And the more soldiers I have for my cause, the better."

She blinked. "You're planning on marching up to Garreg Mach, with about fifty hostages, and just demand their surrender? You're kidding me." She didn't hide how incredulous she sounded. That plan couldn't be crazier if it tried. "You do know they'd rather kill us than save us, right?"

"Then that blood will be on Edelgard's hand. Think about it," He mused, taking so much pride in his words that his head could be seen for miles. "The moment they refuse, a massacre will occur of unprecedented proportions. Most of them being former Kingdom soldiers. Citizens. Perhaps more. Everyone on that mountain will die, and Edelgard will have sent no aid. Because you and I both know she's stretched thin as is."

"You're insane," She rasped, jaw going slack. This man was about to go on a slaughter with a smile on his face.

"No, just determined. After hearing this, that the citizens and former soldiers of the kingdom, and perhaps even Alliance, were attacked and slaughtered without aid or help, the pressure on that bitch will be staggering. A rebellion will mount up with me at the helm. Little by little, this country will be mine. And it all starts with Garreg Mach."

The number of logical leaps this man took was staggering. How he made it this far into the game was a mystery to her. She looked around at the men again, who were casually going about their business, chopping wood, sharpening swords, casually chatting it up, remembering that they were following a madman. She swallowed, her throat dry, trying to fight off the impending dread.

"Do you know how crazy this all sounds?"

"So are all great plans, but don't worry. They all fall into place once I follow through with things," He brought the rag back up over her mouth, stifling her before she could retort. "Besides, I have divine power on my side." He reached by his feet and pulled a spear into his hands.

Annette's eyes gaped. The Lance of Luin.

She howled, and thrashed, trying to burst through the ropes as fast as possible. Anything to tell him just what fresh hell he was walking into, but whatever she said couldn't be made out. Gustav only smirked. "Caught your interest? Good. I hope you enjoy the show. We ride out in the morning."

Chapter Text

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare, you damn- Agh!"

Too late. The horse had already bucked hard enough to throw Felix far into the air, arms flailing. He landed with the grace of a starfish, landing spread-eagle, flat on his face in the grass.

"Stupid hairy donkey!" He roared with a mouthful of dirt. "Mark my words, you'll be in my next meat pie!" The horse sputtered back, practically spitting in his face. Before Felix could draw his sword to start carving his dinner, the horse galloped in the opposite direction, leaving behind a patty or two. "And Ingrid wondered why I never rode those damn things."

Then again, what could he expect from a stolen horse? It did the job well enough. The camp he was looking for was downhill, just shy from the cliffside, down a rocky plain, with a tight-knit group of trees surrounding it. He spat the last bits of grass out of his mouth and took out a small scope, peering over the camp.

"Where are you fools…" He mumbled under his breath.

It was surreal. When was the last time he'd done a rescue mission like this? Most of the paid jobs under his belt involved cutting some heads off. He was almost at a loss for what to do first.

He spotted the prisoners quickly. They were gathered up on wagons, bound and gagged, stripped of weaponry and armor. It was like they were put on display for the camp to gawk and laugh at. In the farthest wagon towards the gate, Annette was sat with her back hunched and brows knit, probably planning something in the brilliant head of hers.

"Sit tight. I've got you."

Raids on enemy bases were a mercenary's bread and butter. You couldn't call yourself a sellsword without having stamped your way through one or two bandit camps or enemy barracks. The trouble was, it was typically an organized effort. It would cost a full battalion for a frontal assault, or a marginally skilled recon team that wore stealth like well-maintained uniform that could poison their ale or slit their throats in their sleep. It took time, patience, and the effort of a crew.

All of which Felix had none of.

At least there were a few aspects in his favor. The base itself was a general's worst nightmare- out in the open, lacking outward defense pillories and enough manpower to manage a place this big. It wasn't made with anyone with ample experience either, clearly. The tents were randomly dotted without rhyme or reason, and some of the bandits were lounging inside them, not caring a lick about defense. From how lax and leisurely the bandits walked around, rested against the tents, and played with their weapons, there was a general sense of arrogance.

There was an entrance, poorly crafted from some wooden timbers, and a fairly trodden dirt path. In front were a couple of dozing guards, with several tents nearly touching each other and poorly put together, gathered in a circle near a bonfire. More bandits were drinking themselves silly with mead. Past that was a rock wall with the prisoner wagons just overhead. The path ahead was so clear.

The scales were tipping in Felix's favor.

There was also the fact that bandits were bandits. Crude as that sounded, they were still untrained, undisciplined, knuckle-dragging brutes that were usually a mix between malnourished or missing something up there in that noggin. Some were deserters from war, using bits and pieces of standard issue arms that they kept, others were simply thieves that used swords and axes mainly for intimidation. Few had any standard training that didn't come from a boot camp or offshoot of watching someone else. He could take down five on his own at once, maybe more if he was generous, but a camp of more than thirty?

"What would you do now, Dimitri?" He asked.

"I would rain bloody hell on them," A disembodied voice answered.

Felix jumped, his heart skipping a beat, but he stayed quiet. "And here I thought you'd finally gone away."

"We can't all be so lucky, I'm afraid."

Felix could feel it. That sickenly hot breath on the back of his neck. The scratching at his torn cloak. It was too quick to assume the ghosts had gone away. Of course, they would plague him when he was all alone again. "What do you want?"

"Wasn't my intent simple enough to understand?" Dimitri stated in his chillingly quiet and calm tone. "I want you to always remember everything. All the families you tore apart, all the blood your hands are bathed in."

"Those men made their decisions to fight," Felix reasoned. "You know better than I that we don't have a choice in this regard."

"And yet you still judged me, right to the grave. What does this say about you, Felix?"

Felix swallowed, his heart pounding against his ribcage. "Leave me, Dimitri. Please. I've made up with my demons. I'm happier now. Can't you see that?"

"Your off to go slaughter a camp of desperate, starving men and you want me to leave you be? If only I had known you were a hypocrite," Dimitri retorted, his voice steadily rippling through Felix's head. "Why? Why couldn't you die with the rest of us? Why couldn't you die after taking Sylvain's life, or Ingrids? Or mine?"

"... I don't know."

During the war, the world became a blur of blood and contracts. The kingdom's ideals rivaled his, so he fought against them- against his own family. It was supposed to be as simple as that. No personal attachments, no guilt, nothing lasting. Just one ideal against another.

Then he took his father's life.

And then his best friend.

And his lover.

And soon, the one childhood friend that haunts his dreams every waking moment.

Felix's ideal had become his hell. The ghosts were right. What right did he have to keep going? Why didn't any of those wars or contracts not kill him yet? Why hadn't…

And then he remembered her face.

"I don't deserve pity," Felix said suddenly. "I don't. I know what I am, and what I've done, and no matter how much I want to, I can't take it back."

"Then you admit-"

"But I won't die. Not here," He pressed, his voice gaining some of its edge back. "I don't have any real ideal worth fighting for anymore, but… if I can keep her smile, that… that is something worth living for."

The headless, ethereal corpse of Dimitri grabbed his shoulder tightly. "You don't deserve to live. You don't! Don't even pretend you do!"

"I won't. But they do," Felix stood up and drew his sword. "Enough wallowing in self-pity. Haunt me if you want, you damn fiend. As long as they still breathe… so will I. Now get the hell out of my way." He ran through the spirit as it collapsed to dust the moment they made contact. He took off in a mad dash towards the camp in reckless abandon, ready for whatever came.

/

The gate was practically wide open. The two guards at the post were lying back against a rock, not taking any stock of the raging blue whirlwind coming their way. When one of them looked up, Felix had already flung a dagger into his chest. His breath caught in his throat, unable to scream for help as he collapsed to the ground. The other bandit gawked a moment too long and it cost him his life. Felix, in a burst of speed, cut open his throat and kept on speeding past, the man losing his life long before he fell to the ground.

Four bandits were gathered around the campfire close to the gate, laughing and jeering with mugs of mead in their hands. Close to it were five tents with several sleeping marauders inside, all unaware of what was going on.

The first man lost his head to a sudden glint of silver. Before the man had hit the ground, Felix yanked the rapier out of his scabbard and thrust it into the neck of another bandit. The final two were faster to react than the rest, all brandishing their axes. Another was thrashing in his sleeping bag, hastily reaching for a hatchet.

There was a pause. The three men stared tensely at each other, each daring the other to make the first move.

"Well?" Felix challenged. "What's the matter? Lost your nerve?"

"S-Somebody go up and kill him!" The bandit fighting against his sleeping bag stuttered loudly.

"You could try and not sound like some petulant child-" Felix suddenly heard something whistle quickly through the air behind him. He darted away, feeling something rip through the clothing on his thigh and a horrid stinging pain. An arrow stuck itself onto the grass next to him.

The thugs wasted no time, rushing him at once with axes, nearly running into each other. Felix thrust his blade deep into the thigh of the right-facing bandit, making him howl in pain. With the rapier in his other hand, he flung to blade in the direction of the archer behind him. It hit its mark. The archer went still and fell to the ground with the rapier sticking from his chest.

The second thug shoved his fallen partner aside and took a swing at Felix. His body ducked on its own, purely on instinct. An axe sailed mere inches from his head, shearing a couple of hairs off his head. He ducked under the messy swing, stole his sword back from the man's corpse, and cut his chest open, kicking him down into a bloody heap.

There wasn't even a moment's break. A mage hidden behind the falling corpse already had a raging ball of fire in his hands and arched his arm back. Felix thought fast, picking up one of the corpses and yanking it up to shield him.

The blast hit with a sharp boom and a wave of heat. He was blasted off his feet, and fell on his back a distance away, feeling the wind taken out of him. "Damn mages," He rasped, scrambling to his feet.

The mage was already preparing another ball of fire between his hands. Felix crouched, feeling the muscles in his leg bulge. With one kick off the ground, he closed the distance between the two and sliced him across the chest, ending up behind him. The mage stopped for a moment, looking down in disbelief at his fresh wound before collapsing to the ground, dead as a doornail.

Felix wasted no time, scampering up the rock wall, gripping onto the wheel of the wagon for leverage, and hoisting himself up. The prisoners all turned and looked at him in silent awe, confusion, and even some disgust, but the only gaze he paid close attention to was Annette's utter relief and warmth. He vaulted onto the wagon and held her cheeks in his hands softly.

Her hair was messy and tangled on one side, and there was a streak of dirt on her cheek, but otherwise, she was fine. Still, seeing her in such a state made Felix's blood boil.

"I should've asked the entire army to escort you," He quietly seethed, easing the gag out of her mouth.

"I have it all under control," Annette said with a slightly goofy smile.

"Clearly," He cut her bindings quickly. "Gather anyone who can fight. We're taking this base over."

"Most of us have silence spells on us. I couldn't conjure a candlelight if I tried right now," Annette said, working her fingers together to demonstrate. "And they were smart enough to leave our weapons and armor scattered around the forest."

Felix's shoulders tensed. "I'm on my own this time?"

"I…" Annette's head hung low. The poor girl looked so deflated, she may as well have sunk through the cracks of the wooden wagon. "I'm sorry. I thought I had my act together after the war, but I can't even patrol right. I'm still useless-"

"Call yourself useless again, and I will leave you on this wagon," Felix interrupted. "I refuse to hear it, you understand? I can't stand it when someone undermines how brilliant they are. Now just free the rest of these people, and we can talk about this later."

Annette gazed at him with wide eyes. "Felix…"

"Felix what?" He asked impatiently.

"Your arm…"

"My… oh," That fireball hit harder than he thought. The cadaver took some of the residual blast, but didn't nullify it. The tatters of his blue riding cloak he'd had since the war had someone become even more of a wreck, with the left side of the cape burned away, and his entire left arm left bare. The skin on his broad shoulder was an ugly red and stung horribly now that he noticed it.

"You're not inspiring confidence in me, Felix," She said quietly, reaching over and holding his hand. "We can just leave with everyone else here. Please, this isn't some trial or a punishment."

"If you don't want that madman following us, or raising that poor excuse for an army, it may be better if I cut this weed out by the roots," Felix reasoned. "Focus on getting everyone out of here, I'll focus on taking that bastard's head off."

"He has the Luin, Felix!"

"The…" Felix's voice failed him.

One of the most powerful and ancient lances in the world was in the hands of a zealot. Even worse, it had to be her lance. He'd seen that beast tear apart many battlefields with ease, and this time, he didn't have the Fraldarious shield, Aegis to aid him. His legs shook, but this time, it was from anticipation. He couldn't deny the thrill of rivaling a sacred crest weapon with just his will, strength, and a sword.

Annette had that fierce look in her eyes again. Stubborn. Indomitable. Normally, those eyes would be the death of Felix's will, but now was not the time to be weak. He stared back at her with equal determination, and little by little, she faltered. "Be careful," She ordered.

He nodded and bounced out of the wagon, and sprinted toward the rest of the camp.

The commotion at the gate hadn't reached the ears of anyone else in the camp. The thug in that guard tower didn't even see him coming. Half of them must've been mead-sodden, and barely awake. An opportunity arises in mysterious ways.

Felix rounded the corner towards the guard post first and drew his sword. Both hands gripped the hilt, biceps, and forearms suddenly bulging with power. He grit his teeth, and reared the sword back, the blue crest of Fraldarious blazing at his back. With a roar, he struck at the thick wooden mast keeping the guard post standing.

The post wasn't cut- it exploded into splinters upon impact and blasted the entirety of the post a foot higher into the air. It toppled like a tree, crashing down on its side, flinging both the unfortunate bandits flailing in the air and landing like ragdolls on the rocks, unmoving.

Arrows were sliced out of the air in flicks of silver. He ducked and rolled under one and ran through the chest of one of the archers with his sword. Felix dipped into what he was, or rather, what he used to be- a demon with a blade. Efficient. Decisive. Professional. He cut the men down one by one in a mad, blurry rush, even snatching an arrow out of the air once and stabbing it into the chest of a very unlucky thug. In seconds, ten men armed men turned into nine corpses, and one Meandering Sword, heavily breathing with a bloody blade.

He took a moment to look at the tatters of his cloak and sighed.

"I shouldn't have slacked off on those magic lectures," He grumbled to himself, brushing off the smolders off his damaged cloak.

"It's a shame you'll never get the chance, son."

At last, the snake slithered out of its den. Gustav von Tepes came out of his lavishly embroidered, sickeningly rich tent, draped with the skin of a bear he knew for a fact he didn't kill himself. Despite the bloody heap at his feet and the tents lit ablaze, he still had that frustratingly smug smile on his face.

"You look oddly flippant for a dead man," Felix growled, brandishing his sword.

"And you look ghastly so ghastly for an apparent legend," He pointed out. "Have you lost your edge?"

Felix's legs shook, his feet burning with pain. No wonder he was slower than usual. The wounds and fatigue from nearly walking himself to death hadn't faded away. Still, he could be down an arm and take this flabby oaf down.

Gustav reached to his back and pulled the Luin from its holder. It didn't blaze to life like what would typically happen with a Hero's Relic. It was quite disappointing.

"So you don't have a crest?"

Gustav's nose crinkled in displeasure. "Not all of us can have gifts given to us from birth. Some of us have to work and grind and-"

"-And kick and scream, how many times do people expect me to listen to this drivel?" Felix finished impatiently. "I don't think you understand just how often I hear this nonsense. Do you think for a moment my skills and abilities were just given? You don't think I worked hard for what I have? Stop using how you were born as an excuse for your pitiful existence."

The old man's teeth ground together. "You… you-"

"Shut up, and fight. I need to take Luin back. It doesn't belong to you…"

It belong to Ingrid, and by the goddess, he was not going to let this fool besmirch it.

The pair squared off carefully, circling each other like lions locked in a cage. Gustav brandished his weapon mockingly, jabbing in his direction, taunting him. Felix stood evenly, unphased, amber eyes inspecting every misstep and opening Gustav had.

The first jab was sudden and close enough to clip the tip of Felix's right ear. Another thrust to his chest was parried. The third and fourth were sluggish enough for Felix to side-step each. Felix would've caught the last of a surge of pain in his foot that didn't briefly make him stumble.

Gustav was no soldier- still a bandit through and through. He fought like a drunken man trying to kill a fleeing rabbit, not a battle-hardened warrior who could kill in the blink of an eye.

Felix pressed his foot forward suddenly, hooked his blade against the base of the spear to knock it aside, and thrust the blade directly for the old man's heart. He dodged suddenly, the tip of Felix's sword just grazing his cheekbone. All traces of that smug grin were gone at that point.

Still, Felix's blade rocked and vibrated. The heat radiating from Luin was intense. Even in the hands of some commoner without any crest to their name, the weapon was still powerful and could threaten to shatter his own if he kept up those stunts.

"Where did you learn to fight? The circus?" Felix sniped.

"Don't be so smug, we're just getting started," Gustav growled.

"Try saying that when you're not dancing like a jester."

The pair confronted each other again, glaring daggers, although some of Gustav's fire had been dampened. There was a spike of fear and desperation in his eyes, and it showed. He swiped, jabbed, and stabbed more aggressively, not aiming so much as flailing. Defense? There was none. The grizzled old fool was as open as the seas.

Through the jabs, Felix nicked the side of his neck, grazed his side, scratched his inner thigh, and cut his jawline. Each slice contorted the bandit's face more and more into that of despair. All of that noble flare and nerve was gone, and he reverted to who he truly was- a scared little man whose only true victory was against unarmed civilians.

Felix swung his blade upwards and knocked the spear's shaft up into the air. Using that same momentum, he bashed the hilt of his nose against the older man's nose. He howled in pain and fell backward, all dignity forgotten, and holding a hand over his nose. Felix placed the tip of his sword at Gustav's throat, and glowered.

Gustav was seething with rage, glaring at Felix with gritted teeth and spittle flying from his mouth with every shaky breath. "You… you-"

"Let it go, Gustav," Felix demanded. "Just let it go. You're not a king or a god. Just a man with a big mouth."

"I'll kill you! I swear, I'll kill you!"

"Perhaps if you hold still long enough, I can make that make that mouth bigger."

"Just wait! With this lance, I'll-" Whatever he was about to say was lost in a sickening gurgle.

"For once in your damn life, shut up," Felix pressed his sword deeper into his neck and yanked it back out. Gustav helplessly reached towards him, teeth grit hard enough to chip themselves, and then, he was limp, the ghost of his last threat still on his face.

/

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of activity. Getting everyone back to the monastery was a quick affair- everyone was antsy and full of energy, just wanting to go home. The church welcomed everyone back with open arms. Families were overjoyed to have their soldiers return home, with many wives, husbands, and children rushing across the bridge to throw their arms around them and cry.

Crossing that bridge, Felix held his head down, trying to draw as little attention as possible to him, but several of them slapped his back and praised him. Called him a hero. He wanted to rebuke it. To say that label simply didn't belong to him, but every time he tried, Annette squeezed his hand harder.

Oh well. Maybe for one day, he can take a little praise, no matter how much it made his ears burn. Just today.

Naturally, a celebration ensued. All construction efforts went from raising the church to its former glory to raising banners and cooking meals for everyone. While Felix had ducked out, the rest had danced and sung, having a little fun after the danger they were in. Felix, however, had a promise to keep, and as benign as it was, he was going to keep it.

Finding a tavern in the monastery was like finding a barbarian in a book club. This was a holy ground, built for prayer, self-reflection, and cleansing from sin, as far as the religion goes, not for drunkards sloshing their drinks around like toddlers holding a glass of water. Half of the drink ended up on the floor, rather than down anyone's throat. Men howled songs, arms around each other shoulders, singing until their faces were red, acting like fools this early into the afternoon. What Felix wouldn't give to slap some sense into them for being this intoxicated while on duty.

The tavern itself was comfortable at least. It shared the same warm, safe glow that the rest of the monastery shared. The lanterns cast a calm, orange glow throughout the otherwise dim space, with the heat of the bonfire in the middle of the room surrounding them in a warm blanket of heat. The wooden benches and chairs were more enjoyable than they appeared, and the drinks were just fine- nothing too fancy for a place like this. Now if only Felix could enjoy it without all the banshees shrieking around the place.

Felix sat alone at the bar table, with a mug full of mead that hasn't been touched, passing the time by until Caspar, who was chatting it up with another random soldier, could permit him to leave. He eyed a few of the other soldiers, racking his brain to find something to conversate about, but it ran blank. The only thing he could think of was training and swordplay, something an off-duty soldier couldn't care less about.

He sighed. He needed a hobby.

What were these men drinking at this time of day? It was a time after the war, sure, but castles need their vanguard to be able to walk in a straight line. The defenses of this place were getting far too lax. And they called him the uptight one. He stood up to leave, but a heavy arm in heavier armor rested on his shoulder and brought him back down. His head snapped in the perpetrator's direction and he saw Caspar, grinning ear to ear.

"Oh no you don't," Caspar cheered. "You're sticking around and you're gonna like it."

"Caspar, the only thing I'm sticking on is this damned table," Felix grumbled, throwing a filthy look at him. If only those fools wouldn't splash their drinks, filled with honey mind you, all over the place. The tavern was becoming a sticky death trap.

"Oh c'mon, that's half the fun! What's life without a little mess now and again?"

"A life not covered by alcohol and assholes," He set his mug down and stood up from his stool. "Enough of this. If you need me, find me in the training grounds."

"Felix, don't be like that. After all, you promised Annette-"

"I promised to come in with you. Not to drink, nor fraternize, nor wail like a bull with its tail bitten. There are a million more productive things I could be doing right now"

"Like what?"

"Like…" Felix's trailed off, mouth hung open a little.

"Like?" Caspar pressed, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Like swinging my sword, for one,"

Caspar's brow furrowed. "That's it? Just swinging that thing around? Hey, I'm all for a little extra training- I wouldn't be where I am without it. But what are you gonna do without it?"

"A warrior needs to continually keep his blade sharp and his wit sharper, Caspar," Felix scolded. "If you've lost touch with that, then you've lost your edge as a warrior."

"Ooh, chilling," Caspar said with a roll of his eyes. "Do you rehearse these lines, or think of it as you go, 'cuz you could make a great poet if you put your mind to it."

Poetry. That was something he enjoyed many years ago. When was the last time he made a haiku? It had to be sometime around when Glenn died. It was funny. They were absolutely horrible, yet his brother and mother ate it up all the time. They never could get enough. Why would he write another one if they were all gone?

"What're you getting at?"

"Probably the same thing everyone else is nagging you for," Caspar said, taking a long sip of his mead. "This isn't what life is for. You need to eat, drink, be stupid, be fun, not shut yourself in a room and swing that thing all day. Fighting is for fun, for sport, for war, not for life. I guess you forgot that over the years, huh?" He slapped Felix's back, grinning. "When there's a fight for our lives, we'll break tooth and nail for it, but when we're here, we're gonna live like kings."

Living like a king certainly sounded better than living like a rat, picking at molding cheese. Why keep on sleeping on grass, dirt, and dilapidated inns reeking of rat piss when he could have a roof over his head, warm food in his belly, and a loving woman at his side? No more sleeping with one eye open, wondering if tomorrow's war will be the last war he ever fights. No more lending his sword out to sadistic nobles, who were trying to fill the many power vacuums left behind around Fodlan. Just the quiet of Garreg Mach with Annette, his beloved at his side.

There was the fact of the matter though. Felix was a killer. A disgusting monster that separated far too many mothers and fathers from sons, and vice versa. After everything he's done, after the death-seeking life that he resigned himself to, did he even deserve to live the life he wanted? Better yet, what other things could he do that wasn't swinging a sword? It was all impossible to imagine. Trying to picture it made his head feel like it was splitting open.

Then he imagines Annette's face, smiling up at him. The tiny angel risked it all just to save him.

If only he could be what she saw in him. If he was anything like that, he could do anything. Even be a peaceful man.

"Hey uh, you okay?" Caspar asked, awkwardly. "You kinda went quiet there. Are you that bothered by me?"

"No. Sorry," Felix mumbled.

"Again with that- Sorry just does not sound right coming out of you."

"As I said, Caspar, I can be civil. And…" He took a quick sip of his mead, letting that warm, refreshing drink drain down his throat. "So be it. I'll 'live a little'."

Caspar beamed ear to ear again. It was enough to embarrass a scarecrow. "Atta' boy! Chug, chug, chug!"

"Chug yourself."

"Or please don't chug at all?" Annette interrupted, surprising them both. "The last thing we need is Felix streaking down the mess hall again."

Both the men sloshed their drinks on the table for very different reasons. "Sorry, sorry, he did what?" Caspar guffawed.

"Nothing. He did nothing. Go back to your drink," Felix tried to cut in.

"Unfortunately, Felix can't hold his liquor. The last time he got drunk, he threw his clothes in the fire and started sprinting down the mess hall, trying to catch dust bunnies that kept floating away," Annette explained. "It was a disaster for anyone sober. None of us could catch him. We found him covered in hay on a farm the next morning."

Felix hid his face in his hands, ears burning. "Nobody needed to know that,"

"I did!" Caspar cackled, holding his sides, laughing. "I totally did! Who knew you were such an animal!"

"It was just one night- ugh, if you speak a word of this, I'll gut you," Felix warned, unable to raise his head.

"I'm sure you can go one day without gutting someone, Felix," Annette joked, tugging at his arms. "Come with me, will you?"

"Is he in trouble again?" Caspar jeered.

Annette rolled her eyes. "I want to have some time with my partner. That can't be too much to ask, right?" Felix's cheeks burned red again. It was embarrassing, considering they were long since official, but being reminded of that fact always made him glow like a lit flame.

Caspar snickered, and waved his hand as if trying to shoo a fly away. "Go on, get going. No kids before marriage, I think. I dunno, I forgot what the Church said about that."

"You'd forget your head if it wasn't attached!" Felix called back as he was being dragged out the door.

It was surprisingly easy to find a quiet place in the middle of the celebration. It was by the stables, lit only by torchlight and the stars overhead. Annette clung to his arm with a bright smile on her face.

"What do you think? Worth saving?"

"Possibly…" Felix answered.

"So, yes."

Felix only grunted. He wouldn't ever admit it. Not to her face.

"Whatever happened to Luin?" Annette pondered.

"Sent back to Galatea, or what's left of it," Felix hadn't seen that estate in years. For all he knew, it was already burnt down to the grounds, but as far as he knew, her father was still alive, along with a few possible descendants. Something to keep that old legacy alive in the dying family. It was at least something he could hope for. "I think I'm the last person to keep it, even if it's just for sentimental value."

Annette nodded, hugging his arm tighter and leaning her head against it. The warmth alone was the most comfortable thing he's felt in a long time. "What're you gonna do now?"

Felix was silent, not having considered it for a while. For the most part, he was on the verge of full recovery and was already fit for travel. There were still a few unmarked contracts that needed to be fulfilled, but right now, all of them slowly burned to nothing in his head. All he saw was Garreg Mach and Annette Fantine Dominic.

"I'll… stick around," Felix answered. "You do need at least someone who knows how to swing a sword the right way- uumf!"

With a surprising amount of strength, the short stack yanked Felix down and hugged his head, cheering loudly. "Yes! Thank you, Goddess! I was so worried we'd have this talk again!"

A debate he would lose. There was no arguing with her.

"I better get a song outta this,"

"Heh, fine, if you wanna be so pushy…"

For the first time in the longest time, Felix couldn't stop smiling.

Chapter Text

Long, slender fingers tapped the mahogany desk as Dorothea mulled through a dirty well of thoughts. The glaring sunlight and uncomfortably hot humidity didn't help in the matters. She sat hunched over the table, head propped up by her elbows, pooling over old ledgers, mail, and letters of complaints and grievances that she couldn't do anything about. They would've been attended to a long time ago if it wasn't for the ancient guest that had long since overstayed his welcome.

It was around that time of the week again, when all the puffed-up nobles with enough riches to buy out an entire nation come in to woo her. There wasn't even any subtlety involved, and they just got older and older. Her current contender for her heart, or rather, her body, was a local count from the further segmented former Alliance. And of course, he would have to waste her entire afternoon enthralling her with tales of great battles and the many ways he knew how to 'take charge'.

This was an everyday affair, even before the war. Even before she attended to Garreg Mach, as a matter of fact. As far as she could remember, it was proposals, flowers, gifts, and more suitors than she knew what to do with, especially during her days in the Mitilfrank Opera Company. At some point, the originality dropped off and the age kept on rising. She swore the suitors will be skeletons in golden bathrobes before one of them succeeded in wooing her.

The noble wasn't a very ugly man at least- Dorothea could've sworn her previous suitor was part frog with how puffy his face was. He was a middle-aged man with short salt-pepper-colored hair, dressed in a finely embroidered white and gold tunic, dark dress pants, and a red cloak to hold the look of royalty. It was a bit gaudy if you asked her. If you wanted to draw her attention, why not go for something more natural? Something that screamed, 'This is me', and not, 'this is my wealth'.

"Excuse me, are you paying attention?" Dorothea snapped out of her daze. Goddess, where was her concentration today?

"Sorry, I had something on my mind," Dorothea answered. A half-truth if anything. Half wondering what she would make the orphans in her care for dinner tonight, half fighting off telling the man to take a hike.

"You would do well to listen. I was in the middle of a rather rapturing tale of my military exploits!" He bleated, hand over his heart. He had charisma, she had to give him that. For heaven's sake, what was his name again? That would bother her all day. Or until he walked out the door and this entire wasted afternoon drifted out of her mind.

"Great…" She mumbled, already starting to zone out again. The long table distancing them couldn't be long enough. "I think I've had my fill of war, thank you very much."

The suitor's face flushed. Oh no, who would have thought that a young lady fresh out of the war doesn't want to speak of war? "Come now, Miss Arnault, we can discuss the gory details of war. The children are all away."

"Whether the children are here or not is beside the point," She retorted. "Besides, you've talked about nothing but battle since you arrived. Don't you have anything else to bore me with? Perhaps tales of the many bar maidens you seduced?"

Full deadpan. The man was staring at a beautiful wall with no openings. Dorothea was expressionless, almost looking bored. She'd given up all pretense at this point, all of her patience lost. Still, the noble tried to pick up whatever pieces of this conversation he had left.

"My lady, surely you must understand the glory brought on by this war. Think of how much we achieved in such a brief time," He reasoned. "Few nations in history can say they've achieved a coup like this."

"Why would you want to bring glory to something that took their families away?"

"There are always sacrifices-"

"Spare me." Dorothea raised her palm. She had enough.

"Please, I was just-"

"I couldn't care less. You know where my door is."

The noble's teeth grit. He probably had never seen rejection in his life. Dorothea felt lucky to be the one to do it first. "You're missing a massive opportunity, you know. Who else can keep this trash heap funded and alive? Think about your situation. If you don't find a wealthy suitor, both you and your children will be out on the streets! Perhaps that beauty and loud mouth could be used elsewhere then."

Dorothea wrung her hands together so tight her knuckles went white. "Have a nice day." The older 'gentleman' stormed out of the room after that, shouting obscenities to anyone who just happened to be in the hall. The carriage that looked more like a palace rattled away in the distance. She swore she could hear the puffed-up pastry squawking from here.

The nerve of that man. Dorothea thought he'd never leave. Her tense shoulders caved and she pressed her head onto the table, groaning. If only things were a little easier, but responsibility snuck up on her and beat her over the head.

The door handle rattled, eliciting another groan from the dancer. No more visitors. Dorothea was officially on Do Not Disturb mode.

"Hey, uh, are you free? Can I come in now?" A chirpy little voice asked nervously.

Annette?

Dorothea sat up suddenly, wiping the drool off her lips and fixing her bangs up for a guest that actually mattered. "Yes, yes, you can come in!" She called.

Annette eased the door open, peeking her head through first, and swiveled her head around.

"He's not here," Dorothea snickered. "And don't worry, I'm not about to hurl a meteor at you. Maybe that man, but not my good friend."

Annette's smile brightened the room more than the sunlight did. "Thanks for not dropping flaming boulders on my head," She giggled, sitting down next to her. "How was your guest?"

"Ugh, he couldn't be out of this house fast enough. Did you know that he hunted down a total of forty-seven bears in his lifetime?"

Annette cocked a brow. "No? Why would I need to?"

"I have no idea, but it was all he talked about for an hour. I don't think I got a word out," She sighed. "I don't think he even remembers my name."

"You sound oddly disappointed."

"I just wish these men thought more with their heads than their sausage for once,"

Annette's cheeks suddenly flushed. "Dorothea!"

"Come on, Annette, you're a big girl," She said with a roll of her eyes. "You can talk about big girl things now. I'm surprised you aren't talking about more big girl things now, considering your romp with our resident stray cat-"

"Dorothea, please! You're killing me over here…" Annette whined, hiding her bright red face in her hands. Aah, flustered fresh couples were the most entertaining to tease.

"How is he anyway?" She inquired. "Last I checked, he had a run-in with a camp of bandits?"

"A run-in doesn't cut it," Annette giggled. Her reddening cheeks and little squirrely fidgets had a story to tell. "A group of bandits was taking some of the soldiers and workers from Garreg Mach over the last month for one big ransom."

Dorothea held her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. "Oh my, that's horrible… Why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"You have your own problems dealing with this place. I didn't want to shell out my on you as well."

"No, that won't do. Tell me whenever something happens, regardless of its severity. You're my friend, remember?"

Annette smiled and nodded. "Well, we won't have to deal with them again. Felix took care of it."

"All by his lonesome? An entire group of bandits?"

"Must've been around twenty strong. Maybe more. Felix still hasn't lost his edge."

After all this time, Felix's sword arm was still sharp as his tongue. Excluding the Professor, Felix may very well be the best swordsman in the country. Perhaps even further than that. "And he's getting along well with the others?"

Annette's face lit up once again. "Better than I could've imagined! The night he returned, he went out drinking with Caspar, and had some fun!"

"Drinking with Caspar? Who is he, and what has he done with our grouchy little cat?"

"He's seeking conversations, Dorothea. Do you understand how much of an improvement that is?"

Doing the human basics of starting a conversation shouldn't be grounds for celebration, but for a social outcast like Felix, there should've been a parade much like heroes returning from war.

"At least you two are getting along better," Dorothea teased.

"How about you? Running the place like a champ still?"

A small smile crept onto Dorothea's lips. "A champ? Annette, you flatter me."

"I should be doing more than that when you've still got all these kids to take care of."

Dorothea shook her head. She wouldn't ask that of Annette, or anyone for that matter. This was her burden to bear if one could even call it a burden to see the smiles on the children's faces every day.

The war had made her a busier bee than even Ferdinand himself. Families were separated or dismantled. Entire noble houses were erased. The only things left standing were the children, and that was Dorothea's duty. During the war, she had gathered as many children as she could find, housed them, and fed them. Was it her business? No. But what was the alternative? Leaving toddlers to fend for themselves? After the war concluded, she was practically left with her orphanage, in a building bought by all her war funds.

Of course, running this sort of place cost a lot of gold, and time on her hands. The time wasn't an issue. Children needed care when they got sick, or someone to comfort them when they needed it. If they needed it, she would provide it. It was only natural. Unfortunately, providing costs gold, and gold is more finite than her patience, and she was having issues obtaining some, what with her time spent mostly here instead of in the Opera house.

If only this was a once-in-a-while deal, but ever since knights in shining bathroom robes swooped in on their lavish chariots to take her away. Times were tough. There was no denying it. But whether or not she had any coin to her name, she still had her pride, and goddess be damned, there was no way some wrinkled old prune with a few zeroes to his name would just take her for a trophy.

"I can manage," Dorothea said with a nod. "I've managed before under worse circumstances. I wasn't much unlike those kids, you know. Her family died from war and famine, much like theirs. I just… don't want those children growing up without any love, much like myself."

Annette sighed. "There isn't any trouble in taking help. You should know that by now-" She trailed off, leaning over and peeking at the door behind Dorothea.

"Oh Goddess, is he back again- oh hello there, Bella," Dorothea cooed, spotting the very young girl with chocolate brown hair and little dimples on her cheeks. "Aren't you supposed to be taking your bath?"

She simply shook her little head, bouncing her little hair bun. Impetuous as always. Dorothea let out a quiet giggle, and picked up the child, placing her on her hip.

"Are all the kids this tiny?" Annette cooed, pinching Bella's cheeks, much to the younger girl's chagrin.

"You'd be surprised. The oldest child in this estate is twelve," She explained. "Now, young lady, what are you doing out here and not in the bath? Did Seamus chase you with an earthworm again?" Bella glanced at Annette nervously. "It's okay, sweetie. We can talk freely with Aunty Annie around."

Annette stood up a bit straighter hearing that.

"I don't have any more clothes to change into," Bella answered honestly.

"Oh…"

Those words struck like a knife. Not being able to provide something as simple as new dresses for kids felt like a catastrophic failure. She didn't have an answer on how to fix it, so she stayed quiet, bouncing the young girl on her hip in shame.

Luckily, Annette spoke up. "Well, luckily for you, I was about to go do a little shopping anyway! I can grab you a nice dress on the way back!"

Dorothea wanted to refuse that kindness, but at this point, what was she losing? Her pride? "Annette, you… Oh, alright. But nothing too expensive. You don't make much more than I do-"

There was a knock on the front door. Dorothea deflated suddenly. "Oh no, did he come back? Annette, could I borrow your hammer? I have a craving for squashed tomatoes now."

"At least let me answer the door before you start whacking." The peppy mage rushed out of her seat and bounded down the stairs with energy that Dorothea couldn't help but envy. She continued to bounce Bella on her hip, weighing her options, until Annette poked her head back in the door, looking confused. "Um, there's a mercenary at the door. He says wanted to leave a gift for you-"

"Oh Goddess, that's Will!" Hastily setting the young girl down, Dorothea sped down the stairs and towards the front door, where a young man with, leather armor stood waiting with a soft smile on his face. The young man was worn, with naturally tired eyes, but was strikingly handsome, with tanned skin, stern chocolate brown eyes, and curly brown hair dressed in dark, and a warm glow.

She wanted to keep her cool. She wanted to confidently strut towards the hapless mercenary and say something witty and dare-she-say, clever, but all she could do was grin from ear to ear like a child snatching a cookie for a jar. She wasn't the only one as the little Bella bounded down the stairs, and smashed her small body against him into a tight hug.

"Mister Will! Mister Will!" She squealed, bouncing on the balls of her heels.

"Oh what in the world do we have here?" He joked, picking her up. "Who told you to get this big?"

"Nobody," She sang. "I'm a big girl now, just like Mama Thea!"

Mama Thea. Goddess above did her heart melt into goo whenever she was called that.

"Mm, you're not quite there yet, child. You've still got a ways to go before you get as big as Mama Thea."

Dorothea crossed her arms. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means this young lady still has a while before she turns into a beautiful lady, such as yourself."

"Heh, flattery saves your life today… Will Altair."

Will chuckled a little bit, placing the young girl down. "I live to please, Dorothea Arnault,"

Annette glanced from the young mercenary to the dancer a few times, cheeks burning redder with each glance. Nevertheless, the pair continued to gaze into each other's eyes as if each were greeting an old lover. She cleared her throat. "If you two are all set, I can go…"

"Oh! I don't believe you've met Will yet, have you?" Dorothea sauntered over to Will, scratching under his chin. "This right here is Will Altair, the last of my employees. He takes high-paying mercenary jobs and brings his funds home for the estate. You should see him around the children. They absolutely adore him!"

"I also adore not being tickled like a cat," Will barbed, not so much as bothering to lift his hand to stop her.

"Oh don't be such a baby, or I might just spray you with water, cat," She snarked, continuing her tickling.

"Maybe this will take you out of it," He said, reaching back and pulling out a single large pouch, bouncing it in his hands. "It was on the rough side, but I got compensated well enough. Three thousand, two hundred gold."

Dorothea's jaw dropped. "You're joking…"

"I sure as hell hope not with what I had to go through to get this."

"And no strings attached?"

"That army did try to recruit me, but you know where my loyalties lie."

Dorothea swallowed. That was far more than normal. Taking the cut of taxes and general house maintenance out of the way, this was more than enough to last them for well over a month. "Then you'll take your cut this time, yes?"

"Ah ah, no can do. You already know the drill,"

Dorothea glared at the man. There was no way in hell she was letting him off that easily. "Will Altair, you take some of this gold for yourself, or so help me, I'll dump all of this on a new dress for myself."

Will grinned, instantly calling her bluff. "It better have gold trims. They're all the rage right now."

"Will…"

"Will, nothing. You take that money and make a feast for those kids. I'm perfectly fine with my situation," He stubbornly pressed, stretching. That twitch in his eye wasn't unnoticed, however, or the little wince in the corner of his lips. "Now if you don't mind, I need to head to the inn. I've got a long nap ahead of me-"

Dorothea shut the door behind him. "Annette, if he tries to leave, kick him in the shin."

"Roger!" Annette saluted.

Will exchanged glances with the pair and sighed. "You know what happened to the last people that tried to kidnap me, right?"

"Those last people weren't me, now before you go on picking up any more of my little darlings, you need to take a bath yourself." She licked her thump and wiped off a smudge of dirt on his cheek. "While you're doing that, I'll fix up one of the guest rooms, and if you're lucky, I'll make you dinner."

He smiled. "Much appreciated- ugh…" There it was. A groan of pain that he couldn't suppress. His jaw clenched, teeth grit and strong fingers balled into fists. Just under the shoulder straps of the leather armor, oozing through his collard black shirt, was a line of dark red. Dots and lines of crimson left dark, wet stains spotted around his shoulders, chest, and the sides of his armor. He could tell she knew he was wounded because whatever cockiness he expressed was thrown right out the window.

"Now hold on, let's not be hasty," He managed.

"Trying to hide your wounds from me again, are we?" Dorothea scoffed, arms crossed, fingers drumming on her arm impatiently. "Now you know the drill. Bathroom. Now. Don't you dare start taking detours. Those wounds will be treated even if I have to tie you to a chair."

"Dorothea-"

"Move, mister. Go," She directed, pointing her finger up the stairs. The strong, professionally skilled mercenary hung his head and sighed in defeat, marching up the stairs like a defeated soldier. "Honestly, that man…"

This time, it was Annette's turn to beam ear to ear. "So, Will, hm?"

"Annie, please, he's just one of my workers," Dorothea bleated. Tell that to the red staining her cheeks.

"Wa-psh!" Annette mimed a whip, poking her tongue out at Dorothea.

"Oh hush…"

Chapter Text

"Oh, will you stop fussing?" Dorothea complained, slapping the top of Will's hand.

"Try not strangling my arm with gauze, then we can talk about fussing!" Will retorted. "And will you- agh! Tight! 'Thea!"

"Serves you right."

Dorothea was no stranger to confrontation. Being made into an impromptu soldier for an imperial coup, not to mention the year spent under a mercenary's tutelage, taught her a thing or two about handling difficult situations. However, nothing could come close to getting one restless man to sit still for five minutes while she addressed his wounds. The bathroom was not a place for war, but Dorothea was willing to make an exception for someone who couldn't keep still.

Will came home in quite a state- covered in the typical bruises, scrapes, and scratches from being a weary soldier of war. It wasn't a graceful occupation. A soldier would typically get shoved into muddy, dusty battlefields, with nothing to protect them from the elements but their standard, military-approved cloaks that were thin as parchment. Getting covered in grime and muck, along with the nicks and scrapes from combat, was a given.

This time was complicated. These weren't your typical war scratches, some of those cuts were grisly and turning a sickly green. A nasty cut on his shoulder was oozing pus when she tore that dirty waste of fabric a medic would call a bandage off him. Will wasn't making the process any easier with his constant squirming and complaints, but it should serve him right to be more careful out in the war, shouldn't it?

Of course, Will wasn't making things easy. The fool couldn't sit still if his life depended on it, always scratching and fidgeting, with the occasional childish whine.

"Goddess, I need to give this healer a piece of my mind," Dorothea growled, dabbing a swab on an arrow wound. One that was still bleeding profusely. "How on earth is this considered 'patched'?"

"Well, the healer was getting shot at while dressing it," Will replied. "Still, it's impressive what one can do with a dozen arrows flying above your head."

Dorothea flinched. Arrows sailing over his head at all hours of the day was a given, but she felt dreadful. Only a monster would willingly throw a man out into the wild for money. "You should've gotten it checked again before coming back home."

"I wasn't on the priority list," He explained simply.

"Priority list? Excuse me?"

"Noble's first, of course. The ones who bothered to get off their asses and fight anyway. Then the soldiers, then the common folk, then the mercenaries. Then, of course, the Almyran mercenaries at the very bottom. They ran out of bandages and started using seaweed and sackcloth we found by some burnt-down farm."

Dorothea's face contorted in disgust. "You fight their wars and they still treat you like dirt, it's sick. Since when was it okay to treat you like this? Didn't you win their battle?"

"Since battles turn into month-long sieges that go absolutely nowhere," He muttered, an edge in his voice. "How can you win a battle like that and get absolutely nothing out of it? He wasted all of his enlisted forces. Half of us were mercenaries who all bailed the moment we took that fort. He's going to lose it within a month, whatever his name is." He sighed into his hand. "Goddess, I served this Noble stain for a month and still don't remember his name."

"Then there's no reason to think about him again if he wasn't that memorable," Dorothea comforted, wiping dried blood off his neck. "Please tell me that's not your blood."

"It's not my blood."

"Are you being honest with me, Will?"

"I'm simply obeying orders, ma'am." That rotten sneer on his face. Dorothea wanted to swat it off like an agitated mother.

Dorothea shook her head and looked at the growing pile of old gauze wrapping on the ground. Most of it was soaked with enough blood to be permanently stained red. Whatever was left was stained a pale, sickening brown. She shivered.

"How long have you been traveling with these wounds?"

"A day, give or take."

"And they had no clerics? No healers with magic?"

"Ha! That would require a budget. And a leader who knows what he's doing."

"Apparently," Dorothea commented, placing two fingers along the swollen, deep cut stretching from his left pectoral up past his collarbone, holding a crooked wooden stave. Lessons with white magic healing weren't infrequent, but they weren't her speed. Black magic was her specialty, along with fencing, but she knew enough to sap the infection from a wound. "What even happened here?"

"What happened to what?"

"This shoulder wound. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought you'd swam in a swamp before coming home," Dorothea pressed, dabbing at the wound with a rag. "Algea's coming off it, for goodness sake."

"I did have to swim through a lake-"

"A lake?" Dorothea howled. "Are you insane? Or just a man?"

"Pfft," Will stifled a laugh. "Is being a man a call for lack of intelligence now?"

"Fidget anymore, and I might just say yes." She slapped the back of his hand again as he tried to reach for the tightly woven wound dressing on his back. The last thing he needed to do was re-open an arrow wound she worked tirelessly to patch. "Although I say a man is messy, impetuous, and reckless for his own good."

"Add ugly to boot."

"And impatient. Can never let a woman finish, can they?" She said, shaking her head. "What I wanted to say was handsome, brave, generous, and dependable. Might I say, extremely responsible too," She giggled, holding his cheek. "You sir, are the definition of a man, and you have no idea how grateful I am to have you."

"Now you're just messing with me again," Will said dismissively, although there was a hint of joy in his tone. Compliments were scarce for an Almyran. Even rarer from a woman like Dorothea.

"I don't just hand out praise on a silver platter," Dorothea said. "Take my word, will you? Am I that untrustworthy?"

Will's eyes widened, tensing suddenly. "No, no, it's not that. I'm just… how do I put this." His hand met the back of his itching, hot neck. Parts of it were still red from sunlight overexposure. "I'm still not used to it. People in Fodlan giving me the time of day, at least."

Dorothea's hand slid over Wills, fingers coiling together. "Well, you had better used to it. We care about you. Think anything otherwise, I'll whack you with a tree branch."

"You sound like my mother," Will joked, the corners of his lips turning into a smirk. A stain of red stretched across his nose.

Strange. Countless times, Dorothea had pulled the same play. Placing her hand over another wasn't a unique move in her repertoire- it was the easiest trick in the boot to getting what she wants from unsuspecting nobles or knights. This was different. Instead of a quick grasp or rub, her hand stayed over his. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him. The safety and security. It felt, dare-she-say like it was meant to fit over his.

And thus, my thoughts run wild.

Dorothea cleared her throat and released his hand, her face hot. She stepped back to admire her handiwork. The bandages around his more grievous wounds were on the stiff side, but the results spoke for themselves. No infection, no bleeding, and only a slightly fussy man. Job well done.

"If we're done here, I will check on the children. With any luck, they haven't ripped each other's hair out while I was gone," She said, standing up and patting her red dress down.

"You're making for a really good mother, 'Thea," Will commented.

"Enough, Will, you're making me blush," Dorothea beamed.

"I'm just being honest. And thank you again, Miss Arnault,"

Once again, Dorothea found herself fiddling with her hair. "It's part of the job, Will. And please, just call me Thea. I adore it when you call me Thea."

/

It was around three in the morning before Dorothea could sleep. Not from some outrageously long to-do list in the middle of the night, but from some attempt to quell the blood roaring through her head. It was Sunday- church day. Or in Dorothea's case, a free two hours to herself. She was never a church-going woman, even in the monastery's days. Two hours much needed. Her head felt like it weighed the same as a coconut, her neck swiveling to keep her tired head up.

"The nightmares are long gone and I'm still struggling to sleep," She mumbled to herself, head hung. The dancer stood up and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Wake up, Dorothea. Wake up."

"Should I be concerned that you're speaking to yourself?" The sudden voice made Dorothea jump a good foot high. Will sat at the desk, quill in hand, scribbling away at a long parchment scroll. Dorothea scowled. That devilish smirk of his made her blood boil. That man knew exactly what he did, and reveled in it.

"Marching into a woman's room unannounced? They hang men for that in some nations," She said hotly.

"Then consider me a man lucky to be born in Almyra, where the worst I'd get is a knife thrown at me," Will chuckled, keeping his eyes on the paper. The least this fool could do was look her in the eyes.

"Don't tempt me. I still have a dagger or five lying around," She warned.

"I believe it. I've already tripped over three of them just walking in here."

Dorothea blushed. The state of her room wasn't… shall we say, ladylike? Clothes were still flung about all over the floor, among other things. Worn dancing shoes and a couple of old weapons were put against the wall, with some toppled all over the floor. Several tups of makeup, some still open were littering her table, along with half-eaten muffins that she swore she'd never touch. Why couldn't Will see this place when she had time to tidy up?

"That still doesn't answer why you're here," She pressed.

"Some trade requests and shipments needed some signing," He answered.

Her eyes widened suddenly. The trading caravans and ship orders! How could she forget? "Where are the orders? I need to-"

"I already signed them off. You were sleeping pretty soundly, so I figured I might as well. The food and clothing should arrive here by noon tomorrow."

Dorothea blinked. "But I also still need to write Gomez about the repairs to our windows. Winters coming, and the last thing those children need is to freeze."

"Took care of that too."

"... I take it you also-"

"Inventory and record updates for the children? All done."

"You're really on top of things," Dorothea praised, forgetting her wrath for a moment to smile at him. "And here I am, still floundering at the bottom."

"Considering you're the woman who opened this orphanage and gave these children a home, I beg to differ," He said simply. "Could you stop telling yourself that farce for one day?"

"Tell me that when my trusted sword isn't taking over my duties while I'm snoring like a sloth."

"As soon as I tell you not to work yourself into a twelve-hour slumber. Quit while you're ahead, 'Thea. You're not winning this battle."

"Clearly," Dorothea sighed. "And thank you for looking out for me. Truly. If I can offer you give you anything in return, as meager as my sums are, just name it."

Will cleared his throat, a bit of red forming on his tanned cheeks. "Well, you can put on some clothes for a start."

Dorothea blinked. Wasn't she wearing her nightdress? She looked down and saw her usual, frilly nightdress she wore nightly. Her very thin, transparent nightdress.

Very transparent.

"Oh, Goddess!" She suddenly howled, hugging her chest and twisting her torso in some attempt to hide herself from what Will had already seen clear as day. Mortifying didn't even come close to how this situation was.

"I can just pretend I didn't see anything and just continue on my day," Will joked.

"That would be best." Dorothea whimpered quietly.

While Dorothea hid in her bedsheets to preserve what little shame she had left, Will finished with the busywork and stretched in his seat. "That didn't take long. Only just half my morning."

"No one asked you to do it anyway," Dorothea barbed.

"You taught me how to read. I might as well use it for something."

"I didn't do it to make you my personal clerk."

"No matter how you might need one." He stood up and brushed the seat off politely. "I'll be seeing you in a moment. I've still got some training to do."

"Can't you last a day without a sword in your hands?" Dorothea asked, sitting up.

"Not when mastering the sword is part of the job. I won't cut off any of the heads of the statues if that's what you're worried about." He offered her a wink. "I learned the first time."

She swallowed. To hell with her shame.

Dorothea sprang out of bed and wrapped her arms around the mercenary, pulling him into her embrace. Will's jaw was slack, scandalized. From how her chest was pressed against his shirt, it wasn't hard to see why.

"Thank you, for looking after me," She said quietly. "Not many people do- or should, for that matter, but you do it anyway. That goes a long way with me. Thank you, so much."

Will didn't move. Dorothea felt petrified for a moment, thinking she did the wrong thing, but she felt strong, yet tender arms cuddle her, powerful fingers running through her hair. "See, this? This is worth far more to me than whatever gold you want to pay me."

Dorothea's heart skipped a beat. Try as she might, she couldn't stop smiling. "I'll find a way to pay you for your service sometime soon, even if I have to sneak money into your pockets, Altair."

"I dare you to try, Ms. Arnault-"

"'Thea."

"... 'Thea. Heh."

Dorothea didn't know how long the embrace lasted, only that she never wanted to let go. He was warm. Strong. It had been long since someone made her feel this safe and secure, not since her old crush, the Professor. But she couldn't stay here forever.

"Go on then. I won't keep you," She said, pulling away from him. Her body ached slightly the moment they parted. "Just be careful with those wounds. I spent ages patching you up." She reached down and gave his butt a good whack. Will's breath hitched, his cheeks beaming red.

"Excuse you, miss," Will said in a quiet tone. "Women could lose their hands for that in some nations."

"Then consider me a lucky lady of Fodlan. You could return the favor if you play your cards right," She flirted back.

Will chuckled. "Don't get my hopes up," He said before closing the door behind him.

Dorothea still couldn't stop grinning ear to ear like a candid schoolgirl. No matter. She changed into her red, ornate dress, cleaned herself up, and walked over to the small schoolhouse they had stashed away inside the building.

The children were all already awake, corralled into the classroom for the morning lectures- education was still important in this country, orphaned or not. Half had their heads on their tables, counting sheep, while the other half were struggling not to join them.

Annette was leading the lecture and was in the zone. The classroom was always her element, and it showed. The klutzy, messy, jumpy woman was left at the door and a dignified, cheerful little vanilla bean was lashing chalk on the board like an artist on canvas. The children always loved her, openly giving her hugs after class and their eyes always lit up when she did a little magic, albeit a mere candlelight compared to the massive columns of flames she could casually conjure.

Dorothea leaned on the doorframe of the classroom, fighting off a yawn in an attempt to stay dignified. "Look at you go," She cheered with a drowsy smile.

Annette's already-lit eyes shined brighter when their eyes met. "Hey, Dorothea, you're up early!"

"Late, more like," She sighed. "I didn't get much sleep. Much like you little squirts here," She giggled, watching the little ones look away innocently, some trying not to laugh. "Don't think I didn't hear you chirping like little birdies. My room's not far from yours."

"But we were sleeping, mama Thea!" A little girl named Carter pointed out. Little Gremlin thought she could lie through her teeth, but Dorothea heard her chittering on the other side of her wall the night before.

"If by sleeping, you mean tickling little Susie in her bed at goddess knows what hour of the night," She said, crossing her arms. "Don't try to pull a fast one on me. I've done all of your tricks three times over. If I hear all your giggling again when you should be sleeping, no desert for a week. That goes for all of you."

The children collectively moaned, but no one objected. It was set in stone then. A sly little grin stretched onto Annette's face. "And you say you're not a mother. You can lay down the law like one."

Dorothea's face went hot. "They're just children, Anny. I used to order grown men in armor around."

"And you did that really well too."

"What is with you today?" Dorothea chuckled. "Full of compliments, aren't you? Someone's in a good mood since she found her Mr. Right-"

"Children! C-Children are here!" Annette suddenly squealed, cheeks bright red.

"Right, right, whatever you say miss. Anyway, what time is it? Shouldn't they be getting ready for church and choir?"

"They should be ready in a few minutes, after my lecture. I'll escort them myself, don't worry."

Dorothea balked slightly. "Anny, please, I shouldn't put that burden on you."

"It's suddenly a burden to look after children? The construction is almost done for the Monastery, so I won't have anything else better to do for a while. Go on, take a load off, put up your feet. Enjoy your break, because we all know you never get one."

Dorothea wanted to argue, but whatever she wanted to say was drowned in a yawn. Suddenly her eyelids felt like they were being tugged on by circus strong men. "I suppose a bath is in order."

"And a nap. And before you say anything, you have time. I'm planning on taking your little babies on a little trip around town," She smiled at the children suddenly gawking at her. "That's right, we're going on a wagon ride! All around Enbarr!"

The room erupted with shrill cheers, loud enough to wake an elephant, let alone the slumbering children in the back of the room. Dorothea smiled. She really had a way with children.

"Thank you, Anny," She said gratefully.

"Don't thank me, what are friends for? Go on and get some shut-eye."

All in due time.

She was about to walk away to take a bath when she heard a knock on the door. Her brow cocked. "Anny, are we expecting anyone?"

"We shouldn't be. No one's normally out today."

"I thought so." She took a deep breath and marched to the front door, hesitantly pulling it open. Standing at the door was an older gentleman, dressed in a crisp, clean noble suit. She shuddered in disgust- it was too early for this. "I apologize, we aren't taking guests-"

"Unfortunately, we're here on business."

"Excuse me?"

"I am Thorwin of house Berglitz. I've come to take whatever boys you have into service under us."