Felix was certain at first it was just a figment of his imagination.

After all, that's how things typically panned out. And over the past several months those figments were becoming a regular part of his mornings, afternoons, evenings, and even occupying the space between dreams as he slept. So when another faint melody began to tickle his ears, Felix simply allowed himself to enjoy the moment and assumed it would vanish as quickly as it began.

Felix's footsteps slowed as he paced across the Garreg Mach grounds, coming to a halt in front of the bait and tackle stand by the monastery pond. He strained his ears at the sound. The tune continued to carry through the air. Normally by this point his recurring figments were quick to dissipate. But something was different.

I don't know this song.

His pulse quickened. He knew he wasn't creative enough to craft his own melody. Meaning this wasn't a figment at all. He tensed up in surprise as the realization dawned on him.

This is something new.

Where was it coming from? His eyes scanned the area. The sun was beginning to set, and barely anyone was out and about. Ashe sat at the docks, quietly fishing by himself, and the merchant at the tackle stand was in the process of closing up shop for the evening. No one was singing. Felix slowly pivoted and began walking towards the sound, as if pulled by invisible strings. His legs moved on their own, and he was powerless to stop them, even if he desired to do so.

A warm light radiated from the monastery greenhouse. With slow, cautious footsteps he slipped through the crack in the door. The air was warm and humid, thick with the scent of Garreg Mach's rare assortment of exotic and commonplace plants alike. He quietly stopped behind a large palm frond, peering through the leaflets. There was only one other occupant in the greenhouse, but Felix already knew that. There was no way Annette would ever sing with such openness if she knew there was an audience. A part of him was secretly pleased that no one else was around. He savored the private performance.

"Sprinkle and scatter, tiny seeds—

Fruit and veggie, flower or weed,

Grow big and strong, reach for the sun...

Your brand new life has just begun!"

She sang freely, interspersing her lyrics with a few spins and steps that were strongly reminiscent of the footwork the professor was demonstrating in battle recently. But instead of slinging around the Sword of the Creator, her weapon of choice was a packet of seeds, and its contents scattered in the air and peppered the fresh layer of soil beside her.

Felix couldn't help but admire Annette's ability to internalize their lessons and shape them into something that was wholly her own. Her imagination seemed to know no bounds. There was a time when he would've scoffed at that sort of creative adaptation. Life and death were clear-cut on the battlefield, and there was no space for inbetweens. Yet it was that same creativity she continued to demonstrate that repeatedly came to their aid. That same ingenuity that pulled them out of tight pinches on the battlefield. That same cleverness that made him feel inspired and demanded his attention. It was a new, different sort of strength, and he felt powerless in its presence.

Annette performed a little spin as she finished tossing the remaining contents of her seed packet across the soil. She smiled to herself, then tapped the base of the envelope, knocking free a few stragglers. "Nice try, guys. But you can't hide from me! I'm not about to let Ashe's hard work go to waste. All of you, in the soil! No slacking off!"

The sight of Annette outright chastising the laggard seeds was unexpected. He stifled a snort. It wasn't like they could hear her. Or maybe they could. She certainly sang as if it were possible.

"Morfis Plums and Pale-Blue Flower seeds… How on earth did he manage to scrounge this up?" Annette mused aloud, then quickly dusted her gloves off with a proud flourish.

Another song?

"Phew! Now the flowers are all taken care of!"

Huh. Guess that's that then.

His shoulders slumped with disappointment.

The setting sun cast an orange glow through the circular panes of the greenhouse's arched windows, scattering patterns across the stone floor. She seemed to glow in the light, and he couldn't help but stare. Even if she wasn't singing, the strings that pulled him towards the sound continued to tug at him. Felix stepped out from behind the palm, finally in her line of sight.

"Huh?" she finally noticed him, and they locked eyes. "Felix?"

Stupid. What am I doing?

Felix silently cursed himself. He hadn't actually thought this far ahead. He knew he wanted her attention, but he didn't know why. And he definitely didn't know what to actually do with her attention now that he had it.

"Why are you hiding there?"

"I'm not hiding."

"No?" Annette folded her arms, that same tone she used only moments earlier when chastising the packet of seeds creeping into her voice, "Then what are you here for?"

I have no idea.

"You don't even have a real reason, do you?"

"No, I don't."

He swallowed. No point in embellishing, even if a good excuse came to mind. 'I couldn't help myself,' no matter how truthful, was far worse than a simple 'no.'

"Then why…" Annette slowly uncrossed her arms. The edge in her voice softened. He had her attention at last, and the sensation of being under her close scrutiny was simultaneously exhilarating and petrifying all at once.

It's not song magic.

He had to remind himself. Because in the moment, it felt like he was trapped in the thrall of a high-level enchantment. And even worse, he definitely didn't feel any motivation to break free.

"Felix?"

"It's not magic," he affirmed to himself.

"I… what?" she turned a flustered shade of pink, glancing around the greenhouse as if there was a concealed enemy ready to pounce. "What are you talking about? What are you even doing here? Did you just come to make fun of me again!? Because—"

"Because of you."

"W-what? What's that supposed to mean?"

At this point he didn't care if it was embarrassing. It wasn't about Sylvain's suggestion to rid himself of whatever 'earworm' had worked its way into his constant waking and sleeping thoughts. It wasn't her singing. It wasn't her dancing. It wasn't the way the sunset caught the highlights in her hair and set them ablaze in a fiery glow. It wasn't even the endearing lilt in her voice every time she got embarrassed.

"It's not magic," he repeated. "It's you."

The pink color dusting her cheeks turned a darker, rosy hue. Just the sight sent a little spark of excitement radiating out from his chest.

Finally Annette regained her bearings and mustered a faint giggle. "I… well, yeah, it's me. There's no one else here. Were you looking for Ashe? We swapped our chores for the afternoon."

"I want you to sing for me," he said. The words began to tumble out before he had a chance to piece his thoughts together. "I hear your voice when I'm asleep, or in battle… It's like… it's like I'm your captive."

Whatever composure Annette managed to scrounge up immediately withered, and her face burned red. She stared at him, mouth agape and her fingers tangled in the fringe of her shawl. "My captive! What are you saying?" she squeaked. "Oh my, I'm suddenly really flustered…"

"I can't help it," he admitted.

Then again, I'm not exactly trying to help it.

His heart was pounding in his ears. It was definitely too late to take everything back. How could he be so impulsive? Maybe it was the humidity. Or perhaps the setting sun was making him disoriented. Either way, somehow through the heady rush clouding his better judgment, reality finally caught up to him, and he looked away. "Ugh! I don't know what I'm saying. Forget I said anything."

"Felix! Are you… blushing?"

His face felt hot, and he hated it.

"I don't know. Shut up. I'm not blushing."

Annette's eyes darted away from him, and she cleared her throat. He felt a pang of guilt for putting her on the spot. An unsteady silence fell between them. It wasn't the first time Felix requested Annette sing for him. But this time felt different. An all-too familiar 'fight or flight' instinct began to creep in, and unlike the battlefield he couldn't just brute force his way through an uncomfortable situation.

"Well!" she dusted herself off, her voice resuming its peppy cheer from moments earlier, "If you feel like that about it... I suppose I could sing for you sometimes. If you'd like that sort of thing," she quickly added.

"Oh?" his voice lifted, and he instantly regretted how eager it sounded.

I would like that.

The words died somewhere at the back of his throat.

Nevermind.

"I'd better go. Bye."

"Hey, wait!" she grabbed his arm. The skin underneath his sleeve prickled at her touch. "You just got here... Do you want to hear me sing or not?!"

"Uh, yes. I do."

"Well, what song do you want me to sing? Bears, swamp beasties, boxes, or dungeon?"

He knew there was more to that list. How could he not? He memorized them all. "I'd like to hear all of them," he said. Felix quickly sorted through the running collection of melodies he kept archived in the most treasured corners of his memory before settling on a long-standing favorite. "If you don't mind. Starting with The Library Song, in full."

"Well… okay. Just this once. Since you asked so nicely."

Annette smoothed the front of her dress and drew in a deep breath, then took a little bow to signify the start of her performance. Felix stood back, uncertain where to put his own hands. Should he fold his arms? Keep them at his sides? He wasn't the one performing, but what was the actual protocol for being a proper audience? If she was making the effort to perform for him, the least he could do was receive her songs respectfully.

Yet as soon as she began the first lines of The Library Song, his earlier concerns melted away. Somehow everything sounded even better than it did the first time he heard it. There were definitely some notable additions, and Felix found himself nodding along as the song reached its completion.

"—What a great job we did!

Who says building isn't fun?

Our new library is now clean for everyone!"

She did a little twirl in place again, dipped into a theatrical curtsy, then instantly launched into her next piece. Each tune was different, and each accompanying dance matched her tempo with the same sort of wholehearted sincerity that felt nothing like her earlier bashful tone. Annette's repertoire seemed bottomless. Bears, swamp beasties, boxes, dungeons, and a whole host of other pieces that were entirely new to Felix—she sang them all with reckless abandon.

The greenhouse was blanketed in a warm glow. The sun had long-since set, and the brass scones lining the walls twinkled. Light from the full moon overhead slipped through the domed ceiling's circular panes, painting the floor in a gentle glow. Annette stood radiant in its spotlight, the single performer on a single stage for a single audience member.

"Ah," she paused after completing the last stanza of her recent song, then cast him a furtive glance. "Just one more, okay?"

He nodded obediently. Felix knew the thought was foolish, but in the moonlight he worried that speaking aloud in the middle of her performance would somehow break whatever nonexistent magic spell lingered between them.

Annette drew closer and paced around him in a small circle, keeping him at arm's length. This wasn't fencing footwork. It took Felix a moment to realize it was the same initiation maneuver used to signify the start of the White Heron Cup's dance. He was impressed she still remembered it after five years had passed since the monastery's last celebration.

"A bitter lemon,

Sour and sharp,

You cut through every dish you meet…"

His breath caught in his chest as he waited for the next line. This was their song.

She raised an eyebrow and stopped in front of him. The next line never arrived. "Well?"

He stared back.

"You think I'm going to let you get off with a free performance?" Annette waved a beckoning hand, then took him by the arm, leading the dance. "I sang your part. Now it's your turn!"

Felix tentatively took a step into the moon's glow, sharing her spotlight. The sensation of her arm in his was impossible to ignore. He felt like he was one of the seeds in Annette's packet, jostled out of the corner and thrust into the open, forced to land in the soil and grow—whether he wanted to or not.

She stared up at him expectantly, and he struggled to find his voice. "Uh…"

"All…" she coaxed, offering a smile.

"All that's missing

To curb your edge…

Is a little dash of something sweet."

Instant regret washed over him the moment the lyrics left his lips. Stupid. Stupid. Why did he sing it? He could've just intoned it. Spoken it aloud. Hell, even a flat reading would sufficed. Anything would've been better than—

"Felix," she whispered, her eyes shining and her entire face aglow with moonlight and wonderment and whatever else it was that kept making it impossible to breathe, "you sang."

"That's… whatever," he grunted. "It's nothing. I'm not great at harmonizing."

"I didn't think you were going to actually—"

"It's nothing. Forget it."

Her cheeks grew pink again. "Well, I… I mean, you say you aren't great, but it doesn't matter! You did it!"

"I didn't come here to sing."

Annette's voice grew soft and low. "Then… what did you come here for?"

His heart thundered in his ears. She was close. So close. Almost as close as that day in the training hall when they spared together. And even though the song was over, they remained standing opposite each other in the traditional stance, her hands resting on his arms. After an agonizingly slow moment, he realized she was still waiting for a response.

"I… I came to hear you sing."

"To hear me sing."

"Yes."

She lowered her eyes. Were her lashes always so long? He didn't want to stare, but there was nowhere else to look, and Felix didn't want to be the first to break away. She played with the fringe of her shawl, and opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated as if she were grappling with something. "Well… if singing is what you were looking for," she said, "you're in luck, I guess."

"I am?"

Annette's hold on his arms tightened. She rose up on her toes and brushed her lips against his cheek. The sensation was light and fleeting, over as quickly as it started.

"I'm your girl," she murmured.

He froze in place.

She released his arms and bolted out the greenhouse door, leaving Felix alone in the moonlight.