Chapter 5: Fears Realized

Annette busied herself the rest of the day, hoping that her fears were simply an overreaction. She longed to talk to Felix more, but if she ran off searching for him, the rumors would surely start again. So she helped with packing the camp as much as possible.

Or rather, she tried to. Her mind kept wandering to Felix, leaving her body to the hands of fate - always the practical jokester in Annette's experience. Which is how she knocked over several stacks of dishes, pots, and pans in the kitchen, breaking several of them. And how when packing tents, she accidentally stowed several people's belongings all together across dozens of chests and bags. And how when even given the simple task of delivering messages, most were hurriedly delivered without checking the names. Which is how the quartermaster ended up delivering sacks of flour to the training yard and a confused monk wound up in a general planning meeting with Enbarr city officials.

"I'm sorry, really, I am," Annette said again to a soldier as Dedue handed him the correct message. The soldier saluted smartly and walked off.

"Maybe you could feed the horses," Dedue said, exhausted from running around to fix all the recent message mishaps.

That sounded like a good idea to her. However, even the basic chores had a chance to go wrong today. She needed to settle things. Felix had been gone for hours and the sun was almost beyond the horizon. She believed it had been more than enough time.

As Dedue escorted her to the stables, she tried to casually make small talk. "Seems like everyone's so busy today. I'll bet Dimitri's running on fumes."

"You're not wrong," he said. "I've been trying to make sure he gets more sleep, but I keep finding him up late at night in his tent. Although," he scratched the stubble on his chin, "I did catch him napping about an hour ago."

"Oh, did he do something different?"

"No, but the professor was stroking his head and sitting beside him." Dedue paused. "I'm not sure it was my place to say that."

Annette blew a raspberry. "Oh, c'mon. Everyone knows about those two." He still seemed perturbed that he had let that spill, so she seized the opportunity. "But I've hardly even seen Mercedes or Ingrid."

His shoulders relaxed at the topic change. "Ingrid left the camp with Felix and Sylvain. They'll meet us in Garreg Mach."

It was her turn to stop short. "Wait, what? What do you mean?"

"They had a private matter to attend to," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

Felix had left? So suddenly? "Do you know when they left?"

"Um, some time earlier today," he said. "After he met with Dimitri and the messenger that came to camp. Wait, what's wrong?"

But she was already off like a shot, sprinting through the camp like the wind. She ducked and twirled around soldiers and refugees, accidentally knocking over a stand of merchandise or two. "Sorry, so sorry!" she called out behind her and kept running.

Within minutes, she burst into Dimitri's tent, completely out of breath. Byleth sat in the chair beside the king, just like Dedue had mentioned. Her former professor looked up and stood, but Annette held up a finger.

"Where," she wheezed and Byleth helped her to the chair, "I mean, I need to ask him something," she said.

By that time, Dimitri had awoken and sat up in bed. "By the Goddess, how long did I sleep?"

"Not long," Byleth promised.

He blinked blearily at her, then at Annette, his eye focusing in on her. "Annette, what is it?"

"Today," she said, finally catching her breath, "your meeting with Felix, when did he leave?"

He yawned and swung his legs over the edge. "Felix?" he asked, rolling out the kinks in his back. "He left right after the meeting. There was an urgent matter he needed to attend to."

"Just like that?" She couldn't believe that. Not after their trip in the forest. He wouldn't leave without telling her, would he? "Did he say anything before he left?"

"That he would see you later."

She looked between him and Byleth, waiting for more, but nothing came. "T-That's it?"

"That was all he told me to tell you."

He left.

Felix left.

She repeated it over and over, the words slowly sinking in, and all he had said was that he would see her later. Like she was a casual acquaintance or just another battlefield ally.

So her fears came true. She had pushed too far and too fast. Because of that, he had quietly left without so much as a word. Now they would return to the previous mile-wide gulf between them. She couldn't deal with that. She hadn't meant to rush things. If she had only had a chance to fix this, she knew she could've.

She was upset and mad at herself. And Felix as well. She thought he cared for her. That emotion in his face when they had been in the woods. That had been real, hadn't it? Or was it all an act? Some cruel trick to keep her at bay because he didn't feel the same?

That isn't like him. Why would he leave without at least seeing her though? Or saying something else besides a simple farewell?

It's not fair, she thought, closing her eyes and trying to hold back the tears.

"Your Highness," Byleth said from what sounded far off, "don't you have a meeting with some of your advisors?"

"Oh right," he said and his footsteps hurriedly exited the tent.

The next thing Annette knew, Byleth wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. The professor didn't say anything, but she acted as though she already knew the whole situation. Annette buried her face in the Byleth's shoulder, doing her best to still hold together.

Byleth stroked her hair and Annette sobbed, the first tear finally falling.

It took a while, but Annette calmed down enough to accompany Byleth to the mess hall. She wasn't particularly hungry and picked at her food most of the time, pushing around the bits of vegetables and rice. Even the offer of the professor's strawberry tart didn't interest her.

Gustave found them after a while and took a seat beside his daughter. "I'm glad you're here," he said. "Sorry we haven't had much time together. I've been assisting His Highness and Dedue all day."

Annette nodded and forced a small smile. "It's okay."

"Are you sure?" He craned his neck, staring at her. She was certain she had dried her face completely, yet held very still all the same.

"Positive," she said.

Byleth politely excused herself and left the table.

"If you're sure," he said. "I'd like to make up for it though. I spoke with the king and he's granted me the next few days off before we need to leave. I thought you and I could spend some time together."

"Really?"

"Sure. Whatever you want to do. We have a lot of time to make-up for after all."

She could certainly use that. She needed some distraction from today. If Felix wanted to keep her at arm's length, then she would happily spend her time with others who did want be with her. Wrapping her tiny arms around him, she beamed. "Yes, that sounds great."

"C'mon, tell me."

"No."

"Tell me."

"No."

Sylvain stuck an annoying finger in Felix's face. "I know you want to tell me."

All day long, Sylvain had prodded and nagged Felix incessantly. The redhead had quickly picked up that something had happened that day and pestered him to no end about it.

"Look," Sylvain set his bowl aside and sat forward, looking at Felix across the small campfire between them. "I heard tell from one of the other soldiers that you were gone from camp for a while. Not sure where, but they did see that you weren't alone. Had a little gremory in tow when you returned, didn't you?"

Felix ate quietly, ignoring him. This had already been a very long day with its various ups and downs. All he wanted was to finish his meal, start his evening watch, then go to sleep.

"What are you bothering him about now, Sylvain?" Ingrid asked, sitting next to them.

He shot a glare across the fire at Sylvain, warning him. "Nothing," the other man said. "Just trying to give him some advice."

"About Annette?"

Felix choked on his food and threw the bowl on the ground. "You told her!" he said, pointing an accusing finger at the annoying idiot.

"I didn't!" he said, hand over his heart. "Honest!"

"It's no secret," she said, backing Sylvain up. "What other kind of advice could you be getting from him?"

"Not sure how to take that," Sylvain muttered.

She picked up a stick, stoking the fire. "Let me guess," she drew smokey circles in the air, "he told you to play it cool, casual. Act like nothing happened. That about right?"

"Essentially," Felix said. "How do you know?"

"Because he's predictable," she jabbed the stick at Sylvain, then back at him, "and you're naïve. Why didn't you ask someone else?"

He sneered. "Who then? The numerous dating coaches in our army?"

"Okay, then why not talk to Annette herself? What's the worst that could happen?"

"She could laugh in his face," Sylvain said. "I know I did when I heard about the greenhouse." For the hundredth time, he stood up on his rock seat like a melodramtic theater performer, and monologued to the heavens, "I hear your voice when I'm asleep or in battle. I'm your captive, Annette. Your prisoner."

Ingrid swatted Sylvain in the shin with the stick. He yelped, grabbed his leg, and fell off his rock seat, face-planting into the dirt. "Or maybe she would be happy to see him. After all, she was curious enough to ask me about Felix."

"Really?" Felix scooted closer to her. "What did she say?"

"She seemed worried that there was some distance between the two of you. I explained that's just how you are with most people." He couldn't deny the description. However, he hated that Annette had thought he would do the same to her. "But if you've been listening to him, then no wonder that's the case."

"All I did," Sylvain piped up, climbing back onto the rock and brushing himself off, "was offer some advice. You have to admit, he came on pretty strong."

Ingrid shrugged. "Maybe she likes that. She went to find him today after all." She turned to Felix. "Didn't she?"

He nodded and with a heavy sigh, relayed to them everything that had happened once they returned from Enbarr, including the kiss. When he finished, Sylvain gave him a thumbs up. "Look at you, you sly devil. Drawing them in with that cold-hearted charm of yours."

"So you were really looking for her, not Mercedes, before we left," Ingrid slowly deduced.

"Yes. We didn't have time though, so I gave Dimitri a message to pass along to her."

"What did you say?" Sylvain asked.

"That I would see her later."

The only response was the crackling of the fire and chirping insects in the trees around them. Both Sylvain and Ingrid stared at him for a long while as if he sprouted an extra head.

"Aaaaand?" Sylvain prompted.

"Nothing. That's it," he said. "I'll write to her once I get home."

Ingrid listlessly tossed her stick in the fire and Sylvain slapped his hands over his face, groaning loud enough to earn some looks from the soldiers at the other campfire. "Oh, tell me it isn't so. Tell me you aren't that dumb."

"What? What's wrong with that?" He looked between them and replayed what he just said in his mind, but he honestly couldn't find any fault with it. "I can write her a letter once I get home."

"And did you relay that part too?"

"No, I didn't want Dimitri to get involved. Just like I didn't want either of you involved." The last thing he needed was the boar throwing in his advice as well. Just because he was head-over-heels for the professor didn't make him any kind of expert.

"I take it back," Ingrid said, picking up another pointed stick and poking him with it. "You're an idiot."

He growled and slapped the stick away. "Then tell me. What did I do wrong?"

She sighed and looked to Sylvain, as though deciding who should take it. He held up his hands, washing them of the situation, and she turned back to Felix. "Annette's worried that you're keeping her at a distance. So you go into the woods with her, kiss her, and then leave with barely a good-bye through someone else. She has no idea if you'll write her or when she'll see you again. And you don't," she whacked his foot with the stick, "see a problem," a second whack, "with that?"

He swallowed, his mouth incredibly dry. "Well, she- that is, I," and he trailed off, no excuse available to him. What had he done? What had he done? If Annette thought he had pushed her away before, then now-

He stood up, looking around. He had to leave. He had to explain everything to her. Then he remembered where he was and what he was doing. His damnable house. He couldn't leave his brother to fend off the nobles on his own.

"Easy now," Sylvain said. "Why not just write her a letter now and we can send a messenger in the morning?"

That actually wasn't a bad idea. He could explain everything to Annette in the letter. But when he glanced at the small collection of soldiers nearby, he realized that wouldn't work. "No," he said slowly, and sat back down. "If there are any problems in Fraldarius, we'll need every sword we have. We can't spare anyone."

"Then write the letter out now," Ingrid said. "Keep it on hand until we can send a messenger. It might calm your nerves too."

He followed her eyes to his tapping foot and jittery hands. Digging his elbow in his thigh and lacing his hands together, he nodded. "Yeah, I'll do that. What do I say though?"

"Be honest with her. Tell her how you feel."

"Just don't lay it on too thick," Sylvain added.

"You know, you keep saying that, but I've heard some ridiculous things come out of your mouth too," Ingrid said to him. "What about that one villager a while back? You said something along the lines of 'I thought the Goddess had taken me to the afterlife, for one so bewitching as you could only be a divine being.'"

"Well, sure," he shrugged, "but I wasn't being serious."

"That's your problem. You're never serious."

"Hey, I've been better lately. You have to admit that."

Felix already saw where the conversation was heading and didn't want to stick around. He heard enough about Sylvain's love life from the man himself and didn't need to hear about it through others. He quietly left for his tent. Might as well be productive. After all, the unease settling in his chest guaranteed him a sleepless night. So he grabbed some parchment, ink, and a quill from the bag in his tent, sat down, and began the long task of drafting the letter.