#there's like one lighting values practice with sylvain and felix in there

[mixed-up-metaphors]

doodles from the last two months or so that i will not be explaining

[onyxedskies]

Happy birthday Dimitri!

All was quiet in the Fhirdiad palace, the festivities to celebrate the kings twenty-fifth birthday having ended hours before. Now, only the people Dimitri trusted and held closest to his heart remained in his palace, all crowded around a fire place to fight against the chill of Fhirdiad towards the end of the Ethereal Moon. 

Dimitri sat beside Byleth, an arm wrapped around his beloveds shoulder as his closest friends - the Blue Lions of 1180 - got settled. Many of them held packages to give to their king, despite his best efforts at telling them not to get anything. 

Seemingly sensing the fact that he had noticed the presents and seemed light-heartedly exasperated, Byleth laughed a bit. “Did you really expect them to listen?” she quietly asked the blonde as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Not really, no. But a man can hope,” he murmured in response, earning another soft chuckle from the woman beside him. 

“Aww, Dimitri, you don’t mean that,” Annette said from her spot beside Felix, humor dancing in her eyes along with the light from the fire. “You always cherish the things we get us.”

“Ah, you caught me,” he said, an earnest smile making its way onto his face as his friends began to laugh. 

Despite the Blue Lions closeness, they weren’t able to all gather together like this very often. Ashe and Ingrid, being the captains of the Faerghus Knights, were often out on missions around the continent as well as occassionally off of it, having meetings in Almyra and Brigid twice a year. Dimitri would be lying if he said that he didn’t miss the nights the eight students and their professor would spend in the Blue Lions classroom by the fire, sharing stories and growing closer both before adn during the war. Now, he wouldn’t be surprised if they could pass as family.

Dimitri was pulled from his thoughts as he heard the door open, smiling and chuckling slightly as he saw Mercedes carrying a cake in as she walked in. “Sorry I’m late; the orphans at the church wanted to help make the cake, so the kitchen had been a mess. I helped clean up before coming here.”

“No need to apologize, Mercedes,” Dimitri said. “Make sure to tell the orphans that I thank them.”

“I will, don’t worry,” Mercedes replied, a happy twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure they’ll be delighted.”

“Now that Mercie’s here, we can get started!” Annette said with a bright grin, earning laughter from the group.

“I suppose we can give our present first,” Ingrid said, glancing at Sylvain for the package. “We weren’t entirely sure what to get you, but I think this will do.”

Dimitri took the bag from his friend, digging through the paper that was concealing what was inside. He lifted it, and his smile softened as the cloak was revealed. It had the Faerghus emblem on the back, big and large like many of his cloaks had. But in silver thread beneath it, the names of the nine Blue Lions were sewn on, glimmering in the firelight. “It’s wonderful... thank you both,” he said, looking up at the blonde and redhead who were smiling at him.

“We figured you wouldn’t even think of getting something like that but would treasure it if you did get it,” Sylvain explained with a smile. 

“You were right,” Dimitri chuckled. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Ingrid said with a smile.

Byleth took it from his grasp before swinging it around his muscular figure, kissing his cheek as she secured it around his shoulders. 

“It looks great, Your Majesty,” Ashe said, chuckling at the venomless glare Dimitri sent his way.

“You can just call me Dimitri, Ashe,” he said with a chuckle. “The knights aren’t here.”

“I know,” he said, laughing a bit at the eye roll he recieved.

“I’m guessing you two got him at least one present?” Byleth said, raising an eyebrow at Dedue and Ashe. 

“Of course we did,” Dedue said with a smile. He then handed a package to the king, who took it gently.

The gift was a book, a relatively new one based off the cover. He looked at the title, eyes widening slightly. 

“Wingless Hegemon... is this...?” he asked, looking at Ashe. He grinned back at the king.

“The first copy of Bernadetta’s book,” he said with a nod. 

“How did you know I wanted to read it?” he asked the silver-haired knight. Bernadetta had sided with the resistance, betraying Edelgard and working side-by-side with Claude. When he heard that the timid purple-haired girl was releasing a book, he had found himself wanting to hear it. But he hadn’t said anything about it; how had Ashe figured it out?

“I overheard you telling Byleth,” he said with a shrug, recieving muffled laughter from Mercedes and Ingrid and a cackle from Byleth as Dimitri flushed a bit.

“Regardless, thank you,” Dimitri replied, smiling earnestly at the two men. 

“Of course,” Dedue said, nodding with a smile.

Mercedes gave a small smile, though it didn’t hide the motherly mischief that gleamed in her eyes as she came forward and handed Dimitri a package. He opened it, raising an eyebrow as he accepted the gift. He opened it warily, before his eyes softened upon seeing the gift.

It was a dagger, oh-so-similar to the one he had given Edelgard all those years ago. But there were subtle differences; he noticed the letters spelling everyones names from the class of 1180 on the hilt with his and Byleths names embedded on the blade itself. “Mercedes...”

“I’m glad you like it,” she said with a smile. “It was the childrens idea; they had all heard the story of the dagger from Sylvain, and they thought that maybe the dagger would be a reminder of the good times instead of just dwelling on the bad.”

“I love it,” Dimitri said. “Though, you should really give yourself more credit. It’s clear the thought of the names was your doing; I wouldn’t doubt that the dagger would be the childrens idea, though.”

“Saw right through me, huh,” she said, giggling slightly. “All is well.”

“Us next!” Annette said, practically bouncing in her seat. Felix had an affectionate smile on his face as she crossed the room, handing the king a package. It was small, but based on both Felix and Annette’s faces, it almost definitely had sentimental value.

He discovered he was right upon opening the gift, feeling a tear prick at the corner of his eye as he saw the drawing that had been hidden by the wrapping paper. It was small, but he instantly recognized the scene it was depicting. 

It was five children; he recognized it as himself, Felix, Ingrid, Glenn, and Sylvain. It was a scene he hadn’t thought about in a long time, but he immediately remembered it. The five of them had their backs to the artist, all gazing up at the sky. There were stars in the sky, and he remembered Glenn teaching the four younger ones about them.

“Felix... Annette...” he said, looking up at them.

“I had a dream remembering the scene,” he explained. “I know that Glenn’s ghost haunts you; that much was clear back in the war, and I doubt it’s gone away. I figured - hoped - that it would serve as a reminder that his ghost self isn’t him.”

Dimitri felt a tear roll down his face, quickly wiping it away. “Thank you,” he said, looking at the couple as they smiled back at him. “Thank you, all of you.”

The room quickly lapsed into the controlled chaos that everyone knew so well and loved so much. Dimitri missed this; he was glad he could do this with everyone again.

The night continued on, and before long each of them drifted off to sleep surrounded by each other.

They were happy once again.

[plumoh]

[FE3H] a sword length apart

Word count: 3118

Summary: Annette is a swordswoman and Felix is a mage.

Note: AO3 link. This was originally written for Felannie week day 1: role reversal! No specific route.

“Why are you so good at wielding a sword? I’ve never seen you fight with one!”

Felix pushes the bangs out of his eyes and smirks. “What, are you surprised I’m better than you?”

“You’re not better than me, don’t be delusional.”

Annette adjusts her grip on the training sword and lunges at him again. Her frontal attacks are weak but that’s only because she puts all her efforts in follow-up strikes meant to drive her opponent into a corner before landing the final blow. Felix has observed her form long enough to understand her fighting style. It’s not the most common and definitely not the one he was taught, but he recognizes there is value in it.

He hasn’t properly practiced with a sword for years. He retained all the teaching he got and the countless hours of form training, and he’d certainly do well in a duel but not on the battlefield. He hasn’t held a sword with conviction since he’s realized there was no point for him to chase a shadow, then a corpse.

Annette is diligent and enjoys training as much as he enjoys reading and studying, and that look of joy suits her. He blocks and dodges and retaliates, but she’s still faster and more at ease than he is so she swiftly knocks the sword out of his hand and grins.

“I win!”

Felix rolls his eyes and sits right there on the floor, in the middle of the training grounds. Annette is still radiating mirth when she joins him after picking up the discarded sword, placing it and her own in her lap.

“We should keep sparring, it’s fun,” she says.

“There’s no point in me sparring with you. I’m not a swordsman.”

“Maybe not, but I like sparring with you.”

Felix stares at her with unmasked surprise, and the scrutiny of his gaze makes her flush. And he feels himself grow hot.

“I-I mean, training isn’t only about fighting strong opponents? We can have fun sometimes? You know?”

It’s been too long for him to consider the idea of associating sword training and fun—and he’s buried that earnest boy long ago. It’s not serious; he’s not swinging his sword to prove something, or to push the limits of his own body. It’s completely different from what he’s used to, but there is still some cold twist in his stomach preventing him from accepting the offer.

“Sorry, you should ask someone else,” he mumbles. “I’m not that good with a sword anyway.”

Annette looks like she wants to say something else, but Felix gets up, and runs away.

***

The library is his favorite place in the monastery, since there are books and nobody will come to bother him with stupid questions or coerce him into a conversation.

“I never got the hang of magic, to be honest.”

Annette sits just across him, holding a book about chivalry that he remembers not finishing because it pissed him off halfway through it. Clearly she’s not reading it either since she seems more interested in the textbooks he’s poring over.

“My tutors told me I wasn’t focused enough, and that’s probably because I only wanted to practice my swordsmanship.”

She always wears that dumb smile when she speaks about training and swords, and when it happens to other people Felix thinks it’s laughable but Annette looks...endearing. He quickly dismisses the thought.

“Not everyone is cut out for some things,” he replies evenly.

“You’re right, and that’s why I gave up magic to only train with my sword!”

Felix sighs and leans back into his chair.

“Why are you bringing this up? If you haven’t noticed, I’m busy.”

Annette at least has the decency to look sheepish.

“Sorry, I saw you in the library and wanted to say hi,” she laughs awkwardly. His heart is racing. “And I, uh...wanted to apologize for the other day.”

Now it’s his turn to be awkward. “Why would you apologize?”

Annette plays with a lock of her hair, and doesn’t meet his eyes. “I shouldn’t have been so insistent, you clearly didn’t want to spar with me. I’m sorry.”

He stays silent. He has been rude too by leaving and ending the conversation so abruptly, and his throat itches with an apology of his own.

“It’s alright,” he says instead. “It’s not a big deal. I...maybe another time. One day.”

Felix pushes down the uncomfortable feeling speaking these words brings him. He’s not a child anymore, and he shouldn’t let emotions dictate what to do—how to live and to get by.

But Annette shakes her head, and smiles.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to force you to do something you dislike.” She pauses, and frowns. “Well, I’d ask you to forget you heard me singing, but you’re evil.”

This is an easy conversation he can slip into.

“You’re right, it’s too good to forget,” he snickers, and Annette puffs out her cheeks.

***

She’s never reckless in battle, but she does get too intense, sometimes, and makes mistakes that leave her skin all bruised and cut up. She doesn’t learn her lesson even though people tell her she should cover her left side better or to step back when the cavalry arrives too strongly, but she’s too stubborn. Felix guesses he relates to her desire to prove herself.

“You know, when I said I was going to learn faith, that wasn’t for you to come to me as a regular patient for practice,” he grouses.

“But Mercie is going to chide me again if she sees all these new cuts,” Annette whines, like that’s the main issue here.

Felix deeply sighs but never stops his Heal spell, grumbling some more about her fighting style that will attract more incidents in the near future. Lecturing her about prudence and knowing when to stop would be hypocritical of him, since his friends still come to drag him out of the library late at night. Annette spends time in the training grounds destroying dummies and nobody has managed to convince her that endless training will be more harmful than beneficial to her. Not that Felix listens to gossip and his classmates’ babbling, but he just happens to agree to what he hears.

“Besides, it was only a skirmish, so I don’t want to bother her. She’s already doing so much for our class! And I know you need to practice, anyway.”

Annette grins at him, unabashed though there is shyness dancing in her eyes, and Felix covers the sound of his heartbeat with a snort. Casting white magic demands more control and accuracy than black magic, which from the get-go is a struggle for him as he’s always preferred blasting entire zones with a powerful spell rather than focusing on a single target. But he’s trying, even if he’s complaining all the way, but he accepts the Professor’s praise at his progress nonetheless.

“It sounds like you’re making a sacrifice,” he says lightly.

“Mh, it’s just that I know you’ll take care of the injuries.”

Felix’s eyebrows furrow and he lifts his gaze, but has to look away just as soon when his ears start burning with the same red spreading over Annette’s cheeks.

This is ridiculous.

“You’re ridiculous,” he coughs.

“Maybe. You’re ridiculous!”

“Why am I the ridiculous one? That doesn’t make sense!”

Felix furiously avoids Annette’s eyes and puts all his efforts into his healing, even if the cuts are only thin scars now and will disappear in a few days. Annette stays silent after trying to sputter a sentence he didn’t catch any of its word, and they remain that away until Annette leaves the infirmary when a much too amused Sylvain pokes his head inside.

***

For a long time, Felix has been banned from the front line due to his utility as a long-range spellcaster and his tendency to destroy more land and soldiers than he was initially told. Over the five years they’ve fought their side of the war, he’s tried to control his accuracy to get stronger but also faster, and maybe his training paid off or Byleth simply needed more people at the front. Since he’s always been readily available and very vocal about wanting to fight alongside his allies, and not behind them, nobody was really surprised to see him wandering among a battalion of infantry soldiers while they march towards the Empire.

Annette shoots him a curious look, but he can definitely see the worry etched on her face.

“If you say anything I’m going to leave all the healing to Mercedes,” he warns.

She doesn’t look intimidated by his glare but she purses her lips, her hand fiddling with the pommel of her sword. She’s dressed like a proper swordmaster, with light armor over her padded cream-colored tunic while her left leg is uncovered as her boots don’t even reach below the knee. Felix has always thought it was a stupid outfit designed for practicality when it was only a recipe for disaster. His thick robes and simple armor cover and protect him better than what she wears. He still averts his gaze from her when embarrassment prickles his neck.

“I...be careful, okay?” Annette says in a low voice. “I’ll stick by your side, but...”

“I don’t need protecting, Annette. Don’t patronize me.”

The bitter words rush out of his mouth before he can think them over, and he’s only left with mild guilt when Annette doesn’t say anything else. Whatever—he’s perfectly able to decimate the enemy and still look after the injured. His grip tightens around the Caduceus staff Byleth has entrusted to him for this battle, and waits. From the corner of the eye he sees Annette stepping closer to him, but he pretends not to notice.

As soon as the fliers sent out as scouts come back, they get the order to charge. Some people around Felix let out a battle cry while others whisper prayers for their victory, but Felix stays silent, and follows the battalion. There are pegasus riders and cavalrymen charging at them but they make quick work of them. Even though he asked to be on the front line he knows he can’t cast whatever he wants in such close range of his allies, so he steps back, still surrounded by the other soldiers, and conjures up thunder striking down one, two, then three and four soldiers. The air is crackling and makes the screams even more morbid, while his allies rush past him without hesitation and finish the job. He looks ahead and advances, never faltering in front of the blood and the violence he’s grown up with, and calmly prepares another spell.

Felix isn’t one to be praised for his observation skills, but his instincts kick in and his senses sharpen when he’s on the battlefield. He watches the movement of his enemies to halt their advance with a well-aimed and well-timed spell and dodges every thrust of lance targeting him. Ingrid once told him his concentration in battle is terrifying, like his eyes thirst for a good fight and relish in the demise of his enemies. She’s not wrong; he has never felt more alive than when he’s hearing the noises of weapons clashing and seeing the blood pooling under his feet, while his hands call forth unbridled power. It’s war—it’s something he’s been raised for.

Annette materializes next to him and slashes down an assassin sneaking up on him. She dances on her feet and waves her blade like it weighs nothing, her blows always striking true and not letting any chance of survival to her opponent. She parries the onslaught of hits from another swordsman and Felix seizes the opportunity to fire a spell at him. Unable to dodge both the spell and the sword, their enemy is quickly taken care of when Annette runs her blade through his chest. He falls down hard on the ground, and in that few seconds break between felling two soldiers, Annette whirls around and looks sternly at him.

“Don’t get distracted!” she admonishes.

“I’m not getting distracted,” Felix retorts viciously. “I saw them coming.”

“Well, next time see them faster! Stay close to me.”

Felix is not going to follow Annette around in this battlefield—but if he doesn’t then she’s the one who will stick around him, so he begrudgingly lets her do whatever she wants. With the staff in hand he manages to push his spells farther than he usually does and in a much wider circle, while Annette is content to simply kill every soldier charging at them. He can’t say that his attention isn’t divided; he perfectly knows that not focusing on a single point can mean his end but fighting alongside Annette naturally forces him to make sure she isn’t throwing herself head first into danger. She’s a skilled warrior and light on her feet, but past experiences leave him with a nagging suspicion he will have to watch over her, too.

Annette makes sure that she stays close to him, but not too close; moving around and slashing her opponents don’t give her much of a choice, and Felix wouldn’t have recommended her to get into his personal space when he’s summoning his enemies’ worst nightmares. They work surprisingly well despite their infrequent partnership and their different fighting styles. None of them steps on the other’s foot and causes an incident, and despite Felix’s preference for long-range spells, from time to time he will zap anyone trying to get close to him into the void. Annette looks extremely pleased by this teamwork, so he can’t repress a small smile of his own.

The enemy troops are already retreating, as they were outnumbered and they probably shouldn’t have run into them in the first place. Smoke is rising from the ground where fire and thunder have scorched it, and blood has painted their clothes and their faces like a possessive mark of their passage. Sighs of relief echo amid the silence that falls upon the after-battle.

Felix looks critically at Annette, searching for an injury. She is dusting off her tunic and doesn’t notice his gaze, so he slowly approaches and claps her on the shoulder where his fingers start glowing. She startles and tries to turn around but Felix keeps her rooted on the spot.

“Don’t move, I’m trying to heal you,” he snaps.

“Felix, you could have waited until we regrouped with everyone!” she huffs, but stays still.

The gash on her shoulder isn’t wide or particularly life-threatening, but Felix doesn’t want her to keep bleeding all the way to the meeting point. That would kind of defeat the point of him being here on the front lines.

“You didn’t unnecessarily put yourself in danger today,” he remarks, and he’s glad he can’t properly see her face.

“Well, I...I had to protect you, too. It doesn’t matter that you think otherwise.”

It’s useless to argue with her because she will win. He doesn’t need protection, and especially not from her, who is just as vulnerable to sneak attacks and arrows. He can’t deflect the blows as quickly as she can, but he is alert enough not to let them happen in the first place. His grip on her shoulder relaxes, and she immediately turns around to lock her eyes with his. He resists the urge to look away—she’s shorter than him but her whole body language screams confidence and she’s always managed to make herself bigger than she is.

“I don’t want you to get injured,” she states firmly. “So please let me stay by your side when we fight like we did today.”

He exhales slowly. “Annette, I told you I’m fine—”

“I know you can take care of yourself! But I just...I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

There is no way for him to convince her otherwise. His fingers are still tingling with the sensation of the spells he relentlessly cast, and now that they’re all safe, that Annette isn’t bleeding anymore, he feels all the adrenaline leaves his body in one second. And Annette is the one to cast her gaze downward.

“I don’t want you to push yourself to—to prove you can fight or something, I know that using magic is hard and can easily exhaust people, so if I’m not here to help you when you’re already tired after both killing our enemies and healing our allies—”

Felix grabs her arm and she instinctively lifts her head; for a split second he takes in all the worry her eyes are shining with.

“I get it. Stop it,” he grunts. “Don’t be reckless, that’s all I’m asking.”

Annette is still staring at him, but slowly her lips tug upwards and she nods frantically.

“And I still don’t need you for protection,” he adds hastily before she can get any more ideas. “I’m the one who should keep an eye out for you.”

“Well, let’s say it’s mutual protection then!” Annette chuckles.

He’s fine with it. Felix snorts and tugs her along with him to regroup, and he knows she sees the slight smile on his face because she keeps laughing and looking at him as they cross the entire battlefield.

***

Felix thinks Annette didn’t expect him to ever step into the training grounds ever again, which is why she points at the lance, then at him, and again at the lance.

“You want to spar with me?” she asks, confused.

“Yes,” Felix grits out. “I figured I should polish my skills on horseback. With a weapon.”

“...And you chose a lance?”

She remembers their conversations from five years ago. She knows he refuses to wield a sword but has never asked why, and even now her gaze is full of curiosity. Felix chooses to ignore it altogether—he’s not ready to have this talk yet.

“We have a better reach with a lance.” He shrugs. “Sylvain and Ingrid showed me the basics, but training with them is annoying.”

(And a long time ago, the prince of their kingdom guided him through the moves of a lance before Felix decided that a sword was way cooler.)

Annette nods like it makes perfect sense, though her smile is a little too pleased.

“Right. Your magic is impressive, but I understand why you would want to use a weapon too.”

She gets into a defensive stance, and grins.

“Do your best, Felix! Don’t think I’ll go easy on you because you’re a mage.”

He lets himself get carried away by her enthusiasm, and prepares his attack.

“I wasn’t expecting any less.”

Perhaps she was right all along; sparring can be fun.