A steady spring rain gently drummed against the windowpane as the last cup of tea was placed on its matching saucer with care. Annette stood back and admired how tidy Mercedes's table looked. A stack of sweets rested atop a tiered platter at the center, their glazed icing shimmered enticingly. Even in wartime, somehow her friend managed to conjure up just the right ingredients despite the ongoing rationing.
Ingrid appeared just as impressed and cast a curious look across the decadent spread. "Mercedes, if I didn't know any better, I'd be questioning where you were getting your ingredients…"
"I'm just resourceful, that's all!" Mercedes giggled, "You can find plenty of traditional recipes listed in some of the older books in the library, they're written specifically for difficult times like these."
"I never doubted your resourcefulness," a small smile pulled at the corner of Ingrid's lips, "although… there are four teacups. Don't tell me Sylvain is actually coming after all?"
Annette reached for a cookie and fumbled. Sylvain's attendance had a whole slew of other implications, including a possible discussion regarding a certain swordsman. "T-this was supposed to be just us girls!"
"It is, we're just waiting for—"
A polite rapping at the door interrupted them. Mercedes glided over and welcomed in their last guest. "Oh, Flayn! I'm so glad you were able to make it!"
Whew. It's just Flayn...
"I must apologize for my tardiness," Flayn swept into a courteous bow, her green curls bobbing along, "My brother was quite insistent on knowing all the details surrounding the nature of my engagement. It was rather vexing, to say the least."
"Surely a simple tea party isn't cause for concern," Ingrid answered. "He knows all of us well enough by now."
"That's right!" Annette piped up, "it's important to spend time with friends, even during war. It keeps our spirits up, after all!"
There was a mischievous twinkle in Flayn's eyes. She nestled herself into the remaining chair, Mercedes following suit. "Of course he does. However, this is more than just a simple tea party, is it not?"
"It...it is?"
"But of course! I have heard of this ritual in many a book. In fact, it is something I have been dearly hoping to partake in myself!"
Annette exchanged a glance with Ingrid from across the table. The blonde shrugged and took another cookie from the tray. Whatever Flayn was referencing was news to them both. Mercedes, however, appeared completely unphased and continued to pour tea with a gracious smile.
"Well? What's this ritual?" Ingrid dunked her cookie in the teacup.
"It is the age-old art of girltalk," Flayn enunciated with relish. "Where one partakes in the company of her fellow womankind, and they talk about all kinds of things amongst themselves. It is as old as the very concept of camaraderie itself!"
"Oh! Mercie and I do that all the time! I'm sure it will be even more fun with four of us!" Annette let loose a little sigh. Flayn was always a bit of a wild card, and all this talk of "rituals" left her feeling nervous. But if her request was a simple chat amongst friends...
Mercedes covered the teapot with a knit cozy before settling back into her chair. "What shall we talk about then?"
"Anything is permissible, although perhaps we would do well to stay away from...heavier topics," Flayn answered delicately. The implication behind her words was clear—the ongoing war was off the table. Not that Annette minded. If anything, maybe this was just the kind of distraction she needed.
The four of them sat in silence, each contemplating a topic for discussion. Annette stared down at her reflection rippling at the surface of her tea and bit her lip. There was a topic she sorely wished to talk about, but embarrassment, confusion, and a whole host of other foreign emotions held her back.
Maybe I misunderstood Ashe's interpretation. It's just a story, after all.
Annette's initial suggestion to pull together a tea party was starting to feel like a bad idea. Things would've been much simpler if she confided directly in Mercedes instead of getting other people involved. But now it was too late, and her question was stubbornly lodged at the forefront of her mind, unasked and unanswered.
What did he mean in asking to be my adjutant?
"The professor upgraded my lance yesterday," Ingrid nodded after a moment. "It's definitely an improvement."
"Ah, the professor. He is quite interesting, is he not?"
"He has a good eye for workmanship. My lance feels lighter and handles better than ever before."
Flayn pouted. Ingrid's choice in topic was obviously not appealing to her. "Yes, the professor is a man of exceptional taste! He is like the ocean, deep and full of mystery."
Mercedes giggled. "Flayn…" she took a sip from her teacup, "if you wanted to talk about boys, why didn't you just say so?"
"W-whatever do you mean? I made no such claim!"
"It's okay, there's no need to worry. We won't tell Seteth."
Despite the mild spring chill, Annette suddenly felt the back of her neck perspire and desperately wished Mercedes had decided to tell scary ghost stories instead.
"Boys," Ingrid rolled her eyes. "Really? Of all the topics we could discuss, that's what you want to talk about?"
"Yes!"Flayn nearly bounced out of her seat. "I-I mean, if that is agreeable with you. This is often regarded as a common topic amongst women during such a gathering, and...as you can see, these are not the sorts of things one talks about with their brother."
"Oh Flayn," Mercedes sighed. Annette knew that tone of voice very well. Her friend's Big Sister Senses were awake and in full force. "You definitely should have said something! You can talk about anything you like around us!"
"Wonderful! Please, let us commence with the discussion!"
Ingrid finished her next cookie. "Not sure what there is to talk about. Anyone in particular?"
"There is no particular order. I wish to hear about each person of interest. Just like one might do in the stories!"
Annette pressed her teacup to her lips but couldn't bring herself to drink.
Maybe I'm being silly. I mean, these are my friends! This whole thing could be a misunderstanding, right?
"Interest, huh?" Ingrid grabbed another cookie with a faint laugh. "Okay, you want to hear interesting? Just yesterday, Sylvain actually noticed my makeup!"
"Oh!" Mercedes clapped her hands together. "So you've been using the palette Annie and I gave you?"
"W-well, yes, I wasn't about to let it go to waste."
"I see, how wonderful!"
"I do enjoy it," Ingrid admitted, "I shouldn't have been so judgmental about it in the first place. Although I'm pretty sure out of every man around, Sylvain is probably the most likely to notice," she chuckled and polished off her second cup of tea. "Of course, we'd have something to worry about if someone like Felix noticed—"
"F-Felix asked to be my adjutant!" Annette suddenly blurted out.
Mercedes drew a long, slow sip of tea.
"Wait," Ingrid coughed and set her teacup down. "What? Felix? You're joking."
"No! He… we… we were sparring, and then...and…" she flustered before everything came tumbling out in a jumbled rush, "and then he asked to be my adjutant, so I said yes, but then I went to the library, and I was researching different spell configurations that would work well with an adjutant who's suited to using a sword, but the entire time I've been feeling really confused about the whole thing, and then Ashe stopped by, and he was telling me about this story of his, and then he told me Felix was just like a knight in the story, and...and…"
Flayn leaned forward in her chair, her teacup all but forgotten. Her green eyes were shining. This definitely felt like a bad idea now if it didn't before.
"Oh no," Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Oh no?" Flayn echoed curiously.
"Oh no," Mercedes set her teacup down and glanced at Ingrid.
"D-don't you all 'oh no' me!" Annette felt her voice crack and swallowed back her rising embarrassment.
Mercedes folded her hands and turned to address Ingrid directly. "I feel partly responsible for this, I should have been a little more clear with you, Ingrid…"
"No," Ingrid protested, "I'm the one who made the suggestion. It sounded harmless enough. How was I supposed to know you were referring to—"
"Um…"
"Annette," Ingrid sighed, "I told Ashe he should ask you to pair with him as your adjutant this month."
"Y-you… what?"
"Actually, I was considering serving as…someone's adjutant for the next battle."
Ashe's offhand comment quickly sprang to her memory. At the time, Annette was so focused on her own thoughts, she barely paid it much mind. Nor did she give it a second thought when he brushed her off later when she asked for more information.
But then… the knight in the story...
"The topic came up when I was having tea with Mercedes last week. We were talking about how often you seem to get stuck being an adjutant, and that you've been working too hard to get sidelined like that. So when Ashe approached me asking if you were available for this month's battle, it just seemed like a logical suggestion."
"All this talk of adjutants," Flayn leaned back into her chair with a small huff. "I do not see what all the fuss is about. Is this not the natural course of battle planning? I myself have served as an adjutant many a time with no commotion."
"Typically it is, but—"
"Flayn," Mercedes laced her fingers together, her voice soft and sweet, "Have you ever read the book, Tales of the Knights of Alleyne Abbey by any chance?"
"Oh yes! It is a most delightful story."
Mercedes resumed sipping her tea in silence, offering no further explanation. The lights slowly went on in Flayn's eyes. Annette was beginning to feel like the only person in the entire monastery who hadn't yet read this book, but she already knew the meaning behind Mercedes's words.
"Oh!" Flayn chirped excitedly. Another moment passed, then her shoulders slumped. "Oh. Oh no."
Oh no, indeed…
"I-It's fine!" Annette jumped from her chair, knocking it to the ground with a clatter. Her face was feeling uncomfortably hot. "I'm going to the storeroom to fetch more tea!"
"Annette—"
"Don't worry, please keep eating!"
Annette could feel the watchful eyes of her friends following her as she sprinted from the room. They didn't need more tea. There was plenty of tea in the pot. But she wanted to get as far away as possible from the discussion, and the only way to do so was to leave. Her feet carried her through the echoing halls of the monastery without thinking, her heart racing and her face burning with embarrassment.
What am I doing?
What's wrong with me?!
The dining hall was mercifully empty. Annette quietly slipped into the storeroom, leaving the door barely ajar to let light in. Despite being in a smaller space, she finally felt relaxed. No prying eyes, no speculative comments, and no talks of stories and adjutants.
She exhaled with relief.
The entire back wall of the pantry was a single shelf, stretching from floor to ceiling and fully stacked with rows of boxes and bags of dried goods. Annette quietly ran her fingertips along the edge of the boxes of dried tea leaves. As her nerves settled, she relaxed into an old, familiar song, her mood gradually brightening.
"So many boxes, stacked up high,
"So many boxes, I wonder why,
"Stack them up, knock them down,
"Peer inside and look around,
"Boxes as far as the eye can see,
"Somewhere there's the perfect box for me!"
"You could just… open the boxes and check the contents, you know."
Oh no.
Annette whirled around, accidentally knocking several boxes of tea off the edge of the shelf. "W-what are you doing here?!"
"I could ask the same of you," Felix shrugged. He stood in the pantry doorway, one hand on his hip and the other rumpling through his hair in thought as he watched her closely. A sliver of light from the dining hall trickled in behind him. "I'm on kitchen duty today, not you."
"W...well...I...I was looking for tea!"
Felix's eyes wandered down to the scattered boxes at her feet. "It looks like you found it."
"Y-yes. Yes, I did."
Annette swallowed. She was beginning to feel as though her singing had become a honing signal, summoning Felix from across the monastery in the blink of an eye. Then again, such a skill might prove useful, especially in battle. The mental image of Felix whizzing across the battlefield towards her side upon hearing a simple song was humorous. She couldn't help but grin at the thought.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh! No, nothing. I just—ah, I was thinking of the upcoming battle!" Annette crouched and began gathering up the boxes of tea.
"I don't see how that's something worth smiling over," he responded and knelt opposite her. "Let me help you with that."
He was close again. Her heart did a little leap. The way his hair fell across his forehead made Annette want to reach over and brush it away. "I know it's not," she answered hesitantly, "but for this next battle… well, it's better to smile than be scared, right?"
Felix stopped and looked back down at the box in his hand, then met her eyes. The little leap in her chest became a tumbling somersault. "It'd be foolish not to be scared. This entire campaign is a reckless fool's errand," he said. Despite his words, the tone of his voice was not unkind.
Annette opened her mouth to respond, then froze in place. The sound of footprints drew near. There was nothing wrong with being in the pantry with Felix, but the idea of getting caught together for some reason felt almost scandalous.
"—making the final preparations?"
"Indeed. The odds are not in our favor, but all we can do is place our trust in the professor."
Felix frowned, his sight still locked on her. She bit her lower lip. There was no mistaking it. Her father's voice was immediately recognizable, and Rodrigue Fraldarius's was just as familiar. The idea of getting caught in the pantry by their fathers was infinitely more embarrassing. She sensed Felix tense at the sound of his father's voice. He clearly had no desire to be discovered either. They both seemed to breathe in sync as they listened in silence.
"We've done well to get this far," Rodrigue added after a pause, "never did I imagine it would come to this. And with his Highness in his current state..."
Her father sighed. "None of us anticipated this five years ago," he answered, his voice low and weary, "I was trusted to protect the future of the nation. And I will do all I can to keep that promise."
"Yes," Rodrigue began, but the remainder of his response was too far away to hear. Their footsteps tapered off, leaving the pantry blanketed in silence once more.
"A fool's errand," Felix repeated quietly, tracing his thumb across the box's handwritten label before rising to his feet and placing it back on the shelf. "Spearheaded by a foolish, crazed boar. And we're all fools to go along with it, blindly following his lead. There's a very good chance we'll die."
Something stirred inside her. The reason behind his request to become her adjutant didn't matter anymore. This was more important.
"No!"
"No? Be sensible. You know I'm right."
"N-not that!" Annette sprang up. A strange rush of courage coursed through her. "None of us are going to die. I'm not going to die. You're not going to die. I won't let you," she impulsively grabbed his hands, "After all, you're my adjutant. I'll protect everyone...I'll keep you safe!"
"Tch," he looked away, the tips of his ears turning red. She felt his fingers curl tighter around her hands. "Don't be stupid. That's what an adjutant is supposed to do."
"Since when were you so focused on following battle formation rules?" she teased.
"Since when were you so keen to break them?"
"I…"
Good question.
She glanced down at his hands in hers and snapped away in haste. Annette silently cursed herself for letting her pride get the best of her. Because it was obviously pride. Pride in proving him wrong, pride in proving she was fit to have him as an adjutant—pride. Definitely pride. Absolutely pride.
Her cheeks felt warm. It wasn't pride.
Oh no.
"Here," Felix cleared his throat and handed her a box of tea. The design of the box was unfamiliar, perhaps one of the new blends Mercedes selected. "Your tea."
"Oh! Yes, the tea. Thank you!"
Her hands closed around the box. She wanted to hold his hands again instead. They stared at each other in silence.
"It's the perfect box," he said finally.
"W-what?"
Felix scowled. "Your song."
"My...you mean The Box Song?"
"Remember? 'Somewhere there's the perfect box for me,'" he recited dryly as if reading from one of Professor Byleth's lecture papers. "Now you have one. So it's concluded."
"Oh!" she clutched the box closer. "I...I guess so!"
Felix frowned again. His ears were still red. "I have to go. Kitchen duty. Bye."
Light spilled into the pantry as he swung open the door and walked away. Annette drew a deep breath as she watched his back. It felt like she hadn't breathed in hours.
"The perfect box for me," she murmured to herself as her eyes drifted across the handwritten label.
Lemon Verbena.