Felix feels like he's watching himself in slow motion, spiralling with no way to reach out and stop.

It's almost funny, really. A part of him hoped he was dead - if not for anybody else's sake, then for the beast himself. He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve a decade worth of his humanity being stripped away, piece by bloody piece. It would've been better for everyone if he was dead.

But then, as always, there had been a part of him wishing on every star and broken wishbone and clock when it struck the hour. Wishing that the boy he had once known had somehow survived underneath the beastly exterior, making it through to the other side unharmed. It was a childish notion, but he had held on to that final shred even through the five years of war.

He's simultaneously on the edge just before the fall, and already falling, ground rushing up to meet him.

There's no time to brace for impact. There never has been. Not for Duscur, not for the rebellion. Not for Remire or the war or the coup or now, standing beneath the dawn as everyone celebrates the boars' survival.

It's sickening. It's bittersweet. It's everything and nothing all at once, weights tied to his ankles and dragging him down, lungs empty of air as water rushes in over his head.

Something lightly touches his back and Felix startles, head whipping around to stare at Mercedes, her expression something that would be mistaken for pity if it were anybody else. Instead, Felix only sees care and concern, her pale eyes soft in understanding.

"Try to breathe in time with me," she whispers, and it sounds like she's repeating it, fingertips lightly pressing in between his shoulder blades. Their interaction goes unnoticed by the other Blue Lions as they discuss the war, filling each other in on their knowledge.

Felix gives a stiff nod, and Mercedes shifts to rest a slender hand on his upper arm. "Breath in when I go up, and out when I go down," she instructs, moving slowly.

He does as he is told, trying to ignore the uncontrollable shaking in his hands.

"How about we go to the Academy," Mercedes suggests to the group after a minute or two, breaking their conversation. As they all turn to face her, she smoothly steps in front of Felix, shielding him from their curious looks. He catches Ingrid and Sylvain exchanging worried looks and ducks his head, watching the hand on his sword shake and rattle the blade within its sheath. "I can fix us up with something warm to eat, and we can all get some rest."
As he suppresses the shaking in his hands, it simply moves down his body, into his legs.

"That sounds amazing," Ashe's entire body seems to relax, shoulders sagging in a true show of his exhaustion.

"I could sleep for a week!" Annette announces, and the others voice their agreement, moving to collect weapons and bags and various other supplies that they left strewn about when they joined in the fighting.

Aelyth stares unblinking at the mound of fur, waiting for him to move before they do. He eventually does, stalking off with a tight grip on his lance.

Satisfied, Aelyth turns to Mercedes and Felix, head tilted in a silent question. "We'll be right there," Mercedes assures them, and they nod, bringing up the rear as the group begins the trek up the final peak, to the main structure of Garreg Mach.

Mercedes looks back to Felix, once they are the only two that remain. His legs are still shaking, and as much as he tries to prevent it, he pitches forward when he can't support his own weight trying to take a step. She catches him neatly, lowering them both to sit on the ground.

"You look exhausted," Mercedes says gently, and Felix can only just give a single nod, words dying in his throat as his lungs struggle to take in enough air to push them out. "You don't have to say anything just yet," she smiles, care in her voice as she pulls a waterskin from her hip, uncorking the lid and holding it out to him, "focus on regaining your strength enough to get to the Monastery."

Felix accepts the waterskin gingerly, taking a few sips.

"Thanks," he eventually gets out, and she nods.
"Oh, it's quite alright, Felix," her expression is warm, "it really is good to see you again, after this long."

He nods absently, gaze drifting from Mercedes' face to the waterskin, tracing the embossed pattern in the leather with his fingertips, grounding himself as best he can.

Mercedes hums a little, "were you injured at all during the battle?" she asks, and Felix knows it's not what she actually wants to know, but still a genuine question on her half.

"N-no, I'm fine."

"That's good," Mercedes' voice is steeped in relief, "seeing how much everyone has changed must have been quite the shock."

He presses his fingers a little harder into the leather, dully realising the pattern takes the form of a sprig of lavender. "Yeah."

It's little more than a whisper, forced out around the tightening in his throat. His hands start shaking again, and Mercedes reaches out to rest hers on top of his own to steady them.
"I'm sorry," the way she says it is so simple, so sincere.

"For what?" Felix asks in return, tearing his eyes off their joined hands to look back at her face. Mercedes only smiles gently, the expression not quite reaching her eyes enough to push away the sorrow.

Felix pulls his hands out from under hers to take another sip of water, and she draws back again, folding her hands in her lap and staring down at them.

"How's your breathing been these days?" Mercedes asks after a minute or so sitting in silence, looking up again.

Felix shrugs. "Had an attack on the way to Garreg Mach."

He doesn't mention the shortness of breath that he's had since seeing him again.

"Really?" she frowns in concern, "what caused it? The cold air? The atmospheric change from the mountain?"

"Physical exertion," Felix grimaces as he says it, but knows she won't follow up on what he means.

"How often does that happen these days?"

"Attacks are few and far between. I don't struggle in battle, if that's what you're asking," Felix shrugs again, "thank you for the herbs, by the way."

"Oh, you received them?" Mercedes perks up at the mention, "that's wonderful!"

Despite the war, Mercedes had continued a one-sided correspondence with Felix, sending tea leaves and herbs whenever she could to help with his lungs, and firm instructions on how often he should be making use of them.

"Sorry I could never respond," he says, idly wondering if Mercedes had been sending letters to the other Lions as well. "There was never enough time amidst all the fighting."

"I'm just glad to hear you received them alright. Annie says there were gaps where my letters didn't always get through."

"I wouldn't know if I was missing any," Felix more often than not would return home to find a letter or two from her that had arrived while he was on the front, always written in her perfect looping script. "I always had plenty of your tea to last, though."

"That's good to know. I brought some with me here," Mercedes nods towards her bag, "I was hoping everyone else would remember our promise to return, so I packed things everyone would need, just in case."

Trust Mercedes to be thinking of everyone's needs, even in the middle of a war.

"Any new aggravations?" she asks, and Felix pauses with the waterskin halfway to his lips, forcing away fur and armour and an eyepatch from his mind.

Yes.

"No."

Mercedes watches him for a moment, before sighing and getting to her feet. "We should catch up with the others," she says, before a mischievous light catches in her eye, "how do you feel about magic?"

Felix blanches, "absolutely not."

She pouts a little, though the light is still visible in her expression. "Oh, alright, we'll take the long way there."

She extends a hand to him, and Felix takes it, allowing Mercedes to help him to his feet.

They walk at a leisurely pace, Mercedes speaking of Fhirdhiad in war-time, allowing Felix the chance to not say anything. He's grateful for it, even if it means he has more time to stew in his thoughts.

Seeing him again was too much. Not enough.

It's a few seconds before he realises Mercedes is looking at him expectantly.

"Can you repeat that?"

"I asked when you cut your hair," she reaches up to tuck a lock of her own hair behind her ear, and Felix can hear the lie in her voice.

"Just over a year ago," he replies, deciding to avoid whatever topic Mercedes has chosen to drop. He doesn't want to talk about this one either, but chances are it's the lesser of two evils. "I only just started tying it up again."

She gives him a little pondering look. "Wouldn't it have been more practical to keep it long, then?"

"It would have been, yes," he agrees.

Mercedes doesn't seem satisfied with his non-answer.

"It was an impulse decision." Felix self consciously reaches up, pushing his fringe from his eyes. "I had a bad day, and a letter opener."

'A bad day' was an understatement. The anniversary always hit hard, but it was the first one he'd been truly alone for. He refuses to look and see what expression Mercedes has at his words. "So what about you?" he asks, to prevent her prying any further.

"I just felt like a change," she says, "it might seem a little silly, but I don't need a reason, right?"

"... yeah."

They don't speak again until they arrive at the Monastery.

_____

It's late noon the next day when more people arrive, the Blue Lions sitting together at the table nursing cracked and chipped cups, mismatched to the pot of tea sitting in the centre as they carry light conversation.

Aelyth looks up from their spot at the table, immediately pushing their chair back and standing, causing Felix to turn in his own seat to see what it is out of curiosity.

"Oh, professor!" Flayn cries out, hurrying over and grasping their hands in her own, almost bouncing in her excitement. "You're alive! My brother and I were so worried!"

Aelyth's expression lightens. "I'm glad you're safe as well."

Flayn beams, before looking at the Lions. "It is wonderful to see you all again," she says, and Felix nods absently.

Outside of the ribbons tied into her braids - one pink, one white - Flayn looks as if she hasn't aged a day. Standing next to Aelyth, it's almost as if it could still be five years prior, before the war.

The shadow in the corner that Felix is trying his best to ignore says otherwise.

"Oh, is there a spare cup, perchance?" Flayn asks, clapping her hands together eagerly, "it smells wonderful, and I have missed your tea so much."

"Of course. Seteth?"

"That would be nice, thank you," Seteth speaks up from just behind where his sister stands in Felix's peripherals, and he jumps, elbow smacking into his cup and spilling tea everywhere. Sylvain laughs at the mess, and has to try not to be too relieved at the normalcy the incident brings. Instead, he glares at the spill, as if that would somehow clean it up.

Aelyth's hand darts over his shoulder to right the teacup, causing Sylvain to laugh harder.

"You really haven't changed," he says, delighted, as Aelyth pours Felix another cup.

They don't bat an eye, moving to top up Sylvain's, still over Felix's shoulder. He leans out of the way, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the face as Aelyth reaches for the mismatched cups sitting in the middle of the table to fill for Seteth and Flayn. Felix thinks he hears Annette snort into her own teacup, but when he looks over, her face is perfectly neutral.

"Can I get a refill too, professor?" she says innocently, and Aelyth obliges, leaning further over still, Felix ending up pressed against Ashe's shoulder.

"They do this on purpose," he mutters, and Ashe only hums in response.

A booming voice carries down the dining hall, announcing Alois' presence, and the bright chatter of reunion starts up again.

After Alois, it's Manuela and Hanneman, then Shamir and Cyril, and then Catherine, Thunderbrand strapped to her hip as always.
It's loud, everyone's words blending together as they celebrate their survival and catch each other up on the past five years.

Felix focuses instead on his teacup, eyes tracing the hairline cracks working their way across it as everyone speaks around him.
Everyone keeps talking about how they all survived after all these years. Everyone keeps celebrating coming out the other side in one piece. They all continue to cheer and embrace and usher in a new age when a war continues to rage outside the Monastery walls.

They didn't all survive. They didn't all come through unharmed. Everyone has new scars and bruises, new terrors waiting for them in sleep.

The beast lurks in Felix's waking hours as well, now.

The beast with one lone eye, watching them from his corner of the dining hall.

"—Lix? Felix!"

"What?" he nearly spills his second cup of tea as he startles, looking up. Annette winces the tiniest amount in sympathy. They're the only two left seated, everyone else standing to speak with the new arrivals.

"Sorry!" she says, "it's just— well, you—" she breaks off with a sigh, leaning her cheek into her hand. "You seem... different."

Felix stares at Annette for a moment, blinking in mild confusion. "There's a war on," he says, "I would be more concerned if I hadn't changed."

Annette groans, squishing her cheek as she leans to the side a little. "That's not what I mean!"

"So what do you mean?" he picks up his teacup, trying to exude his usual prickly aura as he takes a drink, hoping she'll pick up on it and back away, at least for the time being.

But Annette has never been as good at picking up on his cues as Sylvain or Ingrid or Mercedes.

That, or she's been willfully ignoring the signs for years.

"I mean," she starts, and Felix frowns around the brim of his cup, "that you seem... quieter. Less angry."

"Do I?" he says flatly, setting down his cup again, right in the middle of the spill. Annette winces at his tone, sitting bolt upright again.

"Sorry! I— wait, why am I apologising? It's a good thing you're not angry, why would— ah never mind, it's just—" she breaks off again, hand leaving her cheek and dropping to rest on the table. "You seem sad, Felix."

Felix drops his gaze back to his cup.

He can see Annette's worried expression reflected in the spill, and she opens her mouth to speak again.

"Everyone up," Aelyth calls, clapping their hands together to get everyone's attention, "first official war council in ten, everyone needs to be present."

Whatever Annette wanted to say is lost in the clamour as everyone begins to move, collecting their empty teacups and splitting off to complete any tasks before they begin.

"That's the professor we all know and love!" Sylvain cheers, "seriously, did your authoritative tone get stronger while you were gone?"

Felix reaches up to smack Sylvain upside the head, moving towards the door.

He tells himself he doesn't spare a glance to the shadow in the corner; he tells himself there's nothing there.

Nothing but a bad dream and a horrible memory of a beast unleashed seven years ago.

They gather in the Knights' Hall, the Lions standing in a loose arc around the Professor, the Knights of Seiros by Seteth. There are hardly enough chairs to go around, and any that exist are covered in five years of dust.

Gilbert gives a short bow. "Thank you, Seteth," he says, "the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and the Church have had a long history. It is reassuring to have your cooperation."

Felix restrains the urge to roll his eyes at the formalities.

"Surely the Imperials have this place under watch," Catherine says, hand resting on the hilt of her sword, "it's a strategic location."

Felix sends a look to Sylvain, who seemed highly interested in a thread on his shirt, pointedly ignoring him.

"While strategic, the mountains make it inconvenient to transport troops and supplies," Gilbert says, speaking on behalf of the Kingdom. The beast remains silent, a hulking shadow by Aelyth's side.

"It's safe to assume she has Garreg Mach under surveillance, however," Seteth stares around appraisingly, "if we are to make it our base of operations, we will need a more appropriate meeting space. I will open up the Cardinals' Room for future use."

Resting a hand on their chin, Aelyth hums, "It won't be too much of a struggle for us to gain supplies," they say, "there are villages nearby."

"I can write to my father, as well," Sylvain speaks up, "Gautier is pretty far, but he might be able to help us."

"My old man can pitch in too," Felix says, finding his voice. It sounds dry, but he presses on, "and if we have war funds, any small village would be willing to help, provided we lend them aid when the time comes."

Aelyth nods approvingly. "Dimitri?"

The beast lets out a growl, and several of the Lions flinch backwards. "Do as you please."

"Hey," Annette frowns, setting her hands on her hips, "don't act like this doesn't concern you."

"Faerghus is your Kingdom!" Ingrid agrees, and he scoffs in response.

"Yeah, they're right," Sylvain joins in, trademark grin in his voice as he ignores that response, "we've finally reunited after years! We're all in this together."

The Lions start speaking over the top of each other, and Felix can only catch snippets as they speak about cleaning up the Monastery, reminiscing their Academy days. There's a twinge in his chest, and he crosses his arms, hand gripping his sleeve.

"How foolish of you all," the beast sneers, and Felix's hand pulls tighter, "caring for a place going to ruin when there's that woman—"

"I think it's a good idea," Ashe interrupts, and Felix startles, turning to stare at him. "I think it's a good idea," he repeats, lifting his chin, "it would improve morale."

"Patience is key at a time like this," Gilbert agrees, "Your Highness—"

He lets out another wordless growl, and Aelyth takes a step towards him to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"Dimitri—"

"Stay out of this," there's venom in his voice, one that Felix has heard several times, but never directed towards their teacher.

The boar turns on his heel, shoving Aelyth to the side as he leaves. Aelyth gives an unimpressed look to his retreating back, lips pressed a little tighter together than usual.

"Some 'Prince'," Shamir says, and Seteth sends her a disapproving look, longer beard somehow making the expression more stern than it used to be.

"What happened to him?" Felix can hear the ache in his own voice, and the rest of the Lions look to him in varying states of surprise and sympathy. "It's like he's a completely different person."

Felix hadn't felt any vindication when the mask fell away that fateful day in the catacombs. He'd seen the darkness underneath long before anyone else had, but had hoped he was wrong, that it would never surface again.

Aelyth's expression flickers, crease forming in their brow again. "He wasn't always like this."

Nobody responds, the silence stretching out long after everyone leaves.

_____

The cathedral is cold, the gaping hole in the ceiling no longer holding back the harsh winter air. The chill still seeps through, aggravating his lungs, but Felix refuses to leave to fetch a cloak.

Aelyth approaches eventually, presumably after doing their rounds of the rest of the Monastery. He figured it was only a matter of time before they checked in on him.

(Checked in on them.)

"That creature," he cuts to the chase immediately, before they can speak. Folding his arms, Felix leans against the chipped pillar he's been hiding in the shadow of, "do something about it."

Aelyth's eyes narrow the slightest bit as they scrutinise him, before they turn to watch the boar. "I'm... not sure what I can do," they say carefully.

The professor has always had the answers. To hear those words coming from them is like a blow to the chest.

"Don't just give up like that."

Felix's voice is meek when he says it, as much as he hates it.

"I'm not giving up," their eyes seem to glow brighter for a moment, a flash of determination in their tone, "none of us are."

Felix feels as if he gave up a decade ago, when his brother walked out of his life and died serving the Crown, when his best friend lost everyone to the flames and then himself. He wants to tell Aelyth that; wants them to know how hard it is to keep trying.

"I tracked him for five years, you know," is what he says out loud instead, "in that time, he's lost what little humanity he still had."
Their determination flares again. Felix has missed their resolve. "So we help him find it again."

"He's not dead, but he may as well be," he says, watching the mound of fur, watching Dimitri.

"But then again," he speaks up again after a moment, eyes sliding back to Aelyth, "you were too."

He's almost certain he sees a smile pass over their lips.