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Chapter Text

The sky had been dark and crowded with heavy clouds all day. As the first few oversized drops finally escaped from the clouds to splatter against the ground, breaking the pervasive silence, Rhea distantly wondered if the man hunched over on the bench in front of her would take notice of the rain at all. It seemed doubtful. He had fallen heavily onto that seat when she had come to deliver the news, and by now Rhea had lost track of how much time had passed while they had remained there together, him looking not quite at but through his hands with a lost expression on his face, and she standing quietly with the familiar weight of grief pressing down on her. At least the hanging threat of bad weather meant that they were alone in the courtyard of Garreg Mach as the rain picked up in intensity and started to soak them through in earnest.

Rhea almost missed the sound of the man taking a deep breath suddenly, nearly drowned out as it was by the patter of heavy raindrops. “She’s dead,” Jeralt said, the words somewhere between a statement and a question. Rhea knew for a fact that Jeralt’s booming voice could carry across a chaotic battlefield and still be understood clearly, but just now she had to strain to hear his barely-there words. “Just like that, she’s gone. This isn’t right, she was so… We were going to…” He trailed off, clenching and unclenching his hands in silence for a few moments. Then, slowly, he raised his head up to look at her, like a condemned man willing himself to look up at the gallows. “Our… the child… What of the child?”

Rhea felt her throat tightening in guilt. She had had little time to come to her decision, but she knew she could make something truly wonderful still come out of this terrible loss. She just needed to be sure that her plan would work, and while she trusted Jeralt, that meant that this time she needed to take full control. She knew that, but still, seeing that expression on his face, knowing she was about to extinguish that last ember of hope in his eyes… She hated it, even as she accepted it. “I am so, so sorry, Jeralt,” Rhea said gently. Jeralt looked as if his breathing had ceased. “She knew the risks when she asked me to try to save the child instead. She knew that it may very well already be dead, but she made her choice. I swear to you, I did everything I could, but… When your daughter was born, her heart was not beating.”

Archbishop Rhea reminded herself many times over the next few days that she had not lied to her old friend, not truly. It was hollow comfort, she knew, and it did little to abate her guilt as she watched Jeralt during the funeral. When he walked, his limbs seemed to move purely out of habit, and there was a deep, concerning hollowness to his eyes. If she spoke to him, she often found herself needing to repeat herself before he registered her words. She had known him for a very, very long time now, had seen him face the deaths of many friends and all of what little family he had known. She had never seen him face a grief so consuming as he suffered now.

Three days after the funeral, when one of the Knights of Seiros nervously approached her in the audience chamber to inform her that Captain Jeralt had disappeared into the night without a trace, she was not surprised. She had been expecting the news. Had, in fact, been counting on it. Jeralt’s faith had been broken, and she herself had landed the killing blow to it. Undoubtedly, for him the monastery was full of memories that would now be too painful to handle. She thanked the knight for delivering the message and let him know she would be praying to the Goddess on behalf of the Knights for strength and guidance. He bowed deeply and left, returning to the barracks.

When she was certain she was alone, Rhea ascended to the third floor of the monastery and approached the locked door to a room next to her own bedroom. She removed the only key to the door from an inner pocket in her robes and let herself in swiftly, closing and locking the door again behind her. The room was of modest size, having originally been for storage. Now all that remained in it were a few pieces of recently cleaned furniture, including an old but sturdy crib in the center of the room. It was this that Rhea approached slowly, almost reverentially, gazing warmly at the bundle within.

The baby made no noise at all as Rhea lifted her up and cradled her in her arms. In fact, the child had not cried at any point during her birth, or in the following days since. The only signs that the baby was alive were the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and the little movements in her tiny, fragile limbs as shifted into a more comfortable position in Rhea’s embrace. Not even her heart beat, stilled as it was by the overpowering Crest placed within her chest. The child’s serenity was another indicator to Rhea that it had worked this time, that the baby would become so much more than mere human, and that at last the Goddess of this world would grace it again with Her presence. What Rhea had missed so much, so surely would return…

Fighting back tears born of joy and grief and guilt and a thousand other emotions, Rhea pressed her forehead to that of the child’s. “Rest now, dear one,” she murmured, rubbing circles with her thumb into the precious bundle in her arms. “The world is waiting for you to protect and guide it. But rest for now, and I will guide you and protect you until you are ready, and forever after that. I will never leave nor fail you, I swear this. For you are destined for such wonderous things, and I will be ever by your side…”
Rhea was happy to lose track of time as she stood there cradling the child, blissful in the knowledge that she held the secured future of Fódlan within her arms.

Two weeks later, the disturbing news of a missing captain was forgotten as Garreg Mach celebrated the announcement of Archbishop Rhea opening her heart to personally adopt a ward. The story was that a young mother had come to the church seeking sanctuary, but had tragically not survived childbirth, living only long enough to bestow a name unto her child. The baby girl, Byleth, would have been destined to grow up in the world as an orphan with no connections, had it not been for the archbishop’s compassionate intervention. Now it seemed she would have a truly blessed life, taken in by one of the most powerful and beloved figures in all of Fódlan.

Indeed, as the first few years passed, it was undeniable to those that payed attention that the orphaned girl was no mere charity case to the archbishop. She had a bedroom in the third floor of Garreg Mach Monastery, right beside Rhea’s own room. Rhea personally attended her, seeing to it that all of her needs were met, as caring as one might be for their own daughter. It was said that as soon as Byleth’s dark blue hair had grown enough for it, the archbishop herself braided it each morning, winding lovely red and white ribbons through her strands. The girl was dressed in fine clothes, dresses of a rich azure color that matched well with the color and style of many officials in the church. And as she grew older, Archbishop Rhea ensured that the child’s education was not lacking in any regard. All manner of staff at the Garreg Mach Officers Academy were encouraged to tutor the archbishop’s young ward, and most were delighted to take on the role.

And yet, despite the attention and care lavished onto the young girl, it was said that Byleth never smiled, or even showed any sign of emotion whatsoever.

~~~

Alois snapped to attention upon feeling a tug on his line. He could tell the fish wasn’t caught on the hook yet, as the line had yet to go taut. “Not this time!” he shouted, tightening his grip on the pole. “You and your brethren may have eluded me thus far, but you, my slimy friend, will not get away from me!” He yanked upwards with all of his strength, hoping to snag the fish. Instead his hook shot out of the water, completely clean of both bait and fish, and he groaned in exasperation. “Again!? I thought for sure I had that one! What in the world am I doing wrong?”

With a sigh, Alois set the pole and its empty hook beside him and gazed miserably out at the pond. “I just… I wish the captain were still here,” he murmured sullenly. It had been 6 years now since Jeralt had left the monastery without a word, but Alois still often found himself with moments like this, where he felt that absence so acutely. “He’d know what I was doing wrong. And probably have a full bucket of fish himself by now! Ugh… Well, my sitting here being melancholy won’t catch anything, nothing for it but to keep trying!”

He turned around to retrieve some bait from the pail behind him, but yelped in shock and almost fell backwards into the water at seeing that he wasn’t alone on the dock. It took several seconds for his adrenaline to die down enough for him to register that the other person, kneeling a couple of feet away from him and staring intently down into the bucket of worms, was a child. “Oh, it’s just you,” Alois said, recognizing the small girl with ribbons in her braided hair as the archbishop’s quiet ward. “Hello, young Byleth! Are you here to cheer me on as I reel in the big one?”

The girl said nothing, just glanced up at him briefly before returning her attention to the pail. She reached in with both tiny hands, pulled out a particularly large worm, and sat placidly watching as it attempted to squirm away through her fingers.

“Or… you’re here to play with the worms. Okay. Just, uh, if you get any gunk on your pretty dress, tell the archbishop that Alois definitely tried to stop you, alright?” As Alois watched the young girl shifting her hands around to prevent the small creature’s escape, he wondered if she must be lonely. There were other kids around her age that had been taken in by the monastery, but Alois was certain he had never seen Byleth playing with other children. He reached for his discarded fishing pole again and cleared his throat. “Say, would you like it if I taught you how to fish? I promise it will be fun!”

Again, Byleth didn’t reply, but she did allow him to take the worm from her hands to bait the hook. He scooted her closer to the edge of the dock, placed her hands above his on the pole, and showed her the motion to cast the line. When the hook sunk into the water with a satisfying plop! and he was certain the girl had a good grip on the pole, he let go and allowed her to hold it herself. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the small ripples that formed in the water around the fishing line.

“You know,” Alois said suddenly, “it was a great man that taught me how to fish.” He turned to face the girl while she kept the pole steady in her hands. “When I first came to live at Garreg Mach, I wasn’t much older than you are now. I had just lost my parents and was an orphan without anywhere else to go. Just like you, in fact! My earliest time here was spent in a daze. I didn’t know what to do with myself, and back then I was too shy to really talk to anyone else. But my life changed when a knight named Jeralt noticed me and made me his squire!” Alois grinned fondly at the memory. “He taught me everything I know now! How to fight, how to be a knight, why, even how to fish! Though I daresay he was infinitely better at it than I was. I am the person I am today because of old Captain Jeralt, and not a day goes by that I’m not grateful for him.” He scratched at his short beard, searching carefully for his next words. “What I’m trying to say is… I understand how hard it can be to feel alone while growing up. Er, I mean, I know you have Archbishop Rhea in your life and she most certainly cares for you deeply! But, well, I’d like to be there for you, too. Like how the captain was there for me! You can think of me like family, if you want.” He flashed her what he hoped was his most winning smile. “In fact, why don’t you call me ‘Uncle Alois’ from now on!”

Byleth turned to look back at him with an expressionless face. “Alois?” she said, speaking at last.

Alois beamed at her in return. “Yes, my girl?”

“Be quiet.”

His eyes widened in hurt shock. “Wha-”

She put a finger to her lips and then pointed it out at the pond. “You are too loud. You are going to scare the fish.”

Alois’s jaw dropped and he slapped a hand against the side of his head. “Too loud… Of course! THAT’S what I’ve been doing wrong! No wonder I’ve been getting so few bites. Argh, Captain Jeralt used to tell me that all the time, and here I am, still scaring the little fishies away! Why, if you hadn’t-”

The young girl elbowed him ungently, and he shut his mouth abruptly, taking the hint. They sat in silence together, watching the line for any sign of a bite. They didn’t have long to wait. Within a few short minutes, the line went taut and the end of the pole bent down towards the water as the hooked fish tugged. Alois felt a rush of excitement and wanted to reach out to grab the pole and help real it in, but the sight of Byleth intent and focused on her battle with the unseen fish stopped him. She pulled and yanked the pole at intervals, never too roughly, and with very deliberate timing. Finally, she bolted up to her feet and heaved the pole upwards, and at the end of the line a large white trout sailed out of the water to land neatly on the dock between them, flopping on the wooden planks futilely.

Alois leapt up in celebration and laughed heartily. “Would you look at that! Already landed your first catch!” He clapped a hand onto her shoulder proudly. “You’re a natural, lass. Maybe you should be the one teaching me to fish!”

Byleth’s expression remained stoic, but Alois was jovial enough for the both of them as he unhooked the fish and ceremoniously stowed it into a nearby basket. When he looked up from this task, the girl had already baited the hook with a new worm and was casting the line back out into the pond.

Alois chuckled to himself and returned to his seat next to her on the dock, legs dangling just above the surface of the water. “Well, it looks like you’re not in any great need of tutelage in the art of fishing. But I’m sure I can think of something else to help you with! Perhaps…” He rubbed his chin, considering. “You might be a little young for it now, but you should join me in the training grounds sometime! I can help you learn your way around a weapon and show you the techniques I’ve picked up from Captain Jeralt! I recall hearing that Lady Rhea was wanting you to learn how to fight; I’m sure she’d be delighted to have a Knight of Seiros helping with your education in that regard! What do you say? Care to learn some combat tricks from ol’ Uncle Alois when you’re older?”

When Byleth responded almost immediately with a tiny nod and a quiet “okay,” Alois felt his spirits soar.

“Wonderful! In that case, I’ll talk to Lady Rhea and we’ll get started with lessons just as soon as she believes you’re of age!” He beamed at her, and then his eyes lit up with a thought. “You know, the thought of taking on a protégé and of all the good times that are surely ahead of us…” Alois reached behind them, where the bait bucket sat in reach, and pulled out a long worm, letting it dangle in his fingers between the two of them. “…it really WORMS my heart!” he finished, laughing uproariously at his own joke.

Byleth let out a weary snort that a very optimistic or very dense person might mistake for a sound of amusement. Alois, who was often described by others with both of those words, preened with pride.

They spent the rest of the afternoon like that on the docks. Alois filled the time with amicable chatter, punctuated occasionally by Byleth reminding him to keep his volume in check. By the time he suggested, amused, that they ought to leave some fish in the pond for everyone else, the sun was starting to dip below the edge of the horizon. He handed the basket, now filled to the brim with the day’s catches, off to the fishkeeper, and cheerily waved goodbye to the young girl. Byleth gave a slight bow of her head in return, a formal motion that looked perfectly copied from the archbishop, and headed off in the direction of her room.

After that day, whenever he went fishing, Alois would grab two poles before settling in at his favorite spot on the docks. Often, a few minutes after he had cast his line, Byleth would suddenly appear at his side as silently as if she had just materialized there. She would say nothing in greeting, instead just picking up the extra pole he had placed next to him on the dock and casting her own line out into the water. She wouldn’t join him every time; he imagined that her various lessons set forth by Lady Rhea kept her busy at times, or that any number of things happening in the monastery may be more interesting to a young girl than sitting here with just himself and fishing. But still, he was quite pleased with the times when she would show up. He would fill the silence as they sat on the dock with chatter about whatever popped into his head: he would talk about how his day had gone, his last mission with the Knights of Seiros, and frequently tell stories of his time with Captain Jeralt. Meanwhile, she would reel in catches at a rate that made mockery of the few fish he pulled in. He was never entirely sure if she enjoyed his company or just tolerated his presence, but he treasured those days.

It would only be a couple of years later that Archbishop Rhea acquiesced to his request to start combat training with Byleth. The girl took to weapons as naturally as she had to a fishing pole.

Figuring that the girl would need to build up muscles before handling anything too heavy, he had started her out with a wooden practice lance. Byleth quickly grasped the basics that he showed her, from form to how to efficiently strike, and she seemed to have a knack for accurately performing moves after seeing someone else perform them. Alois found her growing proficient faster than he would have thought possible, and as others in the Knights of Seiros watched the young girl progress with her lance work, they would often step in to teach her more tricks or give her lessons with other training weapons.

The knights were fond of their young student and enthusiastically encouraged the girl to keep practicing combat skills with them. As years passed, Byleth’s rapid progression in weapon handling was viewed as nothing less than prodigious, and it was said that if there was anyone in the monastery that was more delighted with her than Archbishop Rhea, it would have to be the good-humored knight Alois, who had been spotted more than once watching her train with tears of pride shining in his eyes.

~~~

Not long after the appointment of Garreg Mach’s newest physician, Byleth was in tow behind Rhea to pay her a visit. Manuela Casagranda was all charming smile and graceful air upon opening the door to her office to find the archbishop. “Lady Rhea! What an absolute delight! What can I do for you?”

Rhea smiled graciously in return and guided Byleth forward with a hand pressed lightly to her back. Manuela’s smile wavered slightly upon seeing the small girl gazing blankly up at her, but just for a moment. “Good morning, Professor Manuela,” Rhea said pleasantly. “I have been receiving glowing reports about the progress of your students in the healing arts. I know you must be busy settling into life here at our fine academy, but I was hoping you might find the time to tutor my ward as well. She is exceptionally bright, and I believe she may prove to have a talent with Faith magic that will serve her well in her future.”

Manuela glanced down at the proclaimed exceptionally bright child, who had now turned her gaze to one of the windows in the office and was staring out at the sky without any apparent interest. “Oh! Well… I am rather busy, but I suppose I can find the time. Children are the future after all, and it would be such an honor to teach the ward of the archbishop herself!”

Rhea’s smile brightened as she pushed Byleth further into the room. “That is indeed wonderful to hear. You have my gratitude. She has training exercises in an hour with the Knights of Seiros that I will return to escort her to. Until then, I leave her in your capable hands.” She inclined her head and shut the door, leaving Manuela blinking with all trace of her smile vanished.

“What? NOW?” She asked the closed door incredulously. When the door declined to answer her, she heaved a sigh that would have reached the back audience in a crowded theatre and looked towards her new charge. Byleth turned slowly from the window to stare placidly back at her. After several long seconds of mutual silent staring, Manuela shrugged in resignation and slipped into a chair at her small table, indicating for the girl to take the opposite seat. “Alright, well, let’s start with the basics, shall we? As one would hope is apparent, the basis of Faith magic is faith itself…”

The lesson dragged on at a crawl, with Byleth spending half the time with her blank gaze on Professor Manuela’s face as she explained the foundations of Faith magic and the other half of the time staring fixedly back out the window. She never spoke a word, only nodding slightly when Manuela paused to ask if she understood something or if she was even paying attention. Manuela’s finger irritably tapped a rhythm on the table between them.

“Ugh,” she groaned after twenty minutes of this. “You, child, are paying even less attention to me than that dreadful man I went on a date with last night!” She leaned across the table, and the young girl flicked her eyes back from the window to meet Manuela’s annoyed gaze. “Do you know what the last thing he said to me was? ‘I feel terrible for your students, needing to listen to you go on all day.’ The nerve! And after I thought we were having such a nice time, too. Can you believe that!?” Sensing that some response was expected of her, Byleth shook her head. Manuela slumped back in her seat with a roughly exhaled breath. “See? You get it! I’m a catch, dammit! Oh, I mean, um, darn it… And do you want to know what the guy I was seeing before him did to me?” At Byleth’s expressionless nod, Manuela launched into her rant in earnest, detailing all of the catastrophes and wrongs she had endured over her last several date nights out on the town. Byleth kept her eyes on the professor throughout this time, watching the motion of Manuela’s hands as she gestured angrily during her story.

“…and then I said, ‘Leave then! I could have any guy I want just begging to spend time in my company, I don’t need you!’ Oooh, it gets me riled up just thinking about it! What a total jerk.” Manuela sat fuming for a few moments, before considering the quiet girl across from her. “Say, you’re actually a pretty nice listener after all, aren’t you? Letting me go on like that… I feel like a weight’s been lifted off me, honestly! You know, usually I think of children to be quite fine in their own way but not necessarily something I want to be around. You’re not so bad though. In fact, you’re quite welcome here anytime you-”

She was interrupted by a knocking on her office door. Manuela excused herself from the table with a serene “One moment, dear, I’ll be right back,” and crossed the room to open the door. She looked slightly puzzled to see Archbishop Rhea standing there. Hanging a little behind her was Alois, one of the Knights of Seiros. He leaned sideways to catch sight of Byleth in the office behind Manuela and gave the child an ostentatious wink.

“Hello, Professor Manuela,” Rhea said, smiling her usual calm smile. “I am here to see my dear ward to her training session with the knights. Thank you again for taking the time to work with her. I trust that the lesson went well?”

“Lesson…?” Manuela repeated quizzically, before paling slightly and quickly trying to regain composure. “Of course, yes, her Faith lesson! Yes, um, I would say that it went quite well!” She turned to face Byleth, who was slipping out of her chair to approach them, and shot her a meaningful look. “Yes, wouldn’t you say so, dear?”

No expression flickered across Byleth’s face to indicate if she had caught the look, but she did nod in response to the question. The archbishop’s face lit up. “That is wonderful, my child. Would you like to share something you have learned today?”

Byleth paused and tilted her head slightly, seemingly quite lost in thought. After several long moments, she parroted, “Never go on a second date with a man that says you remind him of his mother.”

Rhea’s expression at once became unreadable. Alois fought desperately not to laugh and instead made a noise like a man trying to discretely choke on a frog. Probably quite wisely, he took hold of Byleth’s hand and led her briskly out of the hallway and presumably onwards to the training grounds. Manuela felt the blood drain from her face as the archbishop remained in place, continuing to stare her down. “Manuela?”

She gulped slightly, some part of her wondering what the record was for how quickly a professor at Garreg Mach had ever managed to get fired. “Yes, Lady Rhea?”

“I believe we will need to have a long discussion before your next lesson with my ward.”

“Of… of course, Lady Rhea.”

“Well, look on the bright side, Professor Manuela! It could have been worse!” Alois said cheerily, reaching across the table to refill Manuela’s glass. The knight that had taken Byleth to her training had later come to check on the professor, offering to take her out for a drink to console her.

“Just Manuela, please,” she said nigh reflexively with a purr in her voice, before grabbing her drink and leaning back in her chair with a grimace. “And I can hardly imagine how that could have been worse. Did you see the look on Lady Rhea’s face? I really thought I was about to get excommunicated from the church, at the very least! It’s nothing short of a miracle that she’s giving me another chance after that.”

Alois’s grin remained in place, undeterred. “Well, exactly! Trust me, something must have gone right considering how readily the archbishop agreed to follow-up lessons. You know your colleague, Professor Hanneman?”

She nodded, her frown deepening at the mention of that name. She hadn’t yet spent much time around Hanneman, but already the man’s judgmental stares and better-than-thou attitude made Manuela prickly whenever she was in his presence.

Alois leaned in confidentially as he told his story. “Well, I daresay your first lesson with the girl went better than his. The first time Lady Rhea brought Byleth to him for a tutoring session in Reason, he started going on about Crests instead halfway through his lesson with her. Apparently at some point, he off-handedly mentioned that he wished he could test her blood for the presence of a Crest and looked away for a moment, and when he had turned back around, Byleth had grabbed a letter opener off his desk and used it to cut her hand and was just sitting there, mutely offering her bleeding finger to him!”

Manuela’s eyes widened in shock while Alois just shook his head ruefully. “Let me tell you, Archbishop Rhea was far from pleased with him after that! And in his following panic of being faced with a bleeding child, I don’t believe he ever did figure out if she had a Crest or not. Anyway, he wasn’t allowed to see Byleth for a month after that, and then when he finally was able to teach her again, Seteth chaperoned all his lessons for quite a while.” He raised his still half-full glass to her with a wink. “So, like I said, it could have been worse. At least she didn’t stab herself under your care!”

“Yes, well, I suppose there is that at least,” Manuela agreed, making a mental note to hold that story over Hanneman’s head the next time she felt his ego was getting the better of him. “Poor thing, though. I’m glad she seems fine now.”

Alois hummed in agreement, and then rose from his seat, stretching. “This has been quite pleasant, Manuela, but I’m afraid it’s about time I head back and hit the hay.”

Manuela’s face fell in disappointment. “What, already? Surely you can indulge me a little longer?”

He chuckled but shook his head. “I’m afraid I have an early morning tomorrow. I’m hitting the road to go spend some time with my lovely wife!” If he noticed that Manuela’s disappointment seemed to double upon hearing that statement, he gave no indication of it. “It’s a surprise visit you know, she has no idea I’m coming. I can’t wait to see the smile that will light up her face when she opens the door to see me standing there! Anyway, welcome again to Garreg Mach, Professor! And here’s hoping your next lessons with young miss Byleth go better, eh?” He winked at her and dropped some coins on the table to cover their tab, and headed out of the tavern while whistling an upbeat tune.

“I’ll keep her from stabbing herself, at least,” Manuela mumbled sullenly to no one in particular. She sat in silence for a moment before grabbing Alois’s abandoned drink and finishing it off in one determined chug.

~~~

Seteth frowned deeply as he traced out the route that was outlined on the map spread out on his desk. “There were several knights patrolling along this road before the attack,” he mumbled, speaking more to himself than to his companion. Rhea remained silent, familiar enough with him to know he was speaking to work out his thoughts, rather than trying to converse. “They would have noticed if there were bandits gathering in large enough numbers to have taken out the entire merchant caravan. But that particular caravan employed several skilled mercenaries as guards; even with a particularly clever ambush, I cannot fathom that a small group could have pulled off this crime. There is something strange about this…”

Rhea gently placed a hand on his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the present. “It matters not how it was managed,” she reminded him calmly. “It matters only that peace was shattered and innocent lives lost in this attack. It is our duty to see to these bandits before they can cause any more harm to the people of Fódlan. I would like for you to take a contingent of knights and deliver swift retribution.”

Seteth nodded, but his frown remained. “It will be done, of course. I merely wish we had more information on these men and how they managed to go undetected when they had enough force to slaughter an entire caravan.”

The archbishop smiled sadly at him. “I do not know, but I do know that they will not find our Knights of Seiros to be so easily defeated.” She looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing. “I need to attend to something before I see you off. Will you wait here for my return? There is one last matter I must discuss with you in regard to this mission.”

He agreed and returned his attention to the map as Rhea swept from the room. The knights were incredibly well trained of course, and even the smaller number he was taking would be able to deal with any number of undisciplined bandits hiding in the woods. Still, something about this made him uneasy…

He startled when the door opened suddenly, and a familiar voice reached him. “Rhea?” Byleth called, peering into the room.

“Ah, Byleth,” Seteth answered, motioning for her to come into the room. “The archbishop will be returning shortly. You can wait here for her. It is nothing too urgent, I hope?”

Byleth slipped in through the door, closing it quietly behind her, and approached his desk to join him in peering down at the map. “No. A priest just asked me to pass on a message to her.”

Observing her out of the corner of his eye, Seteth found himself again surprised at her height. She wasn’t particularly tall – Seteth still easily towered over her, at least two heads taller – but he could remember when he had first arrived at the monastery to advise Rhea and her young ward had barely reached his knees. The memory of Byleth as a small girl brought an unbidden smile to his lips. It had been difficult, to say the least, to have been parted from Flayn. Perhaps in part due to that, he had stepped in to help raise Byleth with more gusto than would have been strictly required. He had overseen many of her lessons, and had personally prepared more than a few for her himself. When he had a free evening, he would read her fables that he had originally created for another small girl; when he had inevitably run out of stories, he had taken up penning new ones in between his church duties. And if once or twice he had spotted some sweets or a toy at the market and bought it for her- well, it was only natural that he would want to try to coax a smile out of the girl’s blank face, wasn’t it?

He reflected that it was fortunate that Rhea had taken this particular child under her care. He imagined that her emotionless demeanor and apparent lack of interest in her surroundings would likely have driven a wedge between her and any other caretakers that the orphaned girl may have ended up with. Certainly, he had heard enough concerned whispers within the church regarding the girl that had never smiled or cried. But he shared in Rhea’s certainty that Byleth was a good person, and further, there was something… special, it seemed, about her, some incredible potential that he was sure resided within her…

Seteth shook off the thoughts and refocused on the present and the Byleth now with him, 14 years of age and with lean muscles forming in her limbs as a result of her years training with the Knights of Seiros. He tapped the spot on the map that marked where the attack had occurred and stated, “While I have you here, I would like to pick your brain about something…”

Byleth stared down at the map while he related the problem to her, as if she was expecting words to form on the parchment with an answer for him. She was quiet for some time after he had finished speaking, and then finally lifted a finger to point at some hills nearby the spot of the ambush. “Could it have been a large force that was using the hills here to hide from the knights?” she pondered, tapping the area to clarify where she meant.

Seteth’s deep frown returned as he shook his head, focusing on the spot that she indicated. “Doubtful. That area is well known for containing dens of giant wolves. Any large group taking up refuge there would risk the wrath of those creatures.”

There came the sound of the door opening again, and they both looked up to see Rhea entering the room and moving towards them, her face alight with the warm smile that always seemed to appear on her face whenever Byleth was in her presence. Byleth, for her part, remained with as stoic a face as ever, although she straightened abruptly and nodded politely to the archbishop in greeting as she came over to join them.

“It is fortunate that you are here, dear child,” Rhea said serenely, placing a hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “I have something to discuss with the both of you.” She met Seteth’s eye and smiled. “Seteth, I would like you to take my ward along with you for this mission.”

‘Discuss,’ as it happened, had been a very liberal choice of wording from the archbishop. She had listened patiently as Seteth fervently argued against bringing the girl along for a dangerous mission against an unknown number of forces, but ultimately she made it clear that her decision on the matter was final. Rhea was firm in her desire to familiarize Byleth with the church’s duty to the people, and that included the method for dealing with those sinners that threatened the peace of Fódlan. Byleth had agreed to go as casually as if it was a trip to pick up kitchen supplies from the marketplace, and Seteth was finally forced to relent.

As they rode out with a small contingent of knights, Seteth tried not to let his unease be too visible. He had swapped out his usual wyvern for a horse so he could easily ride beside Byleth’s own calm mare. Seteth had relegated her to the back of the troop, flanked on either side by two knights he trusted to act as her bodyguard. While he hadn’t been able to prevent Byleth from coming, he had at least forced the agreement that she was here to witness and learn rather than risk joining the battle. Although she had brought a lance with her, Seteth made it clear that the weapon was for her to use only in emergencies and otherwise would remain strapped with her small traveling pack to her horse’s saddle. He remained close to her while they approached the stretch of road where the attack had occurred, keeping up a steady stream of advice the entire time.

“While there is much to learn from witnessing a battle,” Seteth said sternly, “you need to survive it in order to gain that knowledge. Do keep in mind that that is your only objective on this mission. Stay close to the knights assigned to protect you, and if need be, flee.”

Byleth stared back at him with a blank expression. “Seteth, Rhea wanted me here for this. You know I cannot flee. It will be alright; I have been training for combat with the knights for as long as I can remember.”

Seteth made a noise of disapproval. “That is not saying much, considering your youth and the fact that a strong memory is hardly one of your assets.” Byleth simply shrugged, knowing she had no defense for that. “Besides which, training in a controlled environment where no one wants to hurt you is vastly different from a battle with desperate people who will do anything to survive. I remind you again, you are not to join this fight under any circumstances. Let myself and the Knights of Seiros handle these bandits. Lady Rhea may have wanted you here, but undoubtedly more than that she will want you to return to her unharmed.” Seteth’s expression softened as he considered the child that he had watched growing up for over a decade now. “And that is what I want, as well. Please, do not make me worry for you during this…”

There was a pause while Byleth considered him in silence before finally giving a single nod in understanding. Seteth let out a breath of relief that he hadn’t realized he was holding. He knew by now that Byleth was rarely concerned with her own wellbeing, but she never went back on her word once it was given.

“Sir?” One of the knights guarding Byleth got his attention and pointed further along the road, where the scout that had been sent ahead was waiting for him, looking anxious.

Seteth frowned and motioned for the knights to halt while he rode ahead to join the scout. Byleth watched him go, but remained where she was at the back of the formation. Once Seteth caught up to him, the nervous scout led him further down the road, and then slipped into the woods along the road. Seteth had to dismount to follow him between the trees.

They had been walking away from the road for a couple of minutes when the scout stopped, indicating something on the ground in front of him while he scanned around warily. It took Seteth a moment to make sense of the sizable indents in the soft mud of the forest floor: a paw print. A huge paw print, nearly the size of a full-grown man in length.

Seteth hissed through his teeth and snapped his attention back to the scout. “A giant wolf, this close to the road? At this time of year, there should still be enough game that they avoid people. What in the world is this one doing here?”

The scout shook his head, continuing to watch the forest around him as if expecting the creature to lunge at them at any moment. “Dunno, but Goddess, I hate the damn things. Maybe this one had bad luck hunting and is getting desperate? Or maybe it-”

He was cut off as a commotion echoed through the woods from the direction of the road. The scout swore and plunged through the undergrowth, dashing towards the sound of the knights shouting. Seteth hesitated for a second and then turned to rush back along the path they had taken from the road, hoping to backtrack and reach the horse he had left at the edge of the woods. He recognized the sounds of an ambush, and wanted to get back on a mount that could carry him quickly through the chaos and back to Byleth if she was under threat.

Seteth rushed through the woods faster than he would have thought possible, but with the adrenaline coursing through him, it felt like a torturously long time before he cleared the edge of the tree line and stood again on the road. With a veteran’s eye, he scanned the battle to assess the situation. The knights had formed two lines facing outwards from the road as the bandits attacked them from the woods on either side. Inside the two lines of troops, a handful of knights had gathered with bows, returning fire into the woods at the hidden enemies shooting arrows at the soldiers. A steady stream of bandits came crashing out of the woods charging the knights, brandishing brutal axes and howling war cries. Through the chaos, it was impossible for Seteth to catch sight of Byleth.

His blood ran cold as he spotted a giant furred creature crash through the ranks of knights, slashing and tearing through flesh at a terrifying speed. That at least explained how the bandits had managed to stay hidden; if they had captured or tamed a giant wolf, they would have been able to use its den as a hideout as well as being able to turn its devastation against unfortunate passing travelers.

The wolf pounced, pinning a screaming soldier down with impossibly heavy paws, and lunged for their throat. A nearby knight broke away from the line and charged the creature to come to her ally’s aid, but Seteth watched no longer to see how the struggle played out. He turned, searching frantically for his horse. He spotted the terrified steed nearby, kicking desperately to keep a second giant wolf at bay as it circled the horse, slavering hungrily.

Seteth leveled his lance at the beast and yelled as he rushed it, drawing its attention away from his horse. The spooked horse took advantage of the opportunity to escape, galloping down the road at top speed away from the battle. Seteth had just enough time to wish he had brought his courageous wyvern instead before the wolf was on him, snapping its jaws inches away from his arm. He jumped back just in time to avoid the limb getting mauled and spun his spear, bashing the side of it against the creature’s head. The wolf stumbled to the side, staggered from the unexpected blow. Seteth jabbed the lance at the beast’s neck, but the wolf recovered in time to bite his lance, catching the spear head in its mouth and stopping its motion. Surprised, Seteth attempted to tug his spear out of the thing’s mouth, but the wolf dug in with its paws and pulled back, matching him for strength. He pulled for a few more seconds, provoking the beast to tug against him with all its might, before suddenly bracing himself and lunging forward with the beast. The beast let out a strangled yelp as the spear was shoved down its throat, the momentum of the weapon aided by the wolf’s own pulling, and fell backwards to helplessly hack and sputter. Seteth finished it off quickly, driving the blade of the lance between the creature’s eyes.

Seteth was relieved to find that in the time he had been fighting off the second wolf, the main battle had died down. Once the surprise of the ambush had waned, the experience and discipline of the Knights of Seiros had handily turned the tide. The giant wolf that had pinned down a soldier had been slain, and what bandits had not fled now lay dead or dying on the ground.

He was much less relieved to find that Byleth’s horse remained, but that its rider was nowhere to be found.

Seteth pushed away at unhelpful memories that came unbidden to his mind as he searched frantically through the ranks for any sign of the girl, flashes of a war long since passed and of finding the broken bodies of the two people he had cared for the most. He fought against his rising panic as he scanned again through the knights and caught no sight of Byleth, trying to convince himself that this wasn’t like that time, that she had probably hidden in the forest or had listened to him and fled, that she was clever and talented and could look after herself and most certainly wasn’t lying on the ground somewhere, body twisted in agony and fear as her lifeblood poured out through some devastating wound…

“Sir Seteth!” He jumped at the call from one of the knights, nerves already on edge. The knight directed him to one of their allies, who was on the ground being tended to by a healer and struggling to grab her weapon and get back on her feet despite the two arrows that were lodged deeply into her chest and thigh. Seteth recognized her as one of the bodyguards he had assigned to Byleth and nearly tripped over his feet in his rush to get to her.

“Where is she?” he demanded of her, more harshly than he intended. Later he could remember to be ashamed and seek out the knight to apologize and ensure that she was alright, but only after he could find Byleth alive and well.

The healer leveled a reproachful glare at him while the injured knight managed to gasp out, “I’m sorry, they… A group of those dastards snuck up from the rear during that… during the ambush. They grabbed the girl while we were still trying to figure out what was happening and they…” She raised a shaking arm to point at a path that had been beaten into the forest. “That way! They took her that way! Give me my spear, I can still-!”

Seteth had already taken off running, tearing through the woods in the direction the wounded soldier had indicated and heedless of the sounds of several knights following after him.

He could no longer fight off his panic as he sprinted deeper into the woods, calling Byleth’s name at the top of his lungs and straining to catch any sound in response. With every second he grew more certain that he was too late.

He couldn’t know how much time had passed when he suddenly heard it. In response to his latest desperate cry of Byleth’s name, a reply so quiet and calm that it was in ridiculous contrast to his own fearful pleas.

“Seteth.”

Byleth’s voice, coming from just a little further ahead. He cleared through the few trees separating them and, for a few seconds, forgot how to breath as he took in the sight laid out in front of him.

She was sitting with her back against a tree, as relaxed as if she was sitting on the dock at the monastery’s pond with a fishing pole in her hand. Not at all mindful of the fact that she was completely soaked in blood. There were four bodies strewn about her with deep, efficient wounds, and the bloodied sword laying in the grass beside Byleth left little doubt as to what had ended their lives.

Seteth collected himself and crossed over to Byleth, kneeling down in front of the girl. “Byleth, I am so sorry, I should not have left your side… Please, remain calm and I will call a healer for you immediately!”

Byleth tilted her head slightly, staring at him blankly. “A healer? I do not believe I need one. I am not hurt.”

It was Seteth’s turn to stare blankly. “Not hurt? You are absolutely covered in blood! It is a miracle you are alive! Let me-”

She shook her head and got to her feet, reflexively brushing stray dirt off of the hem of her dress despite the fact that the deep crimson stains soaked into the cloth already spelled ruin for the garment. “It is not my blood.”

Seteth looked around again at the bodies on the ground and then stared back at her disbelievingly. “Not your… How? You were unarmed and surrounded!”

He was distantly aware of the sounds of the knights that had followed him catching up to them. As the small group arrived, several of them cursed or let out quiet prayers as they took in the scene and the expressionless girl at its center. Byleth paid no mind to the knights as she explained herself to Seteth. “I do not believe they expected me to be able to fight. They were talking about using me for ransom while taking me away from the group. Once their guard was dropped, I grabbed one of their swords and…” she shrugged. “Did what I have been trained to do.”

When Seteth just continued to stare, having yet to collect his thoughts into words, Byleth dropped her gaze to the ground. “Ah. I apologize, I truly did not intend to disobey you by fighting. I thought this might qualify as an emergency, but I am sorry if I was wrong…”

Seteth shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I am not upset with you, Byleth. I am merely…” How to finish that sentence? Beyond relieved that she was alive, proud that she had saved herself against terrible odds, sad that she had been forced to kill while she was still so young, worry that she did not seem at all affected by the blood now quite literally on her hands… There was nothing he could say that would express all that he was feeling.

He gave her shoulder a squeeze and smiled weakly, settling for expressing what he felt the strongest. “I am relieved to find you unhurt. When I could not find you, I admit that I feared the worst. It is good to see you in one piece.”

Seteth shifted his attention to the knights standing a distance away, talking amongst themselves. Many of them looked relieved or impressed at seeing how the girl who had trained with them for so long had handled herself. But he was disquieted to notice that several of them appeared concerned, or even distrustful as they eyed Byleth with her blood-soaked clothes and blank expression. He frowned to himself and called to the knights, ordering them to return to the main group to help the injured and prepare for the trip back to the monastery.

Once he was alone again with Byleth, he looked over the bodies one last time and considered the girl again. “Byleth… Are you okay?”

“I have told you, I am not hurt.” She held her arms outward and turned, demonstrating her lack of wounds.

“That is not what I…” He sighed. “I am glad to hear that. Let us return to report our success to Lady Rhea.”

She nodded and followed him back to the path, not sparing a glance for the bandits she had felled.

Upon their return, Rhea was most pleased to hear how her ward had handled herself on her first time accompanying the knights on a mission. The archbishop lavished the girl with praise for a job well done, which Byleth acknowledged with a respectful bow before taking her leave to finally clean up and wash the blood off of herself.

For a while, it seemed that life would continue as normally at the monastery despite the incident at the battle with the bandits. Although Seteth kept a close eye on her, Byleth truly did not seem to be suffering from what she had witnessed and had needed to do. He had checked on her once or twice at night in her room next to Rhea’s and found that she slept as peacefully and deeply as ever. In the mornings, she never had dark bags under her eyes to indicate having troubled dreams, and when Seteth spoke with her tutors, they all reported that her behavior had not changed. By every measure, she really was doing fine.

Though while that day seemed to have no apparent effect on Byleth herself, as time passed Seteth noticed that the people within Garreg Mach were certainly viewing her differently. The tale of an emotionless girl surrounded by the bodies of people that she killed had been spread from the knights to every corner of the monastery. He had caught several people whispering about it, from kitchen staff running errands in the market to members of the clergy mumbling secretly to each other after services. While these people would look thoroughly chastised when Seteth would deliver a glare or pointed lecture to them, it did nothing to prevent the story from spreading and taking on a life of its own.

Whereas it was once common for visitors to try to curry favor with the archbishop by acting friendly with her ward, now many seemed intent on avoiding the girl’s eye, and students within the Officers Academy gave her a wide berth as they hurried between their classes.

Meanwhile, pleased with the results of Byleth’s first mission, Archbishop Rhea had approved the girl continuing to join the knights on their dangerous duties outside of Garreg Mach. As Byleth was involved in more and more battles, the stories about her only grew.

One day, while inspecting the cathedral, Seteth’s attention was drawn to a quiet conversation between a knight on duty and a priest when he heard one of them mention Byleth’s name.

“…had demolished the pirates’ entire right flank and barely broken a sweat!”

The priest scoffed. “Is her skill such a surprise? Your order has been training her since she was old enough to lift a sword, not to mention Lady Rhea herself took her in. She must have seen something in the child.”

The knight shook her head urgently. “Her skill isn’t what’s strange! I’m telling you, there wasn’t a hint of emotion on her face the entire time. Not fear, not anger, Goddess, she didn’t even wince when she took an arrow to the shoulder! She just kept tearing through them with the damned thing still lodged in her, and her expression stayed as still as the faces of the Saints! Excepting that you never see the statues of the Saints covered in blood.”

The priest frowned at the imagery, but whatever reply he was about to make was interrupted by Seteth pointedly clearing his throat. The two gossipers hurried off, embarrassed, but theirs was only one of countless such conversations happening throughout the church.

He was relieved to find that not everyone had taken to avoiding the girl. Most of the Knights of Seiros were proud of her, and one in particular, by the name of Alois, still adored Byleth to the point of referring to himself as an uncle figure to her. Many among the faculty of the Officer’s Academy were also unfazed by the rumors about her. Seteth had once walked into the common room near his office to find Professor Manuela tearing into an unfortunate soul that had apparently come to her in search of gossip about Byleth. It was probably the only time he had ever been happy to find her yelling at another staff member.

Still, he couldn’t help but be concerned for the girl when he would see her walking around Garreg Mach alone. If Byleth noticed that she was largely avoided, she seemed entirely unconcerned about it herself. But Seteth worried for her being lonely or feeling excluded with her lack of company as the years passed by.

That changed shortly before Byleth’s 21st birthday, after the person most precious to Seteth at last came to the monastery.

~~~

Flayn hurried excitedly out of the entrance hall and weaved through the crowd entering Garreg Mach from the small marketplace outside. She took just a moment to pause, astounded by being surrounded by so many people after so long spent being hidden away. It was very nearly overwhelming, watching everyone going about their business in the crowd, caught up in their own lives and the many complexities therein.

She shook herself abruptly as she remembered her goal and sprinted towards the Garreg Mach fishing pond, apologizing profusely when she nearly crashed into an older woman that had been speaking to the gatekeeper.

The pond was lovely, although seeing the sun glinting off the surface of the water momentarily made her yearn again for the sea and simpler times spent beside it. Perhaps that reverie was why the figure sitting at the end of the dock with a fishing pole in her hands seemed so oddly familiar to her. Or maybe it was because the woman was exactly as her brother had described her to be (Flayn had been practicing that all day, overusing the word “brother” to an absurd extent so that it would fly to her tongue on reflex when she referred to Seteth).

The young woman on the dock had dark blue hair that crept just below her shoulders and had ribbons twisting through her braided hair. She wore an azure dress that had been altered to allow for easy movement; in color and embroidery, the garment matched Flayn’s own, but the cut would prevent any restriction in movement of the wearer’s limbs, giving some combat practicality to the outfit.

Flayn slipped past a couple of stray cats that had gathered at the edge of the pond to beg for a bite of fish and approached the woman, letting her feet fall a little more heavily than necessary against the wooden planks so the noise would let the fisher know she had company.

“Excuse me,” Flayn piped up, coming to a stop next to the woman. “Would you happen to be Byleth?”

The woman turned to her and mutely nodded.

Flayn clapped her hands together, her smile brightening. “Ah, wonderful! You are just as my brother described you. It is almost uncanny, truly!” Byleth continued to stare blankly at her, and she clasped a hand over her mouth in a sudden realization. “Oh! I did not yet tell you who I am!” She placed one fist at her sternum and the other behind her back and ducked into a bow. “My name is Flayn. I am the younger sister of Seteth! I will be living here in the monastery with him now. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you!”

So far, most of the people Flayn had been introduced to here at the monastery expressed surprise and confusion at the sudden appearance of a sister of Seteth. She was relieved that Byleth seemed to accept the news without question.

“Ah, I see,” Byleth replied evenly. “Welcome to Garreg Mach. The pleasure is mine.”

Flayn beamed. The young woman’s face might not betray any emotion, but her formal manner of speech reminded Flayn of her own family and put her at ease. Though that only made sense, considering her family had raised this girl, after all. Flayn adjusted her dress so she could take a seat beside Byleth on the docks. “You were adopted by Rhea herself, correct? I was so excited when I heard about that! What was it like, growing up with her looking after you?”

Byleth gave a few tiny jerks to the pole in her hands, trying to attract fish to her bait. “I am sorry, I do not have strong recollections of my childhood.” When Flayn deflated slightly in disappointment, Byleth added, “I can tell you that she has treated me very kindly, though.”

Flayn’s smile returned at that. “It is wonderful to hear that! Of course, it is not surprising. Rhea is a very caring person.” She glanced around conspicuously to ensure they were alone with no eavesdroppers nearby before leaning in to continue the conversation in a quieter tone. “Can I share a secret you?” she asked conspiratorially. At Byleth’s nod, she continued. “Rhea and my brother have been very close friends for a very long time. One could almost refer to their relationship as familial!” Flayn’s eyes glinted, trying to get across everything that she wanted to say without putting it into words that would prove dangerous should they reach the wrong ears. “Put that way, the two of us are akin to cousins! I would very much like it if we could be close.”

Byleth tilted her head slightly as she considered that. “I do not think that I quite follow your logic there… Besides, I do not have any true family of my own. I would not know how cousins act.”

Silence hovered between them for a moment. Flayn stared down at her hands folded neatly in her lap before timidly lifting one and placing it gently in the crook of the other woman’s elbow. Although the movement was cautious, a gesture from one unused to casually touching others, her tone was earnest as she spoke again. “In truth, I do not know either. It would seem that we are both very alone in this world. But that is all the more reason that we should stick together, is it not?”

Byleth didn’t respond, and instead just stared at where Flayn’s fingers curled lightly around her arm. Flayn tried not to let her voice waver as she said, “I do not mean to pressure you, of course. I simply thought that…”

She trailed off and withdrew her hand as Byleth stood up and walked away from her to place the fishing pole in the slat at the corner of the dock. Flayn dropped her gaze back down to her lap, feeling ashamed. She had been so hopeful that she might make a friend out of Rhea’s ward, but already it seemed she had botched it so entirely that Byleth did not even deign to speak a word to her while preparing to escape her presence. It would be her own fault for coming in so determined to make a connection where one was not wanted… She was so dejected by the thought, it took her a moment to realize that Byleth had not actually left the dock, and had instead wandered back over to her and extended her hand.

Flayn stared at the offered hand while Byleth continued to stare blankly back at her. “Well then,” Byleth said, “should we start with a tour of Garreg Mach? I could show you around, if you like.”

Flayn gasped in delight and took hold of the extended hand with both of her own. Byleth hauled her up onto her feet as if she was the weight of a feather. “That would be lovely! I wish to see more of the grounds, and I have heard that the greenhouse is a worthy sight to behold!”

Byleth allowed her arm to be hooked onto with Flayn’s own as she led the shorter girl off on their impromptu tour.

~~~

“It is almost… time to… begin…”

Byleth awoke, feeling dazed from the strange dream. She shook her head as if to dislodge the lingering images of a battlefield and a young girl on a throne, and glanced out of her room’s tiny window. The sun was rising, which meant that she had slept in a little longer than usual. Byleth preferred to be up just before dawn to start her morning routine.

She slipped out of bed and padded across her room to her desk and the gifted tea set there (gifted from who, she can’t quite recall – most likely Rhea or Seteth). Once she had a blend of Seiros tea brewing, she moved to the center of her room to give herself ample space as she began her stretches, working out the stiffness that sleep had left in her muscles.

Per her own request, Byleth’s room was mostly bare of furniture. She had her desk, empty except for her tea set, a candle, a quill, and a stack of notes she had taken during lessons and seminars she attended. A smaller sized bookshelf was beside her bed, filled with tomes on various subjects such as battle tactics, weapon usage and maintenance, and magic theory (all dog-eared and worn) as well as books on the history of Fódlan and the teachings of Seiros (all mostly untouched). In one corner she had a small tea table with two chairs tucked under it, although the second chair was rarely needed. And against one wall was a small wardrobe and a weapon rack containing various training weapons, with which she liked to practice her strikes and battle form in the mornings and evenings.

Although Byleth knew that Rhea would happily gift her with whatever she could think to ask for, she preferred keeping her room barren of unnecessary things. She kept as much space empty as possible to give herself plenty of room for exercising and training.

This morning, she chose a weighted training lance from the rack to run through practice thrusts. Sliding into her stance, she leveled the spear and began the steady motion of jab, recenter, jab…

A woman, shaking with fury, pinning down a brutal looking man, her dagger poised above him. “Tell me, Nemesis, do you recall the Red Canyon?” Her voice is dripping with hatred, and with her long green hair and golden headpiece, she looks so much like Rhea…

Her dagger plunges downward, piercing the man’s chest as he lets out a pained, stuttering gasp. “You’ll die for that!” the woman screeches as she pulls the dagger free and raises it again. “Die! DIE!” Each scream of that word is punctuated with her again stabbing the man, well after he cannot possibly still live. Jab, raise, jab…

The lance slipped out of Byleth’s hands and she blinked, the sound of the weapon clanging against the floor returning her to her room.

She’s had that dream before, she’s sure, but never so clearly. Usually it had just been flashes of a battlefield, passing too quickly through her mind to make sense of it, before she finds herself standing alone before a throne basked in a soft green light, with that strange child slumbering upon a seat too large for her. Previously, she had just been trapped in that space watching the girl with green hair and pointed ears as she slept peacefully away until Byleth finally woke up. Her memory isn’t great, but she thinks this is the first time the girl on the throne had ever woken up and spoken to her. Byleth had never really considered the girl for long enough to wonder what she might be like, but if she had, she would not have guessed that one who appeared so calm in slumber would have awoken to be so…

Byleth left the training lance on the ground where she had dropped it and returned to her desk, hoping that the tea she prepared would clear her head. She poured herself a cup and in between taking sips, fetched her familiar red and white ribbons out of a drawer to begin braiding through her hair. She had never been the type to particularly care about her appearance, but it had become habit to do this after Rhea had fixed her hair for so long. Also, she knew that her doing this pleased the archbishop.

Soon after her cup was empty and she had put the last finishing twist into her hair, she heard a knocking at her door. Byleth could easily tell who it was – very few members of the church were allowed on this floor of Garreg Mach, and of those, only one pounded at doors as if they were doing her a personal insult by standing in her way.

“It is not locked, Catherine,” Byleth called, just loud enough that the woman outside would be able to hear her. “Come in.”

Catherine, one of the elites of the Knights of Seiros and occasional personal bodyguard when needed for Byleth, entered the room with her usual wide grin. “You know, my partner will get annoyed with you if she hears you’ve been leaving your door unlocked.” She roughly kicked the door closed behind her so she could lean her back against it, hands behind her head in a relaxed stance while she winked at Byleth. “Do you really want to sit through another one of her ‘how not to get assassinated’ lectures?”

Byleth waved a hand dismissively. “I am a light sleeper and I have taken Shamir’s advice to keep a dagger under my pillow. I will be fine.” Besides which, any assassin after her would likely be after Archbishop Rhea as their true target, and Byleth wanted the opportunity to deal with any would-be killers before they got that chance. She didn’t mention that part, not sure if Catherine would approve or if she would give Byleth a strange look and force her to start locking the door after all.

Instead, she took hold of a clean teacup and held it up in a silent offer for the knight. Catherine smiled but shook her head. “No thanks, I’m just here to tell you that Lady Rhea has a mission for you. She’s in the audience chamber now, so don’t keep her waiting too long. We’ll have to have a cup when you return from your mission, alright?” She cracked her knuckles, her smile taking on a dangerous glint. “And you better come back ready to spar! No one else can hold up in a good old brawling match with me long enough for it to really get fun!”

With that, she waved and departed the room, leaving Byleth alone to finish getting ready for the day.

Archbishop Rhea appeared as serene as ever when Byleth entered the audience chamber to meet with her. Although she was often attended by Seteth and his sister Flayn, who would cheerfully greet Byleth with a wide smile and a wave, this morning she was alone within the grand room. Byleth approached her and bowed respectfully.

“Good morning, dear child,” Rhea greeted, an affectionate smile spreading across her face. “I have a most important task for you this day.”

Byleth straightened and nodded minutely, awaiting her instructions.

“A new year has started at our Officers Academy, and we have three very important people leading our three houses now. I trust that you remember these students?”

Byleth did indeed have vague recollections of the archbishop introducing her to them as they arrived. She remembered a boy from the Kingdom that had impeccable manners and carried himself well, although she had sensed that underneath his etiquette, something terrible was eating at him. Then there was that confident girl that had come from the Empire that had greeted her formally during the introductions, but always seemed to be eyeing her with suspicion when she thought she wouldn’t be noticed. And finally another boy, from the Alliance, that had greeted her like an old friend with a relaxed attitude and an easy smile, although that smile had never quite reached his eyes… She had seen them around a few times within Garreg Mach as they settled in and explored their new school, but had been careful to stay out of their way. She had noticed that ever since she started going on missions, several students attending the academy had seemed to become frightened of her, and she preferred not to bother them if she could help it.

At her nod, Rhea continued. “The Church of Seiros has a duty to protect and to guide these future leaders of Fódlan during their time here and beyond. I have arranged for them to train together under the watchful eye of our knights outside of the walls of Garreg Mach, and I wish for you to join them and ensure their safety.”

Rhea clasped her hands together in front of her and began to say something else but Byleth did not hear it. Instead, as her eyes were drawn to Rhea’s hands, she was again forcibly reminded of that woman in her dream that had looked so much like the archbishop, and those hands which had plunged down a dagger over and over again…

When Byleth again became aware of Rhea in front of her, the archbishop’s smile was gone, replaced with an expression of concern as she observed her ward. “My child, are you well? You seem as if you have something heavy on your mind…”

Byleth internally cursed herself for concerning Rhea and shook her head. “It is nothing, please do not worry. Simply a strange dream that I just recalled.”

She had thought that admitting to being bothered by such a ridiculous thing would let the matter be dropped, but instead Rhea looked at her with a sudden intense interest.

“A strange dream? Please, share it with me. The Goddess speaks to us in all manner of ways, it could prove to be significant…”

Byleth felt like a bit of a fool, but she would never deny a request from Rhea. She dropped her gaze to the floor and related what she remembered of the dream as concisely as possible, from the battlefield, to the woman that had born resemblance to Rhea, and ending with the odd girl sitting upon a throne who had finally deigned to wake up and speak to her.

When she finished speaking, she looked back up to meet the archbishop’s gaze and was startled by the eagerness she saw in the woman’s eyes, accompanied by something else that Byleth was inclined to think of as hunger. “Fascinating… that battle sounds exactly like… and that throne…”

Rhea seemed to be absorbed in her own thoughts. “I… need to think on this and its meaning.” She waved towards the door, no longer looking at Byleth. “You will find the knight escorts and the three students gathered at the gates of Garreg Mach. Go and join them. When you have returned from your mission, please seek me out here.”

Understanding that she was dismissed, Byleth turned and headed towards the door, only to stop as Rhea’s voice called to her again. “Oh, and child?” Byleth paused, looking back over her shoulder. Rhea had focused on her once more. “Those students… I believe a new era will soon grace our continent of Fódlan, Goddess willing. It is destiny that places those three under your care before they are to ascend their thrones and usher in a new dawn of peace. Please, keep that in mind and do all you can to ensure their safety.”

She wasn’t sure why, but Byleth had the sudden sense that Rhea wasn’t actually looking at her now, so much as through her. She inclined her head in acknowledgement and quickly made her way out.

Byleth found the small traveling company just outside the main gates as expected. A few of the knights waved in greeting as she approached, which led to three young heads turning to look at her in near unison. Even if she hadn’t recognized them, their academy uniforms left no doubt as to these being the students she was to look after.

The one with the easy smiles sent her a wink. “Well, this makes me feel special! We’re important enough that the archbishop’s own daughter is going to be escorting us, huh? Oh, it’s… Byleth, right?” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Remember my name?”

“The archbishop’s ward,” Byleth corrected automatically, even though she had the feeling that he had known that. She shifted through a hazy recollection of their introductions. “…Claude.”

Claude’s grin grew wider as if he was delighted by her remembering his name, but the expression still didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The other boy present cleared his throat. “Your tone is perilously close to mocking, Claude. Please do not give our company an inappropriate impression of us.” He dipped into a stiff but polite bow. “I am Dimitri. I know we only spoke once, so it would be no slight if you had forgotten. It is an honor to have you with us today.”

Byleth returned the bow. “Think nothing of it, Dimitri. It is my duty to see to your safety.”

She paused, catching sight of the last student eyeing her warily. She quickly sorted through her fogy memories for the remaining name. “…And you are Edelgard, correct?”

Edelgard was shorter than the other two, but her perfectly straight back lent her a commanding presence nonetheless. “Correct. If your reputation is to be believed, then it would seem that we have the Church of Seiros’s most dedicated and efficient soldier with us. I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that you are on our side.”

For some reason, her words made Byleth’s fingers itch for the reassuring weight of the sword at her belt, but she ignored the feeling. “For as long as you are attending the Officers Academy,” she said instead, “you are under the Church’s protection, and thus my own protection. Luck is not involved.”

Before she could get a reply to that, a clear, familiar voice came booming from the front of the formation. “Alright,” Alois called, looking over the assembled group and flashing a quick smile to Byleth when he caught sight of her. “It looks as though everyone is here! Our destination is a field that has been outfitted for training just outside of a small village by the name of Remire. We aren’t anticipating any trouble, but preparedness is a virtue. And you students, please alert any knight if you feel something is amiss or if anything is troubling you. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you three bright sparks of hope for the future, now would we?”

He let out a lighthearted chuckle, as if the thought of anything happening on such a beautiful day was ridiculous. “I believe that covers it. Well then, if we are all ready? On my call, march!”

And with that, that company was on the move, Byleth remaining close by the three students as they left Garreg Mach on the road behind them, headed onwards toward their destination.

Chapter Text

Byleth tore through the woods as quickly as her legs would carry her, keeping her senses on alert for any sign of the missing students. She had gone with the knights to inspect the training field and returned to the camp early to check in on the house leaders, only to find that they had vanished amidst signs of a struggle. She had wasted no time, tracking the traces of their escape towards Remire.

As the sihlouettes of the village houses appeared through the treeline, the familiar ringing of blades meeting blades reached her ears, along with a booming voice calling out orders. It was not a voice that she recognized from her many missions with the knights, nor did it belong to one of the young students she was searching for.

Byleth continued to hurry forward, following the sounds of metal crashing against metal. Clearing through the trees, she indeed found a battle raging in the outskirts of the village, but she didn't recognize the combatants. Rather than the armored knights she was expecting to find, a group of bandits were clashing with another battle-hardened company, mostly outfitted in rough leathers or chainmail. A mercenary group, from the looks of them. And at the vanguard she spotted her missing students, remaining close to a large commanding man that was shouting orders to the assembled mercs. He had blonde hair tied into a ponytail behind his head and was wearing an orange tunic over his armor. He handled his lance like he was born with it in his hands, and something about his technique teased at Byleth's memories.

She charged through the battlefield, weaving her way through combatants and trying to not draw attention to herself in the manner that Shamir had shown her, hoping to reach the students as quickly as possible. She had needed to roll into a dodge once to avoid a bandit's lance, but managed to get close to the mercenary leader guarding the house leaders while she avoided the worst of the fighting.

The man in orange made quick work of a ruffian that had gotten dangerously close to Dimitri, and then whipped around with his spear at the ready at the sound of her approach.

The moment he laid eyes on Byleth, the man stopped dead, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging open. He slipped out of his battle stance and stared at her like she was a specter given form. Her eyes narrowed; she wasn't unused to people staring at her, but from the look of him, this seemed to be a hardened man that had seen more than his fair share of battles, and ought to be experienced enough to not drop his guard so completely in the middle of a skirmish.

And there was good reason not to drop one's guard: a bandit with a wicked-looking sword was taking advantage of the mercenary leader's distraction to aim a strike at his unprotected neck. Byleth dashed forward with a determined burst of speed and reached them just in time to catch the blow with her own blade, stopping the ruffian's sword inches away from the man's skin. The sharp sound of steel on steel so close to his ear seemed to finally break the merc out of his stupor. He twisted around and drove his lance through the offender's chest, and the bandit dropped limply to the ground.

An impressed whistle sounded from their side. "Nice moves!" Claude called from where he crouched in a nearby patch of trees, bow at the ready in his hands. "And good of you to finally join us!"

"Good of you to not get killed while I was gone," Byleth replied evenly, readying her sword again and taking stock of their situation while the merc beside her freed his lance from the fallen man's chest.

The bandit group had been scattered after being successfully repelled by the mercenaries, and were currently regrouping further back away from the village, aiming to take some cover in the surrounding woods. From the look of things, they had been expecting an easy fight with picking off the three students, and were recovering from the disarray caused by a talented merc group coming to the students' aid.

Byleth took advantage of the momentary reprieve to check over the house leaders. None of them seemed particularly perturbed by the attack. They were themselves calmly surveying the battlefield, and Claude was still wearing his usual smile. Dimitri's sleeve was torn and bloody where he had taken a grazing blow, but he remained steady on his feet. Edelgard rested her heavy axe on her shoulder while she scanned the battlefield, revealing that her small frame held more strength than her size belied.

The mercenary scanned the field as well, confirming that they were momentarily in the clear before turning to speak to Byleth. "Hey, thanks for the assist there," he said, declining to offer an excuse for his earlier distraction. "Name’s Jeralt, but we should save the introductions until after we’ve dealt with this lot." He pointed his lance towards where the bandits had retreated. “We’d be wise to press the advantage now before they regroup and attack again. If you’re ready?” At their round of nods, he continued. “Right then. You two,” he indicated Edelgard and Dimitri, “watch our flanks. You, brat with the bow, keep shooting as many arrows as your hands can manage; I don’t want those bandits to have any time to breathe.”

Dimitri and Edelgard acknowledged their instructions with a sharp “Understood,” while Claude gave a lazy salute and a drawled out “Can do!”

“And you,” Jeralt said, locking eyes with Byleth. He trailed off for a moment, seeming to get lost in thought again while he took in the sight of her. After a moment, he shook himself and continued. “Take point with me. You seem like you can handle yourself well enough. There’s one guy giving orders, probably the leader of this bunch. If we can take him out, the rest should scatter.” Byleth nodded and moved into position beside him as they advanced towards the enemy.

As they fought their way forward, Byleth started to realize why his fighting style had seemed so familiar to her. It brought back memories of when she first started learning how to use a weapon, and Alois had taught her how to handle a lance. The techniques the knight had shown her so long ago were incredibly similar to those that Jeralt now employed, except that the skill that Jeralt displayed was far above anything that Alois had been able to show her. He handled his spear like it was a part of his body as they tore through the enemy ranks. Still, now that Byleth was able to recognize his moves, she knew how to adapt to fight next to him. She knew how to cover for him when a particularly strong strike would leave him vulnerable, and trusted that he was quick enough to cover for her as well. As they adapted to each other, it began to feel like they were coordinating an intricate dance as they carved a path through the bandits, a dance in which she naturally flowed from step to step while trusting Jeralt to perform his own part.

It was the sort of fight that Byleth had always enjoyed, one in which she could lose herself completely to the weapon in her hand and the movements of her body as she did what she did best. But it was rare that she got to fight with an equally skilled partner by her side, and she found herself relishing the feeling of invincibility that she got from fighting back to back with Jeralt.

By the time they had cut a path to the bandit leader, Byleth almost wished it could have lasted longer.

The scruffy looking bandit leader gnashed his teeth as he faced Byleth’s group. “What the hell?” He growled. “This was supposed to be an easy job! Just killing some spoiled royal brats!”

“Sorry we couldn’t make it easy for you,” Claude replied with a grin, notching an arrow while his two fellow house leaders readied their own weapons.

“Shut it!” the bandit shot back, before jabbing a grubby accusatory finger towards Byleth and Jeralt. “If it wasn’t for you-” he stopped, his eyes widening in shock as he looked over the mercenary again. “YOU! I know you! You’re the Blade Breaker!” His jaw hung open in disbelief while he turned to Byleth. “And you, with the blank stare! Shit, you’re the Crimson Saint! The Church’s little killer with a face like a statue!” Byleth tensed and was peripherally aware of Jeralt fixing her with an appraising gaze at the mention of her unpleasant nickname, but she kept her focus on the bandit. “I didn’t sign up to deal with the likes of you! What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

Byleth lifted her sword. “I suggest praying,” she said in a disinterested monotone before lunging forward. The bandit leader tumbled to the ground after one slash across his chest.

She flicked her blade clean of blood and sheathed it while the remaining bandits fled, and then returned to Jeralt and the students. Before they could exchange words, a roar sounded from behind her. She whipped around to see the leader launching himself back onto his feet and charging at Edelgard in a fury, his axe raised high.

Something deep inside Byleth twisted as she spotted the shock that flashed through the young woman’s eyes while the bandit bore down on her. She didn’t think, she just moved, spurred on as adrenaline coursed through her.

She leaped in front of Edelgard and shoved her out of the way, her back towards the bandit. Byleth closed her eyes as she felt the rush of air from the axe as the man swung it down.

She kept her eyes closed tight, waiting for the agony of steel rending through her. She waited. And waited…

Byleth opened her eyes, confused at how long her death was taking. Edelgard was no longer in front of her. In fact, nothing was in front of her. There was nothing but darkness.

“Honestly!” cried out a shrill voice. Byleth inhaled sharply and turned to face a familiar girl on a familiar throne. The girl was glaring at Byleth, nose scrunched up in annoyance. “What are you accomplishing with that little stunt?! It’s like you’re trying to get me killed, you fool!”

Byleth stared as the girl let out a long-suffering sigh and spoke again in a calmer tone. “Well, it’s fine. After all, if you don’t know the value of your own life, you’re not going to protect it very well, are you? Course not.” She clapped her hands together lightly and stood up from the throne, a small smile playing at her lips. “Well, then. I guess it’s up to me to guide you from now on. Right?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “You can call me Sothis… but I’m also known as ‘The Beginning.’”

Byleth blinked. “…Sothis?”

Sothis nodded. “Yes, that is it! My name is Sothis. I could not recall it until just now, but then it just… came to me. How odd!”

Byleth blinked again. “…And you are certain that your name is Sothis?”

“Wh-” The girl stuttered indignantly. “What are you saying? Do you think me some child who does not even know her own name? Phooey! I will have you know I just saved your ungrateful life, and it’s hardly fitting for you to thank me by accusing me of forgetting my own name!”

Byleth held her palms up placatingly. “I am sorry. It is just strange that-”

The girl huffed. “And now you’re saying my name is strange? Really!? What was it that you said your name was when last we spoke? By-leth!” She exaggerated the syllables, dragging them out like the sounds were distasteful on her tongue. “A ridiculous mortal name for a ridiculous mortal woman! You have no grounds to be criticizing someone else!”

Byleth let her shoulders drop in resignation. “I apologize,” she said simply, deciding to let the matter go. There were probably stranger things in the world than a girl in a void claiming to have the same name as the Goddess of Fódlan. She wondered distantly if Rhea would consider it blasphemous, but it didn’t concern Byleth much. She had never been able to wrap her mind around the teachings of Seiros and had long since given up trying. She cared about the religion only in that she knew it meant the world to Rhea.

Sothis nodded, mollified. “Good. And now perhaps a little gratitude? Had I not stopped the flow of time, you would’ve met quite an unfortunate end just now!”

Byleth dipped into a bow, which seemed to please the girl.

“Excellent! Was that so difficult? Now then, what to do about our current situation?” She frowned. “Once time resumes, the axe will fall and you shall die. And I was well, by extension. It seems that I exist within you. I simply cannot allow myself to fall here!” She fixed Byleth with a piercing gaze. “And you? Are you prepared to die now?”

She thought again of Rhea. Of the woman’s warm smile when she looked upon Byleth, foggy memories of her voice when she used to sing her young ward to sleep, and of the things Rhea would sometimes whisper to her when they were alone. Vague whispers of a grand destiny she was certain Byleth would fulfill, of some great purpose that all of Rhea’s and Byleth’s efforts were working towards. Byleth didn’t know what that purpose was, but she knew she would make Rhea proud when the time came. And she knew she couldn’t die until that destiny was fulfilled.

Byleth shook her head.

“I thought not,” Sothis said. She raised a hand, and a magic circle appeared before her. “Fortunately for us, it seems that I have the power to not only stop the progress of time, but also to reverse its flow. I will send you back to before the bandit attacked that girl. Do try not to be as stupid this time around, hmm?”

((()))

Byleth had barely processed Sothis’s words when she blinked and found herself again in the field outside of Remire Village. A roar sounded behind her and she twisted to see the same scene playing out, the bandit leader launching back up to his feet and rushing an astonished Edelgard. Byleth was prepared this time. She dashed forward and drew her sword in one fluid motion, countering the bandit’s axe just in time and delivering her own powerful strike in retaliation. The bandit went down again and stayed down.

She nodded, satisfied with her work, and turned to face Edelgard. Edelgard stared back at her, her previous distrustful gaze replaced with one of open amazement, as if Byleth had been replaced with an entirely different person. Claude and Dimitri caught up to them then, expressing relief at finding their companion unhurt.

Jeralt approached her carefully. He was staring at her a little too intently for her liking. “Hey,” he said, tone urgent, “are you-”

“FEAR NOT, FOR THE KNIGHTS OF SEIROS ARE HERE!” a very familiar voice cried out.

Jeralt let out a colorful curse while Byleth turned to see Alois bursting into view, flanked by several knights. He ordered the knights to pursue the fleeing bandits and hustled over to join Byleth and the others.

“So, you found the missing students! I expected nothing less from you, my girl! And it looks like you had help, as well,” Alois said cheerfully. He glanced to the man standing beside her before turning his smiling face back to Byleth – and then did a double take, staring at Jeralt in absolute astonishment. “It can’t be… Captain Jeralt!?”

She stepped back, giving the two men space while Alois excitedly gushed over a bemused Jeralt. She scanned the field, searching for any more threats, only to have her eye caught by Claude, who was gesturing for her to join him with the other two house leaders. She dutifully walked over to them, hand on the pommel of her sword in readiness. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Indeed, we are fine now, thanks to you,” Dimitri replied, inclining his head. His voice took on a new edge of excitement as he continued. “That was incredible, by the way! The way you handled yourself was nothing less than captivating! It showed me that I still have far to go in my own training.”

“It seems that the rumors of your skills weren’t exaggerated,” Claude agreed, easy smile back on his face. “If I had known you could fight like that, I may have taken my chances with trying to find you instead of making a strategic retreat towards Remire. Especially considering these two followed me and brought the entire group of bandits on my tail!”

Dimitri turned a disapproving scowl to the other boy. “Retreating? And here I thought you were trying to bravely draw the bandits away from us.”

Claude’s undoubtedly cheeky reply was interrupted by Edelgard clearing her throat. The two fell silent while she fixed Byleth with an intense stare. “Your skill is undebatable, but what I find most impressive is your lack of hesitation in coming to another’s aid.” Her expression softened slightly as she placed a hand over her heart, speaking earnestly. “Truly, you have my gratitude for saving my life. I fear I have not treated you particularly kindly. It means much to me that you would rush to protect me despite that.”

Byleth blinked and found herself needing to resist the urge to fidget or look away from the girl’s sincere face. "It is nothing, I merely did what anyone would have done."

“I hate to interrupt this heart-to-heart,” Claude piped up, in a tone that was far from remorseful, “but it seems that our new dear friend is required elsewhere.” He nodded his head in the direction behind Byleth. She turned to see a beaming Alois urgently waving her over to where he stood with a deeply frowning Jeralt.

Upon approaching them, Byleth didn’t have time to get a word out before she was crushed against Alois’s side in a tight one-armed embrace. “The captain just told me how skillfully you protected the students against those vile bandits! You’ve made your Uncle Alois so proud!”

Jeralt quirked an eyebrow at him as he continued to squeeze a resigned Byleth. “Uncle? I don’t remember you having any family, Alois.”

“I do not know this man,” Byleth stated, hanging limply in his arm. Her quip earned her Alois's hand affectionately ruffling through her hair before he finally released her from the embrace. She regained her balance with a speed that spoke to years of receiving sudden bearhugs from the knight and dipped into a deep bow to Jeralt. “I thank you for defending the students under my protection, sir. I do not know what would have happened to them had you not acted as you did. It was an honor to fight beside you, and I owe you a great debt.”

The mercenary scratched at the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “Uh, there’s no need for that. Never been big on formality. How about you just give me your name and we call it even?”

Alois cut into the conversation with a sharp gasp. “Oh, Captain, that’s right! You never had the chance to meet our beloved Byleth, did you?”

Under his breath, Jeralt repeated “Byleth?” in a quiet, disbelieving voice. He stared at her as if he had forgotten that anything else existed. Byleth deeply wished to be anywhere in the world other than under that inscrutable, intense gaze.

Alois continued speaking cheerfully, apparently unaware of the change in mood. “She was born at the monastery just a couple of weeks after you disappeared, if memory serves right. Her mother didn’t survive childbirth, leaving her an orphan tragically, but would you believe it? The archbishop Rhea herself kindly stepped forward to adopt her as her own ward!” He paused, wanting to allow time for Jeralt to comment on this, but the man was still staring silently at Byleth, his mouth tightly pursed as gears turned in his head. Alois coughed and continued, “So anyway, Byleth grew up within the church, just as I did! Naturally, I helped-”

“Are you heading back?” Jeralt asked suddenly, snapping his focus back onto the knight.

Alois’s smile faltered in his confusion. “Huh?”

“To Garreg Mach. Are you returning now?”

“Oh! Well, not necessarily right this instant, but of course we-”

“I’m coming with you,” Jeralt said decisively. He turned without another glance at either of them and began rounding up his group of mercenaries, sending them to hasty preparations with concise orders. They moved quickly and without questions, apparently used to packing up and moving at a moment’s notice.

Byleth turned her head to observe a stunned Alois. He certainly seemed happy with the mercenary’s declaration but was barely able to believe it. “Well… Great! Yes, this is fantastic news indeed!” He declared to no one in particular. Suddenly remembering that Byleth was with him, he turned to her with a fresh grin. “Captain Jeralt is returning with us! Do you know what this means?”

She didn’t, but she had an uncomfortable feeling that it was going to involve her somehow.

~~~

“It’s strange, isn’t it?”

The question pulled Byleth out of her own thoughts. She turned her head away from watching Jeralt while he marched ahead of her, speaking with Alois and the other knights, and towards Claude, who had suddenly appeared at her side. His eyes were fixed on where hers had previously been. “I mean, the captain of the Knights of Seiros just disappears some 20 years ago, apparently becomes a famous mercenary, and then decides to return, just like that? Call me a conspiracist, but I have to believe something more complicated is going on here.”

Byleth hummed noncommittally. She wasn’t sure what to make of the man, but at least since they had started the march back to Garreg Mach, he hadn’t treated her to any more of his unnerving intense stares. In fact, she suspected he was making a conscientious effort not to look at her at all.

Claude turned to her, eyes shining with interest. “It’s quite the mystery. The kind that’s just begging to be solved. And say, he seemed pretty interested in you before, didn’t he? His sudden return wouldn’t have anything to do with you, now, would it?”

She said nothing. The thought had occurred to her, but since she couldn’t find a way that it would make sense, she had wanted to dismiss it. It made her uneasy that the connection had occurred to someone else, as if it gave the irrational idea more weight.

“Speaking of mysteries…” Claude trailed off for a moment, tapping his chin. Byleth was grateful for the subject change, until he spoke again. “You’re quite the mystery yourself, aren’t you?” She fixed him with a blank stare. He smiled innocently back at her, resting his hands behind his head in a relaxed motion. His stance would have made it seem as if he was just speaking off the top of his head without much concern for what he said, but Byleth could hear the attention behind his words. “I’m just saying, your history – and lack thereof for that matter – makes for quite a puzzle. There are plenty of orphans that end up in the care of Garreg Mach, right? So why is it that only you were personally adopted by the archbishop? There’s got to be a reason for that. Maybe you have a rare Crest, or your parents were important in some way. What do you know about them?”

“My parents? Nothing,” Byleth responded neutrally.

Claude’s eyebrows raised. “Wait, nothing? What about their names, at least? Surely Archbishop Rhea would tell you your mother’s name.”

“I never asked. I do not see how it would matter.”

Claude seemed genuinely surprised by her response. “Huh. I can’t imagine not being at least a little bit curious about who your parents were. Although…” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose there might be something kind of freeing about that. Not needing to worry about if your parents’ history will give you your own burdens to inherit.” Claude grew quiet for several seconds, before turning back to Byleth with a chastised expression. “Oh, uh, those questions were probably way too personal for right off the bat, weren’t they? Sorry about that. I get carried away sometimes.”

Byleth shook her head. “It is fine. It does not bother me.”

Claude’s smile returned at that. “Oh, yeah? That’s good to hear, I’d feel like a cad if I managed to upset you in one of our first real conversations.” He winked. “Plus, I don’t want you to get tired of me so soon. Hopefully we can get to know each other during my time at the monastery, yeah? I have to admit, you’ve piqued my interest. And who knows? Maybe between the two of us, we can figure out a bit more about you. Even if you don’t care, I can’t help but be curious.” Claude waved to her and then quickened his pace, catching up to Edelgard and Dimitri and leaving Byleth alone.

“That boy is certainly nosy, but he does make some interesting points,” Sothis said musingly.

Byleth’s body jolted in surprise and she looked around wildly for the girl.

A mischievous laugh echoed in her ears in response. “Don’t act so startled. You should know that I am always with you from now on. Now, focus! I understand that your memory is poor, but do you recognize that man at all?”

Her eyes focused again on Jeralt walking ahead of her. Not wanting to be caught speaking to herself, she shook her head slightly and trusted that Sothis could somehow see her.

Sothis hummed thoughtfully. “Well, he sure seemed to act as if he recognized you in some way. Although, you apparently have gained quite a reputation for yourself. Perhaps he knows you from that?... No, that explanation doesn’t sit well with me at all. For one, it hardly provides a reason as to why a man who desperately wished to escape the church and then created quite a name for himself as a mercenary would suddenly decide to give that up and return now, just seemingly on a whim after seeing your face and hearing your name. That boy was right, there must be something deeper to this.” She made a noise of frustration. “Ah, I hate not knowing what is going on here! Keep your eyes open, Byleth. We must… figure out... *Yawn* …what your place is… in this…”

Byleth felt Sothis slip back into slumber in her mind. Alone with her thoughts, she kept watch on Jeralt for the rest of the journey back to Garreg Mach.

~~~

In all of her 21 years of life, Byleth could never recall ever seeing her guardian truly distraught. Rhea’s calm and certain demeanor served as a constant guiding light within the church. It was therefore impossible to ignore her growing feeling that something was deeply wrong as she watched the archbishop while Alois cheerfully delivered his mission report. Rhea barely seemed to hear the knight as she stared at Jeralt with an expression of one looking down the precipice of a steep cliff with the fear that they may fall at any moment. Seteth, mindful as ever of the archbishop, had picked up on her tenseness and remained on edge as well, glaring distrustfully at the mercenary.

It seemed the only ones immune to the tense atmosphere were Alois, who was too enraptured with the return of his mentor to take notice, and Jeralt himself, who returned Rhea’s gaze steadily and without apparent concern. He had at no point during the meeting so much as spared a glance towards Byleth’s direction, which somehow only served to make her even more suspicious. Her fingers itched to wrap around the hilt of her sword, but she forced her hand to remain still by her side.

There was a lull in Alois’s report as he paused to catch his breath, and Rhea took advantage to cut in. “Jeralt,” she said, keeping her voice even with effort. “It is of course wonderful to see you again after all these long years, but I must ask, why have you chosen now to return?” Her eyes flicked over to Byleth before returning to boring into the mercenary.

Jeralt shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve been away long enough. There’s been a rise in bandit activity lately, and I’d be doing more good leading the Knights of Seiros again than working as a mercenary in remote villages.”

Alois laughed in excitement. “That’s wonderful, Captain! The Knights haven’t been quite the same without you, we would surely welcome your expertise again!” He turned his beaming face towards the archbishop. “And Lady Rhea, I can tell you for a fact that our Captain Jeralt hasn’t grown rusty in the last couple of decades. His skill in defending the students from that bandit attack speaks to that! And I daresay even our miss Byleth was impressed after fighting side by side with him. Isn’t that right, lass?”

All eyes in the room turned to her, except for Jeralt, who remained focused on Rhea. Despite the strangeness in the circumstances, she had to admit that he was one of the most skilled fighters she had ever seen. She nodded once to Rhea in agreement.

Rhea did not look particularly pleased by the endorsement, but she seemed slightly less on edge after Jeralt had given his reason for coming back. She hesitated, looking from each person in the room, but the choice seemed clear. “Well… of course, the Knights of Seiros would be enriched by your return, if you-”

“Great, then it’s settled. I’ll go set up my old quarters,” Jeralt said. He turned on his heel and headed out of the audience chamber. Alois hurried after him with an excited offer of help.

Rhea stared at the door long after it had closed behind them, seeming deeply unsettled. Beside her, Seteth cleared his throat. “I hardly consider that individual trustworthy, if he truly abandoned his post before without a word to anyone. I will be keeping a close eye on him in the following weeks.”

Rhea seemed slightly startled, as if she had forgotten her advisor was there. “Ah. Yes, I suppose it would be wise to keep an observation of him, though I doubt he will harm anyone here.” She managed a small smile as she turned to Byleth. “And as for you, my dear child, I am most pleased with how you handled yourself. It brings me great joy to know how dedicated you were in protecting the students under your care.”

Byleth nodded in acknowledgement. She was not expecting the archbishop’s next words. “That is why I am sure I have made the right decision in this. I am appointing you as Garreg Mach’s newest professor.”

Seteth drew in a sharp breath, staring at Rhea with widened eyes. “Rhea, are you certain about this? Of course her skill is not in question, but she is still quite young. Perhaps it would be best to continue her own lessons for a few more years, or have her assist one of our current professors to gain appreciation for the role…”

Byleth couldn't help but internally agree with him, but Rhea shook her head gently. “My mind is made up on this, Seteth. I have faith in her, and I believe the future leaders of Fódlan currently enrolled in our esteemed academy would have much to gain from her guidance.” She turned her smile to Byleth and spoke to her. “Of course, you must pick one to lead in particular. As you know, we have three houses, and you will choose one to instruct. Edelgard leads the Empire’s house, the Black Eagles, Dimitri is in charge of the Blue Lions of the Kingdom, and finally, there is the Alliance’s Golden Deer house, led by Claude…”

At that name, Byleth thought of the boy’s words to her during the march. Hopefully we can get to know each other during my time at the monastery, yeah? I have to admit, you’ve piqued my interest. And who knows? Maybe between the two of us, we can figure out a bit more about you...

“I know there is much to consider in this choice. You should meet with the students of the various houses and familiarize yourself with their strengths and differences before coming to any conclusion-”

“The Golden Deer,” Byleth said. Rhea and Seteth stared at her, their eyebrows raised in surprise. She couldn’t blame them; she had surprised herself with her own sudden declaration. Still, she remained expressionless as she spoke. “I have chosen. I will lead the Golden Deer house.”

Seteth looked like he wanted to protest, but Rhea simply laughed gently. “Well, it seems your heart has already settled on a choice then! I will inform the other professors, and they can choose which of the other two houses to lead. Why don’t you take some time to introduce yourself to your new students?”

~~~

It didn’t take long before Byleth came across Claude. While she was on her way to inspect the Golden Deer classroom, she spotted him just outside of the class’s door, lounging against the wall. There should not have been a way for the news of her new appointment to reach him already, but apparently the boy had his sources. When he caught sight of her, his face split into a knowing grin. “Well, well, Teach. I gotta say. You, me, the Golden Deer? I think we’re going to be great together.”

Chapter Text

Byleth had never been one to flinch at chaos. And in her missions with the Knights of Seiros, she had seen plenty of it. On the battlefield, when everything had fallen apart, when she had the span of a breath to distinguish someone as ally or foe, as someone in need of aide or someone that would run a blade through her if given the slightest opportunity by her hesitation, she had never once wavered.

But, as it turned out, being in a room with eight rowdy students all attempting to speak to her and to each other at once was enough to give her pause.

Byleth was still working on committing the names of her new charges to memory during their informal introduction session when they had begun pelting her with questions.

“I understand that you are the archbishop’s ward and you have gone out on missions with the knights, but what actual teaching qualifications do you have?” asked the white-haired young girl, Lysithea, as she looked over Byleth with a critical eye.

“I-” said Byleth.

A taller girl cut her off, clicking her tongue dismissively. “Don’t be rude. I’m sure she wouldn’t have been appointed as our professor if she couldn’t handle it. Plus, I bet she has loads to teach us after working with the knights for so long.” Her eyes lit up suddenly as she addressed Byleth. “Say, is it true that you fought beside Captain Jeralt? I heard you were with the group that found him and brought him back to Garreg Mach. That’s amazing! What was it like getting to fight with him?”

“It-”

“Wait, uh, Leonie?” A boy with a frame so large his uniform shirt was straining against his chest looked at the girl questioningly. “…Who’s this Captain Jeralt again?”

Leonie stared back at him disbelievingly. “Seriously, Raphael? He’s only the most renowned and talented captain to ever lead the Knights of Seiros! Tell him, Professor!” She did not actually give Byleth time to tell him before Leonie had pounded a fist against her chest, a spark of pride in her eyes. “And I just so happen to be his greatest apprentice! He was only working in my village for a short time, but he taught me so much!”

A short boy with soft green hair and round glasses nervously cleared his throat. “Oh, um, I don’t really have any combat experience myself… I mean, I’ve practiced with a bow a little bit, but I’m just from a merchant family.” Sounding sincerely concerned, he continued, “I’m sorry, I hope that won’t be too much of a problem for you, Professor…”

“That-” Byleth managed, before Hilda, a girl with long pink ponytails, cut her off.

“Oh Ignatz, that’s definitely no good. You’re going to need to work pretty hard to catch up to everyone!” At his stricken expression, she lit up with a sweet smile. “But don’t worry, I’m sure I can find things for you to help me out with that will get you in shape! Yeah, maybe some heavylifting, taking over my Saturday chores, stuff that will really help you out! I care about my classmates, you know.” She turned her charming smile onto the girl standing beside her. “Isn’t that right, Marianne?”

Marianne, a timid blue-haired girl that looked like she desperately wished she was currently sinking into the floorboards, almost jumped out of her skin at being addressed. “What!? Oh… yes, I suppose that’s right…”

Byleth leveled a stare at Hilda. “Do not-”

“Why, Hilda,” interrupted a slender boy with a rose in his lapel, “if you need assistance, I am happy to oblige! We nobles must look after each other, after all.”

An unreadable expression flickered across Hilda’s face for a split second and then was gone, replaced with a beaming grin. “That’s so sweet of you, Lorenz! I’ll definitely come to you if I need anything done!”

Byleth didn’t actually manage a word out this time before Claude finally spoke up, his easy smile back on his face and a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Alright, alright, I think that’s enough for now. How about we give our new professor a chance to breathe?” He winked at her as his fellow students grew silent. “Sorry about that, Teach. As you can see, the Golden Deer isn’t exactly a unified bunch. But hey, that’s just half of our charm, right?” Claude lifted one eyebrow. “So, Teach, any inspiring words for your dear students?”

Eight pairs of eyes focused on her expectantly (or seven, really; Marianne seemed unable to look at her face and was instead staring at her feet). Byleth met each excited gaze in turn as she searched for her words.

“I will see you all here when class starts,” Byleth stated, and then promptly turned on her heel and left the room.

Byleth was respected and feared as a force of destruction on the field of battle. In whispered tones, she was called the living embodiment of divine retribution, the Crimson Saint, a being so merciless and sure in purpose that her face remained perfectly still no matter how much blood she spilled in service to the Church of Seiros.

And right now, she was definitely, absolutely, unquestionably not fleeing from a room full of children that she had no idea how to talk to.

When Byleth had headed out in her not-escape, she had just let her feet lead her by habit without caring much for the direction. Before long, she found herself on the bridge between the main grounds and the vast cathedral, resting her arms against the short stone railing as she gazed out into the deep ravine below.

She had not long been alone with her thoughts when she heard an excited cry of “Professor Byleth!!” She turned to the familiar voice calling out an unfamiliar title to see Flayn sprinting towards her from the end of the bridge. There was one wild moment as the girl grew closer that Byleth thought she would launch herself at her in a tackling hug, but Flayn came to a sudden stop just short of her, eyes alight with joy. “My brother just informed me of your new teaching position. Oh, that is so exciting! I am certain that you will be just absolutely perfect as a professor.”

A small speck of something red moved within Flayn’s green curls, catching Byleth’s eye. She reached out without thinking to gently pry the bug out from the girl’s hair. Flayn went still, face softly confused as a hand tugged through her strands, but her smile returned along with a small giggle as Byleth held aloft the newly untangled bug on her fingers for Flayn’s inspection. “Ah, a ladybug! It is lovely. How did it end up there, I wonder? Well, it is free now! Thank you.”

They both watched as the ladybug explored Byleth’s hand for a moment before it lifted the protective shell on its back and spread out its wings to take flight. It quickly became a tiny speck amongst the sky. Flayn watched it until it was too far away to see, and when she at last shifted her gaze back to Byleth, her smile had turned slightly sad. “I must admit,” she said, voice quieter than before, “I envy you a little bit. You will be a part of the life at the academy now, and have the chance to make friends and create memories with the students here. I wish I could be among them, as well.”

Although Byleth’s face remained blank, something in her chest tightened at hearing the forlorn tone in Flayn’s voice. “Perhaps Seteth will allow you to enroll soon,” Byleth said, hoping to raise the girl’s spirits back up. “You are about the same age as the students here, correct?” It occurred to her suddenly that she had no idea what Flayn’s age was. She certainly seemed young, but occasionally she said something that contained more wisdom than one would expect from her supposed youth.

For some reason, the question made Flayn chuckle. Instead of answering however, she addressed Byleth’s first statement. “I do hope so, but Brother is still… very concerned for my safety. It is hard to imagine that he will relent anytime soon.” Byleth had to admit that was a fair assessment. When it came to his little sister, “overprotective” would be an understatement for Seteth. Flayn waved a hand as though to brush away her gloomy thoughts and smiled genuinely once again at Byleth. “Well, in the meantime, you can tell me what it is like! Oh, you will share stories of your days with me,” she paused, looking around to ensure that they were alone on the bridge, and leaned in with a conspiratorial grin, “won’t you, Cousin?”

There it was, the familial nickname that Flayn sometimes employed when the two of them were alone. Even if she had been inclined to refuse the request, that one word would always ensure Byleth going along with whatever the girl asked of her. “Of course, but I do not think anything I will have to share will be as interesting as you are hoping. My job is to teach the students, not to make friends with them.”

Even with the warning, the answer clearly delighted Flayn. Her face lit up once more and she settled into a spot beside Byleth on the bridge to gaze out at the view with her. The two were content to stay like that for a time in companionable silence.

Later that evening, Byleth was halfway through her practice session with her training axe when she heard a crisp knock at her door. She set the axe back in its place on her weapon rack, wiped some of the sweat off her face into the crook of her elbow, and crossed her room to open the door and reveal Cyril standing on the other side.

While it couldn’t be said that the two of them were close, being that neither was particularly sociable and they were both generally too wrapped up in their respective duties to stop and chat anyway, Byleth and Cyril had long since developed an understanding and trust in each other. Their lives both revolved around the same guiding light, two insignificant planets in devoted orbit around a blazing, blinding star. They knew they could depend on each other to always act in the best interest of Archbishop Rhea. Though ultimately, their interactions mostly consisted of an intricate but comfortable dance of doing small chores to help the other while staying out of each other’s way.

Cyril held out an old book in a weathered red binding. “Heya, Byleth,” he greeted in an easy voice. “I ran into the new captain just now and he asked me to deliver this to ya. Said it might come in handy with planning out lessons for the brats. Er, his words, not mine.”

She took the book from him and examined it. It was an ancient looking tactics primer, with a broken spine and several missing corners from its pages due to a long lifetime of service. She carefully opened it and thumbed through its chapters, noting with interest that it was indeed a tome that she had never seen within Garreg Mach’s vast library.

Cyril nodded to her and turned to head off, in a hurry to get back to his work, when Byleth had a thought and quietly called out, “Cyril.” The boy stopped in his tracks and looked back at her questioningly. “What is your impression of him?” she asked.

He blinked, surprised. “The captain, you mean? Hmm…” He tilted his head and rested his chin in one hand, deep in thought. “Well, to tell ya the truth, I haven’t really seen enough of him yet to have much of an impression. The rest of the knights sure seem to like him, though.” His expression hardened. “But Lady Rhea seems real uncomfortable with him, and I don’t trust anyone that would make such a kind and honest person wary. I’m keeping my eyes on him.”

Byleth nodded once. “Okay. Tell me if you notice anything.”

He gave her a tight smile. “You got it. If that’s all, I gotta go make sure the horses have all been fed.” He waved and was off at a brisk pace, and Byleth felt some tension she didn’t realize she had within her lighten. She trusted Cyril, and had noticed the boy was unusually perceptive and intuitive. If Captain Jeralt did anything suspicious while in the monastery, Cyril was sure to catch it and alert her.

She withdrew back into her chambers and left the tactics primer atop her bookshelf, planning to look through it later, and resumed her training routine.

~~~

Byleth stared down at the papers on her desk and tried to ignore the eyes she felt on her as she stood at the front of the classroom, wearing a black evening gown with gold embroidery and dark navy tights for the occasion. She had spent the last few days looking through notes she had taken during her own lessons and thumbing through her collection of books, including Captain Jeralt’s gifted tactics primer once or twice, and mentally preparing the lecture she would give on her first day teaching as a professor. Now that the day had come and she found herself before her Golden Deer students, nothing that she had wanted to say seemed quite right.

She did glance up then, observing her students as they expectantly waited for her to begin. How should she begin? There was so much to cover and no clear starting point, and she had no idea what the students before her knew and didn’t know. Maybe this would be clearer for her if she had an idea of their skill level.

That at least gave her an idea. Her eyes swept over the assembled teens once, and then she briskly announced, “Training grounds.” She walked past the desks and out the door, hearing a confused scrambling behind her as the students processed her two words and rushed to follow her.

Halfway to the training area, Lysithea managed to catch up to her, short legs moving quickly to match her pace. “Excuse me, Professor, but this seems highly unusual. Shouldn’t we receive some instruction before we do anything at the training grounds?”

Byleth didn’t slow down or meet the gaze of the girl at her side. “Assessing where you all are at in your abilities will help inform future instruction.”

“I… see. I suppose that makes sense,” Lysithea responded uncertainly. She fell silent and allowed for Byleth to pull ahead as they continued onwards.

Once Byleth had her students properly assembled within the training grounds, she let her gaze sweep over each of them again before she spoke. “I would like to observe how skilled each of you is with your weapon of choice. This can be demonstrated however you prefer; against a dummy target, in a practice match with each other, or you can spar directly with me if you so desire.”

She did not miss how Claude’s eyes lit up at that last suggestion. She wondered if that meant he was interested in a match with her, but instead the boy affected a look of concern. “Gee, I dunno about that, Teach,” he said, voice dripping with worry. “I’ve seen you in action with my own two eyes, and I don’t know if anyone here could hope to keep up. Someone would have to be very well-trained and skilled to be able to take you on. I know I certainly couldn’t.”

Lorenz suddenly cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Well, Claude, just because you may be hopeless does not mean the rest of us are. I will gladly demonstrate the abilities of a properly trained noble.” He nodded haughtily to his professor. “Will you accept me as your first opponent? I am sure my fellow classmates could learn much from it.”

“Well, I didn’t see that coming!” Claude called out, his worry dissipating into thin air and his smile back in place. “Good luck, Lorenz.” Hilda, who was standing next to Claude, turned to him with a suddenly appraising look before facing forward to watch the match.

Byleth’s reply was interrupted by a sound at the entrance that caught her attention. A small group of knights was shuffling in, jostling each other and cracking jokes companionably. She noted that Jeralt was with them, his face a mask of a faintly bemused Captain that was nonetheless going along with his subordinates’ antics. They took up position against the wall opposite from the class, and one of them waved cheerfully to the students. “Don’t mind us! We just heard that our favorite newly-appointed professor was leading some ducklings to the training grounds and we wanted to come watch the show.”

Byleth ignored them and turned back to Lorenz. If he was concerned about the new audience, he wasn’t showing it. If anything, he seemed all the more eager now that more eyes were on him. “Very well,” she stated. “Please pick your weapon of choice and we can begin.”

The boy sauntered over to a weapon rack, chose two lances, and returned, handing one over to his professor. Byleth tested the weight and feel of the weapon in her hands as Lorenz took up position a few yards away and faced her. He slid into a well-practiced stance and said, “I have been trained in the noble art of wielding a lance since I was a child. So I implore you, Professor, do not hold back against me.” Behind him, Claude’s eyes practically shone with anticipation.

Byleth blinked and slid into her own combat stance. “Very well, if you insist. When you are ready, we will begin.”

Lorenz swept his lance forward with an impressive but entirely unnecessary flourish and wasted no time in charging forward, rushing at Byleth with the spearhead aimed for her.

She waited, staying in her stance until the last second before he would have been on her. Then she brought her own lance up hard, knocking Lorenz’s weapon well off course. She kept the motion of her spear going and turned it into a quick flip, using the unbladed end to jab roughly into his stomach. His breath left him in an agonized rush, and Byleth finished with a sweep of her leg that knocked Lorenz off his feet and sent him careening backwards. In a moment of panic, he thrust his elbows back to catch himself, but made a sound of pain as they crashed against the ground.

Several of the gathered knights whooped or jeered, though Jeralt’s face remained still as he watched Byleth intently. The watching students had expressions ranging from being impressed to being worried, except Claude who looked as pleased with himself as if he had been the one that had thrown the noble on his back. From the ground, Lorenz winced and stared up at her with eyes wide from shock.

Byleth gazed back down at Lorenz with her face as blank as ever. “You should not throw your elbows out that far when falling backwards. Have you not been taught the best ways to protect your body when getting knocked down?”

Lorenz’s shock was at once replaced with indignity, which was hardly helped by the raucous knights. “What I have been taught,” he shot back, in a tone far removed from his usual airy confidence, “is how to have a proper duel. That was hardly a fair maneuver!”

She considered him for a moment. “Playing by rules of aristocratic duels will get you killed on a battlefield. I would hope that that is not what you are here to learn.”

He paled a little at that and looked like he still wanted to argue, but before he could form his words, Byleth had kneeled down next to him, holding her palm out to his bruised elbows. A small magic circle shimmered into existence between them as she casted a weak heal spell. “Here. This will help alleviate the pain, but you should still pay a visit to Professor Manuela in the infirmary. I am afraid that my healing magic is passable at best.” She paused, and then added, “Though I can cast a potent enough Nosferatu spell that your children’s children will have their vitality sucked dry.”

Lorenz suddenly leaned away from her hand with a terrified expression.

She blinked. “…That was a joke.”

The boy’s mouth pursed into a thin line. “Generally, when one makes a joke, they smile, or at least make some change in expression.”

“I see,” Byleth stated, her face remaining still.

“Say, Professor, how about a demonstration match?” Byleth looked up to see Jeralt striding forward with a lance in his hands. Behind him the knights looked on, not hiding their eagerness to watch their old protégé facing off against their new captain. Lorenz shuffled back to his fellow students, who had all grown expectantly quiet. Jeralt continued, “You know, to show the kids here what two more experienced fighters can do against each other.”

She hesitated for just a moment, and then slipped back into her combat stance, agreeing with a nod. She might not entirely trust the new captain yet, but she couldn’t resist the temptation of a real challenge. Some part of her had wanted to try sparring with him ever since they had worked together on the battlefield to protect the house leaders. Besides, she would know she could worry less about the strange man if she knocked him on his ass here and now.

Nothing else needed to be said, which Byleth appreciated. Standing opposite of her, Captain Jeralt readied his own weapon and began circling around her. Not wanting to provide an opening, she started circling as well, eyes focused on her opponent with hawk-like intensity.

Byleth made the first move this time, dashing forward to test his guard with a swift strike at his right side. Jeralt caught her spear with his own with impressive speed, and she danced back out of reach before he could deliver a counter. She continued to circle around him, and rushed him again to try a blow at his legs. He dodged back this time and she chased forward, following up with several quick jabs that were all deflected as well. This was far from discouraging for Byleth; she had been hoping for a challenging sparring partner in Jeralt, and with how the match was starting, it seemed that he would not disappoint.

But as the sparring match went on, Byleth could tell the captain was holding back. When she had fought beside him to drive off the bandits outside of Remire, his style had been brutal, aggressive, and undeniably effective. Now, though, he was staying mostly on the defensive, eyes critically watching her movements as she moved around him and delivered her strikes, which he deflected with apparent ease. When he did strike back, his blows were experimental, testing to see how she would react rather than genuinely trying to get through her guard. She realized after the fourth such careful jab from Jeralt that he wasn’t fighting to win, but rather was sizing her up. With a slight shock, she also realized that she hated that.

She wasn’t really sure why that was. Maybe it was from disappointment in hoping for a real, thrilling match, or annoyance that this strange man that she couldn’t figure out was analyzing her so closely even in battle, or maybe it was that it felt almost condescending, the way he was just testing her instead of really committing himself to the sparring session.

All she knew for sure was that when she delivered her next strike, she did so with real intent behind it, as if this was a fight that her life depended on. Jeralt managed to catch the blow again with his spear, but the effort behind it forced a huff of breath out of him. Byleth didn’t relent. She ceased dancing around and being cautious, and instead her world focused down on delivering deadly blow after blow. Her teeth gritted together, and she could feel her own pulse in her fingertips where they gripped onto her weapon as she pressed the assault.

Jeralt was still managing to deflect her attacks, but now it was far from effortless. She didn’t leave him the option of carefully analyzing her now; if he failed to stop one of her blows, he would suffer for it and he knew it.

A sudden spark in Jeralt’s eyes and a tensing of his muscles were the only warning Byleth had. She leapt backwards with her lance held out horizontally, just in time before the captain rose his weapon above his head and brought it down with every ounce of strength he had. Byleth realized it had been a mistake to try to catch his blow even before their weapons connected and the sound of splitting wood filled the arena.

The gathered knights hollered and several students gasped as Byleth blinked, staring at the two pieces of ruined lance in her stinging hands before letting them drop uselessly to the ground. Blade Breaker, indeed, she thought, raising her gaze to the man before her.

Jeralt planted the shaft of his own training spear into the ground so he could lean against it, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow and a small pleased grin appearing on his lips. “Good match. Not bad at all, kiddo,” he said.

Later, when Byleth thinks back on this moment, she will decide that that “kiddo” is what did it for her.

Jeralt opened his mouth to say something else, but instead only managed a surprised grunt as her fist connected with the side of his jaw.

Byleth was only distantly aware of the horrified noise that escaped Leonie’s throat, and the increase in tempo from the shouting knights. There was blood on her knuckles. She wasn’t sure if it belonged to the captain or if she had cut the skin of her hand open with her hard punch, and she didn’t particularly care. “I am not finished yet, old man,” she said, raising her fists in a brawling position. She was grateful that her voice remained toneless despite the heat flushing through her body.

Jeralt rubbed thoughtfully at his jaw, turning his head slightly to the side to spit out a glob of blood while keeping his eyes on her. Face unreadable, he nodded once and readied his weapon to continue.

“I believe that is quite enough demonstration for one day,” stated a new, clear voice.

The knights, who had just been cheering and shouting wildly, immediately fell silent and straightened to stand at attention as Seteth stepped forward. Jeralt wiped away the blood at his chin with the back of a hand and turned his face away from the advisor, hiding an expression that had suddenly grown bitter with resentment. Byleth dropped her combat stance and met Seteth’s gaze, ignoring the sudden whispers that had broken out among her students.

Seteth appeared exceptionally calm, which Byleth knew meant he certainly wasn’t but was trying very hard to be. “Captain Jeralt,” he said, “would you please escort the knights under your command back to their actual duties?” There was the barest emphasis on the word actual, but other than that his tone was carefully neutral.

Jeralt didn’t reply, just turned on his heel and left the training grounds with a gesture for the assembled knights to follow him. They did so rather sheepishly, most of them keeping their eyes forward but one or two sending what may have been an apologetic look towards Byleth.

Seteth then addressed the Golden Deer, who became surprisingly quiet under his stare. “Take your lunch break early today, and will one of you escort your injured classmate to the infirmary? There is something I need to discuss with your professor. Please take the time between now and your next class to reflect on the combat instruction you have received today.” They filed out in silence, Leonie stepping beside a chagrined Lorenz to take him to see Professor Manuela.

In the silence that followed as the two were left alone, Byleth and Seteth stared at each other without a word, both of their faces blank. It was Seteth that finally turned away and started to leave the training grounds, still not speaking. Byleth walked behind him, not needing instruction to know that he wanted her to follow him.

They continued to not talk as Seteth led the way through the halls of Garreg Mach, up the stairs to the faculty rooms, and finally to his own office. He held the door open for her to head inside and then followed her in, closing the door quietly behind himself. They stood for a moment, regarding each other in silence as they had in the training grounds, before Seteth at last broke the quiet by allowing himself a sigh. “There is more to teaching your students than beating them up and scaring them, Byleth,” he admonished, his voice carrying the slightest hint of amusement despite himself. “I know that you always took to your combat lessons more than your other studies, but do keep in mind that those children are here to learn more than just how to swing a weapon. Perhaps you should be a little more… gentle, with them.”

Byleth nodded, more in acknowledgement of the advice than in agreement. Seteth walked around his desk to sink into his chair and indicated for her to also take a seat. She chose the chair across from his desk and met his gaze steadily.

“It is perfectly understandable if you are having difficulties adjusting to your new appointment,” he said, expression softening. “Teaching is quite different from anything else that you have been assigned to do over the years. If the archbishop had alerted me to her plans of appointing you as a professor ahead of time, I would have been able to better help prepare you.” His tone was just a little bitter at that, which was unusual for him in speaking of Rhea. “Regardless, know that you can come to me anytime if you are ever in need of assistance or guidance. I am certain that Professors Hanneman and Manuela would also be delighted to do anything in their power to help you.”

She nodded again, and he paused for a moment before continuing, growing more serious. “Now that we have that covered, I have to ask. What exactly was that in the training grounds today?”

Byleth didn’t miss a beat. “A demonstration sparring match.”

Seteth pinched the bridge of his nose. “’A demonstration sparring…’ Byleth, please. You know what I mean. While I know that you are often, well, shall we say exuberant in your training matches with the Knights of Seiros, what I witnessed today in your battle with Captain Jeralt was something else entirely.” He leaned forward in his seat, gaze growing intense. “Has he done or said anything to upset you? I will make sure that he-”

She shook her head. “He has done nothing wrong. It was my fault. I got carried away.”

He grew quiet for a moment and searched her face. He sighed when, as always, he found nothing there that would give him any insight to her thoughts. “I was simply worried. I was not meaning to imply that there was fault in this. I understand that sometimes in a practice match, tempers can flare or someone can grow angry.”

Angry, Byleth thought, turning the word over in her head a few times. She thought of the pounding in her temples and the quickening of her pulse when she had grown frustrated with the captain’s antics. Was that anger? That sounded like it may be right.

Seteth had paused to allow for her to speak her piece, but when she remained quiet, he relaxed back into his chair. “Well, that is all that I wanted to say. Please keep my advice in mind, and know that my door is always open for you if you need anything.”

Byleth inclined her head and then swept from his office without another word.

~~~

Rhea took her first sip of the tea Byleth had poured for her and her smile brightened in genuine appreciation. Byleth allowed her gaze to drop back to her own teacup, raising it to take a sip as well. She always watched first to make sure that Rhea’s tea was satisfactory before she drank her own, even though she prepared it exactly the same way each time the two of them had tea together in Byleth’s room. It was a blend of Seiros tea, sweetened with half a sugar cube and with just a touch of honey, just enough to help alleviate the bitterness of the drink, and served scalding hot. Byleth had learned by now that the hotter she could get the drink, the more it seemed to relax Rhea as she drank it. At this temperature, the tea always burned Byleth’s tongue a little, but that was certainly worth it to see the tension washed away from Rhea.

The two women were content to sip in comfortable silence for the first few minutes. It felt almost ritualistic at this point to let that time slip by quietly as both allowed themselves to relax in each other’s company.

Usually it would be Rhea that spoke first, voice as warm and calming as the tea settling in Byleth’s stomach. Today, Byleth added an extra cube of sugar to her own drink and as she stirred it in with a spoon, she slowly brought herself to say, “I believe there may have been a mistake.”

Rhea glanced up, smile entirely undeterred as she raised an eyebrow at her ward. “Oh? I disagree; I believe this was brewed to perfection.”

Byleth pressed on, ignoring the archbishop’s small joke. “I mean with me. My appointment. I believe my performance on missions with the Knights of Seiros was quite a bit better than my performance as a professor.”

Rhea chuckled slightly, as if Byleth had said something amusing. “I see. Seteth did mention to me that your first day did not go so well, although he declined to go into detail. But my child, even you cannot hope to be perfect at everything you do the first time you do it. Have patience. I know that you will not disappoint. I promise you, one day you will be far greater than you are even now.”

Byleth was not sure how to respond to that, so she turned her attention back to her tea. The rest of their time together passed with relatively little chatter before Rhea finished her last sip and warmly wished her ward a good night.

Shortly after the archbishop’s departure, a knock came at Byleth’s door. She opened it to find one of the Knights of Seiros. She vaguely recognized her as a respected Pegasus Knight that had been in the order for decades now, and was one of the few allowed on the third floor of Garreg Mach.

The knight inclined her head in greeting and held out her hands. She was holding a long box with a note balanced on top of it. “Captain asked me to deliver this,” she said shortly. Byleth blinked and hesitated for a moment before reaching out to take the package. The moment it was taken from her, the knight bowed from the waist up and left briskly.

Byleth carried the bundle over to her desk and set the box aside to examine the note first. The handwriting was precise and elegant, which hardly seemed to fit the man that had written it. She sat down in her chair and began to read.

Hey,
Figured you could get some use out of this if you happen to make a habit of punching the hard parts of people’s bodies. I believe they should fit just fine, but if not, send word along with any knight on to me. Hope you find it useful.

Yours with honor,
Jeralt Reus Eisner
Captain of the Holy Order of the Knights of Seiros

P.S. Sorry if I got you in trouble with Lady Rhea’s advisor. You know, the one whose face always looks like he suspects that someone in the room has dogshit on their shoes. You can punch me again anytime to make up for it.

It was certainly one of the stranger letters she had received. The formality of his sign-off made for an absurd contrast with the casual tone of the rest of the note, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the post-script looked to be written in a different ink than the rest of it, as if it really had been an afterthought or perhaps he had debated for quite a while before deciding to include it. All in all, the note gave her the impression that Jeralt didn’t quite know how he wanted to talk to her, and that it was something he was worried about. Though the mystery remained as to why that was.

She turned her attention to the box. It was plain, unwrapped and undecorated. Not sure what to expect, Byleth lifted the lid and pulled out two protective armguards from within. She turned them over a couple of times, considering them, before carefully strapping one on to her left arm. Byleth flexed her fingers and twisted around her wrist, finding that the armor was flexible enough to not hinder her movements. She raised and lowered her arm a few times, and then rapped the knuckles of her right hand against the metal. It was clearly well made, strong enough to provide ample protection to her arms and hands while not so heavy that it would impede her strength.

Satisfied with her initial examination, she strapped the right armguard on as well and rose from her chair to experimentally throw a few punches. She was a little reluctant to admit it, but the captain had indeed done well with picking these out. They felt right on her arms and the fit was excellent, so much so that she had to wonder just how well the man had managed to size her up in their match.

Byleth lightly bashed her two fists together, enjoying the sound of the metal armguards crashing against each other. She doubted that they would exactly compliment her somewhat formal gown, but as long as they empowered her to punch any aggravating captains in the future, she would certainly not mind.

Chapter Text

Byleth dodged to the side to avoid the punch aimed for her and then swooped forward to deliver her own strikes, only to dance back out of range when the other woman managed to deflect her blows. Catherine brought her fists back up and bounced in place as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, keeping herself ready for Byleth’s next attempt to get through her guard.

The steady, rhythmic sound of steel sliding against steel echoed through the training grounds while Shamir sat on a bench and watched them, sharpening her knife against a whetstone. On the seat beside her, a small but impressive collection of daggers were laid out, their newly sharpened edges reflecting the light in the room.

The two women circling in the center of the room suddenly dashed at each other again nearly simultaneously. The noise of a sharpening dagger was soon joined by heavy thuds as their blows rained on each other, heavy and with force despite it being a practice match.

When they came apart again, Catherine laughed joyfully. “Alright, alright, that’s enough for now! If we keep going, I don’t think either of us is going to be in any shape to get our work done today.”

Byleth nodded in agreement and stretched her arms to the sky, working out the tenseness in her muscles from the sparring session.

Catherine rubbed at a tender spot on her upper arm where Byleth had landed a particularly heavy blow. “Man, that was a great match. You were holding back even less than usual! I suppose those kids of yours don’t give you enough of a workout, huh?”

The question made her realize that she was standing right above the spot where she had knocked Lorenz on his back yesterday. She glanced down at the hard stone he had roughly hit his elbows against, and unbidden the pained noise he had made played through her head. The corner of her mouth twitched imperceptivity, much too slight for either woman with her to have noticed.

Shamir carefully ran a finger along her dagger’s blade, testing its new edge. “It can be frustrating working with untrained recruits. You’ve never been one to let any emotions get the better of you, but it might take care not to take out that frustration on them.”

Byleth came out of her stretch and walked over to a barrel in the corner of the room that was filled with rainwater. She splashed the cool water against her face and washed off what skin she could reach. “Everyone starts somewhere. If I were to get upset with them, that would only indicate my own shortcomings as a professor.”

Shamir hummed at that, twirling her finished dagger in deft fingers before setting it aside with its fellows. “Well, if you ever do end up getting annoyed and killing one of the students, let me know. I can help you hide the body.”

Byleth didn’t look up as she responded, “Thank you, but that should not be necessary. I already have several places in mind to dispose of one if need be.”

Catherine grimaced at them both. “Has anyone ever told the two of you that you could really use a less morbid sense of humor?”

Shamir gave her partner a slight smirk, while Byleth simply shrugged. There was nothing wrong with her jokes, as far as she was concerned. She glanced once more at the spot where Lorenz had fallen and then headed out of the training grounds.

With time to still kill before class started, Byleth found herself walking up the stairs towards the faculty offices. Without really considering why, she had decided to visit Professor Manuela in the infirmary. There was no particular reason not to, after all; no reason a fellow professor shouldn’t check in with a colleague, or a former pupil check in with a mentor.

Still, as she knocked on the infirmary door and was graciously ushered in by a smiling Manuela, her gaze drifted with purpose towards the patient beds. Each was currently empty of occupants and immaculately made up. Manuela might leave her own quarters looking as if a troop of starving rabid raccoons had torn through the place, but she ran a tight ship when it came to the infirmary.

Manuela followed her gaze towards the beds and then looked back to Byleth with a knowing smile. “Concerned for your student, hmm? He’s just fine, nothing that a proper heal spell couldn’t fix right up. Truthfully, I’m pretty sure that it was his pride that was hurt the most.” Before Byleth could protest and come up with a different reason for her visit, Manuela took up an admonishing tone and continued, “But honestly, Byleth, causing an injury on your first day as a professor? If you’re going to be that reckless with the children, the least you could do would be to work more on your Faith magic so you can properly take care of them yourself! After all the tutoring lessons I gave you when you were younger, there’s no reason that your healing should still be so basic. Goddess knows you have enough of an aptitude with magic!”

“I will work on that,” Byleth assured her, regretting her choice to come now.

“Good, and you can come see me for faculty training if you ever want to practice,” Manuela said, sounding relieved. “Oh, but on the other hand…” The physician’s grin turned sly. “I heard about your match with that handsome new captain. While I normally can’t condone violence against allies, if you ever do end up in another practice session with him, how about hitting him with just a little more force so he has to come see me afterwards?”

Thankfully, before Byleth had to come up with an appropriate response to that, there was another knock at the door and Professor Hanneman let himself in. He greeted Byleth kindly when he noticed her and then turned his attention to Manuela to consult her about a lesson plan. Byleth took the opportunity to slip out before the two inevitably ended up in an argument.

She would be a little early, but Byleth decided to head to class anyways. Leaning on the wall of the Golden Deer classroom beside the door, Byleth found Leonie waiting tensely. Upon catching sight of her, Leonie pushed herself upright and approached to intercept her. “Professor! Can I have a word with you?”

Byleth nodded passively and stopped while Leonie pulled herself up to her full height.

“Okay. About yesterday, that sparring match you had with Captain Jeralt? I was thinking about it, and I have to admit, the captain would probably have approved of your tactics with that surprise punch, honestly.” Despite her words, Byleth noted that the girl still looked fairly resentful. “But I still have to ask, just to make sure. Do you have something against Captain Jeralt?”

She thought briefly of how wary Rhea had seemed of his return and of her own sudden anger while fighting him, but ultimately shook her head. “No. I do not know him well enough to have anything against him.”

Leonie appeared a little relieved, but still unconvinced. “Good, because I do know him, and I can tell you right now that he’s a great man and a great captain! And no matter how skilled you are, I don’t think I would be able to respect a professor that couldn’t see that.”

Byleth considered her student for a moment before saying, “Okay.” Leonie seemed to be waiting for her to say more, but she slipped past her and into the classroom without another word.

The Golden Deer were much more subdued today as Byleth led them again to the training grounds. She spotted more than one relieved face among them when she instructed them to demonstrate their skills on practice dummies, rather than again offering herself as a sparring partner.

She kept a careful eye on each student as they spread out and practiced on their own targets. They used a variety of weapons, and she was satisfied to see that a few of them had grabbed two different weapons to train with.

Raphael had started with a training axe, which he had brought down on his target with such strength that, even with the weapon’s blunted edge, Byleth was mildly surprised that the practice dummy wasn’t torn asunder immediately. The unfortunate stuffed target didn’t last long, however. Raphael had switched to training gauntlets at his professor’s request, and his heavy pummeling quickly led to the dummy’s stand cracking in two. The boy certainly wasn’t lacking in strength, but Byleth noted he had probably never had formal combat instruction and could stand to learn some skill.

Lysithea had chastised her classmate for being so careless with equipment, which only led to it being more mortifying for her when a single Miasma spell from her hands reduced her own target to a smoking ruin. Byleth ended up fetching a modified weak Wind tome for the talented little mage to prevent any more property damage from her practice. Observing her further, Byleth concluded that while Lysithea was certainly a burgeoning powerhouse of magical potential, her constitution only allowed her to fire off a limited amount of spells before she was panting and exhausted.

Ignatz, despite his inexperience, was surprisingly accurate with a bow. Though one or two of his first shots had gone wide of his target, he was now consistently hitting near the bullseye. An encouraging sight, certainly, but she noted that he spent a considerable amount of time before each shot to get into just the right stance, correct where his elbows were, and sight carefully down his arm. In the time it took him to let loose one shot, Claude had managed to fire three arrows from his own bow. When the house leader noticed Byleth observing him, Claude paused to wink at her and twirl an arrow in his fingers with a quick, intricate movement that she couldn’t quite follow. He nocked the arrow and let it fly in nearly the same breath, and it sailed true to embed itself deeply in the center of his target. Byleth gave him one curt nod of approval before moving down the line to watch the rest of the Deer.

Lorenz, looking determined to prove himself after yesterday’s events, was relentlessly assaulting his own target with a training lance. His swings and jabs lacked much force behind them, but his stance was nearly textbook perfect. He was sweating profusely before long, but rather than stop entirely to take a break, he instead stepped back and prepared a small fire spell to fling at his dummy. Byleth made a mental note to work with him on his magic, seeing some promise there.

Leonie had attacked her dummy with a lance as well, going at it with her own heavy assault. Byleth could immediately see the roots of Jeralt’s own techniques in her strong blows and in the way she wielded her lance. When she switched to her bow, though, it was clear that she was more comfortable with that weapon. Byleth guessed that the girl had probably grown up hunting from the way that she handled it. She would need to adjust to put more strength in her shots to pierce through human targets that may be wearing armor, but she certainly had potential.

Hilda had taken a few halfhearted swings at her target with an axe, but was now conspicuously absent from the lineup. Byleth spotted her sagging on a bench against the far wall along with Marianne and made her way over to them.

Hilda looked up with a pitiful expression as she approached. “Professorrrrrrr,” she whined, “I’m just not cut out for this at all! Look at me, I have delicate little arms! I can’t swing that axe more than twice without completely wearing myself out. It would be better if I just left all this fighting and brawling and whatnot to the others.”

Despite her protests, Byleth could tell that the girl had not yet broken a sweat or even really exerted herself at all, and yet those few swings she had taken had an impressive amount of force behind them. She let her gaze pierce through the pink-haired girl for a few seconds (who, to her credit, only squirmed a little under that look), and then turned her attention to Hilda’s companion. “And you?” Byleth asked, while Marianne fidgeted and kept her eyes downcast.

“Um… truthfully, I would just get in the way on a battlefield. I… I can heal a little, but besides that, I can’t really do much. I’m sorry…”

Byleth shook her head. “Healing is a valuable skill. Do not dismiss yourself so easily. Here.” She drew a dagger that she kept beneath her sleeve at Shamir’s insistence and before either girl had time to register the weapon, she drew the blade swiftly against her own palm. She did not wince at the sudden sharp pain, or at the sight of the blood that welled up.

Hilda hissed in shock and squeaked out a horrified, “Professor! Eww, no!!” She pressed herself against the wall as Byleth held out her bleeding hand as if desperate to put as much distance as possible between herself and her teacher’s wound without actually leaving her seat. Marianne stared at the cut and its pooling blood with eyes gone so wide that they showed more white than the brown of her irises. Her breathing turned quick and shallow.

Ignoring the girl’s distress, Byleth offered her cut hand out with her palm up. “You may use this to show me what you can do.” When Marianne didn’t react, she added, “If you are willing.”

Marianne shut her eyes so quickly that Byleth could almost swear she heard them snap close and swallowed deeply. Her breathing slowly evened out, and when it was normal again, she opened her eyes and placed her hands beside Byleth’s own. A magic circle appeared above her palm, and within moments the blood disappeared and the flesh of her hand knitted itself back together.

When the magic circle dissipated, Byleth held her hand up and examined it, turning it back and forward. Not even a scar remained to show where she had sliced it. “Fine work,” she praised, holding her palm out for the girls’ inspection. Hilda relaxed slightly now that her professor no longer had an open wound but still looked uneasy, while Marianne glanced at the hand briefly before turning her gaze back down to the ground. “With a skill like this, you would be an invaluable asset to your allies on the battlefield.” Marianne mumbled a reply that Byleth couldn’t quite catch, and spent the rest of the session glued to her seat.

Except for Claude, the class eagerly bounded out of the training grounds when Byleth at last dismissed them, heading in a beeline for the dining hall. As the others left, the house leader approached her with his usual easy grin. “So, Teach? Now that you’ve seen us at work, what are you thinking?”

Byleth hummed thoughtfully. “There is certainly potential, but we will need to work hard to hone it.”

Claude chuckled at that. “Fair enough. The Golden Deer have never been the most elite out of the houses here. As far as I can tell, most Kingdom nobles are expected to be able to use a weapon by the time they can walk, and the Empire has always demanded excellency of their heirs. But our house is a mix of folks from different backgrounds without any such unifying ideals.” He shrugged, glancing back to the entrance of the training grounds where his classmates had recently departed. “Makes for interesting company, sure, but it’s not ideal with a mock battle coming in a few days that I, personally, really want to win.”

She nodded her agreement to that. Objectively, the upcoming mock battle was not an incredibly important event. It was merely a demonstration and a chance for the students to exhibit their skills at the beginning of the school year, which would serve as a helpful benchmark for showing their progress later on. The real competition would be the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, which would take place several months from now.

Still, subjectively? Byleth also very much wanted to win.

Claude’s grin grew wider, more calculating. “Well, we’ll train until then, but if we can’t rely on skill to carry the day, we’ll just need to come up with a clever scheme.” He gave a gesture that was half wave, half salute, and headed for the exit himself. “I’ll get to work on that, you just worry about whipping us into shape, alright? See you next class, Teach!”

Over the next week of classes, Byleth did just that. Later, she would want to help the students expand their repertoire of skills, but with the mock battle so close, she spent those few precious days helping the Golden Deer refine the talents they already possessed.

When Saturday came, Byleth took advantage of the free day to patrol the monastery grounds. It seemed to be a relatively peaceful day for Garreg Mach, despite the mock battle scheduled for the next day. Some ambitious students had locked themselves away within their quarters or in the library to get ahead of their studies, while most others used their first day off to relax or head into town. Near the Pegasus stables, she spotted Hilda and Marianne preparing for the round of sky patrolling that Byleth had assigned to them. She would have expected them to have already taken flight by now, but they were apparently held up by Marianne having put the customary light armor on herself backwards. Hilda was fixing it for her and ruefully complaining the entire time, while the other girl kept her eyes screwed shut and mumbled apologies. Hilda paused in strapping on a pauldron to tweak her companion’s nose playfully in an attempt to cheer her up, but if anything, Marianne only looked more embarrassed.

Byleth continued on in silence without either of her students having noticed her momentary presence. During her rounds, she caught sight of several other students from the other houses that she was beginning to recognize. Including, oddly enough, Edelgard, who had apparently cornered Captain Jeralt just outside the training grounds and was attempting to have a conversation with him, voice kept too low for Byleth to catch any of her words. Even from a distance, she could tell that Jeralt was answering the house leader with a flippant tone, trying to dissuade her from whatever topic she had brought up. There was a faded bruise on the side of his face, the remnant of their earlier sparring match. In sudden curiosity, Byleth had paused to watch them for long enough that Jeralt spotted her. He grew silent, ignoring the girl in front of him in favor of staring back at her with an unreadable expression. Edelgard turned as well, following the captain’s gaze until she also caught sight of her professor.

Byleth stood still under their gazes for a few moments before somewhat awkwardly raising an arm in greeting. She noticed that Jeralt smiled just slightly as his gifted armguard on her raised arm caught the sunlight shining down, and he waved lazily back while Edelgard bowed her head slightly in response, polite but not at all stiff. She left them to it then, turning on her heel and carrying on a little faster than necessary. She wasn’t sure what to make of either of them yet, and certainly did not know what to think of them two of them together.

The classrooms were as empty and quiet as she would have expected when she passed by them, but in the courtyard beyond she spotted one last familiar face. Cyril was busy at work chopping wood, with a sizable pile of freshly cut firewood already stacked up beside him. She was about to move on when she paused, stopping to watch for a moment. Sure enough, as she suspected, when he raised the axe above his head there was a small, almost unnoticeable wobble to his arms. Byleth certainly would have missed it if she hadn’t thought to check for it.

She made her way over to the boy, who did not look up from his task as he heard someone approach. “Cyril,” Byleth called, coming to a stop behind him and waiting for him to acknowledge her.

Cyril brought the axe down hard on the block of wood he had set up, splitting it with one blow. He neatly set the chopped wood aside before finally turning to her. “Hey, Byleth, can it wait? I’m sorta in the middle of something right now. I wanna finish this stack in the next hour!”

“Have you eaten?”

Cyril’s brows knitted together in confusion at the unexpected question. “Huh?”

“Have you had any food today?” Byleth repeated.

The boy frowned at her. “Uhh… yeah, I had grilled fish at the dining hall earlier. Why are ya-”

Byleth stared blankly back at him. “They were serving fish yesterday. Have you had a meal today?”

Cyril looked earnestly surprised at that, and glanced up at the sky as if only just realizing the sun had crept past the midday point. “Oh, you’re right. I guess I haven’t, then. Well, suppose I’ll grab something after I finish this up.”

She shook her head. “You should get something now, Cyril. You can finish your work after you have eaten.”

Cyril made a noise of dismissal. He turned his back on her and stubbornly set a new chunk on wood on the chopping block. “Look, this is my responsibility, alright? We can’t all be great warriors and professors, so if this is what I can do to help, then this is what I’m gonna do. Let me do my job.”

“You will not be helping anyone if you collapse and then cannot work,” Byleth stated. The only response she received was the echoing crack! as Cyril swung his axe down again.

After a few more moments of silence while Cyril set up his next block of wood, Byleth turned and walked back in the direction she had come from.

A bit of time had passed since the favored lunch hour, so the dining hall was not overly crowded when Byleth entered. There were only a few clusters of students, and one or two members of faculty enjoying a meal. A few pairs of curious eyes followed her as she made her way across the hall. It was rare that Byleth entered this building, as she usually had meals delivered to her quarters.

She grabbed an empty plate and began piling it liberally with what food was left, favoring prime cuts of meat and generous helpings of seasoned vegetables. Byleth was making room for a juicy rabbit haunch when she heard a voice pipe up behind her.

“Oh, Professor! Now this is a pleasant surprise. I don’t believe I’ve seen you in here before, and I’ve been keeping an eye out, believe me!”

Still holding the stuffed plate, Byleth turned to face the speaker, who wore a fashionable hat and a charming smile. She had on an academy uniform and was clearly a student, though not one of the Golden Deer. The newcomer bent forward elegantly in a polite greeting that was not quite a bow. “I’m Dorothea, from the Black Eagles house. It’s nice to finally officially meet you!”

Byleth inclined her head, polite in turn. “And you as well, Dorothea. Though I am sorry to cut our meeting here short, if you will excuse me…”

Dorothea’s grin remained in place as she inquisitively tilted her head just slightly. Something about her expression reminded Byleth of Claude’s own, an eye-catching smile that didn’t quite light up her eyes. “Oh? Don’t tell me you’re going to take that plate and eat alone somewhere. Food’s better in company, you know, and eating together is a nice way to get to know someone. I bet you could get a lot closer to your class if you took lunch with them.” She paused to ostentatiously scan the students already seated in the hall, her smile turning coy. “Although, I don’t see any of your fawns here. Why don’t you eat with me, instead?”

Byleth’s voice remained as toneless as always when she replied, “Thank you, but I have already eaten.”

Dorothea glanced down with widened eyes at the plate piled precariously high with food in the professor’s hands and opened her mouth to say something, but Byleth was already moving for the exit before she found her words.

Byleth watched Cyril chop through three more blocks of wood until he stopped suddenly, axe halted mid-lift, and raised his head to sniff the air. The warm spring day and slight breeze had assisted the smell of the full plate in Byleth’s hands in reaching the boy, and he whipped around to face her with a surprised and hungry expression.

She said nothing, simply lifting the plate a hair higher in offering and waited while Cyril’s hunger and stubbornness battled with each other. At last he set his axe down with a resigned sigh and trudged over to her, accepting the plate with a nod when she handed it to him. He sat down in the grass and grabbed the fork that she had left stabbed into a sausage, tucking into the food with gusto. He had already swallowed several bites when he paused and glanced back up at her, a chunk of potato halfway to his mouth. “…Thanks,” Cyril said, somewhat reluctantly but earnestly.

Byleth nodded, face neutral, and left him to finish his meal in peace.

Sunday found Byleth at the edge of a field just outside the monastery, preparing with her students for the mock battle. She wore simple leather armor today, having switched out from her usual dress for something more practical for fighting, and had the armguards gifted from the captain strapped onto her arms. She could just make out the other two classes in their own corners of the field, huddled around their respective professors to go over last minute plans.

Byleth eyed her own students. Each house was allowed four students, including the house leader, to represent them in this practice match. She had chosen Leonie, Raphael, and Marianne to accompany herself and Claude. Marianne stood a little apart from the others now, hands clasped together and head bowed in prayer, while Raphael threw practice punches and Leonie limbered up with stretches. Lorenz had been displeased when she had chosen Leonie over him, mentioning none too subtly that the Golden Deer would have benefited from a more noble representation of its students, but Byleth was unwavering in her decision.

She glanced behind her and upwards, where the walls of Garreg Mach loomed above the field. In the ramparts, she could spot the remaining students that had not been chosen to fight but had gathered to watch and cheer on their fellow classmates. Standing apart from them were the taller figures of Rhea and Seteth, who had come to watch the proceedings. Beside Seteth, Flayn poked her head above the wall and waved cheerily when she caught Byleth looking up. Byleth gave a short wave back and let her gaze drift to the man standing next to the archbishop and her advisor, ignoring their company in favor of appraising the battlefield with an experienced eye. As was customary for the captain of the knights, Jeralt had come to judge the proceedings and announce the start of the mock battle.

It was in part Jeralt’s presence that had made Byleth certain that Leonie would be a valuable asset today. She did not know her students well yet, but she did know that there was no way in hell that Leonie would accept defeat with her beloved mentor watching over the fight. Even if this was a mere mock battle, she would fight to the last and not give an inch.

Claude walked up beside Byleth and followed her gaze up. “Clever choice, putting Leonie on our team while her idol is watching,” he said, guessing at her train of thought. “Couldn’t have planned it better myself. So, Teach, any other schemes up your sleeve, or did you need to reserve that space for more hidden weapons?”

She opted to ignore the latter half of that question – she only had two hidden daggers on her right now, after all, which was perfectly reasonable – and focused on the battle ahead of them. “We will press the attack and take on the classes one at a time. If we can defeat the first one quickly, morality should be high to face the other.”

Claude nodded, eyeing the other houses in their own corners of the field. “In that case, let’s start with the Blue Lions. His Honorable Princeliness would likely feel obligated to join the fray if he saw the other two houses fighting each other, but Edelgard? She strikes me as being much more calculating. She’d likely opt to watch and wait, and take on the victors after they’ve worn themselves out battling the other house.” He shrugged ruefully. “As long as we can take out the first house without much trouble and keep the momentum going, it’s not a bad plan. Otherwise, well, it’s a bit of a gamble. But with your skill and my schemes? I like our odds.”

There wasn’t any more time for plans or preparations before Captain Jeralt’s booming voice echoed through the field, announcing the start of the mock battle.

Byleth formed a front with Raphael and Leonie and rushed for the Blue Lions before they could set up their defenses. Claude and Marianne followed closely behind their line, where they could be protected while they sent out ranged attacks and healed their fellow Deer as needed.

A wide-eyed Ashe only had time to fire off one shot before Byleth was on him, tackling into him with her shoulder. His rubber-tipped arrow managed to catch Leonie in her upper arm; not enough of a hit to disqualify the girl, but enough that it would leave a bruise if Marianne hadn’t stepped up to heal her. Byleth took the boy out of the match with a jab to his chest from her wooden sword, and at her orders, Leonie and Raphael surged forward to intercept Dimitri and Dedue as they rushed forward to defend their classmate. Between their brash assault and Claude’s supporting fire, the remaining Lions were quickly crumbling.

Things were certainly going just as they had planned – until an unexpected blast of magic from the side sent Raphael spinning, just barely managing to keep his feet under him. A charging Ferdinand followed soon after, engaging with Leonie as she moved to protect her recovering classmate.

Byleth glanced to where the magic attack had originated from to see Hubert overlooking the skirmish and grinning grimly. He said something to Dorothea beside him, who frowned but nodded, hefting her training sword and dashing forward to join Ferdinand in the attack. Edelgard took her place to stand beside Hubert, eyes taking in the proceedings for just a moment before turning to bore into Byleth herself with an appraising gaze.

“Huh. Well. Shit,” Claude said, stepping up next to Byleth and taking in the confused fray as Leonie and Raphael struggled to repel the attack from both houses.

“Language,” Byleth chided in a monotone, just because it felt like she should. Privately, she thought his words an accurate assessment of the situation.

Claude ignored her reprimand. “Looks like I underestimated just how fascinated Her Imperial Princess is with you, Teach. She’s determined to win this thing, but she still wants to see how you’ll handle fighting both houses at once.” Byleth turned to him, wanting to ask what he meant by that, but he carried on before she could, eyes alight in thought. “Okay, this is fine, new plan then. I may not have expected this, but I’ve got a surprise prepared for her, as well. Can you take those two on your own? Start with Hubert, and then face off against Edelgard once you’ve taken care of him. If she wants to see what you’re made of, you'd better give her a show.”

Byleth nodded. To Marianne, who had frozen up when the battle had grown chaotic, she called, “Go help Leonie and Raphael!” She exchanged one last glance with Claude, who flashed her a grin before he took off for cover in a small patch of trees nearby. Then she tightened her grip on the wooden sword in her hands and charged for Hubert.

With a nod to his house leader, Hubert left Edelgard’s side and strode forward to meet her, his smile wide and cruel. When they were close enough that she could easily hear him, he said, “Well, well. If it isn’t the archbishop’s little trained pet.” He raised one gloved hand that was already swirling with dark magic. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Without further preamble, he launched the dark magic for her head. Byleth lifted her sword to catch the brunt of the magical attack. The powerful dark energy swirled around her training sword, warping the wood and rendering it instantly brittle and useless. Hubert’s smirk turned triumphant as she tossed the still splintering weapon aside; his expression only faltered slightly when she continued her charge toward him.

Even without a sword, without a lance or axe, and even if she didn’t currently have daggers hidden beneath her clothes, strapped to her left arm and right leg – which she would be somewhat reluctant to use against a student anyway – Byleth always had her two favorite weapons with her.

Before Hubert had time to register her intent, she lurched forward and drove one of her fists into his stomach.

The upward blow lifted Hubert briefly off his feet and he fell in a crumpled heap, wheezing out a pained noise. Byleth stepped around him and strode forward to face Edelgard. Any student knocked to the ground was considered out of the match, so Hubert would not be giving her or the Golden Deer any more trouble.

Edelgard spared a brief concerned look for where her retainer lay in the grass, struggling to regain his breath, before meeting Byleth’s eyes with her own steady look. “I see that even unarmed, you are far from helpless.” She readied her axe and lowered herself into a combat stance. “Good. I will win this either way, but I must admit to being eager to see just what you can do. Do not disappoint me, Professor!”

Byleth raised her fists in readiness and slipped into her own combat stance, nodding once in acknowledgement. There was skill in the way that Edelgard hefted her axe. This could be a difficult match when Byleth only had the short range of her own fists to rely on, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. There was always something thrilling about a challenge like this.

They stood still for a few moments as they squared off, assessing each other and deciding on their best strategies. It was Edelgard that moved first, taking her first step forward in a brash charge against her professor, determination flashing through her eyes – only to be replaced with shock as an arrow soared through the air and hit her squarely in the chest. The arrow’s tip had been replaced from a sharp arrowhead to a soft material that burst upon impact to release a thick yellow substance that stuck into Edelgard’s clothes.

The stained mark left it undeniable that it was a vital hit, disqualifying the Black Eagle’s house leader from the match.

For several seconds, Edelgard could only stare in disbelief at the dyed liquid splattered onto her chest. She took a breath to say something, but instead her face suddenly twisted into an expression of utter, visceral disgust. It took Byleth a moment to understand why, and then she smelled it, too. The bright yellow substance wasn’t just designed to be catching to the eye, but also to the nose; it absolutely reeked.

“CLAUDE!!” Edelgard yelled, outraged, which only served to elicit a chuckle from the patch of trees that the boy in question had been hiding in.

“Nice distraction, Teach!” he called, sounding pleased. “Now let’s finish up the rest of this!”

Byleth had no qualms with hurrying towards the fighting and away from the stench of whatever concoction Claude had hit his rival house leader with.

By some miracle, Raphael and Leonie were both still on their feet, and Marianne had kept herself out of danger while continuing to heal them. They had managed to take out Dimitri and Dorothea but were struggling to keep holding their own against the remaining combatants, especially since Professors Hanneman and Manuela had appeared to support their students.

The match wrapped up quickly when Byleth and Claude rejoined their classmates. Ferdinand was taken out by an arrow from Claude that took him between his shoulder blades (just a normal rubber-tipped training arrow this time, fortunately for the Imperial noble), and Dedue fell to the combined assault of Raphael and Leonie while Byleth took on her fellow professors.

“And that’s that!” Jeralt called out as Hanneman and Manuela yielded before they had to take a punch. There was something that sounded like pride in his voice as he announced, “The winners of the mock battle are… the Golden Deer house!”

The distant cheering from the ramparts was drowned out by a much closer victory yell from Raphael, which Leonie joined in while pumping her fists in the air. Even Marianne had a small almost-smile playing at her lips.

“Nice job, everyone!” Claude said, when the celebratory cries had died down just enough for him to be heard. “Even if it was just a mock battle, the taste of victory is sweet and satisfying. And on that note, I propose we round up the rest of the Deer for a good old celebration feast!”

Leonie laughed happily at that. “I’m in! Sounds fun, and all that fighting sure worked up an appetite.”

“You can say that again!” Raphael agreed enthusiastically. “A feast sounds like your best idea yet, Claude!”

“Great,” Claude responded, before turning his smile onto Marianne. “And you have to be there, too, of course. We couldn’t have done it without your healing, and the others will want to congratulate you.”

“What?” Marianna asked, startled. “Oh, um… okay…”

Byleth watched the four of them heading back together towards the monastery entrance, chatting companionably about the match. After a moment, she let her gaze drift back up to the ramparts. Rhea remained at the top there, and even from this distance, Byleth could tell she was beaming with pride as she gazed back down on her ward. A few paces away from her, the captain of the Knights of Seiros was leaning against the ramparts, also contemplating Byleth from his vantage point. His expression was inscrutable, as it often was ever since he had returned to Garreg Mach, but she could almost swear there was an unexpected warmth in his eyes…

“Hey, Teach!” Claude suddenly called, pulling her out of her thoughts. Byleth let her stare fall back down to where he and his classmates had paused to look back to her. “You’re joining us too, aren’t you? The celebration won’t be half as much fun without the professor that led us to our first victory!”

Byleth hesitated. She had never actually shared a meal with students of the Officers Academy before, and furthermore, rarely ate with company rather than having her meals delivered to her quarters. Her Golden Deer deserved their celebration, and she didn’t want her presence to put a damper on the festivities. But, strangely, the students ahead of her were now all looking at her with happy, eager expressions, seemingly truly wanting her to join them. After another moment passed and none of them yelled, “just kidding!”, Byleth stepped forward to walk with them.

~~~

The Golden Deer took to the dining hall early and stayed late, keeping up the festive atmosphere well after the sun had set. The long hall echoed with their laughter and banter. Raphael had reenacted part of his showdown against Dedue and Dimitri to cheers and applause, Hilda had praised Marianne’s healing and talked up the moment she had taken out Dimitri with a surprising Nosferatu spell until the poor timid girl’s face had turned bright red with embarrassment from the attention, and at one point Byleth caught Leonie charading taking an exaggerated punch to the stomach to resounding laughter from the rest of the Deer, which she suspecting was meant to be acting out the moment Hubert had fallen to her blow. Her suspicion on that matter only grew when several of the students glanced back at her with beaming faces.

The entire evening had felt strange to Byleth. She had remained mostly quiet during the feast, but the students still seemed pleased to have her there. Though she had spoken little, being with them as they celebrated, and as they occasionally turned to her with a smile or a joke to share… her face stayed still, but she thought she felt something in her stirring, some feeling that she couldn’t quite name.

“Oh, by the way, your dad had a word with me earlier.”

The statement was so strange, it took her a moment to realize that it was directed at her. Expression neutral, she turned to face Claude where he sat smiling ruefully next to her. “My what.”

“Your dad.” His voice sounded amused. “Seteth, I mean. The man sure acts like your father, anyway.”

She shrugged. “If you say so. Which word, exactly, did he have with you?”

“Well, several words really, and none of them very nice. Dishonorable, improper, and shameful, to name a few. He didn’t approve of the little gift I prepared for the Imperial Princess with my arrow earlier.” He shook his head, tone nonchalant. “It wasn’t against the rules, I made sure of that before I made the thing, but Seteth made it clear he didn’t believe it held with the spirit of the competition. If he comes to you later and tells you to give me a lecture about it, have mercy on me, alright? My poor ears are still ringing from his own reprimands.”

Byleth considered him for a long moment. “I do not see a reason to lecture you about it. That shot you took was a clever ploy.” She took a sip of her drink, and then added, “And after smelling that substance you made for myself, I can say with certainty that it will stick with Edelgard for a long time as a lesson on not forgetting one’s surroundings.”

Claude’s brows raised in genuine surprise. “Are you serious, Teach? Wow, you seem so serious all the time, I was not expecting you to approve of any of my schemes like that.” His expression melted back into its usual grin. “Well, this is fortunate. With that permanent composed mask of yours and my cunning planning, I think we could make quite the talented pair. I’m actually a little sorry now that I didn’t tell you ahead of time what I was planning when I asked you to take on Edelgard. Oh well, it all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

He stood up suddenly, raising both his voice and his glass as if the mug held something other than just water. “A toast! To the Golden Deer, and to our Golden Professor! Under her guidance, may this be the first of many sweet victory celebrations!” His tone was playfully overly grandiose, and it was clear he wasn’t taking himself seriously in that moment, but the call was nonetheless echoed by the students in the hall with several cheers.

Byleth again felt that strange feeling in her chest as several glasses were raised in tipped in her direction, and the festivities, which had been dying down with the late hour, were joyfully picked back up into full swing.

Chapter Text

“Byleth? It’s time to wake up.”

Byleth groaned slightly and flipped over onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow.

“…Are you a child!? Stop ignoring me and open those eyes! Or do you intend to sleep the entire day away?”

She muttered an unintelligible response and attempted to push her head even deeper into the pillow. It was exquisitely soft, filled with the finest down, and invitingly welcomed her in further to its depths.

The speaker huffed an annoyed sound. “Fine then, don’t listen to me. But you’re going to be sorry when you’re late for your class!”

A couple of those words managed to reach Byleth’s hazy thoughts, but they didn’t quite make sense. “…Rhea?” she mumbled, still half asleep. Her words were muffled by the pillow her face was cocooned in. “I do not… have lessons anymore… Jus’ missions…”

There were several seconds of blissful silence following that. But then: “Byleth, you utter fool, you’re a professor!!”

That jolted Byleth awake as effectively as a Thoron spell. Outside her window, the sun had cleared free of the horizon, which meant it was much later than she usually awoke. And that, undoubtedly, the class she was teaching was going to be starting any minute. She swore, a matter-of-fact “fuck” that didn’t nearly convey the depth of her sudden waking alarm, and launched herself from her bed. Her nightclothes were tossed across the room and a fresh uniform tugged on in nearly the same breath.

She had nearly forgotten about the voice that had woken her up, and she jumped slightly upon hearing an exasperated sigh as she was yanking on a pair of tights. “Honestly, you are hopeless. How did you ever manage to get by without me to guide you?”

Byleth cast her eyes quickly around her room, mentally recalling which of her hidden daggers would be closest to her, but there was no one else with. It took her a moment to realize what was happening. “…Sothis?”

A derisive snort echoed in her ears. She blinked, and suddenly the floating figure of the girl in her head was there in front of her, glaring at her from the corner of her room. “Indeed. Don’t say that you have forgotten me so quickly?”

Byleth shook her head as she returned her attention to dressing herself. “Of course not. You are quite difficult to forget about.” Her momentary confusion had drained away the adrenaline that had coursed through her upon waking, leaving her to feel just how tired she still was. She paused in getting ready as a deep yawn forced its way out of her.

Sothis’s frown turned even more disapproving. “Still sleepy, are we? What else could be expected, after how late you stayed up celebrating with those children of yours? You should try to at least pretend to be responsible!”

She refused to be embarrassed about that. “They performed exceptionally well in the mock battle. Their feast was well deserved, and should serve to keep morale high for their upcoming studies.”

Sothis reclined back in midair with her arms crossed behind her head as she raised an eyebrow at Byleth. Her voice sounded amused as she spoke again. “My my, so analytical about a party. And yet, that does not explain why you had to remain until so late into the night.”

Byleth turned her face away from the girl and refocused her efforts on dressing herself to hide the fact that she didn’t have a proper answer to that. The chuckle that sounded through her head made her suspect that Sothis saw right through her, anyway.

She lacked the time to braid and decorate her hair with ribbons, so she settled for quickly running a brush through it and tying it back, and then was out of her room at a brisk pace, heading straight for the Golden Deer classroom. Breakfast would have to wait.

Byleth managed to make it to the homeroom with only a couple of minutes to spare before the bell would ring out the start of the school day. She was somewhat relieved to see that despite the late night, all of her students had made it to class as well, although Raphael was slumped forward onto his desk, in a deep doze. Next to him, Lysithea had needed to perch on the very edge of her seat to have enough room to place the book she was intently reading on her own desk while avoiding brushing against the boy’s splayed out arms. Upon noticing that her professor had come in, she firmly tapped Raphael’s shoulder and he shot awake with a startled noise.

Most of the students looked up from talking to their neighbors or preparing their notes for the day’s lesson to shoot her a smile. Even Ignatz beamed at her and Marianne managed to meet her gaze for just a second before dropping her eyes back down, a far cry from how the two of them had regarded her the same way a rabbit regarded to a snake during her first week as their professor.

She kept the students in the classroom for the lesson that day as she discussed battalions and gambits. Throughout her lecture, she noticed that the Golden Deer seemed more engaged than usual, often getting her attention with a thoughtful question or with a solution to the scenarios she posed. She found herself wondering just how far her students could progress in the coming year, and she resolved to start working on individual lesson plans for each of them.

The Garreg Mach bell rang out the lunch hour in what felt like a very short amount of time. Byleth hovered at the doorway as she watched her Golden Deer walking companionably together towards the dining hall, and she lingered there for far longer than she intended to. This would be a good time for her to sneak back up to her own quarters and have a meal delivered to her in peaceful solitude, but…

She felt Sothis’s presence at the back of her mind, and although she couldn’t see the girl, she was somehow aware of her rolling her eyes. “If you want to join them so badly, then go! Don’t just stand there looking like an abandoned puppy.”

Byleth stiffened. She had heard others referring to herself in many different terms since she had taken up arms in the church’s service, but abandoned puppy was a new and unwelcome one. “I was not-”

“And you do not need to speak aloud for me to hear you, you know. Let your mind and your heart be as one, and I will hear your thoughts as clearly as if your tongue had given them life.” Byleth blinked, taken unawares by the girl’s poetical tone shift. “Now get moving already! You have dallied here long enough, you simpleton.”

Ah, that sounded more like her. Byleth obediently let her feet carry her forward, deciding it would be easier to obey than to argue.

Her students had already settled in together at a dining table with full plates and, lost in conversation together, none of them noticed when Byleth came in. That was good, she thought as she approached the lunch spread to examine what was on the menu. It would give her more time to come to her senses and leave.

But rather than grab hold of her wits, she grabbed a plate.

She had only just finished gathering together her meal when a cheerful voice behind her called, “B- Professor!” Flayn had approached her, her smile wide and sincere. “I did not know that you ever came here. What luck, that we are here at the same time! I have managed to convince my brother that it would be nice for us to eat with more company once in a while. You are most welcome to sit with us!”

Byleth dutifully followed her back to the table they had picked out, sitting beside her and across from Seteth, idly wondering if there was a soul in the world that was monstrous enough to be able to turn down a request from Flayn. It didn’t seem likely, if even Byleth herself could never manage it.

Like his sister, Seteth was pleasantly surprised to see her. He grinned warmly as she joined them. “Ah, Byleth. It is good to see you here. It seems you have taken my advice to heart after all; I have been hearing favorable reports about your work with the Golden Deer students lately.”

Byleth hummed around a mouthful of fish. “I have indeed refrained from beating up any more of them, if that is what you mean.”

At her side, Flayn turned to her with an alarmed expression and silently mouthed What?

“Well, that is certainly a good start,” Seteth conceded, looking a little pained. “Oh, and congratulations are in order for your victory in yesterday’s mock battle! Your command with the students was excellent. I took the liberty of having a talk with your house leader about his little, ah… stunt, but besides that, you should be very proud of what you achieved.”

Byleth took another bite of her food instead of responding.

“Oh!” Flayn piped up, alarm forgotten as another thought occurred to her. “And what are your students like?”

Seteth shot his sister a slight reproachful look as Byleth considered that. “They have potential,” she concluded after some thought.

Flayn frowned at her, paying Seteth’s look no mind. “Yes, but what are they like? As people?”

“Oh.” Perhaps she should have taken lunch in her room after all. This was not the sort of conversation she thought herself particularly capable of having. “Um. They are… young.”

The green-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Yes. And? Are they kind, have you been enjoying their company? Have they treated you well? Oh! Have you made any friends with them?”

Yes, she definitely should have just eaten in her quarters. “I have said it before, I am not meant to be a friend for them, I am meant to be their-” Byleth turned back to look at the table her students were occupying as she spoke, and happened to make eye contact with Raphael as he was raising a large drumstick to his mouth. He dropped it immediately in favor of lifting his hand in the air to wave enthusiastically at her, grease dripping down from both his hand and his huge smile. The large boy’s expressive motion caught the attention of his classmates, who also turned to spot her and cheerily deliver their own waves. She froze for a couple of seconds before nodding curtly back at them and turning back to face her own lunch companions.

“…Yes. They are kind,” she stated at last, keeping her eyes on her plate. She did her best to ignore them and return to her meal in peace while Flayn chuckled and Seteth appraised her, one corner of his mouth pulled up into a tiny grin. Sothis was openly laughing in the back of her mind.

It would be a while, she decided, before she had another meal anywhere other than her room. Even if it had felt a little nice that the students seemed to enjoy seeing her.

~~~

Her students stayed just as engaged throughout classes in the following couple of weeks. The time passed without incident, until one weekend in which she came across a certain dropped item by the second floor offices.

“I can feel your irritation, you know. You are ridiculous. I can’t begin to understand why you let that man get under your skin so,” Sothis chided, voice echoing through Byleth’s head. She ignored the girl as she pressed on. The door to the room she was heading towards was already open, with two voices she recognized drifting out into the hall. She stepped through the open doorway to the captain’s quarters and paused, waiting for the occupants to take notice of her.

Leonie stood in the center of the room, holding a broom as if it were a lance while Jeralt appraised her stance. “Good, good,” he said after a moment, nodding. “Remember to keep your left hand a little further down, but not so far that you lose control during jabs. Staying in control of your weapon is more important than how much strength you can put behind your attacks.”

“Right, Captain!” Leonie shifted her grip according to his instructions and carefully observed where her hands were on the handle of the broom, memorizing it for future reference. She must have sighted Byleth out of the corner of her eye, for she straightened suddenly, eyes a little wide as she looked at her. “Oh, Professor, I didn’t see you come in. Hope you haven’t been waiting for too long! I was just getting the captain’s help with how I hold a lance.”

Jeralt glanced up and grinned slightly at spotting Byleth. “Hey, Professor. Didn’t mean to steal your student, but-”

Byleth strode forward to the captain and held out the half-empty flask she had found by the stairway, pinching it lightly between a single finger and thumb as if she were holding a dead rat. “Is this yours?”

Jeralt seemed too surprised by the return of the object to notice her distaste. “You found it! I was worried I would never see it again. Thanks.”

She tossed the liquor-filled flask back to him, ignoring his gratitude. “Do not leave such things where students could find them,” she said, the barest hint of disapproval in her words. Judging by Jeralt’s grimace, he knew her well enough to know that any tone that reached her voice spoke volumes.

“Er, right… sorry about that.” He hefted the container a couple of times, testing its weight, before stashing it securely away. “It’s about as heavy as I remember so no brats snuck a sip of it. Not this time, anyway. Oh, don’t give me that look, I’ll be more careful, all right?” Byleth hadn’t realized she was giving him any sort of look; she schooled her face back into its natural expressionless state. Jeralt sounded relieved as he spoke again. “And hey, I mean it. Thank you, ki- Professor. I’ve had this flask for a long time, I’d really miss it if you hadn’t found it.”

After a moment, Byleth nodded once, finally acknowledging his thanks. She hadn’t realized there was tension in the room until it suddenly evaporated in that moment, and the two of them stared at each other in the awkward silence that followed. What irritation she had felt upon entering had fled when faced with the captain’s sincerity. Without it, and without anger, she was not sure how to speak to Jeralt on this new, thin ground.

“So,” Jeralt said, but at the same instant Byleth had started to say “Do you-” and they both stopped, waiting for the other to speak.

“Well,” Byleth started when it seemed that neither would continue, but simultaneously Jeralt started to say “What I was-” and they both stopped again.

Another uncomfortable moment passed, and then Byleth gestured for the captain to speak first. “Right,” he said, “well. I just wanted to ask how your classes have been going.”

“Ah. Fine,” Byleth responded.

“Yeah? Good, good.” More silence followed, and Jeralt coughed into his hand. “Er… sorry, did you have something you were going to say before?”

She did, but she had forgotten what it was. Instead, after a pause she said, “…The weather today is nice.”

“Dear GODDESS!” Leonie suddenly belted, startling both adults who had forgotten about her presence. “Why are the two of you so weird with each other? It’s so frustrating, I’m sure if you could just push past-” she waved her gloved hand vaguely in their direction, “-whatever this is, you’d actually get along great! You’re both skilled warriors and amazing teachers, and I heard for myself from Claude just how well you worked together outside of Remire. Plus, I feel like you have a lot in common somehow, I don’t get why you can’t see that too.”

“Now hold on, Leonie-” Jeralt interjected, at the same time that Byleth cut in with “Leonie, that is not-”

Leonie threw her hands to the sky. “Just figure it out already!” she yelled, exasperated. She turned on her heel suddenly, causing the jacket tied around her waist to fan out briefly from the speed of her motion, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

The silence left in her absence was even more uncomfortable than before. Several seconds passed in which all either of them could do was stare wordlessly at the door where the student had violently exited. It was Jeralt that was first moved to try to break the odd atmosphere, sheepishly scratching at the back of his head as he spoke. “Well, that was embarrassing. No idea what she was on about.”

Byleth hummed a noise of agreement, still not looking at the captain.

There were several more moments where neither spoke, before Jeralt finally turned to her. “I visited her village when she was a kid, you know. Or more of a kid than she is now, anyway. She declared herself my apprentice while I was there. It was just for a short time, but apparently that’s what inspired her to study here and try to become a mercenary.” The corner of his mouth turned up wryly. “Look after her, alright? She’s the only apprentice I’ve ever had.”

“What about Alois?” Byleth’s words surprised even her. She was, of course, aware that Jeralt was the captain that Alois had always spoken so fondly to her about, but she had never really sat down to consider that connection.

“Ah, well… He was my squire for a time, sure, but I never really thought of him like that.”

“He told me a story, once.” Byleth finally turned to face the captain, considering his expression as she spoke. The words seemed to come out of her on their own accord; she had forgotten about this event and was a little surprised that it returned to her now. But a feeling that was starting to grow familiar bubbled up within her, and at least it felt like she was back on solid ground. “What he thought of as a funny anecdote, about a time he visited a tavern with you.”

Jeralt stared back at her curiously. “I’ve been to a lot of taverns in my time. You may want to be a little more specific.”

“You had been drinking when the patrons there crowded around you, looking for some entertainment,” she recounted. Jeralt frowned slightly as if that sounded familiar but he still couldn’t quite recall the specific incident. “They asked you to throw the hatchet you had with you at a target, even though you were drunk. You obliged, and told Alois to stand at the opposite end of the tavern with an apple on his head. When you threw your hatchet, it flung across the room squarely towards Alois’s chest. Had he not dodged out of the way, he would not still be with us today.” She was quiet for a moment, contemplating the captain as she continued. “Alois laughed as he told me about it, but then he grew preoccupied. It occurred to him that he had never seen you miss a target before with that hatchet, not once. You should not have missed that shot.”

Recognition flashed in Jeralt’s expression. “Oh, right. I had forgotten about that. Listen, I-”

“If you ever hurt him,” Byleth said, cutting the captain off abruptly and staring intently into his eyes, “I will kill you.”

Jeralt blinked at her, his eyes round with shock. And then, he did the last thing she expected; he threw his head back and laughed uproariously, his entire frame shaking with mirth.

Byleth waited, staring unblinkingly at the captain until his bellowing laughter subsided enough for her to be heard without raising her voice. “I have been informed on more than one occasion that it can be difficult for people to know when I am joking. Allow me to make it clear, then, that I am not joking now.”

Jeralt shook his head, smile unfaltering while he regained his breath. “Oh, I know,” he replied at last, the ghost of a chuckle in his words. “You really mean it, I believe you.” He placed his hands at his hip and beamed at her, the expression surprisingly soft. “This will probably sound strange, but it’s kind of a relief to hear that you’d go to such lengths to protect someone, especially someone other than… uh, your adoptive guardian, anyway. I mean, sure, you saved that girl back in Remire, but that could have been chalked up to duty. I couldn’t figure out if you truly cared about anyone. It’s nice to hear that you do, even if it’s Alois of all people.”

Byleth had to resist the sudden urge to avert her gaze. “I merely do not wish harm to befall him. That does not mean that I care about him.”

In the back of her mind, Byleth heard Sothis snort in amusement.

“Sure,” Captain Jeralt agreed, blatantly sounding unconvinced.

“I have work to do,” Byleth declared, turning on her heel as Leonie had earlier and striding for the door.

“Alright, see you around! Don’t be a stranger!” the captain called after her. Even after she had stepped out into the hall and pulled the door close behind her, she could make out the sounds of Jeralt chuckling to himself through the wood.

That certainly had not gone as she had expected. And she was certain that something between her and the captain had changed, even if she wasn’t at all sure what that was.

~~~

Ignatz had asked her recently, hiding hands covered in paint behind his back, if she had any hobbies. If there was anything she did just for herself, just to relax. An odd question, and at the time she had simply said no without any thought.

What goal would that serve, after all? She was a tool, a purpose in motion, an instrument of the church. More specifically, a sword in the hands of the archbishop. Any moment not spent in carrying out her tasks should rightfully only be spent in sharpening her edge to keep herself performing as best she could, such as by practicing her weapon skills or by expanding her mind with books and studies.

But as she reeled in her ninth catch of the day and added yet another fish to the water-filled bucket behind her on the docks, she had to admit to herself that maybe, just maybe, fishing was something that she did more for her own benefit than for anyone else’s. Sure, she always handed her catches off to the kitchen staff at the end of the day, but the larders of the church were hardly hurting for supplies. Logically, adding surplus fish to that stock was not an entirely necessary task, and if it was, it would be one best left to someone else. But she enjoyed it, in so much as she would allow herself to enjoy anything.

There was an easy, simple satisfaction to getting a bite on the line and pulling in a catch. But there was more to it than that. In between those catches, she liked the tranquility of just sitting at the end of the dock, letting her legs hang just above the water, and letting her mind wander as she gazed out at the pond’s surface. It gave her time to sort through her thoughts, or even just to not think about anything at all, and she always left the fishing pond feeling refreshed. She was even able to get that peace on days when Alois would join her in casting out a line, since thankfully the boisterous knight knew her well enough to give her at least a few stretches of silence in between his chatter to let her relax. Being here, fishing pole in hand and still water in front of her reflecting the sky, felt like some of the only time that Byleth truly had to be herself, alone and with no expectations.

Or mostly alone, anyway. A soft padding noise approaching her from across the planks alerted her that she had company.

“You,” she said tonelessly, recognizing the tiny footfalls.

“Mmmrrrrr!” said her visitor cheerfully, and the sounds of his approach quickened. She did not need to turn around to know he was hurrying to her with his tail held high in greeting, pointing as straight up as it could given that it had clearly once been broken badly and had healed improperly.

The cat reached her and enthusiastically threw himself into rubbing against her back, spine arched high and his front paws kneading against the wood below him. His entire body rumbled slightly with his purring.

“I suppose you are here to steal from me again, little thief.” Her tone had no inflection that would hint at the condemnation her words held. The cat mewed happily in response to Byleth speaking to him and came around to her side to be in her view as he flopped down onto his back, belly facing her as if asking to be rubbed. He was completely black, but his long fur appeared a warm brown color where the sun shone through it. His tongue poked out slightly trough his teeth, and his purring left his throat as an awkward wheezing noise. Aside from just being crooked, his tail was also awkwardly shorter than it should be, as if the last quarter of it had been cut off in whatever event had left it broken. She guessed that he couldn’t be much older than four years, but life as a stray had clearly not always been kind to him.

“Buttering me up will gain you nothing,” Byleth informed the creature. She jutted her elbow out in a shooing motion. The cat leapt to his feet, but rather than fleeing, he hurried under her elbow and walked beneath it, luxuriously arching his back up into it and effectively petting himself against her. She held her arm out steadily as he made a slow pass like that, and she continued to hold that position while he turned right back around and rubbed himself up against her heading in the opposite direction. The cat stroked himself against her elbow a few more times, purring warmly, and then padded off behind her. She heard his steps stop right around where her basket full of caught fish was.

“Do not even think about it,” Byleth warned, voice still blank. “I will hunt you down and turn you into a new pair of boots.” A tiny splash sounded, indicating that the cat had just plunged a searching paw into the bucket. After a moment’s pause, she added, “Do not take the bullhead. It has a very hard skull that you might hurt your teeth on.” A louder splash let her know that the cat had chosen his meal, and his footsteps were heavier as he hurried further back down the dock with his prize. He stopped suddenly, just before he had cleared the docks. She heard him let out a rumbling growl, his intended threat clear to whatever had accosted him, even muffled as it was by the fish he carried in his mouth.

“Woah, easy there, buddy!” a new voice called, placating. “I promise I’m not going to take your fish, I just want to get past you.” There was a shuffling, and as the cat slipped by and took off for somewhere to eat his meal in peace, new footsteps sounded on the dock, coming to a stop just behind and beside her. “Well, Teach,” Claude said, and Byleth could hear the smile in his voice. “It looks like I just discovered your secret.”

Byleth reluctantly reeled in her line and set her pole aside, giving up on fishing for the moment. After making sure the hook was secured so that it wouldn’t get caught on anyone walking by, she turned to Claude with a neutral expression. “My secret?” she prompted when he remained quiet.

His grin was wide and teasing, but there was something shrewd in his eyes. “Yep! I saw all that just now. Underneath the whole scary façade and your unshakable composure, you’re actually a big softie, aren’t you?”

She stared at him blankly for a few moments, but he just kept grinning at her. “You saw me threaten to turn a cat into a pair of boots and that is the conclusion that you came to?”

“On the contrary, I saw you pretend to threaten a cat and then allow the hungry fella to take one of your fish, despite your more than skillful capabilities to have prevented it if you had really wished to. And then I came to the logical conclusion that you secretly have a big, soft heart.”

Byleth doubted that he could have picked a more ironic statement if he had tried. She was well aware that nothing was beating in her chest, and as far as she knew, she might not even have a heart. She didn’t know why, or how it was that she lived, but she accepted it, just as she accepted her role in this world. Her place in cutting down those that were unworthy to live in the same world as Archbishop Rhea. Her ability to do the things that no human being with a functioning heart seemed quite as capable as doing. Whatever it was that she may or may not have been feeling in her time as a professor did not change that, and she was ready for everyone to stop forgetting that. She was tired of letting herself try to forget it.

“Well, Claude,” she said, slowly and deliberately. “Being as you are so clever, perhaps you can help me. I have two problems. One, a student of mine clearly has too much free time, and two, said student seems to have a grave misunderstanding of my character. How do you suppose I fix both of these problems with one solution?”

Claude paused, the first traces of concern showing in his eyes as he seemed to realized he was on dangerous ground. “Huh… you know, I think that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say at one time in conversation,” he said, keeping his voice light while he tried to distract her from whatever plan she was forming.

“Training grounds, Claude.” Byleth briskly rose to her feet and strode past him, heading in the direction of the training area. She did not look back to see if he followed. She trusted that he was smart enough to know that things would only be worse for him later if he didn’t come with her now.

The training grounds were empty at this time on a Sunday afternoon, so fortunately they would have the area to themselves. Byleth could feel Claude watching her carefully as she made her way over to a weapon rack and browsed through the available selection. She settled on a training sword made from light wood and tossed it over to Claude, who managed to catch it with only a minimal amount of fumbling. He turned the weapon over in his hands, eyes curious, as Byleth approached him. When he looked up, his gaze homed in on Byleth’s empty hands and a small relieved smile appeared at his lips. “You don’t have your own training weapon, Teach? Phew, I was worried you were dragging me out here for a sparring match, which was most definitely not going to go well for me. Unless that was your plan and you’re just brawling empty handed, anyway.” His smile disappeared and his eyes grew wide with worry. “That… that’s not your plan, right? I’ve seen you use those fists on enough people by now to be able to guess how much that hurts. You’re definitely not going to punch one of your precious Deer, right?”

“The day is still young,” Byleth mused. “But no, that was not my plan. I want you to learn another weapon besides the bow. To start, we will just work on your form, your grip, and your steps. You will not be leaving these grounds until I am satisfied with your progress in these basics.”

Claude winced. “Sounds real fun, Teach, but, uh, any chance you’d let me go if I said I was sorry and I’ve learned my lesson and that you definitely do not have any softness in that heart of yours whatsoever?”

“Nope.”

He shrugged, grinning resignedly. “Well, worth a shot. Why a sword, though? I have a little experience with an axe, you know.”

Byleth shook her head. “As do Hilda and Raphael, but no one among the Golden Deer uses a sword. I would like to correct that. I had it narrowed down to either you or Ignatz but decided he would be better served by focusing on getting more used to the bow.” She tilted her head, considering him. “You have no experience with swords whatsoever?”

He scuffed the heel of his boot against the ground. “Well, not personally, but I have observed a skilled… let’s say a family friend. I think I’ve picked up a few things at least from watching her.” He slid his body sideways, making himself as small of a target as possible while he held the sword aloft in front of him with one hand, the blade nearly parallel with the ground. He kept his weight light on his feet, ready to move in an instant rather than trying to stay grounded. Byleth hummed in thought, appraising his stance. It was nearly perfect, but only if what he was holding was a…

She snatched the sword out of his hands suddenly, only his quick reflexes saving him from a splinter. He blinked in confusion while she returned the practice weapon to the rack it had come from. “Wait here,” she instructed simply, departing the training grounds before Claude could form a word.

It took her a longer time to return than she had expected. The knight that had been placed on guard duty at Garreg Mach’s vast vault had been reluctant to let even the archbishop’s ward take one of the treasures from within. It had taken some convincing, and a not particularly subtle reminder that the guard would not find it easy to stop her, but Byleth had finally secured what she had sought and returned to find Claude napping against the wall.

His eyes opened slowly and lazily when she tapped the toe of her boot against his leg, but there was an alertness there that made her suspect he had not truly been dozing off. “Oh hey, welcome back, Teach. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me in here.” He got to his feet and stretched his arms out luxuriously. “Where’d you get off to, anyway?”

Instead of answering, Byleth held out the weapon she had claimed from within the vault. “Try this.”

Claude’s brows lifted in surprise as he took the thin blade from her hands, examining it with a trace of awe. “A rapier? These are pretty rare. And valuable. Uh, is it actually alright for you to give me this?”

“It is a weapon. It is meant to be used,” she stated, echoing words she had used in her argument with the guard not long before. “I take it that this is the weapon your acquaintance preferred?”

He nodded, still seeming lost in thought as he observed the weapon in his hands. “You know, I’ve read that in some lands, only noble lords are allowed to wield rapiers. In such places, the techniques for such a weapon are closely guarded royal secrets.”

Byleth hummed. “Then it seems appropriate for you.”

Claude smiled at that, but she couldn’t read the emotion he was feeling behind the expression. He slipped back into his previous combat stance, which looked much more natural with the thin blade he now held. “I suppose so.”

True to her word, Byleth had kept Claude in the training grounds until the evening sun grew dim in the sky, overseeing his practice as she drilled him over and over again in the form and basic motions required for the rapier. As always, he was a quick learner, and she only needed to step in a few times to remind him to adjust an elbow or shift his foot into the correct position. He was sore and exhausted by the time Byleth declared the end of the training, but when she dismissed him with a curt, “Excellent work,” the smile on his face almost looked genuine.

Byleth herself was more than ready to retire to her own quarters and get a last bit of paperwork done before turning in for the night, but on her way to her room, a passing attendant with downcast eyes stopped her to inform her that Rhea required her presence.

The archbishop’s face was alight as Byleth lightly rapped on her door and let herself in. She was seated at her small table, with a luxurious tea set arranged neatly in front of her, still steaming with how recently a servant must have brewed it. “Hello, my dear child,” Rhea said warmly, as Byleth bowed her head in greeting. “You have wonderful timing. Won’t you join me?”

Byleth took her place in the chair across from Rhea, waiting for the archbishop to take a drink of her tea first before raising her own cup to her lips in an experimental sip. It was a lavender blend, slightly over steeped. She noted with some amount of self-satisfaction that Rhea did not seem to be enjoying it as much as she enjoyed the tea that she herself prepared before she banished the improper thought.

They passed the first few minutes in a companionable silence, as they so often did. When Rhea’s cup was half-empty, she set it down with a relaxed sigh and gazed across the table at her ward. “It is nice to share tea with you again. I requested you to join me so that I could inform you of your class’s mission for this month, but in truth such things are typically discussed in a more formal manner. But with you so busy with your new duties, I felt we had not been spending enough time together like this. I confess that I was starting to miss you.”

Byleth felt a twinge of guilt at that. “I am here for you whenever you have want of me,” she said, and was relieved to see her guardian’s smile grow brighter with that response.

“How sweet you are, my dear one. It makes me proud.” Rhea took another sip of tea, demeanor growing more serious. “Your mission this month is a simple one, but important none the less. We have received reports that the bandits you drove off outside of Remire have retreated into Zanado. Even now, they trespass on that divine ground, in blatant disregard of its holy significance to the Goddess and her faithful followers.”

There was a slight tremor in her hands as she gripped her teacup, and her voice shook with emotion. Byleth could not allow that. “I see. I will purge them from this mortal plane.”

Rhea’s grin returned, just as sweet as it had been before. “That is most reassuring. I know that I can trust you with this. And it should serve as a fine opportunity for the students to see the fate of those who would defile our most sacred tenets.”

From there, the conversation moved on to more idle things. Even though, Byleth could still see a line of tension within the archbishop. It had clearly upset her, deeply and personally, that a group of brigands would dare set foot in the Red Canyon.

Byleth had never shied away from her duties, but seeing Rhea now, she was determined to see to it that not one of those pitiless bandits would live long enough to regret what they had done.

Chapter Text

Byleth had wasted precious little time after receiving her mission from a distressed Rhea. She had roused her students at dawn and informed them they would be marching out within an hour.

“Consider it a lesson in preparedness,” she had stated when Hilda complained. Still, it was nearly two hours later when the Golden Deer were all gathered with their travel packs at the monastery’s entrance where she had prepared a small convoy for their journey. Byleth had kept a brisk pace as they moved through the mountains onwards to Zanado, stopping only when necessary for her worn out students to break or to sleep.

On the last day of their march, they set up camp for the night a mile before the dense forest gave way to the sparse vegetation of the canyon proper. The tree cover would prevent the bandits being forewarned of their presence, but once they reached the open plains around Zanado, there would be no preventing the rogues from seeing their group coming. But the bandit’s benefit of visibility from their camp in the canyon came with a stark disadvantage; they would have nowhere left to flee once cornered and would have no choice but to fight.

Byleth contemplated that as she gazed in the direction of Zanado, paying no mind to the sounds of the Golden Deer setting up camp for the night. She had fought against cornered forces before. It would likely prove to be a messy, dangerous affair as the bandits struggled desperately, knowing full well it meant their lives if they lost. She let her hand drift to rest on the pommel of her sword. It was nothing that she couldn’t handle, and it would be a relief to be rid of the group that had caused Rhea such distress with their trespass…

“Lorenz!!” Leonie’s shout brought Byleth out of her thoughts and back to the present. She turned to see the girl staring horrified at her confused classmate as he worked to set up his tent beneath a tall cluster of trees. “You’re right under a widowmaker!” Leonie warned, managing to sound both worried and disapproving. “Move!!”

Byleth gazed up and saw what her student had spotted. An old tall tree had died and fallen some time in the past, but on the way down it had gotten caught in the limb of its neighbor and was now suspended above the ground at an awkward, precarious slant. If the dead tree was dislodged, it would come crashing down at any moment, and Lorenz was setting up his tent directly under it. The noble boy was currently scanning the branches above him with a bemused expression, not recognizing what Leonie was trying to warn him about. “A what?” he asked. “Is that a village colloquialism? I implore you to speak more clearly, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Leonie let out a hiss of breath and lurched forward to drag an indignant Lorenz several yards away from where he had been. While their resulting argument rang around the campsite and caught the attention of the rest of the Deer, Byleth walked quietly over to inspect the base of the dead leaning tree.

“Don’t just stand under it! See that tree there? It could fall at any moment. Those are called widowmakers for a reason, you know. Do you have any idea how often woodcutters are hurt or killed by those?”

Byleth heard Lorenz’s responding scoff. “And that is why you saw fit to drag me around like some common luggage? I was hardly about to start waving an axe around. In case I need to remind you, as a noble it is my responsibility to see to the wellbeing of the people, and I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

More voices from around the campsite rose up as their fellow classmates got in their own input, which Byleth mostly tuned out as she tapped a knuckle against the trunk, noting how pliant the rotting wood was. When Leonie spoke again, frustration was clear in her voice. “Look, I’m just trying to help. I take it that part of being a noble means not spending a whole lot of time out in the wild. I understand why you wouldn’t know about stuff like this, but it could very well get you killed to not try to learn!”

“And now you’re accusing me of ignorance?” Lorenz shot back. “The nerve! I will have you know I was perfectly safe-”

The rest of his words were cut off as Byleth delivered a swift kick to the trunk of the dead tree and the wood split with an echoing crack! It knocked the leaning tree loose from the branches of its neighbor and with an unnervingly human-sounding groan, it tumbled free to crash heavily against the ground below, sending up a cloud of wood dust and splinters. The following silence within the camp was strangely amplified after just how loud the crash had been. Byleth looked to the ruined, torn-up remains of Lorenz’s tent underneath the fallen tree and then gazed pointedly into the boy’s wide eyes. “Perfectly safe,” she echoed tonelessly, watching the last of the color drain away from Lorenz’s face.

Byleth was grateful that she had had the foresight to pack a small spare tent in with their supply caravan. She had momentarily considered making Lorenz sleep unprotected outside to help the lesson sink in, but had quickly decided against it. His near-death scare and the embarrassment of having his classmates tease him were enough of a teacher, and besides, it wouldn’t do to have him freeze to death in the night or to end up too sick to protect himself in the fight tomorrow. Although they weren’t particularly close to the bandits’ encampment, a campfire could still give them away at this distance, so she had ordered that they go without.

Besides which, the incident was her own fault, wasn’t it? She should have noticed the danger herself. She had let herself get too focused on the battle ahead and forgotten that she traveled now with unproven students, not the experienced knights that she usually shared missions with. She made a mental note to prepare lessons in the future for outdoor survival, but resigned herself in the present to staying on higher alert. With that in mind, she arranged for nightwatch shifts to make sure that there were always two students on guard until morning, and slipped away to her tent to change into roughspun warm travel clothes.

After she had heard the last of the students retire to their tents for the night and the first watch, composed of Raphael and Hilda, move across the grounds to take up position at the edge of camp, Byleth snuck back out of her own tent. She slipped quietly through the trees, finding a location that was near enough to the students on guard that she could hear them but far enough to remain unseen under the cover of darkness in the woods. She silently settled herself on the ground leaning back against a large oak tree, placing her sheathed sword in her lap where she could garb it quickly if need be. She idly listened to the muffled sounds of Hilda complaining to her companion about still being awake as Byleth sunk back, allowing herself to get more comfortable. She would not allow for any more missteps under her watch. She would rest out here, where she could immediately leap into action if need be and a bandit scout found them. As a light sleeper, she would also be an extra measure of security in case any group of her untrained students fell asleep during their own shift.

Byleth pulled her jacket tighter around herself and suppressed a shiver. Even with her extra layers and warmer clothes, the Harpstring Moon night air was surprisingly chilly. Still, she reminded herself that some discomfort now was better than waking in the morning to find a student with a slit throat. She would do as she had to do, just as she had always done. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

During those first few hours, Byleth managed very little rest. Raphael’s enthusiastic, booming voice woke her up several times, and when he and Hilda finally retired and were replaced with Ignatz and Marianne, the night air had gotten colder still and it took her longer to finally drift off again.

When the sounds of the students changing out guards again woke her, she suspected she had managed at least an hour of real sleep. Byleth idly listened to the quiet chatter between Leonie and Claude as they took up their positions on watch, letting her eyes close and waiting for rest to return. She had been right on the edge of sleep when she heard a name in the students’ conversation that tugged on her attention.

“Say,” came Claude’s voice, “you’ve mentioned knowing Captain Jeralt for a long time, right Leonie?”

Byleth was immediately alert, listening in to this conversation. Despite her scattered interactions with the man, she was still no closer to discerning what his intentions were in returning to the monastery or figuring out if he could be trusted. A weighted presence at the back of her mind let her know that Sothis was awake and listening as well.

“Yep!” Leonie replied proudly, before admitting, “Well, sorta. I met him a long time ago, but I hadn’t seen him again after he left my village. I always wanted to meet him again, but I figured it would be after I became a mercenary myself. I still can’t believe he’s at Garreg Mach with us!”

“Lucky us. And this might sound like a weird question, but had you met Teach before?”

“Our professor?” Leonie asked, sounding confused. “Nope. I’d heard of her though, but I mean, who hasn’t? One of the elders in my village used to tell kids that if they misbehaved, then the Crimson Saint would come in the night and slice off their toes!” She chuckled to herself at the memory. “I’m pretty sure he just said it to keep kids from picking his oranges without his permission, but it worked pretty well.”

Byleth frowned to herself, not sure how to feel about the revelation of being a local story to scare children. And why cutting off toes?

“Glad that kept his orange tree safe from their tiny clutches but, uh, why slicing off toes?” Claude asked, echoing Byleth’s own internal question.

“Who knows? Guess it’s just something he came up with. Now that I’ve met her, that story really just seems silly.”

“Well, when you return home, you can tell everyone the truth,” Claude said. “Or, you could play up those stories even more and start off your mercenary career with a reputation as someone that survived a year under the terrifying toe-cutting Crimson Saint!” His voice wavered playfully on that title, and Byleth could picture him wiggling his fingers as he said it. Leonie laughed at that, keeping her chuckles quiet to not wake the camp.

When her laughter subsided, Claude said, “Oh, wait, I had a reason for asking if you’d met her. Doesn’t it kind of seem like she and the captain know each other somehow?”

“That boy truly is endlessly nosy!” Sothis exclaimed indignantly as Byleth frowned again.

“I don’t know about that,” Leonie said, slowly and skeptically. “Why would they hide it if they knew each other? Though I will grant you that they’re just… weird around each other. I think so, anyways. Honestly, the captain’s a bit different now than when I knew him.”

“Oh?” Claude’s voice was intrigued, and despite herself, Byleth found herself leaning a little closer towards them as if that would help her catch the conversation better. “How so?”

Silence stretched along in the night following his question. Byleth couldn’t see them from where she sat, so she couldn’t decipher what kind of silence it was. For all she knew, Leonie may well have just shaken her head and refused to answer, or even whispered a response.

But just as Byleth accepted there wouldn’t be an answer, Leonie responded. “I’m not really sure how to explain it. And, I mean, I was a kid and I’ve never considered myself great at reading people anyways but… I don’t know, he seemed… sad?”

“Sad? That’s… not what I was expecting,” Claude said, echoing Byleth’s own thoughts on that.

“I could have just been reading it wrong, but he’d just get… preoccupied sometimes. Like, it really seemed like something was weighing on him, you know? I could have just been imagining it though, he seems fine now.”

Claude hummed in thought, and from there the conversation turned directionless. Byleth let their voices become background noise as she stopped fighting her drowsiness.

“…Have you ever actually cut off someone’s toes?” Sothis asked suddenly before she had fallen asleep, sounding as if she had been wondering about that for quite a while.

Byleth settled back against the tree, getting comfortable for the last few hours of sleep she could still catch. I do not want to ruin that mystery for you, she thought, eliciting an annoyed huff from the girl in her mind.

The rising sun painted the stark rock walls in vibrant warm colors as Byleth’s group approached, just a shade too orange to truly live up to its name of the Red Canyon. She and her students had been spotted quickly after they had left the cover of the woods, and they were close enough now that they could hear the flurry of activity and shouts as the armed bandits rushed around their encampment for last minute preparations for the inevitable battle.

Byleth had already gone over the battle plan with her students during their breakfast of travel rations, and nodded once to Claude as the students divided themselves into two groups. Claude would be leading some of them to secure the western bridge and prevent any escapes, while Byleth herself would command the main force across the northern bridge to take out the bandits. “Do not let any classmates die under your command,” she said simply.

Claude gave her a two-fingered salute, responded with, “No pressure or anything,” and then was off, trailed closely by Lysithea, Leonie, and Hilda. Byleth allowed her eyes to linger after them for only a moment before turning back to her own destination and striding forward to meet the first of the bandits that were surging forward with weapons brandished. The students’ lives were in their own hands now; she at last had a clear objective ahead of her after an uncertain month of attempting to be a professor. Fighting and killing, at least, was something she had been trained for, something she perfectly understood how to accomplish. The world always seemed sharper, clearer, with a weapon in her hand and an enemy in front of her.

Lorenz and Raphael flanked her while Ignatz and Marianne took cover at their rear, but the students faded into a part of the background for Byleth as her focus narrowed onto the bandit charging towards her along the bridge, hefting a heavy axe. She dashed in close before he could bring it down and plunged her sword upward through his chest. His body flopped lifelessly to the ground and she stepped back and drew her sword out from between his ribs.

Three more bandits were barreling down the bridge towards them. An arrow whizzed past Byleth’s shoulder from behind, quickly followed by a firebolt from Lorenz, dropping the enemy on the left. The remaining two fell swiftly to Byleth. She wasted no time in intercepting bandits that followed, and moved like a blur as she dispatched them with the aid of her students.

She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed when there was enough of a lull in the fighting. The remaining bandits had fled further back into the canyon, unwilling to meet her and her students on the bridge as many of their compatriots had died attempting. The wisest course of action now would be to pincer them in with her other group of students and finish them off.

“Lorenz,” she called, and the noble snapped to attention. “Meet up with Claude’s group and pass on the order to pursue. Stay with them, make sure no bandits slip past you.”

He bowed shortly from the waist up. “Understood, though I shudder to watch Claude’s method of leadership up close.” And with that complaint aired, he was off. She watched his departure for a second before moving her way across the bridge, weaving her way through the corpses.

“Ignatz, buddy, we gotta keep moving!” Raphael’s voice carried to Byleth, and she spared a glance back to where he was hovering uncertainly near his friend. Ignatz didn’t seem to hear him. He clutched his bow tightly to his chest as he stared down with wide eyes at the body of a young-looking bandit with one of his arrows protruding from their gut. He looked like he was trying to say something, but couldn’t quite find his voice to speak it.

“IGNATZ!” Byleth snapped sharply, causing the boy to jolt and look up at her guiltily as if only just remembering where he was.

“S-sorry!” he called back as Byleth returned her gaze forward to scan for more enemies. She didn’t spare the time to respond. If he allowed himself to waver like that on a battlefield, then he would end up-

She knew the moment that she spotted movement behind an ancient crumpled column that she was going to be too late, but she dashed for the hidden archer anyway, dropping her sword so she could run faster. The twang! of a released bowstring filled the air, and the arrow soared to her left, sailing true towards its intended mark. She refused to be distracted as she heard a pained, inhuman sound from Ignatz, followed almost simultaneously with an enraged, disbelieving yell from Raphael.

She vaulted over the ruined remains of the stone column feet first, kicking into the chest of the enemy archer and driving him into the ground. His breath left him in a shocked exhale as he crashed hard against the stone beneath them, Byleth landing on top of him. She drew the dagger strapped to her leg and plunged it into his heart before he had the slightest chance to recover.

The world felt oddly still, as if it was somehow holding in a breath while she rose to stand above the dead archer, scanning the area around for any other bandits lying in wait.

“Professor!” Panic spiked through Raphael’s voice as he called her over, and she abandoned her search entirely as the world snapped back into motion. She rushed to where he was kneeling over the crumpled form of Ignatz. He was still alive, but the arrow had taken him through the throat. He fought for each wheezing breath, blood collecting in his mouth and his eyes impossibly wide. Raphael was calling desperately for Marianne, who was frozen in place and shaking as she stared down at her fallen classmate. Byleth had been in enough battles of her own to know that the girl would not have been able to make a difference in any case. It was a fatal shot, well past what any healer would be able to fix.

“Oh, no…” Sothis’s voice was unusually quiet, but it echoed around in Byleth’s mind, which currently seemed incapable of coming up with any thoughts of its own. Ignatz’s gaze met hers for just a moment in which she could see the terror and pain in his shining eyes. The next moment, some light had gone out from those eyes and his head dropped to the side, previously unshed tears escaping from his lids in death, leaving gleaming trails down his face. Raphael was still pleading with Marianne to help, even as the girl placed a trembling hand to her lips and shook her head, tears of her own flowing down her cheeks.

Byleth’s mind was finally able to form its own word, which was No, followed shortly by absolutely not.

Sothis, she thought, directing her internal words to the girl. I will not allow this. What you did in Remire… Can it be done again?

“Do you think my powers so insignificant that it could only be done once? The flow of time is mine to command, Byleth!” She felt something then, some energy flowing through her making her very veins feel alive as the world around her slowed to a stop, drained of color. The feeling was oddly familiar… There were times in battle when Byleth would feel a similar sort of power within her and she would deliver a strike with more force than she was expecting, feeling surprisingly rejuvenated afterwards. “I will allow you to use this power as well, but be aware it has limits. You can only turn back the hands of time so far, and only so many times in one day. Use it wisely; I would not relish watching children die in battle!” It felt perfectly natural to Byleth to gather that energy within her and release it outwards, sending the world spiraling.

((()))

“Ignatz, buddy, we gotta keep moving!” Raphael yelled.

Byleth spun around to see Ignatz, standing, alive, and unresponsive as he was before while he stared down at the body of a bandit he had killed. She glanced back to where the archer was hidden and did the calculations quickly. She still wouldn’t reach the bandit before he let loose the shot that would end Ignatz’s life, but she wasn’t far from the boy himself.

She sprinted towards him, ignoring the surprise evident on their faces as she bore down on Raphael and Ignatz. She dived and slid across the ground for the last yard, sweeping her leg to knock Ignatz’s feet out from under him at the same moment that a twang! sounded out. Ignatz fell on his back with a startled yelp and watched with shock as an arrow sailed above him, right through the spot he had been a mere second before.

“Stay down,” Byleth warned, getting back on her feet and charging for the archer with no wasted time. It was too much distance to cover before the bandit had nocked his bow and taken aim again, this time for her. His second arrow took her in the right thigh. Her steps faltered as white hot pain exploded in her leg, and then she was moving again, bearing down on the archer. The bandit swore loudly and fumbled his bow as he saw her speed towards him, and he was still reaching for another arrow when she sliced open his throat.

She flicked her sword to clear it of some of the accumulated blood as her students caught up to her, Ignatz limping slightly. Perhaps she had used a little too much force in knocking him down; after this battle was finished, she would check to make sure that his ankle wasn’t sprained or-

“Er, Professor?” Raphael ventured cautiously, interrupting her thoughts. “I don’t want to alarm you or anything, but, uh, you’ve got an arrow in you.”

She glanced down at the arrow protruding from her thigh. It had failed to go all the way through but was still lodged a couple inches within the meat and muscle of her leg, and blood had already soaked through her pants around the injury. “So there is. Thank you, I was not aware,” she said evenly. Her joke only seemed to make the students more uneasy.

“Doesn’t that…hurt?” He fidgeted slightly, as if embarrassed to be asking.

It was excruciating. “It stings a little.”

“Should we do something to help?” Raphael glanced back at the equally uncomfortable students behind him, as if asking for backup.

“It will have to wait until after we have dealt with the bandits. We need to meet up with Claude’s group.” She had continued to fight with worse injuries before during missions. Still, the arrow protruding from her leg would get in the way, and the barbed arrowhead would only do more damage if she yanked it out, possibly causing her to lose too much blood to stay on her feet. She grabbed hold of the arrow and snapped the shaft off, leaving only a couple inches of the narrow wood sticking out of her skin. She let out a tiny, sharp exhale as the vibrations shot through the end still within her and the pain in her leg flared, but otherwise kept her face set. She heard one of the students let out a squeak of surprise. Byleth tossed the broken end of the arrow aside and turned to move on.

“Wait, Professor!” She glanced back to Ignatz, who seemed to shrink immediately under her gaze. “Um,” he said to the ground, before squaring his shoulders and meeting her eyes. “Thank you. For, for saving me.”

His gratitude felt undeserved to Byleth, knowing that she had failed him once. Not sure what to say, she simply nodded and led the way further into the canyon.

Claude’s group was no worse for wear when they reunited, any injuries they had received already healed by Lysithea. Byleth dismissed their concerns about her own wound, ready to push onwards and rid the canyon of the last of the trespassers.

They found the leader of the bandit group with his few remaining living crew within old stone ruins that had been hastily fortified. Despite the defenses, numbers were no longer on their side. Byleth was relieved when the goons fell swiftly and the bandit leader alone was left to face them.

“Not you again!” the man groaned as Byleth approached him with her sword drawn, trying not to favor her injured leg too visibly. “Do the world a favor and just die already, you worthless dog of the church!” His charge for her was a wild and reckless thing, focus singularly on her, so he was taken by surprise when a powerful Miasma spell from Lysithea pounded against his chest, knocking him to the floor. He had just enough time to have a flash of regret cross his face as Byleth approached him. “I never should have listened to that idiot,” he moaned as Byleth’s sword swung down.

“‘Dog of the church’, honestly!” Sothis repeated scornfully as Byleth continued her patrol through the canyon. She had since cut the arrow out of her leg and had Marianne heal it, but the newly tended muscle in her thigh still twitched in protest as she walked. Byleth ignored it and pressed on, scouring through the Red Canyon alone to ensure that all the trespassing bandits had been slain. “As if that rogue had any room to speak ill of you. He was little more than a rabid dog himself!”

If names affected me, you would have long since been the death of me, Byleth pointed out. Another set of ruins appeared before her, these more intact than the last she had passed by. A few structures were whole enough that she would have to search more carefully for bandits attempting to hide.

Sothis let out an aggrieved sigh. “I am trying to pay you a compliment, you insufferable sod. You have earned my gratitude. I am relieved that the bandits that trampled through here are no more.”

Something about the sight of a corner on an ancient building stole Byleth’s thoughts before she could question Sothis as to why she was grateful. It tugged on the edges of her memories with a sense akin to déjà vu. As she stared, she could practically see the ghosts of those memories taking shape, a young child dressed in pristine white robes dashing around that corner with their parent in close pursuit, their shrill mischievous laughter ringing throughout the streets. She drew in an unsteady breath and turned her face away, but suddenly every part of the ruin had its own echo of what should be there, but no longer was. Three figures liked to huddle by that doorway in the afternoons and share in chatter, occasionally clapping a hand on another’s shoulder and laughing at a joke. That crumpled heap of bricks had once been an oven, and the family that lived there loved to share their latest batch of baked goods with everyone that visited. Byleth could practically smell the honeyed oat sweet biscuits that they had been famous for in the air… And as she would walk through this city, tiny hands would tug at her robes, begging for her attention…

There was something that should be here that was not here. There was so much that should be here that was not here.

The silence was suddenly unbearable, viscerally wrong. She drew in a deep breath, the desire to fix that silence as natural as the need to breath. Her voice echoed through the ruins and against the steep cliffs as Byleth tilted her head up and sang.

“In time’s flow… see the glow of flames ever burning bright…” Someone had sung that to her as a child, and it came now without hesitation to her own lips. Or had she herself sung that song to a child…? That didn’t make sense. “On the swift river’s drift, broken memories alight…”

It was a song that should be here, and its return almost distracted from how empty this place was, and its lack of figures gathered and watching her with awe and love in their eyes as her song reached the heavens…

“That song…” Sothis said as the last notes faded into the waiting canyon. “I know that song. I…”

Byleth suddenly became aware that she wasn’t alone, and the presence she detected wasn’t the insubstantial wisps her mind was conjuring in an attempt to fill these ruins with life. She whipped around to find Claude staring at her. He usually acted delighted at being caught where he shouldn’t be, carefree admissions of his guilt flying quickly to his smiling lips and generally earning him the easy forgiveness of those around him. But for just a second, Byleth thought his expression was one of open wonder when she rounded on him before he covered it quickly with a crooked grin.

“Oh, hey Teach! I never pegged you as the type to sing when you’re alone, or that you’d be good at it. Lucky me to have found you just in time to hear that.” Her piercing blank stare did nothing to discourage his upbeat tone as he continued. “Interesting lyrics, I would love to know what it means. Was that a church hymn?”

Byleth hummed in thought, giving in. “Of sorts.” And then because the memory had just returned to her and surprised her, without meaning to she added, “Rhea oft sang it to me as a child.”

She could see in his eyes that he had latched on to that detail and filed it away. Claude always seemed to be seeking out information on those around him and was particularly interested in whatever tidbits he could collect on her, if only because there was so little available. She half-expected some commentary from Sothis berating her for her discomfort when she had chosen to lead the Golden Deer knowing full well that its leader was this inquisitive, but the girl was silent, apparently lost in her own thoughts. Hoping to direct Claude’s thoughts elsewhere, Byleth said, “I hope you have a good reason for being here after my order for your class to stay put.” Any bandit stragglers would have been easy enough to take care of on her own and she didn’t want to worry about anything else befalling the students, even if she could apparently rewind time.

“I do, actually! We found a ledger that listed the bandits and the cuts they each took from raids. Guess at least one of these guys was organized. The body count matches the number on the list.”

Byleth nodded. “Then we are finished here. Let us depart for Garreg Mach.” As they walked back in the direction they had come from, she couldn’t help but cast one last glance over her shoulder at the ruins. They were just earth and stone now, no hauntings flitting about them supplied from memories she shouldn’t have. The Red Canyon had returned to stillness. When she faced forward again she caught Claude staring back at her, but thankfully he remained silent as they carried on.

The road back to the monastery was thankfully free of any surprises, and they made good time. Claude occasionally pestered her on the journey to lighten the mood with a song as they marched, which she always declined with a stern gaze. She was privately grateful that none of the other students had believed him when he had announced coming upon their professor, quote, “singing a ballad that would have the entire Mittlefrank Opera House weeping in appreciation”. Apparently singing and continuing to fight while ignoring an arrow stuck in one’s leg were two things that couldn’t be done by the same person, and Byleth felt no inclination to reveal the truth.

Soon enough, as they crested a hill, the view of Garreg Mach was suddenly open to them. “Finally!” Hilda exclaimed, “Ugh, I’m so done with all of this walking! I call first dibs on the sauna!”

“Those walls are a welcome sight, indeed,” Lorenz agreed, a relieved smile on his lips. Byleth guessed that he was thinking of his comfortable dorm bed with it's lack of precarious falling trees above it as he gazed down at the monastery.

Raphael barreled past them, practically charging down the hill. “Forget the walls! What really matters is the dining hall! I can’t wait for a proper meal after all those thin traveling rations!”

His energy seemed to be infectious, and soon the rest of the class was moving onwards with a spring in their step. Byleth followed after them, keeping pace with her charges.

It took a minute for her to realize that someone was missing. She stopped and looked back, spotting her wayward Deer at the top of a ridge a few feet off the road. Ignatz seemed transfixed by something as he gazed outwards towards the monastery, eyes bright and mouth hanging slightly open.

He hardly seemed to notice as she approached to take a position beside him and check over Garreg Mach once more. His expression had caused her to wonder if he had spotted enemies or some other danger lurking around the monastery, but all seemed safe to her.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Ignatz’s question was whispered and full of awe. Byleth blinked. Garreg Mach still looked the same to her as it always did. The tall layers of wall and parapets still stood vigil on the mountainous, rocky terrain leading to the monastery proper. The sharp angled roofs pointed towards the heavens, and even from this distance she could spot the occasional gleam sparking to life in the sky above the grounds as the sunlight caught the shining armor of a patrolling pegasus knight or wyvern rider. It was a sight she had seen countless times before as she returned from missions the archbishop had assigned to her, and she could see nothing special about it as Ignatz so clearly did.

She turned to consider the boy again. The way his eyes were wide and shining suddenly forcibly reminded her of that last look he had worn as he laid dying. Her sword hand itched as she recalled his terror and agony in those last few moments that had been erased from time, but there was no physical thing she could fight to ward him from danger now.

Ignatz’s eyes snapped back to her with a start, and all at once he was back to being a timid boy. “Oh, Professor! Sorry, everyone else has already gone up ahead, I didn’t mean to fall behind like this! Sorry for making you come back!” He attempted to scramble down the uneven side of the ridge at a run, desperate to make up for lost time, and almost immediately tripped as the rocky slope shifted under foot. Byleth reached out without thinking to grab the back of his uniform, easily holding his light weight suspended as he struggled to get his feet back under him.

“Do be careful. The ground here is much harder than your body is, you do not want the two to become acquainted,” she said evenly as mortified apologies spilled forth from the boy’s mouth. He was decidedly more careful as he continued down the ridge, but practically sprinted away once he had reached the even terrain of the path.

Byleth remained at her perch a moment more, looking from Ignatz’s retreating form back up to the walls of Garreg Mach. It had always been clear to her that she wasn’t quite like other people she had met, that she had never quite understood the way that others acted and how they seemed to experience emotions so profoundly. That was fine with her. She might not be human enough herself to be able to appreciate the world in the same way others seemed to, but she was more than capable of protecting her students, who were capable of seeing wonders and joys that eluded her own eyes. And protecting her Golden Deer was exactly what she intended to do for as long as she was entrusted to watch over them.

Chapter Text

Byleth had taken three steps into the monastery grounds proper with her entourage of Golden Deer when a familiar hand clapped her heavily on the back. “Byleth, my lass!” a beaming Alois greeted, loudly enough that it drew the attention of all of her students and several startled passersby. “Welcome back! How’d you find the Red Canyon?”

“With a map,” Byleth responded dryly. Alois stared at her in blank confusion for a moment before it clicked for him and he doubled over in laughter, slapping a hand against his knee. Her students were staring at them both with surprised expressions that Byleth did her best to ignore.

“‘With a map!’ Oh, that’s too funny,” Alois declared when he caught his breath, wiping away tears from the corners of his eyes. “Ha! You know, now that I think about it, your sense of humor reminds me of Captain Jeralt’s. He could have an entire tavern howling!” Byleth managed not to frown at that comparison, but it was a near thing. Even if this jolly knight was the only one that ever seemed to laugh at her quips, nothing had made her doubt her ability to tell jokes quite like Alois saying hers were similar to Jeralt’s. The only thing that saved her from the corners of her mouth twisting downwards was reminding herself that Alois’s opinions on humor couldn’t exactly be trusted. As if on cue to that thought, he suddenly said, “In fact, I just remembered one of his bests! Have I ever told you about the two criminals that were madly in love with each other?”

“Alois.” Her blank statement and stare did nothing to dissuade the knight from continuing.

“They were quite successful at pulling off robberies, even if they were constantly getting distracted with their own acts of PDA. In fact, I hear on their last caper, they made out like bandits!” He howled with laughter again, which died down quickly when he realized no one else had joined him in his mirth. “Made out like bandits!” Alois repeated to the grimacing bunch of students. He knew better than to try to coax a chuckle out of Byleth. “You know, because that can mean pulling in a big haul or, uh…”

“Alois,” Byleth repeated. “My students are weary from the mission and in need of rest and a meal. Perhaps this can wait?”

“Ah, right, of course!” Alois said, back to his chipper self as Byleth ushered the Golden Deer towards the dining hall. “I understand, it’s hard to laugh on an empty stomach. I’ll let the archbishop know you’ve returned. Later then!”

“Our hero,” Claude said under his breath, sending Byleth a sidelong smile.

She followed her students into the dining hall, intent to make sure that there was food available for them even at this odd afternoon hour. She was surprised to hear the busy sounds of several people working in the kitchen, and further surprised when a young face popped around the corner of the kitchen’s doorframe to investigate who had entered the hall. She vaguely recognized the grey hair and freckled face as belonging to one of the students within the Blue Lions house, Ashe.

“Oh, Professor! Hello!” he greeted, a friendly welcoming smile quickly replacing his look of confusion. “We weren’t expecting your class back this early, or else we would have started sooner. Sorry, I hope you don’t mind waiting just a little bit. We’ll have your meal finished soon!”

“We?” Byleth questioned, followed immediately with Claude echoing “Our meal?”

“Yes!” Ashe responded brightly, seemingly in response to both of them. “Our class’s assignment was very mild compared to yours. So some of us thought it would be nice to have a big welcoming meal prepared for you when you returned from traveling! It was Dedue that came up with the idea.”

His name seemed to summon him and suddenly Dedue appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Ashe, dwarfing the smaller boy. He was holding a mixing bowl and wearing an apron over his uniform that had clearly needed to be altered to fit him; the attire didn’t quite match his permanently serious expression. Dedue nodded in greeting and said, “I still had not properly thanked you for saving the life of His Highness at Remire. This seemed like the least that could be done.”

“That was kind of you,” she responded as her students clustered behind her, as if closer proximity to the kitchens would bring the food closer to completion. Byleth could hardly blame them; the rich smells wafting out from the kitchen door threatened to draw even her in.

“No kidding, I feel welcomed already!” Claude agreed. “Any way we can help? Doesn’t seem right to just stand idle while a feast is being prepared for us!”

“Well, that would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?” another voice piped up from within the kitchen. Mercedes appeared briefly in the doorway to greet them and accept the mixing bowl back from Dedue with a grateful smile. “Besides, isn’t there a saying about too many cooks? And Prince Dimitri and that sweet Cyril boy are already being such dears and helping to carry supplies to us! We’ve got it covered here, don’t you worry.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice!” Hilda called out before anyone else could insist on lending a hand. “You guys are the best! I’m going to go change out of these sweaty clothes and clean up so I can really appreciate the food you worked so hard on!”

Hilda’s swift departure following that statement seemed to break a dam, and the rest of the Golden Deer shambled out to see to their own cleaning routine, with several calls of gratitude to the Blue Lions as they left. Byleth watched them leave but remained rooted to her spot. It didn’t feel right to let others take care of her students without lending her aid. Once the last of her class had disappeared out of the dining hall, she slipped her way into the kitchen and wordlessly took a post next to Dedue to help prepare the vegetables that had been lain out. When Ashe moved up to politely protest and insist she take care of herself as well, she silenced him with a blank gaze and set right back to work.

A few minutes later had the last two helpers making an appearance. Dimitri was carrying a large, leaking sack of flour over a shoulder and was so coated in the fine white powder that he looked like the world’s most embarrassed ghost. “My grip on it may have been… a little too tight,” he admitted in a quiet voice when Byleth’s stare lingered on him. He slipped inelegantly back out of the room with a rushed apology and the explanation that he had left a flour trail that he would be remiss not to clean up himself.

Cyril on the other hand, who had carried in a small crate of fresh fruit for Mercedes to use in her baking, had balked to find Byleth at work cooking. He argued for her to leave the task to him and had attempted to wrestle the kitchen knife out of her hands, making him the second person in the world to have tried forcibly taking a blade from her and live (the first being Seteth. Byleth didn’t remember how she had found a dagger as a child or why she had aimlessly wandered the halls of Garreg Mach clutching it in tiny hands, but she did recall the look of pure panic on Seteth’s face when he had spotted her and rushed over to take it out of her grasp). Cyril could be remarkably stubborn, but Byleth was impossible to sway once she had set herself to a task, and the boy finally had to relent. Between the five of them working together, it was less than an hour later that the finished dishes were set and Cyril was sent to summon the Golden Deer to feast.

When Byleth’s class arrived at the dining hall, they were greeted with a fantastic spread already laid out at a long table. There was a large pot of a hearty stew, a wide variety of tender meats, plates of vegetables that Dedue had spiced and seasoned to perfection, a savory pasta dish that Ashe had proudly set out, and countless sweet pastries and delights that Mercedes had prepared. Byleth was glad that no one was in the way of the Golden Deer as they rushed to take their seats, lest they had been at risk of being trampled. She made to slip out of the hall with the rest of the Blue Lion cooks as the students tucked in when Claude called out to them.

“Hey, hey, wait a minute! Don’t think you can prepare something like this and then just sneak out. Come and join us! Yes, Teach, you too!”

It would have been a simple enough thing for her to leave anyway. Certainly the food was tempting and her stomach was empty, but she had put off tempting meals before when work or duty required it. She was practiced in ignoring physical needs while carrying out her responsibilities. But the rest of her students smiled and echoed the invitation and she found herself recalling the pleasantness of their first victory feast after winning the mock battle. As the few Blue Lion students acquiesced and took seats among her house, Byleth allowed her own feet to carry her forward as well.

She observed quietly as the two houses chatted over the food, occupying herself with her own plate. The Kingdom students were getting so many compliments on the meal that Ashe’s freckles were lost amidst a deep blush. Lysithea’s eyes shone bright as she pleaded with Mercedes for her recipe of a particularly sweet strawberry cake, and Raphael was eagerly inviting Dedue to train with him next evening they were both free.

“I’m glad we could feast like this again,” Claude said, voice carrying with practiced ease over the rest of the noise in the hall. Byleth felt as though he were speaking both personally to her as well as the table at large; but then, judging by how the others fell silent and most turned smiling expression towards him, she imagined that that was just a feeling he was able to cultivate in everyone as he spoke. She made a mental note of his charisma and wondered how it would aid him in commanding a battalion or leading a roundtable.

“The first time we gathered like this was to celebrate a victory for the Golden Deer and to praise our Golden Professor,” he paused to wink ostentatiously at her, “…but that hardly seems appropriate this time, given that this meal was provided by our friends from another house and that they have joined us at this very table. Anyone have a suggestion for a new toast?”

Ashe chuckled good naturedly. “You don’t have to worry about us. Just consider us guests here!”

“It’s a very nice thought, but Ashe is right, please don’t trouble yourselves,” Mercedes agreed, smiling brightly.

Claude dramatically clutched a hand over his heart with a shocked expression, as if the very idea appalled him. “Guests? After all the work you put in for this feast - which is delicious might I add, my compliments to the chefs - if anything we’re the guests! That simply wouldn’t do. No, I say let this be a feast commemorating a blossoming friendship between houses.” His face lit up as if struck by inspiration and he raised his mug, lifting himself slightly out of his seat to hold it high above the table. “To the Golden Deer and the Blue Lions, and to their Viridian Feast!”

Hilda scoffed at his side. “Viridian? You can’t just decide that! Hmm, how about… Emerald Feast? I think that sounds better! Don’t you agree, Marianne?”

“What?” Marianne asked, startled and slightly panicked at being called. “Oh, I… I suppose emeralds are nice…”

“How about Verdant Feast?” Ignatz supplied, voice sounding dreamy. “It matches well with the concept of blending gold and blue together, as well as bringing to mind the lush fields that these vegetables would have been harvested from.”

“That sounds nice!” Ashe piped up. “If we’re all throwing out suggestions though, maybe… um Chartreuse Feast? Hmm, maybe that’s a bit much…”

Claude fell heavily back into his seat with a fake pout. “Hey now, what’s with this mutiny? Viridian Feast is a perfectly fine name! Teach, help me out!”

He turned to her with an upturned brow, clearly inviting her into the game. She remained silent and grabbed hold of her own mug, regarding him with her usual blank stare over the rim as she took her time draining the drink. She set it back down after a long moment, having never broken eye contact with the house leader.

“…Green Feast,” she deadpanned at last. She was gratified to earn several startled chuckles around the table, and Claude looked devilishly pleased at successfully dragging her into the group’s antics.

“Very poetic, Teach! Well, whatever we’re calling it, let’s dig in!”

It was late in the evening when Byleth slipped out from the dining hall, feeling pleased in a way that couldn’t entirely be credited to mere satisfaction from a good meal. Seeing her students so lively seemed to have had some effect on her own mood. It was gratifying to see them all in high spirits and still alive to tell the tales of their mission.

Sothis chuckled at her, picking through the strands of her feelings. “And yet, you are so eager now to return to solitude. I can tell that you are growing quite fond of those little ones, but your escape from their company brings you such relief. Does being around others truly tire you out so?”

Byleth wanted to deny any such growing fondness until it occurred to her that the girl just may be right. She couldn’t be entirely sure, but if wishing to keep others alive and to see them happy and grow into their potential was indicative of fondness, then Sothis may well be speaking the truth. An odd thought, that another may know Byleth better than she knew herself. But also strangely comforting, that anyone may understand her at all, especially if Byleth herself didn’t. Perhaps she should be grateful to have a resident within her mind that could explain her own thoughts to her.

So instead she thought, Yes, I suppose it does. I am not used to this. I do not dislike their company, but it is… easier to be alone.

Sothis hummed in thought at that, and Byleth could sense the smile that was alight on her face. “Well, you’re never truly alone anymore, now that I am with you. How fortunate you are!”

Now that Byleth had no trouble denying teasingly, and she had to fight to keep the corner of her mouth from twitching up in amusement as Sothis sputtered indignantly at her.

She paused with a hand on the doorknob to her room as she noticed light spilling out from the crack under Rhea’s own door. Byleth had meant to report to Rhea immediately upon her return as she always did with missions, but with a jolt it occurred to her that she had forgotten completely. She let her hand fall and approached Rhea’s room to knock lightly against the wood, guilt dripping coldly through her.

If Rhea was upset with her for her tardiness, it did not show. When she opened the door, her expression beamed with overwhelming warmth as Byleth bowed shortly in greeting. “It is good to see you have returned, my dear child. Will you come in for a spell? I am most interested to hear from you regarding your mission.”

Byleth allowed herself to be pulled into the room and guided to the lounge at the foot of Rhea’s luxurious bed. Rhea bade her to sit and took her own spot next to her on the cushioned seat, turned at an angle so their knees practically touched as Rhea took her hands in her own and beamed contentedly at her ward. “It brings me great joy to hear that you have been getting closer to your students,” Rhea said, leaning in slightly as if she were confiding in her. She squeezed Byleth’s fingers gently within her own. “I have no doubt that you will be able to lead your flock down a righteous path, and that they will follow you with adoration in their hearts.”

Rhea released one of her hands so that she could tenderly brush a wayward lock of hair back behind Byleth’s ear, which gave Byleth more time to ponder the praise. Rhea often spoke and acted as if she saw the entire world within her ward; Byleth could only continue to push herself in the hope of living up to the woman’s expectations. “Ah, do forgive me, it is late and this is not what you came to discuss.” Rhea let her stray hand fall to again cup Byleth’s palms within her own and intently searched her ward’s eyes as she continued. “Tell me, what of Zanado?”

In the back of her mind, Sothis made a noise of contemplation. “I have to say, I really don’t know what to make of your guardian. She certainly seems to care greatly for you, but there’s something else in her eyes that I can’t figure out…”

Byleth dismissed the girl’s commentary as she fashioned her response. “The mission was successful, and the students handled themselves well in the face of danger. The bandits that plagued Zanado are no more.”

Relief washed over the archbishop’s face at those words. “That is comforting to hear. As the spot where the goddess first alighted to grace this world, it is truly one of the holiest sites in Fódlan. Did you… What did you think of Zanado, my child?”

“And this goddess that she speaks of!” Sothis interjected. “I feel as if I should know more about this, and yet it eludes me completely. So much sounds familiar, and yet… no, no, I do not know anything about a goddess at all!”

That surprised Byleth into a reply, distracting her from responding to Rhea. Really? That is ironic, given that you share the name given to the goddess.

There was silence in Byleth’s head for several seconds following that statement. The response, when it came, was so loud that it set Byleth’s temples ringing painfully.

“WHAT!?”

Chapter Text

Over the past month, Byleth had gotten rather used to having Sothis’s commentary playing out in her head while she went about her day. It was an easy task to ignore the girl as she complained of being bored during Byleth’s lectures, or as she made some teasing remark aimed at the students or Byleth herself.

It was decidedly less easy to ignore her now as waves of emotion undiscernible to Byleth accompanied the girl’s distressed yelling. “I have the same name as the goddess and you did not see fit to share this information with me? What were you thinking!? You fool!”

Byleth shook her head slightly, as if it would dislodge the screaming occupant from her mind. “I thought you knew…”

She only realized she had spoken aloud when Rhea frowned, eyes searching her own questioningly. “Knew what, my child?”

“You assumed that despite knowing full well that my memories eluded me? Useless! Of all beings that I could be tied to, why you?”

Why me, indeed? Byleth responded internally this time, a flash of something – ah, wait, it was anger, she recognized that one – welling up within her. She glanced pointedly at Rhea, who was still gazing at her with concern and confusion. If you are truly the goddess… then why not manifest within her? I believe she has been waiting for you for a very long time…

“Then she can wait a bit longer!” Sothis shot back. “Leave, quickly now! I need to figure out what this means. And don’t say something that we will regret!”

Was she really asking her to keep this a secret from Rhea? She had to know that Byleth would never do that. “I-”

“No!” Sothis shouted, “Shut up, don’t!”

Byleth tried again, “I believe that-”

“Byleth, please.” Byleth paused. The anger had drained from Sothis’s words, and her voice had practically shaken with her plea. She didn’t sound like a commanding goddess, but like… well, like a scared young girl. Byleth felt her own pulse skipping in sympathy to Sothis’s anxiety.

…Damn it. Damn it.

“…I apologize, Rhea, I believe that I am more tired than I had thought. May I find you in the morning to finish my report?”

Rhea blinked at her. Sothis had fallen so silent that Byleth imagined she was holding her breath. “Ah, of course, my child.” Byleth nodded in acknowledgment and rose from the lounge. Rhea rose with her, still holding her hands within her own, and drew her ward’s attention back to her once more as she searched her face with an intense gaze. “Just indulge me with one last question, if you would. Did you… feel as if you recognized Zanado?”

Byleth hesitated and then nodded once more, thinking of the strange sense of familiarity the canyon instilled in her and the beings that she almost could have pictured there. The concern that had been in Rhea’s expression washed away and the archbishop beamed, pleased. She gently squeezed Byleth’s hands and leaned in, almost touching their foreheads together. “Oh, my dearest one… I cannot express how happy I am to hear that. I am sure that you must find all this confusing now, but I promise you, one day all will be clear, and you will know who you truly are. For now, rest well…”

When Byleth’s hands were released, she bowed shortly in farewell and retreated, needing to extend some effort to depart at a normal pace. She kept her eyes forward and did not break stride until she had entered her own room. The moment the door shut behind her, she leaned back against it and sank to the floor. She brought her knees up against her chest and dug the heels of her palms against her brow, letting out a shaky breath.

She curled further in on herself as she sat there, doing her best to simply… process.

Byleth had not been concerned about Sothis’s presence before. Why be bothered by one more thing that made her strange but allowed her to better serve her duty? The girl on the throne had not been causing her any real problems, and the time travel ability had saved not only her own skin, but the life of one under her protection.

But if Sothis truly was THE Sothis… why her? Archbishop Rhea was full of devotion, a true believer, infinitely more worthy. Byleth had tried to listen to the scriptures and the sermons, but the words never reached her, never buoyed her up the way she had seen the masses lifted. They always sounded… not quite right, as if the priests were describing a color that everyone in the room could see but her. If the goddess were returning, she could pick any number of faithful devotee to attach to other than the unmoved, unnatural ward of the archbishop.

Absolutely anyone else that would have actually realized who the mysterious girl was and would have gone straight to Rhea, rather than an unworthy soul that would lie to the archbishop’s face.

“…You had me worried there,” Sothis said at last, cutting into Byleth’s thoughts. “I really thought you were about to reveal us. I’m glad you were not so foolish.”

The words were unkind, but Byleth could feel that the girl was still shaken. It was likely the closest she could get to saying thank you at the moment. Byleth hadn’t realized just how distrustful Sothis was of the archbishop, but she had enough to unpack without worrying over that.

Byleth shook her head, but the motion was more resigned than dismissive. “I will not keep this a secret indefinitely. I will tell Rhea.”

Sothis sighed. “Do as you must. I have no choice but to trust you. But we should try to figure things out on our own first before revealing too much. There must be a reason why I am here now, and why with you.”

“…Are you truly the goddess?”

She hesitated before answering that. “I believe so. Think of Zanado! I believe the affect that place had on you was a result of my lost memories bleeding into your own. If that is the place that the goddess… that I first alighted at, then that makes sense, doesn’t it?” She made a noise of frustration. “Oh, this is beyond aggravating! Why can’t I remember anything? If I could just…” Her sentence was broken by a yawn, and she tried again. “If I could just…”

Sothis’s voice trailed off and was replaced with the sound of gentle snoring, as if the attempt at gathering her memories had tired her out entirely. Byleth remained where she was for a few seconds more before rising to get ready for bed herself. Hopefully with sleep, everything would start to be a little more clear.

During the following week, Sothis was asleep more often than not. Byleth could sense the girl’s growing frustration during her sparse waking hours as she attempted time and again to pull up any memory or clue buried in her mind as to her past, but succeeding only in draining herself of energy and earning them both a dull headache.

Byleth kept herself busy with her responsibilities as a professor, working to distract herself from the goddess in her head and from her dishonesty with Rhea. She was pleased with the progress of her Golden Deer in class and had started carving out time to work with each of them one on one with developing their skills further. But when she had announced at the end of class one day that her students should feel free to seek her out at any time for help or instructions, Lysithea had scowled at her.

“And how would we do that?” the young mage pointed out. “You realize that you’re the only professor without an office and that students aren’t allowed on the third floor of the monastery where you reside, right? It makes you a hard one to run into, Professor.”

She had a point, and even with Byleth’s frequent patrols around the grounds, it could be difficult for a student to come across her. With that in mind, she sought out Seteth in his office that afternoon.

As he often was, Seteth was at his desk , nose buried in paperwork. Flayn had taken up a chair in the corner of his office, a cup of sweetened tea nearby as she read through a book with fanciful gold lettering on the cover. She glanced up from the pages with interest as Byleth entered and took a seat at her brother’s desk.

Seteth’s eyes flicked up at her only briefly and he hummed an absentminded greeting as he finished penning the line he was on, quill darting smoothly against the page in his tight, curving handwriting. His quill did not leave the paper until he at last lifted it to dot a period at the end of his sentence and set the instrument aside. He leaned forward to rest his chin on steepled fingers as he met her gaze with that stern-yet-warm expression she had grown used to. “Good afternoon, Byleth. Do you have need of me?”

She nodded. “Is there another office available?”

Seteth blinked, apparently surprised by the question. “Hm? No, not at this time. Do you have need of one?”

“I would like for the students to be able to see me outside of class if they need assistance. Could they be given permission to visit my quarters then?”

He frowned deeply at that suggestion. “Absolutely not, not when you are directly next to the archbishop’s own room. We cannot be too careful when it comes to her safety, and frankly, you do have some… overly inquisitive students within your house.”

Byleth immediately wished to defend her Golden Deer, but had to admit to herself that she could easily picture Claude being too tempted by the opportunity to snoop through Rhea’s quarters. Instead she asked, “So what can be done?”

Seteth looked thoughtful. “There is an unoccupied bedroom beside the student’s dormitories that was intended for a professor’s use. I suppose we could convert that into an office for you, if you wish…”

“Why not simply have me move into it?” she suggested.

The way Seteth stared at her made her wonder if she had said something odd. “That… is an option. Though the room is not nearly as spacious or comfortable as your current quarters, of course. It would allow you to have students visit anytime that is not inappropriately late, but..”

She rose from her seat decisively. “How soon can I move in?”

He hesitated for a moment before opening a drawer to his desk and rummaging around. “As soon as you are ready, I suppose. The room has been kept clean and I have the key around here somewhere…”

Seteth made a quiet noise of triumph and at last took a small brass key from within the drawer, handing it over to Byleth. “Then I will take it now. Thank you, Seteth.”

“Oh!” Flayn called, bouncing up from her seat and setting her book aside. “A new room next to the students sounds so exciting! Do you need assistance moving your things? I can help!” She didn’t wait for an answer before bounding out of the office, footsteps disappearing down the hall in the direction of the stairs. Byleth nodded in thanks to the advisor before moving to follow the girl.

“Oh, and Byleth?” Seteth called before she could leave. She looked over her shoulder at him. “It is good that you are taking your responsibilities to the students to heart, but do be certain that you take care of yourself as well, yes?”

She nodded once and swept from the room. She would continue to make sure she got enough sleep and sustenance to proceed with her work, after all.

With Flayn’s help, it took only two trips to move what Byleth needed into her new quarters. In any case, all she had that she could bring with her were her papers, a few books that she wanted to keep as reference in designing her lessons (Jeralt’s gifted tactics primer included), and her tea set. Her rack of training weapons she would need to leave behind; even if there was space in the utilitarian dorm for the rack, there certainly would not be enough space left afterwards for her to train without breaking something. No matter; Byleth would be closer to the training grounds in her new room now and could use that for her practice sessions.

Flayn set her last load of books on top of Byleth’s small desk and flopped back onto the bed with a huff. “Whew! It is quite a trek here from your previous quarters. I am grateful now that you own so few things!” She frowned and sat up slightly, pushing into the mattress experimentally with her elbows. “Although I imagine you might regret leaving your old bed. This one is… quite firm.”

Byleth sat down heavily on the other end of the bed, purposefully causing Flayn to bounce up a couple of inches and fall back in a disarrayed heap as she let out a squawk of surprise that was followed by a small fit of giggling. “It seems fine to me,” Byleth replied, only just managing to keep her face straight as Flayn’s chuckling died down.

The girl sat up more fully to beam at Byleth, hugging her legs against her chest and resting her chin on her knees. “You know,” Flayn said, eyes shining. “You seem different lately. More lively. Like everything that you keep hidden deep down is coming closer to the surface…”

Byleth blinked in surprise at that and turned her face away, unsure how to respond. She didn’t know that there was much to her at all, and what was there didn’t seem likely to be something to be celebrated.

“Oh! Did I embarrass you?” Flayn teased, misreading her reaction. “Do not worry, Cousin! It is nice! Maybe I will even get to see you smile one of these days…” She leaned forward further so that she could take Byleth’s face in her hands and use her thumbs to pull the corners of her mouth upwards in a facsimile of a grin. Whatever the resultant expression was, combined with Byleth’s blank gaze, set Flayn to giggling again. The noise warmed Byleth’s chest. The girl had a way of making her feel like there just may be some goodness in her after all.

Lysithea was the first of her students to visit for a personal lesson after Byleth had announced her new quarters to the class. Byleth offered her a seat at the small table in her room and set to work preparing tea for them. She poured them each a cup as she helped the mage work through an idea for a gambit she had had, but noticed that Lysithea only took one sip of the Seiros blend before frowning and setting it aside as they continued to discuss. After the cup had gone untouched for a full ten minutes, Byleth wordlessly got up, disposed of what was left in the teapot while Lysithea watched with a furrowed brow, and set a new blend to brew of the sweet apple variety that she kept for Flayn.

Any embarrassment that Lysithea had at her professor preparing an entirely different tea for her was discarded after her first sugary sip, and their discussion only picked up from there.

After that, Byleth paid a visit to a merchant in town to pick up several more blends before she was visited by anyone else.

Lorenz was next. He made small talk as she prepared a blend that she had forgotten the name for, but it had been expensive and it smelled faintly floral. The noble seemed quite pleased with it as she presented him with a cup, if the fact that he spent the next half hour complimenting it and discussing the intricate method of cultivating different types of tea leaves was anything to go by. At least when Byleth unsubtly changed the subject to a schedule of Reason magic practice that she was assigning him to maintain, he was much more open to the suggestion than she would have expected from him.

Hilda enjoyed the same flowery tea that Byleth had originally prepared for Lorenz, and ended her visit with a promise to make something to help give a personal touch to Byleth’s new room (oh, but it would be so hard to find the time, if only her professor could find it in her to assign fewer training sessions and weekend chores…?). Raphael appreciated the spicy ginger tea she prepared for him, and Ignatz had been perfectly pleased with her usual Seiros blend. Marianne she still couldn’t coax into paying her a visit, but Byleth did send a small baked treat snatched from the kitchens to the timid girl’s room, along with a note of encouragement on her progress in the healing arts. With a grin that was just a little too wide, Claude had claimed that the sweet apple blend she provided him with had been the best tea ever served. For some reason, the lie made her absolutely determined to figure out what his actual favorite tea was before the year was out.

Leonie apparently had other plans for her own session. “So, Professor!” she called out one afternoon, catching Byleth alone after class. “You know how you said you would work with us anytime, anywhere?”

Byleth blinked at her, wary of her wording. “Yes?”

“So how about this evening out in town?”

The corner of Byleth’s mouth tugged slightly downwards. “That is not exactly what I meant.”

Leonie tsked, undeterred. “Oh come on, Professor! I hear studying in new places helps the material stick in your mind better. Meet me at the Shining Grace at 6, okay? Thanks, see you then!”

And then she had hurried off before Byleth could argue further.

The Shining Grace proved to be difficult to find. The first few people that Byleth stopped in the street in town to ask for directions hadn’t heard of it. The first person she found that did know of it could only narrow it down to being somewhere near the far edge of town. Byleth had made up her mind to tell Leonie to meet her in her quarters like the rest of the class by the time she had finally received reliable directions and found the place.

The tavern was an old, run down building, one of the many inns that operated by catering to travelers during pilgrimage season and only just scraped by for the rest of the year. Inside, only a quarter of the available tables were occupied, and a fine layer of dust had settled on everything but the bar, which saw just enough activity to have patches incidentally brushed clean by the sleeves of patrons. The stairway leading upwards had hanging portraits of the four saints, and above the entrance was a large painting depicting the Goddess, smiling serenely with her arms outstretched as if to offer a blessing to any standing before her.

A very graceful image. I do not believe the artist ever met you, Byleth thought to Sothis, who was in one of her rare waking hours. She received a mental image of Sothis blowing a raspberry at her in response.

She spotted movement at a table tucked into a far corner and turned to see Leonie standing up and waving to get her attention. Another figure seated across from her glanced up from his mug mid-drink to see who she was waving to, only to choke on his current mouthful upon seeing Byleth.

Keeping her own face blank, Byleth made her way across the room to join Leonie and Captain Jeralt.

Leonie pulled out a chair next to herself for Byleth as she approached. “Hey, Professor!” she greeted as the woman took her seat. “I was starting to worry you weren’t going to show up.”

Byleth glanced from Jeralt, who had finally managed to stop coughing on his drink, and back to Leonie. “I came to meet you here for an extracurricular lesson. Not as a social event.”

Leonie gestured for the lone barkeep, who approached their table with two drinks for the women. “Of course. But since my mentor just happens to be here, it only makes sense to have him join us, too. I could really benefit from a joint lesson with you two!”

Byleth briefly investigated the ale that had been placed before her, which was an unappealing yellow color and smelled a bit like a ripe gutter, before turning an accusing gaze at Jeralt. The captain shrugged at her and held up his own mug for a refill before the barkeep could leave. “Don’t give me that look, I didn’t know about this either. This is where I always come when I get a free evening. Last place in town that won’t kick me out over a misunderstanding with my tab. I had no idea either of you were going to be showing up!”

Leonie put on a poor attempt at an innocent smile. Byleth suddenly recalled seeing Leonie taking on Claude’s assigned stable duty last weekend and connected the dots. The information on the captain’s schedule and this plan were likely provided from the house leader as his end of that deal.

The captain regarded the two of them for a moment before shrugging in resignation and taking a large swig of his refilled drink, as if to brace himself. Leonie grinned triumphantly and mimicked him with her own large gulp from her mug, almost immediately gagging as it burned her throat. Byleth suspected that it was a herculean effort on her part not to spit it back out. “Okay,” Leonie said, eyes still watering slightly, “to start, I wanted to revisit some tactics for horseback combat that the professor mentioned in class the other day…”

The scenario that Leonie recounted was one that Byleth had modified from a chapter in the tactics primer that Jeralt had given her on her first day teaching. He let slip a knowing grin to Byleth as he recognized it before he chipped in with his own take.

Byleth let the captain take the lead on discussing cavalry strategies, recognizing that he had the greater experience fighting on horseback. She relaxed further back into her chair and watched as they talked, and at last took an experimental sip of her own drink, finding it to taste about as unappealing as it smelled.

The alcohol had left Leonie very animated as she talked and posed her questions, grinning widely and gesturing broadly. At least until she was working on her third drink of the evening, at which point her energy seemed to disappear abruptly. She leaned perilously over the table as Jeralt’s lecture on horseslayer lances dragged on, blearily blinking at a knot in the wood of the table as she struggled to fight off sleep.

Jeralt at last took notice of his apprentice’s lack of input and quirked an eyebrow at her. “Lightweight, huh?”

Leonie mumbled a garbled reply and sunk a few inches closer to using the table as a pillow. Byleth mentally retraced the long journey back to the monastery dorms she would have to take while supporting the girl’s weight.

The captain chuckled. “Well, you’re still young. You’ll get over it.” Byleth shot him a stern look as she coaxed a glass of water into her student’s hand and he held up his palms defensively. “Hey, joking, sorry. Trust me, the headache she’ll have in the morning should keep her dry for a while. You don’t approve much of drinking, huh, Professor?” he ventured, glancing to her cup which was still half full from the first round.

“Not when it affects those under my care,” she said, with a pointed look to where Leonie had given up her fight against drowsiness and drifted off, arms splayed awkwardly around her on the table. She took another sip of her own ale and added, “I have shared in a glass of wine with Rhea from time to time.”

She watched carefully as his mouth formed a grim line at the mention of the archbishop’s name. Jeralt drained his cup in the silence that followed, gathering his thoughts. He reached across the table to take the unresponsive Leonie’s glass as well and poured what remained there into his own drink. “Probably hard to go from that to this swill. The archbishop only keeps the finest.” He seemed to be trying to keep his voice even, but there was a clear trace of bitterness there.

He noticed Byleth staring at him and let out a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry the kid dragged you out here. I’m sure there’s plenty you’d rather be doing than sharing bottom shelf drinks with a dastard that you hate.”

“…I do not hate you,” Byleth refuted hesitatingly.

Jeralt let out a short humorless laugh, keeping his eyes down at the mug within his hand. “You don’t sound entirely convinced of that yourself.”

Byleth let her eyes drift down to her own mug and slowly shook her head. “I do not know how to put it into words,” she admitted. Peripherally, she could see that Jeralt had looked back up at her expectantly and seemed to be waiting for her to continue, but she felt at a loss for how to translate her thoughts.

Sothis sighed sympathetically in the back of her head. “Having trouble navigating your own mind again? You are lucky that I reside within it. Let me see… I believe that you regret the complications of your life recently. You thought you knew your place in the world and now you find yourself surrounded by mysteries and things that do not make sense. And to some extent, you view the captain to be the locus of that uncertainty, or, at the very least, a large contributing factor. There’s more going on, but that’s a start, at least. …Does that sound about right?”

Byleth tapped her finger against the side of her drink as she mulled that over, before finally sending a quick mental wave of gratitude towards the girl and raising her eyes back up to meet Jeralt’s gaze. “My life used to be very straightforward,” she said, picking the words slowly and deliberately. “Simple objectives. Nothing to question. No charges to look after and guide despite the fact that I am quite unqualified to do so,” she added, tilting her head towards the snoozing Leonie beside her. “And now you. I do not understand you at all. I do not know why you are here or why Rhea seems so distressed by your presence.” Feeling emboldened either by the drink or by the fact that she had already said so much, she continued, “And I do not know why you seem to be so curious about me.”

She had signed up for all the curiosity towards herself that she could deal with when she had chosen to lead the Golden Deer house on an inexplicable whim, after all. It was enough that Claude seemed determined to pick apart all the details on her that he could find. Additional scrutiny could only lead to more people discovering what everyone else claimed true of the Crimson Saint: her actions must be just, directed as they were by the holy Archbishop Rhea, but there something utterly wrong with the being herself. That if she had been under the guidance of anyone other than that divine woman, Byleth would have been a monster.

There was nothing good the captain would find if he kept trying to figure her out, and the sooner he realized that and left her alone, the better.

Jeralt considered her for a long moment before sighing and finishing off the dregs in his cup. It was his sixth drink, Byleth noted, not including the amount he had pilfered from Leonie. When his face reemerged from behind the mug, it was with a small hopeful grin. “Just resentment, then, huh? I can work with that. That’s fair enough.” Byleth stared, but he didn’t elaborate on that. He simply moved on to the next thought. “Let’s just say I left the Church for personal reasons, I came back for personal reasons, Lady Rhea is probably distressed by my return for personal reasons, and as for why I am, as you phrased it, curious about you…”

“…Personal reasons?” Byleth ventured, earning a chuckle from the captain.

He waved a hand dismissively and looked at a point somewhere over Byleth’s shoulder rather than look her in the eye as he continued. “Nah, nah, nothing personal. I’d heard about you, you know, when I was working as a mercenary. I mostly avoided places where the Church had a heavy presence, but I still heard tales about their so-called Crimson Saint. But you’re…” he focused back on her, suddenly, sharply, and intensely searched her face. “…Let’s just say you’re not at all what I expected to find. I’m not trying to bother you here, but yeah, I am curious.”

Jeralt pushed his chair back and rose to his feet, surprisingly steady considering the amount of alcohol he had consumed. “That’s enough a that, though. Been nice talking with you, Professor, but I should probably be heading out now. Make sure my apprentice makes it back to her bed instead of waking up in a ditch, alright?”

Jeralt nodded to her in farewell, expression once again inscrutable, and turned on his heel towards the door.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you this, but he’s lying,” Sothis declared as the door swung shut behind the departing captain. “Remember Remire? He was quite interested in you before your identity as the Crimson Saint was revealed. We should keep an eye on that one.”

He is hiding something, Byleth agreed. But that is not the only thing that is bothering me…

“Oh?”

Byleth glanced towards the bar, where the lone barkeep stood wiping a glass with a dirty rag and eyeing her conspicuously. She looked back down at the table, barren except for the empty mugs, a few puddles of spilled liquid, and a sleeping Leonie.

“…He did not pay,” Byleth noted aloud.

Chapter Text

When a knock came at Byleth’s door the morning after she had received the month’s mission briefing, Byleth was expecting to find a church messenger with additional details, or possibly one of her Golden Deer students looking to pick her brain over tea once again before the day’s classes started.

What she found instead was a pale-faced Ashe, eyes wild and breathing hard.

“Oh, Professor, you’re still here! Is it true? Your mission in the Kingdom, with the rebellion led by…” He trailed off, unable to say the name.

Byleth considered him in silence. Her image of Ashe was of a smiling, friendly boy with flour caked under his nails and always with an encouraging word to share, an image frozen in her mind from when he helped cook the feast for her students upon returning from their first mission. The Ashe before her now looked haunted and shaken, fingers trembling with anxious energy.

“Come inside,” she instructed, leaving her door wide open in invitation as she stepped back into her room. Byleth walked with purpose to her tea set as Ashe hesitated, standing frozen in place, before finally crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him. “Have a seat,” she prompted with her back still turned to him. After a moment’s pause, she heard his footsteps coming further into the room, followed by the scrape of one of her chairs by the tea table being pulled out.

She didn’t know what kind of tea he might like, but when she heard him anxiously drumming his fingers on the table, she settled on brewing chamomile. The tea merchant had claimed it was a calming blend.

A small, reflexive smile of gratitude flitted across Ashe’s face as Byleth set a cup in front of him, there and gone, fleeing as his brow again pinched in worry. Byleth settled into the seat across from him and took a sip of her own drink, waiting for him to speak.

Ashe drew in a deep breath, took a sip of the chamomile tea, and collected his thoughts. “Something’s wrong, Professor. They’re saying that Lonato is leading an insurrection in Faerghus, but there has to be some mistake! Lonato… he’s my adoptive father. He brought me and my little siblings off the street and into his home, out of no motive but kindness. He’s a good man, Professor, he wouldn’t do this!”

He looked up beseechingly at Byleth, who met his gaze blankly. “I cannot change the facts, Ashe. The report is clear that Lord Lonato is the one instigating the rebellion against the church. My mission is to assist the Knights of Seiros in dealing with him.”

He flinched as if she had moved to strike him. “Please, I have to believe there’s another way! Let me come with you, I can talk to him! I’m sure that if we can just discuss things with him, he’ll lay down his arms and no one will have to die!”

Byleth considered the boy in silence for a long moment. She wondered briefly what she would do in his situation, if an army was marching to execute Rhea. But she knew the answer to that immediately: she would stand and tear apart the entire damn army, or be slain trying.

“I will allow you to accompany us, Ashe,” she said, holding up a palm before he could speak. “However, before you agree, I need you to understand something. If Lord Lonato listens to you and surrenders, I will have no cause to hurt him. He will be brought to Garreg Mach to face judgement. If he refuses to lay down arms, then I will kill him. If you try to stop me, I will kill you too.”

Ashe’s already pale face took on a sickly pallor as her words hung heavy in the air. He searched her face as if hoping to find some hesitation or reluctance there. Byleth returned his gaze unflinchingly.

“Alright,” he said after a long, tense moment. And then, with more resolve, “I’m going. I owe it to Lonato for all that he has done for me and my siblings. I can get through to him, I’m sure of it.”

Byleth nodded. “We leave tomorrow morning at dawn. Meet us at the entrance to Garreg Mach, and do not be late.”

Ashe left his tea almost completely untouched as he departed her quarters. That was fine, as Byleth suspected that the rest of the tea time might have been awkward with her death threat looming above him.

Sothis tisked in the back of her mind. “You may have him fooled, but I know your thoughts. You do not want to have to hurt that boy.”

Byleth supposed there was little point in trying to lie to a goddess living in her head. I do not. But I will if I must. She suppressed a sigh and busied herself with cleaning out the teacups. Let us hope it does not come to that.

Byleth had half hoped that Ashe wouldn’t show up the morning that she gathered with her class to join a squad of knights at the entrance to Garreg Mach. It would be a much simpler mission for her to focus solely on cutting down what resistance remained at Gaspard territory without worrying over protecting the boy and to uphold negotiations. But sure enough, Ashe was already there when she arrived with the Golden Deer in tow, looking concerningly small in just his school uniform while surrounded by the gathered Knight of Seiros in their shining armor. His eyes, however, were still burning with that resolve that he had been holding since leaving her quarters.

She nodded to him in acknowledgement as she strode past to join Catherine at the head of the group. Byleth was inwardly grateful to see that her own students took him into their folds as they marched out. They drew him into their conversations, their voices a little too loud and laughter just a touch forced. She suspected they had heard about why he was joining them and were hoping to keep his mind off of the upcoming confrontation.

A touching effort, and Ashe put on a weak smile for them, but he never quite lost his haunted expression.

Ashe grew even more anxious on the day that they entered Gaspard territory. He caught up to walk beside Byleth and Catherine as they drew ever closer to his former home, either growing exhausted of the other students’ attempts to keep his spirits up or wanting to stay in sight to ensure Byleth remembered her promise to him.

As if she could forget allowing him to carry the weight of his father’s survival on his shoulders.

“We should be getting close now,” Ashe noted, eyes tracing the familiar roadside scenery. When he turned to face her, Byleth could still see that spark of resolve in his eyes, even clouded as they were by his worry. “Professor, thank you for letting me come. I know you don’t know him, but trust me when I say that Lonato is a good man. I’m sure we can still solve this peacefully.”

Catherine frowned at him with an uncharacteristically uneasy air. “Ashe, I appreciate what you’re trying to accomplish here, but I don’t want your hopes to be unreasonably high. Lord Lonato has… deep grievances towards the Church. If Lady Rhea had any expectations that this could go peacefully, she wouldn’t have sent me and Byleth here.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ashe asked, brow pinched in concern.

She shot a look to Byleth as if asking for help, but she was just as lost on her meaning as the student was. True, both women were far more skilled with a weapon that with words, but Catherine seemed to be referring to something else.

There wasn’t time to ponder further before thick fog roiled in around them from the woods and the ambush started.

The figures that burst through the trees to attack like fully formed ghosts birthed from the mist were not trained knights. Their stances were sloppy, very few had armor of any kind, and the weapons they brandished were hastily made, or in some cases, repurposed farming tools. The militia had determination, certainly; that much was apparent from their willingness to take on the Knights of Seiros, but they lacked expertise.

Catherine and the Knights that had accompanied them were cutting through the forces almost as soon as they came within eyesight. Typically, Byleth would have been just as effective against such untrained opponents, but she found her attention divided towards her students.

Byleth was proud of the progress her Golden Deer had made over the last month in the academy. She saw the tangible results of their efforts with each trip she took with them to the training grounds. Despite the fog and the confusion of the ambush, she was expecting greatness from them in this battle. What she hadn’t been expecting was their hesitation in fighting the militia.

Byleth had been certain several times that she would need to reach for the power that Sothis had granted her when a student’s reluctance to fight civilians almost led to them taking a heavy blow, but so far had managed to save that power. Though there were close calls, she was relieved to see the students still pulling through.

She hadn’t realized how closely she had been watching her charges until a hand grabbed roughly onto her braid and Catherine yanked her painfully back, only narrowly saving her from a blast of fire magic.

“Watch yourself, there!” the knight chastised, letting go of her hair to take a swing at an enemy that had gotten too close.

Byleth rubbed at her aching scalp and made a noise of acknowledgment, trusting that her students could take care of themselves as she refocused on her own battle. She assisted Catherine with taking out the man she had locked in combat, before rushing into the shrouded copse of trees that the magic attack had originated from.

The mage she found within the woods was a determined foe. Even as his guard was cut down by the Knights of Seiros that had followed by Byleth’s side, he stood before her bravely. If the way his voice grated with hatred as he condemned the followers of the Central Church for the suffering of his lord was any indication, the fine trembling in his limbs was born of rage, not fear.

That mattered little to Byleth. His anger could not steel his neck as she lunged forward with her blade.

His body had barely hit the ground when the fog drew back from the battlefield like a curtain drawn back from a stage. The revealed forces were smaller in number than the ambush had made it seem; they had clearly been using the magically created mist to create an advantage for themselves. Even with the loss of that gambit, the remaining militia continued to advance, unwilling to back down.

Byleth scanned the revealed terrain. She doubted these soldiers would stop fighting until their leader fell, and… there. Further along the road they had been traversing was an old figure astride a warhorse, recently polished armor gleaming in the sun that shone down unimpeded with no fog to hide it. Byleth locked eyes with Catherine, tilted her head in the direction of the lord, and watched as the knight nodded in grim understanding, tightening her grip on the blazing relic Thunderbrand. They needed no words to reach the same conclusion.

Ashe had remained nearby throughout the battle and hurried over when Byleth gestured for him, apparently having been waiting for the call. “We’re charging for Lord Lonato,” she informed him. “If you still want to try talking to him, this is your only chance.”

“Take me to him,” Ashe agreed. “He’s a good man, he’ll listen. We can end this without anyone else needing to die.”

Byleth nodded. She sent a knight to deliver the message to her students to stay on the defensive and protect themselves and then her group was off at a run, the Knights of Seiros holding off the militia as she and Catherine led the advance towards the old lord in command.

Lord Lonato scowled at their approach, eyes reflecting the red gleam from Thunderbrand’s glowing Crest Stone as he strode his horse forward to intercept them. “Thunderstrike Cassandra!” Lonato shouted, voice loud and clear over the din of battle. His narrowed eyes hesitated only briefly on Ashe before the weight of his condemning gaze was aimed at Byleth. “And the Central Church’s bloody executioner. The goddess is truly on my side, to allow me to be the one to bring her judgement upon you two vile murderers!”

“Hoo boy,” Sothis supplied. “I most certainly do not approve of leading townsfolk on a doomed mission for the sake of a grudge. He seems to know you, have you met before?”

No, Byleth thought back, but with some uncertainty. Something about the shape of Lonato’s brow and the piercing blue eyes beneath was oddly familiar…

“Lonato!” Ashe called, finally capturing his adoptive father’s attention. “Whatever your reason is for doing this, it’s wrong to drag the citizens into it! Please surrender, we can still talk this out!”

The lord shook his head, expression unchanged. “Ashe, I wished you not to have any part with this, but I will not stand down now. Not after all the lies the Central Church has spread. Not after they murdered my son!” He jabbed his lance towards Catherine, and then Byleth. “And certainly not when the woman who handed over Christophe and the woman that brought down the axe stand before me!”

Byleth blinked. Axe? It had been a while since she had used an… oh. Oh.

~~~

The room in which Byleth sat on a crude wooden bench pushed up against the wall, sharpening a hefty axe rhythmically, was far removed from the Garreg Mach that visitors typically saw in every sense of the phrase. It was underground, tucked into a far corner of the monastery’s dungeon, lit with torches rather than the sun’s light that shone on the gleaming halls above. The walls were old and dirty stone, crafted for practicality rather than to awe. The air smelled not of incense but of mildew, and a coppery tang that lingered no matter how thoroughly the floor was scrubbed or the indented block at the center of the room was cleaned.

It wasn’t a room that many would be willing to step into. In fact, there were many that stepped into it unwillingly.

A knock on the reinforced door alerted her of the two guards’ return only mere moments before they threw it open and entered, holding a gaunt and dirty man between them. Byleth set her whetstone aside and rose to her feet with axe in hand as they entered. “Here we are,” the guard on the left declared, letting go of the prisoner’s arm while he turned to lock the door. “Last one for the day.”

The right guard grunted in agreement and shoved the man forward before he leaned back against the wall, disinterestedly taking up his post beside the door. The prison guards were generally content to let Byleth take over for the rest. Blood was difficult to wash out of their armor.

The prisoner, now standing on his own, lifted his head slowly to gaze at her with piercing blue eyes below a prominent brow. “You look too young for this,” he noted, voice raspy from disuse after the weeks he had spent in a cell.

Byleth was in fact seventeen, but felt no need to supplement him with this fact. Seteth had argued much the same thing when Rhea had assigned her to execute the recent insurgents that had plotted for her assassination, but the archbishop had insisted that her ward grow familiar with every aspect of carrying out the goddess’s justice. Byleth remained silent as the man continued to regard her.

The prisoner was clearly trying to force himself to keep his eyes on her face, but his gaze kept flicking to the axe in her hands and the block behind her. He swallowed deeply, as if to push down his fear. “Funny. For some reason, I was picturing that it would be Cassandra in here to bring down the axe.” He laughed, humorlessly and raggedly, the noise sounding closer to a sob. “I suppose she may as well have.”

Byleth inwardly hoped that he wouldn’t start crying. Prisoners who fought and screamed and kicked and resisted, that she understood how to deal with. She had needed to overpower several to get them on the block long enough to bring her axe down on their necks. Crying, though? She had never really known how to deal with it when someone started crying.

“When you are ready,” Byleth said simply, gesturing to the block with her free hand. Sometimes giving them the choice of walking to it on their own was enough to prevent the fighting, so maybe it could prevent the crying as well.

His eyes followed her gesture to the block, and then focused back on her with a sudden intensity. “I still believe it was the right thing to do,” he said, words coming out in a rush. “After that group approached me to tell me the truth, I couldn’t just go back to ignoring it! The Archbishop Rhea is lying to you all! She and her kind have fabricated the scriptures and defiled the word of the goddess to keep humanity subjected!”

The surly guard to the right of the door (Byleth had never bothered to learn their names) barked out a harsh laugh. “You have no idea who that is that’s about to break off that mouthy little head of yours, do you? That’s the archbishop’s own freaky adopted kid, that is!”

Left Guard reached out to smack his companion’s arm in warning, eyes flicking to Byleth's face in worry. “Watch what you’re saying.”

Right Guard blew him off, unconcerned and still amused. “Aw, she don’t mind none. Do ya?” She gazed back at him blankly, causing him to chuckle darkly. “That one don’t mind nothin'. She’s just walkin’ dead outside of battle. In battle, though? Then she’s a right little killing machine. Heard Wilfred call ‘er something funny the other day. What was it, Bloody Saint? Something like that. Face like one of those goddessdamned statues, even when she's covered in gore n' guts.” He twisted his head and spat on the floor, not helping alleviate the general dankness of the room in any way. “Might as well try convincin’ a brick wall of some dumbshit conspiracy.”

The prisoner frowned at the guard and turned back to face her. “You don’t have to believe anything right now. Just remember what I said, alright? Consider it a last request. Let me feel like this isn’t all meaningless.”

Byleth wasn’t sure what to say to that, and settled on the truth. “I have a bad memory,” she stated.

Probably not the right thing to say, based on the way the prisoner sagged and Right Guard bellowed out another laugh.

In the end, Christophe had walked to the block on his own. He did not fight or cry. It was one of the easier executions Byleth had carried out during that tumultuous time in Fódlan’s history.

~~~

True to her admittance, Byleth had forgotten that particular incident. Or at least she had until the same piercing blue eyes were on her once more.

But the eyes upon her now were full of fury. Lonato was not going to surrender.

Byleth leveled her blade as Lord Lonato readied his lance for a charge, both sparing one last glance at a distraught Ashe. She could only hope that he wouldn’t interfere as she and Catherine lunged in to meet Lonato’s attack. Hopefully there would be no need to kill even more of this family once she was done with Lonato.

Most of the militia surrendered once their lord had fallen. Byleth left handling them to the Knights of Seiros and began the march back to Garreg Mach with the students, who seemed eager to leave the battlefield.

They were much quieter on the journey back.

Ashe still had a fleck of dried blood on his shirt that had landed on him when Byleth drove her sword into Lonato’s stomach. He hadn’t tried to wipe it off. Even as she marched at the front of the line, she could feel the boy’s heavy stare upon her back. He had stared at her unmoving face as his adoptive father’s blood covered her blade in a way that she had grown used to from before she had started working with the Golden Deer.

It would be a bad time to start minding it now.

Chapter Text

Byleth’s tea cabinet was starting to become an undeniable problem. When she opened it after her latest market trip and released the trapped perfumed air into the rest of her room only to find that there was no space remaining in the overstuffed cabinet for her to place the newly acquired blend of Angelica tea, she had to admit there was an issue.

Building up her stock had been handy when she had a nigh constant rotation of Golden Deer students visiting her after class for extra lessons. Byleth had started keeping track of which blends each student preferred, scribbling down their preferences after visits on a loose sheet of paper she had tucked away in her desk drawer. Keeping her students supplied with tea they liked seemed to help keep them motivated in those study sessions, and the more her students excelled in their classwork, the less she would need to worry over anything happening to them in battle. She had made a habit of picking up new teas whenever she ran errands in town, which was necessary at the rate that the kids guzzled it down during visits.

But in the weeks since the mission in Gaspard territory, those visits had become rare. The Deer had stopped insisting she dine with them during lunch breaks, and most students tried to avoid her eye as they moved about the monastery grounds. Marianne had looked close to bursting into tears when Byleth had called on her in class the other day to give an answer to a battle scenario she posed.

Whatever goodwill she had built with the students had seemed to evaporate in the wake of her actions at Magdred Way. The rebellion was suppressed and the monastery was safe, but her charges rarely smiled at her anymore. And Ashe… Their paths crossed infrequently, but in the few times she had seen him, she would catch the boy staring at her numbly, as if he could still see Lonato’s blood coating her. Or maybe as if he was picturing how she had looked after killing his adoptive brother.

Byleth supposed she should have known it was inevitable that this batch of students would come to be as wary of her as all the previous years of academy attendees had been. She had no right to think that her being among them would have changed that. Still, as she gave up on making room for the newest batch of tea in her cabinet and set it in an inconspicuous corner on top of the counter space, she couldn’t deny the sinking feeling of disappointment that settled over her.

“Missing the little ones already?” Sothis questioned, quirking an eyebrow at her from where she hovered around the foot of Byleth’s bed. “Despite the circumstances, I figured you’d be grateful for a reprieve from the constant rotation of needy children in your living quarters.”

Byleth would have thought so, too. As much as she was growing dedicated to seeing her students’ progress, it had been strange having such little time alone. There was probably a different reason for the sinking feeling haunting her now. “It is… just a shame that all this tea will go to waste,” she reasoned.

Somehow, she didn’t need to turn around to know that Sothis rolled her eyes.

Although her tea visits may have stopped, that didn’t mean that Byleth couldn’t still work with her students. She was still determined to have a capable sword user within her class and had scheduled for Claude to meet her in the training grounds for two mornings every week. If he viewed her in a different light after the latest mission, he didn’t show it. Of course, with Claude, that revealed nothing about how he really felt.

Her instincts had served her well with him. No one could become an expert in such a short amount of time, but the Golden Deer’s house leader had exceeded her expectations in his progress with the rapier that she had secured for him. He had already grown comfortable enough with his form and the basic movements that he was beginning to adapt his own style.

Claude circled her nimbly as she faced him with her own wooden training sword, spinning and leaping out of the way of her telegraphed blows when he couldn’t deflect them. His footwork reminded her of the dancing lessons she had been put through when she was younger, quick waltz steps in which a person seemed to glide weightlessly across the floor.

“You are doing well, Claude,” she praised when he caught one of her practice blows on his rapier’s guard.

“I have a good teacher,” he returned with a wink. He loosened his grip, twisted his wrist to angle her training sword away, and followed through with a well-practiced lunge that placed the tip of his rapier at her neck.

The hardened leather guard that had been placed over the end of the thin blade felt awkward at her throat as she nodded her approval. “Good. Do not forgot to strengthen your grip again when you lunge, or else your blade will not pierce the target.”

Claude chuckled at that and lowered his weapon. “Right, right. I’ll do that in actual combat, but I’d rather not hurt my instructor.”

“She could have easily dodged that. Or deflected it,” supplied a new, critical voice.

The only other occupant within the training grounds had paused in his own sword practice to watch them. Byleth couldn’t recall his name, but she recognized him easily enough. He was one of the few that used the grounds to train just as frequently as she did. He also typically matched her in laconicism, so while they were often training at the same time, they had never actually held a conversation.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Claude agreed, entirely unperturbed by the criticism as he slipped into a relax stance. “I’ve seen her in battle, I know Teach is just letting me practice now. I won’t be first in line for a real sparring match with her. But I imagine you just might be, Felix.”

Felix’s eyes flicked to her appraisingly. “Spar with me,” he invited, sounding less like a request and more like a command. “You seem like a worthy opponent. I want to test myself against you.”

Byleth considered him in turn. She had seen him practicing enough that she knew he wasn’t speaking from empty bravado. The idea of a challenge was tempting, and she couldn’t deny the draw of the idea of letting herself use all her skill against an experienced opponent, but…

“Later,” she promised. “I am not finished with my current lesson. We will spar some other day.” She had her duty to her Golden Deer to consider, first.

Claude shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t mind, Teach. Don’t hold back on my account.”

Byleth twisted her grip on her wooden sword and swung, intentionally slowly enough that, even caught unawares, Claude had time to twist out of the way of the blow with a startled yelp. “Try a different tactic next time you want a break, Claude,” she stated, earning a good-natured shrug from the boy. “Get in five more parries and three more hits, and then we can switch it up.”

Felix huffed impatiently and returned to his solo practice as Claude and Byleth spent the rest of the morning training.

Byleth returned again to the training grounds after class that day, alone this time. She had given up expecting anyone to visit her quarters, and decided she might as well do something useful with her time rather than spend another afternoon perusing her notes while keeping an expectant ear listening for a student’s knock on her door.

She had been using a sword so frequently on recent missions to cover for her class’s absence with the blade that she was starting to worry her skills were degrading with other weapons. Byleth considered practicing with an axe for only a moment, but it reminded her again of Christophe, which reminded her of Lonato, which reminded her of Ashe.

She settled on practicing with a lance, instead.

Byleth ran through every drill she knew, practiced her steps until she didn’t need to think about them to act, and trained until her arms were uncomfortably sore. And yet, when night came and it grew too late to remain in the training grounds, she still felt reluctant to return to her room and its full cabinet of unshared teas.

With the desire to avoid her quarters for a little longer and few other ideas for what to do, she made her path towards the monastery’s exit before she could question what impulse moved her feet.

The Shining Grace was vastly different from when she had first stepped into the tavern. With the Rite of Rebirth fast approaching, faithful pilgrims were arriving around Garreg Mach in droves. The Shining Grace was living up to its name to draw in customers. The floors and tables had been scrubbed until they shone, and seasonal workers had been hired as servers. The early arrivers for the celebrations had already made their way into town and several had apparently found accommodations at the inn. At least half of the tables were claimed by travelers relaxing with a drink, and the barkeep that Byleth recognized from her last visit was entertaining several patrons at the bar.

Past them all, sitting apart from the revelry, was Captain Jeralt, nursing a mug of ale at the same secluded table as before.

Byleth settled down in the seat across from him before he had a chance to register her presence. “Stiff me on the bill again and come morning, Garreg Mach will once more be puzzling over the mysterious disappearance of Captain Jeralt,” she declared in an even voice, hailing a nearby waiter for her own glass.

Jeralt was still blinking at her in surprise by the time her drink was delivered. “Er, right. Noted. Wasn’t expecting to see you out here again. Did Leonie twist your arm or something?”

Byleth inspected her ale and found it to be of the same quality as her last visit, smelling odd and likely not tasting any better. A quick swig confirmed that speculation. “Perhaps I missed the drinks here. Very unique,” she stated, earning an amused scoff from the captain.

Jeralt leaned back in his chair with crossed arms, giving her an openly disbelieving look. “Well, Professor, I do welcome your company,” (You do? Byleth wondered. How strange,) “but really, what’s up?”

After another steadying gulp of ale, which tasted slightly less bad than the first sip, Byleth said, “My last mission was a success.”

“…Congratulations?” Jeralt supplied with some uncertainly when she was quiet following that statement.

The feeling that she had been trying to suppress since returning to the monastery bubbled up through her and into her words. “But it did not feel like a success,” she spat bitterly, surprising herself with the intensity of her own tone.

“Ah.” Jeralt frowned and scratched at his beard. “I heard about what happened. A shame about the Gaspards, I wouldn’t have expected Lonato to try something like that. I met both him and his son some years back when I was in their territory for a job, they seemed like nice enough folks.”

“I did what was required of me,” Byleth shot back, as if his words had been an accusation. Jeralt gazed back at her heavily, unimpressed with her defensive tone, and she was grateful that her habitual stony expression held up.

Still, after a long moment, Byleth dropped her gaze. “Lonato’s rebellion threatened Rhea and the Church, not to mention the peace of Fódlan,” she explained to the mug in her hands. “It was my duty to stop it.” Unbidden, she felt a small sigh escape her. “…But the students of the academy are also my responsibility now. And while I ensured their safety and carried out my assigned mission, I still feel like I failed them.”

“So you feel torn between your supposed duty to the archbishop and to your brats?” Jeralt probed, and she nodded slowly. His eyes widened in sudden realization. “Wait. Did you come here for my advice?”

Well, she couldn’t go to Rhea or Seteth with her concerns, shameful as they were for the archbishop’s ward to hold. But hearing it laid out like that and acknowledged, she felt ridiculous. She rose suddenly from her chair, ready to leave the tavern in a hurry. “Forget it. Enjoy your evening, Captain, I should be making my way back before-”

“Wait!” Jeralt called, lifting himself from his seat before she could take more than two steps. “Wait, wait, wait. It’s fine, kiddo; let’s just talk, okay?”

Byleth hesitated, observing the nearly-pleading look in his eyes. “Fine,” she assented, settling cautiously back in her chair as if it might bite her. “But watch it,” she warned, hoping to wipe off his inexplicable expression of relief. “The last time you called me ‘kiddo,’ I punched you in the face, remember?” She flexed her fingers, showing off her metal armguards. “And since you gave me these, a repeat of that incident would likely leave you with a new scar.”

He chuckled as he sat back in his own chair, still sounding relieved despite her best efforts. “Oh, I remember. That has also been noted.”

Silence fell over them again while Jeralt waited for her to continue, but she had already spoken more unprompted this evening than she was used to, and she instead turned her attentions to the mug in her hands, hoping that the liquid within might help her find more words.

Byleth couldn’t say how much time had passed while she searched for those words before she at last spoke, but her drink was at least half gone by then. “I take my duties seriously,” she started, and Jeralt scoffed as if she had said something amusingly obvious. She ignored him and pressed on. “Rhea expects a great deal from me, and I intend to deliver. I will see to it that I carry out any task she sees fit to assign to me, without fail. It was her wish that I guide and protect the students here. But if that conflicts with my other objectives…” she shrugged and made an uncharacteristically clumsy dismissive gesture with her hand that almost sent her mug sprawling across the table before she managed to grab it. “Well, I am not sure of the correct thing to do, then.

Jeralt hummed thoughtfully. “Gonna go out on a limb here and say that you’re not willing to pick just one or the other.” Byleth didn’t quite glare at him, but whatever miniscule change her expression made was enough of an answer for the captain. “Right, thought not. Well, barring that, all I can say is to consider all your options going forward. Try to find some compromise that doesn’t feel like a betrayal to anyone. Although honestly, from what I’ve heard about what happened in Magdred Way, I don’t think you had a lot of choices. But hey, you’re still alive, all the brats are still breathing, and the monastery hasn’t been put to the torch, so I’d say you haven’t screwed up all that bad this time.”

Part of her wanted to argue that making one of the students an orphan for the second time could well be considered “screwing up,” but ultimately decided to concede the point and just nodded mutely. After a few more beats, Jeralt coughed and, trying to sound casual, asked, “You mentioned the archbishop expecting a great deal from you… What exactly is it that she wants from you?”

“I do not know,” she answered honestly, unconcerned.

Jeralt blinked at her, brows knit tightly together. “W- The hell do you mean you don’t know? You mean to tell me you’re this dedicated to her when you don’t even know what she’s expecting from you?”

“Yes,” she said simply, feeling no need to extrapolate further.

The captain stared at her for another moment before burying his face into his hands, sighing deeply. “Kid, you’re gonna give me a stroke,” he mumbled into his palms, sounding exhausted.

“I can live with that.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to call the noise he made in response to that, some odd combination of a laugh and a groan. When he recovered enough to lower his hands, he showed a renewed interest in finding the bottom of his mug. “Well,” he said at last, pushing his empty drink to the side. “I’m glad you felt like you could come see me with this, anyway. Sorry if my advice isn’t particularly spectacular. I should be probably be heading back before I’m missed, but you know where to find me if you need anything.” He rose from his chair and nodded to her, heading for the tavern’s door.

“Captain.” He paused and turned back. Byleth felt a small satisfaction when his eyes were drawn to what she held in her hands, but she kept her face blank. In the short time his back had been turned to her, she had drawn the dagger she kept hidden in her left sleeve, and was now conspicuously using it to clean her fingernails. “I believe you forgot something,” she said evenly, working a bit of dirt out from under the nail of her middle finger.

He heaved an exaggerated sigh and fished into one of his pockets, tossing a handful of coins onto the table without looking. “Yeah yeah, honest mistake. Enough of the theatrics, kid.”

Later, when she would leave, Byleth would discover that it was exactly one coin short of paying for his share of the drinks; for now, though, she almost smiled at him. “Right. Be seeing you around, Captain.”

Jeralt did smile at her. “See you around, Professor.”

The sun had long since sunken below the horizon when Byleth returned to the monastery, heading towards the dorms where her quarters were located. Thinking back, what little advice Jeralt had for her had been obvious and not entirely helpful; still for some reason, after talking with him she felt just a bit… lighter. Hopeful, maybe, though she couldn’t quite say why or what for. Whatever the feeling and whatever the cause, at least it was nice that the night hadn’t been a complete waste.

Though it would seem that the night was not over yet. As Byleth passed by the staircase leading to the second floor dormitories, a muffled voice drifted down to reach her. She could not make out the stuttering words, but the tone was pleading, frightened. Fearing an attack on one of the students, she dashed up the stairs as quietly as she could and through the dorm hall, pausing at each door only long enough to determine if the voice came from within.

It was not long before she found the source of the noise. As she drew nearer to the fourth door in the hall, the cries within spiked with panic and Byleth could just make out some of the disjointed words. “No!” called out a young woman’s voice, and Byleth’s blood ran cold. “Stop, don’t!... Save…”

Byleth reached for the doorknob without thinking and, finding it unlocked when she gave it a twist, shoved her way into the room.

Although late, a single candle was still alight on the dorm’s desk as if to ward off absolute darkness even while the resident slept. And indeed, the sole occupant of the room was in bed, blankets tossed askew as she flailed desperately on the mattress, crying out in fear. At Byleth’s sudden entrance, Edelgard gasped awake, shooting up into a sitting position with eyes blown wide. Within the same beat that the student registered an invader in her room, her hand reached out in a blur and drew a blue-hilted dagger that she had kept hidden near her bed.

Byleth froze, waiting for the girl’s adrenaline to die down enough to realize that she was safe rather than risking distressing her further. But even as Edelgard’s chest seized heaving with panicked breaths and her eyes narrowed with recognition, she kept her grip tight on her weapon. “…Professor?” Edelgard asked warily, looking slightly surprised at how hoarse her own voice sounded. “What are you doing in here?”

Byleth considered making some quip, but seeing the fine sheet of sweat still lining the girl’s forehead, she made the rare choice of letting it slide. “I heard something,” she said instead. When Edelgard only looked further confused by this, she clarified, “It sounded like someone was in danger.”

“…Ah.” Sudden understanding flashed across Edelgard’s face, along with an embarrassed flush. “I suppose I may have been talking in my sleep. I apologize for disturbing you.”

Byleth blinked. “…It was closer to screaming in your sleep. Are you alright?”

Edelgard groaned and ran a hand down her face. Her expression pinched slightly in disgust when her palm came away damp with sweat. “It was a nightmare,” she conceded, but clarified no further. “Please, it is nothing for you to be concerned about.”

Still, Byleth lingered, realizing that she was indeed concerned but having no idea what she could do for her. “Is it anything I could help with?” she asked, somewhat uncertainly.

The student frowned at her. “No, they’re… it’s nothing I wish to talk about. If you’d please…”

It was a dismissal, but she hadn’t explicitly asked Byleth to leave yet. She tried a different tactic. “Well, is there something else you might wish to talk about?” When Edelgard only stared at her, she continued, “Just anything. It may help you take your mind off of it. You do not look like you will be able to get back to sleep otherwise.”

Edelgard’s look of confusion turned to one of surprise. “That is… kind of you, but you are under no obligation. I’d imagine you need your sleep as well, Professor.”

Under Edelgard’s watchful eye, Byleth stepped further into the room and took a seat in the room’s lone chair, ostensibly settling down comfortably. “A chat would help me as well. I was restless.”

Edelgard made an amused sound at that and visibly relaxed, leaning back against her headboard and drawing her knees to her chest to rest her chin upon them. Somehow, the Emperor-to-be made even that pose look regal. Her long white locks flowed like curtains around her. “Well then, my teacher, did you have a topic in mind?”

She didn’t, but she recalled having the stray thought earlier in the day that it had been too long since she visited the monastery’s pond, so she talked about fishing.

Edelgard listened politely but without much interest, even when Byleth tried to hook her in with a detailed explanation of different casting methods and which worked best depending on the type of lure used and which fish one was after (Alois would have loved that, she thought errantly, “hook her in”). At least it did seem to be taking her mind off of her nightmare. She unexpectedly perked up when Byleth mentioned a certain scrawny black cat that often sought her out at the docks for a share of her catches.

“I know that cat!” she piped up, contributing for the first time since Byleth had started speaking. “The one with the broken tail, right? I’m surprised to hear that it approached you, it usually doesn’t let anyone pet it!” Her face took on a small blush. “Or, um, so I’ve heard, anyway.”

Byleth resisted the urge to quirk an eyebrow at her. “Strange. It will not leave me alone. It sometimes harasses me for attention even when I do not have any fish.”

Edelgard let out a single chuckle at that and then covered her mouth with a hand, eyes wide in surprise at letting the noise escape her.

Byleth was surprised as well, given that it was the first time she had ever heard the imperial heir laugh and Byleth had not been intending to make a joke. “What is so amusing?”

“It’s just…” Edelgard started, now keeping her hand up in an attempt to hide a small smile. “You always appear so serious, Professor, and you have quite the reputation. The image of a cat begging you to pet it while your face remains so blank… well, I fear the only way to describe it is as being rather silly.”

Byleth was pretty sure no one had ever used the word “silly” in reference to her before and wasn’t sure how she felt about its use now, but at least Edelgard seemed to be feeling better, so she wouldn’t hold it against her. It was probably even fine for her to return to her own room now, but…

Struck by a sudden thought, Byleth asked, “Do you have a favorite tea?”

Edelgard looked ready to chuckle again, but thankfully suppressed it. “Changing the subject, Professor? Actually, I am rather fond of bergamot tea, although-”

“I will be right back,” Byleth declared, rising from her chair and sweeping from the room in nearly the same breath, leaving Edelgard blinking behind her.

True to her word, only a few minutes passed before she returned to the girl’s room, this time with an armful of packaged tea leaves. “Here,” she announced, unceremoniously dumping her burden on the dorm’s countertop. “If you have trouble sleeping again, maybe this will prove useful. A cup usually helps me.”

Edelgard’s brows fell in concern. “That looks like a full month’s supply. I can’t possibly accept this much tea from you.”

Byleth brushed her hands together dismissively. “I have… found myself in possession of a surplus. You would be doing me a favor.” Before she could argue further, Byleth nodded to her and headed back for the door. “I will leave you to it. Goodnight, Edelgard. I hope the rest of your night is peaceful.”

Despite herself, a small smile crept onto Edelgard’s face. “Er, right. Goodnight to you too, and sleep well, my teacher.”

Byleth felt a twinge of satisfaction as she took the stairs back down to the ground floor. I have found a solution to my problem, she thought to Sothis, somewhat smugly.

“Yes, it turns out that one can seek companionship when lonely,” Sothis responded blithely. “Congratulations on your discovery.”

Hmm? No, I meant my problem with having too much tea stocked in my quarters.

Sothis made a noise of absolute exasperation and ignored her for the rest of the night.

The Rite of Rebirth ceremony was only a few days away when Byleth received a summons from the archbishop to receive her class’s mission for the month. The grand audience chamber was empty of all but Rhea and Seteth when Byleth arrived. She noted immediately that Seteth appeared tenser than usual, bags under his eyes and his stance guarded, and that even Rhea’s typical serene demeanor was diminished.

“Good morning, my dear child,” Rhea still greeted her warmly, and Seteth acknowledged her with a nod. Byleth returned the greetings with a quick bow. “As you are no doubt aware, the Rite of Rebirth is soon upon us. This sacred rite cannot be interfered with.”

Byleth nodded. It sounded as if her mission this month would be to keep order as pilgrims came to Garreg Mach to worship, which would be simple enough.

Seteth cleared his throat and spoke up. “This is typically a peaceful event, but we have cause to believe there may be trouble this year. Our knights that were investigating Lonato’s rebellion have returned with evidence of an assassination plot on Lady Rhea. We require your assistance in ensuring her safety.”

Byleth’s stomach dropped and her hand instinctively reached for the blade at her side. “None will touch her,” she vowed, and Rhea smiled at her.

Chapter Text

“Byleth.”

Byleth tuned out the voice, which had already spent the last half hour unsuccessfully trying to pester her. She focused instead on the faint scratching of Rhea’s quill as the archbishop worked through her paperwork, and kept alert for any noise that may indicate an intruder advancing on the archbishop’s study.

From where Byleth was seated, in a corner near the door, she could easily keep watch on the rest of the room. Rhea was the only other occupant, head bent over her desk as she worked. The day had been peaceful thus far, with only Seteth popping in a few times to exchange words with Rhea, and Cyril earlier in the day bringing up breakfast for both women.

While Rhea’s plate had consisted of her favorite delicacies, such as scones and bread slathered with jams made from exotic fruit, the plate that the boy had brought up for Byleth was hardly lacking. It was stacked high with sausages and biscuits, slices of fresh fruit, and a generous serving of scrambled eggs with mixed sautéed vegetables. It was more than enough food to keep her satisfied even were she to miss lunch, which she certainly would do if it was required of her in order to keep her vigil over Rhea. When Cyril had handed her the plate, he had met her eye and said under his breath, “Keep her safe, alright?” Byleth had no doubt that even now, he was likely patrolling the monastery grounds, keeping watch for anything suspicious.

“Byleth. Byleth, Byleth, Byyyyyyyyyyyleth…”

She would do her part for Rhea, as well. Byleth was a patient person, not prone to distraction, and keeping her self-appointed guard over the archbishop was the least she could do to ensure the safety of one so important…

“Byleth. Byleth, by all the stars, I am so bored. How long must we remain in this room while nothing happens? This is even worse than needing to sit through your class lectures! At this point I might just start wishing for an assassin to charge in. At least it would offer some entertainment!”

Granted, it would certainly be easier to listen for threats if the resident within her brain would keep a bit quieter. Still, as long as she strained her ears and kept her focus…

The monastery bells chimed out loudly, marking the hour, and the sudden noise almost had Byleth leaping out of her seat, hand reaching for one of her daggers before she processed the source of the sound and aborted the motion. Rhea lifted her head from her work and paused to count the chimes, turning to her ward with a faint smile when the echoes died down. “My, the time is passing quickly this morning,” she observed pleasantly. “Still, I believe some fresh air would do wonders. Care to join me?”

“Of course,” Byleth agreed readily, already determined to shadow the archbishop’s steps in any case. Rhea rose slowly from her seat, pure white robes shifting ethereally around her, and led the way to the star terrace. Byleth followed behind, hoping that perhaps the change in scenery would quiet Sothis’s complaining.

She watched as Rhea stepped out onto the Star Terrace, the sunlight catching on her pristine white Archbishop robes and making her appear as if the light was a part of her. Rhea walked to the tall railing without pausing to glance at the decorative pools of water lining the balcony, taking her familiar position just a little off-center as an unspoken invitation for Byleth to join at her side in gazing at the monastery grounds below. Byleth took her own time in glancing around to ensure they were alone and secure, even though there were few available places on the terrace for a hopeful assassin to hide, and then took up her own spot beside Rhea.

Garreg Mach spread out before them, students and staff alike meandering leisurely or hurrying about to handle some morning task. Byleth let her eyes drift to watch Rhea’s expression as she took it all in, her fond gaze almost motherly as she observed those in her dominion going about their lives. Then Rhea blinked and her gaze focused in on tracing the progress of one person in particular, and in curiosity Byleth followed her gaze to a certain splash of yellow moving about with purpose in the courtyard.

The line of her mouth thinned as Byleth watched while far below her, Claude von Reigan stopped to talk with a knight on duty, before moving on to speak with a passing priest.

“It is heartening to see the students interacting so amiably with the faculty,” Rhea commented, smiling gently. Byleth hummed in what she hoped would be interpreted as agreement rather than suspicion.

Rhea’s smile immediately vanished as a flash of orange emerged from the knight’s hall and Claude made a beeline to intercept it. Jeralt stopped and turned to face him, and though she couldn’t clearly see his face from her perch, Byleth thought his posture looked guarded.

“My, my,” Sothis lilted in a sing song voice, her boredom swapped for her never-ending curiosity. “I wonder what in the world could have that boy chasing after the Captain of the Knights?”

Probably nothing good, Byleth internally responded, bemused. She wasn’t sure what to make of the tiny spark of curiosity that had seeded in her as well, but decided to blame it on the feeling leaking from Sothis rather than originating from her.

Lost in her thoughts, Byleth hadn’t realized that Rhea had turned to her until she heard her voice. “What do you think of him, my child?” Rhea asked, a hint of worry in her tone.

Byleth blinked, considering her words for a long moment. “He has potential,” she started after some thought. “And despite his affected air of being untrustworthy and a troublemaker, I do believe he is a good person. He clearly cares for and supports his classmates, even if he teases them just as much. I do not know what his goals are, but I suspect he has high ambitions. I hope to do my best in supporting him to see those through.”

It was Rhea’s turn to be silent for a long moment, blinking at her ward, before surprising Byleth with a light chuckle. “Oh, you are referring to your house leader. It is good to hear you speak so for one of our continent’s future leaders; I do hope he lives up to your expectations, but I have no doubt you will be a blessing to him for guidance.” Rhea smiled, her worry apparently alleviated by Byleth’s response. “However, I was wondering what you thought of our recently returned captain.”

That gave Byleth even more pause. Rhea had not discussed Jeralt with her since the man had first arrived at the monastery. In fact, she had seemed to conspicuously avoid the topic, which only served to make Byleth more suspicious of the captain. She had never forgotten the look of dread that had haunted Rhea’s expression when he had shown up in the audience chamber after that fateful meeting in Remire.

The corner of Byleth’s mouth twitched downwards. “If I may be candid?” It was something she would never bother to ask with anyone else; bluntness came rather naturally to her, and she rarely remembered to check herself. Rhea nodded an affirmation, but a grim shadow had passed over her face. “I am not sure what I think of him,” she admitted. Rhea’s darkened expression turned to one of interest as Byleth continued. “The knights seem to respect him, and even to like him. I have not spoken with him much, and the few times I have…”

How could she even characterize it? Jeralt seemed acutely curious about her, and yet had rarely ever sought her out. When he did speak with her, he was all at once aloof, inquisitive, watchful, overly casual, and entirely inscrutable. And the few times she had gone to see him, well… She recalled with annoyance that he was now two for two on mooching off of her for drinks. “I am not sure that I like him,” she stated, vindicated by her lighter wallet.

She expected a gentle chastisement, and advice on reconciling with Jeralt. Theoretically, Byleth would one day be back to working her regular missions with the Knights of Seiros, rather than scrambling to do her best as a professor. It would be detrimental for her not to get along with the Captain of the Knights.

What Byleth was not expecting was for Rhea’s eyes to light up in relief. “I see,” she said, sounding strangely pleased. “Well, it is natural that not every person can get along with one another, even those on the same side on a holy path. Do not worry, that will be no trouble. I doubt you will have many causes to work together, seeing as the Knights of Seiros boast so many exceptional warriors that can aid you instead if need ever be.”

Rhea paused, deep in thought as she considered her ward. “My child,” she murmured, reaching out a hand to gently cup Byleth’s face. “It deeply touches me how protectively you have stood at my side since hearing word of the plot on my life. Truly, I could not be more proud of who you are growing to be.” Rhea’s thumb lightly stroked along her cheek and Byleth leaned into the touch without thinking. “I wonder… will you always be at my side like this? Through whatever time may reveal, in either our future or our past?”

“Of course, as long as you will have me,” Byleth affirmed unhesitatingly.

Rhea’s responding grin was as blinding as the sun. She pulled Byleth closer and placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Then I am truly blessed,” she whispered into Byleth’s hair, before stepping back to once more meet her ward’s eye. Her hands remained on Byleth’s shoulders. “You will never know how my heart soars at hearing the conviction in those words. So long as that remains true, there is nothing in this world that I fear.”

Her hands gave Byleth a tender squeeze. “With that said, my child, I believe your class will be starting soon.” She continued before Byleth could object. “Your flock has greater need of you just now than I do. With you leading them, they can reach ever greater heights. And you well know that I am stronger than I look.” Byleth did indeed know that to be the truth; after all, it was Rhea herself that taught her much of what she knew of hand-to-hand combat techniques. Still… “I will summon Catherine to replace you as my guard for now,” Rhea assured her, sensing her reluctance. “I know you trust her as well as I do. Please, focus on your normal activities here within the academy for now. Once the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth starts, then I will be relying on you once again to accompany me. As for your students, their mission this month will be patrolling the monastery grounds during the ceremony.”

Byleth nodded in both understanding and agreement. Catherine was amongst the most skilled knights and would certainly ensure the archbishop’s safety until Byleth could return to her side for the celebrations.

Rhea smiled at her once more before removing her hands and turning back to head indoors. Byleth paused before following, shooting one last glance back out at the courtyard below. Claude had vanished from her view, off to pursue whatever it was he was after today, but Jeralt remained. He had already been looking up in her direction when she had caught sight of him, and even with the distance between them she could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and immutable.

She resisted the urge to shiver as she turned and retreated back into the halls of the monastery.

Word of the assassination plot had already spread throughout Garreg Mach, so the Golden Deer students were unsurprised when Byleth relayed their mission to them at the end of class. They were surprised when she informed them that she would not be with them.

“I will be with Archbishop Rhea while she carries out the Rite of Rebirth,” she explained levelly. “I have always accompanied her for this ceremony; with the threat that has been issued on her life, I would not dare leave her this time. You will be patrolling the central courtyards independently.”

Claude eyed her as she spoke, frowning thoughtfully. When she dismissed the class for lunch, he lingered behind and approached her desk once they were alone, leaning against it with a knowing smirk.

“So, Teach, let me ask you something,” he drawled. Byleth nodded her permission and he continued. “That ‘secret note’ that was found on Lord Lonato, announcing some improbable attack on the archbishop during the Rite of Rebirth… Don’t you think it’s a little too convenient?”

When she only stared back at him impassively, he shifted off her desk and placed his hands at his hips. “C’mon, Teach! Notes like that aren’t just written out and carried around conspicuously.”

“What are you trying to say, Claude?” Byleth prompted, tone still neutral.

He looked disappointed that she had to ask, but covered it quickly with one of his grins. “Well, if you ask me – which you just did, actually – this whole alleged assassination plot only makes sense if it’s just a distraction from the enemy’s real target. With the guards focused on protecting Lady Rhea, other parts of the monastery will have lessened security.”

Claude paused to gauge her reaction; his brow furrowed when she did not have one. “So what I’m saying is, it would be better to deduce what they are really after and place ourselves there to intercept them. If we-”

“Claude,” she cut in. “There is nothing in this monastery more valuable than the archbishop’s life. I am not changing the plan merely because you have a whimsical hunch.”

She couldn’t be sure if she imagined the flash of hurt she thought she spotted in his guarded eyes. When he spoke again, his tone was still playing at casual, even with his insistence. “Hey, I like to think it’s at least an enlightened hunch! Listen, if I’m right, this may be the only chance we have to figure out the enemy’s true goal. I’ve done some of my own investigating and spoke to staff to gather information, and I’ve concluded the most likely spot they’ll strike has to be the Holy Mausoleum. The Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth is the one time of year it will be easily accessible, and the threat against the archbishop practically ensures it won’t be patrolled now. I even checked with Captain Jeralt, and he confirmed-”

“Enough.” Her voice wasn’t sharp, but she put enough stress on the word that it stopped Claude in his tracks. “Our mission is to protect the archbishop, and I will allow no wavering from that. The Golden Deer will patrol the courtyards north of the dining hall, and I will accompany Rhea. There is no discussion here. Do you understand?”

Claude’s smile was as forced as she had ever seen it. “Got it. Clear as crystal, Teach, sorry to bother you. Consider it done.”

The morning of the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth ceremony, Byleth joined Seteth and Flayn in preparing for the day’s activities. Byleth disliked not being at Rhea’s side with the assassination threat still hovering over her, but knew that the knights would be on high guard, and that it was important to the archbishop that every tradition of the rite be upheld.

As part of the archbishop’s holy guard, she would need to look the part. Each guard assigned to Rhea, typically chosen from the Knights of Seiros, were to be adorned in ceremonial white armor designed specifically for the occasion. As Byleth had been part of the guard for the last several years, a set of armor for her had already been forged. She simply needed to locate it within the church’s storage quarters, a task which Seteth and his sister had volunteered to assist her with.

The storage room was large, filled to the ceiling in some places with crates and various objects, but there must have been some sort of organization to the mess that Seteth knew of; barely five minutes had passed when he made a noise of triumph and pulled the gleaming white armor out of a box in the corner.

“Here.” Seteth automatically moved to help Byleth don the garb, placing it over her and efficiently fastening the clasps. The armor was complicated in places, but Byleth hardly needed the help, well-acquainted as she was in gearing up for battle. Still, she had no reason to stop Seteth, and having something to do with his hands seemed to be distracting him from his nerves over the threat on Rhea’s life, so she held out her arms to give him better access and let him continue. Flayn watched for a moment before straying further into the room, investigating the storage units as if each might hide wonderous treasure.

Seteth had just secured the final binding for Byleth when a delighted gasp directed both of their attention to his sister. “Look!” she cried, lifting her find from a crate filled with garments. It was a white silk dress tailored for a young girl, with red and white braided ribbons tied like a belt across the waist. A crest of Seiros was embroidered into it with golden thread. “Oh my goodness, Byleth, was this yours?”

She considered the dress for a long moment, but her spotty memory offered no spark of recognition. She turned to Seteth instead, knowing he tended to remember things from her early life much more clearly than she did.

He caught her gaze and sighed, correctly assuming she had forgotten. “Yes, that was made for Byleth for when she would accompany Rhea during church rites as a young child. I am a touch surprised it is still here, but Rhea can be rather sentimental.”

Flayn giggled at that. “And I suppose you are not at all sentimental, Brother? I see. In that case, when you were reminiscing just the other day about when Byleth was small enough that you could carry her around while you patrolled the monastery, you were not being nostalgic at all?” Seteth sputtered indignantly at her teasing, but Flayn turned her attention back on the dress before he formed any coherent words. “Oh, I bet you were simply adorable in this! I wish I had been around to meet you when you were still little!”

Seteth’s gaze returned from the child’s dress that Flayn held aloft back to the ceremonial armor that Byleth currently donned and came to rest with a furrowed brow upon the sword at her side. Unlike the armor, the weapon was not some ornamental piece to only be pulled out of storage for special occasions. She had wielded it frequently, and with great efficiency, in battles of such number that she had never bothered to count. Both she and that sword had served their purpose well, striking down without mercy anyone deemed a threat to Fódlan’s peace.

“I have to wonder,” Seteth murmured, words coming slowly as if traveling a great distance from somewhere deep in his core, “if this is what you wanted for yourself, back then.”

Byleth shook her head, not in answer but in hope of dismissing the concern in his tone. “I never did want anything for myself,” she assured him.

The furrow in his brow only deepened at that, eyes turning sad. Not for the first time, Byleth cursed her inability to infer what words others wanted from her.

The rest of the preparations passed in a blur. Flayn followed Seteth while he went over logistics with the knights on duty, and Byleth returned to shadowing Rhea.

Eventually Rhea, along with Seteth and Flayn, would retire to the Goddess Tower to pray, but before that the archbishop traditionally led the masses in prayer from the Star Terrace. Clergymen and a few nobles held in high regard were allowed within the monastery grounds where they would easily be able to see and hear the archbishop, while religious pilgrims would gather along the long stone stairway leading up to Garreg Mach, wishing to be as close to the holy woman as possible while they offered up their own worship.

Byleth and Catherine were chosen to stand with Rhea on the terrace as she delivered her speech to those below, while the rest of the Knights would be on guard nearby or along the path to the Goddess Tower.

“Goodness,” Sothis commented as Byleth stood behind Rhea, scanning the crowd of worshipers gathering as far as she could see. “All this is meant to be for my benefit? Hmm, you would think they would give it up after nearly a thousand years with no word from me. You humans are truly strange creatures.”

Byleth frowned at that, idly wondering if it could be blasphemous when it was the goddess herself saying it. To Sothis, she thought, They pray for your rebirth every year as the Blue Sea Star rises. Who is to say that is not why you are here now?

“Hmph! I doubt it.” Sothis let out an exaggerated yawn as Rhea’s speech continued. “This event is so boring, it’s liable to put me right back to sleep! Do inform your archbishop to try something a little more lively next time, won’t you?”

Byleth made no comment to that, instead settling for making a slow round along the terrace, looking out over the side to search for any potential trouble below. From the south-facing end, she would be able to spot the courtyard her students were assigned to patrol. She took her time walking along there, surreptitiously scanning for her Golden Deer. Things were quiet so far, but still, she hoped all was going well with them…

With a quick glance, she spotted no trace of her students. She paused, her eyes narrowing as she continued searching for some glimpse of Lorenz’s purple hair, Lysithea’s shocking white locks, Raphael’s large frame, something. She could see a few knights standing to attention, and thought she may have even spotted Alois, but her students were not there.

A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. Claude, she thought suddenly. His hunch, his claim that the plot was simply a distraction, his proposed plan to intercept the enemy at the true target… No, the students had to be somewhere in the courtyard. He wouldn’t go behind her back and put them all in danger simply to satisfy his curiosity… would he?

She moved along so that the courtyard was lost to her sight, but the dread in her body remained. She tried to push it aside, focus on her duty and on Rhea as the rite continued, but she couldn’t stop thinking about her students. As long as Claude was wrong and there was no secret ploy, they would be fine, she reminded herself.

…But if Claude was right…

She tightly gripped the sword at her side just to do something with her hands. Damn him. Damn him. With the threat of assassination on the archbishop, this was not the time to let herself get distracted. If her students had truly disobeyed her, then certainly what fell on them would be no more than what they deserved.

…No. She did not believe that in the slightest, and she certainly couldn’t accept it. Damn them!

Catherine was not far from her, and thankfully was on high enough alert that she noticed the miniscule gesture that Byleth made to catch her attention. She marched to her side and leaned in inconspicuously, close enough that she could hear Byleth’s whispered words.

“I need to check on something,” Byleth said, “I will be back shortly, I swear, but in the meantime, I need you to guard Rhea with your life.”

Catherine stared at her incredulously. “Now?” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “If it was anyone but you, I’d say absolutely not. But since it is you, I can only assume this is important… Go, and don’t worry about it, I got this. I welcome someone to try me!”

Byleth nodded, stole one last glance at Rhea’s serene silhouette as she addressed the masses below, and then slipped back inside the monastery as quietly as she could.

The Knights of Seiros lining the monastery walls allowed her to pass by without a second thought as she moved at a leisurely pace towards the cathedral. She refused to move faster than a calm walk. The Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth was of extreme importance to the church, and therefore to Rhea, and Byleth would not cause a panic amongst the knights simply because her students might be in the wrong place, and might be, but most likely were not, in danger.

The security thinned out as she reached the bridge, with only a few knights on post. She walked steadily past them, keeping her pace even, her face betraying nothing. She would not allow her concern to push her into running and causing an alarm. She would not.

Once she reached the end of the bridge at the foot of the cathedral, no one was around to witness her.

Byleth broke into a sprint down the aisle of the cathedral, taking the stairs down to the Holy Mausoleum two at a time as her pulse hammered in her temples.

She was halfway down when she heard the first signs of battle. Metal blades meeting, the unmistakable sounds of offensive magic, and shouts and screams. Her blood ran cold as she ran faster, practically flying down the steps.

At last, the narrow hallway abruptly opened to the wide chamber of the mausoleum. Mysterious masked figures filled the room, crowded around where the battle was raging. The Golden Deer, her students, were backed into a corner with no means of escape, fighting desperately to stay alive. Leonie, Raphael, Hilda, and Lorenz had formed an outer ring, panting heavily as they fought to protect the students behind them. Claude, Ignatz, and Lysithea stood behind them, firing off volleys of arrows and devastating blasts of magic, while Marianne moved between them and healed the most urgent of their wounds. Byleth could tell at a glance that the healer, like the other students, was exhausted, and her magic reserves were drying.

Three hooded mages stood at the base of the stairwell, ready to intercept any student that tried to flee. Their backs were turned to Byleth as they watched the scuffle unfolding; she drew her sword and sliced through two of their necks before any had a chance to register her presence. The warning cry of the remaining mage died in his throat as her blade took him through the chest.

Byleth paused for a mere second, considering her next move. She still had the element of surprise; the most advantageous strategy would be to sneak forward and take out as many foes as she could before she was noticed. But as a mage prepared a strong Miasma spell, aiming for an unprotected Raphael, she discarded that plan and rushed forward, screeching a bloody war cry with such ferocity that it immediately hurt her throat.

The noise broke the concentration of the mage and bought her students a few precious seconds of distraction as the foes surrounding them turned to her in confusion. The nearest foe fell quickly to her blade, and as the rest prepared to face her, she heard her yell being echoed triumphantly by Claude as he took full advantage of the opening to riddle the enemy with a fresh volley of arrows.

Raphael was next to take up the cry, hollering jovially as he crashed into a nearby mage. Leonie’s voice joined theirs as she speared a dismayed opponent through the gut.

“Fools!” yelled a voice from further within the mausoleum. “The interlopers matter not! The seal is almost broken, fall back and protect me until then!”

The remaining intruders dutifully fell back at the command, taking up a defensive position deeper within the chamber. The students slumped in relief at the reprieve, and with the path now clear, Byleth hurried over to them.

“Teach!” Claude called as she approached, a note of wild relief in his voice that Byleth did not think was entirely fake. “Man, you sure know how to show up at just the right time.” He winked, grinning widely. “Ha, and with that fancy white armor, you sure look the part of the dashing hero. Nice entrance!”

Her reply was interrupted as two strong arms wrapped around her from behind, lifting her up into a crushing hug. Her first wild thought was to wonder how Alois had gotten there until she heard Raphael’s booming voice, volume as high as ever with no concern for his proximity of her ears. “PROFESSOR! You really came for us!” Raphael shouted, finding the strength to squeeze her abused ribs even tighter. “I was starting to worry that we were goners. Thanks for saving us!”

“Geez, let her breathe, Raphael!” Leonie chastised, but she was smiling as well. “You’re about to crush the life out of her!”

Byleth was set back on her feet with a quick apology from the boy. She observed each of her students in turn, all exhausted but beaming at her, and she felt nearly weightless with relief that she had made it in time to find them all still breathing. At least, she was pretty sure it was relief at that, and not at her renewed ability to draw air into her lungs now that she had been freed from Raphael’s embrace. “Is anyone hurt?” she asked, pushing the feeling aside for now to focus on the matter at hand.

“Over here!” Hilda called, her arm slung around Marianne, who looked like she wanted nothing more than to sink back behind the others and out of view. “Marianne took a lot of the magical attacks to protect the rest of us!”

She hadn’t realized it at first, but Marianne had the sickly pallor indicative of one who had fallen victim of dark magic attacks. As Byleth moved towards her to perform a Restore spell, Marianne’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry to be a burden,” she murmured.

Byleth blinked, surprised by the apology. Once the healing magic had done it’s work for the girl, she placed a hand on Marianne’s shoulder, carefully so as not to spook her. “You did well,” she assured her. “I have no doubt you saved several of your classmates’ lives today. Be proud.”

“See, Marianne?” Hilda chirped as her friend’s face turned red. “If the professor says so, you know it’s true! We’re lucky to have you!”

Byleth nodded and turned to face the rest of her students. “You have all done well to hold your own,” she announced to several grins. She scanned through their faces until she met the eyes of the house leader.

“Claude,” she called, and a wave of apprehension passed through the class. The other students parted quickly to let her pass as she approached him.

He held his hands up and smiled disarmingly. “Heeeeey, Teach. So, uh, before the lecture on my reckless behavior and disobedient ways, I’d just like to point out-”

“I am sorry,” Byleth said, which shocked Claude into a rare silence. “You trusted me enough to warn me of your suspicions. I should have trusted you in turn and listened. I failed you as a professor and I hope I have the chance to make it up to you.” Claude blinked at her, still at a loss for words, and she continued before he could find them. “However, if you ever go behind my back again to do something that puts not only you, but also your classmates in danger, I will assign you to solo stable duty for the rest of the year.”

Claude chuckled sheepishly. “I’ll admit this didn’t quite go according to plan; I was expecting a much smaller group breaking in. Lesson learned. And for what it’s worth, I’d say you bailing us out makes us square. If you’re willing to have faith in me in the future though, I can promise not to pull anything quite like this again.”

“Deal,” Byleth agreed, and Claude beamed. She turned to address the class at large. “The path to the exit is clear. If anyone wants to leave, now is the chance.”

“No way!” Raphael shouted immediately. “We can’t let the bad guys win!”

“It would be dishonorable to turn away from this. I will continue to fight,” Lorenz concurred.

“We’re with you, professor!” Leonie declared, hefting her lance for emphasis.

Byleth felt something swell in her chest as a flurry of agreement rose from her students. “You are proud of the little troublemakers,” Sothis supplied in a tone that was both fond and exasperated, and Byleth felt no need to dispute the claim. Even without her assistance, the Deer had done well. They were each learning and growing well beyond her expectations, and she felt privileged to stand witness to their progress. And with her guidance, the remaining intruders did not stand a chance. Except…

Claude followed her gaze as she eyed a figure in black armor and a skull mask standing impassively in the center of the mausoleum. “Don’t worry about tall, dark, and evil over there,” Claude assured her, guessing at her train of thought. “I don’t know what his deal is, but he doesn’t seem interested in interfering here.” Byleth disliked leaving her back to a potentially powerful enemy, but she had agreed to put more trust in Claude’s judgement. She nodded and prepared the others for a charge.

Byleth guided the onslaught against the intruders, pushing ever further into the mausoleum. The masked figures grew ever more desperate as her group continued to make ground, but the regrouping had done wonders for the Golden Deer. It was not long before they reached the lone figure performing a ritual over the casket at the end of the room.

The magic around the stone tomb flashed as Byleth approached, and the masked mage let out a shout of satisfaction as the lid fell aside. “You’re too late! The seal on Seiros’s coffin has been… huh?”

He reached into the coffin’s depths and drew out a strange sword, staring at in confusion. Byleth rushed him, blade flashing, leaving him only enough time to raise his weapon to block her blow. Her strike sent the sword spinning out of his hands in a high arc; Byleth caught it before he had a chance to recover the blade and used the momentum to deflect a blast of magic he sent her way.

Byleth swung the sword before her opponent could strike again, opening a deep gash across the man’s chest. The weapon blazed with a red light as the mage dropped to floor, and it suddenly clicked in Byleth’s mind what she held. She had seen Catherine in battle frequently enough to recognize the unique structure and odd glow of a Relic weapon.

“Teach, that Relic, is that…” Claude approached her slowly, eyes locked onto the weapon in her hands. When he met her gaze, his expression was guarded. “Are you really wielding the Sword of the Creator?”

Chapter Text

Although Byleth was accustomed to seeing a faint smile gracing Rhea’s face, she could not recall ever seeing the archbishop look quite so happy. Her beaming expression had hardly wavered since Byleth first walked into the audience chamber with the strange weapon, the Sword of the Creator, in her grasp.

Byleth was far from an expert in knowing the correct emotional response to situations, but even then, it had struck her as an odd expression to bear, given the circumstances. When Byleth had failed to return to the archbishop’s side for the Rite of Rebirth, Catherine had realized something was wrong. She and a contingent of the Knights of Seiros had come charging into the Holy Mausoleum after her, arriving mere moments after Byleth had cut down the last masked mage. The remaining infiltrators were rounded up by the knights, except for the strange figure in dark armor and a skull-like mask. His eyes had bored into Byleth once the Sword of the Creator had activated in her hand, only for him to vanish in a flash of magic.

Catherine advised her to head straight to the archbishop, but Byleth had wished to escort her class to the infirmary first. The Golden Deer had done well, but none of them made it through completely unscathed, and dark magic could have unpredictable side effects on its victims. It had taken several assurances from her students and a promise from two of the knights to personally escort them to Manuela before Byleth had finally relented.

Even now, with Rhea’s pride-filled eyes gazing on her, Byleth’s mind was heavy with thoughts of her students. Had she been any later in arriving to the mausoleum, one of them could have been seriously hurt, or even killed. For all she knew, one of them could have taken a serious hit in the fight before she had entered, and Marianne’s healing alone may not have been enough to fix it. But Manuela was a talented physician; surely she would catch an improperly healed injury. Still, Byleth would have to check in on them in the infirmary once she was done explaining herself to Rhea, and in the meantime it would do little good to worry over them.

Or to worry over other things, such as the odd way Claude had eyed her since the Relic weapon she now held had come alive in her grasp…

She hadn’t realized Rhea had been speaking until the archbishop called her name, dragging her out of her memories and back into the audience chamber. “Ah, I apologize,” Byleth said, snapping back to attention. “What were you saying?”

Rhea was still smiling, unbothered by her distraction. “No need to apologize, my child. I imagine wielding the Sword of the Creator has left you with much to think about. Certainly it was fate that called you to the Holy Mausoleum in time to protect that weapon, and I believe that now fate will reveal your path going forward and grant you clarity.”

Byleth shook her head. “It is my students that deserve praise for uncovering the plot.” She could omit the part about Claude leading them down there against her orders; she considered his need to do so as a failing on her part and did not wish to disparage him to the archbishop.

Seteth cleared his throat. Unlike Rhea, Byleth thought that his expression seemed much more appropriate for the situation. His stance was guarded, arms crossed and mouth set in a grim line, and he eyed the Sword of the Creator at her side as if it was a live viper and he didn’t understand why it had yet to strike her. “While it is undeniably fortunate that you and your class were able to thwart this despicable scheme, I believe caution is in order here.” That last bit was delivered along with a pointed look to Rhea. “The Sword of the Creator is a weapon of unimaginable power, but it has lain dormant since the days of Nemesis. The safest course of action would be to seal it away again, especially considering we have no explanation for why Byleth is able to wield it, or how she can wield it without the weapon’s Crest Stone, at that.”

Rhea looked at him with patient kindness, as if he was a child unable to understand a simple truth. “The fact that she can use the weapon granted to humanity by the goddess herself is explanation enough, is it not? The goddess has chosen her. We must have faith and entrust the sword to her.”

Her advisor stiffened at her words. “You cannot be serious,” he hissed. “We have no idea what the ramifications of her wielding the sword could be, or if it could cause her harm. It would be foolish to allow her to possess it for even a moment more without more information as to why-”

“Seteth, enough.” The patience was gone from Rhea’s tone, and it was clear she would allow for no argument. “I have already made my decision.” She turned to Byleth, her face softening. “My child, please continue to use the Sword of the Creator. And if you notice any… changes as you wield it, I ask that you come to me to so that we may determine what they mean.” The last was said with an undeniable glint of eagerness in her eyes.

Byleth nodded, noting how Seteth looked at the archbishop with suspicion before glancing again with a worried expression at Byleth and the Relic weapon. She assumed he must be concerned for a sword that was such a treasure to the church, and internally vowed to take extra care in maintaining the weapon.

~~~

Byleth’s head was spinning by the time she returned to her quarters that night. She had checked in on her students at the infirmary the moment she left her meeting. She had only lingered long enough to be assured that no one had suffered a grievous injury before a harried Manuela chased her out, intent on having no distractions from tending to the students. Byleth had trusted her to it, knowing the physician was concerned over the wellbeing of the kids and would do everything in her power to heal them.

But Byleth had barely taken two steps out of the clinic before practically smacking into Hanneman, who dragged her into his office. He heard about her use of a Relic weapon and had come to a logical conclusion, he explained as he fiddled with one of his many strange devices. If she was using the Sword of the Creator, she must be in possession of a Crest, the very same Crest that had allowed Nemesis to wield the sword, and he wished to test his hypothesis.

Sequestered back in her room, Byleth held her hand out and stared at it, as if she could still see the looping symbol that had blazed above it, revealed by Hanneman’s test. The Crest of Flames.

“None of this makes sense!” an irate voice cried out. Byleth raised her gaze from her hand up to Sothis as she hovered above the foot of her bed, tugging at the braids in her mass of green hair in frustration. “The Sword of the Creator, gifted from the goddess? Nemesis and the Crest of Flames? It all sounds so familiar, and yet, so… so wrong!”

“Then we should go to Rhea,” Byleth pointed out. “As we should have in the beginning. I am sure she can help us figure this all out, if we just tell her about you-”

“NO!” Sothis shouted, letting her hands fall from her hair to fist angrily at her side. Byleth said nothing, just gazing back at her in silence until Sothis’s expression fell. “Just… not yet, alright? I cannot get a read on that Rhea at all, and nothing that she has said sounded quite right to me. In fact, the only thing that has made me feel like I just might remember something was…”

She trailed off, but Byleth implicitly knew where her thoughts had gone, as if Sothis’s wonderings had leashed her own mind along in remembrance. “Zanado,” she supplied, recalling the phantom figures that had overwhelmed them both at the canyon.

“Zanado,” Sothis echoed in confirmation. “If the story is true that I once lived there, then maybe returning will help me uncover some of my lost memories.” She nodded once, and then haughtily placed her hands at her hips. “It is decided! Take us there at once, and let us see what is revealed to us!”

Byleth raised an eyebrow by a fraction, staring the goddess down. Sothis sighed in defeat and amended, “Fine, or we can rest for now. Let’s come to an agreement. If you take us to Zanado, then afterwards I will not try to stop you from speaking with your archbishop about me, rather or not we find anything. I am merely asking for one more chance to uncover the truth on our own. I trust you; I must, after all, but I do not yet know who else I can trust. Is that an acceptable deal?”

“Deal,” Byleth agreed, feeling relief at finally having a clear plan. It was a welcome weight off of her shoulders, knowing that she would not need to keep such a secret from Rhea much longer.

~~~

It would shortly become apparent that the Zanado trip would need to wait if Byleth was hoping to depart without being noticed. News of the Sword of the Creator becoming active in her hands, along with word of her revealed Crest, had spread through Garreg Mach like wildfire. It seemed that everyone had questions for her. Linhardt had managed to stay awake long enough to shadow her for most of her waking hours, curious about the effects of her Crest and how it felt for her to wield the Relic. Felix had demanded a spar with her every time she stepped foot into the training grounds. She had even noticed Edelgard observing her closely, brows furrowed in thought as if Byleth was a puzzle to be unraveled.

But by far, the most persistent was her own house leader. “I can’t think of anything much more wild, Teach,” he mentioned casually, keeping step with her as she patrolled the monastery one weekend. “An orphan personally adopted by Archbishop Rhea, the holiest woman in Fódlan, turns out to be descended from none other than the King of Liberation. No wonder you claimed to not know anything about your parents. It just raises too many questions, huh?”

“I do not know anything about my parents or my bloodline, Claude,” she refuted calmly. “My Crest was as much a surprise to me as it was to anyone else.”

“You don’t have to play innocent, Teach,” he insisted later that week, having caught her alone after class. “Even if you somehow weren’t aware of it, there’s no way that it’s a coincidence that the one kid the archbishop chose to adopt just so happens to bear a Crest thought to be lost to time. She’s probably been waiting for you to take hold of that sword.”

“I would not presume to guess at her reasons for taking me in,” Byleth stated, collecting the students’ exams from their desks to grade later.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Claude graciously allowed, donning a charming smile while atop his perch on a barrel by the fishkeeper’s stall.

Byleth ignored him in favor of casting her line out again. The scrawny black cat that sometimes sought her out for a share of her fish had settled comfortably at her side, but had growled when Claude tried to approach. Even from his safe distance away from the creature’s claws, the boy was managing to keep up his casual interrogation. “I’m sure I’ll be able to figure out enough just from watching you use that Relic, anyway. You know, the Sword of the Creator is supposedly insanely powerful. There’s even a legend about it cutting a mountain in half. Feel capable of anything like that, Teach?”

The Sword of the Creator was currently at her hip in the special sheath she had acquired for it, dormant and dull. There was no mystical tug from it, no surge of power running through her veins. In truth, she didn’t feel any different now that she had the sword, but she was interrupted before she could say so. “There you are!” called a voice that was unfamiliar to her, but was clearly recognized by Claude, if his wide-eyed genuine surprise was enough of an indication. A tall woman approached them, the crooked smile on her face as sharp as the thin blade at her side. “I’ve been looking all over the damn monastery for you, boy.”

“Judith? What are you doing here?” Claude asked, still sounding shocked. The cat that had been keeping Byleth company fled at the arrival of another person, and she tried to ignore the unreasonable feeling of disappointment its departure left her with. She put her fishing pole away in resignation and considered the newcomer.

“Fetching a certain Reigan heir, actually, and that’s ‘Lady Judith’ to you, boy. The roundtable called a meeting, and the old man is too ill to attend. He wants you to step in for him.”

“Not on his deathbed, I hope?” Claude asked, and Judith shook her head. He turned to Byleth with a small shrug. “Sorry, Teach, sounds like duty calls. I should be back before the end of the month, so don’t go having any fun adventures with the Golden Deer without me.” And then, as if only just remembering himself, added, “Oh, and this is Judith: great warrior of the Leicester Alliance, Hero of House Daphnel, et cetera, et cetera.”

“You’re damn right, and it’s ‘Lady Judith’!” the woman snapped, before turning to eye Byleth appraisingly. “Ah, so your little Claude’s teacher, huh? Has he caused trouble for you?”

“Plenty,” Byleth confirmed without missing a beat. Judith laughed at that, loud and unrestrained, and Byleth found herself liking the woman immediately.

“Sounds like he’s given you at least half the headache he’s given me, then,” Judith said, while Claude pretended to pout. “And I hear you’ve been teaching him how to use a rapier. Is he any good?”

Judith idly tapped the blade at her side, and Byleth realized that it was a rapier. “I have observed a skilled… let’s say a family friend. I think I’ve picked up a few things at least from watching her,” Claude had said when she first started training him with the sword. Judith’s weapon and her apparent familiarity with Claude clicked together in her mind. “He has progressed well beyond my expectations. I am proud of his skills,” Byleth stated, and Claude visibly preened at the praise.

Judith chuckled, a much more ominous sound than her previous laughter. “That so? I’ll have to see it for myself, boy. We’ll find time for a match back in Leicester territory so you can show me what you’re made of.” And just like that, the boy had deflated.

Byleth had enough time to see them off, remaining stoically on the steps of Garreg Mach’s entrance as Judith and Claude slipped through the crowd at the gates. Claude turned and walked backwards just before he was lost to her view, offering a lazy wave as he disappeared behind the throng of people. She felt the corner of her lips twitch upwards as she raised her own hand in farewell, although doubted he would see it past the crowd.

“I think I’ll miss him,” Sothis mused as Byleth lingered on the stairs. “Sure, it always seems like he’s up to something, but at least he keeps this place a little less boring.”

She wouldn’t admit to it, but Byleth was partially inclined to agree. Her days in the monastery had all bled together in her mind until she had met him and the rest of the Deer. Still, with Claude and his curious mind gone for a couple of weeks, perhaps she could enjoy some peaceful time to herself for a while.

“Oh hey, Professor!” called a clear, musical voice, raised to a perfect pitch to be heard over the murmur of the busy entranceway. Byleth searched and found the source of the call as Dorothea approached her. “Do you have a moment?”

Or maybe not. “What do you need?” she asked, wistfully pushing thoughts of fishing aside for now.

Dorothea sighed, scanning through the faces of the people milling about. “Just wondering if you’ve seen Caspar anywhere. You’ve met him, right? Little guy, big voice, willing to fight anything that moves, and is apparently very forgetful about appointments? He was supposed to meet me here to come into town with me and help carry back supplies for our class, but so far, he’s a no show.”

Byleth shook her head, and Dorothea rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Looks like it’s just me today, then. Guess I’m making several trips-”

“I can help you.” The words were out before Byleth had thought about it, unexpected to both her and Dorothea.

Eyebrows raised in surprise, the Black Eagle student asked, “What, really?” Chuckling a bit, she added, “Not that I’d turn down the hand, I just wouldn’t have guessed you would offer. Miss important professor with the fancy noble weapon must have more important things going on. I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself on my account,” she said sardonically. “Even before you got that shiny new Relic, you were too important to sit and have lunch with someone like me.”

Byleth stared at her in blank confusion until Dorothea glowered. “What, was that too insignificant for you to even remember? First month of classes, when you all but fled from the dining hall with a heaping plate to eat alone rather than stoop to be in my presence?”

Byleth’s growing confusion only seemed to fuel the glare from Dorothea, until the hazy memory finally surfaced. “…When you first introduced yourself?” Byleth asked, and the girl nodded sharply. “Ah. I recall now, I was bringing that plate to Cyril.”

Dorothea’s anger morphed into cautious disbelief. “…Cyril? That young boy who’s always working himself half to death around the monastery?”

“Yes. He forgets to eat sometimes,” Byleth affirmed neutrally, only inwardly cringing at the misunderstanding. Sure, she could be pretty clueless and blunt in social situations, but what Dorothea had thought wasn’t something that she would… okay, actually, it absolutely was something Byleth would do, but only to someone that had deserved it. “I apologize. I should have explained before,” she added, only just realizing that that would have been an option.

Dorothea only stared for a long moment more before breaking into laughter, one hand raised to her mouth to stifle the noise. “Wow, well, that’s awkward. On both our parts. How about we try the whole first impression thing again? I graciously accept your chivalrous offer of help!”

And just like that, the tenseness was lifted as Byleth was dragged along to the market in town. She soon realized exactly why Dorothea was eager for a helping hand; the list of provisions for the Black Eagle class was staggering, well past what one student could carry on their own. Dorothea led them on a zigzag path through the vendors, handing off bags of food, weapon maintenance supplies, toiletries, and countless other odds and ends to Byleth.

She didn’t mind being the one to carry most of the items; it was a much more appealing task to her than bartering with the vendors. She wordlessly watched Dorothea as she haggled, charmed, and reasoned her way to better prices, sizing up each seller for only a moment before deciding on her approach. When she occasionally turned to the professor for advice or input on a choice between items, Byleth responded with little more than a shrug.

“This is not exactly my forte,” she admitted, eyeing the nearly identical bathing soaps that Dorothea was holding up for her inspection. “Usually we send Leonie to buy our supplies. I am afraid she would have proved more useful to you.” The girl had a seemingly supernatural ability to sniff out the best deals in the marketplace, and returned with nearly twice the amount that others managed on the same budget. Raphael or whoever was available often accompanied her to help carry back her impressive quantity of supplies. Except for Hilda, anyway, who had been banned from market duty after she had once spent half the budget on perfume.

Dorothea gave a theatrical roll of her eyes before replacing the items on the disappointed vendor’s stall, apparently deciding both were unsatisfactory. “Even the archbishop’s golden child isn’t perfect, huh? Honestly, that’s a little comforting. Makes you feel more approachable, knowing that perfect mask of yours has some flaws underneath.” She strode onwards further into town, ignoring the merchant’s calls promising a lower price, and Byleth followed closely behind her steps. “We should spend more time together. I want to see everything you’re hiding.” She turned a winning smile on Byleth, gauging her face for a reaction. When Byleth didn’t have one, she turned back forward with a thoughtful little hum. “Not a talkative one, are you? Well, which was that student you mentioned, Leonie? Hmm, maybe I should see if she’ll come along with me next time…”

Dorothea’s words trailed off and her steps faltered, her pose tensing as her gaze caught on a nearby alleyway, isolated from the hustle of the shoppers. Byleth’s nerves came alight as she stepped beside the student, following her stare to the narrow alley, searching for whatever had put Dorothea on edge. Three young men were hunched at the mouth of the street, their backs to the market, their bodies forming a wall. Past them, Byleth could just make out another person, looking small as the men loomed above them.

Her gaze turned back to Dorothea to see that her previous charming smile had been replaced by a scowl of disgust. “Dogs,” she hissed under her breath. Before Byleth could question what had riled her up, Dorothea turned to face her with a carefully blanked expression. “Follow my lead, okay?”

Although still feeling lost, Byleth didn’t hesitate to nod and fall into step beside Dorothea as she approached the group. She watched in fascination as Dorothea’s entire demeanor transformed while she got closer, her expression and posture changing as easily and suddenly as someone else might switch coats. She wrung her hands anxiously and worried at her lip, wide eyes darting around as if in search of something. Like an actor taking the stage, came Byleth’s unbidden thought, observing her.

“Serah?” Dorothea cried, voice wavering with concern. “Serah! Where are you?” She was near enough now that the men paused and turned to face her as she called, revealing the figure that was trapped behind them. It was a girl around the same age as many of Byleth’s students, looking frightened and curled in on herself defensively. Dorothea did a double take, as if seeing the girl for the first time. She beelined for her, smiling cheerfully, pointedly ignoring the men. “Serah! There you are. Come on, we’re going to be late for the seminar!”

The girl’s expression morphed from one of distress to one of confusion, but she allowed herself to be pulled along out from behind the men when Dorothea took hold of her wrist. Her fear returned when the men followed with her, crowding in Byleth and Dorothea as well.

“Hang on now,” one of them sneered, lips curled up in what he must have thought was a nice smile. “We were just talking. What’s the rush? Come join us. Relax, sweetheart.”

Dorothea’s smile looked charming as ever, but Byleth could recognize a dangerous glint in her eyes. Still, her voice was as sweet and upbeat as ever as she giggled and replied, “Oh, we couldn’t possibly! We’re already running late as it is. But the professor didn’t want to start the seminar without my classmate, here.”

The girl they had rescued, who was latched onto Dorothea’s wrist like it was a lifeline, looked anxiously between her and the men as their smiles only grew wider. “Academy students, huh?” one of them crooned. “It must be so boring cooped up in that monastery all day. Come hang with us for a bit, blow off that class and live a little. We’ll show you some fun!”

Another one eyed Byleth up and down, letting out a low whistle. “That’s your professor? Damn, you gals are lucky! Maybe I would have enrolled if I knew the staff looked like that.” He waggled his brows at her. “You wanna teach me a thing or two?”

Byleth let her hand fall to the hilt of the Sword of the Creator as she considered teaching him what a gut wound felt like. Dorothea stopped her with a quick warning look, before turning her beaming face to the man. “You’re right, we are lucky!” She agreed in an innocent tone. “How many students get to learn from the Crimson Saint, of all people?”

That wiped the smiles off their faces as effectively as a kick to the groin. The man that had been eyeing Byleth dropped his gaze to her Relic weapon as if spotting it for the first time and made a noise like a sentence had died in his throat.

“Oh? Is something wrong?” Dorothea asked sweetly at the men’s newfound silence.

The boldest of the group gave up his pretense of charm and scowled nastily at her. “Whatever. Crawl back to the nunnery, I bet you’re all as dried up as the walls surrounding that place.” The others followed him as he turned to leave; Byleth took a step towards them, which prompted their retreat to turn into a desperate flight, rapid footsteps echoing as they disappeared down the alleyway.

Dorothea’s masked smile vanished from her face the moment they were out of eyesight. “Ugh, creeps. Good riddance!” She turned a concerned look to the girl still clinging to her wrist. “Are you alright?”

The girl’s wide eyes flicked to Byleth before answering. “I’m fine, they just wouldn’t leave me alone. I don’t know if they would have done something or not, but…”

Her quiet voice trailed off, and Dorothea patted her hand reassuringly. “Well, you don’t have to worry about it now. What’s your name, by the way? Hope you don’t mind the one I tried earlier, you look like a Serah,” she added with a playful wink, trying to lighten the grim atmosphere.

“Oh! Um, it’s Melanie…”

“That’s a nice name! It’s good to meet you Melanie, I’m Dorothea.” She gestured her head towards Byleth. “And over there with the blank face is Professor Byleth.”

Byleth nodded at the girl and tried to mimic Dorothea’s reassuring smile, but assumed she failed when Melanie grimaced and Dorothea’s brows lowered in concern. “Are you really the Crimson Saint?” the girl asked, and then immediately looked horrified at speaking the question aloud.

Byleth realized her hand was still on her sword’s hilt. She let it drop passively to her side. “I am simply a professor at the Officer’s Academy,” she said, and watched Melanie visibly relax. She idly wondered which stories the girl had heard about her. Well, for all her battle prowess, she was lost here; aside from scaring off the men, she didn’t know what support she could offer the frightened girl.

Fortunately, Dorothea was not so lost. She hooked her arm around Melanie’s and suggested, “Why don’t we walk you home? We were finished shopping, anyway.”

The girl seemed worried about imposing on them, but Dorothea insisted and soon enough they were walking arm in arm through the town, Dorothea chatting away as if they were old friends while Byleth followed at a respectful distance, not wanting to scare the girl any further. Melanie stole occasional worried glances back at her; after one such quick look, she whispered something to Dorothea. The student giggled and whispered back. Byleth didn’t catch the exchange, but the girl seemed much less nervous afterwards.

When they reached Melanie’s house, she said farewell with a quick embrace with Dorothea. “Come say hi if you ever make it down to the southside bakery! My family owns it, I’ll give you all the free biscuits you can eat. It’s the least I can do to thank you for the help earlier.”

Dorothea shook her head, still smiling. “I’ll have to pay a visit sometime, but don’t you worry! It was the least anyone could do! You take care of yourself, alright?”

Dorothea’s smile slipped away as she and Byleth wordlessly turned to make the trek back to Garreg Mach, expression unreadable as she got lost in her thoughts. Byleth mindlessly tapped the hilt of the Sword of the Creator as she walked beside her, considering the confrontation again.

“I could have taken them,” she mentioned after several minutes of contemplation.

Dorothea was startled out of her own thoughts and turned to her in bewilderment. “What?”

“Those men. They were untrained in combat. I would have won.”

Her confusion turned to exasperation. “Oh, I don’t doubt it, Professor. Men like that are all talk, no spine. But that poor girl was traumatized enough without someone swinging a sword around. I just wanted to get her out of there without escalating things.”

“Ah. I see.” They walked in silence down several streets while Byleth turned that over in her head. Dorothea was less surprised when she broke the quiet again. “I suppose you have discovered another flaw of mine, then. I could not have accomplished that with words. I am glad you were there. You are very kind, Dorothea.”

The student laughed at that. “Oh, don’t you start flattering me, Professor! A girl won’t know how to handle herself if you keep talking like that!” She smiled, but her eyes were sad. “Besides, it wasn’t kind. If anything, I was being selfish.”

Byleth blinked. If that could be considered selfish, then she truly was at a loss for understanding people. “I do not see how that is,” she admitted, but Dorothea simply shook her head.

“Don’t you worry about it, Professor. Let’s change the subject back to you, shall we? If you have so much trouble with words, there’s always other ways to get your intentions across, you know.” Dorothea winked conspiratorially. “I bet anyone would fall all over themselves if you gave them a gift. Do you visit the greenhouse often? You could grow some lovely flowers there…”

~~~

By her second week visiting the greenhouse, Byleth could admit that Dorothea may have been onto something. She had felt a little silly when she first picked out a small plot and scattered the seeds she picked up at the market, but watching the tiny green shoots rise from the earth as a result of her work was oddly satisfying. Her plants were still small, but growing faster than expected. It seemed like each time she visited, there was something new to the flowers, from a freshly grown leaf to an extra centimeter or two.

She was kneeling down to admire how well they were coming in when she became aware of a presence at her back.

“Pick up a new hobby while I was away, Teach?” Byleth turned to see Claude looking over her shoulder with his usual grin. “Were things really that boring without me here?”

“Just finding new ways to enjoy this rare and precious quiet time,” Byleth deadpanned back. Claude reeled back in mock affront, hands clasped to his heart. She rose to her feet, brushing off the stray dirt from her fingers against the side of her pants. “Welcome back, Claude. Did you just arrive?”

“More or less. I got back a few hours ago but had to take care of a favor I owed someone for some valuable information last month.”

“…Do I want to know what that entailed?”

Claude was regrettably immune to her piercing stare. His grin only grew wider, hands resting comfortably behind his head. “Probably not. Anyway, I hear the archbishop is ready to assign our class’s mission for this month. Shall we pay her a visit? I’m curious to see what she has in store for us this time.”

Byleth agreed with a simple nod and led the way out of the greenhouse, unwilling to spare a glance back to her young and vulnerable flowers while she felt Claude’s eyes boring into her.

The mission sounded simple enough, Byleth decided as Rhea debriefed them. Corner some thieves in their tower within the Kingdom, retrieve the Hero’s Relic that they had stolen, and ignore the fact that the bandit leader was the disinherited Gautier heir and that she might once again be killing a family member of one of the Blue Lions. No problem for the sword of the church and her group of accomplished students.

“One last thing,” Rhea mentioned, pulling Byleth out of her thoughts. “Given that the Relic is a powerful weapon indeed, it is only fitting that we meet this transgression with appropriate force. We will be sending one of the Church’s most capable knights with you. I believe you have met Gilbert before, my child. He hails from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and will prove a valuable asset in breaching Conand Tower. I have sent for him, and he should be arriving here presently in case there is anything you wish to discuss before departing.”

As if on cue, a knock resounded on the tall doors of the audience chamber. When the guards opened it to let the visitor through, however, the man that walked in was not the older red-headed knight that Byleth was expecting.

“Jeralt?” Rhea asked, staring in shock at the captain of the knights as he approached. Dimly, Byleth noticed that Claude did not look nearly as surprised by the unexpected arrival. “The summons were for Gilbert. What is the matter?”

Jeralt sighed and ran a large armored hand through his hair, every bit the tired captain whose plans for the day were just ruined. “Right, about that. It appears that Gilbert just started suffering from… stomach troubles. Seems like he ate something that didn’t agree with him. Doesn’t look like he’ll be of much use in the field right now, he’s on lavatory duty.”

Rhea simply continued staring at the captain, her expression one of vague dread, while Seteth’s mouth curled in distaste at the crude explanation. “No matter,” the archbishop stated, rallying her thoughts. “We have many capable knights that are familiar with Faerghus territory. Catherine-”

“-Is still at the Western Church with most of the Knights of Seiros, dealing with the agitators there,” Jeralt cut in, looking resigned. “Believe me, I’ve already scoured through the knights looking for a commander that can handle this. There’s no one available that’s familiar with Kingdom territory.”

“Except for you,” Seteth pointed out, voice chastising. Beside him, Rhea looked as if she might also be sick.

Jeralt let out another loud sigh. “Yep, I was worried someone would point that out. I wasn’t expecting my position to entail babysitting when I rejoined the Knights, but there aren’t exactly any other options here. I’ve been in that area of Faerghus before, I can keep the kids from getting lost.”

Seteth crossed his arms, tilting his head back to stare down Jeralt. “While I regret the imposition on you, Captain, I remind you that it is your sworn duty to assist on any missions you have been assigned to. Given these circumstances, you are to accompany By-” he caught himself suddenly, switching to her title, “the professor’s class and help deal with these bandits. Would you agree with that assignment, Lady Rhea?”

Even with all eyes on her, Rhea was silent for a long moment. As if she could not bring herself to speak, she simply gave one weak nod.

Claude’s expression was one of carefully constructed mild interest as he regarded the proceedings. “Well, that’s not a bad deal for the Golden Deer. It will be a treat to see you in action again, Captain. Wouldn’t you say so, Teach?”

Byleth desperately wished to know Rhea’s thoughts, but the archbishop would not meet her eyes in that moment. At last, she turned to bow her head to the captain. “Very well. I look forward to working with you on this mission, Captain Jeralt,” Byleth said, working to be the picture of professional politeness.

Jeralt gave her a tight smile in response.

Chapter Text

Byleth gave her class one day to prepare for the journey to Conand tower. They packed quickly, used to her orders to move out shortly upon receiving a mission. Leonie was even visibly excited when Byleth checked in on the students, eager to work so closely with Captain Jeralt this month.

Byleth was much less eager to work with the peculiar and enigmatic captain. She still couldn’t quite place her feelings towards him, and Rhea’s strange reaction towards letting him accompany the Golden Deer concerned her. But even with her misgivings, she could admit it would be interesting to see him on the battlefield once again. If her experiences fighting at his side at Remire were anything to go by, Jeralt had very much earned the fearsome reputation he had garnered.

The morning of their departure, Byleth was pleased to find her class already assembled at the gates, checking over the convoy and conversing with the battalions they were assigned for the mission. Jeralt, already astride his massive destrier and prepared to depart, was leaning down to talk with Claude and Leonie. Byleth added her own pack to the horse-drawn cart of supplies and mentally ran through her checklist, making sure everything was set for the journey, when she heard light footsteps rapidly approaching her.

“Byleth!” Flayn called, hurrying to catch her with a bundle carried in the crook of one arm, as if worried that the group would depart in an instant. She took a moment to catch her breath before speaking. “Your destination is in the Kingdom, correct? Even at this time of year, it can get awfully cold there. Please take this!” Flayn proudly offered her gift, and Byleth could at last make out that the crumpled mass of fur and fabric that she held was a coat.

Byleth took it and held it out to inspect it while Flayn beamed at her. She knew little of fashion, but even she knew that the elegant fur-lined coat, while pretty, was several decades (if not centuries) out of style. Still, Flayn looked so happy that the only thing Byleth could do was to nod appreciatively and neatly fold the coat to pack it among her things.

“I am glad to have caught you before you left! Brother and I were both concerned about you heading north and catching a cold. Oh, and be sure to visit a bakery while you are there! I have heard that the sweetbreads in Faerghus are a treat indeed.”

“I cannot guarantee that I will have the time to visit one, but I will bring you back a loaf if I do,” Byleth promised.

Flayn gasped in delight, hands clasped together. “Would you? I would very much appreciate it, I have always wanted to try one myself!” She wrapped her arms around Byleth in a quick embrace, stepping back before the professor had a chance to fully register or consider reciprocating the gesture. “Well, whether or not you pick one up, come find me when you return, okay? I want to hear about your journey!”

And with that Flayn was off, departing just as suddenly as she had appeared. Byleth watched her weaving through the crowd until her green curls were lost from view. When she turned back to finish her inspection of the convoy, Claude had materialized at her side with a grin.

“Hey Teach, just delivering the word that the Deer are ready to march on your orders.”

She hummed an acknowledgment, turning her focus back on the cart. “Excellent, thank you, Claude. We will depart shortly.” She checked over the cart one last time, ensuring the packs inside were secure and the wheels were undamaged. When she finished with her task, she found Claude still staring at her, expression thoughtful. “…Was there something else?” Byleth asked.

Claude startled, as if not realizing that he had remained in place. “Oh, uh, just thinking about something, is all.” At Byleth’s inquisitive head tilt, he rubbed the back of his neck and continued, “Well, I’d swear I never see your expression really change, but… I was just thinking that every time I see you talking to Flayn, it’s like you light up somehow. It’s nice. You really care about her, don’t you?”

Byleth fought off the inexplicable urge to fidget as she considered his words. “Flayn has been very kind to me since her arrival at Garreg Mach. Since the moment I have met her, she has always treated me as…” she searched for a word for a long moment, before finally settling on one that she was unused to using but felt right nonetheless; “…family, I suppose. I appreciate her.”

Claude hummed, nodding pensively, before his face split into a wide, teasing grin. “You know, I’ve seen you get that same look in your eyes when you’re working with our class, Teach. In fact, I thought you might finally crack a smile the other day when Marianne mastered Physic. Does that mean that the infamously merciless Crimson Saint has a soft spot for her students?”

That observation surprised her. It was rare for anyone to comment on her expression unless it was to point out her lack of one. Did she really look different when she was teaching?

Claude mistook her contemplative silence as a refusal to speak and laughed good-naturedly. “Alright, maybe I’m teasing you a bit, but you should know it’s mutual. The Golden Deer wouldn’t be the same without our Teach, and we appreciate you.”

“Oh,” Byleth said, and then was at a loss for any other words. She didn’t have much time to search for them; Captain Jeralt called for her, asking if she was ready, and then they were off. Claude fell back to chat with his assigned battalion as they marched, leaving Byleth to her thoughts.

She wondered if that last comment had just been Claude teasing her even further. Her students had been progressing well, but Byleth attributed that more to their own efforts than her lackluster skills as a professor. She did what she could to encourage and instruct them, but she knew she had never been particularly personable. She just had to hope that what she could do was enough for her students.

Their march proceeded with good time, but they were not so far north as they made camp for the first evening that the notorious bitter cold nights of Faerghus were upon them yet. Still, Byleth instructed the Deer in constructing a wide, slow-burning fire, wanting them to have the practice before the heat of the flames became a necessity.

Even without a chill to force them to huddle close to the heat of the campfire, the group naturally gathered around it during their supper of provisions. Despite the looming battle they were marching towards - or possibly in spite of it - the students kept up a cheerful air as they ate, chatting and joking about everything and nothing. Byleth was content to remain silent and listen in to the aimless conversation, chewing her own meal slowly. Across from her, on the other side of the fire, she noted that Jeralt was also largely quiet, gaze flicking between his food and whoever happened to be speaking at the moment.

During a lull in the conversation, Leonie sighed wistfully. “A good campfire like this always puts me in the mood to hear stories.”

Claude smiled at that. “There’s something I can agree with! There’s nothing in this world that go together as perfectly as a fire, a feast, and some good storytelling.” He held up his portion of tough venison jerky and added ruefully, “Well, we’ve got two out of those three here, at least.”

Leonie snorted and then turned hopeful eyes upon Jeralt. “Ooh, Captain, you should start! You could tell us about your time as a mercenary, I bet you have great stories.”

Jeralt raised a skeptical brow. “Doubt that. I moved around a bunch and sometimes got paid to fight people. I’m not particularly eager to spin a tale out of that.”

Leonie was far from dissuaded. “Oh, come on! I bet it was loads more interesting that you’re making it out to be. Why don’t you start off with the tale of protecting my village from those poachers?”

“Alright. A noble paid my group to get rid of some poachers near a village in his territory, so we did. …The end.”

Claude chuckled while Leonie frowned. “Well, that’s going to be hard to top. How about you, Teach? Any tales to regale us with from your time working with the Knights of Seiros?”

Byleth glanced up from her food to find hopeful, expectant gazes on her. Even the captain’s attention was on her now. She shook her head. “Not really.” Despite her spotty memory, the battles she fought always stood clear in her mind. She could easily recall each move she made, every motion of her opponents, blows she had avoided and, more importantly, blows that she had not and what she could do to improve herself for the next fight. But the actual why’s and who’s and where’s of those battles, the details that would make for a story rather than a lesson, all blurred together for her.

The smile on Claude’s face remained. “If you’re not going to entertain us with a story, how about a song? I’ve been dying to hear the one from the Red Canyon again.”

A chorus of groans from his classmates met his request; some good-humored, some exasperated. “You’re still on about that?” Leonie huffed. She leaned towards Jeralt to explain, “he’s been keeping this weird running joke going since our first class mission, insisting that he heard the professor singing when no one else was around.”

“Hey, now! What makes you think I’m being anything less that perfectly honest?” Claude insisted, but between his mischievous grin and his tone only playing at being hurt, he was far from convincing. If Byleth hadn’t known full well that he really was telling the truth, even she wouldn’t believe him.

Hilda snorted. “Claude, if you keep telling everyone that you’re dishonest, then you can hardly blame them for taking you at your word.”

Claude laughed, still entirely unoffended. “Guess you’ve got me figured out, then!”

The conversation flowed naturally from there, the students back to talking amongst themselves, and Byleth could breathe a little easier with the focus back off of her. Across from her, Captain Jeralt looked similarly relieved to not be questioned further. When he caught her looking his way, he smiled wryly and shrugged as if to say, “Kids, right? What can you do?”

She wasn’t sure if her own miniscule change in expression properly conveyed, “I do not feel enough kinship with you to share in this sentiment together, although I must admit to similarly feeling out of place here, while still carrying fondness for these students. Nonetheless, I am happy that they have each other and seem to be bonding well, whether or not I feel comfortable being included in it,” but he seemed satisfied enough to have gotten any reaction from her.

~~~

The careful scouting of Conand Tower revealed no surprises. It was a straightforward fort, designed to repel an army through the use of strategically placed archer holes. But Byleth didn’t have an army, and against a small brigade of thieves that had yet to detect her group’s presence, that would prove advantageous. As the tower had no additional escape routes that she could find other than the main entrance, her best course of action would be to storm the building with her small force, trapping the enemy inside as she worked her way up. Between her students and their modest battalions, there should be just enough room within the tower to allow for her own force’s maneuverability while preventing any escape from the cornered bandits.

The reports of the thieves having solid armor, provided to them by the wayward Guatier once-heir, gave her some pause, but with the magic users within her class she didn’t anticipate much problem.

Especially if her pet project was proving fruitful. From her group’s concealed location in the forest at the base of the tower, Byleth turned her gaze from the ancient stone back to the house leader beside her. “Do you feel ready to use that in a real battle?” she asked, gesturing with her chin to the rapier hanging on his belt.

Claude’s answering expression was half-grimace, half-grin. “Oh, yeah. Judith made sure of that right after the Derdriu roundtable meeting. If I thought you were a cruel taskmaster, it’s nothing compared to what happens with Judith and rapiers. I would still prefer keeping my distance from people who would enjoy stabbing a sharp object through my soft body, mind you, but I believe I can hold my own well enough.” With a wink, he added, “Besides, I’d rather watch that legendary sword of yours in action.”

The Sword of the Creator was strapped to her side, its eerie red glow dimmed outside of battle. She brushed her fingertips against its hilt, remembering how it felt using it in the Holy Mausoleum. She planned on using it once again against Miklan; although he should not be able to wield the full strength of his own stolen Relic without a Crest, she did not wish to risk her own students in a battle against that powerful weapon. “Keep focused on your own battles, Claude. Distraction invites death,” Byleth warned as she turned away to find Jeralt and begin the assault.

It was difficult to keep to her own advice. As she and Jeralt took the lead through the tower, fighting their way ever onward, Byleth spared as much attention as she could to watch her students. The bandits they faced were better organized and more properly trained than any they had faced before. Byleth had already once called upon the power of Divine Pulse when a well-hidden ambush took her group by surprise halfway up the tower; it was a small mercy that she was able to rewind time before she had to witness a bandit’s axe cleave through Lysithea, who was left exposed by the thieves’ flanking.

When time snapped back into place and the ambush was sprung again, Byleth was ready. As the axe came down, Byleth caught it with her own blade, buying her student enough time to retreat to safety. The heavy steel of the axe grated ominously against the strange material of the Sword of the Creator as Byleth competed against the raw strength of the bandit; a match she was losing, as the blades sunk closer and closer to her face. Her opponent’s expression grew smug as he saw his victory approaching.

His smirk vanished as a lance was driven through his chest. Jeralt swung his weapon wide, dislodging the impaled corpse from his spear. “I got your back,” the captain assured her, taking a defensive position at her side.

Byleth always preferred action over words, and the battlefield provided her that option. She flicked her wrist in a motion that disconnected the segments of her Relic sword and lashed out with it like a whip. It sung through the air and connected with its target, slicing the throat of an archer that had been preparing to take a shot at the captain. Jeralt turned to her with an impressed expression as the bandit dropped, and she nodded to him briskly. And I’ve got yours.

The captain stayed near her side as she protected the rear while her class and their forces continued to advance, wary of other surprise attacks. That wariness proved valid, as small groups of bandits that had been patrolling the grounds closed in from the tower’s entrance. Byleth and Jeralt attained a natural rhythm as they repelled the assault; the Knight Captain would lead with wide, powerful attacks while Byleth protected him from any opponents trying to take advantage of the openings left in his guard from his brash onslaught. His lance carved destruction through the bandits while Byleth choreographed the flow of battle around them, the Sword of the Creator streaming through the air like a dancer’s flowing ribbon.

A commotion of ragged cheers and shouts dragged her attention back to her students further along the wide corridor. The defensive line of Lorenz’s battalion had been breached by a broad-shouldered man in heavy armor, with stark red hair that left little doubt of his identity as Sylvain’s disinherited brother. In one tightly gripped fist was the Lance of Ruin, twitching and writhing as if it was just as eager for bloodshed as its wielder. Lorenz was quick to see the danger and rushed forward to challenge him, but jeering bandits were short on their leader’s heels, intercepting the noble as Miklan strode with purpose to the class’s exposed clerics.

Byleth spared only a quick glance for the Knight Captain. “Go!” Jeralt called, having witnessed the dangerous situation developing. “I’ve got this lot.” As if to emphasize that claim, he jabbed his spear heavily against the shield of an approaching armored bandit, knocking the man off balance long enough for the captain to finish him off with a strike through his helmet.

She needed no further assurances. Byleth twisted her way through the clash of bodies and blades, making haste to reach Miklan before he could use that pilfered insidious lance against her students. She was still too far away to stop him when he closed in on Marianne.

A sharp scraping sound grated through the air as a thin blade jabbed out, sparking across the back of Miklan’s armor. The man sneered and turned to face his challenger; Claude smiled widely in return, slipping back into a fencer’s position with his rapier held alight in one hand. “Shall we dance?”

Miklan responded with a snarl and a wide sweep of his lance, which Claude had to leap backwards to dodge. The following overhead strike he twirled left to avoid; the spear thrust he caught and redirected with his blade, continuing to step left around the larger man. “Stop moving around and fight me, you little coward!” Miklan yelled, swinging wide with the Lance of Ruin.

“I don’t think I will, actually,” Claude returned, ducking the blow. Byleth was close to them now, but hesitated to join. As effortlessly as Claude appeared to be dodging, in reality she knew how deadly close the Relic was getting to taking a limb or his life. One misstep would have fatal consequences for him, and Byleth did not want to be the distraction that caused his end. Miklan lashed out again, and as Claude rolled to avoid the attack, Byleth noticed something. She was almost directly at Miklan’s back now, and could see that the armor covering his right arm had come loose as he swung the weapon, coming undone due to a slashed binding near his shoulder. The cut in the leather binding was precise and clean and very recent; had Claude done that with the strike he had used to get the man’s attention…?

The next wild jab of the Lance of Ruin was too fast for the house leader to dodge elegantly. He dived left, only just managing to keep his head, but ending up sprawled on the ground, defenseless as Miklan smirked down at him. “What’s wrong? Never had to fight your own battles, you spoiled little kid?”

“Hey now, there’s nothing wrong with a little help from a friend,” Claude responded blithely, still forcing a smile on his face. His eyes flickered quickly to Byleth, and at last she understood.

Miklan raised his spear to finish off the boy in the same moment that the Sword of the Creator lashed out. The banished Gautier screamed a curse as the legendary blade cut deep into the exposed flesh of his right arm, spraying the ground with crimson drops. It was only with sheer determination that Miklan kept hold of his Relic weapon as he whirled to face her, free hand gripping the wound tightly. “Enough!” he spat. “I built this crew from nothing! I claimed what should have been mine by birthright with my own hands, with my own strength! You think this is how it ends?”

The unnerving writhing of the Lance of Ruin doubled in intensity, the Crest Stone embedded within it shining a bright, dangerous red. And then it grew, amorphous twisting tendrils the color of charred flesh snaking out along the lance as if searching for something. Claude, seeing what was happening and wisely guessing it was something he did not want to be near, scrambled to his feet and backed away, eyes wide and intent on the macabre scene.

Miklan did not seem aware of what was happening to his weapon until a seeking tendril brushed against his fingers. “What the-?” His confusion turned to panic as the rest of the mass converged on his hand, racing up his arm and covering his body within seconds. The ongoing fight between the bandits and the Golden Deer’s forces came to a standstill as his wretched screams tore through the air, everyone held still in horror as the mass continued to grow. When Miklan’s cries of agony morphed into bestial howls of rage, most of the bandits dropped their weapons and fled, streaking down the hallways with terrified glances back over their shoulders at the unrecognizable monster their boss had transformed into.

“That form…” Sothis whispered in the back of Byleth’s mind, watching with her as the beast took shape. From her tone, it sounded like the creature reminded the girl of something that she couldn’t quite place, but Byleth was certain she had never seen anything like it before. It hunched as if unsure whether to stand on two legs or four, its massive claws slashing out towards any movement while its glowing red eyes darted about, deciding on a target for its aggression. Miklan had been a tall man, but this beast was unnaturally huge, in danger of scraping its armored head against the high-vaulted ceiling whenever it reared up. “Don’t just stand there slack-jawed!” Sothis chided, snapping out of her own trance. “That beast must be stopped here, or else it will surely rampage through the nearby villages! Gather your wits and your forces, dolt! A coordinated onslaught should stagger it.”

Byleth didn’t waste time questioning how Sothis knew that. “Everyone! Ready your battalions!” More than one hired sword had appeared as if they were considering fleeing along with the bandits; her students looked scared as well, but Byleth felt a small swell of pride as they heeded her order and rallied the forces under their commands. “On my mark, hit that creature with everything you’ve got!”

The beast’s howls grew louder, threatening to drown out the students’ orders to their battalions. Byleth sucked in a tense breath when it prepared to charge into Hilda and her forces; it was the Knight Captain that saved them, charging in to strike at the creature’s haunches. Jeralt’s lance sparked as it scraped across the beast’s metallic hide, not quite managing to injure it but at least causing the distraction necessary to prevent it from attacking the student. With a growl, the beast slammed its tail into the captain; Jeralt braced in time to keep his feet as the clumsy blow shoved him back.

“Now!” Byleth called, seeing the opening Jeralt had created. Magic blazed and arrows soared as her students attacked together, the beast screeching at the disorienting assault from all directions. It didn’t have time to recover before the melee fighters joined, swords and axes and lances and fists crashing against its sides in a cacophony of blows. Great hunks of its armor plating sloughed off under the attack, crashing against the hard stone floor in a thunderous rumble. As blades pierced its exposed skin, drawing out streams of unnatural dark blood, the beast howled in pain and fury. It snapped at its assailants with the ferocity of a cornered wolf, its long teeth coming terrifyingly close to the withdrawing students. The creature did not relent as the people around it drew back; it raised one twisted arm into the air, readying a heavy strike with all of its weight aimed right at where Leonie and Raphael were trying to pull a collapsed soldier back onto her feet.

Byleth made her calculations and struck out with the Sword of the Creator within the span of a breath. A single blow still wouldn’t be enough to finish off the beast. She knew that. But she also knew that those vicious claws would tear through flesh as easily as her sharp pocket knife could open the soft belly of a bullhead catfish, and she was not willing to let her students fall victim to that. The sword lashed out in a blaze of red light as heat seared under Byleth’s skin, a power that she now recognized as the Crest of Flames within her veins surging in response to her urgency.

The beast that was once Miklan roared as a deep gash opened across its shoulder, turning its focus onto its new attacker. Byleth was still retracting the sword back to its hilt when the creature smacked her away with the back of its hand, swatting her away like a fly. She had barely registered that the hit sent her flying when her back smacked against the wall behind her, her head bouncing against quarried stone as she heard a startlingly loud crack.

In the next moment that Byleth was aware of, she was facedown on the floor. She blinked, not remembering the slide from the wall to the ground where she was. Slowly, she managed to push herself up with her arms. She was distantly aware that she should probably be feeling pain, quite likely a lot of it. Her hair, falling like a veil around her face, was clumped and matted with blood, and her body was resisting her orders to move, move, get up.

Over the ringing in her head, she could clearly make out the panicked voice of Sothis. “Stop! Stop trying to move and use a Divine Pulse! Hurry, before you kill us both!” But even though the sound was clear, the words only made some sort of vague sense, refusing to collect into Byleth’s mind to form a cohesive thought. Her trained ears instead focused on the sounds of battlefield chaos. Familiar, worried voices were calling out “Professor!” while a much gruffer voice yelled her name, pitch raised in fear. And over all of that, an inhuman scream rung out.

The beast. The beast was still alive and her students needed her. The increasingly desperate pleas from Sothis became background noise as Byleth willed her disobedient limbs to move. She needed to get her feet under her so she could stand and protect her Deer, but her legs wouldn’t stop trembling. It was with frustratingly slow progress that she finally pulled herself into a kneeling position; she was halfway to standing up when her right leg gave out, shot through with a sharp pain that could only mean a broken bone.

The ground rushed up to meet her as the world turned dark.

Chapter Text

The world was moving. Not shaking or jolting around, but with a steady and methodical sway. The lulling consistent motion was the first thing Byleth became conscious of. It was a slow awareness, like watching a sunrise and not quite being able to pinpoint the moment that the orange glow on the horizon gave birth to the sun. Although Byleth’s waking experience was much less pleasant than that, for the second thing that she noticed was the smell.

It wasn’t an overpowering aroma, but the trace of it kept getting stuck in her nose. It was reminiscent of clothes worn during a heavy training session and left unwashed for a week, mixed with an old pair of leather work gloves hanging in the stables for students assigned to raking duty.

When she huffed out a heavy breath to try to dislodge the smell, she felt the world shift a little. “Hey there,” came a quiet, deep voice nearby. “Are you waking up?”

As if the question awakened her sense of hearing, she became aware of sloshing sounds in time with the rhythmic swaying that had first eased her into consciousness, along with a constant pattering sound that may have been rain or may have been several dozen cats pattering around on a roof; either struck Byleth’s groggy mind as equally likely.

A gentle nudge reminded her that a question had been asked. She didn’t remember what that question was or what to say to in response, but Byleth still attempted to answer. Her mumbled reply sounded unintelligible even to her own ears, but it seemed to get the attention of the asker. The swaying motion and the squelching noises from below her stopped, and in their absence she at last pieced together that it had been the movement of someone walking. “Ready to rejoin us in the world of the living, kiddo?”

The same voice from before, but now as she regained her senses, she recognized the speaker. Her eyelids felt heavy as her eyes slowly opened, and her sight confirmed what her ears had suspected. Captain Jeralt’s scarred face hovered above, close enough that she easily could have reached out her hand and touched it, if she had any inclination to do so and if her limbs didn’t feel like lead. He was carrying her like she weighed nothing, one arm at her back and another under the bend of her knees, like one might carry a slumbering child. Rainclouds hovered in the sky above him, releasing a small downpour that had already turned the ground into mud. The orange tunic that Byleth had never spotted the captain without was gone from his shoulders, leaving his armor exposed to the rain. With a glance down, she saw that the garment had been tucked around her instead, keeping the worst of the rain off of her and fending off the bitter cold air; she wrinkled her nose distastefully as she realized it was the source of the lingering horse smell that had offended her in her first waking moments. Byleth attempted to speak again, this time managing a drawled out, “Wh- what…”

The corner of the captain’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Hey, don’t worry. Despite your best efforts, you’re safe now.” Her mind was slow to process the words. Safe? Why wouldn’t she be safe…?

Her memory supplied a towering monster and young voices raised in high-pitched shouts, and at once her sluggishness turned to panic. Adrenaline gave her the energy to struggle and thrash, but the captain’s grip on her only tightened in response. “Hey!” he shouted as her fist jabbed feebly at his jaw; she still couldn’t get enough leverage or gather enough strength to make it hurt. Byleth felt the arms below her shifting as Jeralt shuffled her into a one-armed cradle hold, using his freed hand to restrain her wrists. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re just gonna get yourself-”

“Let GO!” Byleth spat back, redoubling her efforts. When she couldn’t tug her hands free of his grip, she lurched forward to bite his arm. He simply moved it back out of her reach. “Put me down!” she insisted, switching to kicking at him. Her right leg refused to cooperate at first; when she forced it to lash out, she heard a splitting sound and hissed as her leg throbbed with pain. Jeralt cursed and released her wrists to try to restrain her legs instead. She used her newly found freedom to push at his chest, trying to shove her way out of his grasp. “The students!” Her voice was nearly a screech now. “Where are my students? I need to help-!”

“Teach!” Never had such an informal nickname brought Byleth such hope to hear. She stopped thrashing – which earned a sigh of relief from Jeralt – and turned her head towards the voice. There they all were, her Golden Deer students further down the muddied path that the captain had been walking on, turned back with concerned faces as they witnessed the scene she was creating. Her overwhelming relief at completing a mental head check and finding them all present and unharmed was rapidly replaced with mortification as they stared.

“Ah.” She willed as neutral of a voice as possible from her raw throat, hoping to save what dignity she could. “Right. I trust you are all well?”

Claude let out a short, unbelieving laugh. “You just woke up after getting knocked out cold, and you’re asking how we’re doing?” His smile for once was genuine, if a little sad. “You really are something else, Teach.”

“That ‘something else’ is ‘needlessly reckless,’” Jeralt grumbled, setting her down on the driest patch of grass he could find underneath a nearby tree. “And I can’t believe you’ve already broken your damn splint!”

The comment drew Byleth’s attention to her aching right leg. She must have broken it after all; two thin planks of wood, likely scavenged from crates within Conand Tower, were roughly bound to her leg with scraps of yellow fabric to keep the limb rigid, preventing her injury from getting worse. Her attempt to kick the captain had split one of the old planks and loosened the bindings. Jeralt heaved an aggrieved sigh as he undid the rest of the tied fabric before addressing the students. “Alright, uh, cleric girl! Yes, you with the blue hair. Come help me with this. The rest of you keep heading on to the convoy and prepare it for the journey back to Garreg Mach.”

Marianne broke from the group to hurry to Byleth’s side, hunching her shoulders defensively as she passed by the captain. Jeralt quirked an eye at the gesture but refrained from commenting on it, opting to focus on searching the nearby trees for a suitable branch to fix the stint. He paused in his work when he noticed the rest of the students had yet to move, still hovering to keep an anxious eye on their professor, much to Byleth’s further chagrin. “Oh, for the love of…” he grumbled, loud enough only for Marianne and Byleth to hear. In a voice raised to an authoritative shout, he called to the Deer, “Unless one of you lot has spontaneously developed the magical ability to mend bones, you’re not gonna be able to help out here! Move it, go do something useful! I’ll get your teacher back to you in one piece.” The chastised class scrambled to follow the order, a few yelling back calls of well-wishes to their professor as they disappeared down the wooded trail.

Jeralt shook his head in exasperation at their retreating forms while Marianne knelt at Byleth’s side to inspect the injury. A reverberating crack! alerted them that the captain had found a branch he was satisfied with a moment before he appeared at Byleth’s other side with the stick in hand. In part because she wanted the information and in part because she wanted to shift attention away from her earlier actions and current predicament, Byleth asked, “What happened with the beast?” She noticed Marianne’s hands, absorbed in the task of administering a healing spell to her leg, twitched as she asked.

Jeralt shrugged noncommittally, replacing the broken plank with the branch. “The thing was half-dead and disoriented after you hit it. It didn’t take much to finish it off for good. It morphed back into Miklan’s shape after it died, and one of the noble brats is carrying the Lance back so we don’t have anyone else turning twenty feet tall and very angry. We’re gonna take it slow on the trip back to the monastery, though. Even with Faith magic that bone isn’t going to be fixed right away, so you’ll be keeping off of your feet.”

His tone allowed for no argument, but Byleth was about to deliver one anyway when Marianne interjected with a tearful, “I’m sorry!”

Both captain and professor stared at her in surprise. “What for?” Byleth questioned.

The girl was unwilling to meet her gaze, staring mournfully down at her knees instead. “I’m not a good healer at all, I should have been able to do more to help you!”

Byleth was still formulating a proper response to that when Jeralt asked, “Kid, what’s your name again?”

While Byleth glared daggers at the captain for not already knowing this information, her student quivered as if he had just asked her to hand over a knife so he could stab her with it. “M-Marianne…”

“Marianne,” he repeated, nodding to himself as if committing it to memory. And then, “Right then. Okay, listen, Marianne. I’ve been at this life for a very, very long time now. I’ve seen countless battlefields and seen people killed in every way that you can imagine. You wouldn’t doubt my expertise, would you?” The girl vigorously shook her head, the color draining from her face. “Good. So believe me when I say this.” He clapped one hand against Byleth’s back and declared, “This idiot would be dead if not for you.”

Before she could consider how best to retaliate against his word choice, he continued to a wide-eyed Marianne, “That was a nasty head injury she got. You had good instincts to break away from the rest of the students and help her right away. You saved plenty of lives today with your magic, including your reckless professor’s here. You did good, Marianne.”

Marianne shook her head again, this time much more somberly. “You don’t have to say that…”

“You’re right, I don’t!” the captain agreed. “I’m not invested in how well you do in the academy, I’ve got no reason whatsoever to offer you false comfort. I’m sayin’ this because it’s the honest truth, and if you can’t see that for yourself, then someone ought to point it out for you. Now let’s finish up here and catch up to the others, alright?”

The student swallowed hard and nodded, dropping her gaze to hide the wetness of her eyes. When Byleth’s splint was set and Marianne worked on administering a Mend spell to it, the professor noticed her hands were no longer shaking.

She caught Jeralt’s gaze while her student wasn’t looking and nodded to him in thanks for easing the girl’s worries, earning a small but pleased grin from the captain in response.

~~~

The captain stayed true to his word on keeping Byleth off her feet while her leg healed. When the group set out to return to the monastery, she was set up in the horse-drawn wagon, her back against the domed canvas and her injured leg propped up on the least moldy pillows her class had scavenged from the old tower. The convoy was slow moving, whether out of mindfulness to her or because the rain had worsened the poorly maintained dirt paths, Byleth couldn’t say. Jeralt had sent a small group of soldiers ahead with their fastest horses to report to the archbishop on the successful completion of the mission, along with news of their delay.

Byleth was not well suited to sitting still for long periods of time. Even with the light drizzling that pursued them seemingly no matter how many miles they traveled, she found herself wishing she was walking along the trail with the others. At least the slow ride gave her time to consider the quiet presence lingering in the back of her mind.

I can feel that you are awake, Byleth prodded. She knew she was heard, but the entity haunting her head remained petulantly silent. She sighed softly and rested her head back against the wagon’s cover. Sothis, I am sorry. When I acted as I did in the fight against the beast, I was not intending to put you in danger.

“You FOOL!” Sothis snapped. Byleth blinked, and suddenly the girl had appeared before her, her translucent form perched on a tall crate of supplies as she scowled down at the professor. “You think that is why I am upset with you? Are you truly so lacking in even a single shred of self-awareness? I keep thinking there is no way you could surprise me further, and then you continue to astound me once again with just how thick your skull is! Though perhaps I shouldn’t begrudge you that, as without that thick skull, your brain would be naught but a decoration on the wall of Conand Tower. Assuming you even have one, you infuriating dunce!”

The wagon seemed even more silent than before with Sothis’s tirade ringing in Byleth’s ears. So I am correct that you are upset, she noted; Sothis’s face turned red as she held in a scream. You could just tell me why, if you want me to understand.

The girl dragged her hands down her face in exasperation. “Must you really make me say it? Byleth, you are my one connection to this world. And although you frustrate me to no end at times… well, at other times, I must admit that I could have been saddled with a much worse companion. When it felt like you were dying, of course I was scared of what would happen to me. But I was also worried for you, you nimrod! I don’t want you to die, either.”

Byleth didn’t know what to say to that, but was spared from needing to find words. Sothis sighed as she felt Byleth’s surprise through their bond. The anger dissipated from the goddess at once, leaving her just looking tired. “Is that such a shock to you? You truly are miserable at discerning how others feel about you.” Sothis turned her head to stare out the opening of the back of the wagon. Byleth followed her gaze to where her students marched along the road with the caravan, close enough that she could see their gestures and expressions as they chatted among themselves, but far enough away that she could not hear them.

“I still had my awareness after you lost consciousness, you know,” Sothis stated, still watching the students. “Not as clearly as when you’re awake, but I still had a vague sense of what was happening, and I could hear your little ones as they fretted over you. When you went down, they were just as worried for you as I was. I already knew that they were precious to you, but now I also have no doubt that you are precious to them.” When Sothis turned back to face her, there was an ancient weariness in her eyes that starkly contrasted her youthful appearance. “If you find it so difficult to care for yourself for your own sake, will you at least try for the sake of others who care about you? It would be quite selfish of you to give those children such a fright again.”

What a strange and impossible assertion the girl had dropped so confidently into Byleth’s lap. That she, Byleth, the inhumanly emotionless Crimson Saint, who was little more than a living weapon meant to cut down the archbishop’s enemies, would be considered precious to others. She was well past the point of refuting her own affection for the students. She had known the open target she would make of herself when she had attacked that beast to draw its ire away from her students; had finally recognized the source of her protectiveness when her first conscious thoughts had been of them. She would be deluding herself to chalk it up merely to duty.

But that that fondness could be reciprocated, to her? It was difficult not to think of that as a delusion.

A shift in weight of the wagon and the sound of groaning wood returned her attention to the open back of the cart. Claude wavered there, arms stretched out at his sides and shifting like a tightrope walker’s as he regained his balance from the running jump that had landed him on the wagon. Once confident that he wouldn’t topple over, he shot Byleth a wide grin and sauntered inward to join her, unaware of his close proximity to Sothis’s projection as he perched on her crate. “Hey, Teach. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting too lonely tucked away in here.” He dug a hand into his jacket and with a magician’s flourish produced two bright apples from its depths. “That, and we just passed by an apple tree that won’t miss a few fruits, and I’d be remiss not to share them.” He tossed one to her with the easy confidence that she would catch it. Her thoughts still were adrift from Sothis’s words, but her reflexes were true as she grabbed it from the air.

Byleth turned the red apple around in her hand as if examining one for the first time. When her gaze travelled back up to Claude as he took a satisfying bite of his own fruit, a question weighed heavy on her tongue: Do you care about me? Infinitely too absurd a thing to ask aloud, even for her. Maybe especially for her.

Sothis glanced pointedly from the boy to the apple in Byleth’s palm, making eye contact with the professor with her brows hiked up high as if to say “I told you so!” Byleth stopped watching the girl to turn her focus back on Claude; his uniform looked so strange without his House Leader’s cape present. When she had realized the connection between its absence and the scraps of bright yellow fabric used to tie her splint together, she had felt a strange mix of pride at his resourcefulness and guilt that her injury had required that sacrifice, even as negligible and replaceable as it was.

It truly would be absurd to ask that question aloud, she decided as she took a bite of her own gifted apple. She already had the answer. She simply needed to start letting herself believe it.

Claude’s visit seemed to open the floodgates. No sooner had he hopped off the back of the wagon, shooting a teasing salute to Byleth, than Lysithea had scrambled up with some difficulty, taking a seat beside her professor to ask her assessment of how well the girl had utilized her magic during the mission. After that, Lorenz had assisted Marianne in mounting the cart, accompanying her as she applied another routine healing spell to Byleth’s recovering leg.

It marked the start of a pattern that would continue throughout the slow days of travel. It seemed like the moment one visitor left her wagon, Byleth would simply blink and find a classmate had replaced them to keep her company awhile, as if the Golden Deer feared that the second she was unsupervised, she would succumb to some new injury. Or perhaps this was simply normal behavior born of friendship; Byleth would be the first to admit she wouldn’t know, but at least the company assuaged her restlessness from needing to sit still for so long.

It was still a great relief to Byleth when, on the last day traveling through Kingdom territory, Marianne confirmed that her leg had mended enough that she could walk. Eager to stretch her legs at last, she accompanied her students on a quick detour through a small southern Fearghus town to refresh their supplies for the last steps of the journey home. Even with the twinge of pain haunting her still tender injury, it felt right to be on her feet again. She wasn’t able to lend much of a hand in carrying the purchased supplies, as her students were quick to snatch any heavy crate away any time she reached for one (including Hilda, who complained that it would be more energy to carry her professor back if she collapsed from overdoing it than it would be for her to simply carry the crate now), but the trip did at least give her an excuse to stop by a bakery and buy a loaf of the sweetbread that Flayn had been so interested in.

When night came, it was accompanied with a chill that brought everyone closer to the their wide campfire as they settled down for the day. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, with a certain comfort brought from having a full belly thanks to the fresh supplies. Conversations between the gathered students flowed as easily as the warmth from the crackling flames.

Hilda stretched languidly from her seat next to Marianne. “Professor, you’re back on your feet for good now, right? So can I take your place on the supply wagon? My poor legs are so tired from these endless days of marching!”

Byleth tilted her head, putting on a show of considering the request. “I suppose so, but only if you break a bone tonight,” she stated, earning a surprised snort from the girl.

Hilda attempted a pout to cover up the sound of amusement. “That’s not fair, Professor! Another day like this and I might just collapse on the road from exhaustion!” As if to emphasize how tired she was, she slumped against Marianne, resting her head on her friend’s shoulder. Marianne froze as she did, expression somewhere between confused and cautiously pleased with the easy contact.

“It is good to see you up and at ‘em, Professor!” Raphael chimed in with an earnest smile. “We all thought you were a goner when that beast hit you. We were really worried, you know!”

Not once in Byleth’s life had a blush been brought to her face, and she was determined not to let this night break that record. “You all handled yourselves excellently throughout that mission, especially with finishing off the beast on your own. You should be proud.” She was grateful that her voice sounded as monotone as ever. The students preened at the rare praise from her, until Leonie made a noise in her throat to get the professor’s attention.

“We did fight pretty well, but we don’t get the credit for taking care of that monster. That was all Captain Jeralt! You really missed out on seeing something amazing; the captain killed that thing with one blow after you passed out! Jabbed his spear right through the beast’s neck! I thought he was going to take its head clean off. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

That was something Byleth hadn’t heard before. She shot a curious look to Jeralt, but the man frowned and waved a hand dismissively, not meeting her eye. “The big bastard was already weak at that point, no need to exaggerate. Don’t you kids have something else to gossip about?” he said, sounding eager to change the subject.

Claude took the chance to direct the conversation. “Nope! We’re fresh out of material, actually. And that’s not helped by the fact that you two haven’t shared any stories with us!” he added, looking pointedly between them.

Byleth sighed gently, too little of a change from a normal exhale to be easily noticed. “I cannot think of any such stories to share, Claude,” she said, because it was still true. She may as well try to find a grain of salt in a pile of sand than try to pull a story from her mind.

Her students were hardly surprised by her declination but still looked disappointed, which didn’t sit well with Byleth. She certainly did not want to be the cause of souring the buoyant mood. Claude shrugged good-naturedly and was about to say something else when she cut in with, “But if there is anything specific you want to ask me about, I will try to answer.” She swept her gaze around the rest of the class, making it clear that the offer stood for them all.

Now she had them shocked. From their stunned silence and wide eyes, she may as well have announced that she was gifting them each with a sack of a thousand gold pieces. Raphael was the first to recover, a wide grin across his face as he loudly asked, “What’s your favorite food, Professor?”

“I have never thought about it,” Byleth replied, but realized that was a bad start to this endeavor and quickly searched for a better answer. “Though I suppose I am partial to fish sandwiches.” Simple, could be eaten quickly, had quite an agreeable taste, and she often had the satisfaction of knowing that she had caught the fish that the dining hall was serving. And thinking of eating fish often brought to mind meals shared with a delighted Flayn. Yes, that was an appropriate answer, she decided.

Raphael nodded sagely, as if she had offered him a well of information rather than two simple sentences. Hilda piped up next with, “When’s your birthday?”

A simple enough question, but she had to hesitate for a moment. She remembered the month, but always forgot the exact date. “Early in the Wyvern Moon,” Byleth compromised, and tried to ignore the way that Jeralt stared hard, brow pinched as he worked at some sort of mental math.

Hilda gasped theatrically. “Your birthday is only a month away and you weren’t going to tell us? I know you’re not a fan of the spotlight, but don’t think you’re weaseling your way out of a party now!”

Before Byleth could object, Claude laughed. “Sounds like you just wanted an excuse to have a party anyway, Hilda. Not that I’m judging, mind you, I just want in on the planning committee!” He turned sparkling eyes onto his professor. “My turn. Teach, do you have any plans for a future beyond the walls of Garreg Mach?”

That, at last, was an easy question to answer. “No. My place is with the Church.” More accurately with Rhea, but the two were nearly synonymous.

Claude waved a dismissive hand through the air as if brushing aside her response. “There’s nothing wrong with expanding your horizons! There would always be a place for your talents in the Leicester Alliance if you ever do decide to stretch your wings.” He said the word your oddly, as if he had started to simply say you before swiftly deciding to correct his word choice.

“My answer remains the same,” Byleth stated. “Although I may be able to fit time in my schedule to check in on former students, make sure their skills do not get too rusty after they graduate.” That earned her more than one rueful grin from around the campfire.

“What was growing up there like?” The question didn’t surprise Byleth nearly as much as the asker. She turned a considering gaze to Jeralt, who was waiting for his response with a look of carefully measured curiosity.

“In Garreg Mach? I would think the long-serving Knight Captain would know well enough.”

Jeralt shook his head. “I’ve spent many years there as a knight, sure, but I wasn’t exactly running through the halls as a tyke. Were you treated well?”

Byleth hummed affirmatively. “Rhea was always very kind with me, and I recall that the faculty often found time to tutor me. I was well-prepared to become the person that I am.”

The captain rolled his eyes. “Okay, great, but I was more wondering if you managed to have a happy childhood in such a rigid place.”

She had to consider that a while. She certainly didn’t recall being unhappy growing up, but she also couldn’t remember being much of anything. It was as if her days had been simply motions and reactions until Sothis had woken up. Or perhaps her somewhat-troublesome emotions had started to stir as she had spent more time with her students; it was hard to say for certain. “I am happy with my life,” she settled on at last.

Jeralt’s expression was as inscrutable as ever as he nodded. “Alright, good. That’s… yeah, that’s good, then.”

More questions from the students rapidly followed, distracting Byleth from wondering about the captain. Ignatz wanted to know which place she had travelled to on a mission had been her favorite, Leonie asked how old she was when she had started training, and on it went.

She was exhausted by the time the queries ran dry, but decided it was well worth it as her students thanked her happily and withdrew to their tents, warmly wishing her a good night. She returned the regards to them as well before retreating to her own.

“I believe you were right about how they feel, Sothis,” Byleth whispered into the dark as she settled herself in for the night.

The response she heard as she drifted off somehow sounded both smug and fond. “I know.”

Chapter Text

Worry, Byleth had decided, was the most inconveniencing feeling she had yet experienced in her limited time dealing with such things.

She had come to this conclusion shortly after returning to the monastery from the Conand Tower mission late at night. She sent her students off with strict orders to catch up on much needed rest and, after waving them off, had set off for the central building of Garreg Mach. Her right leg twinged in complaint on her way up the stairs to the second floor, but thanks to Marianne’s healing magic it had mended enough that the discomfort was a far echo of the pain from the initial injury.

The door to Flayn’s room was easy to overlook, which Byleth had long suspected was a deliberate choice. Placed halfway down a hall that otherwise consisted only of abandoned servants’ quarters in need of refurbishing, it was unlikely that anyone would come across it by mistake.

Byleth doubted that the girl would still be awake, but was eager to hand off the promised Faerghus sweetbread and had elected to check. Finding candlelight slipping out from beneath the door, she knocked lightly and opened it a crack to peek in, quietly so as to not awaken her if the girl had accidentally fallen asleep with the candle still lit.

Flayn was not in her bed, however. Nor was she at her desk, or on the small sofa curled up with a book, or standing by the tinted window that was specially designed to prevent anyone from the outside to be able to see in.

That was when the worry had started, a small seed at the back of her mind as she found Flayn’s room devoid of its occupant at a time when the girl would usually be asleep. It persisted despite the rationalizations Byleth told herself after she had left the loaf of bread on Flayn’s desk and headed off to her own quarters. She was likely just with her brother, helping him with paperwork to make sure that Seteth didn’t stay up working until the early morning hours again. Or she had snuck out to the dining hall for a midnight snack, or was visiting old Tomas in the library. There were dozens of reasons Flayn could have been absent, and not one solid justification for the unease that haunted Byleth as she struggled to put it out of her mind and catch up on her own sleep.

That seed only grew the next morning when Byleth again found Flayn’s room empty. The candle on the nightstand had burned itself out, and the bread she had left as a gift was still untouched. It was possible that Flayn and her brother were with Rhea, but when Byleth went to see the archbishop to deliver her report on the Faerghus mission and to hand over the Lance of Ruin, she found Rhea alone in the audience chamber. Byleth delivered her report automatically and only seemed to hear every other word the archbishop said to her as she spoke, preoccupied as she was with the whereabouts of her friend.

With her nerves already frayed, the sound of the door to the chamber bursting open nearly had Byleth jumping out of her skin, her hand reaching automatically for the hilt of her blade. Seeing that it was Seteth that rushed in brought her no relief when she noted his wild expression, eyes wide with panic and all color drained from his face. Byleth well knew there was only one thing that could so destroy the man’s well-maintained composure, and knew what he was going to ask before he opened his mouth. “Rhea, Byleth!” he called, disregarding their titles in his distress. “Have you seen Flayn? I cannot find her anywhere!”

~~~

Byleth had been mistaken about worry, as it turned out. What she felt since the revelation that Flayn was missing far eclipsed it, a cold dread that permeated every minute of her waking hours and only grew each day that passed with no progress in finding the girl. Almost worse was the guilt that plagued her any moment she did not spend searching. Even twenty minutes spent on eating felt like stolen time that could cost Flayn dearly, and she would likely have started skipping meals if not for the fact that she knew Cyril would track her down with a platter and simply cost them both time and effort.

Seeing Seteth was the hardest part. His skin had gained a sickly pallor, and his eyes had a lost, haunted look to them. When Byleth stepped into the advisor’s room to check in with him at the end of the week, she found him slumped over his desk, face buried in his hands. He did not glance up as she entered and approached him; she thought he was not aware of her until she heard his muffled, despondent question. “Anything?”

She would give up everything in her possession to have a better answer for him. “No new leads yet. The knights are investigating the recent rumors of a Death Knight in case that individual is involved somehow, but they have not found any reliable witnesses. They are continuing to patrol the town and question anyone that might have seen something.”

The only sign that he had heard her was that he seemed to sink even further into himself. Without thinking, Byleth started to reach her hand out, only to hesitate for a long moment. It was only with internal encouragement from Sothis that she pushed forward to clasp his shoulder. The gesture surprised Seteth enough that his face emerged from his hands; distantly, Byleth wondered if she had ever initiated contact like this. “Seteth. I will find her,” she vowed.

A small light returned to his eyes as he met her unwavering gaze. “Thank you, Byleth. She is… Flayn is everything to me. If something happened to her, I do not know what I… Please, find her.”

She nodded once, gave his shoulder what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze, and left to continue searching.

Byleth wasn’t sure why her feet led her back to Flayn’s room, as if opening the door would reset this cruel reality and the girl would be seated at her desk as if nothing had changed. Instead, the opened door revealed only a room left entirely untouched, empty and devoid of any clues that could explain the whereabouts of its absent occupant. Even the Faerghus sweetbread remained on the desk where Byleth had left it, except… she frowned, peering closer at the small green splotches interspersed throughout the crust.

Mold.

Byleth had failed Flayn for so long that the gift she was so looking forward to had grown mold, taunting her with the physical evidence of passing time.

With a burst of fury stronger than she had ever felt, Byleth slammed the door shut, letting a yell of frustration echo through the empty corridor. Only to learn that it was not as empty as she had thought.

“That you, Byleth?” She couldn’t garner enough care to be embarrassed at being heard, especially as it was Captain Jeralt that had appeared at the corridor’s end with a pinched brow. “You alright? I thought I heard something.”

Byleth nodded sharply, willing the man to leave her be. So of course he approached instead, expression growing concerned as he got a better look at her. “When’s the last time you slept, kid? The bags under your eyes are big enough to hold every bit of coin I own!”

“I am fine,” Byleth stated dismissively, willing her voice to stay even. It wasn’t as if she would be able to sleep if she tried to, anyway.

Jeralt frowned deeply. “Look, you need to take care of yourself before you’re able to help others. I know how you’re feeling, but-”

“You have no idea what I am feeling.” She practically hissed out the words, letting her anger crash against the target the captain made of himself. It was almost a reprieve, letting that anger cloud over the cloying dread that had plagued her throughout the week. Even if she had spent her life experiencing emotions fully the same way others seemed to, she was certain she couldn’t have been prepared for this. She would rather experience her worse battle wounds ten times over, stand exposed to a volley of arrows, break her leg all over again than be forced to stew in that helpless dread.

For just a moment, Jeralt’s perpetually guarded expression wavered and Byleth saw anger echoing her own reflected in his eyes. But just as quickly it was hidden again, his face carefully neutral as a small sigh escaped his lips. “Let me guess, then. It feels like you’re walking around with an open wound that’s not scabbing over. You feel like you’d trade places with your friend if you could, and it’s some cruel trick of the universe that she’s gone while you’re here. You feel like you’d tear this entire place down brick by brick if it would save her, while also feeling helpless because what if there is nothing you can do that would save her? Something like that?”

Byleth was silent for a long moment, considering him. “You lost someone.” Even as the words left her, she wasn’t sure if she said it as a statement or a question.

Jeralt seemed to take it as the latter. “Yeah. And I didn’t exactly handle it well, either. But while we don’t yet have any leads as to where your friend has gone, we also don’t have any evidence that she’s been hurt. Hope isn’t lost yet, so don’t give in.” He shook his head as if to ward away the gloomy mood. “In any case, if you’re willing to take this old man’s advice, stop trying to do everything alone. You’ve made allies of some surprisingly clever kids, you know. It was that Riegan boy that discovered the real target behind that assassination plot the other month, I’m sure he could prove useful to you now.”

She really must have been too tired to concentrate; she wouldn’t wonder how he had known that until later that night. Byleth had been sure not to discuss the student’s involvement with anyone outside the class to avoid incriminating Claude for disobeying direct orders. For now, she simply nodded in agreement.

Jeralt nodded back, apparently satisfied. “Alright, good. And hey, I really do hope your friend is found soon. I’ll keep doing everything I can for the search as Captain of the Knights, so you try to spare some of your concern for yourself.” With that, he turned to depart.

I do not know that I have ever seen that man get truly angry before, Byleth mused to Sothis as she watched the departing man’s back, searching for any sign of the emotion that had leaked through his guard for just a short moment.

“Is that what you think?” She could feel Sothis’s consternation echoing her own as the girl watched cat-like through Byleth’s eyes. “Funny. Now that I’ve seen his mask slip, I am struck wondering if we’ve ever seen him without that anger.”

~~~

As it happened, when Byleth tracked him down that evening, Claude wasn’t merely willing to assist her in investigating Flayn’s disappearance: he already had been.

Since Byleth was assigned to work on the investigation (as if she would be willing to do anything else), the Golden Deer had been attending joint classes with the other two Houses during her absence. Claude had taken the advantage to discover what the students from the Black Eagles and Blue Lions might know or suspect. He promised to share everything he had learned, but only after she promised in turn to get a good night’s rest; apparently, her tired state was just as obvious to him as it had been to Jeralt.

It was with a small twinge of guilt and worry that Byleth finally allowed herself to settle in for a full night’s sleep that night, but the feeling did not last long; barely a minute had passed before her exhausted body fell into a deep slumber, and it was not until the sun glared into her eyes from her dormitory window that she awoke.

Despite her late start she still found Claude in the dining hall, just finishing his breakfast as she took a seat across from him to start her own. He smiled at seeing the shadows under her eyes had receded. “Hey Teach, looking refreshed!”

She nodded in acknowledgment and got to the point. “What have you learned thus far?”

“To tell you the truth, right now mostly all I’ve learned is who isn’t involved,” Claude admitted ruefully. “Everyone wants Flayn found and has been cooperative in sharing anything odd they’ve observed, but following up on those suspicions hasn’t yielded much.”

“But you do have something.” Byleth stated it without doubt; Claude was too clever not to have uncovered something in a week of searching.

He grinned, pleased with her confidence. “Nothing concrete, but something, sure. There’s a few people that I haven’t been able to clear: Gilbert, Catherine, and Professor Jeritza, all leads provided courtesy of our friendly Blue Lions house. For all three, information relating to their pasts before they arrived at Garreg Mach is nearly impossible to find, and Gilbert and Jeritza were noted as acting strangely recently.”

Byleth hummed, considering the information for a long moment while she worked to clear her plate. “Gilbert and Catherine have both been with the church for several years. I have worked with them on missions many times. Whatever secrets they may keep, I am not inclined to believe they had a hand in this. What is the reason for the suspicion behind Jeritza?” The weapons instructor was relatively new to the monastery, and as neither he nor Byleth were particularly sociable, her interactions with him so far had been limited to the occasional spar.

“It was something Felix said, actually. He mentioned that Jeritza’s fighting style has been different lately, quicker and much more reckless, like he’d been holding back all this time.” He reached across the table and snagged a strip of cured meat off her plate as casually as if she had offered it to him, munching on it as he continued. “Add to that the mask he always wears and the fact that the Gatekeeper confirmed that he’s been heading into town most evenings and not returning until the morning, and it seems logical that something is going on with him.”

Byleth nodded. “That seems as good a start as any. I will speak with him, see if he has seen anything odd on his night trips.” She had only just started rising from her seat when stopped by Claude protesting.

“Heeeey, hold your pegasi! You’ve done enough on your own already, Teach. Finish your breakfast and let me gather the Deer together so we can work together on this one.” He chuckled when she remained in place, blinking in surprise at him. “What, did you think getting information was going to be the end of it? I told you I want to help, both for your sake and Flayn’s, as does the rest of the class. I’ll get everyone to meet up outside the faculty dormitory area in half an hour so we can work on a plan together after you’ve spoken to Jeritza, alright?”

The thought of their help brought her more relief than she would have expected. “Alright. Thank you, Claude.”

In truth, there wasn’t much Byleth was expecting from meeting with Jeritza. The instructor kept to himself and was hardly forthcoming, so it seemed unlikely that he would have seen anything, or shared it even if he had. And it was unlikely he was hiding anything that would be easy to spot, considering the knights would have already searched his room, as they had meticulously investigated everyone’s quarters during their investigation.

Apparently, the knights had managed to miss the secret stairway hidden behind Jeritza’s bookcase. Byleth couldn’t blame them; she would have missed it as well, if Manuela hadn’t used her last conscious moments after being stabbed to point to it.

It was suddenly quite fortunate that her entire class was close enough that they came running at her shout.

“Raphael, get her to the infirmary as quickly and gently as you can. Marianne, go with him and heal her. Your first priority is getting her safe, but once she’s stable send reinforcements to us.” One person Byleth cared for was already in grave danger; she did not wish to add the woman who had taught her Faith magic and treated her so kindly to that list.

“On it!” Raphael agreed, lifting the professor with ease. Marianne stayed close by his side as he set off, keeping a steady stream of healing magic targeting Manuela’s wound.

Byleth glanced between the rest of her gathered students and the exposed stairway leading down into darkened depths, but Claude saw her train of thought and spoke first. “If you’re about to say something silly like,” he cleared his throat and affected a monotone feminine voice that Byleth was certain sounded absolutely nothing like her, “‘you all stay here where it is safe while I charge into this mysterious and most likely deadly tunnel with no regard for my own wellbeing,’ you can save your breath, Teach. We’re with you.”

Hilda nodded in agreement. “Believe me, the last thing I want to do is go down this freaky stairway. But if the creep who was willing to stab Professor Manuela is down there with poor Flayn, then we have to do something.”

Seeing the same resolution on the rest of her students’ faces, Byleth nodded minutely. “Understood. Stay close to me.”

Flayn was there. Flayn was there. She lay still on the floor next to what appeared to be a student from the monastery, her green curls matted with dirt and grime but her chest still rising and falling with breath, with life. Byleth could have sunken to her knees in relief, if not for the other figures in the chamber. Most of them appeared to be masked dark mages, and judging by the thrum of gathering magic in the air, they had no qualms with fighting to keep their stolen guests.

Although she took note of them, her eyes were fixed on the tall man in twisted black armor, a wicked looking scythe in his grasp. The same man she had seen but avoided in the Holy Mausoleum. The glowing embers of his eyes behind his mask burned into her, watching her the same way she watched him, as if she was the only other being in the room. When he spoke, his voice sounded distorted and unreal. “It’s you… I have been waiting for this since you first took hold of that sword. Come, give me a challenge. By our duel’s end, only one of us shall live.”

Byleth did not bother to respond. He was standing between her and Flayn; it went without saying that he would die. “Cover me,” she said simply to the students behind her as she strode forward to meet his challenge.

Any hopes she had of ending the match quickly were soon dashed. The Death Knight was fast, faster than anyone in such ornate armor had any right to be. Byleth lunged for his flank only to be deflected by his scythe; when she struck high to create an opening, he merely dodged back to avoid her next blow. And then he stepped forward again with a flourish of his scythe and she was the one on the defensive, avoiding his wide slashing by little else than the grace of honed reflexes. The fluidity and range of his weapon was like nothing she had faced before, demanding her full attention to block and avoid. She would have to trust her students to handle the other enemies in the room; it was fortunate that they had proven themselves quite capable.

She hadn’t examined the terrain closely enough; one desperate sidestep and her foot found a slippery tile that had been smoothed over centuries by a leak in the roof above. Her leg slid out from under her and Byleth fell heavily to one knee and in the same instant, the Death Knight swung his scythe for her neck. She dropped fully to the floor and the blade arced just above her head, humming with some arcane energy as it cleaved through the air. Byleth rolled and leapt back to her feet, feeling an odd tickling sensation halfway down the back of her neck, a persistent whispering touch that danced along a line whenever she turned her head. Had he…?

Her suspicions were confirmed as she was showered in dark teal strands and the ruined remains of the red and white ribbons that had been holding her braid together, fluttering sadly down to the grimy stone floor. Byleth had managed to keep her head, but had lost much of her hair’s length in the process.

An odd sound reverberated from the Death Knight, like a chuckle with no real amusement behind it. “I expected more from you. Do not die before I’ve had my fun. I still wish to see the legendary power of that sword.”

The Death Knight stood still, waiting to see her next move, toying with her. Byleth unlatched the Sword of the Creator, letting it coil snake-like around her. “Then watch closely,” she said, lashing out with the relic, aiming for his scythe. The Death Knight did not try to dodge as the sword wrapped itself around his weapon. He let out that same almost-laugh and pulled against her, lightly at first as if testing her strength. Byleth grit her teeth and planted her feet, struggling not to lose ground as he tugged harder. It was a competition of strength that Byleth was clearly not going to win, but she did not relent.

With a triumphant snarl, the Death Knight wrenched his scythe back, intending to yank the sword from her hands, and Byleth took her chance. She leapt forward with the movement and rapidly retracted her sword anchored to the Death Knight’s, launching herself like an arrow straight towards her opponent. The burning glow of his eyes widened in surprise, but he did not have time to correct himself and block before she had reached him, making use of the momentum to drive her fist hard into his mask.

She would have to remember to thank Captain Jeralt for the armguards he had gifted to her months ago. The skull-like mask of the Death Knight’s helmet, crafted more with the intent to intimidate than protect, cracked noisily apart as the steel of her gauntlets crashed against it. Byleth followed him as he fell back against the ground, his grunt from the impact ringing clearly now that his mask could not distort his voice. She did not give him the time to recover before bringing her fist down again.

The last of his shattered mask fell away; Byleth took half a second to recognize the exposed face as belonging to Jeritza before she set to pummeling it.

Her world narrowed in to her fists and her target, throwing all of her weight into each punch as if trying to reach the floor through the man’s skull. Rather than try to escape her assault, Jeritza reached for her, his sharpened gauntlets clawing gashes into her shoulders, as if the pain of her blows was inconsequential compared to his desire to inflict it right back. It wasn’t until the steel armor plating covering her knuckles flattened his noise with a visceral crunch that his own arms twitched and fell limp. Even then she continued striking at the bloody mess below her.

She only stopped when a new distorted voice rang through the room. “Halt. That is enough.”

Byleth sat back to assess the potential new threat, her breath coming heavily. Ahead of her, with the acrid smell of a Warp smell clinging to them, was another armored figure, this one shorter than the Death Knight. His dark armor sharply contrasted his bright white mask, embellished with red streaks that evoked the image of fire. Although he carried a battleaxe and large shield, he held them at his sides in a relaxed stance. He was not looking for a fight, then.

His gaze assessed the still form of the Death Knight, pinned below Byleth. “Dead, then. It appears I have arrived too late. That is… unfortunate.” The same feature of his armor that disguised his voice also masked whatever emotion might be behind those words.

Byleth rose to her feet, leaving the body of Jeritza where it lay and moving to put herself between the newcomer and Flayn. “He was your ally?”

His eyes followed her, but otherwise the masked man made no move. “He was under my command. However, what occurred here was carried out by another’s orders. While I believe it is likely you and I will one day be enemies, I wish for you to know that I had no hand in this. I am the Flame Emperor, and I will create a Fódlan in which no one suffers in the dark as they,” he gestured where Flayn and the girl beside her lay, “and so many others have. Until then, be on your guard, Professor.”

A bright flash of light and the sharp scent of strong magic again, and suddenly the Flame Emperor was gone, warped away along with what foes remained in the room.

Byleth had undergone many things for the first time over the last exhausting week thanks to the consequences of her burgeoning emotions, and yet this day still held many novel experiences. When she checked on Flayn and the mysterious red-haired student and found both uninjured and breathing steadily, a pleased Claude was quick to point out that Byleth was smiling for the first time since he’d met her.

As she and Seteth were left alone in a private ward of the infirmary to watch over a resting Flayn, he surprised her by reaching for her suddenly, pulling her in for an embrace so tight (yet still so careful of the healing scratches on her arm from her fight) that she could feel the slight tremble in him of overwhelming relief. Right beside her ear his quiet voice repeated, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” like a chant. It was with cautious and unsure movements that she wrapped her own arms around his back as well, hugging another person for the first time.

And, once Flayn had awoken and received her own hug from Seteth, Byleth found herself let in on a family secret for the first time, as well.

“Your daughter,” Byleth repeated, as if saying the words herself would help her mind recontextualize the familial relationship.

Seteth nodded, his palm still resting on Flayn’s shoulder as if to reassure himself that she really was there. “Indeed, although Rhea is the only other person who knows. I apologize for the secrecy, but if Flayn’s lineage and her blood were more widely known, she could become a greater target for plots such as this. I am telling you now not only because you are more than trustworthy and deserve to know after all you have done, but also…”

Flayn interjected, her voice still raspy after her imprisonment but bursting with earnestness. “Also you are part of our family! It does not sit right with us at all to keep it from you for even a moment more!”

Seteth attempted an indignant huff at the interruption, but he could not stop an adoring smile from crossing his face as he eyed his daughter. “Well, yes, that is essentially what I was going to say. You are as good as kin to us. I have no doubt that we can trust you with this knowledge.”

Nothing felt like it could be an adequate response to the unexpected gift of happily being claimed as family, so Byleth said the only thing she could think to say. “Thank you.”

Flayn chuckled at that. “I believe it is I who should be thanking you! After all, you did rescue-” she cut herself off with a sudden gasp. Byleth felt a flutter of panic, worried that the girl had agitated a previously missed injury or strained herself too far, but Flayn’s expression contained only blossoming delight. “Cousin! Is that a smile I spy on your face?”

If Seteth had anything to say about Flayn’s nickname for her, it was pushed out of mind by his own surprise. “Heavens, it is! In the nearly two decades I have known you now, I believe that is the first one I have seen.”

The increased attention made Byleth feel like her cheeks were heating up; she focused on returning to her neutral expression, only to be teasingly prodded in the arm by Flayn. “You do not need to hide it, it is nice! I told you once before, I wanted to see you smile someday.” She considered Byleth for a long moment more before adding, “You know, between that smile and your newly shortened hair, you truly do look like an entirely new person!”

Looking between Flayn’s beaming face and Seteth’s warm, proud expression, Byleth felt the corners of her mouth drift back up. “Is that so? I feel like one, too.”

Chapter Text

“It is just... it is a little much, do you not think so?”

Without looking up at her companion, Byleth hummed her disagreement. She tested a pinch of soil in her modest patch of the greenhouse, finding the soft loam to be pleasantly damp between her fingers. Obviously, someone had been looking out for her flowers in her stead over the last couple of weeks; the delicate sprouts had doubled in size since Byleth had last had time to tend to them, and were just beginning to grow pastel bundles of buds. She would have to discover her benefactor's identity so she could thank them for saving the plants.

Byleth could hear Flayn shifting uncomfortably behind her, clearly unsatisfied with her non-answer. “Certainly holding an entire fishing competition for my sake could be considered excessive! I understand that my brother was worried, but going so overboard is… a little embarrassing.”

“The event will be a good way for you to become familiar with the Golden Deer before formally joining the class next week,” Byleth pointed out. “Besides which, Seteth was not the only one worried for you. I believe it will bring many people great relief to do something as simple as fishing to see you happy.”

Byleth did not mention that she herself was included in that count, but judging by Flayn's small grateful smile, she knew anyway. As Byleth stood and Flayn looped an arm about hers to walk with her, her smile became teasing. “Are you certain you are not just saying that because you are looking forward to participating?”

That was a fair point, seeing as this event combined two of Byleth's favorite things: fishing and competition. “I am looking forward to winning,” she corrected, eliciting a giggle from her companion.

For all of Flayn's worries, her uncertainty immediately turned to excitement as the two exited the greenhouse together and witnessed the fishing tourney starting. The line waiting to sign up and receive a bucket of bait from Shamir had a few faculty members scattered amongst the students, while the earliest arrivals were already settled along the pond with a rod in hand. Byleth spotted Ignatz and Leonie fishing beside each other in the nook where the pond edged along the greenhouse, while Hilda, Marianne, and Rapheal kept them company. When Leonie got a bite, her classmates cheered her on as she reeled it in.

But Byleth watched Flayn watching the Golden Deer students. Her eyes shone with shared excitement, but also with what Byleth recognized as longing. Byleth nudged her gently, startling her out of her trance. “You should join them,” she said, nodding to her students.

Flayn's expression flared up with joy before she cautiously tampered it, brow lowered in concern. “I do not wish to leave you alone. And besides, my brother…”

“Would be ecstatic to know his sister is fully enjoying the tournament he set up, as well as bonding with her fellow classmates,” Byleth cut in, determined not to let the girl's worry over her brother's - her father's, she internally corrected, marveling again at the revelation - overprotectiveness. “And do not worry for me, I can join Alois across the pond for company.” Bless that man, Byleth thought, he couldn't catch a fish if it was dropped gently into his hands. If she set out her rod beside him, she could reel in the fish that inevitably passed his hook up.

Flayn beamed brightly and nodded, setting off to join the cluster of Deer. Hilda spotted her coming and greeted her like an old best friend, immediately drawing her into the fold. Byleth smiled gently at the sight before setting off to secure her own tournament bait.

By the time Byleth acquired bait and a rod and set off for the far end of the pond, Alois has already gained a fishing companion. “How in all of creation did you already manage to snag your line?” Jeralt's tone landed somewhere between impressed and exasperated as he watched his former squire unsuccessfully try to yank his hook free from the depths. “What did you even manage to snag it on? It's a man-made pond, Alois.”

“Well, darned if I know, Captain, but she's not budging!” Alois attempted one last tug before giving up, shoulders sagging as he cut the line free with a pocket knife. “And I started with my best bait, too. I had a good feeling about that cast…” He spotted Byleth approaching them and his melancholy evaporated instantaneously. “Why, if it isn't young miss Byleth! Here to fish with your Uncle Alois? That brings back memories!”

“If there is room,” she commented, eyes flicking to Jeralt.

The captain smiled warmly at her. “That's right, I'd heard some of the knights say you liked to fish. Sure, come join us. And, uh, if it's true that Alois was the one to teach you how to fish... well, I'm here if you want to learn how to actually be any good at fishing.”

“Hey now!” Alois interjected. “I might be having a string of bad luck, but if Byleth's skills are anything to go by, I did just fine passing on the art of fishing. Why, I'd say she could even give you a run for your money, Captain!”

Jeralt turned to her with a new spark in his eyes, a spark that Byleth recognized because she was sure it was reflected in her own: the recognition of a worthy challenge.

Alois glanced between them, aware that he was in the center of a sudden stare-down. “Er, of course, this is meant to be a friendly competition, so that's just a manner of speech-”

“You are going down, old man,” Byleth threatened, casting out her baited hook.

Jeralt barked an unrestrained laugh as he recast his own line. “We'll see about that, kiddo, I've been doing this since before you were born! Drinks are on you when I land the winning catch!”

~~~

If the goal of the competition was quantity, Byleth would be winning. She'd reeled in three catches to Jeralt's two, though admittedly he had landed the biggest catch with his queen loach. But since none of their fish was the mysterious species that Flayn was after, the game continued.

“You certainly know what you're doing, alright,” Jeralt admitted approvingly. “The only thing I would say is that when you cast, try flicking your wrist more like this.” He demonstrated the motion, ending his cast with a rapid twist of his wrist that sent his hook sailing in a smooth arc. Byleth copied the motion on her next cast, nodding her appreciation for the technique when her line flew true.

A splash drew their attention to the other side of the pond, where Raphael was helping Ignatz pull in a particularly immense bullhead. Flayn was practically jumping in excitement as they hauled its flailing form onto land with shouts of encouragement from the rest of the assembled Deer.

“I'm glad things worked out, you know.” When Byleth gave him a questioning look, Jeralt gestured across the water. “Your friend, Seteth's little sister. I'm glad you were able to find her.”

“Hear, hear!” Alois agreed. “It's a huge relief to see the young lass returned. And I understand that it was quite the daring rescue! Do you know what they're saying about your battle with the Death Knight?”

Byleth recognized the mischievous lilt of his voice and chose not to respond, but Alois pressed on unprompted. “Apparently, you only just made it out with your neck intact! They're saying that it was…” he trailed off into a dramatic pause and playfully tugged at a strand of her hair, shortened to neck-length by the masked knight's scythe. “...A close shave!”

It took Aloise a few seconds to realize he was the only one laughing at his joke. “Jeez, tough crowd,” he mumbled, glancing between the grimacing faces of his companions. “Well, if my humor goes unappreciated, at least there's always my winning quality of helpfulness! How about I fetch some more bait for us?” He grabbed the pail to return to Shamir for a refill, leaving Byleth and the Captain alone at the pond's edge.

For once, it was Byleth that broke the peaceful silence. “I owe you my thanks,” she said, her eyes drawn back to Flayn with her students. “And an apology, as well.”

“Hm?” Jeralt turned to face her, brows raised in surprise. “What for?”

Her eyes stayed trained across the pond. “The last time I spoke to you, I was... less than kind. But you gave me some very sensible advice and reminded me that I did not have to act alone. It is because of that that I... that we were able to find her in time.”

Even without looking, she could hear a smile in his voice as he responded. “Hey, don’t worry about it. You weren’t exactly in a good place, I don’t blame you for lashing out. If I was any help at all, I’m glad for that.”

A strong tug on Byleth’s line distracted her from a response. Jeralt watched with interest as she hauled her catch from the depths, bringing to surface a large herring with pale green, shimmering scales. “Huh, don’t think I’ve seen that species before,” he commented. “Is that the one Flayn’s after?”

Byleth held her catch aloft, whistling sharply to her students. Flayn startled, looking towards her in confusion before her eyes fell on the fish and brightened with recognition. The girl at once was on her feet, heading towards them at an excited sprint.

“It looks like drinks are on you, then,” Byleth remarked smugly, earning an exaggerated sigh from the still-smiling captain.

~~~

“I have a proposition for you,” Byleth stated simply, sliding into a seat across from Claude in the library one evening.

Claude glanced up at her curiously, marking his place in the book he had been studying with a broken fletching feather before setting it aside. “Oh? What do you have for me?”

She slid the flier she had been carrying across the table to him. “I would like you to be our participant for the tourney this month.”

With a raised brow, he took the parchment from her to read over. “Is it an archery competition, then? As much as I would love to show off, we might benefit from entering Ignatz. I think he could really use the boost from…” he trailed off, expression softly surprised as he read on. “Wait. Interhouse swordfighting competition?” Claude glanced back up at her, eyes searching. “I appreciate the vote of confidence there, Teach, but we both know I’m far from an expert. Maybe we’d be better off ignoring the match this month and focusing on preparing for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. That’s where the real prize is, after all.”

Byleth leaned further back in her chair, letting a small sigh run through her. True, while Claude’s rapid progress with the rapier over the past few months made him the most talented of the Golden Deer with a blade, he was not likely to fare well against students from other classes who had trained with a sword for years. Despite Byleth’s pride in her class’s overall capabilities, that house discrepancy in weapon skills bothered her.

Which was exactly why she had come to Claude today, with the beginnings of her own tentative scheme. “I do not think it would be a wasted effort. But if you need convincing, I can offer an incentive if you win.”

Claude couldn’t quite hide his burgeoning interest at that. “That’s a big if. But I’ll hear you out, what’s the reward?”

Time to put to the test just how well she knew him, then. “A song.” When his expression changed to confused incredulity, she added. “From me. At any time, any place, and any song of your choice.”

His brows furrowed further. “Huh? That’s…” She watched the possibilities come to him, his confusion morphing into inspired energy as a whirlwind of ideas flickered behind his eyes. “Any song? Any time?” She nodded, and watched his face turn mischievous. “You’re serious? I could request the raunchiest tavern ballad I can find and have you belt it out during evening choir?”

“If that was your choice,” Byleth agreed, “but you would not request that.”

“Oh?” Claude grinned at her, eyes challenging. “And what makes you so certain of that? I think it sounds like the perfect form of entertainment.”

Byleth allowed her own grin to form, challenging him in turn. “Because I am your favorite professor and you would not get me fired. Or excommunicated.”

Shock blossomed across Claude’s face at that, a disbelieving snort escaping him. Byleth’s grin faltered - perhaps she had been overly presumptuous after all? - but after a moment, Claude shook his head in resignation. “Damn. You don’t have to make it look so easy to call my bluffs, you know. Well, I’m sure I could still make my own fun with a prize like that. You’re leaving me with a lot of power here if I win, Teach.”

Even if she had been the one to assert his appreciation of her as a professor, Byleth still felt a twinge of surprise at hearing it so casually confirmed. “So you accept?”

Claude’s smirk grew wide. “Oh, yeah. I’m not happy that it was that easy to pull me in, but I can’t pass up a chance like this.”

~~~

Byleth had already known Claude to be a dedicated worker, one who would tirelessly pursue any topic in his studies that stoked his interests. Still, the gusto with which he tackled his sword training surprised even her. In the week they had before the competition, he requested her every afternoon for practice sessions, and stayed to train with the weapon even after she needed to excuse herself to work on lesson plans and grading papers.

Perhaps she had underestimated the lengths he would go to for the promise of entertainment, or perhaps he harbored a competitive streak that rivaled her own. Whatever the reason, by the day of the match, Byleth was eager to watch just how far her student had progressed.

She was far from the only one looking forward to witnessing the competition; the stands were full of excited students, here to cheer on their classmates. In the seat next to Byleth’s own, Flayn was nearly bouncing in place, thrilled to finally have an excuse to join the spectators with her fellow Golden Deer. As the first two contestants took to the stage, the girl’s call of “Good luck, Claude!” was swallowed by the rising shouts of the rest of the crowd.

On Flayn’s other side, Raphael rose to his feet. “You gotta be louder to be heard out here! Like this!” Byleth braced herself as he drew in a deep breath and cupped both hands to his mouth. “GET ‘EM, CLAUDE! YOU GOT THIS!!” Raphael bellowed, loud enough that Byleth’s ears rang with it.

Below, Claude paused in his stretches to wave back to his classmates, earning a few more calls of encouragement from the Deer. Further down along the benches, Lorenz scoffed. “There is hardly any need to stroke his ego further.”

Hilda slapped playfully at the noble’s arm. “Oh, don’t be a downer today, Lorenz. It’s just some harmless fun, and it’s the first time Flayn is with us!” To Byleth’s surprise, that seemed to mollify the boy; he leaned back on the bench to watch the first match with polite interest, and refrained from further remarks as the class cheered Claude’s first victory.

Claude’s second match would prove to be a challenge. His opponent, Petra, was too patient to fall for any of his attempts to bait her, and too watchful to believe a feint attack. It was only by the grace of his quick reflexes that he was able to dodge her attacks until the right opening presented itself, but it was with hard-acquired skill that he broke past her guard for a solid hit to the shoulder. Byleth was tempted to join her class in cheering when the judge called the match in Claude’s favor.

Lorenz finally cracked a smile as Claude entered the final round, but his eyes were on his opponent. “I do not envy our leader’s chances,” he remarked, as Claude and Felix took their positions in the arena. “Schemes will only get you so far against pure skill, which I imagine he is about to discover.”

Byleth ignored the comment, her eyes staying locked on the fighters as they circled each other, sizing each other up.

Even from her distance in the stands, she could see when Claude let a grin spread across his face, too wide to be genuine, his lips moving as he said something to his opponent. Felix’s nostrils flared, and though Byleth couldn’t hear their words, she could imagine the clipped tone the irritable swordsman would respond with. Claude’s grin only grew wider as he said something else, eyes flicking into the stands behind Felix…

Felix’s eyes widened and he whipped around, eyes searching the stands where his fellow Blue Lions were gathered, and Claude took his chance. He dashed forward, training sword raised to strike, aiming for Felix’s back.

Felix recovered quickly at the sound of his approach, whirling back around and catching Claude’s wooden blade with his own, meeting him with enough force that Claude was forced to concede ground. Felix followed him into that space and suddenly it was all Claude could do to defend, guarding against an onslaught of strikes.

There was a tense moment in which Byleth was certain that Claude was beyond recovery, but when Felix’s weapon slashed again for him, he caught it in the guard of his own, and with a quick twist of his wrist - one that Byleth will have to remember to praise him for later - he managed to pivot the sword away and at last dive in with his own desperate strike.

It almost, but not quite, landed. Felix dived into the attack, ducking a bare inch below the wooden blade, and drove his elbow hard into his opponent’s ribs. The blow sent Claude falling heavily onto his back, with no time to move before a training sword was poised meaningfully at his neck. Claude smiled weakly up at Felix, half placatingly, half in self-deprecation, and held both hands up in a sign for yield.

Felix stepped back, accepting it, and a chorus of cheers erupted from the gathering of Blue Lions, punctuated with an ear-splitting whistle from Sylvain. There was a quieter chorus of sounds from around Byleth, small grumbles and exhales of disappointment and sympathy from the Deer. Even Lorenz, who had subconsciously perked up with interest when Claude had caught his opponent’s blade, looked crestfallen at the loss.

Back in the arena, Felix ignored the calls of his classmates to gaze appraisingly at Claude as the class leader rose to his feet and brushed dirt off his uniform. As that same surly gaze turned to the stands to meet her own, her conviction grew that she might yet have a victory on the horizon.

Claude was in one of the arena’s side rooms when she found him, quick to offer her a smile as he let her in. As she entered, he settled back in on a bench pressed up against the wall, reaching for a half-empty vulnerary to continue nursing it. She observed him for a moment as he took a sip, scanning for any visible injuries. “How are you feeling?”

“Physically? Just bruised and a little sore, nothing that this sweet nectar won’t fix,” he said, swirling the infamously bitter medicine for emphasis.

Byleth tilted her head, considering him. “You did well today, Claude. You should be proud.” A thought occurred to her, and she added, “Speaking of, how did you get Felix to drop his guard?”

“Oh, that?” He shrugged ruefully. “That wasn’t my most elegant work. I implied a certain friend of his was getting up to something rather inappropriate in the stands. I figured it wouldn’t give me much time for an opening, but hey, I needed any advantage I could get against him. I’m not too surprised it didn’t work out, but I am a bit disappointed. I was looking forward to making you sing like a canary.”

That earned him a raised brow. “What did you have planned?” she asked, because it was Claude and he most certainly had something planned.

He chuckled softly, amused by her asking. “Actually, I didn’t have anything set in stone. You remember how no one in the class believed me when I told them I came upon you singing back in Zanado? I was going to wait for the perfect moment and have you prove it, yourself.”

Despite herself, the corner of her mouth twitched up at that thought, just because it was so Claude. A harmless plan - not accounting for wounded pride, anyway - that would nonetheless create a rather memorable moment. She could appreciate the elegant simplicity of it; she could especially appreciate it knowing that it wouldn’t come to pass, freeing her from having to be the butt of one of his jokes.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and before either of them could react to it, Felix let himself into the room. He acknowledged Claude with only a brief glance before turning his focus to Byleth. “Good, you’re here after all. I have a request.”

“Hello to you too, Felix,” Claude chirped, amused and unoffended, while Byleth met the swordsman’s stare.

“Yes?” she prompted.

“Let me join the Golden Deer,” he stated without preamble.

In her peripheral, Byleth could see Claude perk up with surprise. “You want to join our class?” he asked, before Byleth could respond.

Felix at last fixed his gaze on the house leader at that. “You didn’t know how to wield a sword when you arrived here, right? You were good today, even without that stupid stunt. Not good enough. But good.” He turned, facing Byleth once more. “I take it that was your work?”

“That was Claude’s work,” Byleth corrected, earning a smile from one boy and a scoff from the other.

“I’m not interested in your modesty. If you could instruct a novice to be that good in just a few months, then I want to know what I could learn from you.”

Byleth met Claude’s eye with an upturned brow, silently asking his input in the matter. Claude met her with a crooked smile and a one-shouldered shrug - Sure, why not? Could be interesting. She nodded in acknowledgement and faced the prospective student. “Alright,” she agreed. “Welcome to the Golden Deer.”

Felix gave one curt nod at that. “Excellent. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, and the training grounds right after that.” He turned without another word, leaving just as suddenly as he had arrived, leaving silence in his wake.

After a long moment, Claude broke the quiet. “Well, that was unexpected,” he remarked, still sounding faintly amused. When Byleth only hummed noncommittally in response, he stared at her in dawning suspicion. “...Unless it wasn’t?”

She failed to keep a stoic expression at that, a self-satisfied smirk cracking across her face.

“No. Hang on.” Claude’s eyes went wide as the realization sunk in. “Wait. You… Teach, did you plan this?”

Byleth turned to face him fully, aware that her grin was growing wider. “I thought this might occur, yes. The Golden Deer could always use more talent, especially with the Battle of the Eagle and Lion coming up.”

Claude shook his head slowly, still in disbelief. “Gods, that’s why you gave me such an incentive to win.”

“I did not need you to win,” Byleth supplied. “I needed you to face Felix, and to do so skillfully. As you did. I would have been pleased if you had won, of course, but I am still quite proud of your performance.”

He frowned as he considered that. “Wait. So would you have actually gone through with your end of the bargain if I had won?”

The question stung enough for her to lose her grin. “Of course. You would have earned it. And I do not go back on my word, Claude.”

He let out an almost-chuckle at that. “Right, I know that, I don’t know why I asked. I think I’m just still in shock that Teach just schemed. And not only that, but that your scheme used me and I didn’t catch on.”

That last incredulous statement was enough to drain the rest of the levity out of the situation for Byleth. After all her years of not understanding other people at all, she had gotten so caught up in the idea that she might know her students well enough to guess at their actions. She was so focused on if she could pull this off, if she was actually gaining an understanding of how people worked, that she had not stopped to consider their feelings on the matter.

Guilt stabbed into her like a knife through the ribs. “Oh. Claude, if I went too far…”

Somehow, her start of an apology seemed to be the greatest shock to Claude. “Do you think I’m upset?” He did laugh then, alight with mirth as he shook his head once again. “Maybe I should be? But honestly, I’m just kind of proud. I didn’t know you had it in you! Man, this opens up a world of possibilities. Imagine what we could come up with if we actually put our heads together for the next one!”

Relief washed through her, bringing a softer smile to her lips. “Perhaps I just have a terrible influence in my life. Still, I am happy to hear it. You’ve got a good heart, Claude.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck abashedly, but his smile stayed in place. “Aw, gee, Teach, don’t get sappy on me! I-” Claude stopped abruptly, staring at her with widened eyes. “Wait. Say that last part again?”

Byleth tilted her head, confused in turn. “...You have a good heart?”

Claude continued to stare, his grin slowly creeping back in place. “Hm. No, that’s not how you said it the first time.” The statement did nothing to help her understand his meaning, and he seemed uninclined to clarify. “You know, I think you’re right. We all are rubbing off on you, aren’t we?”

He hopped up from his seat, stretched languidly, and made his way towards the door, clapping a hand briefly on her shoulder as he passed. He paused at the threshold to throw her a salute, his own self-satisfied smirk now firmly in place. “Well, nothing wrong with that. Catch you later, Teach!” he called in a sing-song, leaving Byleth alone and perplexed.

Or maybe not entirely alone. At the back of her mind, Sothis hummed thoughtfully. “...Oh! I see what he caught there. My, that boy really does notice everything when it comes to you, doesn’t he?”

Perhaps this was the karmic results of her meddling. Would you like to share this revelation with me, Sothis?

The goddess merely giggled at her. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Chapter Text

The evening crowd of Garreg Mach’s connecting town was in full swing as Byleth picked her way through the streets. She recognized knights and students alike, wandering amiably through the town in search of entertainment after a hard day’s work, heading towards their favorite pubs as most of the stalls and shops closed down business for the day.

The excited hum in the air grew more and more distant as Byleth ventured further towards the outskirts of town, and seemed to stop completely as she crossed the threshold of the old inn. The Shining Grace appeared much the same as it had when she had first stepped foot into it several months ago. With the pilgrimage season well over, the tavern was sparsely occupied, and several days’ accumulation of dirty tracks on the floor clearly traced the favored paths of the few regular customers who patronized the bar.

And at the same isolated table in the same isolated corner as her previous visits sat one Captain Jeralt, with the same expression of surprise as she casually took the seat across from him. “Good evening, Captain,” she greeted, not unkindly. “Do you mind if I join you?”

His expression faded from shock to something warmer. “Not at all, be my guest, Professor. I hardly ever see you outside of the monastery walls, though. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She felt her lips curve up and wondered if her smile at that moment might resemble one of Claude’s, all teasing lilt and sharp edges. “I seem to recall a certain bet over the fishing tournament. Something about the loser owing the winner drinks?”

Jeralt barked out a short laugh. “Fair enough, you earned it. Can’t say I was actually expecting you to come collect, but on the other hand, I also wasn’t expecting you to win.”

“Consider this a lesson on underestimating your opponent, then.”

“Ha, am I one of your students now? Well, that’s a lesson well-learned,” he agreed as he waved over the bartender.

The ale that was placed before her still smelled how she remembered, sharp and unappealing, but she found that it was easier to swallow. Perhaps she was getting used to the taste, or perhaps it was knowing that it would at last be the captain paying for it instead of stiffing her on the bill that made it just a bit sweeter.

Jeralt watched her over the rim of his own mug as he took a drink. “You know, you seem different lately.” When Byleth stared at him inquisitively, he continued, “The first few months that I was here, I hardly ever heard you speak, and I certainly never saw you smile.”

“Ah.” Conversation was easier when she wasn’t the topic; her eyes drifted from his, examining details of the tavern instead. “You’re not the first to point that out. I suppose my students must be rubbing off on me.” Her gaze caught on the hanging painting above the entrance, an artist’s interpretation of the goddess. A stark reminder of her half-truth; how much of her changes were influenced by her Golden Deer, and how much by Sothis awakening within her?

The captain smiled to himself at her answer, unaware of the turn her thoughts had taken. “Heh. Sounds like you’re settling in to your position as a professor well. It’s funny how much company can change a person.”

There was something nostalgic in his voice at that last sentence. Byleth turned to him again to find that he was now the one gazing off into the distance, a faint wistful smile on his lips. She thought of their conversation in the days that Flayn was missing and latched onto the change of topic. “You’re referring to the person you mentioned? The one you lost?” Jeralt flinched as if she had reached across the table and struck him, and she immediately regretted speaking. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, before he could respond. “That was insensitive, it’s not my place to-”

“It’s fine,” Jeralt cut her off, “it’s fine. I just- it’s not really something I’ve talked about before.”

It sounded like an invitation, one that Byleth was hesitant to take. She couldn’t exactly be anyone’s first choice for a sensitive conversation. But the captain had gone quiet, nursing his drink while he waited for her questions, and anything would be better than the uncomfortable silence. “Who were they?”

A simple enough question, she had hoped, but Jeralt took several seconds to brace himself for the answer. “My wife.”

If Byleth had a heart, it would have sunk to her stomach. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were married.”

Her words still sounded insensitive to her own ears, but Jeralt nodded as if he was expecting the comment. “We kept it pretty quiet. Only a handful of people within the church knew about it.”

“Within the church?” she echoed.

Jeralt paused for a long moment, one thick finger tapping the table with such force as he deliberated that she could hear his shortened nail clicking against the wood. He seemed to come to a decision all at once, and his words came in a rush. “She was born there,” he said, and Byleth did not need him to clarify to know he was speaking of his wife. “In the monastery. And she never left it. She wished to, she used to dream of seeing the world, but she was… she would get sick so easily. Lady Rhea made it clear that the monastery was her home, and she could never stray too far.”

A smile crept up on his face, his words slowing with nostalgia. “So I would seek her out, tell her stories from my travels, bring her gifts to get her to smile. Goddess, she had a smile. It was like the whole world was brighter when she was happy. And she was so kind, and so, so smart. How would anyone not love her? After we married, we planned on traveling together, that she would finally get to experience the world for herself too, and there was nothing I wanted more than to be by her side to experience it with her, but… Have you noticed that Rhea has projects?”

The question was such a strange turn from what Byleth had taken to be a reminiscent ramble that she could do nothing but stare.

The captain frowned slightly. “I suppose that’s an unkind way to phrase it, but it’s not inaccurate. Lady Rhea has people that are… special to her. That she pays particular attention to. And when someone like that cares about you, when someone that seems so incredible and good sees the best in you, it feels like the best person you can be is whoever they want you to be. Sitri-” His words broke off and he glanced to her, wide-eyed and wary, as if he had just stumbled into a trap. She didn’t know what reaction he was watching for, but when she only continued to stare at him quizzically, she could not tell if the slump of his shoulders was relief or disappointment.

“My wife was one of those people,” he continued, something like bitterness in his tone. “So when Lady Rhea said we should wait, that we should stay safe and stay close at hand, make a life for ourselves within Garreg Mach, we trusted that she knew best. Besides, we thought we had all the time in the world.”

All trace of nostalgic joy was gone from Jeralt’s voice as he concluded with that last sentence, and in the lonesome silence that followed as the captain drained his ale and raised his mug for a refill, Byleth mulled over his words. The captain had procured another drink to sullenly sip on by the time she stated, “That isn’t true.”

The captain blinked at her slowly, as if he had nearly forgotten her presence. “About Rhea,” she insisted. “She cares deeply for all of Fódlan’s people, not just a select few. And she would never force someone to make a choice against their wishes.”

“Oh, she cares for all of Fódlan’s faithful people, alright,” Jeralt countered, bemused, “but can you truthfully tell me you can’t think of anyone who adores her so much, they would disregard their own desires and wellbeing to make her happy? Say, for example, a certain Almyran kid that spends every waking moment tending to the monastery?”

Byleth wanted to argue, but several recollections of needing to bring Cyril food when he was too engrossed in his self-imposed tasks to eat, or insist that chopping firewood could wait for the morning and he needed to sleep, caused her to bite her lip. She knew the captain was wrong, she just needed a moment to find the right words to prove it.

Jeralt did not give her that moment. “Or, say…” He trailed off meaningfully. Byleth glared, knowing what he was about to insinuate, daring him to say the words. He met her challenging gaze with an unimpressed expression. He lifted one hand off the table, twirled it slowly, and lazily gestured, palm up, across the table to her. Like you.

“You don’t know anything about me, and you don’t know anything about her,” Byleth snapped. It sounded petulant and juvenile even to her own ears, but her growing anger had pushed her well past her ability to counter with any eloquent thoughts.

Jeralt’s temperament degraded to match hers, his brows heavy and nose scrunched with no-longer suppressed frustration. “I’ve known her since long before you were even born, and I know what she’s like because I was one of her little projects, too.”

The statement was such a surprise, it melted the worst of her fury into confusion. She tried to picture a younger Jeralt serving happily at the archbishop’s side, and a younger Rhea who was thrilled to have him there and showed that appreciation with soft smiles and kind words, but she was stuck on the roadblock of seeing them as they were with each other now: secretive, stiff, and untrusting.

“She never told you how we met, did she?” The captain’s voice had calmed, but his bitterness was still clear in his posture. “Some years back - I couldn’t tell you how many - I was working for a mercenary group that was hired to give the Knights of Seiros a little extra muscle to escort the archbishop on a pilgrimage. We were on some backwoods road in Kingdom territory when the ambush happened, and in the initial confusion, one of the attackers managed to get right up to Lady Rhea. I was young then, and I didn’t really think before I moved to take the blow; truth be told, I probably would have done it for anyone. It should have been a mortal blow, and I was certain I was going to bleed out on that dirt road. I was losing too much blood for any healer to be able to save my sorry ass, but Rhea - well, she was determined not to let me die. And by the Goddess, she didn’t. What she did, at the time I thought could only be a miracle.”

He was apparently uninterested in explaining further. Jeralt sighed heavily and returned to his drink, leaving Byleth time to contemplate how the relationship between two people who had saved each other’s lives could have soured so. Perhaps the captain had already supplied her with that answer tonight - the way he spoke of his late wife, it was clear that she was beloved by both him and the archbishop. If they had all been close, then Rhea and Jeralt would be a painful reminder to each other of shared tragedy.

Jeralt spoke again, interrupting her thoughts. “I used to think the world of Lady Rhea. I would have done anything for her, fought anyone for her, carried out whatever justice she deemed necessary, because I was certain she could use me to make a better world. But after all the years I’ve worked for her and after everything I’ve done, nothing really changed in the world except that one incredible person never got to have the life she deserved.” The fine line of anger in his face melted as he met her gaze, leaving a deep weariness behind. “I just… I don’t want anyone else to give up a life they could have had to stay by Rhea’s side, acting out only her desires.”

Jeralt slumped forward on the table, pinching at the bridge of his nose in aggravation. “Ah, dammit. It feels like we always end up arguing when we talk, doesn’t it? When I saw you come in, I was so determined to be on my best behavior and not push your buttons. So much for that.”

His voice was so genuinely remorseful, Byleth immediately felt her own sting of regret. “I… didn’t exactly come here wanting to pick a fight, either. I’m sorry. I think, sometimes, we’re just too similar.”

She wasn’t aware she felt that way until she had said it; judging from the high arc of Jeralt’s eyebrows, he was just as surprised by her words as she was. “Yeah? Well, I guess we can both sure be stubborn dastards,” he quipped, and she smiled slightly in concession. He perked up suddenly, twisting in his seat to reach in a coat pocket. “Wait, shit. Speaking of being on my best behavior, I have something for you. Let me give it to you before I forget.”

He pulled out a nondescript parcel and placed it on the table while she eyed him curiously. She took it hesitantly, looking from the slender object to the captain. It was wrapped simply in brown paper and twine, and she knew what it was from its cross-shape and weight even before she pulled apart the knots to free it.

The paper fell away to reveal a plain, black-hilted dagger. She slipped it out of its blue dyed sheath to examine the blade itself; good steel, and a sharp edge, designed for practicality over ornamentation. Its only concession for aesthetic was the eye-drawing color of the otherwise plain sheath.

The captain read the question in her eyes before she asked. “It’s your birthday tomorrow, right?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s nothing special, but that dagger has helped me out through some tight spots before. I’m usually not prone to such beliefs, but I started thinking of it as a good luck charm at some point. The way you attract trouble, I thought it might do more good in your hands.”

“You did not need to get me anything,” Byleth stated, mystified - partly out of surprise in receiving a gift from the captain, and partly because she had completely forgotten that it was her birthday tomorrow. She slipped the dagger back into its sheath and offered it back to him, hilt first. “Besides, giving away your charm seems like you’re just asking for something bad to happen to you.”

Jeralt chuckled but held his hands up between them, a clear refusal to take the gift back. “Don’t worry about me. Normally I would say I’ve lived a long life and it would just be my time, but right now I’ve got a few too many loose ends to tie up to go out without a fight.” He smiled and leaned back in his seat, letting his hands fall back to the table. “I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

Byleth hummed thoughtfully, pulling the dagger back towards herself. “If you are certain, then I accept. Thank you, I find that one can never have too many knives.”

“See? Someone that says things like that probably needs all the luck they can get, anyway,” Jeralt declared, eyes shining with good humor.

Byleth allowed herself her own smile as she put the dagger away. The sound of a door opening reflexively drew her eye to the tavern’s entrance; beyond the haggard stranger collecting himself in the doorway, the streets were dark and vacant. The evening had decisively crawled into night.

Byleth rose to her feet with a stretch. “Apologies, Captain, but I should be heading back. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

Jeralt raised his brows. “Tomorrow is Saturday, isn’t it? Not even taking it easy for your birthday? I need to teach you how to slack off one of these days.”

“Well, let me know the next time you want to disappear for a couple of decades to try mercenary work and I’ll join you, see how that works out.”

Her voice came out more monotone than intended - she had never been good at invoking the cadence of a joke. Jeralt grinned anyway, all teeth, clearly recognizing the comment as a tease and not an attack. “Ha! Careful, Professor, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Her breath escaped her in an amused exhale, the corner of her mouth lilting up. She nodded to the drinks on the table and said, “And I trust you have those covered?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it. I’ll add it to my tab,” Jeralt assured her, his words attracting the baleful gaze of the bartender.

She lingered, then, stuck on words she didn’t know how to say. She wanted to thank him for his trust in sharing some of his past, give some consolation about his late wife, apologize again for getting defensive even if she stood firm on her belief in Rhea. What she managed was an emphatic “I will see you again, then,” and hoped her paltry words carried her meaning well enough.

The way the captain smiled warmly at her, she could believe he saw through her well enough. “Looking forward to it.”

On the quiet trek back to the monastery, the conversation continued to play in her head; she turned it over and over in her mind like a puzzlebox, as if if she found the right angle, the captain would no longer be an enigma to her. Jeralt had revealed much to her tonight, and yet she was certain he had kept just as much close to his chest.

Unbidden, her thoughts turned to the last joke they shared, of a reality in which they worked as mercenaries together. It was startlingly easy to picture, images of an untethered life on the road flashing through her head feeling almost more like memories than imaginings. It would have suited her well, back in her colorless days before Sothis had awoken and she met her students.

She shook her head as if to clear it, willing her thoughts back to her life as it was. Her hand slipped into her inner coat pocket, fingers tracing along the gift she had tucked away, physical evidence of her odd meeting.

A lucky dagger to keep her safe, huh? A little superstitious maybe, but still a nice, practical gift.

Especially considering she had plans to trespass on holy ground in the morning.