She never saw his face. Usually only his back was visible. But his back was unforgettable. Broad, rigid, familiar. Unchanging after all their years apart. The only difference was her own height, and even then just barely, given her petite stature.
"Stop pretending you can't see me!"
Annette raced down the halls. How was it that they seemed to stretch neverendingly? The stones underneath her shoes felt increasingly cold with each heavy step. The clanking of his armor droned ahead of her, a steady metronome in contrast to the panicked thumping of her heartbeat in her ears.
I can do this.
"Father, please—!"
He stopped in his tracks.
The endless halls of Garreg Mach suddenly compressed like an accordion breathing tired, dissonant notes. She stumbled into him and tripped backwards. A soft patch of grass broke her fall.
He finally turned around.
Warm sunlight illuminated the back of his head, his red hair lit in a dazzling glow like the halos of the saints depicted in the chapel's stained glass windows. Yet even facing her, the light shining at his back left his face in shadow. She couldn't make out his features no matter how hard she tried. A large hand extended down to her. His palm was marked with years of scars and calluses from holding heavy weaponry, but it was his hand. Suddenly her own felt much tinier as it reached up to take hold.
I can do this.
"I told you to watch your step, Annette. Do you want to ride on my shoulders again?"
Rough fingers closed around hers with surprising tenderness. Those same hands were strong enough to effortlessly crush and destroy any of the king's enemies. But Annette knew every ridge and scar. Countless times she'd watch those same hands delicately carve shapes and faces into wood, the same hands that tucked her in at night, the same hands that held mother's face in the candlelight after dinner before settling into prayer.
But just as Annette could never see his face, she also never managed to keep ahold of his hand. She felt her fingers slip through his palm and was suddenly alone again.
The room was dark.
The armchair she sat upon was was soft. Too soft. She felt her lower back sink into the cushion. The wings flanking either side seemed to tower over her. Her armchair's matching pair stood opposite her, casting a long, unsteady shadow along the frayed rug resting atop the floorboards. Its occupant sat hunched over sobbing.
"Please...please don't cry, mother."
Her mother's crying form continued to weep. Long, fair hair cascaded down her shoulders. Its usual lustrous sheen—her mother's pride and joy and her father's favorite feature to compliment—was strewn about in dull tangles.
"Mother… I promise, I'm going to find him. So please don't cry."
I can do this.
She hummed a quiet tune. Like her father's face, she never saw her mother's either. But Annette knew it was better that way. The memory of her mother's tears haunted her enough during waking hours. It was easier when her subconscious protected her. Her mother's sobs slowed and softened to barely a whimper as she listened to Annette's song.
"A lonely sock without its mate, a set of china missing a plate,
"No matter how far apart they stray, reunited again, they'll find a way.
"Keep your smile bright even when you stand alone,
"To help those you've lost find their way home…!"
A cheerful song and smile were her strongest weapons in the face of grief, serving as a shield Annette could wield to protect her loved ones and herself at the same time. She reached out to provide a comforting touch, then suddenly sank even deeper into the armchair's cushion with dizzying speed.
Something hard and unforgiving rose up underneath her, jostling her into a new seat.
The chairs at the magic academy were notorious for being rigid and ill-suited for long stretches of sitting. Although most students regularly complained, to Annette it was a convenient discomfort. After all, uncomfortable chairs were the perfect place to sit when staying up late studying. It was impossible to fall asleep with a stiff back and sore rump. She found herself hunched over an expanse of parchment detailing complex mathematical equations and spell conjugations. Her eyes strained in the weak candlelight to make sense of the formulas.
I can do this.
"No one works as hard as you, Annie. I really admire that about you," Mercedes's voice was soft as she stepped into the light. "I know you'll pass this exam with flying colors… so are you sure you need stay awake all night?"
"Of course I can! I didn't get this far only to quit!" Her voice was cheerful. The smile spreading across her lips felt heavy. Her eyelids felt heavy. Her shoulders felt heavy. Her heart felt heavy. But the only way to move forward was to smile, stay awake, and study.
Mercedes abruptly pivoted and fired off a healing spell. Its warm tendrils spread out from Annette's core, washing away all her earlier exhaustion. They were standing in the middle of Gronder Field, and the air was thick with the sound of steel and magic.
"Here's something to believe in!"
There was a glowing flash as the Sword of the Creator whizzed through the air at her side. Flesh and bone splintered as it met its mark, and another bandit collapsed to his knees with a strangled groan. Her professor stood over the man's corpse. His expression was devoid of malice or bloodlust. A ripple of admiration tinged with fear coursed through her at the sight of Byleth's ruthlessness. But she would expect nothing less from a renowned mercenary, and in times of war even a moment of hesitation could mean the difference between life and death.
I can do this.
Another blade whistled behind her. With a single, fluid movement her fingertips were outstretched, and her wind spell sliced through the air. The force knocked the bandit back into the bushes. Even with his body out of sight, Annette already knew he would never stand again. Taking lives in the heat of battle never got any easier, but it was necessary in war.
"Nice form."
The compliment was fleeting. Before she even had a moment to process it, Felix dashed ahead and cut down two more bandits. Every muscle in his neck was tense, his motions nimble and fierce as he glided along with each step. His crest glowed mid-strike and illuminated his face in a gentle light, a stark contrast to the flecks of blood spattering across his cheek as his blade sank into the shoulder of the next bandit.
His mouth was set in a grim frown.
The shouts and clamor of the battlefield grew softer and muffled. The hushed tones of the chapel's organ blanketed the air with a delicate hum. Annette's hands were clasped in prayer. The sounds of a familiar hymn floated overhead, and she couldn't help but raise her voice in joyous excitement.
I can do this.
"Singing is so much fun! Everyone should enjoy themselves while they're doing it!"
Felix sighed. He lowered his hands at the completion of their prayer. "Not sure I should sing with everyone. I'm not great at harmonizing," he grumbled.
His mouth was set in a grim frown once more.
"Don't say that," she chastised. "Besides, I think you did great!"
He continued to frown. She wondered when he last smiled. She wondered if she could make him smile. Smiles came so naturally to her, even more than songs. Her songs were her weapon, fending off insecurities and grief alike. Smiles were her armor. They kept her safe. They gave her the strength to keep protecting her friends.
She wondered if frowns were his armor.
I can do this.
Annette trailed behind him as he briskly walked across the monastery grounds. Felix hummed her newest song ahead of her. The sound was barely audible. His voice was low and steady, but the melody was undeniably hers. Was he smiling again like before? Loose strands of dark hair streamed behind him in the breeze. Hearing him murmuring her song under his breath left her chest feeling tight.
"Felix—!" she called out to him.
He stopped in his tracks.
Suddenly she worried the garden would collapse around her, just like the monastery halls as she chased after her father again and again without end. But it wasn't her father's back she was following this time.
"What?"
"I...want to see you smile again," she admitted. "Did my song make you smile? Do you know what it's about?" Even she wasn't sure what her song was about. Annette stepped up next to him and desperately wanted to look into his face for the answer. But that would be risky. Another frown, maybe a scowl, or worse—nothing at all; all were likely expressions, and none she had the heart to see after asking the question.
"If you have to ask, you didn't get the point of the song," he answered after a pause, still looking straight ahead.
I can do this.
She reached down and laced her fingers through his. Even though her subconscious wasn't entirely certain what the point of her song was, it felt right. Unlike her father's hand, this time Annette maintained her grip. She continued staring straight ahead while holding his hand, still afraid to look up at his face for answers. She wondered if he could feel her racing pulse through her fingertips.
Suddenly the scent of pine needles and leather tickled her nose as something warm and soft enveloped her. The all-too familiar sensation of the floor dropping out from underneath her returned, and Annette stirred.
Her back and neck were stiff. She blinked groggily.
The Blue Lions classroom was dark and silent. Underneath her arms laid the spellbook she had been reading, and to the side her candle flickered cheerfully. Its wick was much lower than she recalled when she initially sat down to study.
I must've fallen asleep…
The scent of pine and leather persisted even as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. As she sat up, her cheek brushed against something fluffy. Annette's fingers wandered to her side and grazed along the thick, heavy fabric draped across her shoulders. Someone must have covered her while she slept at the table.
This is…
She immediately jumped to her feet. The cobalt blue cloak draped across her shoulders slid to the floor. Its fur trim seemed to glow in the candlelight. Annette caught her breath as the realization dawned on her.
This is Felix's cloak.
Suddenly her chest felt tight again as a second realization occurred to her.
I'm going to have to return this to him.