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There was a knock on the door; it would’ve woken Byleth, surely, if she hadn’t already been awake.
Maybe the distraction was a good thing. The writing in front of her had begun to blur anyways. Byleth paused, contemplating; but the black scrawl wasn’t getting any clearer. She set down her quill back into the inkpot and allowed herself a leisurely stretch before finally reaching for the door.
The deep mahogany swung open to reveal Felix Hugo Fraldarius, raven hair held messily in a bun, a tray with a teapot and cups balanced in his hands. Byleth couldn’t help but to raise an eyebrow.
The swordsman caught her expression, smirk included. He coughed. “I figured it’s time for a break from training, and I was wondering if you wanted one too.” His eyes darted to the side, where the remnants of her letters remained askew across the surface of her desk. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
Surprise shot at the base of her spine, but Byleth swallowed the emotion down. “Not at all,” she responded. “Anything is better than the diplomacy after a skirmish.”
At this point, she had suspected Felix had grown accustomed to her occasional sarcasm. There was something wistful in her reminiscing the first time his expression slid to mild shock, when she had initially allowed her less professional thoughts to be voiced. If anything, five years later, the ‘always-ready-to-fight-and-nothing-else’ Felix smirked as he set down the tray. No sweets in sight, of course, but that was to be expected. A brief moment of surprisingly comfortable silence stretched between them. “It’s probably not as delicious as you would make it,” he suddenly insisted as Byleth reached for a chair, and then for the teapot. “I tried, but this will have to do.”
Byleth only hummed thoughtfully as she poured out the fragrant tea, only just able to catch the faint notes of a blush colouring his cheeks. She handed him the cup, a gesture that, by now, she’d grown used to. To her, nothing had really changed – aside from, of course, the one who was doing the inviting. But to him, she supposed, it’s been five years; though they’ve been reunited for the last few months. Five years – a moment to her, a lifetime to him.
She hadn’t noticed he had asked her a question. She took a swig of the tea, spicy notes dancing along the edges of her tongue. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”
Once, five years ago, Felix may have been annoyed at her lack of attention. But now, things were different; though the lines in his face had set deep, the roughness around his edges seemed to have worn away with time. A ghost of a smile seemed to live on the corner of his upper lip as he repeated his question, “Who are you writing to?”
Byleth paused; when it came to the war connections, some of it had been designated as confidential. It wasn’t as if Dimitri was going to share, well, anything, anytime soon. Byleth was careful to not let her exhale err too severely to a sigh. “A request to—“ She paused, when the realization of whom exactly she was writing to hit her. “Rodrigue, actually.”
Felix’s surprise was barely visible to her – admittedly, she was surprised in her own right at how easily she picked up his discomfort. His pinky stiffened and the lines intensified ever-so-slightly across his forehead; otherwise, he placed the cup to his lips, and his sip took merely milliseconds longer than usual, in a way that seemed to stretch many heartbeats.
“My father,” he said into the porcelain.
“Your father, yes,” Byleth said pleasantly. She allowed another mouthful of tea fill the temporary void. “To see if he’ll join our side in overthrowing the Imperial clutches into Faerghus.”
“Is that how you phrased it?” Felix said, and Byleth was slightly surprised to detect hints of teasing in his tone. He seemed to notice her reaction, too, as he lowered his cup, smirk no longer a mere idea but fully realized across his mouth. “What?”
Byleth paused, trying to find the words to describe the sudden flutters in the base of her stomach. “You joking is still something I’m still adjusting to,” she finally managed. His smile turned wry, but everything else in his body language invited her to elaborate on her initial explanation. “It’s nothing fancy, really; I’ve written to the other houses, but quite honestly, I don’t think I can really read words right now.”
Felix seemed deep in thought. “Ah. Then I’m glad I can provide distraction.”
Byleth hmmed into her cup. When she got the chance, she stole a glance at the man. His visage was nothing new, if anything still a bit jarring considering when she’d seen him last. His jaw was angular, clavicle more pronounced now. Beyond those, though, she noticed smaller details: eyebags, nowhere near the depths of Dimitri’s, but new – at least to her. His skin had lost its shine, in those reddish auburn eyes a hazy depth that she didn’t quite understand. “How are you holding up?” she asked, not really knowing where the words came from.
Something like a fond smile spread across his lips, and the fog in his eyes lifted slightly, but it wasn’t completely gone. “I’m…. okay,” he said after a brief pause. “Better now. Before coming back, things were tough.”
He sighed. “Things were much simpler back then.”
“They were,” Byleth recounted, a smile spreading across her lips too. How predictable he once was; when he’d come bounding to her after lecture demanding a sparring session, how she’d make her rounds with tea, only for him to share the dark feelings of resentment and loss. Back then, she’d counseled him like she would any student. Now, while the counseling was still a regular thing, she couldn’t help but to feel as if their relationship had shifted, even if just a little.
But it wasn’t in due to this newfound awkwardness that sometimes edged along the tips of every interaction he had with him. He’d grown in the five years – as one did, especially during war – but the anger he’d once held for Dimitri had transformed into something like protectiveness; the grief he held in his heart seemingly accepted and now simply a part of him. If anything, he reminded Byleth of her – an old soul, now, just trying to keep everyone together.
Maybe that’s why he’d brought her tea.
(It had nothing to do with said newfound awkwardness that she suspected he’d felt sometimes too, when his cheeks dusted red.)
“And how are you doing?” His voice, suddenly low, snapped her back to the present. His eyes were warm; molten copper in a backdrop of porcelain and the night sky, not unlike the outdoors that were filled with stars, despite the ongoing war. Comforting, Byleth thought, and she couldn’t help but acknowledge the urge and the part of her that wanted nothing more than to touch him.
“I’ve been better,” Byleth said instead, honest, trying to not let the way his face twisted into concern do feathery things to her heart. “I’ll honestly be much more comfortable when I’m done writing these letters and am back on the battlefield.”
Though the concern doesn’t quite filter out of his gaze, Felix grinned. “That I understand. If it weren’t so late already, I’d suggest we spar instead.”
Byleth couldn’t help but return the smile. “Guess you just have to come earlier next time.”
“Noted,” he said, almost huskily, and before Byleth registered it, he’d already drained his cup. Byleth mirrored his actions, though a small part of her wanted to stretch it out for longer – to enjoy the company of this Felix a little while longer, before the thoughts of finishing the letters threatened to overwrite the quiet pleasantries of his company.
Felix seemed to sense her thoughts, as when she replaced her now-empty teacup on the saucer, he cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to intrude on your duties, but as your friend, perhaps its best to leave these letters until the morning.”
The suggestion was so very tempting, even moreso in his honeyed tones, but Byleth sighed and stretched out an arm across the small table in her room, resting her cheek on her bicep. “Tempting, but I’m afraid our messenger would have to be sent today for Rodrigue to receive it in time.”
“Even at this hour?” Was his voice from somewhere above her.
“Even so.”
“I can stay with you,” he offered. Byleth glanced up through the green tresses of her hair, and managed to catch a faint glimpse of red dusting across his cheeks before it was gone.
“Even more tempting. But I’m afraid you’d be – ah- more of a distraction.”
For a second, confusion spreads across the swordsman’s face, but if he was thinking of voicing his thoughts (she was momentarily certain of it), he avoided it instead. “Well, I suppose I can’t hog all of your time.”
Byleth truly caught his eye then, and could only offer a sheepish grin as he gathered the saucers and cups back on his tray. “Next time, then.”
“Next time,” Byleth repeated, and she hoped that he could hear the weight she gave those two words. When Felix turned around, there was something charming about the messy updo that was his hair; she couldn’t help but to picture him throwing it up in a hurry, trying to get the tea together despite his outwardly calm demeanour. She walked him to the door, pausing as he stepped over the threshold. “Felix?” she said softly, and the blue haired noble paused.
“Don’t overwork yourself,” she said, before adding, “and it’s my turn next.”
“Of course, I can’t go disappointing my old man.” Felix said, that slight hint of teasing still foreign to her ears. “And Byleth,” his voice suddenly darker, more serious; he turned around and she couldn’t help but to feel speechless at his auburn gaze. “I look forward to it. “