Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Felix first awoke in the infirmary, his first thought was that he blamed the swordsman, not the mage.

His second thought, as he turned his head and a shockwave of pain radiated out from his chest and traveled to the tips of his fingers, was that he didn’t care much for the mage, either. Felix hoped the mage’s death had been painful.

Still, the swordsman was to blame. And the fog. 

Dread had hung in the air on the battlefield at Gaspard. The fog itself seemed malevolent. Felix’s classmates ventured forward slowly, huddling together like a flock of frightened sheep. 

Felix had spotted the mage before anyone, his torchlight piercing through the fog to catch the faint glow of magic in the trees ahead. He hadn’t considered that the magic was responsible for the fog, of course. That had been Annette Dominic, whispering a string of complicated theories and hypotheses as she clung tightly to Ashe’s arm. But once Felix heard the problem, he figured out a solution soon enough, and drew his sword soon after.

Felix was pretty sure Annette stopped mid-sentence to scream his name when he charged forward. The professor might have said something, as well. He was focused on the mage, ready to strike, ready to solve the problem of the fog and its discontent once and for all.

Until a swordsman appeared out of nowhere, running from the north of the woods. He hadn’t been skilled – he barely knew how to hold the sword, let alone swing it – but he had been momentarily distracting.

And evidently, momentarily distracting was all the mage needed.

Felix tried rolling onto his side, to make it easier to sit up in his infirmary cot. He felt the lingering nausea of dark magic every time he moved. Maybe he could find it in his heart to hate the swordsman and the mage equally, he decided. If he’d made it back to the Garreg Mach infirmary in one piece, then it was unlikely either of them were alive to argue with his assessment.

“Felix! Are you feeling better?”

The voice was gentle and almost musical, not loud at all. But it was far too cheerful for Felix to handle at the moment.

“Tch,” he muttered, rolling back onto his side.

“You poor dear,” Mercedes said, reaching out a hand and brushing his bangs back from his face. Felix thought about batting her hand away, but he’d repeated the gesture one too many times with his mother. He didn’t want Mercedes getting any ideas that he was in any way invested in her general bedside manner. 

“We won, then?” he asked instead, directing his question to the opposite wall.

“Oh! Yes! How silly of me, of course you haven’t heard yet.” Mercedes patted Felix’s knee absently, as if he were a small child in need of assurance, which he most certainly was not. “We were able to defeat the mage causing all that terrible fog, which really cleared things up! Unfortunately, Lord Gaspard wouldn’t listen to reason, and I’m afraid he perished in the battle.” She frowned, then added, “I’m worried for Ashe, of course. He seemed very upset about it all.”

“Sure,” Felix said. He didn’t really want to talk about Ashe’s feelings. “Am I free to go, then?” he asked.

“Oh! Hm. I mean, you just woke up,” Mercedes said, pressing a finger to her lips and frowning thoughtfully. “I suppose the best thing to do would be to call Professor Manuela and see if she can – 

“Fraldarius. You’re awake.”

It was remarkable, really. Professor Byleth never raised her voice, but her words always seemed to cut through the air as cleanly as her sword. She stood in the doorway of the infirmary, leaning slightly against the door. Her expression was, as always, completely unreadable.

“Oh! Professor!” Mercedes said, turning with a giant smile. “Felix just woke up. I’ve been telling him about all he’s missed. I was just saying that maybe he needs a few more hours to rest before I call Professor Manuela –”

“We need to talk,” Professor Byleth said. She was clearly glaring at Felix, not Mercedes. “Blue Lions classroom. Fifteen minutes.” She started to turn to leave, then remembered to add. “Say thank you to Mercedes for patching you up.” 

She left before Felix could reply. He stared at the recently-slammed door leading out of the infirmary, then hesitantly swung his legs over the side of his cot. He glanced up at Mercedes. She was smiling down at him pleasantly, waiting for him to say something.

“I guess you have a lot of work to do,” Felix said. “Bye.”

Mercedes’s smile became more serene, if such a thing was even possible. “I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better, Felix!” she said sweetly. “But if you feel bad, just come straight back here. I’ll patch you right up!”

“Right. Bye.” 

Felix was out of the infirmary and halfway down the hallway before he realized that he’d technically said goodbye twice. He hated how chatty everyone in this class was. It was starting to rub off on him.

He tested his injuries as he walked along. Mercedes had done a good job, even if her bedside matter was annoyingly invested. He could put his weight his feet equally as he walked, and the nausea and pain from the dark magic was lingering rather than acute. Felix swung his arms in a couple of practice circles. He’d be fine. He could walk it off, and he’d probably feel fine after a few hours at the training grounds. 

After he talked to the professor. Whatever that was about.

A sudden crashing sound jolted Felix out of his mental inventory. It was followed by several smaller crashing sounds.  Felix hurried around the corner, just in case the source of the crashing sound was something he needed to point his sword at. 

It wasn’t, as it turned out. Quite the opposite.

Annette Dominic stood among a pile of fallen boxes, looking down at them bleakly. Felix wasn’t sure if she was trying to figure out how they’d gotten like that or she was trying to figure out the best way to stack them again. He decided not to mention it, either way.

“Hello, Annette,” Felix said, leaning against the wall and glancing down at the boxes.

“Oh!” Annette said, jolting around to look up at him. “Hello, Felix. This is a stupid place to stack boxes, right? Like anyone could run into them, right?” She blinked a few times as she looked at him, and a sudden look of realization flashed across her face. “Felix! You’re awake!”

She smiled at him, then, the boxes around her momentarily forgotten. Felix shifted uncomfortably against the wall. She didn’t have to look so relieved; it wasn’t a big deal.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a shrug.

Annette clapped her hands together. “I was so worried, you know,” she said. “The mage hit you and you just kind of – disappeared – into the fog. I thought maybe – well, it doesn’t matter now! You’re awake! That’s great.” 

Felix shrugged again. “You said the fog was being caused by magic. When I saw him, I knew I had to take him down.” 

“Well, technically, Dimitri took him down,” Annette said, pressing a finger to her cheek thoughtfully. “But you definitely distracted the mage long enough for – anyways! I’m glad you’re okay. Have you had a chance to talk to Ashe, yet? I’m really worried about him.” 

Felix scowled. He didn’t want to talk about Ashe, and he really didn’t want to talk about Dimitri. And besides that, Annette’s fluttering hand movements as she talked were constant and distracting. She touched her face again as she talked, and Felix couldn’t help but stare at a scratch running across her cheek.

“What’s that?” Felix asked, reaching out and brushing out his finger below the scratch. Annette froze in place, staring up at him with wide eyes, and Felix snatched his hand away as if he’d just brushed against fire. “Did you get hurt in the battle?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning away from her. 

“What?” Annette squeaked in surprise. She pressed her fingers against her cheek, wincing slightly. “No, I wasn’t – this isn’t a big deal. I don’t even know how I got it. Maybe one of these darn boxes. I’m always running into things.”

It bothered Felix that Annette was like that. Not that she was clumsy – mages didn’t need as much coordination; that was fine – but that she seemed to think it was a joke. Her friends were always teasing about it. No one seemed to think it was that big of a deal.

Felix reached into his jacket pocket and found a handkerchief. The scratch wasn’t bleeding, but it was an unpleasant shade of red. It wouldn’t hurt to press something cooling against it.

He handed it to Annette. She took it, surprised.

“Looks painful,” Felix said. “Maybe you should be in the infirmary, not me.”

Annette looked at the handkerchief for a moment, her lips parted slightly. Then she balled it up in one fist, her lips twisting into a scowl.

She glared up at Felix. “Are you making fun of me?” she asked.

“What?” Felix said. “No. Why would I be –”

“You think I can’t walk anywhere without knocking over a bunch of boxes, and everyone’s staring at my stupid scratches on my stupid face?” Annette said.

“Your face isn’t stupid,” Felix cut in, but Annette didn’t seem to notice.

 “And now they’ll stare at your stupid handkerchief,” she added. “They’ll say, wow, Annette can’t do anything right. She can’t even walk down the hallway without messing something up. Is that what you think?”

Felix looked around the hallway, but the boxes didn’t bother to offer him any help. He took a step back, looking over his shoulder. No help around the corner, either.

“I have to go,” he said. “The professor. Meeting. Bye.” 

He heard the crash over another box and Annette muttering something about a villain as he walked away, but he decided not to double back and ask for clarification. 

* * * 

The Blue Lions classroom was empty when Felix walked in, save for Professor Byleth, sitting behind her desk at the front of the room. She always looked as if she wasn’t quite sure how normal people sat – or maybe, she wasn’t quite sure how normal instructors at Garreg Mach sat. Felix secretly wondered if she put her feet up on the desk when students weren’t around. 

Byleth dropped her quill carelessly on a stack of essays when she saw Felix. She seemed unconcerned with the ink that was dripping across the top essay. Felix vaguely recognized Annette’s looping cursive. He wondered if she’d find a way to blame him for that, too. 

He set the thought aside and strode up to the desk. His rested one hand of the hilt of his sword. He doubted the professor would be interested in sparring today, but it felt more comfortable than glaring at her with his hands at his side.

Byleth looked up at him, unimpressed.

“Fraldarius.”

“Professor.”

“Would you like to explain to me what happened in the last battle?” Byleth said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. 

Felix shrugged. “I’m not sure I can, professor. I was unconscious for most of it.” He paused. He didn’t like ending it on that note, so he quickly added, “I blame the swordsman. He distracted me.”

Byleth maintained her stare, and her expression barely changed. But her nose twitched slightly. It was an expression she made a lot during seminars, particularly when she was talking to Felix. He hadn’t bothered to figure out exactly what it meant.

“I’m aware of that,” she said flatly. “Would you like to explain what you were doing before you were unconscious?” 

The professor was like that, sometimes. She asked absurd questions that didn’t really matter, and Felix always felt stupider for having to answer them, even though he wasn’t the one asking absurd questions. 

“I was focused on the battle. Obviously,” he said. “There was a mage in the trees – Annette was certain the fog was of magical means.”  He shrugged easily. “I put two and two together. It wasn’t hard.”

“What you did,” Byleth said, her syllables becoming increasingly clipped as she spoke. “Was run ahead of the group into an unscouted forest. In low visibility conditions. By yourself.”

It was the most Felix had heard her speak in a single breath. And he had to admit, there wasn’t much he could argue with. She had a fairly accurate assessment of the situation.

“Correct,” he said. “Can I go now?”

Byleth’s nostrils flared slightly. Felix wondered if that was maybe not the right question to ask. 

“I won’t get hit by a mage next time,” he said. “I was distracted. It won’t happen again.”

“It certainly won’t,” Byleth agreed. She stood up, flexing her hands into fists a couple of times before pointing towards the door. “I have a new assignment for you.”

“A new assignment?” Felix echoed. “You mean like a mission?”

“What? No,” Byleth said, frowning. “A new formation. For when we’re in battle.”

“I’ve already told you – I don’t like leading battalions,” Felix said. “I don’t need to be responsible for keeping anyone else alive.”

“I agree with that.”

“Good.”

“So I’m assigning someone to keep you alive.”

“What,” Felix said. There was a ringing silence in the room around them, so he repeated it again: “What.”

“It has to be someone with a good head for strategy,” Byleth mumbled, flipping through her notes. “And somebody who can keep up with you in battle.”

“No one can keep up with me in –”

“And someone you respect,” Byleth said. “With good leadership skills.”

Felix could feel his blood run cold. The professor wasn’t joking. He wasn’t even sure she knew what a joke was. And from the things she was describing, she was surely describing – 

“I do not respect the boar,” Felix snapped, slamming his hands on the desk. “This is a terrible idea. You can’t just tie me to Dimitri during battle.”

“Dimitri? Certainly not,” Byleth said, raising her eyebrow slightly and making another note on the parchment she’d landed on. “He has enough to worry about. And this assignment calls for subtlety.”

“Then – not Ingrid. Not Sylvain.” Felix paused, then narrowed his eyes as he glared down at the professor. “Not you.”

“You ask too many questions,” Byleth said. “Go eat lunch. I’ll see you on the training grounds this afternoon. Oh, and Felix?”

“What?” Felix mumbled. He felt very much as if he’d lost the argument without even having a chance to make the argument.

Byleth finished whatever she was writing with a flourish and a dramatic jab of her quill. She stared up at Felix now, expressionless.

“Tell Annette I want to talk to her.”

* * * 

“What did you do,” Annette demanded through gritted teeth.

Annette barely came up to Felix’s shoulder, but he still took a step back out of some sort of instinctual self-preservation. He glanced frantically over his shoulder, but the professor would not be any help – she was striding out of the training grounds as if showing up with unsuspecting mages and shoving them in Felix’s direction was a perfectly normal afternoon activity.

“What did you tell her,” Annette hissed again. She was keeping her voice low, although there was no one else on the training grounds who could overhear them. “It was about the boxes, wasn’t it? About how I run into everything? Or it – it wasn’t about the songs, was it, Felix? You promised!”

“Obviously not,” said Felix. He wasn’t even going to bother with the obvious – that he hadn’t promised Annette anything, and had no intention to do so in the future. “What did the professor tell you?” he asked.

“That I’m supposed to – I don’t know – follow you around and keep you safe on the battlefield. Like some sort of stupid personal guard.”

“What does that have to do with piles of steaks and cakes and –”

“I don’t know!” Annette yelped loudly. She looked wildly around the empty training grounds, and then dropped her voice to a loud hiss again. “I can’t possibly understand your villainous mind, Felix.”

“Sure,” Felix said. He wasn’t in the mood to argue. “Well, I think the guard idea is stupid, too. You can stay on the back lines with the other mages, and –”

“Absolutely not.” 

Annette took another step closer to Felix. Her hands were clenched into fists, and Felix took another, larger step back. He could easily dodge if he knew the punch was coming, but Annette was hard to predict.

Impossible to predict, really.

“Do you know what the professor said about my Reason essay on the applications of theoretical magicks last week?” Annette demanded. “She said it was ‘pretty interesting.’” 

“Oh,” Felix said. “Sorry.”

“What are you talking about? That’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to me. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Annette raised her fists up, her eyes filled with determination. “I’m not going to throw that kind of praise away just because you don’t know how to follow basic instructions.” 

“Um – I don’t –” Felix cleared his throat, then tried again. “I don’t think I want to be a part of this. Thanks.”

“Well, too bad, Felix Fraldarius!” Annette punched the air energetically. “I’m going to be the best guard you’ve ever seen! I’m going to be – pretty interesting! Very interesting, even! Just you wait!”  

This afternoon had already become far too interesting for Felix’s taste. But he wasn’t going to argue with Annette about that.

“Fine,” Felix said. “You’re my guard now. Swords or axes?”

“Swords or – what?” Annette asked. She wrinkled her brow in confusion, and Felix wondered if she’d been expecting more of a fight about this. Or if she really didn’t understand him.

He decided to assume the latter. “Swords or axes?” Felix repeated. “Dominic territory is renowned for its axe users, I know. But those are heavy. Slow. Hard to balance with a shield. You might be better off with a sword if your goal is protection and intervention.”

“Okaaay, but –” Annette dragged out the first word and cut the second one off a bit too quickly. She looked down at her hands, then flicked her fingers, sending off a short burst of harmless green light towards Felix. “I don’t really use weapons. I’m a magic specialist, remember?” 

Felix snorted, batting the wind magic away with his hand. It felt like brushing his hand through the branches of a pine tree. He watched the light dissipate.

“I have no doubt you’re a competent mage, but you want to be a guard,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Mages need guards more often than not; they don’t have any defense on the front lines. Axes or swords? You’ll need one if you’re going to keep up with me.”

“I guess . . . swords?” Annette said uncertainly. She bit her lip, thinking it over. “No, axes!” she said quickly. “Axes. That’s what everyone in Dominic does.”

“Sure,” Felix shrugged. He was proficient in both, so it didn’t really make a difference to him. “Let’s go, then.”

“Huh?” Annette asked, following after him as he strode across the grounds to the back corner, where the weapons were kept.

“Let’s spar,” Felix said. “If you’re going to do this guard thing, you might as well do it right.”

Felix crossed his arms and examined the lineup of training axes leaning against the far wall of the training grounds. The one he’d been using last week had a large dent in it – Caspar or Raphael had been using it, probably. Felix rolled his eyes and reached for a smaller, more compact throwing axe. 

“Here,” he said, holding it out and dropping it into Annette’s outstretched hands. “This’ll work.”

To Annette’s credit, she caught the handle of the axe with little problem. But the weight of the axe threw her off-balance, and she pitched forward, letting the axe clang into the dirt below them.

“Huh. Too heavy?” Felix asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope! Fine! It’s fine,” Annette said. She grasped the axe with both hands, adjusting her grip slightly, and then heaved it over her shoulder with a loud grunt. 

It went flying too far backwards, sending Annette flying with it. Felix dove forward to catch her by the shoulders and push her back up into standing position. The axe wrenched out of Annette’s grasp, but stayed upright, its head buried in the dirt behind her.

“Probably too heavy,” Felix said.

“I don’t get it,” Annette said with a pout. “My uncle’s let me hold Crusher a few times, and that thing is huge. I should be good at this!” 

Felix frowned. “Let’s try swords,” he said, grabbing the axe and hanging it up on the weapons rack. He grabbed a sword in its place. “Much lighter, much easier to maneuver. Probably best for your height and weight, anyways.”

Annette’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at this, but she took the training sword from Felix silently.

“Good,” Felix said. Annette clutched the sword with both hands, looking more like a chipmunk holding an acorn than a knight preparing for battle, but she was at least able to pick it up. That was a starting place. Felix turned towards the training grounds and waved Annette to follow him. “Come on, let’s get started,” he said shortly.

But Annette didn’t even have to try a first swing for Felix to see this wasn’t going to work.

“Not like that; your stance is all wrong,” he said. “Your grip is all wrong. Who taught you swordsmanship?”

“I’ve practiced with Mercie a couple of times – she wants to  take the examination soon,” Annette said nervously, shuffling her feet and moving her hands and fixing nothing at all. “And Dimitri said that he would –”

“Never mind,” Felix said quickly. “Just – ugh – hold it like this.”

He pushed Annette’s hands into place, adjusting her grip on the sword. Annette’s fingers were jumpy, and her flinching made small adjustments hard. But eventually, Felix managed to nudge her fingers into the proper position to grip the sword properly.

“Good,” Felix muttered, and Annette took a deep breath and stood up a little straighter.

But the moment he took a step back and Annette raised the sword, everything seemed off again.

“It’s your stance, not just your grip,” Felix said. “No – no! Don’t lose the grip. But turn your feet in. Anyone can knock you off balance if you stand like that.”

He sighed as Annette turned her feet in the wrong direction, sending her even more off balance.

“I thought you’d be more practiced at this,” Felix said. “It’s not that different from fencing, you know. And you’re pretty good at fencing foot –”

He had to take a step back as Annette swung her sword at him. She missed, of course, and the sword went flying out of her hands, landing with a thunk in the dirt a few feet away.

“I told you to watch your grip,” Felix said. 

“Felix Fraldarius,” Annette said through gritted teeth. She had her hands on her hips now, and she took a threatening step towards him. “You promised you wouldn’t bring up the fencing footwork, or the greenhouse, or any of the songs. You promised!” 

“I don’t think I promised that,” Felix said. “I definitely did not promise that.”

“Villain! Why can’t you just agree with me?” Annette demanded. “I have half a mind to march back to Professor Byleth’s office and tell her that we’ll never work as partners, never ever, because I could never work with someone as awful and villainous as you.”

Felix thought she was taking things a little far. Still, it was hard to argue on the fundamentals.

He shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been saying,” he said. “Glad to hear we’re finally on the same page.”

“Oh – you’re impossible,” Annette said. “We are not on the same page. I’m going to the library to study for my mage exam. And once I pass it, I’m going to be the most dazzling, impressive, exceptional bodyguard that you have ever seen.”

She turned on her heel and marched towards the exit of the training grounds, not even bothering to put away her sword. Before quite making it to the doors, however, she remembered something important and turned back around quickly, pointing at Felix accusingly.

“And don’t you dare follow me to argue,” she said. “You’ll just distract me from my studies.”

It was honestly shocking how loudly Annette was able to slam the doors behind her.

Felix stared at the doors for a few moments after she left, blinking in the late afternoon sunlight. The training ground felt uncomfortably silent and empty now. Particles of dust still floated above the training sword, slowly falling to the ground. Felix wandered over to the sword and picked it up, giving it a few experimental swings. It would do for this afternoon’s training.

“She’ll get over it,” he said under his breath.

He swung the sword out in a hit against an imaginary opponent. As usual, his form was perfect. 

Chapter Text

Annette did not get over it.

Days went by, then weeks, but Annette remained steadfast in not forgiving Felix. She sat on the opposite side of the classroom during lecture, shooting Felix dirty looks whenever he raised his hand to argue with Ingrid about weapons or strategy. On the training grounds and scouting missions, she adopted a stance of dignified silence. Felix preferred to work without bothersome conversation, but Annette punctuated the silence with aggrieved sighs every few minutes, which she then refused to elaborate on. Worst of all, she didn’t sing, or even hum – she just sighed and glared.

Felix would have gladly ignored all of this, but Professor Byleth continued to insist that Annette act as Felix’s guard. She paired them together on the training grounds and sent Felix to the back lines during routine missions. She barked Felix’s name when he strayed too far from the group, and gave Annette silent, unsmiling nods after battle, which Annette seemed to cherish for some inexplicable reason. It was enough for Annette to grab Felix’s arm after the last battle and ask in an excited whisper if he thought things had gone well, before she remembered that she was mad at him, at which point she muttered something about his villainous nature under her breath before running off to join Ashe and Mercedes on the march back to Garreg Mach.

Still, Felix wasn’t going to let this absolutely ridiculous scheme from the professor stand in the way of his ambitions. He was at Garreg Mach to hone his skills with the sword, not to make friends with overly sincere and enthusiastic mages.

Felix allowed himself a temporary moment of victory, therefore, when he managed to disarm Sylvain in a sparring match that evening, sending both the lance and its user flying across the training grounds.

“Enough! Enough!” Sylvain said from the ground, holding his empty hands up in surrender. “And stop smirking like that. Women don’t find it attractive.”

Felix rolled his eyes as he strode over to the lance, which had been flung quite dramatically and at quite a distance in the opposite direction. “What women find attractive has never once influenced my path. Another match?”

“Saints, Fe, it’s well past sunset,” Sylvain said. “Let’s call it a day. Everyone else has.”

Felix scowled, looking around the empty training grounds.

“Fine,” he said finally. “But don’t be late to morning practice tomorrow. You’re slipping.”

“No promises,” Sylvain said cheerfully. He got to his feet, gingerly brushing himself off. “And I’m not slipping. It’s not my fault you’ve been absolutely out of control lately.”

“Out of control?” Felix repeated.

“Training at all hours, challenging anyone who looks at you to a sparring match, hitting the training dummy like it personally offended you,” Sylvain offered, counting the examples on his fingers. “I know that you’re you and everything, but something’s gotten under your skin.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Felix said.

“Is it Annette?” Sylvain asked.

“Shut up. No.” Felix hung up the training sword neatly in its place and reached for his own, personal sword. It was sharper, anyways. He might need that if Sylvain kept talking.

Sylvain didn’t notice this. He continued, “Because it kind of seems like you’ve been weird since the professor paired you up with Annette.” He strolled over to the weapons rack, lazily resting his hands behind his head, elbows outward. “What’s going on with that, anyways? You’re her apprentice or something? Ingrid explained the details to me, but I wasn’t really listening.”

“I’m not being – I’m being completely normal. All the time,” Felix snapped. “And I’m not her apprentice. The professor has some half-brained idea that I need a personal guard.”

“Ah.” Sylvain said. He tilted his head, looking at Felix carefully.

“For no reason,” Felix added. “I’m fine on my own.”

“Sure,” Sylvain said with an unconvincing smile. “That explains why you’re together on the battlefield. But that doesn’t explain why you two keep glaring and grumbling and trying to one-up each other. Is that why you insist on training this late?”

“No.”

“Hoping to impress her?”

“No,” Felix repeated. “I always train this late. And Annette – if she wants to impress me, she has a funny way of showing it.”

“I’m just saying. The way you two are staring and smoldering and sighing at each other. On the battlefield, no less.” Sylvain winked, and Felix felt an almost overwhelming urge to hit him with his sword. “I don’t know if you want to kiss her or fistfight her in front of the whole class.”

Felix scoffed. “I do not want to fistfight Annette Dominic,” he said quickly. “Unless it’s a sanctioned sparring match.”

There was a long pause. Felix was fairly sure he could hear an owl somewhere in the distance.

“So,” Sylvain said finally. “Kissing is on the table, then?”

Felix did raise his sword, this time. And Sylvain, the coward, quickly raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing!” he said with a laugh. “Just – you should talk to her, you know? I’m sure you kids can work something out.”

“That’s the worst advice I’ve ever heard in my life, ever,” Felix growled, lowering his sword. “And why would I take advice from you, anyways?”

He sheathed his sword and pushed past Sylvain, not bothering to listen to his prattling reply. A small part of Felix was relieved that no one else was on the training grounds to see him stomp off. The last thing he needed was it getting back to Ingrid that he’d lost another argument with Sylvain.

Anyways, he hadn’t lost. He’d just left. That was different.

The monastery grounds were quiet and peaceful at this time of night. The knights of Seiros had been busy investigating some threat against the church, and though there weren’t official curfew hours in place, there was a sense of concern lingering in the air that seemed to discourage moonlit walks and midnight rendezvous. Felix was glad. His classmates had been entirely too frivolous at the beginning of the year, more excited about meeting new people and making conversation than about training and becoming more disciplined on the battlefield. He much preferred the somber quiet of the night than the giggling and gossip about the Fraldarius heir that followed him whenever he walked by groups of students during the day.

Felix spotted such a group near the stairs leading down to the lower dormitories, standing close together and talking quietly. He didn’t recognize anyone, but they seemed to be fellow students. One of the girls looked over towards him, and Felix turned quickly, walking towards the classrooms instead. That route was just as fast, and he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone.

Felix stalked past the Blue Lions classroom, which was of course empty this late in the evening. There was a bright moon out, casting an eerie, ethereal light over the grounds of Garreg Mach. Felix hurried past a statue of a long-dead saint, taking care not to look up. The tricks of the moonlight sometimes made it seem like the statues were smiling as you passed them, and Felix wasn’t looking for any miracles or blessings tonight.

When Felix first heard the singing, he flinched, as if St. Cethleann really had noticed him passing. But he quickly shook off the irrational nerves, and the music remained. Felix paused, tilting his head to listen better. It was a single voice, high and clear – a pretty voice, he realized vaguely. Felix turned, trying to ascertain where the song was coming from. He took a step closer to the dining commons and realized that there was still a light shining from the back window. Someone was still working in the kitchens, even this late at night.

Working late, and singing.

Felix didn’t realize he was walking towards the song until he got close enough to properly hear the lyrics. By then, he was standing in the doorway of the dining hall, and the voice was unmistakable.

Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble

Clean the cauldron, on the double

Felix frowned. Now that he could hear the lyrics, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d heard them wrong.

He pushed the kitchen door open so that he could hear them better.

Annette had her back to him, and she evidently didn’t hear him come in, as she didn’t turn at the sound of the door. She was standing at the sink, singing loudly. Felix wondered what she could possibly be making at this time of night. He noted the giant cauldron – no, soup pot, her lyrics were already getting into his head again – perched on the counter next to her. Tomorrow’s breakfast, perhaps? Did they eat soup for breakfast in Dominic?

Felix tilted his head, listening to the song and looking at the soup pot. It might have been a spell of some sort, if spells these days used a lot of soap and water instead of newt eyes or whatever. The tune was pleasant enough, though, and the next verse might explain what the spell was for.

At any rate, it was an engrossing enough melody that he didn’t notice how precariously the soup pot sat at the edge of the counter until it began wobbling. And by then, it was too late.

“Annette – watch the pot!” Felix said, raising his voice to be heard over the music and the water.

“And I scrub scrub scrub and – huh? Felix? Wah!”

Annette turned mid-chorus, and the shock on her face quickly turned to annoyance, which quickly turned to panic as she knocked into the pot. It wobbled wildly a few more times before plummeting off the counter and towards the ground.

The professor’s hackneyed plan to teach Felix teamwork or whatever may have been a waste of time, but Felix had to admit it had taught him a thing or two about reflexes and Annette: mainly, that you needed good reflexes if you were going to spend any time around Annette. So by the time the pot finally tipped over the edge, its contents pouring to the ground, Felix had already rushed forward, throwing himself towards Annette and pushing her out of the way.

Annette yelped and fell backwards, landing with a thud on the ground, safely away from the cauldron. Felix stumbled to the ground, landing on one knee. Quickly, he threw his arms over his head and ducked down, trying to shield himself from whatever boiling potion Annette had been concocting that evening.

He did a pretty poor job, he realized, as dirty, soapy water pour down from the pot, soaking him.

“What the – ugh!” Felix spluttered. He shook his head, trying to get the water out of his eyes. The now-empty pot had landed directly behind him, and it rolled merrily away from him as he turned to glare at it. He decided to turn and glare at Annette, instead. “What is this? Do you use lukewarm water for some spell or potion, or something?”

“What? No, it’s not used for – are you making fun of me?” Annette demanded, crossing her arms more tightly in front of her. “I’m on kitchen duty this week, with Hilda. I was just letting the pot soak. Haven’t you done dishes before?”

“Um,” Felix said. He usually traded kitchen duty with Ingrid, when he could. She liked eating the leftovers.

“And you were spying on me again, weren’t you?” Annette demanded.

“I was trying to keep the giant pot of scalding water from falling on you!” Felix said.

“Before that! And it wasn’t scalding, it was soaking.” Annette gestured wildly towards the other side of the kitchen. “I didn’t even light a fire. And even if I did, it would have been all the way over there!”

“Well, if it wasn’t a potion, you shouldn’t have been singing about casting spells and things!” Felix protested. He crossed his arms, trying not to shiver. The sleeves of his shirt were sticking to his skin uncomfortably.

“Aha!” Annette yelped triumphantly. She sat up on her knees, looming over Felix, and stuck an accusatory finger in his face. Felix flinched backwards and bumped his elbow against the empty soup pot. “I knew it,” Annette said, over the loud clang of metal. “I knew you were eavesdropping! Trying to find a new reason to make fun of me. You cad. You villain. You absolute –”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Annette broke off mid-sentence and let out a small squeak, her hands flying to her mouth. She sat up with such perfect, attentive posture that Felix knew who it was even before he turned around.

“Oh! Hello, Professor,” Annette said. “I’m so, so sorry you walked in on all this mess. I’ll clean it up right away, I promise.”

Byleth stood in the doorway, leaning slightly against the door frame, her arms cross as she stared down at them both. Even this late at night, she had a sword strapped to one side and a dagger on the other. She could have been coming from training or sparring or praying or gardening. Felix never really had a good sense of her schedule.

At the moment, Byleth seemed perplexed by theirs.

“A bit late for kitchen duty, I would think,” she said. “And aren’t you on stables this week, Fraldarius?”

“Oh, I know! I’m sorry, Professor,” Annette said quickly, before Felix could answer. “I got caught up in the library, and Hilda said she was going to trade with someone to get them to start dishes, but I guess she forgot, so I’m awfully behind now, and I promise I’ll be done before –”

“It’s my fault,” Felix said. “I knocked a pot of water over. I’m just helping – clean things up.”

“Hm,” Byleth agreed. “I was thinking your methods were rather unusual. And ineffective. And . . . damp.”

“I’m sorry,” Annette apologized again.

“Don’t be,” Byleth said, waving her hand carelessly. “I’m glad to see you two are finally working together. After last week’s training exercise, I was worried.”

“I’m sor –” Annette began again, but evidently even she could hear how ridiculous another apology sounded, because she cut off before she could finish it.

Byleth didn’t appear to notice. She tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she glared at Felix.

“Mission tomorrow. You should both be in bed,” she said. “We don’t have good intel; we need to be prepared for anything.”

Annette leaned forward desperately. “I know – I got distracted in the library, and I thought Hilda was going to  - I’m just behind, Professor. I’ll still be my best for the mission tomorrow, I promise –”

“It’s not even that late,” Felix snapped, crossing his arms and glaring back at Byleth. “We’ll go to bed once the dishes are done. Why are you up this late?”

Neither Annette’s flurry of apologies nor Felix’s defensive accusations seemed to rattle Byleth at all. She leaned against the door frame, looking almost bored.

“I was going over strategies for tomorrow with Seteth,” she said with a shrug. “Like I said. Hard to know what the enemy has planned. And the Holy Mausoleum is difficult terrain to patrol. He wants to disturb as little as possible.” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “I’ll be in the front with Dimitri, so we can take care of any enemies that show their face during the Rite. Annette –” she looked down at Annette, and Felix was certain she didn’t glare half as much as when she was looking at him. “I thought you could wait on the back lines with Mercedes, in case anyone gets injured. Your heal spell is coming along nicely.”

“I – oh! Thank you, Professor,” Annette said, beaming.

For a moment, Felix felt a flicker of the same enthusiasm. He was terrible at healing spells. The last time he went to one of Mercedes’s seminars, he accidently set the bandage on fire with a lightning bolt instead of healing the cut on Sylvain’s arm.

“So.” Felix coughed and cleared his throat. “If Annette is on the back lines, where should I be? If fighting breaks out, I mean.”

Byleth looked at him silently for a few seconds, as if she was trying to understand the question.

“On the back lines,” she said  flatly. “With your guard. Annette.”

“I don’t know any healing spells,” Felix pointed out.

Byleth shrugged. ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way to pass the time,” she said.

That evidently counted as a goodnight, because she stood up straight and gave Annette a final nod before turning away. Felix felt his heart sink. He leaned his head back against the counter and closed his eyes, wondering if he could skip the mission entirely and spend the day at the training grounds instead.

“Actually – Professor?”

Felix and Byleth both turned sharply to look at Annette. She seemed a bit startled by the sudden attention, and she stared at her folded hands in her lap, not at the professor, as she spoke.

“I was thinking – maybe it would be better if Felix and I were off to the side of the group during the battle. Or a little separate from the rest of the group,” she said.

Byleth frowned. “You’re a capable mage, Annette. And I’ll be there. You don’t have to be worried about whatever happens tomorrow, if you’re nervous.”

Annette looked up. “It’s not that!” she said quickly. “It’s just – I’ve been looking at maps of the Holy Mausoleum. We have a few in the library. Tomas helped me find them.

“Interesting,” Byleth said. And she really did sound interested, even if her expression remained unchanged.

“And there are an awful lot of – corridors, said alleyways, things like that,” Annette said. She was speaking faster now, almost tripping over her own words as she hurried to get her ideas out. “I’m just thinking – someone should make sure that there’s no one hiding in the shadows, you know? I can move pretty quickly; I’d be able to patrol the area without taking up a lot of notice.”

Byleth didn’t reply, appearing to think over Annette’s plan. It was impossible to tell what she thought of it from her unchanging expression.

“And I’d take Felix with me!” Annette added eagerly. “I guess. If you think – that’s a good idea.”

“Yes. It is.” Byleth nodded. “Better to be on the offense than the defense. We’ll find them before they find us. Good thinking, Annette.”

“Oh! Well.” Annette smiled gleefully at Byleth, as if it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.

Byleth pointed down at Felix. “Stay to the left tomorrow. Do whatever Annette tells you,” she said. “And remind me to not put either of you on kitchen duty anymore.”

“Fine,” Felix muttered, crossing his arms more tightly and staring at the floor. He might as well join the mission tomorrow. The training grounds would probably be closed for the Rite of Rebirth, regardless.

Byleth raised her eyebrow, looking over them one last time, and Felix suddenly remembered that he was completely soaked and sitting in a puddle of soapy water. He didn’t feel embarrassed, exactly, but he was rather glad when Byleth left without asking any further questions. He didn’t feel like talking about it anymore. And besides, the water was beginning to feel uncomfortably cold.

“What a disaster,” Annette mumbled, leaning her head against the counter behind her. “Do you think the professor will forget about this soon?”

Felix frowned. It seemed like an obvious answer, but things weren’t always obvious with Annette.

“I mean,” he said finally, after thinking it over for a few seconds. “Probably not.” He gingerly stood, taking care not to slip in the soapy water surrounding him. Instinctively, he tried to brush himself off, but he just ended up pushing around the wet, cold fabric of his shirt sleeves.

“Ugh,” Annette said. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her hands. “You’d better go – hit something with a sword or whatever,” she said. “I know it’s too much to ask you to forget.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Felix said. “I mean. I’m not going to forget, obviously –” he ignored a despondent wail from Annette at this “– but I’m also not going to make you clean all this up by yourself. Come on. It’s getting late.”

Felix held out has hand, and after a second or two, Annette begrudgingly reached out and took it. He pulled her to her feet. She stumbled forward, as usual, but Felix quickly caught her by the shoulders before she could plummet back down in the opposite direction.

“Thanks,” Annette mumbled, smoothing her skirt much more effectively than Felix had been able to do with his drenched outfit.

“Tch,” Felix mumbled in reply. Annette seemed to understand what he meant.

It didn’t take them as long to clean up as Felix thought. For all her clumsiness, Annette was remarkably methodical and efficient when it came to setting things back in order. She rolled her eyes at Felix’s mopping technique (although he couldn’t see what he was doing differently than her), but she seemed generally content to boss him around from task to task as they gradually set the kitchen back to rights. By the time they got back to the dishes, she almost seemed cheerful.

Felix halfway hoped she’d resume her dish-washing song. But no such luck.

“I just wish it had been – Ashe, or Seteth, or Lady Rhea. Who walked in,” Annette said as she scrubbed angrily at a stubbornly-dirty plate. “Someone who wouldn’t care.”

“I don’t think the professor really cares,” Felix said. He dried off a fork and stacked it neatly with the others. His stack of forks was getting pretty tall. He wondered if Annette would manage to knock it over from two feet away, and he nudged it a few more inches away from her. “She didn’t look that interested,” he added.

“No, but – yes. But – ugh!” Annette slammed the now clean plate down, and Felix flinched. It didn’t break, though. “I just don’t want her to think I’m some weird girl who can’t do anything right."

“I don’t see why you care so much about what the professor thinks,” Felix said. “Like, you didn’t need to suggest a different battle formation just because she put you on the back lines.” He was out of forks, so he turned his attention to the giant soup pot he’d knocked over earlier. He reached down to get the edges inside the pot, leaning partway into it. “You’re smart. You’re good at magic stuff. You don’t need her to tell you that.”

“You don’t have to try to make me feel better, just to be nice,” Annette said. It was an accusation no one had ever thrown at Felix, but he didn’t try to correct here. “And besides, I didn’t suggest that to impress Professor Byleth.”

“Sure,” Felix muttered.

“I didn’t!” Annette said. Felix glanced over at her, but she was concentrating on washing spoons, and she glared at the flatware instead of him. “Believe it or not, I did it for you.”

“What?” Felix asked, frowning.

Annette sighed. “Think about it, Felix,” she said. “Patrolling the perimeter may not be as exciting as running out into the front lines to get yourself killed –”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Felix said. Annette ignore him.

“But it’s a whole lot better than staying back with the healers.” She scowled, scrubbing a spoon with far too much force, despite the fact that it looked almost completely clean. “We've been working together for a month, and all you do is sigh and glare and complain. I know you hate working with me. This will at least give you something to do, so I don’t feel like some colossal disappointment the entire time.”

She slammed the thoroughly cleaned spoon on the counter beside her with such force that Felix’s stack of forks collapsed, clattering across the countertop in a cheery jangle. Annette didn’t appear to notice, preferring to concentrate on washing the next spoon with just as much concentration. After a moment, Felix picked up the first spoon and began to dry it.

“Byleth’s right, then. That was pretty smart,” he said after a moment. Then, because that didn’t really seem to be enough, he added, “Thanks.”

He glanced over at Annette. She was still scrubbing dishes with far too much diligence, but she looked less likely to break one over his head. If he didn’t know better, Felix would have thought she almost smiled for a moment.

“Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head,” she said. “I’m still in charge, remember.”

“I couldn’t forget it if I tried,” Felix said. He took the next spoon from Annette and began drying it.

It would be a boring mission tomorrow, he was certain. And things would be a lot more effective if he could just patrol on his own. But despite the almost-breaking plates and collapsing piles of forks and precarious pots of water plunging to the ground, Felix couldn’t help but feel calmer helping Annette finish off kitchen duty. It was almost as soothing as a good round of training. So as far as boring missions went, maybe this one wouldn’t be so bad.

“Does the dish washing song have a second verse?” Felix asked quietly, stacking a plate and reaching for one of the last ones to dry.

Annette scowled and flicked a handful of water at him.

But she didn’t really look that annoyed. And he was already soaked. So Felix didn’t really mind.

Chapter Text

Dimitri was the one to challenge the Death Knight to battle, and he ultimately prevailed.

Felix found this frustrating. He was certain he matched the mysterious knight in strength as well as skill, and after a few minutes of watching him fight, Felix craved the challenge of an opponent with some actual talent.

But Felix was too far away to challenge him, and the knight disappeared before he could even approach.

“Don’t worry about him,” Annette hissed, grabbing Felix’s elbow before he could run too far ahead. “We’re on patrol, remember? We’ve got work to do back here.”

If there was work to do, Felix didn’t see why he was the person who should do it, but he let Annette grab his arm and pull him towards the far end of the Mausoleum, away from the rest of the group.

The Holy Mausoleum was larger than Felix expected, far larger than seemed possible, tucked away in such a desolate corner of Garreg Mach Monastery. The ceilings were high, and stone pillars stretched down a central pathway, leading towards an elevated platform. But Annette wasn’t interested in the platform – or in the myriad of mysterious enemies that had swarmed the central area. Instead, she dragged Felix between a set of pillars, into the shadows at the far end of the Mausoleum.

It was creepy, Felix could admit that much. They walked past coffins lit by eternal, magical candlelight, and Felix wondered who in these smaller, humbler graves. Saints? Soldiers? Felix hadn’t poured through books the way Annette had, and he didn’t need a lecture about paying attention in class, so he wasn’t going to ask her.

Felix could hear a clash of iron a few rows over, and he immediately froze, grabbing his sword and turning his head towards the sound. But Annette grabbed his elbow before he could run towards it.

“I told you,” she hissed. “If they did any research on the layout of the mausoleum, they’re going to try to flank us from the sides.

“So we need to stop them,” Felix snapped back.

“We’ll catch the stragglers,” Annette said. “The ones our front lines don’t stop.”

Felix scowled but didn’t say anything, following behind her as she led him down a narrow walkway. Dimitri was in a mood, and the entire rest of the class seemed on edge down here. There weren’t going to be stragglers.

Annette pressed the fingers of her right hand together, then flexed them outward. A small sphere of fire appeared, stretching like a spiderweb between her outstretched fingers. It was brighter than the candlelight, and it cast strange shadows on the coffins and pillars as they walked. The far wall of the mausoleum came into view; the stone bricks were tinted with a fiery gold in the dim underground lighting.

Annette walked confidently, holding her hand at eye-level to illuminate her path. When she got to the end of the row, she turned, walking deeper into the mausoleum before immediately turning again to head down the next narrow walkway. Felix hurried after her, lingering at the far edge of the room. He could see figures in the distance if he squinted, but the light from Annette’s magic was moving away, and he couldn’t quite make out who they were. At any rate, they were moving away from him. Felix scowled, watching them disappear into the darkness, wondering if he was imagining the faint sound of Ingrid scolding Sylvain, unsure if it was friend or foe in the dark.

“Come on,” Annette called over her shoulder, and Felix turned away to follow her again.

“What’s the goal here?” Felix asked as he caught up to her. They’d been whispering before, some combination of the nerves of the battle and unspoken holiness of the place itself, but as Felix adjusted to the environment, speaking softly seemed increasingly ridiculous. He raised his voice slightly. “Are we just going to wander by until we look at every coffin?”

“No, Felix, we’ve been over this!” Annette said. “We’ll keep the perimeter safe. It’s better than following the front line at a distance, isn’t it?”

“Whatever,” Felix muttered. He looked up at the pillars rising around them. The ceiling was high enough that he couldn’t see it, and the pillars gradually faded into the shadows above them. Felix was having trouble figuring out how this chamber fit alongside the rest of the monastery.

He realized he should have focused his attention on the path ahead of him when he almost crashed directly into Annette, who had stopped in her tracks and swiveled around to glare up at him. Felix took a hasty step back, narrowly avoiding the fiery light in Annette’s outstretch palm.

“You don’t have to be such a jerk about this, you know,” she said, thrusting her hand forward accusingly as she scowled even more intensely. “I know you hate working with me, but it’s not like this whole guard thing was my idea. It’s your fault for always running off like you don’t care what happens to you, even though you have so many friends that want to help you out.”

Felix took another step back, and his back hit against something solid. He flinched, but he saw quickly that he’d hit a pillar, not a coffin. The realization only made him feel somewhat better.

Still, he crossed his arms and leaned more fully against the pillar. He looked down his nose at Annette, who was standing much closer than he’d realized, her orb of fire magic sparking angrily at her fingertips.

“I don’t hate working with you,” he grumbled. He felt stupid saying it, when it was so obvious, but he’d take feeling stupid over being set on fire. “You’re pretty much the only person I like working with. If the professor had paired me with Sylvain or Dimitri, I would’ve switched classes or gone home by now. But I’m still here, wandering through these horrible catacombs, because it’s you. And you make things . . . bearable.”

“Oh!” Annette said. Even in the low firelight, Felix could see that her cheeks had turned a distinct shade of pink. “Oh. Well! Then you shouldn’t complain about me so much, villain!”

“I’m not complaining about you. I’m complaining to you. I’m complaining about this whole – strategy,” Felix said through gritted teeth. “It’s keeping you back, too, you know. You do best near the front lines; I do best by myself. Don’t pretend you like this any more than I do. I don’t think you should waste your time any more than I should.”

“But the professor thinks it’s a good idea,” Annette protested, her voice uncertain. The fire in her palm had eased slightly, and she flexed her fingers again, snuffing it out. She crossed her arms and looked away, evidently no longer interested in thrusting fingers and accusations in Felix’s face.

“I just don’t see the point in having us hang behind like this,” Felix said. “It’s not just me. The professor is also wasting your talent, keeping you back here.”

“Well!” Annette’s ears had turned even pinker. “I don’t know about that. I still have a lot to learn.”

“You’re the top mage in the class,” Felix said. “And you’re stuck back here where nothing ever happens.”

Annette didn’t get to reply to this, because it was at that moment the pillar Felix was leaning against decided to explode.

Annette shrieked and jumped backwards as shards of marble fell towards the ground. Felix dove forward, grabbing Annette by the shoulders and pushing her down. They both tumbled towards the ground as streak of purple light flew past them, the magic barely scraping across Felix’s back before crashing into another pillar.

Felix pulled Annette closer to him and twisted as they fell, tilting so that his shoulder hit the ground first. He held onto Annette as they rolled across the floor, landing a few feet away from the first explosion.

“Dark magic- that’s dark magic, Felix!” Annette said in a hurried whisper. Felix pushed himself up onto his elbows and peered into the hazy cloud of fog and dust that had appeared in the wake of the destruction. He could taste a familiar acidic taste at the back of his throat. He didn’t need Annette’s explanation to know she was right.

At the entrance to the Mausoleum – and the only exit out of it, now that Felix thought about it – he could make out three shadowy figures. They wore hooded robes and walked slowly through the fog. One of the figures held up their arm, and an outline of purple mage began to glow from above their hand.

Felix scrambled to his feet, his hand already grabbing his sword. He looked down to see Annette struggling to get up. He grabbed her by her elbow, yanking her to her feet. She still stumbled, falling against him for a moment before regaining her footing. Felix dropped her arm and stepped in front of her, drawing his sword as he did so.

“Stay back,” he told Annette, looking over his shoulder. To his horror, she had assumed an offensive position, magic already glowing at her fingertips. “Get behind a pillar; I’ll take care of this.”

“Felix!” Annette protested. “I’m not going to just leave you to –”

“They’re mages, Annette,” Felix cut her off. There wasn’t time for a debate. “They’re trained to resist your attacks. Save your magic for when it counts.”

Annette opened her mouth to protest, but she stopped after a few wordless sounds of annoyance. She scowled and crossed her arms.

“I can help,” she said finally, quietly.

“You can help by staying out of the way,” Felix said. He pushed her back towards the pillars. “I don’t need you getting hurt, too.”

There was another explosion as a pillar several feet away exploded in a similar shower of marble and decay. Felix gave Annette a final push and turned away from her, facing the approaching mages. He took a step forward, raising his sword carefully.

There were three mages, and the rest of the class was likely too far away to even realize they were there, let alone close enough to provide reinforcements. Felix was well and truly alone out here.

Finally, Felix thought, he would have a proper challenge.

Felix wasn’t an expert on dark magic – he certainly didn’t spend his afternoons reading through books on theoretical magicks, the way Annette did – but he knew enough to survive a combat scenario. Dark magic was dangerous, but imprecise and hard to aim. Felix suspected that was why the mages had aimed for the pillars. From such a distance, they would be able to hit something large and stationary. Anything else was pure chance.

He had no intention of giving them the chance.

Felix charged forward, angling towards the first mage, the one who had no doubt fired the first magic explosion. His footsteps echoed in the darkness, and the mage soon looked away from Annette’s hiding spot in the narrow alleyway behind the pillars. Magic appeared at the mages fingertips, a darkish purple orb that pulsated at the edges like a living organism. He raised the magic above his head and flung it with full force at Felix.

Felix ducked at the last minute, easily diving to the side to avoid the spell. It missed him by at least half a foot, flying over his head and dissipating before it could crash into the ceiling above him. Dangerous but imprecise, Felix repeated to himself. That weakness was the secret to winning this battle.

Felix darted forward, striking the mage with a swift slash of his sword. The mage stumbled back, injured, and flung another spell towards Felix. Felix dodged again, shifting to the side, but at quarters this close, the mage’s aim was somewhat better. The spell grazed Felix as it flew by him, and Felix felt a sharp pain to the side of his face. He pushed through the pain to strike again, this time with adrenaline and anger pushing him forward. The mage gasped slightly, falling to his knees.

Felix took a breath and took a step back, raising his sword for the final blow. But before he could act, smoke began to rise around the mage, seemingly coming up from the floor. Felix faltered for a moment, dropping his sword down in surprise. The mage looked up at him as the smoke began to rise around him. Even from behind the mask, Felix could tell the mage was looking him dead in the eye.

“You’ll never win,” the mage said, his voice hoarse and creaking.

The smoke swallowed him up, and the was a flash of purple light that briefly illuminated the entire room. Felix flinched in surprise, closing his eyes tightly together in reflex. He shook his head and refocused, raising his sword once more.

When he opened his eyes, the smoke was drifting away, and the mage was gone.

Felix swung around, looking desperately in the dark for the mage. Towards the entrance, he could see the all too familiar glow of purple as the remaining two mages hurried towards him, spells ready at their fingertips. But their companion was gone, vanished into the shadows, leaving only dust behind.

Felix scowled, and then winced. There was a sharp pain to the side of his forehead. He reached up and gingerly touched above his eyebrow. There was a cut there where the magic had grazed him before he could jump out of the way.

He wiped at the cut with the back of his hand. He couldn’t afford to be so careless next time. He needed to take out the other two mages before they managed to land a hit.

Felix glanced over his shoulder at the stone pillars that he’d left behind. Annette was nowhere to be seen. If she had any sense, she’d run back down the passageway to the corridor at the far edge of the mausoleum. With any luck, she could join the rest of the class and send reinforcements Felix’s way. And if she had any sense, she’d stay with Mercedes instead of trying to run back with the reinforcements.

He could only hope. But in case, she’d gotten away. And that was all that really mattered.

Felix could sense a change in the air, and he quickly turned back in time to see a sphere of dark magic flying towards him. He ducked out of the way, the spell barely missing as it flew past him. The edges of the spell stretched outwards, seeming to reach for him like tiny tendrils as they passed by.

Felix grimaced and turned back toward the mage, who was now only a few feet away from him. He was already conjuring up a second spell. Felix dove forward, slashing with his sword, but the mage jumped back at the last second, causing Felix to stumble past him.

Felix pivoted on his heel and turned back around to face the mage, just in time to dodge yet another spell. He could hear it make contact with a nearby wall, exploding into a sizzling puddle of goo.

Felix struck again, and this time his sword found its mark. The mage collapsed with a gasp, falling to his knees. Even in the dim light, Felix could make out the blood seeping through the mage’s robes at his side. He also quickly realized that dark smoke was beginning to rise around the mage, just as before.

They were cowards, desperate to run away instead of staying and finishing a fair fight. Felix held his sword out in front of him and stepped forward, stopping when the tip of the blade was fractions of an inch away from the mage’s chin.

“Don’t fight, and don’t try to run,” Felix said. “And I’ll let you live.”

For a moment, the smoke seemed to lessen, and the mage held his hands up. No magic glowed at his fingertips. Felix didn’t let his guard down, angling his sword even closer towards the mage, lest he try to retreat.

Then Felix felt a sharp, searing pain in his sword arm as an orb of dark magic crashed into him, sinking into his upper arm.

He stumbled to the side, barely holding on to his sword. From the corner of his vision, he could see a third and final mage emerging from the shadows, another magic attack balanced on the tips of his fingers.

Felix raised his sword, ready to fight. In the corner of his eye he could see the flash of purple light as the second mage disappeared into the smoke and shadows.

The final mage threw an orb of magic towards Felix just as Felix rushed forward, ready to strike.

His arm gave out mid swing, a second spasm of pain rushing from his shoulder to his fingers. He let go of the sword with a cry as the second sphere of dark magic crashed into him, and his legs gave away underneath him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Felix pushed himself up onto one elbow, his other arm too useless for balance. Pain mixed with nausea rushed through Felix, starting at his arm and radiating out to his entire body. He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. He needed to stand up. He needed to pick up his sword and fight. He needed to –

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Felix could hear the sound of footsteps. But he didn’t realize how close they were until he heard the clatter of metal – someone picking up his fallen sword.

He supposed it was a more fitting way to go than a dark magic attack.

But when he opened his eyes and looked up, it wasn’t the dark mage holding the sword and standing over him.

It was Annette. 

“Put down the sword, girl,” the mage hissed, his voice high and silvery. It was impossible to see his expression beneath his mask, but he tilted his head as he looked at Annette, which made him look infuriatingly, smugly amused. “It’s clear you don’t know how to use it.”

Annette held up the sword in front of her, more like a shield than a weapon. Even from the ground, Felix could see that it was shaking slightly.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said.

The mage took a step closer, holding out his hand. Dark, pulsating light began to appear around his fingertips. “You should be,” he said quietly.

Annette gripped the sword more tightly, raising it up so the hilt was practically at eye level. She didn’t move back. “I’m not afraid of you,” she repeated. “You should be afraid of me.”

“I don’t see why, if this is the level of swordsmanship the academy is producing.” The mage laughed then, softly, but in a pitch that echoed at the back of Felix’s skull.

“Because,” Annette said, taking a step forward. “I’m not a swordsman. I’m a mage.”

She threw the sword to the ground, and it landed with a clatter a few feet away from Felix. Felix didn’t have time to wince at such rough treatment of the blade – he knew better than to waste time.

He needed to get out of the way.

Felix pushed himself to his knees, then dove towards his sword, grabbing it and rolling away. He managed to close his eyes before the flash of light exploded above him. He could feel the rush of wind fly past him as Annette’s spell flew over him – wind magic, not fire or dark energy, but somehow just as powerful and twice as fast. Felix clutched his sword and stumbled to his feet, turning around just in time to see Annette unleash a second wind spell directly at the mage.

The wind lifted the mage into air and propelled him back several feet before slamming him into the ground. Felix limped forward as the mage pushed himself onto his feet, but Annette threw an arm out, gesturing that Felix stay back.

“Damnable girl,” the mage spat. “You think you have magic strong enough to best me?”

He flung a spell towards them. It was lopsided and unformed, clearly made with more haste than the mage was accustomed to, but still a venomous shade of purple. Felix’s arm pulsed in pain, as if the injury itself was reacting to the presence of the magic.

Annette slashed her arm in front of her, sending out another spell. Wind screamed in Felix’s ears, the flash of green light almost blinding. The dark magic spell veered wildly off course, caught in the sudden tornado. It exploded against a stone pillar on the opposite side of the Mausoleum.

Annette kept her arm up and looked over her shoulder for a brief moment to make eye contact with Felix.

“Get ready,” she said sharply, as if she was commanding a battalion of trained fighters who knew exactly what she was asking.

Felix was just one swordsman, bruised and bleeding, who had hardly survived the last round of attacks and could barely use his sword arm. But, at the very least, he somehow also knew exactly what Annette was asking.

Felix took his sword in his left hand, taking a small step back in preparation. The mage didn’t appear to notice; his attention was entirely on Annette.

Besides, the light from Annette’s next wind spell was so blinding in the darkness of the tomb that it would have been difficult to focus on anything else.

The angle of Annette’s spell was more difficult to track beyond the initial flash of light, as the spell itself seemed less tangible than either the sphere of poisonous energy or her other fire-based spells. Still, Felix could see that it clearly went wide, grazing against the mage’s left side and forcing him to dive to the right, unharmed by the attack.

“I’ve studied magic for longer than you’ve been alive, and you think a basic attack spell is enough to hurt me?” the mage demanded. His fingers began to glow with magic again.

 “You’re right,” Annette said flatly. “I guess I should have brought a sword.”

She dropped her arm, and Felix charged forward.

The mage turned to face Felix, but he was far too slow. Felix slashed his sword sideways. It didn’t have nearly the power of a strike made with his dominant hand, but it was enough. He hit the mage squarely across the chest, sending him stumbling him back once more.

The mage dropped to his knees, gasping for air, and smoke began to appear around the hem of his robe.

“No – stop! Who are you?” Felix demanded. “How can you –”

But it was too late. The smoke engulfed the mage, and there was a bright flash of purple light before he disappeared altogether. A wind spell shot through the empty air, dissipating the smoke entirely. There was no body left behind when the smoke cleared.

Felix turned quickly to see Annette standing a few feet away, another spell glowing at her fingertips.

“He’s gone,” she said, her voice hoarse. “They’re all gone.”

Felix stumbled over towards her. His ankle twinged with pain every time he put weight on it, but he tried to ignore this.

“The other two disappeared in the same way,” he said.

“Where did they go?” Annette asked. “How did they –?”

Felix reached out and grabbed her hand. He didn’t expect Annette to lace her fingers through his, but he let her

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Felix said. “But we don’t want to be here if they come back.”

Annette nodded, and Felix turned towards the front of the Mausoleum, pulling her after him.

After a minute or so, however, Felix lurched to a stop. Annette was holding tightly to his hand, and she dug her heels in, refusing to be pulled along after him. Felix turned back towards her, confused.

“Look at your arm, Felix,” Annette said, looking down to just above their clasped hands. “You can’t even hold a sword right now.”

It was true that Felix’s arm was not a welcome sight. Blood was seeping through the fabric of his shirt, staining it a red so dark that it practically looked black in the low lighting of the mausoleum. The fabric was ripped in several places, and Felix could see the injury the magic had left, some sickening mixture of fire, acid, and poison seeping into his skin.

Felix tried to jerk his hand away, but Annette held on tightly.

“I can hold a sword just fine,” Felix snapped. With his other hand, he waved his sword in the air a few times for good measure, to prove it. “See? Let’s rejoin the others; they may need our help.”

But Annette wasn’t convinced – and she didn’t let go.

“Dark magic isn’t like a normal injury, Felix – it can spread if it’s not attended to,” she said. “You can’t fight with this injury; that’s all that matters right now.” She dropped his hand and crossed her arms, looking up at him with a scowl, as if daring him to run off. “Besides, you agreed that I’m in charge, right? I listened to you when you told me to stay back – now, you listen to me.”

It was a bit of stretch – Felix had told Annette “stay hidden,” not “stay hidden until it’s time to throw yourself directly in front of an enemy” – but it wasn’t a point worth arguing over. Felix sighed and sheathed his sword.

“Fine,” he said. “But not here. Not out in the open. Those mages might return – with reinforcements.”

“Agreed,” Annette said.

She pointed down one of the long, narrow pathways leading off to the left. The stone pillar at the front of the path had been hit by a blast of dark magic, and large chunks of stone littered the floor by the nearest coffin.

“We know no one’s down there,” Annette said. “The perfect spot to rest.”

“Ever the optimist,” Felix muttered. He held out his hand, and Annette took it, gripping it more gently this time.

Still, he was glad to have her hand as they picked their way through the rubble and debris and down the dark, narrow pathway. Annette stumbled over the stones several times, and Felix’s foot hurt every time he stepped on it wrong. By the time they got to the end of the pathway and found the far wall of the mausoleum, they were leaning as much on each other as they were on their own footing. 

“I don’t think they’ll find us here,” Annette said, stopping by another pillar. “Here. Let me see your injury.”

Felix leaned against the pillar, sliding down it until he was sitting on the low ledge running along the bottom. Annette knelt beside him. A pair of candles flickered a few feet away, resting by the coffin behind the pillar. It wasn’t much, but by now, Felix’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

Annette sucked in air through her teeth, making a slight whistling sound as she looked and Felix’s arm. She did not sound particularly happy about what she saw.

Felix looked down and grimaced. Annette was right – the injury had spread already. Felix’s skin was mottled, covered in burn marks from his elbow to his shoulder. There was a faint purple tint underneath the skin, as if the magic was still glowing somewhere deep beneath the burnt tissue. Felix felt a wave of dizziness, and he was glad that he was no longer standing up – or worse, running. He’d seen much worse injuries before, of course, but there was something uncanny about this injury, as if he knew somehow that his own body would be unable to heal itself.

“I’m sorry, but – the sleeve,” Annette said, gesturing towards one of the torn patches in Felix’s shirt. “I need to be able to get at your arm. I’m sorry,” she said again. “I can try to sew it up for you after the battle, if you want.”

It took Felix a minute to realize she was offering to repair his shirt, not his arm. It was such a ridiculous thing to worry about that he could have laughed.

“I don’t care; just rip it,” he said. “It’s just a shirt, Annette. I’ll get a new one.”

Annette pursed her lips, evidently not caring much for Felix’s nonchalant attitude towards material possessions. But the shirt was clearly ruined, and she didn’t argue further. She quickly grabbed at the fabric and pulled, ripping it cleanly all the way down to the wrist.

The cold air was painful against the injury, and Felix sucked in a breath, but didn’t say anything. Annette leaned forward to examine his arm more carefully. Sitting the close to her, Felix could see a bruise underneath Annette’s eye. She must have been hurt in the battle, some hit from the magic that Felix hadn’t seen.

He couldn’t decide if he wanted more to lock himself in the library and learn a healing spell or to dash back out into the abandoned mausoleum and demand another round against whichever mage did this.

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t any good for either of those things. Especially not now, when his arm was beginning to pulse in time with his heartbeat and the room was beginning to feel increasingly unstable.

“You really shouldn’t push yourself after sustaining a dark magic attack, you know,” Annette said. She was busily fussing with Felix’s sleeve as she talked, folding the ripped fabric back carefully, as if it hadn’t been shredded in the blast. “Dark magic is exacerbated by physical exertion – any sort of action just speeds up the atrophic process, particularly for distal extremities.”

“Huh. Sure,” Felix mumbled. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. The room was spinning quite a lot. He’d feel better if he stood up, he was pretty sure. Maybe.

“Hey! You should listen to this.” Annette’s voice rose in pitch, snapping Felix back to reality as she tugged on his hand. “I might not be with you next time you get hit, you know.”

“Sure you will,” Felix drawled. He opened one eye to look at her. “You’re my bodyguard, aren’t you? The best there is. You’ll be there.”

Annette stared at him, open-mouthed, for just long enough that Felix wondered if he’d accidentally insulted her somehow. But then she blushed and looked away, turning her attention quickly back to his injured arm.

“Hold still,” she said sternly, flexing her fingers slightly. “I need to concentrate.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Felix said, leaning his head back against the wall. “I can probably just walk it off.”

“And stop talking until I’m done,” Annette added.

Felix decided it wasn’t worth arguing about. Maybe once the room stopped spinning. He tilted his head to one side and watched Annette. It was difficult, as she kept drifting in and out of focus when he looked at her.

A pale white light gathered around Annette’s hands, starting at her palms and spreading out around her fingers. She stared down at Felix’s injured arm, biting her lips in concentration. Her hands darted back and forth, momentarily uncertain of where to land. She finally settled on directly below the injury, her fingers circling around Felix’s elbow. Annette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Almost without realizing, Felix did the same.

Felix disliked healing magic. He wasn’t afraid of it, it didn’t cause him pain, but he disliked it, all the same. They’d had healers in Fraldarius, obviously, but magic was used sparingly, even for children just learning the sword – it was important to develop a tolerance for minor injuries and to understand how the body healed. Even at Garreg Mach, Felix avoided the infirmary and healers’ tents if he could help it. Mercedes’s magic felt claustrophobic, as warm and cloying as a hug. Felix preferred to stick to tonics and bandages and, best of all, avoiding injuries altogether.

But Annette’s magic felt different. Felix could feel it flowing from Annette’s fingertips, traveling up his arm and towards the injury. It felt like water, cool and smooth against his skin. Felix shifted without realizing, leaning towards Annette, wanting to plunge his arm deeper into a pool that didn’t exist. 

The world stopped spinning, and it felt more out of focus, somehow. Felix took another, deeper breath, and the air that filled his lungs was a cool and clean as the magic sinking into his skin.

It was a small moment of peace, and when Felix first heard the music, he thought he was imagining it. The song was faint and distant, but the tune was hauntingly familiar. Felix couldn’t quite predict where the next note would land, but when he heard it, the memory swept over him like a fragmented wave – cooler air and soft lights tinted in blues and greens and pinks. Was he remembering a cathedral, perhaps? A nursery? He was fairly sure he would have recognized the voice, if he could remember it more clearly. It took him a moment to realize that he recognized the voice now.

Felix opened his eyes to focus on Annette.

She didn’t return his stare – in fact, she wasn’t looking up towards him at all. She cradled his arm between her hands, the warm glow almost overwhelming in how bright it was. But Annette kept her gaze on the injury, a look of intense determination locked into place across her face. Her lips were parted slightly, and Felix realized she was humming the wordless melody that had seemed so familiar to him before. It didn’t seem to be an incantation – and certainly, Felix would have remembered if any other healers had sung as a part of their magical rituals. Annette didn’t even seem to fully realize what she was doing.

Still, whatever she was doing, it was working. Felix watched as the injury on his arm gradually faded, the skin stitching itself together. He felt lightheaded, unable to concentrate on the pain in his arm, until he suddenly realized that the pain had subsided, that the injury was gone.

It was a strange thing, healing magic. It disoriented Felix, distracted him, made him feel as if he wasn’t in charge of his own limbs anymore. It wasn’t something he entirely trusted.

Still, he couldn’t argue with the results. Felix flexed his fingers, then flexed the muscles in his upper arm. To his disappointment, Annette stopped humming and pulled away from him. She still watched him intently, and after a moment, she looked up to meet his gaze directly.

“How’s it feel?” she asked. “Your arm, I mean. The injury.”

“Not bad,” Felix said. He coughed and cleared his throat – his voice was hoarser than he’d realized. “Fine,” he tried again. “It’s good. That was good.”

“Oh! Well – good!” Annette sat up a little straighter. She seemed pleased with herself; she was almost smiling. “Professor Manuela has been giving me some tips and tricks on that healing spell. She said it was coming along nicely, but you never really know what it’s going to be like in actual battlefield conditions, and I was really worried that I was going to mess something up. But you’re feeling okay?” She leaned forward and prodded at Felix’s arm, just below the elbow. “Still able to swing a sword, and all that?”

“You were singing,” Felix said. “I recognize the song.” It wasn’t an answer to the question, and from Annette’s immediately scowl in response, it was the wrong thing to say.

“Ugh! I told you not to bring that up,” she said. “I swear, Felix Fraldarius, I do one nice thing for you and you go and find more silly lyrics to hold over my head.”

“There weren’t lyrics. Just now. I just mean the tune,” Felix said. “I think I’ve heard it before.”

“Oh. Well. That.” Annette crossed her arms and looked away, still scowling. “It’s a well-known hymn. They probably sing it in Fraldarius as well as Dominic.”

“Is singing part of the spell?” Felix asked. He hadn’t heard much singing in the infirmary at Garreg Mach, which was surprising, given Professor Manuela’s varied skillset and general lack of inhibition.

“No. It’s not – just forget it, alright?” Annette hugged her arms to her chest a little tighter, curling in on herself. “It’s not an incantation or anything. It just makes it easier for me to concentrate, to be able to think about, I don’t know –”

“A time when you were happier,” Felix finished.

Annette sat up a little straighter, looking at Felix quickly, as if he’d just poked her in the back. Then she settled back into her slouch, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.

“Mercie calls it a way of channeling devotion to the goddess,” she said. “But yeah. I guess, when I was happier, if you want to call it that. I used to sing it with – my mom used to sing it to me.”

“Yeah,” Felix said, leaning his head back against the wall. “My, um – we sang it in Fraldarius, too.”

He stared up at the ceiling. It was impossibly high, like the cathedrals of his youth. In the back of his mind, Felix knew this place was considered holy. But his home seemed so far away. He’d remembered it for a moment, just long enough to recollect that distance.

“So, um.”

Felix sat up quickly. Annette was staring at him. He couldn’t read her expression.

She stuck out her hand. “Your arm,” she said. “Does it hurt?” She bent her arm at the elbow, swinging it back and forth at a right angle. “Go like this,” she instructed.

Felix mimicked her unenthusiastically. She smiled.

“Yeah! There we go. That’s good.” She tilted her head, looking at him thoughtfully. “Does it hurt, though? A slight ache is okay, but if it still hurts, I did something wrong.”

For a brief, selfish moment, Felix thought about telling Annette about the slight twinge of pain, the ache that flickered underneath his skin as he moved his arm. It wouldn’t have been a lie. And maybe she would sing again, if she thought another spell would help.

But the pain wasn’t worth addressing. Felix knew that. In the distance, he could hear the clanging of weapons. And the threat of more reinforcements was impossible to ignore. They needed to find the rest of the class, and soon.

So Felix shook his head, instead.

“It’s fine,” he said. He stood up, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. Then, after a moment, he reached out his hand to Annette, instead. “Let’s go.”

Annette took Felix’s hand, and he quickly pulled her to her feet. Her touch was overly warm, still faint with the glow of healing magic, and Felix dropped his hand quickly, flexing his fingers a few times before reaching for his sword again. In the distance, he could see flashes of darkened light above the pillars, towards the central platform of the Mausoleum. More mages, then. More fighting. He welcomed it.

“Stay behind me,” he said sharply to Annette. He caught her scowl and could tell she was planning to snap something back, so he quickly added, “You’re the only one of us who knows how to heal. It’s more convenient than going to the infirmary.”

Annette’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a compliment?” she asked.

Felix scoffed, but he didn’t answer. He could see Annette start to smile as he turned away.

He didn’t turn back as he hurried towards the front lines, but he could hear Annette running behind him. For some strange reason, he could breathe easier knowing she was there.

Once or twice, Felix thought he heard Annette humming again. But that was probably all in his head.