watchfob

"i'm not blind." he rests a hand on his hip and frowns. "you're fond of sighing, but it’s doubled when you read your mail."

ingrid bites her cheek.

"you write to enbarr, and you receive word back," felix continues. "you fret and wring your hands when you think i’m not looking and send off parcels when no one else is around to see it. so.”

ingrid braces herself. 

“are you a spy?"

she balks.

"a-- a spy? felix, do you seriously believe--"

his lips twitch into something resembling a smirk.

"save your breath. i know you’re not. you’re too dedicated to your virtuous notions of fealty to be."

the flames in her cheeks almost make her wish it were true.

"are you teasing me, felix?"

"something of the sort, perhaps."

ingrid frowns. "you're not very good at it."

"so i'm told."

some of the tension bleeds from her shoulders.

"but that doesn't mean i'm not asking about it seriously."

and it bleeds back in.

"who are you writing?"

ingrid hesitates. she traces the lines of her husband's-- her husband's!-- face, looking for a sign. how he's feeling, how he will feel. how poor of an idea responding will be. but she is honest to a fault and making a fuss will only make it worse, so she swallows her objections and speaks.

"dorothea."

his eyes flash, then dull.

"ah."

ingrid winces.

"that makes sense, i suppose."

"what do you mean?"

"you two seemed... close, back at the academy."

ingrid's heart squeezes.

"after a fashion," she says, "perhaps."

"don't think i don't know how she talked about you. she wasn't exactly subtle about it."

and her pulse quickens.

"dorothea is-- well, you know--"

"did you respond in kind?"

felix levels his gaze at her, and it feels like a challenge. ingrid lifts her chin, straightens her back. they stare at each other, and a moment passes heavy between them.

she says nothing. felix’s eyes drop.

"i see," he says, and somehow it feels worse than having admitted it aloud. "are you sure she's not using you? worming her way into your good graces for some agenda or other?"

"felix." there is a sudden danger to ingrid's voice.

"i ask for practicality's sake." his eyes meet hers again. "she is our enemy--"

"was our enemy."

"--and if you wind up broken-hearted and betrayed by some adrestian songstress looking to further herself in the wake of a failed invasion, it's not going to be on my account."

ingrid stares, again. the familiar traces of irritation are dusted across felix's face, but there's no heat behind his gaze. he seems almost--

"are you concerned for me, felix?"

he scoffs. "is it so hard to believe?"

"it's not that i think you incapable..."

"i'm under no illusions when it comes to our union." he places an emphasis on the word that might sound like derision to any other person. if she's being honest, it sounds like derision to her, too. "i'm not... angry, if that's what you were expecting."

ingrid doesn't quite know what to do with her hands. she swallows thickly. "and... what if word got out, then?"

felix looks almost bored.

"the affairs of my house are my business. not anyone else's."

heat builds in the back of her sinuses.

"what if people think you weak?"

felix's eyes darken. "if anyone thinks me weak, they can take it up with my blade."

ingrid pitches forward, crossing the distance between them with unexpected speed, and hugs him with force enough to make him grunt. "thank you, felix."

he brings a hesitant hand up to pat her back. she draws back and looks at him, face grave.

"you know, if you were ever so inclined--"

his face collapses into a grimace. 

"please. spare me."