2 - Fistfight Under Starlight
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Felix
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"Psst! Fee, wake up!" Sylvain hisses in my ear.
I swat him away, growling a curse.
"Wake up! It's important," he says.
"Are we under attack?" I ask without emerging from my cocoon of blankets.
"No."
"Is something on fire?"
"No. But-"
"Then leave me the fuck alone."
"Fee!" he says insistently. "There is a damsel in distress who needs you."
"Damsels are your problem not mine." I open my eyes and squint angrily at the clock on the wall. "It's one in the morning. I have a duel at dawn. Let me sleep."
"Your sparring partner won't be in much state to fight if you don't do something."
That gets me to sit up at last. I look over at Sylvain, who is sitting on the edge of my bed, still dressed, although his hair is a mess and his shirt is missing a button. He is just now coming in from a night of drinking and carousing no doubt.
"Did something happen to Byleth?" I ask.
"I don't know but when I was coming back to the dorms just now, I passed by the greenhouse and I heard someone crying. I poked my head in to make sure everything was okay and I saw it was her."
"What the hell am I supposed to do about that? Seems like a personal problem," I reply.
Sylvain gives me a look like I am being an idiot. "Crying," he says again. "Have you ever seen the professor so much as shed a tear before? Something is wrong. Seriously wrong. So get your miserable ass over there and talk to her. One of us has to but I'm pretty drunk and I'll probably just say something stupid. I mean, you probably will too, but at least it will be the kind of stupid thing that won't come off as hitting on her, like I would."
"Just go get Mercy or someone."
"I couldn't find her."
"Try Claude."
"He's asleep."
"Why can't you wake him up not me?"
"Because I'm avoiding him. Knocking on his door in the middle of the night will give him the wrong idea and I'm trying really hard to play it cool."
I snort. "Good luck with that."
"Shut up. I can be hard-to-get if I want to. Anyways, you're more of Byleth's friend than anyone else. So go. Get up!" he says, grabbing my clothes and boots and throwing them at me emphatically.
"Fine," I grumble, pulling aside the covers and getting dressed.
Sylvain smiles at me proudly as I head to the door and it makes me want to tell him to go fuck off, but I keep the curse to myself, knowing he is just trying to be kind.
Closing the door behind me as I leave, I walk calmly down the hall. But when I'm sure I'm far enough away that Sylvain can't hear me, I break into a run and bolt down the stairs and through the halls and courtyard until I come to the greenhouse.
I hesitate for a moment outside its doors, realizing that I have no idea what to say or why I am even here.
But how many times has Sylvain let me cry on his shoulder and listened to me over the years? It's what a friend does. I may not be a crybaby kid anymore, thank the goddess, but I still owe someone this. I've been the distraught one enough times that I should suck it up and try to return the favor.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step into the greenhouse. The glass roof has been broken and the warm atmosphere has been permeated by the winter cold, leaving the flowers and herbs to wither.
I summon a small flame to my hand to illuminate the darkness and catch sight of Byleth. She is in the far corner, sitting beneath a plum tree, half-hidden by the scraggly dead ferns around its base.
"Felix?" she says, looking up at me with wide, startled eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Shit. What am I doing here?
"Syl was looking for you," I answer without thinking.
"Sylvain? Why?"
"He, uh, needed advice."
"It's the middle of the night."
"Well, most of the things that idiot needs advice about usually deal with what he does in the middle of the night," I reply.
Byleth laughs faintly and sniffs. So she was crying.
As I come over to sit beside her, the firelight illuminates her face enough that I can see the redness around her eyes and tear streaks on her skin. Her eyes are dry now, but there is a haunted look to them that frightens me a little. She had that look when I first met her all those years ago. Over the course of her year at the monastery a lot of warmth and life had come to her eyes. But at first, they looked just like this - so carefully guarded that no emotion at all managed to slip through.
"How are we supposed to train at dawn if you're still awake? You won't put up much of a fight sleep-deprived," I say. "It'll just be a waste of my time."
"What time is it?" she asks.
"Past one."
"I'll find some coffee in the morning. I'll be fine."
"We could spar now, of course, if you are really dead-set on not sleeping," I offer.
She holds up her hand and looks at it. It's trembling like a leaf. "I don't think I'd stand a chance at the moment. Not against you."
Think, Felix! What are you supposed to say or do? Sylvain was right. Something is definitely wrong with her. She looks downright human.
I get up and nod towards the dining hall. "Tea?"
"We don't have any in our storehouse. We're stretched pretty thin."
"Hm. We'll see about that," I say. "Come on."
I beckon for her to follow me and we leave the greenhouse, heading for the grassy courtyard. On the far side of it is a little patch of trees growing near the wall and I am pretty certain one of them is an Almyran pine.
"Aha," I say. "Here, give me a leg up."
"What are you doing?"
"Being resourceful. Come on."
She holds out her hands and gives me a boost so I can jump up and reach the lowest branch of the tall pine. The rough bark scrapes my hands but I ignore it, hoisting myself up onto the tree limb. A little bit further up there is a cluster of fresh needles and I gather a handful and tuck them into my pocket.
When I drop back down to the ground, I can see the barest hint of a smile on Byleth's lips. Maybe it is my imagination, but she looks a little less like a ghost now.
I head over to the dining hall and rummage around in the cupboard until I find a rusty old teapot. I fill it with water and rip up the pine needles, scattering them in the pot. By the time the water is steaming, the wonderful, heady scent of evergreen has filled the kitchen. I take a deep breath of it and feel it ease a bit of my stiffness away.
Mercedes always makes tea when someone is sad. I figure it's a good place to start.
I pour it into two mugs and hand one to Byleth. She blows on it to cool it and takes a sip with a soft, appreciative 'mm.'
I should ask her what is troubling her, shouldn't I? But what am I supposed to say if she tells me? 'That sounds rough.' Fuck if I know what the right thing to say is. I don't usually have to do the talking when Sylvain or Mercedes is around. Why did I come here?
Because I've missed her more than I could ever say. Because she is in pain. Because she looks lonely and hell do I know that feeling better than anyone.
"Sleep-deprivation makes you a liability in a battle," I say. "You should rest."
"I don't want to sleep," she says, staring down at her tea.
"Why not?"
It is a long moment before she replies and when she does it is so quietly I almost can't hear her. "What if I don't wake up again?"
Now all this makes a little more sense.
"You think you're going to pass out for another five years?" I ask.
"I don't know. I don't think so. I wasn't sleeping so much as just… I think it was more like being dead. I can't explain it, but the idea of slipping back into that darkness frightens me. I can't abandon you all again."
"Well at least now if you fall into your death sleep on accident, we have some mages around to wake you up. Lysithea knows all kinds of crazy dark magic. She can hex you back to life, I'm sure."
Byleth just nods.
We sip our tea in silence for a few minutes and when my cup is empty, I set it to the side and say, "Follow me."
"You should go get some rest. You've travelled a long ways," she says.
"Don't tell me what to do."
The training grounds are locked up at this hour and I don't have my key anymore, so I lead her out to the lawn again, kicking aside some fallen branches and rubble to clear a large circle on the frost-withered grass.
"Should I go get my sword?" she asks.
"Best not wield swords with shaking hands. I don't want it to go flying and cut my head off," I say. "We'll use our fists."
"You think you can beat me in a brawling match?" she asks, a bit of energy returning to her distant manner.
"We'll see," I answer.
I center my balance and raise my fists. Byleth does the same, circling me warily. To my surprise, she attacks first, lunging forward in that graceful, terrifying way of hers. How is she so light on her feet while also hitting like a sledgehammer? Goddamn.
I block her strike with my arm and swing a counter at her, but I can't land the hit. Back and forth we fight, attacking, blocking, countering, dodging and striking - the only kind of dance I am any good at. As we fight, I can see the hungry, single-minded focus take over her body as if by instinct and it reassures me. Whatever has happened to her these years, she is still the cold-blooded mercenary I know.
Finally she lands a hit straight to my sternum that knocks the wind out of me. I manage to evade another hit and growl a curse under my breath. Okay, no going easy on her anymore. Now I'm not doing this to be nice. Now I'm going to beat her.
I give it all I've got, pushing her back step by step until she is reaching the edge of the circle. But she doesn't lash out in a panic like some people do when cornered. She keeps her head clear and waits for an opening in my defense. She is not going to find it, though. I've got this under control. Nothing is going to-
"Shit!" I swear in pain as she strikes like lightning and I find myself down on the ground, my legs kicked out from under me. She is on top of me before I can jump back to my feet, pinning me down.
She smiles at me in triumph and I smile back, too happy to see that look on her face to mind being beaten. I was the one who got too cocky and let my guard down anyways. She won fair and square.
She is panting for breath, her small hands still holding me pinned down with a grip like iron. Suddenly, a stunned look passes across her face and her eyes widen a bit. I feel my face get hot and realize furiously that I must be blushing.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I feel so out of sorts all of a sudden?
Why isn't she getting off of me? Why is she staring at me like a startled deer?
She is so close I can feel her breath on my skin and it is so distracting that my eyes stray to her lips and my head feels a bit dizzy, but not from the fight.
Fuck. She has never looked at me like that before. Fuck. What do I do?
"I won," she whispers, stirring out of her daze a bit.
But I can't stop staring at her mouth, wondering what it would be like to feel her this close to me in a context other than a fight.
"Yes. You did," I answer a little breathlessly.
Byleth smiles and gets off of me. "I'm not too rusty after all."
I recover my composure enough to answer, "You still let yourself get backed to the edge of the ring. You can do better."
"You're right. I need to train harder if I want to get my strength back," she says. She sighs and lies down on her back.
I glance over at her and wonder what is going on in that crazy head of hers. Her cheeks are flushed slightly and she is still catching her breath from the exertion of our fight. The wind in the trees causes shadows to play across her face in the moonlight, and with her hair splayed out on the grass around her and her eyes gazing up at the night sky, I can't help but notice how beautiful she looks.
It's not like I wasn't aware of the fact. She has always been beautiful. But it was just a trait of hers like any other, no more significant than the tone of her voice or the way she holds a sword. Why does it suddenly feel so remarkable?
Why did she look at me like that when she was on top of me? It was like she was seeing a stranger for the first time. Have I changed that much?
I suppose I have. Last she remembers, I was barely an adult, still a student and not a soldier. I guess it must be strange to look at me and see someone she both recognizes and doesn't.
"Felix?" she says, startling me out of my thoughts.
"What?"
"Thank you."
"I didn't let you win if that's what you think," I say.
"No, I meant thank you for making me feel like myself again. I got a little lost in my own head."
"That's why we train, isn't it? So we don't have to be in our own heads for a while."
"Mhm."
I shift to lie on my side so I can look at her. Studying her sad, but peaceful expression with a frown, I ask, "Why were you crying earlier? I didn't know you cried."
"What? How did you know I was-"
"Sylvain sent me. He was walking by the greenhouse and heard you."
"Why did he send you?" she asks.
"Hell if I know. I told him to get someone else but he insisted I go try to figure out what was wrong with you. He's going to keep hounding me about it if I go back to the dorms without accomplishing my mission. So tell me what's wrong."
She pauses, then answers, "I wasn't meant to be a teacher. I was meant to be a warrior. Now a war has come and instead of standing beside you, I was gone. Even if it wasn't of my own will, I still abandoned all of you right when I finally had a chance to be of some use to you."
"You've already been of use to us. A lot of the other students might not have survived this long without your training," I reply. "That healing spell you forced Syl to learn saved his ass in a battle once. He'd be dead without you and considering that in the following battle he saved my life, I suppose it means I'd probably be dead too."
"Stop," she says. "It isn't like you to say kind lies to comfort someone. The truth is that I should have been there and I wasn't. Don't pretend it's not."
"Byleth," I say firmly.
She doesn't reply.
I put my hand on her shoulder and turn her over to face me. As much as I still find it uncomfortable sometimes to look into her eyes so steadily, I need her to understand how serious I am, because if she doesn't believe me, she isn't going to believe anyone.
"You really think I would say some nice bullshit to try to make you feel better? You know me better. I might be an ass most of the time, but I'd never lie to you. So listen to me, okay? You died five years ago. We grieved for you - all of us. Now you're back by some inexplicable whim of the goddess and I don't give a fuck how or why or whether things should or shouldn't have turned out this way. You're alive and you're here now."
She opens her mouth slightly to say something but can't seem to find the words. Breaking eye contact, she looks over my shoulder for a moment. Goddamnit. She is as awkward as me sometimes. How the hell did we even become friends when both of us are so bad at talking?
I wait for her to reply, but instead of speaking, she looks back at me with a faint smile and reaches her hand out. I expect her to put it on my shoulder or something, seeing as mine is still resting on hers. But her fingers brush my forehead as she tucks the hair falling in my eyes behind my ear.
The simple touch stuns me a little. Normally I would tell someone to back off if they made some stupid gesture like that. But instead I find myself hoping she will do it again. It feels different with her. Affection always seems so patronizing from other people. I didn't realize how good it feels when it is genuine.
She moves her hand away but I catch it in mine and hold onto it, not wanting the distance to return between us.
"Are you still beating yourself up in your head?" I ask.
"No," she says. "That's not what I'm thinking about at all anymore."
"Oh? What are you thinking about then?"
"That you're different now. The same in the important ways, but still different. I want to understand what's changed."
"How am I different?"
"You're older."
"That's how time works for most of us."
"I know. I meant that you're so…"
When she trails off without finishing the thought, I'm curious enough that I can't help but ask, "I'm what?"
She doesn't answer and I say, "I'm going to assume I haven't changed for the better then if you're too scared to say it to my face."
"No."
"I haven't?" I ask, feeling self-conscious. What is wrong with me? I think I have improved a lot since my school days.
"I meant that no, I'm not scared to say it. I just don't quite know how," she says. "Besides, you hate it when I comment on anything other than your swordsmanship. Why do you want to know so much what I think?"
"I'm just trying to make conversation. That's one thing that's changed about me - my tolerance for talking has gone up. I had to learn eventually, I guess."
She smiles. "Maybe you can be my teacher now."
"Well, the first step of conversation is usually answering people's questions. You don't have to answer them well or honestly. You can say complete bullshit if you want. But you have to answer. It's unfortunately an obligation if you want the conversation to continue."
"And do you want the conversation to continue? You've accomplished your mission. You found out what was wrong and you even managed to cheer me up. You don't have to stay here with me anymore."
"Spending time with you isn't so bad," I reply. "Beats being alone, as long as you pull your weight and don't leave me burdened with all the talking."
"Fine!" she says. "Stop pressuring me. You want to know what I was thinking?"
"I didn't care until you refused to tell me. But yes, now I do."
Byleth looks like she is steeling her nerves for battle. She looks me in the eyes and says, "You're a man now and you aren't my student anymore."
"That's the profound observation I had to work so hard to pry out of you? Really? Why does it matter so much anyways?" I ask.
Her hand that had been resting on my shoulder moves suddenly to the back of my neck and her fingers slip into my hair. My mind races wildly as I understand what she has been struggling to say this whole time.
"It matters to me," she says. "There are a lot of things that matter more that should be on my mind right now but that's all that I can think about."
She still looks tentative and a little scared. She thinks I'm going to shove her away and reject her, because that's what idiotic younger Felix would have done. But she is right. I have changed, even if I didn't quite know it myself until just now.
Carefully, because it feels dangerous to touch something so delicate with my tough, calloused hands, I brush my fingers across her cheek, marveling at how smooth it feels. My gaze lowers to her mouth again and I lean in closer, excitement thrilling through me when she catches her breath and her lips part slightly in anticipation.
She tangles her fingers tighter in my hair and know I don't have the willpower to keep my emotions in check. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her closer and kiss her deeply. She responds with equal enthusiasm, that strange tentative Byleth vanishing, replaced by the confident one I have seen so many times before in a fight - the one who doesn't hold back or doubt herself.
Then suddenly she stops and stares at me with wide eyes.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
She takes my hand and places it on her chest, right above her heart. "It feels so strange," she says.
"What does?"
"It's beating," she whispers.
"Does it not usually?" I ask in alarm.
"Not since Sothis died to save me. I thought a part of me died that day too. But it's beating again. What a strange feeling."
I lean my ear against her chest and listen to the heartbeat. It's a bit irregular but she's right - it's pounding as hard as mine.
Byleth laughs softly in amazement.
"You are one strange woman," I say.
"I'm sorry," she replies.
"Shut up. Don't be sorry."
I tilt my head up to kiss her neck, delighting in the sensation of her soft skin under my lips. How could I have not realized how much I wanted this? How could I have been so absurdly distracted by thoughts of battle and training to ever consider how incredible it could feel to touch her and kiss her?
Thank the goddess I didn't waste months finding this out. Enough time has been lost. I'm not losing any more.
Byleth's hands roam across my body as I kiss her neck. I catch a bit of skin with my teeth impulsively and enjoy the sound of her gasping and her fingers tightening into a fist as she grips a handful of my coat.
"Felix," she whispers.
"What?" I murmur, continuing to kiss her.
"We can't stay out here. It's freezing and… public."
I stop and let go of her. "Oh fuck." We are out in the open, aren't we? There is enough moonlight that if someone were to walk by, they would easily see us. And even though it is the middle of the night, that doesn't necessarily mean everyone is asleep. It's the evening of our big reunion. Many of them are likely still drinking and partying.
I am never going to hear the end of it if someone catches me out here kissing her. They all still seem to think of her as the professor, like they can't see the fact that she has always been our equal and is even more so now.
Claude will kill me. Well, he will try at least. I can take that bastard. I don't care how tall and muscular he is. I could kick his ass in a fight… unless he brought his wyvern along.
Byleth stands up and holds her hand out to me. I take it and get to my feet, suddenly feeling awkward and keenly aware of the fact that I have just dived headlong into something and I'm not even sure what it is.
Fuck it. If you make a decision in a battle, you commit to it. Hesitance is a liability. To second-guess your instincts is dangerous.
"Sylvain is in my room. We can't go there," I say, pulling her with me as I set out across the lawn.
"Where are you going? The training grounds? They're still locked. I can burn the lock off with a spell, but it'll need some cleaning up before we can have a proper sparring match in it. It might be-"
"You quarters," I interrupt.
"What?"
"You said yourself - it's cold out here. We'll go to your room. You need sleep and maybe if I'm there to keep an eye on you, you won't worry too much about not being able to wake up."
She has to jog to keep up with me, but I don't feel like slowing down. Now that I have set my course, my determination to see it through has turned to an excitement that I have to struggle to contain so I don't start smiling like some moon-brained idiot.