Chapter Text
Now that she thought about it, the full force of the situation’s absurdity hit her. A man falling out of nowhere, caked in blood, impaled by weapons no one has used for ages, and surviving? Had it been anyone else to relay the news to her superior, Seteth would have outright retired the agent for concocting something so crazy and dealt with the situation himself. Instead, upon hearing a description of the man, he had demanded that the stranger be brought to their organization’s infirmary over the phone.
“No public hospitals,” he had ordered cryptically before hanging up.
Byleth had obliged and now, the two of them stood side by side observing the group of healers in the private operating room through a large glass window. One of them was studying a bloody lance- or half of a lance- that he’d just removed from the stranger with great confusion. Another held their hand out above the stranger’s body, a familiar glow emanating from their hand. Byleth recognized the powerful healing spell in the works. She’d been told the only time they’d used it on her was around the time she was born.
“What did you mean when you said he fell out of nowhere?” Seteth asked, finally turning to her.
Byleth paused, but couldn’t really find another way to describe it. She shrugged. She may have been one of Garreg Mach’s best agents, but even then, words weren’t exactly her specialty. Besides, how did one even go about describing such a thing? She guessed that even Ashe, who was both an agent and famous writer, would have trouble with it. She had no new information. Only what she’d told him earlier: that there was a young man about her age, bleeding out, missing an eye, who had fallen on her doorstep from out of thin air. There was also the fact that his hair vaguely reminded her of Dedue’s private stock of uncooked noodles, but she wasn’t about to mention that to her boss. Seteth sighed and was about to ask a new question that might get him an actual answer when the door to the room swung open and hit the hard wall with a dull thud.
“Ah, Jeralt,” he acknowledged.
The man grunted in response, his eyes spotting Byleth a short ways off, “You alright, kid?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Good,” he said shortly.
”How am I going to tell Rhea that despite all our work, someone got in because of a warp spell gone wrong?” Seteth asked almost to himself.
Despite his confidence, Byleth was sure that he did not believe his own words. This was definitely not the result of a warp gone wrong. Still, she said nothing.
Seteth shook his head solemnly, as if trying to shake away her thoughts, ”Regardless, I’m glad you’re safe. We’ll have him transferred to a secure room after the operation. We can question him afterwards.”
With that, the serious man left, lights from the operating room still streaming into their otherwise dark adjacent room. An unspoken understanding passed between the two remaining individuals.
He knows something.
***
Rhea’s suggestion was met with immediate shock, much like the time she suggested Byleth train a class of their new recruits two years ago despite her own seniority, or lack thereof. Rhea expected her to watch over this stranger as he resided in the apartment next door to hers. It would be secure, of course, but just in case, Byleth’s duty was switched from her usual stream of missions to ‘glorified babysitting’, as her father had described it.
“You cannot be serious!” Seteth protested,”I must insist on keeping him in a holding ce-”
“Now, enough of that,” the woman interrupted, brushing invisible dust off the white fabric of her long sundress.
Rhea was the head of Garreg Mach, a secret organization that served all of Fodlan from within the shadows. It was named after a historically significant monastery and its modern officers were highly regarded- at least among those who knew of their secrets- yet her clothing was always so…undecorated, unnoticeable, casual even. Perhaps it was a nod to how they went through almost everything to avoid any knowledge of their existence.
”Byleth is most capable of keeping an eye on her new neighbor ,” she tried to soothe,” Maybe things will be different…than you expected.”
“I hope it is as you say,” he replied worriedly.
***
Byleth felt a bit uneasy at first. She’d never really been one for friendly introductions and although Rhea had graciously placed their guest in an apartment, the locks on his door were an indication of how much she trusted this newcomer. Seteth had interrogated him when he awoke, but he proved to be uncooperative and had refused to say a word. Rumor was going around that the man had somehow managed to tear through the reinforced steel doors with his bare hands and that their engineers had to set up a shock system to keep him away from the door and windows. The elaborately engineered door stood out in the midst of the polished apartment hall. Fancy technology aside, the building was by no means overly extravagant, yet its interior wasn’t exactly cheap either. Byleth's footsteps tapped lightly against the simple marble floor and the soft sunlight from the floor to ceiling window at the end of the hall contrasted with the nature of their whole problem.
She knocked on the door. It had a clear panel embedded in its upper half, which allowed her to see the emptiness inside.
No answer.
She knocked a second time, frowning. Had he escaped?
Silence.
She was about to knock a third time when a figure arose from the ground on the other side of the door. Dark circles hung around his eyes and his numerous bandages were visible underneath their infirmary’s navy hospital garb. It seemed like an eternity had passed before he finally rose to his full height. As she looked upwards through the glass, Byleth noticed a small design was sewn in the side of the breast pocket.
Flayn.
She had been so bored at the office last summer that she sought out their excess supply of hospital gowns and started stitching patterns on them. Unfortunately, some of the staff somehow mistook her stash in Seteth’s office for dirty laundry and added them back into their current inventory after thoroughly washing them. Eventually, injured agents began to look at their gowns’ breast pockets to see if they got a ‘picture’. At first, Flayn had been mortified that people were noticing her work, but it soon proved to be a heartwarming part of their agency’s culture.
On the stranger’s breast pocket, was a small lion stitched in messy white thread. At least, that was what Byleth thought it was. Perhaps this particular gown had been one of Flayn’s earlier creations. Regardless, it seemed completely out of place. Especially since it was paired with the man’s murderous expression, narrowed eyes, and matted hair. She also noticed they’d fastened an eyepatch around his head as well. Taking the fact that he hadn’t bothered to remove it as a good sign, she waved in greeting.
His eyes widened in something almost akin to recognition. Byleth wasn’t sure if that was good.
“You look just like him ,” he muttered grimly through the glass.
Like who? She wondered, tilting her head in question.
He ignored her response and slumped back to the ground near the door, silently out of sight.
“May I come in?” she asked carefully.
“I don’t have a choice, do I?” he asked, but it was more of a bitter statement.
She ignored the comment and signaled to the four guards outside. They seemed a little uneasy in her presence, with her reputation as an emotionless agent, but whatever qualms they had with working with her were dwarfed by the presence of her new neighbor. Soon enough, the first guard prepared their stun gun, the second a regular one, the third deactivated the electricity, while the fourth held the door open for her. Surely this was overkill… but… looking at the form on the ground before them, instinct kicked in and suddenly, she wasn’t so sure anymore.
Try to weasel information out of him, Seteth had told her the night before, I understand it might take time, but please try. For all of our sakes. An intruder cannot be ignored, half dead or not.
She stepped inside, sensing apprehension from the guards. Then, she nodded once more and they carefully shut the door and reactivated security measures. Byleth paced carefully around the form huddled on the ground until she was directly in front of him. He stared at her dark shoes impassively.
“How did you get into this apartment complex?”
No answer.
“Who tried to kill you?” she asked, changing the question.
Silence.
Perhaps she should start with an introduction. She ran through the numerous interrogation techniques that Seteth had taught her before pressing on.
“My name is Byleth-” she said, but the moment she revealed her name, a pair of hands wrapped around her neck with deadly speed and slammed her against the wall in an almost snapping motion.
She had anticipated the action the moment he reached out, hidden dagger at the ready, but for some reason, she could not bring herself to strike him with it. She resisted the logical urge to stab him in response to the assault and instead, held carefully still, taking care to preserve the progress of Seteth’s goal. It had been obvious what he was reaching for and what he was doing, but the brute strength behind it all surprised her, considering they had found him in such a sorry state.
Dark eyes hovered above hers, filled with a crazed fervor she’d only heard of in stories. At that moment, the rumors seemed to be plausible. She brought her hands up to where he held her neck against the wall, but it only served to make him lift her slightly off her toes. She kicked instinctually, despite the comforting knowledge that they had countermeasures for situations like these.
“That name…” he whispered against her cheek unsettlingly, hands still upon her neck, but no longer squeezing.
At once, she took in a shallow breath and heard the guards outside carrying out protocol. Byleth hoped for him to continue so she’d at least have more information before the sleeping gas knocked them both out, but he did no such thing. Soon enough, light smoke like tendrils seeped out of the vents. At once, Byleth felt herself falling and then she was asleep.
***
“Not a word to Seteth please,” Rhea said, sipping tea in yet another sundress,”You must understand. It will only trouble him.”
It was unusual for the grandmaster to wear such… floral designs, but here she was in the gardens, sipping tea and eating pastries nonchalantly as if Byleth had not been strangled last morning.
Byleth frowned.
“But you must tell me this first,” her companion said,”Were you truly in any form of danger yesterday?”
Byleth thought for a moment. She was certain she would have been able to break free if necessary. In fact, she was completely sure she would have been able to keep him at bay long enough for the gas to come, had it not been for some strange intuition that resisted the idea of hurting him. And the gas… it had worked as planned and they’d been able to retrieve her without incident. Despite the lingering thought that he might have snapped her neck, even if by accident, she shook her head. It seemed like the correct answer anyway. If anything, the grandmaster’s approving smile indicated such.
“Good,” she concluded.
***
That second day, Byleth tried again. It might have been a bit too soon, but there was that nagging feeling in her gut again. It told her to try. The guards went through the same motions as the day before, their unease clear on their faces. He was sitting in the same place as before. She moved in front of him quietly, making sure to put some extra distance between them.
“What is your name?” she asked carefully.
He ignored her.
“Are you a spy?” she tried.
He seemed to register this question and lifted his head slightly.
“I will not answer to Empire scum,” he said.
Byleth furrowed her brows in confusion. What empire?
She had hoped for more answers, but no matter what she asked, it was as if he couldn’t hear her. She resolved to see him the next day, but was called to a separate duty that stole a few days from this particularly strange mission.
When she finally returned, she made up her mind to rummage around her kitchen cabinets for snacks. It was worth a shot, she surmised. Perhaps the sight of a common food product might ease the man into the present instead of whatever world his mind was stuck in. Had he been a prisoner? Did his captors torture him? Was he insane? She knew something was off since he’d mutter to himself in the deep of night. The guards had told her and she heard it for herself one night when she’d returned later than usual.
Her hand finally brushed something that wasn’t tea or lint.
It was one last bag of Flayn’s favorite chips. Byleth made a mental note to buy some more for when Flayn visited. Then, she checked its expiration date. Satisfied it was still safe to eat, she brought it over just as a guard was about to deliver a tray of food and again, the guards went through the motions.
“You’ve returned,” he said upon sensing her presence.
“So you’ve noticed,” she said, filling the silence.
The apartment was devoid of furniture save for a simple couch in the living room and an even more simple bed in the bedroom. She set the tray down on the ground next to him. Although the layout of the place was essentially the same as hers, it was unlived in. It felt eerie and cold. He hadn’t even bothered to adjust the thermostat. It was probably warmer outdoors.
“I hear them greet you outside,” he said referring to the guards, “you live nearby. Where are we?”
“Derdriu,” she answered.
“Derdriu?” he repeated darkly, “You’d better not be lying or I will tear you limb from limb.”
Byleth shook her head and denied the accusation.
“Are you not with the Empire?”
“I’m not,” Byleth said honestly.
“But….”
The young man’s blue eyes flickered to her unfamiliar clothing which consisted of a simple dark sweater and black pants. Then, his gaze reached her neck where a light red painted her skin. It seemed he decided to believe her then. If he took note of the dagger she held when he’d attacked her, he showed no evidence of it.
“Your neck,” he said grimly, glancing away in shame, ”I… apologize.”
Something had changed while she was away. He was more like a person and less like a ghost. Had Seteth stopped by? Did they stop putting pain medications in his food?
“You are different,” she observed.
“I-I’ve had some time to think,” he admitted.
“About what?” she asked.
“About everything,” he said vaguely, clutching his head in both hands as if in pain.
“Here,” Byleth sat on the couch and patted the cushion beside her.
He looked up, shocked at the gesture. Then, they stared at each other. When he’d decided she unnerved him more than he did to her, he got up slowly and sat next to her, though still further away than she’d suggested. She reached out across the gray sofa and passed him something from her sweater pocket. He’d never really seen such clothing. A large pocket near the abdomen with openings on both sides…. His attention flickered to the item in her hands.
“What is this?” he asked.
Her brows raised lightly in faint surprise, not unlike a certain professor he knew.
“Chips,” she said, as if that one word explained everything.
“Chips?” he repeated confusedly.
She nodded. When he held the item, it made a crinkling sound, much like paper would. It was filled with air. Was this a trick of sorts? Those seem to have been in fashion lately. Edelgard… his thoughts were about to spiral when Byleth caught wind of his hesitation and took the item back. Then, he watched as she pinched either side of it with her fingers and pulled the top seams apart. When she was satisfied with how far the seams came, she gave it back.
He looked inside and spotted bits of fried flatbread. He squinted. No, that wasn’t it. They were a little too flat.
“Do you not like chips?” she asked.
“I do not know. I’ve never tried them,” he said.
She frowned as if he had grieved her greatly, but said nothing. He took a piece out and put it in his mouth. It was crunchy, not unlike some parts of Flayn’s cooking, and he guessed it was coated in a thin layer of spices. After trying a few more pieces, he decided he liked the texture. For a minute or two, the only sounds in the dreary room were the crinkling of the not-quite-paper bag and the crunch of the so-called ‘chips.’
“How did you get here?” Byleth finally prodded gently after his fifth piece.
“I’m not sure,” he replied,”but I’m guessing it was a warp spell gone wrong.”
For the first time since he’d known her, which wasn’t very long but still surprising because she hadn’t really any range of observable emotions, she looked dumbfounded. Had he said something wrong?
“What is this place?” he asked.
“An apartment complex,” she said.
“I thought this was a prison,” he frowned.
“It’s…complicated,” she answered,”Your presence was a problem because it’s supposed to be warp resistant.”
He nodded. Important places like the monastery and the palace were also warded against certain magics. That meant this must be an important place.
“Byleth…” the name felt strange on his lips. It was the very name of the Golden Deer’s head professor. The similarities were uncanny.
She tilted her head as if urging him on to speak.
“I need to return to Garreg Mach.”
Her face suddenly went blank. He paled slightly at the response. She had been rather kind, helping him along his way from a misplaced warp and security misunderstanding, but this blank stare was somehow different than her usual one. If he had wondered if mentioning the warp spell had been a mistake, he could be sure that it was wrong of him to mention Garreg Mach.