Chapter 1: Stuck in My Head

Felix raised his blade high, easily blocking the soldier's attack. But his opponent's sword was larger and desperation flashed through his eyes, that of someone who already knew the battle was lost. Such an enemy was capable of an unpredictable, unhinged attack. Felix had to put some distance between them.

Digging his back foot into the dirt, Felix pushed the soldier off, swiping his sword through the air. Before the man recovered, he followed up with a swift shoulder charge to his chest. His foe stumbled backwards, barely standing.

Felix held his sword at the ready for the next attack. But the soldier suddenly turned tail and fled. Just like the hundreds of other soldiers retreating from Enbarr. The battle was won.

Behind him, his soldiers cheered and some chased after the fleeing army. Felix surveyed the battlefield for a minute, reveling in the victory. The worst was over. He could finally relax for a moment.

Oh, how I just love to clean. Clean the library room!

Except for that. He groaned and shook his head. Everytime he stopped for a moment, that song, or one of Annette's many other tunes rooted in his brain, refusing to let him rest. He had even been humming a few during the battle, despite his best efforts to focus on the fighting.

As if on cue, a fireball exploded in the distance. Running through the smoke and ash was the short girl herself, leading her own squadron of mages into the city. Her face was set and determined, and her red hair flared and swept around her like the flames of her spells. Even from this distance, he felt he could almost hear her voice. That melodic voice that haunted his dreams and quiet moments.

Just takes a flash of light and then it all goes boom!

A hand clapped his shoulder and he raised his sword, prepared to strike. Only it was another redhead, a more irritating one, who stood by his side.

"Something on your mind?" Sylvain asked, leaning on his spear.

Felix didn't lower his blade. "No."

"Really? I can't help but notice you seem to be paying attention to a certain gremory in the city."

Felix frowned and for the hundredth time cursed the vile rumor mill that circulated throughout their army. After he had asked Annette to sing for him, that information had somehow reached Sylvain. He assumed she might have mentioned it to Mercedes, as they were good friends, but he still couldn't fathom how it had bounced around and finally wound up at the smiling fool next to him now.

He had considered asking Mercedes herself, but realized that would get back to Annette. And he didn't want to ask Annette either. Ever since he had met with her and listened to her entire catalog of songs, the euphoric high he felt during the performance had morphed into awkward anxiety. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone.

Sylvain hadn't helped, as when he found out and confronted Felix about it, he had delighted in what he called "good-natured teasing" for a while. "Oh, Annette. Won't you regal my flinty heart with your songs about cakes and pies? Only your melodies can sooth the savage beast within?" he had said, putting on a mocking, stern tone.

While Felix had blocked most of it out and ignored him, one point did stick with him that Sylvain offered as advice. "It's a little weird," he said. "Not that hearing someone sing for you is a bad thing, but from the way I heard it, you came off as a little, well, intense. And strange."

That coupled with his own misgivings about the situation had kept him far from Annette since then. He hadn't needed to make many excuses. The last few weeks of the war had kept everyone so busy that avoiding her was easy. But now with the war at its end, there wouldn't be much of an excuse now.

He would have to approach Annette at some point and work through this. And afterwards-

He blinked. Afterwards? What came after? He didn't know. He didn't even know where they stood at this point. Were they still only comrades-in-arms? Friends? Something more? He didn't have any idea. Certainly his begging for a private song performance didn't help. What exactly had that laid the foundation for? He had so many questions circling around his head and no answers. Only her incessant singing like his mind was trying to calm him, but it only served to bring the problem more to the forefront.

He needed someone with experience, someone to advise him. He ran through the options in his mind even as the sounds of battle faded into the distance.

Mercedes? A close friend with Annette, but again, he didn't want anything getting back to the object of his focus.

Ingrid? She didn't exactly scream experience with dating.

His highness? No, the boar could barely hold himself together, much less provide advice.

That left only one person.

"Felix?" Sylvain cocked an eyebrow. "You've been quiet for an awfully long time. Don't tell me she's put a spell on that attitude of yours too."

He frantically ran through any other possible options. Claude and his whole troupe were far off, fighting their own battles against the Empire's remnants. And the people that Byleth had managed to recruit from the Empire to their side, Felix didn't trust to really spill himself to.

Which led him back to the same answer as before.

"Sylvain," he said slowly, already regretting asking, "I need to speak with you later."

"About what?"

"Later," he emphasized. "Now's not the time. I'll come by your tent tonight."

"Okay. But if you hear something going on inside, then you should-"

He didn't stay around to hear what he should do. Felix marched his troops into the city proper where the rest of the army seemed to gather.

The city hadn't suffered as much damage as they feared. Some buildings were scorched and soldiers were already at work to put out fires and evacuate any citizens in the city to safer areas. The cobble streets of the outer city slowly gave way to smooth paved slabs as the buildings shifted from shops and small businesses to imposing government centers and opulent homes for high-ranking officials.

All along the roads, piles of broken weapons lay to the side, as did injured and fallen soldiers sporting burns, stab wounds, dismembered limbs, and worse that seemed to highlight the ferocity of the final battle. Medics and white mages ran around the battlefield, tending to those they could with all their resources.

In the middle of the city, the capital building stood tall and proud like a gleaming beacon, surrounded by white-washed towers and a gold-domed center rising above the rest. Felix crossed the gated bridge towards it, overtaking his troops and leading them to the massive collection of Faerghus' army in front of the capital building.

The crowd around the capital building was at least fifty people thick. Felix found a small dais nearby and hopped up its steps, scanning the front of the crowd. By the capital doors, the king himself stood tall, the professor by his side.

"We have brought this tyranny to an end," Dimitri said and raised his lance high in the air. "This day belongs not only to Faerghus, but all of Fodlan!"

Cheers and hurrahs rang through the troops, and they called well-wishes to him. "The Goddess bless your kingdom!" and "May His Majesty's reign be long!"

Dimitri continued to address them, but Felix only partially paid attention. He noticed the king's stance, how he favored his lance, and how Byleth had her hands hidden behind him, as if supporting him. His large cloak was folded in, obscuring his left side.

The fool's injured and he's giving a speech. Unbelievable. Felix searched the army for Dedue. Perhaps together, they could help Byleth carry Dimitri to a medical tent for treatment.

As he swept his eyes for the tall man, he landed on a shock of red hair among the sea of armor nearby. Annette hopped up and down, trying and failing to see what was happening. As though she sensed his eyes on her, she looked up, noted his position, and pushed through the crowd to join him on the dais.

Felix cursed silently to himself. He did not want to be near Annette right now. No, that wasn't true. He wanted to be, more than anything, but he didn't know if he could handle it without embarrassing himself again. Yet if he hopped down from the platform now, he would rouse suspicion. Already, his heart seemed to race like he was in battle once more and his hands lost all feeling. He wasn't ready for this.

"Felix," a deep voice said to his side, snapping him out of his rising anxiety. He looked down at Dedue, the taciturn man himself facing forward toward Dimitri. "Are you aware of the king's status?" he asked, subtly emphasizing the last word.

By then, Annette was almost at the platform. Felix took the opportunity to quickly step down and bow his head in conversation with Dedue. "Yes, I am. Keep your voice down." He glanced at the soldiers nearby. There was no need to panic anyone until they assessed the situation.

Behind him, Annette had a puzzled expression on her face. He felt terrible leaving, but assured himself that duty called. "Let's get him out of there so he doesn't make a fool of himself."

"I told you, I'm quite alright," Dimitri said, waving off the medics and white mages attending him. "There's still much to do." He swung his leg out of the cot and once again, Byleth, Dedue, Felix, and Mercedes all stood in his way, forming a wall.

"Your Majesty," Dedue said, spreading his arm.

With a sigh, Dimitri sank back into the cot. "It was minor, only a dagger." He was right on that front. Once his armor had been removed, the wound wasn't that deep and the white magic was already taking effect, slowly knitting the skin. It would soon be just one of any number of scars littering his chest and arms.

"You still need to rest," Byleth said. "Please?"

The king opened his mouth, but instead simply nodded and laid back.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you all to leave for now," Mercedes said, folding her arms in front of her and bowing. "We need the room to work."

"Is it alright if I stay?" Byleth asked as Felix and the others took their leave. She nodded and the professor sat on the cot beside Dimitri, speaking to him quietly. Felix could only hope she was talking some sense into him.

With the moon rising, Dedue went to the mess hall to help prepare a late dinner. Felix wandered the camp, not in the mood for eating. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and he yearned to head to the sparring area for practice. That always cleared his head.

Somehow though, he knew that wouldn't fix the one problem pestering him. No, for that, he needed to keep his promise. With great trepidation, he headed for Sylvain's tent, throwing open the flap.

Of course, he fumed as he examined the empty tent. No Sylvain. Why am I not surprised?

Exiting the tent, he searched the darkening camp for Sylvain and eventually found him, chatting up a handful of Enbarr women.

"Yeah, I'm one His Majesty's closest knights," Sylvain said, winking at one of the young women. "The king relied on me to handle some of the big missions during the war. Any of you lovely ladies ever been to Fhirdiad? I wouldn't mind being your personal guide."

Felix stalked over to Sylvain, grabbing and gouging his fingers deep in his shoulder. The redhead winced as Felix jerked him down lower. "A word with you. Remember?"

"Oo, yes, yes, I remember." He put on a brave smile for the women and tipped his fingers to them. "Ladies, if you'll excuse me."

Felix dragged him to the training grounds, far too restless now to simply stay in a tent. Sylvain matched his pace, stretching his arms and folding his hands behind his head. "I don't know if you heard, but we won. You could smile for a change."

"And you could not regress to your skirt-chasing for a change."

He shrugged. "Give me a break. We've been fighting for months and haven't had a chance to rest. What's wrong with some light flirting to blow off a little steam?"

As they entered the training yard, Felix grabbed a pair of dull swords and threw one to Sylvain. "You want to blow off steam?" He held up his weapon and shifted his feet into a defensive form. "Then come at me."

Sylvain rolled his eyes, holding the sword over his shoulder. "I thought you wanted to talk."

"I do. Now come at me."

With a sigh, he adopted an attack pose and rushed Felix, delivering a quick series of slashes at different angles. Left, high, low to the side. Every one Felix parried until he reached the edge of the yard. He gracefully dodged one more attack and circled around Sylvain.

"My turn," he said.

As they returned to their starting positions in the center of the yard, Sylvain studied him. "Let me guess. You're wanting to ask about Annette, aren't you?"

Felix's eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed to mere slits. "Who told you?"

"No one. But why else would you ask to meet with me? Not to talk shop about weapons or strategy." He shook his head. "Truth is, you don't have many options and I'm your best bet. Am I right?"

He barely waited for Sylvain to ready himself before swiping at him. Sylvain managed to parry or dodge most of them, but Felix caught him in the ribs a couple of times. "As much as I hate to admit it," he said, once he forced Sylvain back to the edge of the yard, "you're right. You are the only one I can ask about this."

"You're wanting to know about the next step," he said, his cocky grin further deepening Felix's own frown. "After your desperate request for a little concert in the greenhouse."

"Keep your voice down," Felix said, eyeing some soldiers walking past. "I don't know where I stand with her at this point or what I should do."

"Have you asked her about it?"

"There hasn't been time," he said, which wasn't technically untrue. The war had kept him on his toes and swamped with work. But there were a few instances where he could've pulled Annette aside and talked to her about the situation. Yet whenever the opportunity arose, his limbs grew ice cold and he lost his voice.

Sylvain peered at him, as if reading his thoughts, and sighed. "Then that's not good. Now it'll seem to her that you're acting weird about the whole thing. First pouring out your feelings and then suddenly turning a cold shoulder for weeks."

"So what do I do?" he asked between gritted teeth.

"My advice? A celibate priesthood to keep you from embarrassing yourself again. Relax, it was a joke!" he said, pulling Felix back. "I would say cool off for a while. Don't exactly shut her out completely, but just act normal. Wait a while for her to, hopefully, forget about it and then try again."

"And what do I do when I try again?"

Sylvain tapped the hilt of his sword against Felix's forehead. "Use your head. Do what normal people do. A nice outing, perhaps a date. Not confessing your love and proposing to her."

"I didn't confess my love to her," Felix said, looking down at the ground.

"Right." Sylvain cleared his throat, put his sword hilt to his chest, and raised his other hand in the air. "'I hear your voice when I'm asleep, or in battle. I'm your captive, Annette.' Ow, ow, ow!" Sylvain laughed and held up his hands as Felix whacked his again and again with the flat of the blade.

"Quiet!" Felix hissed, his face on fire and his eyes darting everywhere, afraid someone heard.

"Yeah, you got it bad." Sylvain jerked a thumb at the mess hall. "Let's go get some food. I'll give you some more pointers on the way."