The Spill

This fanfiction is a submission to the cultists—err, I mean, the lovely people over at r/WeGotTrouble on Reddit! This story is a celebration of everyone's favorite clumsy maid, the one and only Felicia from Fire Emblem Fates! Felicia was my first wife when I played the game, and to this day remains one of my favorite characters in the whole series. I want to take this time to thank everyone for checking out my story and to suggest it to your friends if you enjoyed it. Thank you!

One mistake. One small mistake and that was it for her. She had been warned numerous times over and over again, sometimes during the same day, or even during the same sitting not to be such a butterfingers. At this rate, she might as well consider herself unemployed, and possibly banished from the kingdom. Perhaps those lowly dogs from Hoshido would take her in? The odds were slim, but hey, every man needs a maid at least once in his life right?

Her lips quivered as she tried to speak up, to apologize, to somehow take back the idiotic decision of placing the teapot on the edge of the table. All that came out however, were snivels and squeaks, like a small child caught in the act of breaking a window with a baseball bat. If only she hadn't been so stupid! How many times had she done this task for others before? She couldn't even fathom the number of broken glasses littering the waste bins behind the Mess Hall, nor the stains in the carpets that made the masters' headquarters smell like mouldy leaves. She had a special rag for every occasion, some of which she even labelled in order to know which ones were the best for which stains. It was a daily ritual that she was used to by now, but ultimately she knew it would only be a matter of time before she ended up serving her last cup.

Xander, Leo, and even the lovely Lady Elise had all scolded her in one way or another to stop being such a mess. What was the point in having a maid that could barely walk across the courtyard without tripping over her own two feet? Every member of the royal family (including King Garon, but no one ever mentions it lest their heads end up on the chopping block) had become victims of her accidents in one way or another. They were small incidents at first, like a chipped glass on the side of the counter, or overflowing the kettle due to some kind of inconvenient distraction. As the war went on however, the problems began to grow, so much so that sometimes the soldiers thought Felicia was a Hoshidan spy the opposing nation had cleverly planted among their ranks in order to deter their progress. She was eventually placed closer within the castle walls, closer to Lord Corrin and the other royal siblings as not to disrupt the morale of the rest of the army. She kind of preferred it like this though. Corrin was at least more supportive of her during her little accidents.

Not this time though.

This time she had crossed the line, and there was no turning back from it. She could see the fury in his eyes, through the strands of hair that had been doused in steamy liquid. It may not have been that big of a deal if he wasn't about to partake in his weekly meeting with the other Nohrian strategists, where they typically discussed various battle tactics and their nation's current standing in the war. As one of the lead commanders, he had a certain reputation to uphold, and Felicia had gone and tarnished it with her uncanny ability to turn a trivial situation into an otherwise complicated one. She practically gave Arthur a run for his money, and it's by both of their unluckiness combined that the royal siblings vouched to keep the both of them as far away from each other as possible in order to avoid some kind of catastrophe. Granted, it's been several months since the start of the war and no disaster has happened yet, but Xander wasn't about to take any more chances after what happened at Elise's birthday party last week.

What was a maid to do in this situation? Normally, as all good maids know, the best thing to do when one makes a mistake is to rectify the situation immediately. For Felicia, it wasn't that simple though. She could easily get down on the floor and start to pick up the broken shards, or perhaps mop up the tea with the rag she always kept in her pocket, but if she were to do that, then what was the possibility of something even more dreadful happening? She could accidentally tear a hole in the carpet if she were to mop over the glass. She could bury the stains permanently into the floor since her rag wasn't damp enough. She could turn her back for a moment and unknowingly knock Corrin's teacup down, which was surprisingly still in his hand, albeit dangling by a couple of fingers. He had dropped the plate when the pot had landed on him, and even now she could still hear the faint sizzling of boiling water on skin. At least the dragon scales gave him some protection from the natural elements.

And so, she found herself at a loss, unable to make a decision and ultimately defeated knowing that her life was over. She could see the hatred in his eyes, the unwillingness to find a compromise like he had so generously done in all the incidents prior. This one mistake costed her everything; this teeny, tiny, miniscule miscalculation of a mistake was the final straw for the kingdom of Nohr. She no longer had a home, no longer had people to call friends, and she expected her farewell party to go just as smoothly as her hand operated that teapot a few seconds ago.

There was Laslow posing with her cake, a careless, "Bye Felicia!" scribbled all over it with some pink icing sugar concocted by Asugi. There was Peri, crying in the corner, upset that she didn't get to be the one with tea on her head in order to give her an excuse to maul Felicia where she stood. There was Odin, spouting a good-natured, but otherwise unheard speech on how she'll be missed and never forgotten. And there was Flora, wearing her uniform, the very same uniform that both of them had accepted when they became maids of Nohr. There was the disappointment in her face, and that was all Felicia could take before fleeing through the front gates.

They would never forgive her. So long as she wore that uniform, she could never amount to anything but a constant reminder of what a failure she was.

Maybe life would be better without her fumbling it up all the time. With Felicia out of the picture, the soldiers could sleep easy knowing that there wouldn't be any loose rugs lying on the ground, forgotten after she said she was going to return them after dusting them off. Mealtimes would be much more efficient as well, as there was no chance of anyone accidentally mixing the salt and the sugar together, or overcooking the meat and undercooking the pasta. Applications for new servants were also plentiful, and there were even some great positions higher up for anyone wishing to obtain that elite "retainer-status." There wouldn't be a shortage of hands around the castle for a long, long time.

In the time that she had spent staring at Corrin's tea-smitten face, Felicia had contemplated her retirement and exile from the country. No other option was possible at this point, especially not after the hounding she had gotten from the day before, and the day before that, and also the day before that.

She wanted to walk away from it all, but for some reason her feet refused to budge. At the end of the day, she respected Lord Corrin more than anyone else in the army. He had shown mercy to her when others refused, and likewise she always took care of him whenever he was feeling sick, or depressed, or simply upset when his nails got too long (a side effect from being of dragon blood). He knew her very well, almost as if she were his own sister in a way, but the grimace he was giving her was something new for her entirely. Normally whenever she did something like this, she'd see him laugh it off, and that always made her feel much better about herself. Now his smile had been reduced to nothing but a scowl, and between his lips she noticed his fangs curl up as if someone had punched him in the gut.

Say something already dammit!

"I-I'm sor—" she choked, but on what she wasn't quite sure. Be it her conscious or her own saliva, something inside her was forcing her back. It was as if she didn't have the heart to admit her own wrongdoing, or how she didn't want to believe that she had done what she had done.

She reached for her rag and put her hand up to wipe his face, but immediately retracted as she felt her boot crush a shard of glass. Here it was, her ingenious plan, to clean something up only to get distracted by something else and haphazardly cause an even bigger mess. Felicia, why are you always such as klutz?

The rag fell from her hand and she refused to look at him. Her lips, cold as ice but unmistakably hot as they jittered up and down anxiously. She had to bite the bottom one in order to get them to stop moving, but at that point she probably just looked like a sad puppy. Despite her scatterbrain, the urge to apologize kept reaching for him.

"I-I…I'm sorr—" She couldn't stand the sight of anything anymore as her eyes slammed shut and her hands had made their way to her face, shielding her from the world and all the things that made fun of her. "I'm sorry!"

She fell to her knees, barely aware that some of the glass had scratched her legs and punctured the tassels on her uniform. The tears wouldn't stop coming now, a flood of hate and regret washing over her and making her wish she could just reenlist in the army and do it all over again. She was ashamed to be here, before her master, broken and useless unlike the title that defined her occupation. Most of all, she hated herself, wishing that somehow, someway she could change and make herself a better person.

Maybe running away really was the right thing to do.

"Lord Corrin," she cried, pushing herself to her feet, her head burdened by the weight of her mistakes and her eyes glued to the floor. "Please forgive me."

She was going to do it all at once. She was going to take one step, then a stride, and then finally break free from this beautiful kingdom that she didn't deserve. It was time to start a new life, maybe as a farmer, or a hermit, or some other class that didn't require interaction with people. It was, after all, for the best of everyone.

As she moved, she was stopped dead in her tracks, as Corrin had reached out and grasped her wrist. She flinched upon contact, struggling to free herself, turning to face him but still refusing to open her eyes. No matter how hard she tried, Corrin's grip was like iron, and it was also hot as the boiling tea trickled down the side of his arm.

"Let me go," she pleaded. "Please milord, let me go. I can't stay here anymore."

She attempted to shake him off again, but to her dismay he was immovable. It was at this point where she feared for the worst. Was she going to be punished? A slap to the face? Perhaps a stone or two? She could survive a few days in prison easily if she was in the right mindset for it.

Strangely, Corrin alluded to none of these things. Instead, he calmly pulled her back, reaching for her wrist with his other hand so that she could not escape.

"Felicia, look at me," he said.

She was stunned by the warmness of his voice. She expected anger, maybe something with a violent or aggressive undertone, but there was no such trace of anything. He was talking to her like he always did, politely, charmingly, and with that small smile that revealed just enough fang to show it off. Hesitantly, she opened one eye, and then the other, lifting her head free from the confinements of her shoulders as she realized she wasn't about to get struck in the head.

"C-Corrin?" she stuttered, but that's all she could say.

Corrin clasped her hands in his, no longer squeezing but holding them gently. His eyebrows had untangled themselves from their knot, reminding her of the face that she had met when she was a little girl.

"It's okay," he replied. "I'm not mad at you."

Felicia couldn't believe what she was hearing, for a moment thinking it was all a trick. Another second later, she discarded the thought, remembering that this was the Corrin that she knew and loved. He was smiling at her.

"B-But the tea," she said. "I messed up your whole outfit. And you have a meeting to go to in a few minutes…"

Her gaze fell to the floor again as she was reminded of how much of a fool she was. She couldn't imagine what his siblings would think of him if they were to see him like this.

To her surprise, Corrin didn't seem all that concerned.

"Well, then I guess they'll have to see me like this. Who knows, maybe it'll put them all in the mood for some tea?"

He chuckled, but Felicia remained dumbfounded. All this time she thought that her life was on the line, that this was going to be her last cup of tea ever. Yet here was her master, laughing off her mistake as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Wait a second. This was an everyday occurrence.

"Don't take pity on me, milord," said Felicia, her gaze lowering again. "I am not deserving of your kindness. I am a horrible maid; anyone can see that. I know you mean well, but I know deep down that you're only trying to cover up your true feelings."

She suddenly felt a hand lift her chin up, her eyes locking with his in a near instant. They were a brilliant shade of red.

"Everyone likes you for who you are," he replied, "myself included. You may mess up every now and then, but you're forgetting all of the good things you do for people. Honestly, I couldn't ask for a better maid. And besides, you've got one thing that all the other servants in this castle don't have." She watched him as he placed a finger right over her chest. "You've got a big heart."

It was true and it took her one hundred spills to finally realize it. Her reputation was cemented the very day she put on the uniform, and she always wore it proudly despite her faults. For no matter how many times she fell down, she always picked herself back up to carry the torch of her duties. She had been there for those who were hurt, those who were dirty, and most of all, those who needed a friend. The accidents that came with her were a small price to pay compared to the real impact that she made on the lives of her friends.

She was Felicia, the clumsiest, most adorable maid in all of Nohr. And everyone loved her for that.

Her lips quivered again, but Corrin was prepared this time. In that moment, she had embraced him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders with no intention of letting go. Their necks touched, and the fresh tea had been transferred from his skin to her uniform, but she didn't notice one bit. All she cared about was the fact that, for better or for worse, he would always accept her for the person she is. And no matter how much she despised herself for being such an oaf, she drew comfort in knowing that she was still loved.

Everyone makes mistakes. Some are just better at it than others.