Earning Trust

by Trikucian

Summary:

Byleth juggles her attraction for both the charming Prince Dimitri and the mysterious Seteth. Each chapter is from a single point of view and some are relatively short. Updates every Sunday.

Chapter 1: Byleth - Road to Garreg Mach

Summary:

Byleth meets the noble heirs and saves their lives.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Content warning: fight scene resulting in NPC death.

“Who are you?”

An ethereal, feminine voice broke her from her slumber, flitting around her through the haze like ghostly butterflies. With more effort than she expected, she opened her eyes and gazed around herself, her head feeling heavy and slow. Her whole body felt as though it were made of granite.

Ahead of her, in the dark black and green mist, sat a young woman upon a stone throne. In truth, the mist itself was not green; the soft glow of minty light was emanating from the young woman. Sitting upon the stone chair, her head in her hand, her emerald locks draped over her thin frame, the mysterious young woman blinked and gave a great yawn.

“Why have you come here and woken me from my slumber?”

Woken you? Thought the other young woman, the one who may have been made of stone, for that is how she felt. Am I dreaming? But I just woke up myself, didn’t I?

“Do you know what you are?” asked the young woman on the stone chair.

“Um,” said the other woman. “I am a person, a woman?”

This is a very odd dream.

“Hmm, so you are. Do you know the day of your birth?”

The woman gave a snort. Why was she asking her of her birthday?

“The 30th day of the Harpstring Moon, year … um …”

“How strange, that’s the same as my day of birth.” Suddenly, the glowing woman’s eyes grew wide and she turned sharply, as though looking for something. “Oh no, what was that? Wake up!”

 

***

 

Byleth Eisner’s eyes shot open in a panic. She was laying on her back on the cold ground, her father kneeling beside her.

“Goddess be damned Byleth!” her father exclaimed in exasperation. Pressing a hand behind her back he helped her sit up. “Are you all right? You just collapsed out of no where!”

Byleth looked around, bewildered by how different and mundane her surroundings were compared to that of her dream ... or was it a vision? She was still on the road with her father and their band of mercenaries, the same group of warriors she had lived most of her life with. However, beyond the group, there were some new people she did not recognize. Nobles, she surmised, based on their fine and colorful clothing. She didn't have a chance to look at them further, as her father's touch on the back of her head caused a sharp sting.

Shying away from his touch, she put her own hand to the back of her head and felt the blood. She must have fallen and knocked herself out. That must have been where the strange dream came from. “Don’t worry Dad, it’s just a small wound. You know the scalp always bleeds more than it needs to.”

Taking her father’s hand, she stood, a small wave of dizziness coming over her. She looked over to where the nobles stood, feeling both curious about why there were there, and embarrassed that nobility would have seen her prone. Byleth did not like nobility; they always cared too much about nonsense like proprietary and such.

Nodding towards the group, Byleth asked her father, “Who are these three? Was I out so long that we were hired to escort them?”

Jeralt barked a laugh. “No, you were barely out thirty minutes. These three strays came across us running from bandits in that short time.”

Strays? Thought Byleth. What an odd way to refer to nobles.

“I will thank you to call my by my proper name,” said one with a strong, feminine voice. “I am Edelgard von Hreslveg, heir to the Adrestian Empire, and as such am due respect!” She wore an ornate black military suit with red leggings and a red cape. In her hands was a large axe. Her long, platinum blonde hair hung loose down her back.

"Oh, calm down, El," snorted a handsome young man with curly brown hair and a quiver strapped across his back, over a short golden cape. In his hand, he held a long bow made of golden-brown wood. "You can be a princess later when we get to the monastery. For now, we need their help with these bandits."

"Indeed," spoke the other young man as he walked up to Jeralt and Byleth. He was tall and skinny, younger than he sounded, with a mop of messy blonde hair atop his head. He wore a black military officer's suit, complemented by a blue cape. "My lady, are you well? It appears that you are bleeding," he said, resting a long spear on the ground like a walking stick.

Byleth felt herself flush due to the attention. “Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just a scratch.” With a wave of her hand, she used a small amount of white magic to heal the wound. She was by no means a white mage, but she did have some ability to heal scrapes. “Now what was this about bandits?”

At that moment, a group of roughshod men scrambled forth from behind the trees. "Dammit!" exclaimed the young man in gold, pulling an arrow from the quiver on his back. "They've caught up to us!" With alarming speed, he nocked the arrow and shot it toward the nearest bandit, piercing him directly in the throat. With a gurgle and a spit of blood, the man fell. His comrades, enraged by the fall of one of their own, advanced at full speed.

The young woman who had proclaimed herself the Crown Princess of the Empire, lifted her axe and ran forward, howling in a very unladylike rage. Nodding his head, the skinny young man in front of Byleth said, “my lady,” and lifted his spear to an almost joust position, and ran forward, skewering another bandit.

Byleth snorted and called out, "I am no lady, I am the Ashen Demon!" She pulled her sword from its sheath and pointed it forward. Running past the young man in blue, she hacked and slashed at the bandits. He followed closely behind her, skewering another with his spear.

“Ha, I can see that,” he called, joining her in the fray. They fought, side by side, in a strangely comfortable flow. Her father and his men fought behind them, the princess and the archer to their side. Soon they had slain all of the bandits.

Breathing heavily, she looked to the skinny young man, a wide smile on her face. “That was impressive my —”

Byleth’s reverie was cut off by a final bandit who had fained death. He had jumped up and before Byleth could stop him, ran towards the young, skinny man in blue. Without thinking, Byleth jumped between the two, only to be rewarded with a blinding white hot pain through her chest.

Then the world froze.

“Oh no,” said the ethereal feminine voice that flew through her skull like the ghosts of butterflies. “That won’t do. What kind of person would sacrifice themselves for a boy they just met? We shall have to find out.”

Standing outside of her body, Byleth watched, over and over again as the bandit stabbed her through the heart from behind.

“To fix this, we will have to rewind a little bit. I can give you back a few seconds, but sometimes a few seconds is all you need.”

Byleth felt a great whoosh of air fill her lungs, more immediate and painful than the stab itself, and she was suddenly back next to the young man in blue. With no time to think, she pulled his lance from his hand and pointed it at the spot where she knew the bandit would be charging. She moved so swiftly that the bandit didn't have time to react and impaled himself on the spear.

Chapter 2: Dimitri - Road to Garreg Mach

Summary:

Dimitri is impressed by the mysterious swordswoman.

Content warning: fight scene resulting in NPC death.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd watched in shock as the warrior woman took his spear and impossibly impaled the bandit with it. She had been an amazing sight to behold on the road, killing bandits one by one, as lithe as a dancer. Now, she had directly saved his life, faster than he could have blinked.

He could not take his eyes off of her. His mouth gaped, trying to find words, as she handed back his lance. He blushed as his fingers brushed his during the hand off. “That was amazing!” he blurted out.

“Yes,” said the older man she had called her father, “It was.” He looked to the young nobles. “Where was it you three were going? It appears we will have to escort you, lest more bandits come calling.”

“The Monastery of Garreg Mach,” interrupted the young woman who had called herself Edelgard. “We will be attending the Officer’s Academy there. As I said before, I am Edelgard von Hreslveg of the Adrestrian Empire. This is Claude von Riegan of the Leicester Alliance and —”

“Dimitri!” spluttered Dimitri, looking to the young woman who had saved his life. “I am Dimitri Alexander Blaiddyd, Crown Prince of The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. I would be honored to have such an amazing talent such as yours at my Kingdom’s disposal.”

“Slow down princeling!” said Claude, the archer. “You aren’t King yet. We’ve all come to train at the Officer’s Academy.” The archer turned to the swords-woman. “My apologies for young Dimitri here, he can get a bit, well, excited.”

“I’m no younger than you!” snapped Dimitri, feeling his blood rise to his cheeks. To be dressed down in front of a beautiful woman was bad enough, but to have done so when she had just saved his life was mortifying.

“Will you two stop,” grumbled Edelgard, stepping towards the swords-woman. “My lady, may we have your name, and the name of your companion, so we may reward you when we get to the Monastery?”

“Byleth,” said the woman, holding her hand to her chest. Turning to her father, she began, “And this is —”

“Jeralt!” boomed a masculine voice from the other end of the road. A retinue of five knights on horseback had come down the road. “Fine seeing you here! What brings you to these parts?”

“Saving the asses of some noble brats,” grumbled Jeralt, grabbing the reigns of his horse and walking towards the knights. “Come on Byleth, let’s go, we have some Princes and a Princess to escort.”

Byleth turned an emotionless face to Dimitri and gave him a nod. That one look was enough to make his face flush and his skin tingle. She was much too beautiful to be any common mercenary.

Chapter 3: Seteth - Audience Chamber

Summary:

Seteth meets the new professor.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Seteth walked up to Lady Rhea as she stood on the third floor balcony of the administrative building on the ground of Garreg Mach monastery. She was watching the procession of soldiers escorting the heirs of all three great countries into their monastery. “What brings you here my child,” mumbled Lady Rhea, “Was it the ebb and flow of the river of Time?”

Seteth had heard what the Lady had said, but chose not to respond to it. He would, however, remember to write it down the moment he had access to his journal once again. For as long as he had known Rhea, he had known her to be secretive, and as thus, every little snippet from her needed to be collected if he were to unravel her mysteries.

For the moment, he was content to watch the new students walk in with her. One of them caught his eye: a strange young woman with hair that glowed blue in the sunlight. At that moment, she looked his way, and even from hundreds of meters away, they made eye contact.

A tingle ran down Seteth’s spine when he made that eye contact. There was something in those eyes, something old and otherworldly. Was this young woman to be one of the students this year?

“An auspicious class we have this year, don’t you think,” said Seteth, still watching the young woman, though her eyes had shifted to look forward. “The heirs of all three major countries on Fodlan.”

Rhea nodded. “Yes, my dear Seteth. It will be an auspicious year indeed.”

***

Seteth walked with the Archbishop to the altar on the second floor of the main administrative building of Garreg Mach. This floor was home to the offices and bedrooms of the main teaching staff. Waiting for them were the three noble heirs, Alois of the Knights of Seiros — who had ridden ahead of the group to speak with Lady Rhea — an older man with a gruff demeanor, and the strange young woman with the old eyes.

Seteth’s eyes passed over each person, coming to rest on the strange woman. She was beautiful, in a haunting way, that belied the actual age of her young adult body. And much of this body was on display, as Seteth was wont to admit to himself. She wore a full cloak, but it was hanging off her shoulders, barely concealing the mini-shorts, lace leggings, and leather bodice. This woman was much more immodestly dressed than the younger nobles she was with.

Was she to be one of the students this year? Not likely, she was too old.

Realizing that he was staring, Seteth blinked his eyes and looked to Lady Rhea as she spoke, “Welcome to Garreg Mach Monastery. I am overjoyed that you have made it safely. Alois here has told me of how you fought off the bandits with the help of Jeralt and his daughter.” Lady Rhea turned to the older man with dirty blonde hair and scars on his face, “Jeralt, I am happy to see you again, it has been too long.”

Jeralt? Seteth thought, searching his memory. He had only been invited by Lady Rhea to work with her at the monastery a few years ago and had not met this man before. The man’s name had appeared in some old paperwork, though at the moment Seteth could not remember when he had read it.

“Rhea,” grunted Jeralt, “May I introduce my daughter Byleth. She was born some time after I left the Knights of Seiros. Unfortunately her mother died when she was little, so it’s just been the two of us. She has, however, grown into a fine swords woman during our time as mercenaries.”

“I see,” said Rhea, a soft smile on her lips. “Then it is you, dear Byleth, that I must thank for saving the lives of our students.”

“It wasn’t just her,” scoffed the younger girl in red. “We fought off just as many bandits as her. Just because she got lucky with a lance, Dimitri hasn’t been able to stop singing her praises.”

Seteth could tell she was a noble of high birth based on her clothing and bearing. She must be the crown princess of the Adrestian Empire, what was her name again? Elaine?

“Well, Lady Edelgard,” spoke the tall youth in blue, “Next time you move in the blink of an eye to save my, or anyone else’s, behind, I’ll sing your praises too. Besides,” he said, turning to the young woman with the much too lacy tights and giving her a warm smile, “If I play my cards right, I could have our new friend here working for Faerghus in no time.”

The Crown Prince of Faerghus, he is more friendly than reports would have led me to believe.

The prince’s words caused Seteth to look back at Byleth again. The thought of her fighting with a sword wearing such ridiculous clothes both concerned him, and, more alarmingly, made his skin feel hot. Be careful with this one, he thought.

The last youth snorted, “Nice try Dimitri, but she’s a mercenary, the Ashen Demon. Whoever has the bigger purse gets her attention. And we both know that isn’t cold, hard Faerghus.” He wore an ornate golden cloak, denoting he was of the Leicester Alliance.

And this must be Claude von Riegan, the grandson of Duke Riegan. Clearly the most charismatic of the bunch.

“Actually, I was hoping that you would stay at the Academy as a teacher,” said Lady Rhea, causing Seteth to turn his head abruptly to the Archbishop. “We are in need of another lead house instructor as the one who we were expecting never appeared.”

“I’m sorry,” began Jeralt, believing that the lady was addressing him, “But I have no intentions of staying. Now that we have safely delivered the princes and princess, we will be going.”

Seteth noted Claude, the Archduke’s grandson, blink more than usual at being called a prince. Did the boy want to correct Jeralt, but chose not to?

“Oh no Jeralt, I intend to hire your daughter as an instructor,” said Lady Rhea. “She has shown her prowess and trustworthiness in saving these three, especially during the incident with Prince Dimitri and his lance. It will be good to have a younger house leader, someone who can connect more closely with the students.”

“Are you serious Lady Rhea?” exclaimed Seteth, turning his body fully to face the Archbishop, his hands spread wide. “We know nothing about this woman! Other than she’s good with a blade and that her father was once a Knight here!”

“Calm yourself Seteth,” spoke Rhea in a firm but not harsh tone. “I know Jeralt well and I trust that any child of his is as honorable as he is.”

Rhea turned to Byleth and smiled. “Please, my dear, spend some time with the students over the next few days and discover which group you would like to work with this year. There are Three Houses, each of which are tied to the country of origin of its members: The Black Eagles, led by Edelgard of the Adrestian Empire; The Blue Lions, led by Dimitri of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus; and The Golden Deer, led by Claude of the Leicester Alliance.”

Seteth looked from Lady Rhea to the mysterious young woman, a sense of dread burning in his belly. A woman this young—and to his chagrin, this beautiful—was a dangerous choice for a house instructor. The way the young nobles, especially the young Crown Prince, reacted to her only cemented Seteth's resolve that this was a bad idea on Rhea's part.

Alarmingly, Seteth felt a small pang of jealousy as he watched the youths fawn over the woman. That small pang evolved into full-on tingles when the woman, this mysterious Byleth, turned her gaze to him. Her fathomless gaze filled his own, and for the smallest of moments, she was the only thing he could see. He then broke the stare, shaking his head and walking back to his office.

I’m too old for this nonsense, Seteth grumbled to himself, closing his door much too hard behind him. - -

Chapter 4: Byleth - Audience Chamber

Summary:

Byleth has thoughts about her stuffy new boss.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Byleth watched the Administrator with the emerald green hair and goatee walk off in a huff. He didn't seem to like her very much, or at least not the prospect of her teaching at his school. She did, however, catch him staring at her, particularly her legs. Byleth often wore tight or revealing leggings to distract opponents while still being able to move, but with this man, this Seteth, she wasn't sure if he stared at her in desire or disgust. Or both. He clearly had opinions of propriety, which made sense, considering his position at this prestigious school.

I’ll need to be careful of that one, thought Byleth, watching the man turn the corner. A faint door slam could be heard down the corridor, causing Claude to snort.

Byleth only blinked in response, her face a stone mask as usual. She had feelings, her face just never seemed to want to express them unless she mad a concerted effort to do so. A useful trait as a warrior, though not as useful for making friends.

Maybe he just doesn’t like my face? It wouldn’t be the first time. Or, perhaps he thinks I’m a slut?

That was a conclusion many people came to when looking at her, which couldn't be further from the truth. Byleth had never been with a man, or a woman for that matter, though she did find men attractive. She was just afraid of being with the wrong man—getting pregnant by someone who didn't love her. Having seen that happen too many times on her travels, she didn't want to experience that heartache. Byleth simply had never felt any affection apart from fleeting crushes throughout her life.

Lady Rhea sighed and turned to Byleth and Jeralt. “Don’t mind him. Seteth has made the majority of staffing decisions since coming to work at Garreg Mach. I’m sure he will come around to you two.”

Jeralt grunted in agreement and Byleth said nothing. She still wasn’t sure of Seteth, but she was sure that he was the kind of noble she wasn’t fond of. The stuffy kind.

“Sir Alois,” said Lady Rhea, “Will you be so kind as to escort our new instructors and students to the dining hall? They must be hungry after their travels.”

“Yes, my lady,” said Alois, bowing to Rhea. Motioning with his hand, he gave the group a wide smile and directed them to follow him. “Just this way! The dining hall is just down stairs. They should be serving dinner soon.”

Chapter 5: Dimitri - Dining Hall

Summary:

Dimitri asks Byleth to be his house professor.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Dimitri stood behind Byleth and her father in the dinner line of Garreg Mach’s dining hall. Even though he was only 17, he already stood a head taller than her. Not unexpected, given he had gone through a major growth spurt in the last two years, but it still felt so odd to be looking down on everyone. This time, however, he did his best to focus on her eyes, instead of the tops of her breasts poking out above her bodice.

I can’t believe she fights with a sword dressed like this, it’s amazing!

Every other woman, or man for that matter, that he knew, wore full tunics or even armor when they were fighting. As beautiful as she was, his mind wandered to how she kept everything in place. Her breasts were larger than an average woman’s, or at least they appeared so given the way she dressed. Granted, Cornelia wore even more revealing clothing, but she was a mage, not a swords woman. Their movements were completely different in battle.

Dimitri blushed and looked away, directing his gaze to the ceiling. This woman is to be a professor, I should not be thinking about her breasts like that!

Ah yes, professor, I should talk to her about instructing our house. I know that Felix will want her to teach us, given his proclivity towards the sword. And I am sure she could teach me a great deal about battle, given her experience.

“Um, Professor,” began Dimitri, “Can I speak with you about the different houses? I am the leader of the Blue Lions, being the Crown Prince of Faerghus, and I believe you would be able to teach me and my compatriots a great deal.” Dimitri could feel the blush rising to his face.

As Dimitri spoke, Byleth reached the end of the line and grabbed a plate. “Sure, when we sit down to eat,” she said with little emotion.

“A yes, of course,” said Dimitri, with some nervousness.

“My Prince!” spoke a loud voice near the door to the outside. “I heard you were attacked on the way here, are you alright?” The voice belonged to Dedue, his bodyguard. The large young man had been sent ahead to prepare for the Blue Lions house member arrivals a day earlier. Apparently that was enough time to catch Dimitri apart from his bodyguard.

"Of course, Dedue," Dimitri reassured. "Our wonderful new Professor saved us. She took the spear right out of my hand and skewered a bandit who was planning on knifing me."

Dedue looked at the small woman, incredulous. “She did?” He gave the Professor a bow. “Thank you my Lady for protecting my Prince while I was unable to.”

Dedue turned back to Dimitri, his face serious. “Your Highness, I will never leave your side again, it is too dangerous.”

“Yes yes,” said Dimitri, patting Dedue on the shoulder. “Let’s get some dinner first and do our best to convince the Professor to teach our house this year.”

“No worries about that,” snorted Edelgard, stepping in front of Dimitri as he took too long to get his dinner plate. “I prefer someone with experience. I hear the crest scholar Hanneman is a house lead instructor, I will ask him to instruct the Black Eagles.”

Dimitri didn’t know what to make of Edelgard. He had not seen her since they were children, when she had spent a year living in the Fhirdiad Royal Palace with him. He had missed her terribly when she had been taken away.

He had been elated when he encountered her on his way to the Officer’s Academy. Those feelings were quickly extinguished when she all but ignored his attempts at friendly banter. Edelgard was vastly different from how he remembered her. Not only was she more serious and taciturn, but her hair and eyes had become extremely pale, as though she had somehow contracted albinism. Still, he wished he could talk to her, to reminisce about happier times before both of their families had perished.

“Well, that settles it,” said Claude, nudging Dimitri forward, Dedue following. “I’m happy to have the head physician as the instructor for the Golden Deer. What was her name again?”

Dimitri was even less sure about Claude. He remained a mystery, having only recently revealed himself as the long-lost grandson of Duke Riegan. Yet, the annoyingly handsome and charismatic young man did indeed bear the Riegan Crest, confirming his identity as the Ducal heir. Every time Dimitri spoke with him, he felt as though Claude always knew more than he was letting on, even if he was all polite smiles.

"Manuela," spoke a mature, feminine voice from a nearby table. The voice belonged to a woman in her mid-30s, daintily sipping her soup from a spoon. Dimitri was shocked to see this woman wore even less than Byleth, dressed only in a strappy, revealing green gown. A white fur coat sat was draped behind her on the back of her chair. "And yes, my dear Claude, I would love to instruct your house."

The woman named Manuela tapped the seat next to her, inviting them to sit. “Come eat with me! I didn’t know that they had hired a new professor, I must know everything!” As Jeralt and Byleth walked over, Manuela whistled, “Oh, and such a handsome, strapping man I might say. Hopefully a single one as well?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” began Jeralt, sitting across from Manuela at the long dining table. “I have agreed to rejoin the Knights of Seiros on a temporary basis. It is my daughter, Byleth, whom Rhea has asked to work as a professor here.”

“Byleth?” asked Manuela, with a blink, looking to the young woman, “But, you’re so young? You could be one of the students here.” She looked back to Jeralt. “And Rhea hired her personally, not Seteth?”

Jeralt shrugged. “She’s not that young, I think she’ll do a fine job.”

Byleth gave a small smile and said to her father, “Thanks Dad,” before digging into her own soup.

After a few awkward moments of silence and trying to eat dinner, Dimitri spoke up, “So, does that work, you teaching the Blue Lions I mean?”

Byleth looked up, directly into Dimitri’s eyes. It felt like his heart stopped, then leapt into throat as her eyes gazed into his. Her eyes, indeed her whole face, was the picture of beauty, like a statue carved from marble. Dimitri had seen beautiful women his whole life, but something about this Byleth was otherworldly. He couldn’t stop from feeling the heat rise to his face.

“Sure,” she said, keeping eye contact with him. “Why not?

Chapter 6: Seteth - Office

Summary:

Seteth argues with Rhea and speaks to Byleth.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Seteth was sitting at his desk, scratching away at yet another administrative document, when his door opened. To his surprise, the Archbishop Lady Rhea walked in, shutting the door behind her. It was odd that Rhea had come to his office herself, as they usually met in the main altar or her quarters.

“My lady,” said Seteth, rising from his seat.

“What was that Seteth!?” asked Rhea, a hint of anger on her voice. “I’ve never seen you so impolite! Especially in front of the noble heirs!”

“Well, what did you expect me to think Rhea!?” exclaimed Seteth, stepping from behind his desk. “We know nothing about this woman, this Byleth! Other than she’s been a mercenary her entire life, and we all know how scrupulous mercenaries are.”

Seteth sighed and pinched his brows. He had taken his circlet off, only wearing it when out in public. “Flayn is here now, at Garreg Mach. You know her safety is my priority.”

Rhea stepped forward and put a reassuring hand on Seteth’s arm. “She is mine too. Please, for her sake, know that Byleth and her father Jeralt are not a danger. In fact, I believe they will be the greatest defenders of Garreg Mach an the people within.”

“Hmm,” grunted Seteth, “I will reserve my judgment until she has proven herself.”

“That’s all I ask,” said Rhea. “Now, I need you to take her to her room. I want her rooming with the students instead of the instructors, so she will be able to get better acquainted with them.”

“Again, Rhea,” said Seteth through gritted teeth, “I do not think that’s wise.”

Rhea smirked. “We shall see. I believe she is finishing up at the dining hall with the heirs. Can you please go find her and let know that I have reserved the first room on the first floor for her?” Without waiting for Seteth’s response, Rhea turned and left.

Seteth shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Giving an exasperated sigh, he picked up his circlet and straightened his back. Placing the circlet on his head, he breathed out, assuming his administrator persona, and left his office for the dining hall.

***

Upon entering the dining hall, Seteth found it to be rather raucous. Many of the students had either arrived that day or earlier in the week and were excited to be meeting each other. Those of the same house appeared to already know most of their compatriots, having grown up in the same social circles, but there were many newcomers as well. It was always like this at the beginning of the year, so exciting for the youths to be amongst each other and away from home. This was also the time of greatest danger for these youths and their reputations, and Seteth knew that, which was where his apprehension about Byleth came from. That, and his need to protect Flayn, who was currently in their quarters.

He found Byleth at one of the dining tables closest to the dinner line. She was sitting amongst a loud group, the loudest being Manuela, whom Seteth had also been unsure of when he first met her. The woman had proved herself a proficient mage and physician despite Seteth’s original misgivings. Perhaps Byleth would surprise him too.

When Seteth approached the table everyone quieted down, somewhat surprised to see the lead administrator in the dining hall. Seteth usually took his meals alone in his quarters with Flayn, or in his office. “My my Seteth,” said Manuela with her sing-song voice, “What brings you here?”

"Miss Eisner," said Seteth, holding his hand out to her to help her from her seat. She may have been a warrior, but she was still a lady, and Seteth wanted to show her proper courtesy after having been rude to her earlier. "Please, let me show you to your quarters."

When Byleth took his hand, Seteth felt tingles move from his hand through his arm. Not expecting to have such a reaction from this woman’s touch, Seteth could feel the flush rising to his cheeks. It had been many, many years since he had felt this way from a woman’s touch, even if the touch were as chaste as hand to hand.

Holding his hand, she stepped out from behind the bench to stand next to him. Seteth let go as soon as she was stable on her feet. He didn’t want anyone to see that simply holding her hand had flustered him in any way. Nodding to her, he motioned towards the doorway, “This way please,” and began walking towards the dormitory buildings.

The young woman gave a quick, “See ya Dad,” to Jeralt and began to follow Seteth. The walk to the dormitories was a short one, just across the lawn on the other side of the dining hall. Seteth brought her to the room on the far end of the building on the first floor. “Huh, that wasn’t much of a walk,” said Byleth, looking up the short steps to her room.

Seteth walked forward and produced a key from his pocket. Unlocking the door, he held it open for Byleth to walk inside. Within the room was a small bed, a wardrobe, and a desk with a chair. On the window was an empty flower pot. He walked inside behind her, removed the key from the door and gave it to her, leaving the door open.

“This will be your room for the year,” said Seteth, motioning to the small room. “Rhea wishes you to be housed with the students so you can better bond with them. The commoners tend to be housed on the first floor, with the nobles on the second. Despite us here at Garreg Mach trying to build a culture of equality, the nobles still insist on a level of propriety. With that in mind, I advise you to be respectful and keep that propriety in mind.”

Even with the door open, in this close quarters Seteth could not help but catch the woman’s scent and feel the breeze of her breath. She wore the sweat and mud of the road and battle about her like perfume. When she looked into his eyes, even for just a beat, time seemed to stop, and it was just the two of them.

“You do not expect me to be respectful?” she asked, unflinching but serious. Seteth couldn’t help but stare at her unadorned, naturally pink lips.

This woman is dangerous, thought Seteth. If just by standing here she was making him feel this way, what would she do to the teenage boys she were to teach. What was Rhea thinking? The woman probably didn’t even notice, living as far outside of a normal life as she did.

“I expect you to teach your charges as befitting their station,” said Seteth, standing straight, shoving thoughts of her lips and her scent from his mind. “The women’s bath is on the far end of the building, near the greenhouse, and there are student uniforms you can wear until you can obtain more appropriate clothing.”

“And what is wrong with my current clothing?” she asked, her face devoid of emotions.

Seteth wasn’t sure if he were joking or if she were being serious. “Well,” he said, “For starters, you are still covered in the dirt from the road, and possibly the blood of the bandits you fell. Just place your dirty clothing in the bin by your door; you can bring it to the laundress tomorrow.”

Bowing his head, Seteth said, “Good night, Miss Eisner.”

Byleth replied, “Good night, Mr, um ...”

“Seteth is fine,” he said as she followed him to the door. When he was down the steps she gave him one more stony gaze before shutting the door. When he heard a click, Seteth surmised she had locked it.

Seteth turned to walk back to the administrator’s quarters and took off his circlet to scratch his head. He undid the first button of his doublet and scratched his neck. Had he been sweating? His damp hair and collar would confirm that he had.

What am I going to do about this Byleth woman?

Chapter 7: Byleth - Dormitory

Summary:

Byleth is annoyed by Seteth after he escorts her to her room.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Byleth gripped the door handle tightly after Seteth left what was now her room. Internally seething, she clenched her jaw as she closed the door, careful not to slam it. Despite her anger, she still looked him in the eye, finding it hard to look away.

She was reluctant to admit it, but this annoying, stuffy noble was undeniably handsome, with his high cheekbones, straight nose, and perfectly shaped eyebrows and goatee. But then, most nobles were handsome, in one way or another. She shouldn't let herself feel attracted to one, even if his hand had felt wonderful to hold.

Seteth didn't look it, with his perfectly cut figure draped in a tailored doublet, but he was strong. He even managed to make a feminine golden circlet appear masculine upon his brow. When he offered his hand to her, Byleth had wanted to unsettle him by pulling him off balance a little, but he didn't budge. He didn't even seem to notice her pull. She appreciated that he waited until she was fully standing before letting go. He was the epitome of nobility, in both look and bearing.

She had to be better than he expected her to be. Once she had locked the door, she angrily threw the key onto her new bed. "What is his problem?" she grumbled, not too loudly. Because everyone she encountered, except maybe her father, seemed to get annoyed with her for reasons she couldn't quite place, she was always careful to keep her voice low and her face expressionless. Unless, of course, she had a strong emotion to express, but either it wouldn't show, or it would show completely wrong. Perhaps that was what happened? That maybe her face was doing something she didn't want it to, like letting him know that she found him handsome?

Granted, he was right; she was dirty at that moment. And she knew her clothing was inappropriate; it was part of the reason she wore it. She just didn't like him pointing out its inappropriateness; when it came from him, it was irksome. A part of her wanted this man to like her, if only because it seemed he was now her boss. Another part of her wished she could keep her father as her boss. He was a harsh taskmaster, but at least he made sense. And he wasn't someone she considered attractive; obviously, that would be gross.

But that Manuela woman did. Byleth wasn’t sure what to make of that. She had seen her father have short romances from time to time, but since they were on the road a lot, none lasted. As far as Byleth knew she didn’t have any little brothers or sisters wandering around out there.

Byleth shook her head, annoyed with her mind wandering, as it often did. Begrudgingly, she took Seteth’s advice and stripped her dirty clothes off. Unhooking the brooches and belts from her clothes, she threw the fabric items into the laundry bin by the door. Byleth would have to wash the leather bodice herself; she would never trust it to a laundress, what with its whalebone and black leather dye. Byleth had only just had this one made for her a few months back and she wanted it to last.

Fully prepared to walk to the baths with a bedsheet covering herself, Byleth heaved a sigh of relief when she found a robe and slippers in the wardrobe. There were about a week’s worth of female officer’s uniforms in there as well, which Byleth decided would probably be more appropriate and comfortable to wear around the Academy. Slipping into the bath robe, she took her key and a towel and headed for the baths, determine to scrub the dirt and annoying feelings away from the day.

Chapter 8: Dimitri - Dining Hall

Summary:

Dimitri meets Byleth at breakfast.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Dimitri entered the dining hall with Dedue early the next morning, looking to get breakfast. Classes were to start the following week, with this week designated for orientation, so not everyone was up this early. As the next King of Faerghus, Dimitri intended to be the best version of himself in all ways. This included getting up early, going to bed on time, and being an all-around good student.

For now he was still just the Crown Prince, his official coronation set to come after his 18th birthday. Dimitri did not like to think of himself as King, as that title belonged to his deceased father. Losing his father and many other nobles of Faerghus in what has become known as the "Tragedy of Duscur" may have been years ago, but that wound still felt fresh to him. For his best friend and bodyguard Dedue the tragedy was even worse, for he had lost even more in the aftermath of that tragic day.

Glancing around the mostly empty dining hall, Dimitri was pleased to see the new Professor, sitting alone at one of the dining tables. Upon further inspection, she was dressed like one of the female students, which brought a bit of a blush to his cheeks. While more modestly dressed than when he had first met her, seeing her looking like one of his classmates made his belly flip flop. How was he supposed to respect her as an authority figure and not just another girl when she looked like that?

Hiding his feelings behind a mask of princely virtue as best he could, the young man picked up his bowl of breakfast porridge. Dimitri walked over to the table where Byleth was sitting, Dedue following behind as he always did. Standing across from her at the table, he asked, “Do you mind if we eat with you?”

Her mouth full of porridge, Byleth answered, “Of course, you’re my students now aren’t you?” Swallowing her mouthful, she motioned to the seats near her. “Feel free to sit with me whenever you like, you don’t need to ask.”

“Thank you, Professor, of course,” said Dimitri, stiltedly. Inviting Dedue to sit as well, he placed his bowl of porridge on the table. As he sat, the Prince swept his cape over the back of his chair. He didn’t really want to wear his house colors, but he was House Leader this year, and Dimitri felt it best to be identifiable. Edelgard and Claude had also kept their house capes on, so Dimitri felt confident in his decision.

“I was hoping to speak with you about the mock battle we will have against the other two houses at the end of the week. To discuss strategy with you.”

Byleth looked up from her porridge. Swallowing another bite, she said, “Oh, I don’t know, it shouldn’t be that difficult. I should probably meet the rest of the team, um, house first though.”

“Of course!” exclaimed Dimitri, “I shall introduce you to them today! Most, if not all, of the Blue Lions are already here at Garreg Mach. You have already met Dedue of course.”

Byleth nodded to Dedue, the tall young man with dark skin only grunting at her. “Well, since we are already talking, what do you two specialize in?”

“I am proficient with the spear, as you already witness when we were traveling here, though I would like to learn more about the sword as a primary focus.” Motioning to his friend, he added, “And Dedue here is very good with the axe.”

Her eyes still on Dedue, Byleth asked, “Is that what you would like to continue to learn, the axe? I believe I will be teaching you as well right? As part of the Blue Lions?”

Dedue looked from Dimitri to the professor and answered, “My only goal is to protect my Prince. At the moment the axe is a handy weapon for that, but I am willing to learn anything.”

Dimitri smiled at his friend, appreciative of his loyalty. “After breakfast, and after we meet with the other Blue Lions, I would like to show you around the monastery. It can be overwhelming for those you haven’t been here before.”

“I’d like that,” she said without obvious mirth.

This woman is strange, thought the young Prince, It’s almost like she never shows any emotion.

Chapter 9: Byleth - Gardens

Summary:

Byleth meets Flayn. During the mock battle Dimitri is injured and Byleth attends him.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Content warning: descriptions of major injury.

Byleth spent the rest of the morning walking with Dimitri and Dedue around the monastery grounds. Dimitri began his tour by bringing her to the officer’s study halls. The three houses had large class rooms next to each other, presumably so teaching staff could sub in for some lessons. Here Dimitri not only introduced her to many of the Blue Lions, but some of the students from the other houses as well.

Byleth was actually surprised to see Leonie, her father’s former apprentice, with the Golden Deer group. She was happy to run into her, to find someone that she had known for years. Byleth she had not expected that this was the school that Leonie had left their mercenary group for, but it made sense now. However, due to this being Dimitri’s time to introduce her to the people and the monastery, she didn’t want to hold him up by reminiscing with her old friend. Promising Leonie she would see her again later, she continued on with the boys.

In the Blue Lions classroom Byleth met with Annette and Mercedes, two girls who had gone to the magic school together in Faerghus’ capital city of Fhirdiad. They were charming and offered to bake her some sweets. Dimitri brushed them off, but in a gentle and playful way. Byleth told them that she would like to bake sweets with them in the future, if only because she had never done it before.

Next, they went to the training grounds, where Felix and Ingrid were practicing their martial forms. Felix was training with a wooden sword against a spinning wooden training dummy, while Ingrid was hurling wooden javelins at far-off targets. Felix wanted to spar with her immediately, but Dimitri insisted that he was still in the middle of showing her the grounds, and Felix would have to wait. Byleth noticed that Felix seemed displeased at being turned down by his King-to-be but said nothing. She promised Felix that she would spar with him the next day and continued with Dimitri around the monastery, with Dedue walking on Dimitri’s other side.

Byleth had been impressed by Dimitri’s authoritative but friendly presence as they walked around meeting fellow students. She had initially been surprised to find out that he was only seventeen. His tall, skinny frame and not-quite-deep voice fit the age, but his demeanor spoke to a much more mature person. He had clearly been working towards becoming King for much of his life.

By this point, the sun was high in the sky, indicating that the lunchtime meal was about to be served. On their way to the dining hall, they encountered a handsome, red-headed young man. He was talking with a much younger-looking girl with large, green curls that reminded Byleth of Lady Rhea.

Noticing them walk up, the young man waved them down. “Dimitri! Good to see you! And is this our new Professor you’ve brought with you?”

“Yes Sylvain,” laughed Dimitri. “She is indeed. And who is this lovely girl. I hope my friend hasn’t been too forward with you my lady.”

Sylvain adopted an overdramatic expression, placing his hand theatrically on his chest. "Me? Why, never! However," he turned to Byleth, "Though, I wouldn't say no to dinner with the Professor in town."

Dimitri stepped forward, standing to a height with Sylvain but with a much more authoritative air about him. “Sylvain, Lady Byleth is, as you say, our Professor. I will not have you harassing her for dates as though she were any other girl. She is to have our utmost respect.”

Watching Dimitri confront Sylvain in her defense surprised Byleth, causing a small butterfly to flit through her belly. This Dimitri, this King-in-training, standing tall before her with his ice-blue eyes and firm jaw, suddenly seemed very manly to her. The only part of him that denoted his youth was his mop of blonde hair, clearly cut well but poorly brushed. Byleth did her best to suppress this sudden rush of attraction for a boy she was supposed to be teaching, as he had just astutely reprimanded Sylvain for.

But he was a Prince, a goddess-be-damned PRINCE! If she couldn’t stand the uppity and fussy nature of most nobles, what business did she have being attracted to a Prince? She may be relatively famous as the “Ashen Demon,” but she was still just another mercenary. Even if that crazy archbishop ; whom apparently knew her father once a long time ago ; somehow decided she could fit in as a professor in a pinch. This was all too much. She decided to change the subject.

“How about you?” asked Byleth, looking to the girl with the green hair. “Are you also a student with the Blue Lions house?”

“Oh heavens no,” laughed the girl softly, “I am not a student. My name is Flayn. Garreg Mach has provided me and my brother sanctuary here. I would, however, love to be a student, but my brother would not allow it.”

“Oh?” asked Byleth, “Who is your brother? Maybe I or my Dad could talk to him? Ask to let you enroll in my class?”

The girl shook her head, a small smirk on her face. “You’ve already met my brother. He told me he showed you to your room last night?”

“Seteth!?” exclaimed Byleth, Dimitri, and Sylvain in unison. Dedue stayed as silent and stoic as he had all morning, his only purpose seemingly to be the Prince’s shadow.

“Jeez, if I knew he was your brother I wouldn’t have invited you to lunch,” scoffed Sylvain.

“Hmm,” grunted Flayn, “Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be the first. Anyways,” she said, beginning to walk up the stairs, “Speaking of my brother, he is surely waiting for me. I promised him I would grab some lunch for us from the dining hall instead of a servant. I wanted to stretch my legs and enjoy the nice weather.” Nodding to Byleth, she said, “Good day Professor,” and began up the stairs to the hall.

Upon hearing Flayn reveal that Seteth was not only her brother but also seemed to be somewhat controlling, Byleth decided she definitely did not like the man.

Why do all nobles appear to be so handsome - and well put together, only to be jerks on the inside?

Well, giggled her imaginary friend, Dimitri doesn’t appear to be that way, at least not yet.

Byleth swallowed her retort to her ever present companion as she contemplated the virtues of each man. Well, one boy and one man, truthfully. Hiding her flush, she followed said boy and his bodyguard as they continued the tour.

***

The majority of the mock battle was uneventful. Byleth had organized her students in a simple turtle formation: those with close-range weapons, like the sword or axe, led the way, while the archers and magic users stayed nearby but behind the others. Their group first swept the Golden Deer house, then turned their attention to the Black Eagles.

Most of the students were good sports, until an incident near the end. While Dimitri was focusing on taking out Caspar, Hubert surprised him with a weakened Miasma Δ much too close to his eyes. Dimitri turned to face Hubert, roaring like an animal.

Impossibly fast, the Prince was on the young mage, swinging his blunted training lance with all his might. Hubert managed to jump back quick enough that only his leg got hit. In the rules of the exercise that was enough to knock Hubert out of the game, but in his rage Dimitri raised his lance again for another swing. Without time to think, Edelgard was on the Prince, smashing his raised arm to stop his swing.

Unfortunately, because this was supposed to be a simple exercise without true strikes, none of the students were wearing armor. Edelgard hit him so hard and with so much force that she broke her solid wood axe handle over his arm. Dimitri cried out in pain and fell to the ground, holding his injured arm. It had been enough to snap him out of whatever spell he had been under. Before Dedue had the chance to throttle Edelgard for injuring his Prince, Felix and Sylvain grabbed Dedue by one arm each.

“No Dedue!” called out Dimitri, “It’s just a mock battle! I’m fine!”

Dedue calmed a moment, but Mercedes, the team medic, kneeling beside Dimitri spoke, “No, you are not fine. Manuela, we will need to take him to the infirmary. I believe his forearm is broken, possibly both bones. I can feel one pushing out of the skin, even under his jacket.”

“Goddess dammit El,” spoke Claude, “I know you guys have beef, but that was too much.”

“As it stands,” spoke Jeralt from the side lines, “The Golden Deer have zero players left, the Black Eagles have one, and the Blue Lions have four, now that Dimitri can no longer participate. Byleth,” he turned to his daughter, “Due to the princess inuring an opponent, I can disqualify her, giving you the win. What do you want to do?”

In response, Byleth took her training sword and swiftly jabbed Edelgard in the side with it before the princess could react. Edelgard swore at her, but otherwise conceded the fight. “There, I got her, we win. I have a student to care for.” And with that, Byleth left the field, following Dimitri, who was being led gently by Manuela and Mercedes.

***

While on the field, Manuela had discovered that Dimitri’s arm bone had indeed broken the skin. The older woman decided on bringing him back to the sterile environment of the monastery infirmary. Dimitri, surprising no one but Byleth, insisted on walking himself back to the infirmary.

Apparently, everyone except the new Professor knew that the young man always pushed himself, even walking with a broken arm. Though his legs weren't injured, Dedue and Sylvain were ready to carry him on a stretcher if needed. Byleth was impressed by the loyalty the young king-to-be's vassals showed towards him. He was clearly well-loved by his people, at least these ones.

Once at the infirmary, Manuela ordered Dimitri to lay down in one of the beds. He began to protest, but the older woman firmly said, “I don’t care how strong you think you are young man, you likely have shock, and I do not wanting you to fall out of the chair. Now lay down so I can fix your arm before you faint.”

Grumbling, Dimitri allowed Mercedes and Dedue to gently lay him down into the bed, careful not to jostle his broken arm. “Thank you Dedue,” said Manuela, preparing some sterile bandages, “but I will need you and the other boys to leave. I don’t want the infirmary too crowded in case someone else needs my help. Mercedes and Professor Byleth can stay, as they are training in healing arts.”

Byleth was astonished that Manuela knew about her minor affinity to healing magic but decided not to say anything. Instead, she was intent on watching the woman at her craft, while also watching Dimitri for signs of shock. Byleth wanted to hold the young man’s hand or pat his shoulder but decided that it would not be appropriate at the moment.

Grabbing sterile scissors, Manuela began to cut up the seam of Dimitri’s jacket. The scissors were designed more for cutting bandages and had trouble cutting through the layers of silk lining, tailor’s stiffening, and the wool of the outer layer. Cutting along the seam helped with the bulk. Manuela was clearly doing her best not to destroy the well-made officer’s uniform.

Due to the difficulty in cutting through all of the layers, Manuela had accidentally pulled against the wound. The broken bone that had begin to push through the skin was visible beneath the cloth of Dimitri’s clothing. The Prince screamed in pain the moment the fabric pulled against the protruding bone

“Ach! Goddess dammit!” he wailed, involuntarily yanking his arm back. Byleth immediately reached across his body and put her weight on the top of his bad arm, holding it in place. It was awkward, as she had been standing on the opposite side of the bed from Manuela and Dimitri’s broken arm, but it would have to do. However cumbersome this position may have been, she couldn’t ignore Dimitri’s quickened heart rate, nor his breath, escaping in spurts from his gritted teeth, again her neck. As far as she knew, her own heart beat was impossible to detect, though it must have beat, because blood flowed through her veins, and at the moment, it flowed up to her cheeks in a flush.

“There,” said Manuela, finishing cutting through the jacket. She proceeded to make a much quicker cut through the shirt fabric. Once the fabric was cut away from the skin, past Dimitri’s elbow, Byleth could see the extend of the damage.

When Edelgard had swung at Dimitri the strike had hit his unarmored left forearm. The Princess appeared to have broken the large forearm bone pretty much in two. The end of that bone was now sticking out of his skin, a nasty purple and red bruise forming around the bump. The smaller of the two forearm bones was likely broken as well, but it didn’t appear to be protruding.

“Professor Byleth, please, come over to this side,” said Manuela, preparing a concoction in a mortar and pestle. Byleth walked over to the same side of the bed as Manuela and Dimitri’s broken arm. After mixing in some amber liquid that smelled distinctly like whiskey, Manuela said, “Here, drink this,” presenting the small bowl to Dimitri.

Without asking what it was, Dimitri took the bowl with his good hand and drank it in one gulp. He sputtered and laid back down against the infirmary bed. “Ugh, that was awful, what was it?”

“Whiskey mixed with some poppy seed powder,” said Manuela. Looking to the two young women, Manuela ordered, “Now, this is the hard part. Byleth, hold down the prince, I don’t want him moving too much. Mercedes, I want you to hold his hand tight and pull on my count.” Manuela patted Dimitri’s forehead in a motherly fashion. “Don’t worry young man, this will hurt, but you’ll be alright very soon.”

Manuela placed two small sticks and the bandages in a cart next to the bed, pulling the cart close. “Once the bone is set in place, Byleth, I will need you to grab the dowels and place them on either side of his arm. Mercedes, you will need to wrap his arm fast. I will hold the bones in place and pump healing magic into his arm to keep him from bleeding any more. Dimitri,” she said, looking the prince in the eyes. “I need you to do your very best not to move. Don’t make me get Dedue in here to hold you down.”

“Yes, Professor Manuela,” panted Dimitri. The adrenaline in the young man’s veins appeared to be wearing out as the pain began to affect him more clearly.

“Okay everyone, on the count of three. One, two, THREE!”

Byleth held down the Prince, despite him doing everything he could not to move, her whole weight pressing into his shoulders. Mercedes, clearly experienced in wound care, deftly yanked the prince’s hand towards her, while Manuela pushed the bone back in his arm, a white-blue glow coming from her hands. “Now Byleth, the dowels!” ordered Manuela.

Byleth quickly grabbed the dowels, placing them to either side of the young man’s arm. Mercedes dropped his hand and took the bandage, expertly wrapping around the dowels, Manuela moving her hands providing the healing magic slowly out of the way. “Fantastic work girls!” exclaimed Manuela, once the bandage around the splints and Dimitri’s arm was fully set. Amazingly, the young man had not passed out, his panting letting Byleth know he was still conscious beside her.

“How long do you think it will take to heal?” he asked in exasperation, taking breaths between words. He was clearly struggling, his face flush with pain and sweat beading his brow.

“Oh, about a week, if you don’t move it and you get regular pulses of healing magic,” said Manuela. “I can’t give you everything I have, I need to hold back a little bit in case of an emergency, but the girls here should be able to help you for the rest of the day.

“Mercedes dear, can you go get a cold cloth to put on the prince’s forehead? He’s going to be sweating pretty bad.” Manuela looked to Dimitri, soft concern in her eyes. “My prince, we will have to get you out of those dirty clothes, would you like me to get Dedue to assist? Or another boy from your house?”

“No, it’s fine,” uttered Dimitri, flinching as Mercedes put the cold cloth to his brow. “I’m honestly more comfortable with you three and the nuns in the infirmary than any of those brutes. And Dedue would just get angry seeing me like this. I don’t want him going off to hurt Edelgard.”

“If you say so my dear,” said Manuela. Turning from the prince, she directed a nun to find him some clean clothes. “Byleth, do you mind cutting away the rest of the prince’s jacket and shirt, at least on his left side? Once that’s done we can help with his bottoms.”

Byleth nodded and took the infirmary scissors that Manuela had used. Following along the seams as best she could, she cut the rest of the jacket sleeve up to the shoulder scye seam, cut around that to the jacket’s side seam. Before cutting up the side seam, she also cut the rest of the arm seams on Dimitri shirt. To get to the side seams of both jacket and shirt, she gently rolled Dimitri onto his right side. Cutting up the sides was easier and she was soon able to remove the shirt and jacket up from his left shoulder, completely coming free from his arm.

Mercedes came over to help sit Dimitri up and remove the jacket and shirt from his right side. His skin was hot to Byleth’s touch and he was grunting with pain with their every move. While Mercedes took the soiled and cut up clothing away, Byleth helped Dimitri lay back down. She did her best to look at his face, but she could not help but notice his well muscled chest and stomach as she lay him down. A soft brush of blonde hair grew from his chest, down his belly, past his navel, making him look decidedly mature, despite how thin he still appeared. Feeling her cheeks burn — whether in embarrassment or attraction, she wasn’t sure — she forced herself to look at his face.

Dimitri’s blue eyes were looking to hers, glazed over in pain. A small smile on his face, he told her, “Thank you Professor, for bringing me to the infirmary. I didn’t think it was going to get this bad today.”

“Well,” said Byleth trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe we should get you a shield, instead of you using your arm as one. Or armored gauntlets.”

While Byleth was talking to the Prince, standing near his head, Mercedes had placed a blanket over his mid section. She proceeded to pull off his boots and place them on the ground. Looking to the young man, she asked, “Do I have Your Highness’s permission to remove the rest of your clothes?”

Dimitri snorted and said, “Yes of course Mercedes. I must thank you for your help too.”

Dimitri began to move, but Byleth pushed him back into the bed with a hand firmly on his chest. “No moving, doctor’s orders,” said Byleth.

“That’s right!” exclaimed Manuela, taking clean white pajamas from and infirmary nurse-nun. “Dimitri my dear, we can’t have you hurting your arm again. Just let us help you.” A sparkle in her eye, she added, “We won’t tell your friends about how you needed girls to dress you.”

“Are you kidding?” scoffed Dimitri, holding the blanket weakly over his mid section while he raised his hips to allow Mercedes to pull off his trousers and underwear in one go. “Can you imagine how jealous Sylvain would be, knowing I had three beautiful women doting over me like this, undressing me even?”

Both Mercedes and Byleth shot him a look, astonishment in their eyes. Manuela just laughed and slapped his naked knee. “Be careful young man,” she laughed, “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Grabbing the pyjama pants, Manuela pulled them over his heels and up his legs. Without being asked, Dimitri raised his hips and Manuela gently pulled the pants all the way up, expertly keeping the modesty blanket in place.

“There you go! All dressed, well, for now. We’ll keep the top off for a while until we can get a proper cast on your arm.” Byleth was warmed by Manuela’s caring nature in that moment. She may seem like a flirt, but when it mattered, Manuela knew how to treat her patients well.

“Alright girls, it’s time to let the Prince rest. Mercedes, can you come see him in two hours to deal some healing magic to his arm? And Byleth, can you do it in four hours, when the bedtime bell goes off? I and another one of the nuns here will help him during the night, then I will have you two return to a two hour schedule tomorrow. Does that work for you?”

“Yes professor,” said Mercedes, walking to the door. She waited for Byleth to come with her.

Byleth looked to Dimitri, who was nodding off into sleep, the pain herbs and whiskey doing their work. Nodding to Manuela, Byleth said, “Four hours, got it,” and left with Mercedes.

The boys from the Blue Lions house were all waiting outside of the infirmary, sitting on the benches against the wall. Sylvain and Felix were arguing about girls. Dedue was appearing to meditate, his eyes closed and his hands clenched. Once Mercedes and Byleth were outside and had closed the door, Dedue immediately stood up and confronted them.

“How is the Prince, is he alright? I must go see him!” said Dedue impatiently.

Mercedes put her hand on his forearm, calming him. “Dimitri is alright, he is just resting now. Me and the Professor are on a rotating schedule to cast white magic on him so his arm heals as fast as possible.” She gave the tall young man a soft smile and he calmed, trusting her.

When Dedue had stood, so had Sylvain and Felix. They both looked exhausted, but had stayed as well. Byleth suspected that they had not stayed for Dimitri’s benefit, but Dedue’s. The dark skinned boy was very protective of his prince and the other two knew it could get ugly if he retaliated. “It’s good to hear that His highness is resting,” said Sylvain. “Come on Dedue, lets get going. We all need a good wash.”

“Yeah,” grunted Dedue, following Sylvain and Felix out.

Mercedes began to follow the boys, then looked to Byleth. “Will you be joining me in the baths Professor? I think Annette and Ingrid have already gone.”

“No,” said Byleth, shaking her head. “I need to go report to Lady Rhea and Seteth about how the mock battle went.”

Chapter 10: Seteth - Office

Summary:

Byleth speaks with Seteth in his office.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Just as he was sitting down to eat his evening meal, at knock came at his office door. Grumbling about letting his food go cold and taking a moment to place his circlet on his brow, he spoke loudly, “Come in.” To his chagrin, the new professor walked in. Shutting the door behind her, she walked up to his desk.

“May I speak with you?” she asked.

Cutting a piece of meat from his dish, Seteth motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, Miss Eisner, have a seat.” Chewing the meat, he held a hand in front of his mouth to be polite as he spoke, “Forgive me, I have not eaten my dinner yet, there has been much work to do today.”

“No worries,” said the young woman sitting across from him nonchalantly. Her casual attitude irked Seteth. He was Lady Rhea’s right hand, he was due more respect. Even if he were the one talking with his mouth full. Taking the moment to finish his bite of food, he spoke while cutting the next, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I presume you watched the mock battle this afternoon?” she asked, her face as expressionless as ever.

“I did,” said Seteth, between chews. “Your team did very well. I should commend you for that, I wasn’t sure how well you would do. But,” he put his fork and knife down and looked directly at the new professor. The moment he did, he knew that was a mistake. Her timeless beauty and piercing gaze caused his heart to skip a beat. Why was he always unsettled so by this woman? The musk of her sweat from the mock battle earlier, and her wearing her immodest battle costume wasn’t helping the matter.

“But?” she asked, as he realized he had stopped speaking in mid sentence.

“But,” he continued, pulling his gaze from hers to return to his meal, “Not all battles will be practice ones like this. Will your students be ready?” Seteth took a chance to look at her again. “Will you?”

“Of course,” she snorted, “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to talk about Prince Dimitri. His arm is broken and he’s going to be in the infirmary for at least another few days. I’m afraid his bodyguard is going to murder the Princess, he’s so angry. And,” she said, crossing her arms. “I am too. This was supposed to be a mock battle, friendly competition.”

Seteth did his best to pretend he didn’t notice how in doing so she squished her breasts together, making them more visible above her bodice. He still wasn’t sure if she did movements like that on purpose to arouse and unsettle him. In either case, it worked, but he kept his face emotionless, focusing on his food.

“Yes, we are aware of the Princess' actions today,” Seteth said, pausing to take another bite of meat before continuing. “From what I understand, your student instigated the incident by continuing his attack even after his opponent had tapped out. However, since they are both Crown Heirs, we must handle this delicately. For now, leave it to me.”

“Fine,” she huffed, standing abruptly from the chair.

“Miss Eisner,” he said, standing as well. “This was merely a small, mock battle, just practice. In a few months time the real fight will happen. The battle of the Eagle and Lion will take place during the Wyvern Moon. You are expected to train your students so as not to humiliate the academy during this traditional reenactment battle.

“In the mean time, your house and its students will be given an assignment next month, and every month after that. Garreg Mach monastery has an obligation to help those in need, despite social standing. Students of the officer academy, including the nobility, are not exempt from these missions.”

Byleth’s hands clenched as she listened to Seteth’s orders. Seteth smirked, seeing he had finally unsettled her for once. “You shall work to complete this task alongside your students and report back to me before the deadline, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” said Byleth, gritting her teeth.

“I will soon provide you with the necessary details for your first mission. However,” he smirked again, fully intending to be cruel with his next words, “If I told you now, I expect you would only forget, and I despise repeating myself.”

To his shock, the young woman walked over to his desk and roughly grabbed a quill, the inkpot, and a piece of paper, pulling them in front of her on her side of the desk. Sitting down again, she dipped the quill in the ink and looked up to him. “Well, what are the details? If I write it down, I won’t forget, will I?”

Seteth felt his eyes grow wide. The insubordination from this woman, this girl!? But, she did have a point, and this sort of determination was exactly what he usually looked for in an officer and a professor.

His frustration only grew when he realized that she was sitting at the perfect angle for him to see down her bodice. She wore a collar to keep her jacked attached, and from that collar dangled a large pendant, but Seteth could still see more of her bosom than normal. Not wanting to seem like he was staring, he quickly sat down and sighed. “Fine, Miss Eisner, I will indulge you.

“Your students have been learning about combat through study, but this is an opportunity to provide practical experience.” Seteth crossed his arms as he sat back in his chair. “The Knights of Seiros will be supporting you with this mission. Plan for you and your students to travel out with them in the last week of the Harpstring Moon.” He watched her write “Harpstring Moon” in large, loopy letters. Seteth smiled inwardly at watching her sloppy, feminine handwriting.

“And my father,” she asked, not looking up from her writing. “Will he be joining us?”

“No,” said Seteth, cutting another piece of meat from his dinner plate, “Lady Rhea wants him to stay here.”

Byleth finished writing her note and looked to Seteth. “Will that be all, sir?”

Seteth nodded without looking up. “Yes Miss Eisner, you may go.”

Byleth pushed away from the desk and stood once more. She took some sand to dry the ink on her paper, and said to Seteth, “My apologies for interrupting your meal.”

Seteth smirked and waved her off, mostly only so he would not have to look to her again. He knew he was being rude, but part of him wanted to keep her at arms length. She looked and acted mature, and as far as humans went, was all grown, but to him she would always be young. She was also part of his staff, and he had to be careful to not seem improper. Maintaining an air of propriety, of trustworthiness, was necessary when running the most prestigious officer’s academy in the land. If he had to be rude to a woman he wasn’t even sure he trusted yet, then so be it.

“Keep me updated on how the prince’s recovery goes. He will need to be present for routing the bandits.”

He heard her say, “Yes sir,” in a somewhat sharp tone before closing the door a little harder than she should. Once she had left, Seteth sighed and leaned back in his chair. Removing his circlet, he ran his hands through his hair, pulling it back past his pointed ears.

He routinely kept his ears out of view, to hide the visible sign of his Nabatean heritage. It had been a thousand years since he survived the massacre of his people, but he still had to be careful. Seteth had been alone for most of that time, never willing to open his heart to anyone since his wife had died. But this beautiful, mysterious new professor was making him start to question his chastity. Would his wife understand if he started allowing himself to feel attraction to another woman? And how would Flayn feel?

No, he had to remain chaste, as he had for more than a millennium, to keep himself safe. He couldn’t let anyone in, especially not this strange young woman he knew nothing about. But, for some reason, Lady Rhea trusted her. If Rhea could trust this Byleth, then why couldn’t he?

Annoyed with himself and his thoughts, Seteth begrudgingly dug into his now cold dinner. He couldn’t continue to allow this young woman, this Byleth, to unsettle him. These feelings were below his station.

Chapter 11: Byleth - Infirmary

Summary:

Byleth visits Dimitri in the infirmary.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Content warning: descriptions of medical care.

Later that night, Byleth made sure to check in on Dimitri. He was still sleeping, but thankfully his sweating had seemed to have broken. When she asked the nurse about it, Byleth was told that the Prince likely didn’t have a true fever, and was instead reeling from excessive adrenaline pumping through his body.

As the nurse picked up some dirty linens and walked away, Byleth took the seat next to Prince Dimitri’s bed. He was sleeping soundly on his back, his head turned away from his broken arm. The arm was still not plastered into a cast: Manuela explained leaving the skin of the arm naked allowed the healing magic to more easily penetrate down to his broken bone and torn muscles. At the moment, the injured arm was covered with a plain sheet.

Before removing the sheet from the Prince, Byleth took a moment to look at his face. His youthful visage was serene in sleep. Even though he was young, she could see the hint of a beard beginning to grow, likely from not shaving in a day or two. She knew some older men, like her father, would have to shave daily to remove any stubble from their skin, but she suspected that Dimitri, still being young, did not have to do so as frequently.

Without thinking, she touched her fingers to his jaw in curiosity. Just as she suspected, she could feel roughness there, even though the white-blonde stubble was hard to see in the candle-lit infirmary. Marveling in his soft but masculine beauty, Byleth jumped back when his eyes began to flicker. What was she doing? He was her student!

Dimitri’s eyes opened slightly, looking up to the ceiling, as if confused as to where he was. Looking slowly around, he turned his head, saw Byleth and smiled. “Professor,” he said softly, sleep still on his voice. “Is it that late already? I’ve been sleeping longer than I thought.”

Byleth smiled and drew her hands to the sheet covering Dimitri’s arm. “May I?” she asked, fully aware that just beyond his arm was his naked, well muscled abdomen and chest.

“Of course,” he chuckled, looking down at his arm as she moved the sheet. He sucked in a breath when he saw the giant purple bruise his arm had become. “Wow, it looks worse now than when the bone was sticking out.”

Carefully folding the sheet over his body, Byleth placed her hands about a centimetre above his purple arm. “Now, please, hold still, I don’t want to accidentally touch your arm.” Dimitri grunted in confirmation and Byleth began her magical administrations.

At first she only hovered over the worst spot, focusing her fledgling white healing magic there. She could feel the magic flow from her hands and into Dimitri’s flesh, dissipating a tiny amount in the small gap of air. Feeling more confident that the magic was flowing properly, she laid her hands on his broken arm gently.

Dimitri let out a small gasp of pain, but did not move. She could feel that his body was tense, but he deliberately didn’t move any muscles in his arm beyond his shoulder. Byleth was impressed at his self control.

When the Prince let out a great exhale, Byleth looked to his face. She was surprised to see that he was already staring at her. Behind her stoic facade, she felt the warmth of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. Damned if he wasn’t handsome, more than any man she’d known as a mercenary. Particularly those captivating, round, blue eyes of his.

No! She couldn’t allow herself to think that way about him. He was her student, and younger than her; it was inappropriate. Though, the age gap was barely noticeable in normal circumstances.

Turning her eyes from his face, she looked back to his arm. The purple of the bruise had faded slightly with her ministrations. She could also tell, mainly with her magic, that his bones and muscles continued to remain in the correct orientation, even if they still had tears in them. Thankfully, the magic was doing it’s work in pushing the body’s own healing ability, making it faster and more aggressive than if left on its own.

“There,” she said, removing her hands from the boy’s arm, and pulling the sheet back over. “That does it for now. Make sure you don’t move your arm until Manuela gets the cast on it tomorrow. Seteth wants you present when our house takes on the bandits in a few weeks.”

“Does he now?” mused the Prince, rolling back into the infirmary bed, exhausted with pain. “And how about you, Professor? Do you want me there?”

Byleth blinked in surprise. “Of course I do, Prince Dimitri. The whole house will be there, and you are the house leader.”

He smirked and shot her one more glance, before shutting his eyes and pulling the infirmary blanket and sheets to further cover his bare shoulders. “Please, get some rest,” said Byleth, standing from her stool. “If you do everything Manuela commands you’ll be right as rain by the time we fight those bandits.”

“If you say so,” said Dimitri, his voice tired. “I wish I could walk you back like a gentleman, but Professor Manuela said I am not to move.”

It was now Byleth’s turn to smirk. “Good night, Dimitri,” said Byleth.

“Good night,” mumbled the Prince, as she walked away.

Chapter 12: Seteth - Cathedral

Summary:

Byleth meets Seteth and Flayn in the cathedral.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

The week before the mission, Seteth was walking with Flayn in the cathedral of Garreg Mach. She had wanted to get out of their rooms, and he wanted to stretch his legs. Flayn was curious about the church, so he decided to show her more of it. While he was discussing the statues of the saints with her, they were approached by the new Professor.

“Miss Eisner,” began Seteth, before the young woman could speak, “I am pleased to see you in the cathedral. As a new member of the church, it is good that you wish to familiarize yourself with the church’s teachings.”

Byleth nodded, her gaze resting on the large, gold-painted statues in the alcove above. “I’ve always been fascinated by artwork and architecture, and this cathedral is particularly impressive. However, I don’t yet know much about the meaning behind the artwork.”

“These are the four saints,” began Flayn, “Saint Macuil, Saint Indech, Saint Cichol, and Saint Cethleann. They aided Saint Seiros in her time of need, over a thousand years ago.”

“Saint Macuil was known to be gifted in strategy and magic,” began Seteth, leaning into his well remembered script of the saints. “Saint Indech for his wisdom and shyness; Cichol for his stern nature and strength; and finally, Cethleann, for her ability in the healing arts and willingness to put the needs of others first.”

“Which saint is your favorite Professor?” asked Flayn, an innocent smile on her face.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Byleth, looking up at the larger-than-life statue of Saint Cichol, his lance twice the height of a real person. “Known for his stern nature, eh?” she said, looking wryly at Seteth. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Seteth blushed, his eyes wide for a moment. She was trying to rile him up, he surmised. Though, it was uncanny, how she seemed to cut right through his fog sometimes.

“Professor!” said Flayn, unintentionally interrupting Seteth’s thoughts. “Will you join me and my brother? We were going on a walk around the monastery to stretch our legs.”

“I’m sorry Flayn,” said Byleth, “But I must get back to my students. It is a school day after all.” She turned to Seteth and smiled. “Perhaps you could come to our class and hold a seminar on the saints? I’m sure it would be … illuminating.”

Calling her bluff, Seteth smiled, “Why not. It’s been a few months since I’ve spent time teaching. Just so long as it won’t interfere with your preparations for this month’s mission.”

“Oh don’t worry,” said Byleth with a smirk, “I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would distract that lot on the eve of their first, real battle.”

Seteth smiled as she walked away. Flayn noticed and smacked his hand. “Be careful, brother,” she said, “Or else one might think you’re not so stern as the legends make you out to be.”

Seteth turned on Flayn, a finger to his lips. “Shush, will you child, ‘tis neither the time, nor the place, for such banter.” Holding her hand, he pulled her gently along, continuing their walk from the cathedral and the room containing the statues of the saints.

Chapter 13: Dimitri - Training Grounds

Summary:

Byleth and the Blue Lions spar in the training yard.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

A week later Dimitri and the Blue Lions worked to hone their individual skills in the Academy Training grounds. Dimitri practiced the lance with Ingrid, favoring his right arm while his left was in a cast. Sylvain and Felix sparred with wooden training swords. Mercedes and Annette hit targets with fire magic. Dedue engaged in hand-to-hand combat practice with the Professor.

Amidst this backdrop of preparation, Dimitri found his gaze repeatedly drawn to their Byleth, their strange new professor. Dimitri watched her as she weaved back and forth, dodging every one of Dedue’s punches with remarkable grace. Her movements were as fluid as a dancer's, her focus unwavering. It wasn’t just her skill in combat that captivated him, although it was undeniably impressive. There was a quiet strength in her demeanor; an allure that drew everyone around her in.

In the moments between drills, her engaging indigo eyes would occasionally meet his. Each time they did, an enticing warmth spread through Dimitri. Her mere presence instilled confidence in him, and he found himself yearning to understand more about the woman behind the title of 'Professor'.

Suddenly, a commotion broke Dimitri's reverie. Felix and Sylvain were at it again, their voices rising above the din of training. Felix's face was flushed with anger as he squared off against the taller, red haired boy. Sylvain was wearing his usual smirk.

"You think this is a game, Sylvain?" Felix spat, his fists clenched. "You’re always so careless, never taking anything seriously!"

Sylvain shrugged nonchalantly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, lighten up, Felix. Not everything has to be a life-or-death situation."

Expecting the worst, Dimitri sighed, knowing he had to intervene before things escalated further. But before he could, Byleth's calm and commanding voice cut through the shouts.

"Enough!" she barked, her tone leaving no room for argument. "This behavior is not appropriate for students of the Officer’s Academy! We have a mission to prepare for, and I expect each and every one of you to act with discipline and respect!"

Sylvain smirked, dropping his sword, bringing his hands up in front of him. Felix spat at Sylvain’s feet and turned abruptly. He skulked off to the side to put his training sword away. Felix was half way out the door of the training grounds before the Professor announced, “That’s enough for today. Put away your weapons and head to the baths. We only have a week before we march out with the Knights to the Red Canyon, so I want you all focused and rested by then.”

As the students dispersed, Dimitri couldn't help but admire the way Byleth had handled the situation. Her strength and composure were qualities he deeply respected, and he felt even more determined to prove himself worthy of her leadership. Attempting to not be too obvious, he waited until the other students had all left before he approached her.

“Um, Professor Byleth, may I have a moment?” asked the Prince.

“Oh?” she asked, wiping the sweat from her brow with a towel. “Sure, what’s up?” Dimitri pulled a small box from his training knapsack and handed it to the Professor, trying not to flush as her fingers brushed his. “Oh, what’s this?” she asked, opening the box in front of him. Inside was a card and a small, blue brooch.

“I, uh, overheard Captain Jeralt mention that it was your birthday this month,” said Dimitri, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. “The guys and I thought you would enjoy this token, to show you’re one of us.”

Byleth smiled as she took the brooch and clipped it to her tunic. It was only her loose training tunic, so the brooch pulled the fabric awkwardly low on her shoulder. However, to Dimitri, it looked stunning on her.

“Thank you, Dimitri,” she said, a small grin on her naturally pink lips. Then, abruptly, she looked down at his arm, the one in the cast. “Damn it, how could I have forgotten about your arm? How are you feeling after training? Are you sore?”"

Dimitri smiled, just as surprised as she was about the arm. In all truth, no, he did not feel any pain anymore, the only thing annoying about his arm being the cumbersome cast. But, he knew that if he asked her to help heal him a little, she would, so he allowed himself to be a little bit naughty.

“It’s a little sore,” he said, presenting his arm to her. Without another word, Byleth took his arm and began to press white magic into it. Usually, magical healing was about as comfortable as a growth spurt or stretching your legs too far, but with her, it was worth it. If only to see her dote on him for a moment.

“There,” she said, bringing her hands away, “How does that feel?”

“Much better,” Dimitri smiled, “I should be able to get this cast off in no time.”

“Indeed,” said Byleth, turning from him to go grab her own knapsack in the corner. “Now, off to the baths with you, you’re starting to reek. And don’t get that cast wet! Manuela would kill us both if she had to put another one on when you’re so close to getting this one off.”

“Aye aye, Professor,” saluted Dimitri, following her out of the training grounds.

Chapter 14: Byleth - Audience Chamber

Summary:

The Blue Lions travel to Zanado.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

The battle with the bandits at the Red Canyon was not difficult. In many ways, it went more smoothly than the mock battle during her first month at Garreg Mach, if only because none of her students were injured. Well, not more than a few scratches. The bandits were no match for the skill and discipline of her trained students. The young men and women did, however, have a wide range of emotions for when they made their first kills. Some were proud of themselves, others were unimpressed, but most just seemed sad at the prospect of having to kill another person. The Prince was in a particularly dour mood after the fight.

Byleth, however, found that the most upset by the fight was the voice in her head, the being known as Sothis. This same being was most upset that children were being brought into battle. To save them, in case any of them had fallen, she had given Byleth the power of turning back time by thirty seconds. Miraculously, Byleth did not have to turn back time, though Sylvain did come close to getting his head lopped off when he ran forward against her orders the one time.

Sothis was unusually chatty after the battle as well. After the Prince had noted that the Red Canyon actually looked more like ruins than rocks, Sothis mentioned that she recognized the place. She couldn’t elaborate on any more than that before she fell silent again, leaving Byleth alone with her thoughts.

Looking along the canyon edges, if Byleth squinted, she could imagine the mounds as pyramids, or the cliffs as walls. But if this place had been manmade, instead of by the forces of nature, it had been eroding and reclaimed by nature for many, many long years. What could have happened here, if it truly had been inhabited once, to now look like a barren wasteland?

Back at the monastery, they ran into Edelgard. She and Prince Dimitri had a short spat, one which Byleth watched in mystified fascination. Surprisingly, it was not about his arm, which had only just recently come out of its cast. “Puppy love?” she asked.

The Prince surprised her again by laughing instead of blushing. “Oh no, nothing like that.” But Byleth found that she didn’t believe him. In fact, she could feel a heat welling up in her belly, almost as though she were jealous of the Princess’s familiarity with Dimitri.

Before she could confront her own feelings about the matter, Rhea and Seteth arrived in the small chapel attached to the staff offices on the second floor of the main hall. “Thank you, Professor,” began the archbishop, resplendent and almost glowing in her silken white finery. “It was important that an envoy of the Church deal with infidels in Zanado, the home of the Goddess.”

“Zanado?” asked Byleth, the name sounding familiar.

Just then, Sothis, her invisible companion, piped up, “Zanado? Why do I know that name?” It appeared that they were of one mind on the matter.

“Yes,” continued Lady Rhea, her eyes sad. “In ancient times, it is said that the Goddess revealed herself to the people there at Zanado. In her honor, the people built a great city for the Goddess. But then, a millennium ago, the evil forces of Nemesis destroyed Zanado and all its people. All that is left now is the Red Canyon, so eroded by time it barely looks like people once lived there.”

The entire time Rhea was talking, Byleth noticed that Seteth was looking at her warily. “What is his concern?” asked Sothis, “Does he know something about Zanado too?”

Before the archbishop could continue, Seteth interrupted her: “Lady Rhea, I wish to speak with you about the bandits. I have some classified reports that you should see.” And with that, they were off to his office.

“How strange,” mused Sothis in Byleth’s head. “He definitely knows something. Maybe I also know something about this Zanado. Maybe it used to be my home, but people haven’t lived there in a thousand years. Do you think I may be a ghost?”

Byleth pondered the notion and answered silently in her own head, “I mean, it makes sense. No one can see or hear you but me. You’re probably a ghost, possessing me, or something.”

“I am not a ghost!” protested the voice in her head. “And if you think I am, then you’re not worth talking to.” With that final huff, the voice in her head was silent, leaving Byleth feeling empty and alone. This was all too strange for her. Thankfully all of her students were healthy and ready to take on another month’s worth of instruction, until the church gave them their next assignment.

Chapter 15: Seteth - Audience Chamber

Summary:

Seteth and Rhea argue.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

“What in the name of the Goddess were you thinking!” whispered Seteth angrily once he and Rhea were secreted into her chambers on the third floor. “You can’t just go around talking about Zanado like that! It’s dangerous! Plus, Flayn is here now! We can’t take any chances.”

Rhea, keeping her face neutral, placed a calming hand on Seteth’s arm. “Seteth, do you think I would ever do anything to put Flayn, or yourself for that matter, in danger?” Giving a small smile, Rhea moved her gaze to the window in the stone wall. “We can trust Byleth.”

Crossing his arms, Seteth said, “I don’t know that we can, my lady. I still have no idea why you decided to hire her as a professor, especially when in almost every other case you had left those kinds of decisions to me since I came to Garreg Mach.” Exhaling in frustration, he continued, “Especially since Jeritza was already available to be a house teacher, and he’s been working here for years.”

Rhea gave Seteth a waggish smile. “I’m surprised to hear you say that Seteth. If you trust Jeritza, why can’t you trust Byleth?”

Because Byleth is distractingly beautiful and draws not only my attention, but the attention of most of the other men in Garreg Mach, he wanted to say, but felt better for it.

“Jeritza had recommendations from many nobles in the Adrestian High Court —“

“And Byleth has been recommended by her father, a Knight of Seiros,” interrupted Rhea.

“And,” continued Seteth, further annoyed by the archbishop, “He also was not thrust into a position of such high responsibility out of the gate! She now technically outranks Jeritza, which he’s not very happy with by the way.”

Rhea scoffed and waved her hand at him. “We should raise his wages then, to let him know his work with the Officer’s Academy is not undervalued.”

Seteth sighed and removed his circlet. Due to being only in Rhea’s presence, he felt comfortable showing his pointed ears. He pulled his hair back in exasperation, bunching it tightly at the back of his head with his hands. Even though he had to hide his ears, he still retained that particular nervous habit. Which was one of the reasons for the circlet, to remind him not to do it.

“Just, be more careful, for mine and Flayn’s sake. It’s hard enough for her to call me by my chosen name.”

Rhea placed her hand on Seteth’s shoulder and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “My dear Cichol,” she whispered, her soft words sending a chill up his spine. “You and your daughter are safe here. I promise.”

Feeling that it was now more Seiros, than Rhea, speaking to him, Seteth relaxed. Her strong, certain demeanor always had a way of convincing him. She was his leader, and he was willing to follow her anywhere, even into the depths of hell.

“Yes, my lady,” he said softly, fixing the hair on his head and replacing the circlet. “If you will please excuse me, I have some paperwork to do.” Rhea removed her hand from his shoulder and he left her in her quarters, heading directly for his. He hoped she was right about the new Professor, despite the misgivings he still felt.

***

Several days later, after the breakfast service, Seteth and Rhea called on the Blue Lions to give them that month’s assignment. Looking at the young people before him, Seteth gripped his hands uncomfortably behind him. One boy, Ashe, was the adopted son of Lord Lonato, the same lord who had just so happened to declare rebellion against the church earlier in the week. Seteth was remiss to give his house this mission, but Lady Rhea was adamant.

“Good morning, Blue Lions,” began Seteth, glancing at each one of them, careful not to let his eyes rest on their professor for too long. “News has been brought to us that Lord Lonato has been rallying troops against the church.” Seteth saw that Ashe’s face was stricken with shock as he spoke, but the boy was disciplined enough to hold his tongue. With trepidation, Seteth went on, “The Knights of Seiros have been dispatched to quell this rebellion, and we will have your house travel with the reserve knights to hold the back end of the rear guard. I do not expect you to face battle, but you must still prepare for the worst.”

While he was speaking, a woman with blonde hair and heavy armor walked into the hall. Looking to her, he announced to the group, “Please meet Catherine, she is a well renowned Knight of Seiros. You will be going with her squad to the battlefield. Catherine, please, introduce yourself,” he said, turning to the woman.

Catherine, loud and boisterous as always, gave the group a mock salute. “Nice to meet you all. If you need anything, just ask.”

“She is one of our most brave knights,” began Rhea. “Only a few have what it takes to join the Knights of Seiros. This mission should prove useful in demonstrating how foolish it is to turn against the Church.”

Seteth narrowed his eyes at Lady Rhea. Was that a threat? Why would she threaten her own students?

Seteth noticed Byleth’s usually implacably stony face; her eyes darted between Rhea and Ashe, betraying a hint of unease. When she made eye contact with Seteth, an unspoken agreement passed between them: Lady Rhea’s words were indeed alarming.

Chapter 16: Dimitri - Audience Chamber

Summary:

Dimitri considers his upcoming battle with Lonato.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Initially, Dimitri had been surprised when Catherine had appeared in the audience chamber. He knew she was a Knight of Seiros, swearing fealty to Rhea after her banishment from Faerghus, but it was different seeing her in person. He had not seen her since he was a child, and back then she was just another teenager showing off her skills to the smaller kids. Now she was a stunning, mature woman, intimidating due to her renowned skill with the Hero’s Relic bestowed upon her by the Archbishop.

As they were leaving the audience chamber, Dimitri turned to the newest of the Blue Lions. “Ashe, are you okay?” The boy’s face was pale, looking as though he might faint at any moment. Professor Byleth stood very close to Ashe, prepared to catch him should he collapse. Dimitri admired her deeply for her readiness and concern.

“My father,” he choked out, swaying on his feet. Byleth noticed and directed him to sit down on a nearby bench. “Why? Why would he pick up arms against the church?”

“I don’t know,” replied Dimitri, “Perhaps the Lady Catherine would know more? Do you want us to ask her?”

Ashe shook his head, still dumbstruck by the situation. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Ashe,” spoke Professor Byleth softly, kneeling down so that they were eye level while he was seated. “I’m going to take you back to your room. You need to take the day to rest.” Looking to Dimitri with her fathomless, indigo eyes, she added, “Prince Dimitri, can you take the rest of the students back to the classroom? I would like you all to start reading from your ‘History of the Empire’ text, chapter 3. We can discuss when we get back.”

“Yes Professor,” said Dimitri, as Byleth took Ashe’s hand and led him back to the dormitories. Dimitri watched them go for a moment, admiring how caring she could be to her students, while also being ruthless on the battlefield.

In the back of his mind, Dimitri wished it was his hand that the Professor was holding. He still had tingles in his arm where she had healed him the month prior. During his more ridiculous reveries he considered getting himself hurt again just so that she would heal him. He had not considered that he could just ask for some alone time with her. He was still too shy for that. In his adolescent mind, it was less painful to break a bone again, than to be rejected outright.

About an hour later, Professor Byleth returned to their classroom. She picked up the lesson plan as though nothing had happened, that Ashe had not discovered that they were fighting against his father and his vassals. Dimitri and the rest decided to not ask her about it this day, as the wound was still fresh. But they would have to make a plan, regardless of who they were fighting.

Chapter 17: Byleth - Dining Hall

Summary:

Byleth and Dimitri have a private moment.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

During a boring Sunday Byleth found herself wandering into the Dining Hall. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but as she didn’t really have anything better to do she decided that eating lunch was the best plan. The young professor was surprised to see Seteth there, leaning against a pillar, watching the room.

Byleth didn’t often expect to see Seteth outside of the administrative wing of the monastery, and yet, here he was. It was the second time in as many days, and she was wondering if he was making it a habit for his sister’s sake. She was pleased to see his uncharacteristically casual stance, and the consternation on his usually stern and stoic face, his eyebrows all bunched up in outward annoyance. He could be cute when not doing his best to look like an emotionless statue. Though, she guessed, she had the same problem, what with her difficulty in showing emotions.

Practically skipping up to the older man, though he seemed old only due to his bearing as his face bore few wrinkles, Byleth noticed his eyes lock onto her as she approached. Expecting him to speak first, as he usually did, she stood in front of him for a few awkward moments before saying, “Hello Seteth, I don’t usually see you in the Dining Hall.”

Byleth wasn’t sure how he would reply, but she was not expecting his next words: “Have you seen any boys making advancements towards Flayn?” he asked.

Blinking at him surprise, Byleth answered, “Well, no, not really? Unless you count Sylvain, but he talks like that to everyone.”

Seteth’s eyes flared in anger for a moment before he hid it yet again behind his less-stony-than-usual face. “If you see anything of the sort in the future, please inform the perpetrators of their peril,” he growled, showing the slightest bit of teeth.

This tiny growl caused a tiny tingle to dance up the back of Byleth’s spine. His change in what was usually a soft, calm voice caused her to reevaluate this strange man. Apparently, the prim and proper Administrator could show some emotion other than boredom, when it suited him.

“Oh, I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” said Byleth, “Flayn is a smart girl. I’ll still have a talk with Sylvain though, if you insist. He can be a bit much at times. Felix and Ingrid have warned me enough already about his antics.”

“Thank you,” said Seteth, his eyes softening when he looked at her. “Flayn is … very important to me.”

“Oh!” said Byleth, remembering the feather in her pocket. “I noticed you were always writing, so when I saw this on the ground, I thought you might want it.” She took the pristine owl feather from her pocket and handed it to him.

Taking it, he looked at it curiously, then back to her. “Thank you,” he said softly, “That was very … thoughtful of you.” Several seconds passed as they looked into each others eyes, enough time for her to notice the silver flecks in his green irises.

He really is a handsome man, once you gave him a chance, she mused. Embarrassed at the thought, she looked away, feeling a flush rising to her cheeks.

“Yes, well, I better go speak to Sylvain,” she said, ducking her blushing cheeks behind her long hair. Completely forgetting to get lunch, she left the hall in haste. Hoping the administrator, her boss, hadn’t noticed her flushed face, she dashed back to the Blue Lions classroom. Unbeknownst to her, a certain prince had witnessed her flight and decided to follow.

***

Byleth nearly jumped out of her chair when she heard the door of her classroom shut. Despite her sitting at her desk at the front of the room, which faced the door, she had been resting her head on her desk. It wasn’t often that she spent any time in her classroom on a Sunday, and even less when another person would come in either.

“Oh my, Professor,” came a familiar male voice. “I apologize, I did not mean to startle you!”

Sitting up, she gave the Prince Dimitri a half hearted smile. “Don’t worry about it Dimitri, I just wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“I can leave, if you wish,” he said, a bit of a hitch in his voice.

“No,” she said, stretching her neck. She had been resting on the desk at an odd angle, and even though it couldn’t have been long, she must have dozed off. “It’s quite alright. Though, I am surprised to see you in here on a Sunday. Didn’t the other boys go into town?”

Dimitri shook his head as he pulled a chair from the front row to sit across from her desk. “Yeah, but I didn’t want to go with them. I didn’t feel like being in a crowd,” he said, “Sometimes, I just need a break from people, you know?”

She nodded, placing her chin in her hand, resting her elbow on her desk, and giving a large yawn. “Yes, I definitely do know what you mean.”

“Professor,” he began, “Why don’t you go to bed? I know it’s midday, but surely your bed is more comfortable than your desk?”

“You know what? You’re right, Dimitri,” she said, pushing away from her desk. “We’ve all got a full day of school tomorrow, might as well get our rest today.”

“Please, allow me to escort you,” he said, his voice squeaking an octave higher. “To make up for when I couldn’t when you came to help me in the infirmary.”

Giving him a playful smile, she threaded her arm through his, the one that had not been broken, and said, “If you insist, Your Highness.”

If she hadn’t known better, the polite and noble Prince was feeling embarrassed just now. Or was it nerves? Even through his officer’s jacket, Byleth could feel his heart beat just a little faster. She wondered if he had noticed it at all.

When they arrived at her room, she walked with him up to the door. Releasing his arm, she took the key from her pocket to unlock the door and open it. “Would you like to come inside?”

The Prince’s young face grew very red in a very short amount of time. Even the skin under his too-light blonde hair was visibly pinker. Byleth wondered if she had angered or upset him in some way, not understanding why his demeanor would change so suddenly. Goddess dammit, she thought, I’ve done it again, gone and upset someone when I was only trying to be nice.

“No-no thank you, Professor,” said the young man, standing straight as a board. “It would not be proper for me to be alone in your private quarters.”

“Why not?” she asked, genuinely curious. “I’ve been alone with students plenty of times. We were just alone in the classroom together.”

The prince shook his head. “I’m sorry, my lady, but it would not be proper for me to enter your private quarters.” Turning to leave, he said, “I will see you tomorrow morning for class. Please, get some rest.”

“Please, wait,” she began, grabbing an object on the floor near the door to her room.

Dimitri stopped and waited for her to hand him the object. After a moment, he seemed to recognize what it was. “Oh, this is one of my swords!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Where did you find it?”

Byleth shrugged, standing within the doorway to her room. “It was on the floor of the training hall, behind the rack of practice swords. I wasn’t fully sure it was yours, it just had the Faerghus royal symbol on it.” Giving him a genuine smile, hoping this would make up for any earlier mistakes she had made, she said, “I’m glad I could get it back to you. See you tomorrow!” And with that half hearted farewell, she closed the door.

Utterly frustrated with herself, Byleth plopped herself down at her desk and grabbed her loose journal sheets. Manuela had suggested she start writing down her feelings to help process them. Even though the older woman seemed like the utter opposite of her, she was very insightful.

And so Byleth wrote for what felt like hours. About how she thought she was being nice giving people gifts, but instead everyone seemed confused or upset when she did it. How she liked that people admired her for her skill with the sword, but wished they saw past that. About how she just couldn’t understand why Dimitri was always awkward around her even though she tried to include him as much as she could. And how no matter what she did, no matter how hard she worked to be a good teacher, Seteth still hated her.

She wrote until the sun was too dim to illuminate her paper. Sifting sand over her last page of writing to dry the ink, Byleth grabbed the leather folder she kept her journal papers in from the top shelf of her desk and placed the dry pages within. Once the last page was dry, she also placed it within the leather folio.

Exhausted, both emotionally and physically, Byleth only bothered to take off her boots before falling into bed. Tomorrow was another day where she had to face a classroom full of students that she didn’t understand, no matter how much work she put into it. She couldn’t avoid Dimitri, even though she wanted to, feeling as though he were upset with her in some way. Hopefully she didn’t run into the dour Seteth; she was fine waiting until he provided her house with orders before being on the receiving end of his disapproving stares once again.

Chapter 18: Dimitri - Training Grounds

Summary:

Dimitri trains with Catherine.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Once the Professor shut the door to him, Dimitri felt as though he could finally exhale. By the Goddess he felt stupid! She had presented him the perfect opportunity to be alone with her, and like a fool he told her no! Because of propriety? What a stupid reason! Dimitri wanted to smack himself over the head, but due to him being out in front of the lower level dorms, he didn’t want anyone to see.

Looking down to the old sword, he could feel tears of frustration well in his eyes. Even after he was so rude to her, denying her invitation, she still felt compelled to be kind to him. Completely upset with himself, Dimitri skulked over to the training ground, looking to work out the frustration in a productive manner.

In the long shadows of the late afternoon, there weren’t many other students in the training grounds. Usually, Dimitri would look for Felix to train with, but his former friend now preferred to train in the morning. It was yet another relationship lost in the years since the Tragedy, and Dimitri wasn’t sure how to mend it. Felix had witnessed him lose control during a rebellion a few years prior, leading to a loss of trust in Dimitri’s ability to manage his rage. Dimitri was reluctant to admit that the Duke’s son might have a point.

Taking the old training sword the Professor had just returned to him, he began to work on the pell. Several of these ancient devices dotted the training grounds, favored by many of the Faerghian and Alliance nobility. The pell, with its upright wooden post set in a heavy iron base, featured several smaller wooden dowels placed at perpendicular angles. Dimitri used it to practice his strikes and parries.

After he had been working at it a while, building up a sweat, he heard a familiar deep, feminine voice call out behind him, “Hey there. At it again, are we?” Dimitri turned to see Catherine behind him, wearing basic training clothing instead of her Knights of Seiros armor. “Ever since I returned to Garreg Mach it seems like I’ve seen you training in here every day.”

“Yes, well, it’s my routine,” he answered, watching her. “I just don’t feel right until I’ve held a weapon. Kind of like forgetting to put on shoes, it’s like second nature for me at this point.”

“Heh,” she grunted, walking past him to search for a training sword on the racks. “I remember you saying something similar when you were little.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled, searching through his memories. Time from before the Tragedy were difficult for him to recall. “I guess you’re right.”

Picking out a simple sword much like the one he was carrying, she said, “I’ve been meaning to come talk to you properly. How long has it been?” She walked over to him, studying the pell he was working against. “A decade? More? We last saw each other in Fhirdiad, right?”

“Mmhm,” hummed Dimitri, eyes still on the woman. She wasn’t any taller than he remembered, but her voice was deeper, her movements more sure. He tried not to notice how much more curvaceous she was than the skinny teen he remembered. Even in the relatively loose fitting training tunic he could see her womanly curves.

“You were just a little pipsqueak then!” she quipped, turning to him. He blushed as she watched her eyes track his body from his toes to his eyes. “You really have grown up, haven’t you?”

“I don’t think it’s been that long,” he coughed, squirming under her gaze. “But I do remember your first words to me: ‘Look at that cute little girl wielding a giant lance! How adorable!’” Dimitri intentionally made a mocking girls tone with his voice on the last line.

Catherine guffawed and smacked him on the shoulder. “You really did have an awful haircut!” Her laugh was infectious and soon Dimitri was joining in.

“It’s all water under the bridge. Though, I was quite furious about it at the time.”

“Heh, yeah, my father sure did give me an earful for speaking so rudely to the Crown Prince. But,” she said, calming her tone, “I never had the chance to apologize. I was always getting in trouble back then. Then Duscur happened …”

The air hang heavy between them as memories of the Tragedy washed over their collective memories. Wishing to return the suddenly dour mood to one of happy reunions, Dimitri asked, “Speaking of … do you think you will ever go back … Cassandra?” He saw her wince upon hearing the sting of her birth name and immediately felt sorry for his words.

“Please, my name is Catherine now,” she said in a quiet tone. Breathing in heavily, she forced a smile to her face. “That part of me died when I left. I’m happy with my life here. I no longer fight for King and country, I fight for Lady Rhea.”

“It doesn’t bother you? Being labeled a criminal?” He watched her for her reaction to his words. She seemed to be much less upset at being labeled a criminal than mention of her birth name.

“Not at all, seeing I don’t live in Faerghus anymore.” Shrugging, she took her training sword and gave the pell a particularly hard whack. “Don’t worry about me, kid.” He was unsure why, but her calling him “kid” stung in its own way. “I prefer being here to being a noblewoman of the Kingdom. I have the freedom to be who I want to be here.”

“Is that so?”

Catherine turned around, her free hand on her hip, using her sword like a cane to lean on. “Don’t be so serious. Haven’t you ever wanted to roam free? Live life on your terms? Go where you want to go? Love who you want to love? Not be tied down by rules and traditions and Princely obligations?”

Truth be told, Dimitri had never thought about it. His entire life he had known he was going to replace his father as King one day. At some point in the future he would be betrothed to a girl of high political ranking, just as he. That future had become a lot more real and a lot more sudden when his father was murdered during the Tragedy of Duscur. He was surprised to learn in that moment that he did indeed yearn, at least somewhat, for the life Catherine described.

“I can't say the thought has never crossed my mind,” he lied, trying to save face in front of this infuriating woman. “I am the son of a King. I cannot put my own desires before the good of the Kingdom.”

“Ugh,” groaned Catherine, “You’re all doom and gloom, way too stiff!”

“Don’t worry,” chuckled Dimitri, twirling his training sword before her. “I stretch every day, it’s part of my routine.”

“Hah!” she guffawed again. Dimitri found that he enjoyed the sound of her laughter, as loud and uncouth as it was. “If you can joke about it, there’s hope for you yet!”

Chapter 19: Seteth - Office

Summary:

Seteth thinks about Byleth while working in his office.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Later at night, after escorting Flayn to bed, Seteth found himself sitting at the desk in his office. He knew he should have gone to bed himself, but he found that he couldn’t. His mind was racing with too many new creative ideas he wanted to write down. Once in a while, the muse of creativity would come to him, and he was compelled to put his imagination to ink. Ever since Flayn had returned to him his mood had lightened, and with it came the energy to write.

He had spent much the long centuries alone, protecting his daughter as she slumbered. However, once every year or so, he would venture out from his hideaway on the coast, looking for conversation with a creature that could converse back; he loved his wyverns but they unfortunately had not yet learned how to speak.

During those outings he would try exotic foods, purchase fabric for making clothing and bedding, but most importantly, he would collect stories. Stories of ordinary people’s lives, stories of wars, stories of nobles and kings. But his favorite were the folklore, fables, and fairy tales.

One day he was surprised to hear that he himself had become a folktale of sorts: The Green Knight. Sometimes the knight was the stalwart protector of a goddess, other times he protected an overgrown church, and his favorite, of an underwater temple full of treasure. They were all true, in one way or another, but also untrue in other ways.

Seteth had written all of these stories down during his long solitude. With nothing much else but to do but watch over a daughter that had been asleep for centuries and raise the wyverns who already naturally inhabited the coast he dwelled in, he had gotten much writing done. At least a quarter of the library of Garreg Mach were his own works, though under pseudonyms.

Granted, his current name, Seteth, was a pseudonym, or at least it was once. Now it was more his name than his birth name of Cichol, especially since Seiros had corrupted it and given it to a saint of her new church. She had also stolen the names of his brothers and even his daughter to use for her saints. Though, Seiros was now Rhea, much like he was now Seteth and not Cichol. Even she was capable of change, though she were still as controlling and enigmatic as ever.

Sitting down to write, Seteth looked over his desk for a quill that was in good condition. Finding none, he began to open his desk drawer, then remembered he had one in his pocket. Pulling the owl feather in question from his pocket, he looked at it in consternation. Why had she given him this? What was in it for her?

Or, perhaps she wanted nothing? Perhaps she was just being kind? Is it so hard to think that she would be attentive enough to him that she would notice an errant feather and think he may need one? Or, just enjoy having one? It was quite nice; a full sized wing feather with all of its vane intact.

Smiling to himself, Seteth pulled out his pocket knife and began to pare down the feather, turning it into a usable writing quill. The new professor continued to surprise him, and not in bad ways. Perhaps Rhea was not wrong to hire her. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he trusted this new professor, or Rhea for that matter, but he did have to admit, she was growing on him.

***

Earlier that day the students of the Blue Lions, along with their new professor, were sent out with Catherine and the Knights of Seiros to deal with Lonato. Seteth had felt a great sense of unease the moment he heard of the old nobelman’s rebellion. Something about it was just off. He felt even worse that the man’s adopted son, the boy named Ashe, was dispatched along with the rest of his house.

Seteth’s worries were justified when a messenger had been sent ahead of Byleth, Dimitri, and Catherine’s party, to warn Rhea, and thereby Seteth, of the assassination plot. Upon seeing the note, Seteth’s heart skipped a beat and fear made his blood run cold. He had imagined that he, and especially Flayn, would be safe at Garreg Mach, under Rhea’s protection. He certainly hadn’t experienced such a danger since his arrival almost twenty years earlier.

Steadying himself, he went to speak to Rhea. Unsurprisingly, she was both calm and resolute, relatively unbothered by the apparent plot. “Do not worry for me, Seteth,” she said, her voice gentle. “I have had many attempts on my life over the centuries. It comes with being the leader of such an influential institution. We will have the new Professor help defend myself and the monastery against any incursion.”

“As you wish,” said Seteth, his tone more formal than he usually used with his ancient friend. As usual, there was something she wasn’t telling him, but he wasn’t ready to pry this secret from her. They had the Professor and her students to greet first.

About an hour later, Professor Byleth and her students of the Blue Lions house arrived. Seteth and Rhea greeted them in the second floor chapel, above the entrance hall, as per usual. They were all battle worn, sweaty, and covered in mud, as well as some flecks of blood they had missed.

“Welcome back,” greeted Seteth, his eyes glancing over each person, but resting on the Professor. Even covered in mud and sweat, she continued to be ethereally beautiful and strange to him. He always struggled to keep his eyes only on her face, though found that difficult with how her gaze seemed to bore into him. “Congratulations on a successful mission, Professor.”

To Seteth’s chagrin, Byleth only replied, “My students deserver the praise, not me. They did the majority of the fighting. And Felix is the one who felled the dark mage causing the fog to be so heavy.”

“Even so,” said Rhea, “You all did a wonderful job.” Her voice going hard, she continued, “We must always punish sinners who wish to fight against the church.”

Blinking in surprise, Seteth stood straighter, so as not to reveal his feelings to those present. He had experienced Rhea’s zealous love for her church several times since coming to work for her and the monastery, but this felt different. Almost as though she relished the deaths of those she would call ‘infidels’. Clearing his throat, he said, “Our new concern is this assassination plot against the Archbishop. Miss Eisner,” he said, once again looking Byleth’s way, “During the Rite of Rebirth, Lady Rhea and I will be confined to the Goddess Tower. The monastery will be full of people visiting for the holy day, so we will need you and your students to be on guard.”

“Thank you, again,” said Rhea, giving them all what seemed like a genuine smile. “You are all dismissed.”

Each of the students, even the Crown Prince Dimitri, bowed their heads to the lady and turned to retreat. Byleth stayed behind a moment longer, an unreadable look on her face as she looked to Seteth. He was wondering if she was about to say something before she nodded, and turned as well.

What a strange young woman, he thought as he watched her go.

Chapter 20: Byleth - Gardens

Summary:

Byleth runs into Seteth and follows him back to his office in the days before the Rite of Rebirth.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

The next Sunday, after returning to the monastery following the battle against Lonato and his men, Byleth was happily walking through the gardens. She appreciated their simple beauty, though she preferred the wild nature of the old growth forests just outside Garreg Mach’s walls. There, she could climb over knotted roots or high up into the trees. She could find any number of creepy crawlies under any rock, and the smell of a living, dense wood always put her at ease. Garreg Mach’s gardens were lovely, but they were too manicured, not wild enough to truly be considered a forest. For one, forests didn’t have their trees planted inside ceramic jars, no matter how big they were.

Half way between the dining and entrance halls, she ran into Seteth, quite literally. To be clear, it was Seteth who ran into her, his mind elsewhere from the present moment. During the confusion of the impact, Seteth had dropped the small bag he was carrying. A bright pink and yellow toffee wrapped in wax paper rolled out of the bag, seemingly more within.

“What’s this?” asked Byleth jovially, picking up the bag and errant toffee. “I didn’t take you for having much of a sweet tooth.”

“Ah, well,” said Seteth in a huff, taking the bag and candy back from Byleth, “Flayn told me she was going into town to get candy, but I didn’t want her getting all mixed up in the crowds right now, so I went in her stead.” Byleth pretended that she didn’t hear him mutter under his breath, “She could have picked a better time to demand candy though.”

“I see,” said Byleth, watching Seteth. This was one of the few times, if ever, that she had seen him so agitated. It made him seem almost normal. As he was turning to leave, she added, “Before you go, I received some intelligence on that bandit group raiding Northern Faerghus.”

“Oh?” he asked, turning to face her fully, back to his stern demeanor, much to her regret. Part of her enjoyed seeming him all flustered.

Byleth handed him a report, rolled up and tied with a bow. “Yes, it seems they’re operating out of somewhere called ‘Conand Tower’.”

Taking the rolled up report, Seteth nodded his thanks, and continued walking back to the entrance hall. Sensing something was off with the normally so stoic man, Byleth followed him. “Hey,” she said, following him up the stairs to his office. “Are you okay?”

Exhaling loudly out his nose, Seteth stopped at the top of the stairs, waiting for her to reach his level. His eyes closed, he said, “Yes, Miss Eisner, there is no need to worry about me. I am fine.”

Byleth put her hand on his shoulder, feeling him flinch slightly at her touch. Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, she removed her hand, a feeling of embarrassment hovering over her. Goddess be damned, she had done it again, gone and made someone uncomfortable when she didn’t mean to. “I’m sorry, I just thought you were having a hard time is all.”

Seteth sighed again, and turned to her. She wasn’t sure if he meant to, but his face had relaxed and his mouth almost cracked into a smile. “Thank you, for your concern.” Seteth patted her on the shoulder and she imagined little jolts of electricity at his touch, though she knew he wasn’t casting any magic on her. What could that feeling be, she wondered. “I am just … stressed, with the upcoming rites. And, as you can see, even Flayn is testing my patience it seems.”

“Well,” said Byleth, wishing he would pat her shoulder again, “If you need any help, I’m happy to, you know, help.” She flushed, shamed by the lack of poise in her words.

Seteth gave a small laugh that turned into a genuine smile. Byleth could feel her skin tingle seeing how handsome this strange man was when he smiled. “Miss Eisner, I already ask too much of you and your Blue Lions. Rest assured, your protecting Rhea during the Rite of Rebirth, and whatever else we may ask of you after that is more than enough. Now,” he said, turned to continue to his office. “I must go back to work. There are always more letters to write, and you’ve brought me important information.” Nodding to her, he walked off.

Realizing she was standing there, at the top of the stairs, staring after him, her embarrassment increased even more. She was mortified when she heard her father’s gruff voice bark from his office, “Byleth! I’ve been looking for you! By the goddess girl, you’ve been running all over creation! Come here, I need to discuss strategy with you.” With her tail metaphorically between her legs, she skulked to her father’s office.

Chapter 21: Dimitri - Classroom

Summary:

Dimitri confides in Byleth.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Dimitri stood in front of his friends and his professor, explaining his plan to have everyone patrol the chapel near the entrance to the crypt and watch for anyone entering. Thankfully, Seteth would be with Rhea in the Goddess Tower, and from what Dimitri knew of the older man’s skill with a lance, he knew the Archbishop was safe in his hands. Once the planning was done, he swallowed the butterflies in his chest and asked the Professor to stay behind. He wanted to talk to her privately.

“Ah, Professor, I would like a word?” he asked, worried he was sounding too formal.

“Of course, Dimitri,” said Byleth, nodding her good byes to the other students as they left the room. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?” he asked.

“Oh?” said Byleth, her expression blank but her eyes wide and focused on him. He could melt under that gaze.

“I was wondering if you could come with me to instruct the orphans here at the monastery. You see, every weekend I spend some time with them. They’re good kids, good listeners too. Better than some of the students sometimes.”

“Um, sure?” said Byleth quizzically. “But, why do you spend your extra time with the orphans? You have so much other work to do, you must be exhausted.”

“Well, you see,” he said, feeling self-conscious. He drew his fingers through his mop of hair, which never seemed to tame itself. “I’m not sure if you knew, but I’m an orphan too. A part of me feels like I have an obligation to help them because I understand them.” He didn’t know when he had begun to cry, but he could feel a hot, wet tear fall down his cheek.

“Oh Dimitri,” said Byleth coming to his side. She grabbed a handkerchief from some pocket he didn’t see and pressed it into his hands. “I had heard, but I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it at all. I wasn’t sure how comfortable you were.”

“My whole family died at Duscur,” he continued, taking the delicate handkerchief and bringing it to his eyes. Part of him was mortified that he was crying in front of his beautiful, worldly professor, but another part felt safe with her. “After that, my only friend was Dedue. Everyone I could trust had been taken away.”

He hadn’t consciously realized it, but Byleth had helped him to sit in a chair. She grabbed another chair to sit next to him and held his hand as he continued his story. He held her handkerchief in his hand, gripping it in the gauntlet he took to wearing after the incident that cause his broken arm earlier that year.

“Is there no one that you are close to now, other than Dedue?” she asked, her voice soft and full of caring.

“Lord Rodrigue,” said Dimitri, sniffling. “He’s like a second father to me. He took me in, took care of me after the tragedy. Felix thinks he was just trying to replace his dead son, Glenn, Felix’s older brother with me, and has never forgiven me for it.” Dimitri looked to Byleth, his eyes still glassy from the tears. “But to me, he was just a good man, who saw a lost boy and wanted to help.”

Looking as though she were about to cry herself, Byleth grasped Dimitri by the shoulders and drew him into a hug. Holding him tightly, she whispered into his ear, “Don’t worry, I’m here, you can trust me.” In that moment, as he embraced her back, feeling his heart flip-flop with emotions of safety and desire, he knew that he could indeed trust her.

Chapter 22: Seteth - Cathedral

Summary:

Seteth's experience before and after the Rite of Rebirth.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Content warning: descriptions of a death sentence.

Once Rhea was safely inside the Goddess Tower, Seteth took a moment to convene with Byleth and the Blue Lions. Greeting them, Flayn at his side, he was annoyed with how overly relaxed the youngsters all seemed. Lady Rhea had a credible threat on her life, and these children were all smiles and jokes as they awaited mausoleum opening during the Rite of Rebirth.

While they were jostling and joking with each other, Seteth made his entrance and spoke loudly, almost like a drill instructor: “Attention!” All of the students miraculously stood at attention. Their professor, however, just looked to him with a smirk, her arms crossed over her chest.

Ignoring her belligerent stance, he said, “Miss Eisner, your house appears to be somewhat too relaxed when they should be preparing to defend the Archbishop.”

“We are ready, I can assure you,” she said, her arms still crossed.

“I must remind you that Rhea and I will be locked within the tower during the rite and must rely on you for our protection.” Pausing, he looked directly into her eyes, which mirrored back at him like timeless pools of unfathomable depth. He felt as though he could get lost in the beauty of those eyes, and not for the first time.

“Please, forgive my brother,” piped up Flayn, much to Seteth’s chagrin. “He can be insensitive. He told me earlier that you would be better off patrolling a coffin.”

Byleth looked to Seteth, apparently amused at the bewildered look on his face. “Coffin, you say?”

“Flayn!” exclaimed Seteth, “That was said in jest. And in confidence!” Grumbling he looked directly at Flayn and spoke, “You will stay by my side and not cause any more trouble, understood?”

Disheartened, Flayn nodded. Seteth hated telling her off, but sometimes one had to be hard to get the point across. She may have been over a thousand years old, but had been asleep for most of that, so she was still a child in his eyes. Though, in hers, and many others, she was a young woman, and that ruffled his feathers.

“Miss Eisner,” he said, turning to Byleth. “We are about to retire to the tower. Please, lead your students down a path of righteousness.”

“Of course,” she replied, watching him as he and Flayn walked away.

***

Upon leaving the Goddess Tower after the Rite, Seteth was supremely shocked to find that not only had brigands infiltrated the holy tomb, but had sought to steal the goddess’ body from within. However, Byleth had stopped them, and in so doing, discovered that it was not Sothis’ body that was kept within the mausoleum, but the Sword of the Creator. Well, not her whole body anyway. Seteth knew full well that this sword had been made from the remains of his goddess. But it no longer had its crest. And even more strange, the young professor could wield it without transforming into a black beast.

Before him and Rhea stood the priests of the Western Church that had organize the raid. Each of them had been defrocked and their head coverings removed. Where he was shocked, Rhea was seething with anger.

Byleth and her students stood to the side, the professor holding the Sword of the Creator in her hand.

Looking to the prisoners in front of him, Seteth inhaled deeply before speaking, “You have all committed an egregious beach of father. As such, you will all pass judgment.”

“Even though you are of the Church of Seiros,” began Rhea, “In fact, because you are, you deserve death for dishonoring a holy ceremony.”

“What, no!” they all cried out, some stepping forward, others shying away in fear. “We were deceived!”

“I order you all to death by beheading,” spoke Rhea, in a tone more filled with hate and fury than Seteth had seen her since the great war centuries before.

Swallowing his disgust at their sentence, he nodded to his lady. “Yes, archbishop,” he said. Looking to an attending knight, he nodded, and they took the prisoners away.

Turning to the Blue Lions, he said, “You are all dismissed, except for Miss Eisner. Lady Rhea and I must speak with her.” For a moment, based on the way the young man looked at him and the archbishop, Seteth was concerned the prince would not leave without making a scene. He had looked away in disgust when the archbishop had passed judgment on the prisoners.

Once it was just Lady Rhea, Byleth, and himself in the room, Rhea spoke, “Thank you, dear Byleth, for protecting the Sword of the Creator. Due to your bravery and ability to use the sword, I will entrust it to you.”

Surprised at Rhea’s decision, Seteth immediately objected, “Are you insane!? How could you even conceive of letting this, this stranger wield the Sword of the Creator!?” He saw that the young woman was visibly hurt when he called her a stranger, but it was the truth. She may have been showing herself to be a competent teacher, but she was still a stranger to the church, to him.

His voice cracking with emotion as he continued, “What if someone like Nemesis appears again, takes the sword, and reignites the flames of the Great War!?”

Rhea’s face visibly contorting in to fury at his insolence, Byleth, seemingly unintentionally, diverted her attention by asking, “Who is Nemesis”

Exhaling in an exasperated sigh, Seteth explained, “Nemesis was the leader of the army that fought against Saint Seiros during the Great War. He wielded the Sword of the Creator and wrought great destruction with it.”

Taking a breath, giving himself time to push the emotions down that came with talking, even tangentially, about the genocide of his people, he added, “The sword corrupted him, and I am afraid that it could corrupt you too, Miss Eisner.”

Looking to Rhea, his eyes glassy with the beginnings of tears, he asked her, “Please Rhea, please reconsider giving her the sword.”

Shaking her head softly, Rhea placed her hand on his arm. “Please, Seteth, do not worry. I trust Byleth with the sword, she is nothing like Nemesis. She will not become corrupted.”

Feeling it best to concede the point, at least for now, Seteth closed his eyes and bowed his head to the archbishop. Taking a deep breath, he stood straight and looked to the increasingly strange and worrisome professor. “Miss Eisner, please understand the weight of what Rhea has given you, and do not betray her trust.”

Her face back to its stoic, stony visage, the young woman nodded and said, “Seteth, Lady Rhea, I promise. I will do everything in my power to keep this sword safe.”

And, for the time being, that promise would have to do. Not only for Seteth and his precious Flayn, but also for everyone else that would come near this odd young woman and the holy relic she now possessed.

Chapter 23: Dimitri - Classroom

Summary:

Dimitri goes to Byleth for healing after the Rite of Rebirth.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Content warning: destructive anger.

Dimitri was fuming as he marched back to the Blue Lions classroom. He had dismissed the rest of the students, but Dedue, ever his shadow, continued to walk with him. Once they had gotten to the classroom, Dimitri found the nearest chair and threw it across the room with all his might, screaming in rage. Dedue gently closed the door, protecting his prince from any prying eyes.

Not to be content with only throwing the chair, Dimitri stalked over to it, picked it up, and slammed it on the floor. Over and over he smashed it until it was merely splinters. His gauntlets protected his hands from any wooden shards flying about, but one had pierced his cheek. “Goddess dammit!” he grunted. Wiping his cheek with his gauntleted hand he felt the sting of the sliver. “I can’t believe she ordered their deaths! Just like that! They were part of her own church too, by the Goddess!”

“They were of the Western Church; you heard the Lady say so yourself,” said Dedue, approaching him. “Stand still.” With large but not indelicate fingers, he pressed his prince’s cheek until the relatively large sliver of wood popped out. “I don’t know if there’s more wood. You should seek out Mercedes or the Professor for a more thorough inspection.”

“Will you tell her why there’s wood in my face?” Dimitri asked, his burning temper beginning to cool. “The Professor, I mean.”

“No,” said Dedue, beginning to pick up the pieces of the broken chair. Dimitri stooped to help him, shamed by his untamed anger in that moment. “But I think you should. You care for her, you should be honest with her.”

Dimitri, shocked by his best friend’s words, flinched, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Of c-c-course I care for her, she’s my teacher! Our teacher!”

Dedue scoffed, picking up the rest of the broken chair. “I can see the way you look at her, practically undressing her with your eyes. You’re not as subtle as you think you are, Your Highness.”

“Yes, well,” scoffed Dimitri, rising to his feet, “By the way you look at Mercedes, it seems I’m not the only one who … appreciates a full figured older woman.”

Instead of appearing embarrassed, Dedue simply stood, gave the prince a smirk, and grabbed the rest of the wood from his arms. “That may be so, but at least I’m not afraid to admit my attraction. Much like our Professor, Mercedes is kind, curious, and doesn’t have a bigoted bone in her body. And if I’m lucky, she’ll like me enough to let me see the rest of said body one day.”

That comment made Dimitri laugh with a mirth he had not felt in some time. It was good, to talk to his best friend like this, man to man. And unlike Sylvain, Dedue could talk about girls respectfully, even if they were talking about their bodies and looks.

“Is that what you want?”

“What do you mean?” asked Dimitri, following Dedue out of the classroom, watching for any wood slivers on the floor that they may have missed. It had begun to rain, only spitting now, the clouds foretelling a heavier rain in the near future.

“To see more of the Professor; to be with her, like I want to be with Mercedes?” Dedue chuckled as Dimitri blushed. “Even though I had resigned myself to a life without a woman to love, being hated just for my ethnicity, Mercedes makes me feel like love is still possible. The Professor could be like that for you, you know. You told me she’s already embraced you; told you that you can trust her. You and I both know how hard that is for you.”

As they walked towards the trash heaps on the other side of the dining hall, Dimitri’s eyes lingered on the Professor’s dormitory door. “What do you know of love? Have you even kissed Mercedes yet?”

“All in due time, my Prince,” chuckled Dedue. “It is more important that I open my heart to the possibility than to actually act on feelings right now. Love is a fragile thing: even a chance at love is enough to make one’s heart thaw.”

Seeing where the prince was looking, Dedue nudged him. “Go on, ask her to heal your face. Talk to her about why you’re upset. No point in waiting. You and I both know that tomorrow is never a sure thing.”

Dimitri gave his stalwart friend a small smile. “When did you get so wise?”

Dedue shrugged and continued to walk to the trash heap. “You will just have to go find some wisdom for yourself, my friend.” As he said his final word, he disappeared behind a stone wall.

Walking up to the Professor’s door, Dimitri was annoyed with the rain falling more heavily and being caught without an umbrella. Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, he knocked on the door. It was daytime, but the clouds were making the sky dark, and no candles were lit within.

Grumbling when no reply came after about a minute, Dimitri turned away, irritated with himself for hoping she was there. Before he could leave her covered doorway, he heard a feminine voice say his name in surprise: “Dimitri! What are you doing here?” His beautiful professor was standing before him, down the steps from her own room, cloak soaked with rain, holding the ghastly Sword of the Creator in her hand.

“Professor! I, um,” he exclaimed, not sure what to say. What Dedue had told him, about opening up his heart, had made him second guess how he should speak to the Professor. “I’ve, um, hurt my face. I was hoping you could help?” There, that was a bit simplistic, but it should work for now.

“Of course!” she said, stepping past him to insert her key into her door. Being this close to her made his blood run faster. Once the door was open, she invited him inside, “Come on in, let’s get out of this rain.”

“Ah, yes, it comes on pretty fast this time of year,” he replied, inanely. Was he being too chatty? Was it obvious he was nervous? If it were, the Professor didn’t seem to mind, or even notice.

“Probably why it’s called the ‘Verdant Rain Moon’,” quipped the Professor as she entered the room. She leaned the Sword of the Creator against the wall near her desk. Pulling off her sopping wet cloak, she hung it on the hook on the back of her door. Dimitri couldn’t help but stare at how her indigo hair trailed in wet strands down her naked shoulders. Feeling the blood run to his face, and to another altogether unfortunate part of his body, he turned away and stared at the ceiling.

“So, what’s the matter?” she asked, turning to look at him. “You said you had hurt your face? Like, during the battle? Or in the time since I last saw you?”

Embarrassed by his past actions, Dimitri admitted, “I, um … I lost my temper with a chair.” He pointed at his left cheek, just above his jaw. “I had a large splinter here. I got it out, but I’m concerned there may be more. Do you mind looking at it?”

Byleth smirked and directed him to sit at her desk chair. “And just how did you lose a fight with a chair, Your Highness?” It stung when she called him by his formal title. He just wanted her to call him by his name, his body tingling every time she did so.

“What Rhea did … sending those men off to execution … it made me so angry that I saw red.” Shamed by his propensity to lose his composure, he looked down at the floor. Feeling her gentle hands on either side of his jaw, he let them pull his head upward. At this new angle he was now staring directly into her eyes.

“I agree, Dimitri,” said Byleth, quietly, “But, this is her church, her monastery, and her officer’s academy. We must follow her rules if we wish to remain.” Turning his head gently to the right so she could look at his new wound, she continued, “Besides, you know those men were in the wrong. They sought to steal the body of the Goddess, and were willing to kill to do so. Don’t you remember what I told you before?”

“Kill, or be killed,” muttered Dimitri, his eyes shut as she examined his face. He shivered when she began to use white magic. Every time white magic was used on him he felt as though the magic were pulling muscles and skin into place, whether or not they wanted to be pulled. He had twisted ankles that were less uncomfortable than some white magic administrations.

“That’s right,” she cooed, dropping her hands from his face. “I know, it’s a hard lesson to learn. One of the hardest for me, actually. But I, and my father, and most of his men, are still here because of it.” Bringing her right hand up to his jaw, she caressed the skin she had just healed, seemingly inspecting her work. “There,” she said, “How does that feel? I didn’t find any more splinters, so I just healed the one wound.”

Dimitri brought his left hand up to cover Byleth’s on his cheek. Looking into her eyes, he found them to be both deep and full of emotion; sapphires embedded into the stone that was her emotionless face. Her face could have been carved from marble: it was the perfect image of cold beauty.

Feeling the blood coursing through his veins in anticipation, he closed his eyes, leaned forward, and kissed her perfect lips. Part of him was surprised her lips were not hard stone, but sweet, soft flesh, parting for him invitingly. Another part flushed with heat as he pressed his body into hers, eager for more.

Suddenly, those impeccable lips were no longer on his. Cold air whooshed past his wet lips as she turned abruptly from him. His blood ran even colder at her evident rejection.

Byleth walked to the door and opened it. “I think you should go, Your Highness,” she said, her voice back to its standard impassive cadence. Trying to gauge what she was thinking based on her face was impossible, so he merely followed her orders.

“Byleth,” he began, standing just outside her door. “I’m sorry if —”

“No, don’t — don’t worry about it, I’m just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Giving a smile that he was pretty sure was fake, she closed the door gently. The click of the lock was audible to him from the other side.

Glaring at the door, Dimitri allowed the rain to fall on his shoulders. Part of him relished the cold water on his overheated scalp, cooling down his rush of blood, and with it, his burgeoning emotions. Was he embarrassed? Was he mad?

Was she?

Shaking his head, he sprinted towards the training grounds. In this weather, it would be a muddy mess, but he needed to work out his feelings. Thankfully, no one else was there. He was free to release his rage and sadness.

“Goddess! What the fuck is wrong with me!” he screamed into the storm above his head. Ignoring the fact that he was still wearing a metal gauntlet, he punched one of the stone columns of the training grounds. With a great CLANG that he felt resonate throughout his entire body, he cried out. Like the idiot he was, he had punched the column with his right hand, his dominant hand, and the metal was less than stellar at absorbing the impact. Dimitri felt immediate, burning pain in his right wrist, having punched the column at an awkward angle. He had likely snapped something in the delicate structures of his forearm.

Collapsing into the sandy mud, he wept. Frustrated at himself and sorry for potentially upsetting the Professor, Dimitri just lay there in a crumpled heap. He allowed the rain fall on him and soak him through. At least it would help cool him down, he thought in his dejection.

After about an hour of cold, wet loneliness, Dimitri decided to get up. His uniform and cloak utterly sopping wet and muddy, his wrist still throbbing within its metal cage, he trudged back to his dorm room. At this moment he hated that the Professor’s own room was so close to the stairs he had to take to get up to the second level where he and the other nobles resided.

Not wanting to disturb any of the other students, especially not the nosy and girl-obsessed Sylvain who resided next door, Dimitri did his best to silently unlock and open his own door. His stupidly injured right hand was next to useless, so he fumbled with his keys in his left. He finally managed to open his door after several attempts.

Too embarrassed to seek healing from Professor Manuela or Mercedes, the Prince gingerly pulled off his gauntlet. He winced as the pain fluctuated with each movement. Gritting his teeth, he pulled off his soaked clothes, ripping some of the buttons he missed with his non-dominant hand. Too tired to care, he stripped all the way down, throwing the wet clothes in a heap by the door, and slid under the covers. Despite his best efforts to sleep, the pain in his wrist and the regret over kissing his professor kept him fitfully awake throughout the night.

Chapter 24: Byleth - Dormitory

Summary:

Byleth considers the kiss between her and Dimitri.

Notes:

I rewrote this chapter to add a conversation between Byleth and Sothis.

Byleth shut the door gently once Dimitri had stepped down her steps. No, not just Dimitri, the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. And her student.

Staring at the door, Byleth trembled as her pulse throbbed hotly throughout her body. She had never been kissed before, and was therefore unready with the effect it had on her. While the Prince’s surprisingly soft lips were on hers she had felt the heat rising in her core. And between her legs.

The feeling deeply terrified her.

The young swords woman knew what happened between boys and girls behind closed doors, and she wasn’t ready for that. She had avoided being alone with any man who showed any interest in her because she was not ready. Byleth had seen what had happened to young woman who had been used and left with child and she was damned determined not to end up like that.

Part of her wasn’t sure whether the Prince was ready to go further either, but as his kiss grew deeper and more eager, she could feel the not unpleasant press of his body against hers. How his strong, tightly muscled frame felt wrapped around hers. The young man was beautiful, gallant, strong, handsome; everything one would want from a fairy tale prince.

But Dimitri was young; younger than her in fact, and she was barely an adult herself. And, he was her student: under her care and tutelage.

It was wrong, wasn’t it? To kiss your student?

But, Byleth had not kissed him: it was Dimitri who had leaned in and pressed is lips to hers first. And she had deeply enjoyed it. Byleth still felt the buzz from his lips on hers and the tingle the act had wrought up her spine.

It was the most perfect, ideal kiss for her very first kiss ever with a man. Or was he just a boy still? The conflicting thoughts and emotions riled in her head, making her dizzy.

“I am here to talk, if you want,” came the soft voice of her ever present companion.

“Was it wrong?” Byleth asked, still staring at the door. “Was I wrong, to have kissed him. To kiss him back, I mean?”

To her mild surprise, Sothis blinked into existence to her right, floating in the air in the space between her bed and the wall. “No, I don’t think so. He kissed you, you accepted. That is the way of things between mortals.” Tilting her head, Sothis asked, “You are worried that he is too young, and your student?”

Looking to Sothis, she simply nodded.

Shrugging, the little spirit said, “He is not so young, nearly 18. And you’ve only been his teacher for a few months. Besides,” she added with a grin, “He is a Prince, nearly a King! If he can make decisions about an entire nation, he make a decision about whom to kiss. And if that decision is to kiss you, and you accept, then why is that wrong?”

“I don’t know,” mused Byleth, turning away. “I’m just uncomfortable with what comes next.”

“Then take it slow my dear,” hummed Sothis. “You’re still dripping by the way, better get those wet clothes off,” she giggled, before blinking out of existence.

Grumbling about the sorry state of her battle attire, and the puddle she had created, Byleth threw her soaking wet coat into the corner Sothis once floated in. Kicking off her boots, she unbuckled her armor and undid her bodice. Annoyed with how sticky the rain had made her lace tights, Byleth was determined to find better clothing for this wet weather.

Standing naked in her dormitory room, Byleth considered what she should do next. Normally, she would immediately head towards the baths, but she didn’t want to run into the Prince again.

Taking the bath robe she left hanging on a hook against the back of her door, she slipped it over her shoulders and tied the sash around her waist. Finding another towel she dried what rainwater she could from her hair before leaving the rest to air dry.

Sitting down at her desk, Byleth grabbed the little leather folio she kept her diary pages in. She was eager to impart all that had happened in her journal. Cutting a new quill, Byleth began to write essentially what was the conversation she just had with Sothis. She would go wash away the dirt and emotions of the day after she could release her teeming thoughts onto the page.

Chapter 25: Seteth - Audience Chamber

Summary:

Seteth realizes he feels protective over Byleth.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Seteth was still reeling from having to tell the Blue Lions about their next mission: to find the bandits, lead by Miklan Gautier, who had been destroying villages near Conand Tower. The poor boy, Sylvain, was beside himself at the prospect of hunting down his older brother. Seteth couldn’t imagine hurting one of his own brothers, though, he couldn’t imagine either of them betraying him so fully as Sylvain’s brother had betrayed him. He was remiss to admit that his heart ached for the boy, even while he was often disgusted by his womanizing ways.

During the meeting with the Blue Lions yesterday, Seteth had also noticed how strangely Prince Dimitri had been acting. The Prince, usually front and center as the leader of his house, stood at the rear, as far away from the Professor as he could. The young man’s eyes had dark circles beneath them, and he held his right hand awkwardly.

Something was clearly off with the young man. Seteth wondered why Byleth hadn’t addressed the Prince’s clear distress. She seemed to ignore him completely this morning, focusing all of her attention on him and Rhea, standing uncharacteristically at full military attention. He would have to address the poor state of the Prince with her at some point. As his Professor, it was her job to make sure he was hale and battle ready.

The Blue Lions’ spirits had all risen when Lord Rodrigue, Felix’s father and Dimitri’s foster father, had arrived. His pleasant and boisterous demeanor had immediately captured the attention of the youngsters, and Seteth was glad for it. Though, Felix seemed to disappear once his father’s attention was on the other youths.

As he was finishing his talk with Rhea in her personal office, he was pleased to see Byleth approach them both. Seteth did not want to have to wander around the monastery looking for her. Though, he realized, he could have just sent word he needed to speak with her, and she would come running. She was wont to do that for him.

“Ah, Miss Eisner,” began Seteth, greeting the young woman. “I was just hoping to speak with you.”

“Good day Seteth,” she nodded to him, pulling something from her pocket. Seteth was somewhat surprised to see it was another near perfect owl feather. Expecting it to be handed to him, he was momentarily taken aback when she gave it to Rhea instead. “I remember you saying how you loved owls, Lady Rhea. I saw this as I was on my morning walk and thought of you.”

“Oh my,” said the Archbishop, taking the feather graciously. “Many thanks, Professor. That was kind of you to think of me.”

Grinning slightly, Byleth nodded her head to the lady. Turning to Seteth she said, falling into her disjointed way of speaking when she was unsure of herself, “So, um, what as it you wanted to talk about?” Despite the logical part of his brain wanting to be annoyed by her lack of poise, Seteth found himself charmed by this peculiarity of hers.

“Walk with me to my office,” he said, directing her towards the hallway with his open hand.

“Bye,” she said nonchalantly to Rhea, as she followed him down the hall.

As they entered his office, he began, “Miss Eisner, it appears to me that the Crown Prince of Faerghus seems to be … under the weather. Have you noticed anything different with him”

Under his watchful gaze, Byleth’s skin flushed pink in seconds, the blood rising all the way to her ears. That’s an odd reaction, he thought. Expecting that this conversation was likely to turn to delicate matters, Seteth closed the door to his office behind him.

“So it seems you did notice.” Sitting in his chair, he motioned gently for her to sit across from him. He was pleased to see her do so without much preamble. “May I ask why you did not take him to the infirmary. Or, better yet, heal him yourself? You have an aptitude for white magic, do you not?”

“Um,” she began, sweat beading at her brow. “I ah … um …”

By the Goddess, Seteth wished he could just snap at her to spit it out. But after decades of working as a school administrator, let alone centuries as a father, he knew that was not the tack to take with nervous young people. In that moment, the stunning, mature-looking woman across from him appeared very young indeed. “Take your time,” he said, softening his tone of voice.

“I just, um …” she said, taking an audible swallow. “I just can’t … don’t want to I mean … be alone with him.”

Upon hearing that admission, a thousand thoughts ran through his mind: Did she hurt the Prince, was that why he was favoring his right hand? Did he do something to her to warrant being hurt? Why was she so nervous, so unwilling to tell him? He knew that Prince Dimitri had a temper when provoked, did that have something to do with it? Was he going to have to remove her as the lead Professor for the Blue Lions? Wasn’t that what he wanted all along? But, if she left, would he see her again? Did he want to see her again?

“I see,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. Crossing his arms, he thought of what to say that would be appropriate. The dragon side of him wanted to protect her, to gather her to him and attack anyone who would do her harm. Before that thought could surprise him, he suppressed it. The human side of him, the logical, administrative side, knew that he could no do that. Whether it was because she was a Professor under his employ, or because she may have been hurt recently, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that in his chest, in his heart, burned an unexpected want to keep her safe.

He decided to pick a more obvious, reliable subject to speak on: “Did you two fight? Is that why he’s holding his hand like that?”

“Not exactly,” she confessed, staring down at her hands. She was gripping her own knuckles hard enough to make them white. Seteth wished he could grab her hand, keep her from potentially hurting herself, but that was inappropriate.

“What would you like to do? It is clear that he needs medical attention. I will have Manuela seek him out after our discussion.” Despite the potentially serious nature of what had just transpired, Seteth had needed to ask her the questions he had been wanting to ask her earlier while he had her in private. Selecting some loose pages from his desk, he took a quill, dipped it in the ink pot on the top right corner of his desk, and scratched “Byleth Eisner, Interview, 5th Day of Verdant Rain Moon, 1180”.

“There is a matter I would like to discuss with you,” he began. “I believe I've told you this before, but it is my responsibility to aid the archbishop in all her duties.”

Still nervous, Byleth didn’t look up as she asked, “Do you mind if I ask what these duties are?”

Grimacing at the prospect that he has frightened her, he decides to take a more genial tone. “Spiritual instruction, ceremony oversight, donation management; all of the church's many administrative tasks. I oversee not only the priesthood, but also the Knights of Seiros and the Officer’s Academy.”

Sighing, he scratched down some notes about her demeanor as he speaks. When he first decided on having this discussion with her, he had not expected her to be somewhat emotional. Usually, she displayed little to no emotion, but whatever had transpired between her and the Prince had rattled her.

Deciding to proceed on with his original questions, he continued. “The Archbishop entrusts a great deal to my discretion, and I am honored by her confidence. Even when she must make decisions herself, she often seeks my counsel in advance. And yet ...”

He paused too look at her, hoping he appeared sincere. Her eyes were still focused on her clenched hands in her lap. “Your appointment to a teaching position at the Officer’s Academy was a complete surprise to me. Not only that, but you have also been entrusted with the Sword of the Creator. Frankly, that decision baffles me.”

“You and me both,” she muttered under her breath, not realizing that Seteth could hear her.

Feeling the need to lighten her mood, Seteth quipped, “Well, at least it appears we can agree on something.” He smirked when he saw the corner of her mouth lift for a moment.

“Initially, I believed you should be fully investigated, and part of me still does, before being trusted with a responsibility as great as the Sword of the Creator. I know you are skilled in the sword, as well as white magic, and many other matters of war, but beyond that I know next to nothing about you.”

He waited for her to lift her head to meet his gaze. When she did, her eyes were unexpectedly dry, her indigo irises dark almost as dark as her pupils. “I could say the same thing about you,” she whispered. Taken aback at her insubordination, Seteth could only grin, whereas he would usually scowl with anyone else.

“You don’t trust me,” she accused, hurling the words at him like punches.

Disappointed at this turn in the conversation, Seteth conceded, “That is indeed what it comes down to, if I'm being honest.”

Noting how her gaze dropped again, he sighed. “Please understand that I mean no offense. Not only that, but you have also been entrusted with the Sword of the Creator. I was as surprised as anyone else to learn that.”

Scratching his head, wishing he could take the damned circlet off, he admitted, “Frankly, I am just not sure how to handle you.” The word “handle” caused a small flush to rise along his jaw. Dammit, Seteth, get your mind out of the gutter.

Composing himself, he said, “I am the archbishop's right hand, and yet when it comes to you, I have been told almost nothing.”

Shrugging, he lifted his quill to the paper, and said, “And now … well, I will spare you my conjecture. In any case, it is time I learned more about you. I ask only that you answer my questions honestly. I will be most grateful for your cooperation.

“First, I would like to know just how much you know about yourself. You are the child of Jeralt Eisner, correct?”

Byleth crossed her arms and quipped sarcastically, “That's what I hear.”

Smirking, he said, his own tone sarcastic, “That's quite a vague reply for such a basic question. In the future, I would advise you to answer such queries with confidence.

“As the former captain of the Knights of Seiros, Jeralt is renowned throughout Fódlan. If you really are his child, then no one would voice any complaint about you joining the knights. How long has it been since you became a mercenary?”

Clearly not wanting to play his game, she said, “About ten years.”

Unexpectedly enjoying her previously uncharacteristic rude and sarcastic answers, Seteth replied in kind, “Given your youth, that hardly seems likely.”

“I’m REALLY good with a sword,” she retorted, “How do you think I learned to be this good?”

“Is that so?” scoffed Seteth. “Come to think of it, I have never asked your age. Just how old are you, exactly?”

“Younger than you,” she replied with a smirk. Well, that was true, she was most definitely younger than him. The only other person at Garreg Mach who was not younger than him was Rhea. Though, Byleth would not know that, obviously.

However, Seteth noticed a string of uncertainty mar her marble-like features. “Your face says it all. You truly don't know, do you? Just what was Jeralt thinking raising you this way?”

Shaking his head, Seteth stood. “Given your responses thus far, I feel as though any further questions would just be a waste of our time.” Byleth also rose from her chair as he walked around his desk to meet her near the door.

Adjusting his tone to sound serious but not cruel, he declared, “However, permit me to make one thing clear: whatever her reasons, the Archbishop has placed great faith in you. Do not betray that trust.”

As per usual, he could not read her face as she replied, “Of course not, Seteth,” barely above a whisper.

Walking her to the door, he remembered what Jeralt had asked him to tell her earlier. The captain had found him early that morning, the only other person working with the rising dawn, to ask of him a boon. “One more thing, Miss Eisner, your father has requested you meet him at the cemetery. Do you know your way?”

“Yes,” she nodded, as she left his office, not giving him a second look. Watching her go, Seteth felt as though their discussion had gone poorly. He had only wanted to learn more about her, but in reality, may have only succeed in pushing her away.

Despite Rhea's trust in her, he still could not be certain of her true intentions. His growing attraction for her was unsettling. After having lived a life of monk-like celibacy for nearly a millennium, he wasn’t sure how to approach this enticing and enigmatic young woman.

Chapter 26: Byleth - Cemetery

Summary:

Byleth and Jeralt talk about her mother.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Content warning: discussions of death.

The sun shone high in the sky, burning away the rain clouds that had been assailing Garreg Mach for the last few days. Shielding her eyes with her hand, Byleth looked for the way to the cemetery. She had never been there before, but she knew it was near the Knight’s Hall.

Finding the steps down to the graveyard, she looked below. Before a simple gravestone that looked like all the others stood her father. His tall frame was bent over, his head bowed. He held a small bouquet of lilies in his hands.

“Dad?” asked Byleth softly, not wanting to startle him as she walked up behind him.

“Hey,” he said, turning his head to her. His usually jovial face was atypically somber despite his attempt at a smile. “I wanted to ask you to come with me, to come here, but I couldn’t find you.” Heaving a heavy sigh, he continued, “I was thinking that we should visit … your mother.”

Gesturing with the flowers to the grave in front of him, he explained, “She is resting beneath this humble grave.”

Somewhat confused, Byleth asked, “But, why is here grave here?” Byleth had been told her whole life that her mother had died somewhere on the road, on one of Jeralt’s many mercenary campaigns.

“Hmm?” hummed Jeralt, his eyes on the grave, “I guess you would ask that. Well, I don’t know where to begin.” In a low mumble, he added, “I suppose I haven’t talked much about her.”

Feeling curious, but also not wanting to interrupt her father, Byleth just stood by his side. She wanted to take his hand, or embrace him, but she also knew her father was particularly reticent to talk of her mother, and didn’t want to disrupt his revelations. This was the most he’s spoken of her mother since she was a small child.

“She was gentle and smart … so smart.” Her father surprised her by catching a hitch in his breath in the middle of his thought. Is he crying? Unsure of how to comfort her father, she let herself hold his empty hand. His much larger hand dwarfed hers as he squeezed, trying to contain his tears.

“She was always kind to everyone. And …” he held up the flowers, more to the grave than for her benefit, “She loved flowers.” On the word ‘flowers’, Jeralt’s resolve broke and his tears flowed freely. “Whenever I brought her back some strange flower from whatever trip I was on,” he sobbed, “Her face would light up. I cherish those memories. I can’t remember how many times she made me happy just with her smile.”

“Oh, Dad,” spoke Byleth, emotion welling in her chest. Gripping his hand tighter, she held onto his arm as well. She felt as though she were holding her father up as the weight of his emotions bore him down.

Through the tears, he turned to embrace her, crushing the flowers as he held her tight. Into her hair he whispered, “And she smiled the most … when you were growing inside her belly.”

Holding his daughter’s face in his hands, his gaze met hers. Byleth felt as though she wanted to cry with her father, especially with how wet his eyes were, but the tears just would not come. They never came to her. “She wanted to meet you so badly, By. She would be so proud of the woman you have become.”

Returning her to his crushing embrace, he continued in a low voice, “She died right after you were born. Sitri wasn’t … able to spend much time with you.”

Sitri. So that’s what her mother’s name was. Why hadn’t she known that before? Why hadn’t she thought to ask before?

As a child, she was just “Mama”, and even then was just a dream. Her “imaginary friend” in her head, who turned out to be a very sleepy Goddess, was more real than the idea of “Mama” ever was. She had seen other children with their mothers and felt emptiness where she thought she should feel jealousy. Byleth had never thought of needing a mother because she always had her father. Other children had mothers and no fathers, so she didn’t think it was all that strange. Plenty of children had neither.

“But she loved you with all of her heart,” said her father, his sobs easing. “That’s the truest thing I know.” Holding her at arms length again, he spoke fiercely, “Never forget that.”

Byleth nodded, overwhelmed by her usually taciturn father’s emotions. Fumbling with his pockets, Jeralt produced a small silk pouch and handed it to Byleth. Opening the delicate ties, she upturned it into her hand. A small silver ring tumbled out. It was surprisingly ornate, eight roughly marquise cut amethysts set around a ninth amethyst cut in a square “A ring?”

Jeralt nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes and cheeks. “This ring is the only keepsake I have of hers,” he said, taking the ring and pouch back from Byleth. Placing the precious item back in its silk pouch, he added, “In time it will be yours.”

Looking at her face with hope in his eyes, he said, “One day, I hope you will give this ring to someone you love. As much as I love … loved her.”

Someone I love? Flashes of a blonde-haired prince dance through her mind, her lips tingling with the memory of their kiss. Suddenly, another face emerges: a man with striking green hair and a strong, stern jaw. Conflicting emotions surge within her; the need to prove herself battles with the comforting warmth that his presence brings. Feeling slightly foolish, Byleth shakes her head, trying to clear her muddled thoughts.

“You still love her, Dad,” said Byleth, giving him what she hoped was a loving smile. Taking the crushed lilies from his hand, she walked over to the grave. Kneeling down, she placed the lilied gently on the old gravesite. “Here you go, Mama. I’m sorry they’re a bit smooshed.”

***

Leaving her father to grieve for her long lost mother in peace, Byleth walked towards the greenhouse. She yearned for its quiet serenity, but was also curious to see the flowers there. Thankfully, no one stopped her on her route; she was not ready to speak to anyone else yet.

Opening the doors to Garreg Mach’s greenhouse, Byleth was met with a sudden wave of humidity. Even during the month of the Verdant Rain Moon, the greenhouse was kept damp for the benefits of the plants. She sighed in relief when it appeared like no one else was inside.

Closing the door, she looked around the planters. The greenhouse was cordoned off into sections based on the humidity and temperature levels that the plants needed. At the entrance on this side, it was warmer and more humid than outside generally was. This is where most of the vegetables were grown. The flowers were grown in the middle, and the arid plants were grown to the furthest end, where fans kept the air flowing and special fire spells kept the area warm.

Looking across the greenhouse, she noticed a shadow and groaned. Byleth was apparently not alone. Firming her resolve to literally “slow down and smell the roses” as her father would say, she walked to the center where said roses were. Unfortunately, the shadow noticed and came to greet her.

“Greetings, Professor,” began Dedue as he walked towards her. “What brings you here today?”

“Just here to look at the flowers,” said Byleth, feeling like she should grin, but chose not too because her emotions felt too spent.

“I see,” he said, handing her a small, tin watering can. “If you have the time, then I would appreciate it if you helped me water them. The flowers, I mean.”

"Sure," she acquiesced, taking it from him. The watering can was deceptively heavy despite its small size when full.

“Just be sure not to water the ones in the back corner.”

“Oh?” she asked, looking to the flowers he mentioned. “Why not?”

“They are from Duscur,” said Dedue, taking his own watering can and watering the tulips in front of him. “They require a dry environment, otherwise their roots will rot.”

“They sound hard to take care of,” hummed Byleth, pouring a spray of water on the rose bush.

Dedue smirked. “That is what makes them worthwhile.”

A heavy silence hung between them as they watered the rest of the flowers. Byleth had been avoiding Prince Dimitri, and therefore Dedue as well, for the last few days. She had noticed the Prince holding his hand in pain, and why had no idea why. But, due to not wanting to talk to him, she didn’t offer to look at it. Even though every time before that I had helped him with an injury, she thought lamely.

“So,” she asked, her heart in her throat, “How is His Highness doing?”

“His Highness,” began Dedue, a flicker of annoyance in his voice, “Is doing fine. Manuela found is in the classroom while you were out and demanded he accompany her to the infirmary. Apparently he hurt his hand; not that it would take a genius to figure that out with he way he was favoring it, the fool.”

“You noticed and didn’t make him get healed!?” asked Byleth, incredulously. “Why not!?”

Dedue shrugged. “He didn’t want me to. Plus, I had only noticed it for a day, and usually the Prince knows when he’s wounded enough to go to the healers. Apparently he didn’t this time.” Dedue smirked and gave Byleth a sidelong glance. “The hand injury happened right after I sent him your way for the slivers in his face.”

Despite feeling her blood rise to her ears, Byleth didn’t move. Gripping her watering can so tight that the tin handle bit into her palm, she stared at the roses. What did Dimitri tell him?

Chuckling, Dedue gently pulled the watering can from her hand. He turned to replace it on the tools shelf against the wall of the greenhouse, putting some more physical distance between them. “I guess he deserves it for putting his hands on you when you didn’t want him to.”

Shocked, Byleth whipping around to look at the Prince’s tall bodyguard. “That’s not what happened!” she exclaimed, her voice louder than she meant. “All he did was kiss me, nothing else! Nothing bad happened! I don’t know how his hand got hurt!” Her pulse quickening, she looked to Dedue, pleading, “Please don’t tell anyone!”

Dedue shook his head. “No, Professor, I won’t. I make this promise to both you and my Prince. But, can you tell me one thing, if only to ease my worries: did you want him to kiss you?” Seeing her flinch, he added, “I don’t ask this to make you feel uncomfortable, my intentions are quite the opposite. If you do not want the Prince’s … advances, simply tell me now, and I will help him understand.”

As Dedue spoke and her unease grew, Byleth’s hands had grabbed her cloak and, without her truly willing them to, had begun to bunch up and fold the fabric over and back. This was something she had done since she was small when she was upset or stressed. Folding and feeling fabric helped to ground her emotions in something tactile, and was less obvious than her hair. She still found herself playing with her hair from time to time, but did her best to not do so when in public.

Unsure of what to say, Byleth simply chose the safe option. “Actually, um, could you … could you ask Dimitri to not, well …”

“Say no more,” said Dedue softly. “I will ask the Prince to regard you as his Professor, nothing more.”

“T-thank you, Dedue,” said Byleth, nodding her head, and turning to the door.

Leaving the tall young man in the Greenhouse, Byleth ran to her room. Her pulse was pounding in her neck, and a sweat had begun to bead on her brow. She wasn’t sure what Dedue was going to say or do, but the outcome was rather benign, if not good. Part of her was prepared for Dedue to pummel her for hurting his Prince, even though his hurt hand was not her fault.

But his broken heart was.

Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself as she sat down at her desk. Searching for her journal and a good quill to write with, she heaved a sign as she settled in. It was one kiss, he can’t be that upset over one kiss, right? Yet, deep in her chest, Byleth felt the ache of letting go of all the possibilities that one kiss had promised.

Chapter 27: Seteth - Training Grounds

Summary:

Seteth and Byleth have a fun sparring match.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Seteth stepped out from his apartments on the third floor of the main building at Garreg Mach. He managed to complete his paperwork earlier than expected the night before and took to bed earlier as a result. Seteth was usually up early, but today he rose even before the dawn, excited to see that the rain clouds had broken for the moment.

Seteth was wearing his training clothes: the gambeson that he usually wore beneath his wyvern armor and loose trousers. Beneath the he wore a simple long sleeved undershirt, tied at the neck with a plain cravat to keep the collar tight. Instead of the aristocratic black boots he polished to a shine at least once a week, he wore his beat up old training boots. Both were made of good leather and had fitted well to his feet, so despite their disparate appearances, they both fit comfortably. As always when he went out in public, he wore his golden circlet.

Leaving Flayn to sleep in until her normal time, he walked brusquely down to the dining hall. The cooks and bakers were preparing their daily meals, and the baking bread smelled amazing. I should get up this early every morning, he thought, relishing the smells and lack of students bumping about.

Grabbing a cup of tea and a bun to go, he walked over to the training grounds. Even in the warmer months the early blue light of pre-dawn revealed his breath on the air. Seteth didn’t particularly enjoy training in the cold, but waiting for warmer weather would interfere with class times. Besides, he didn’t need students gawking at his advanced skills.

Upon reaching the training grounds, Seteth was surprised to see one of the heavy wooden doors ajar. From beyond the door, within the grounds, he could hear the voice of a young woman grunting as she trained. Smiling, Seteth felt pride in knowing one of the students this year was so keen on training.

Entering the training ground, he was somewhat taken aback that the young woman training by herself was actually Byleth, the new professor. On the surface, Seteth wanted to be irritated that she was here instead of an eager student; yet, deep within, his heart fluttered to see her working so hard. She was working with a lance, unexpectedly fumbling with the standard training polearm, catching him off guard. Much like him, she wore a basic tunic and hose for training, as well as a sweater for the chill of the morning air.

Still holding his breakfast, he called out to her in a jovial tone, “Where is the Sword of the Creator Miss Eisner? I trust you haven’t just left it lying somewhere.”

“It’s in my room, of course,” she grumbled, struggling with the length of the polearm as she practiced making thrusts.

Placing his mug full of tea on a nearby bench, Seteth stuffed the rest of the bun in his mouth and approached the young professor. “No, no,” he began, bun still in his mouth, muffling his words. Finally noticing him, she stopped, looking his way. Taking a moment to finish chewing and swallow, he walked forward and motioned for her to give him her lance. “The point of polearms is that you have reach compared to a sword. You need to make longer stances.”

Taking the polearm, he demonstrated a simple lunge and thrust. At the end of the thrust, his lead hand fluidly left the shaft of the polearm and swung back like a dance move. His rear hand took over, thrusting the polearm forward as far as it could reach. "Here," he said, handing the polearm to Byleth, "Now, you try."

Watching the young woman practice thrusting the training lance, Seteth took his tea and drained the rest. “There you go,” he said in encouragement as she executed a decent lunge and thrust. “It’s very similar to fighting with a rapier: throwing your lead hand behind you to add momentum.”

Breathing quickly, a smile on her face, Byleth approached him, holding her polearm. “Thanks,” she said, beaming. “I was having trouble with that one.”

“I’m surprised to hear that,” said Seteth, searching the grounds for another practice polearm. They had rearranged the layout of the weapons racks since the last time he was there and he felt lost for a moment. Finally finding the appropriate practice weapon, he turned to Byleth and said, “I though you said you’ve been fighting for about a decade?”

“I told you I was really good with a sword,” smirked the young woman, holding up the polearm she held. “This is not a sword.”

“No,” chuckled Seteth. “It is not.” Feeling playful due to his jubilation with this beautiful morning, he took the polearm in his hands and twisted it to knock the one Byleth held out of her hands and onto the ground. “But even without a sword, I expect an expert in any of the martial arts to be quicker than that, Miss Eisner.”

“Hey!” she complained, watching the polearm roll towards him. She reached for it, but didn’t move any further, watching the his polearm, expecting him to hit her with it again. Clever girl, he thought with a smirk, holding his own polearm in lightly, watching her back.

“Let’s see if you’re fast enough to get your polearm back,” he challenged, standing loosely in his defensive form, an impish smile on his face. “If you can, I’ll give you a lesson.”

Returning his smile, she said, “I hear you’re the best with polearms in the entire monastery.” Circling him, watching him for any openings where she could retrieve her fallen lance, she added, “Which, at first, I thought was balderdash, because all old Seteth does is sit at his desk all day.”

Old!? She thinks me old, does she? Well … I am old, but I’m not elderly.

While he was temporarily flustered by her remark, Byleth made a charge for the fallen polearm. What she hadn’t calculated was the speed at which he could bring the butt of the polearm across himself in front of her, causing her to run right into it. Coughing, she doubled over for a moment, giving Seteth a momentary fright.

However, she seemed to have outwitted him again, grabbing his polearm and attempting to yank it from his hands. His superhuman abilities coming to his aid once again, Seteth held onto his lance too tightly for her to do anything but nudge it. At this moment, they appeared to be in a stalemate, both holding onto his lance. A grin cracked is face as he watched the young woman at the other end of his polearm, mesmerized by her ocean eyes.

Just as he was about to end their match and declare himself the winner, she dropped down and kicked the polearm on the ground away from his reach. Still off kilter by the previous intensity of her gaze, Seteth was half a heartbeat too slow to catch her as she bolted away to grab the lance from the ground. With blazing speed she whirled around to point the training lance back at him.

“Ha!” she declared, exuberantly. “I got it back! Now you’ve got to give me a private lesson!”

Gladly, he thought as he bowed his head to her. “I concede, Miss Eisner. I had come here to train myself, but instead it seems I have found a worthy student. Now, where should we begin?”

Chapter 28: Byleth - Student Baths

Summary:

Byleth and Flayn have a private discussion.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Feeling exhilarated after her early morning impromptu training session with the surprisingly athletic church leader, Byleth practically danced her way to the baths. In this early hour no other students were there, so she could spend time enjoying the warm water in the main pool in solitude.

Partially floating in the shallow bath, Byleth considered how different Seteth appeared today. He had been smiling so much, and his smile had been infectious. Byleth’s cheeks still ached with how fun she had had while he taught her. While he was usually so dour and serious, he had seemed like and almost completely different person.

As she was floating, she startled when she heard a soft splash come from across the pool. Lifting her head and submerging her naked body, she noticed with some suprise that it was Flayn. “Oh, Flayn, good morning,” she greeted the young woman with the mint colored hair.

“Good morning Professor,” returned Flayn, a bright smile on her face. Unlike Byleth, she was not completely nude, a bathrobe wrapped around her body. Trying not to appear like she was staring, Byleth noted how Flayn’s body was much more curved than it appeared when clothed. When she had first met Seteth’s younger sister she had thought her to be barely older than a girl. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“I’m a little surprised to see you here,” said Byleth, only her head above water. Once she was sure the girl was fully submerged, Byleth turned to look at her. Flayn had kept the bathrobe on, her beautiful mint green curls floating on the water about her. “I thought you had access to the staff baths?”

“I do, but they’re much smaller,” she said, floating her hands on the water. “And the water in the women’s side is broken right now. Manuela mentioned that the students never bathe in the morning, so I thought it would be a good time to come.” Looking to Byleth, she grinned and said, “Looks like you had the same idea.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Byleth, not sure what else to say. As the uneasy silence hung over their heads, she wracked her mind with something else to speak about. Should she talk about how strange the girl’s older brother was when wielding a lance? Maybe she already knew? He must just really like fighting with polearms, like I do with a sword. By the Goddess, sometimes he looked like he was dancing …

Realizing that said dancer’s little sister was sitting across from her, nude no less, in the same bathing pool, Byleth’s blood rose to her ears. No, I can’t tell her any of that, it wouldn’t be appropriate.

Before Byleth’s nerves could get the better of her, Flayn spoke up: “I’ve been wanting to talk with you, Professor.”

“Oh?” replied Byleth, grateful for the end to the silence.

“I’m curious about you,” she continued, “You have an air of mystery about you. I am … intrigued.”

Byleth snorted, causing small bubbles to form in the bathwater in front of her. “No I’m not, I’m just another mercenary.”

“No, it’s more than that,” mused Flayn. “You remind me of the sea.”

“The sea?” questioned Byleth. Why, because I have blue eyes?

Not answering her question, Flayn said cynically, “My brother, however, refers to you as an, and I quote, ‘youth of dubious origin’.”

Byleth’s eyes grow wide at the mention of Seteth. “Oh, does he?”

Before Byleth could say any more, Flayn asks, “May I ask, Professor: how old are you?”

Not this again, thought Byleth, sighing. “I don’t know, 20, maybe 22? I know I’m at least older than my students.”

“You don’t sound very sure, Professor. Could you be younger than your students, perhaps? Would that matter?”

Feeling uncomfortable, Byleth retorted, “Well, how old are you then,” focusing on her face and trying not to look to her very clearly womanly body beneath the water.

Noticing Byleth’s darting eyes, Flayn gathered the bathrobe to herself and moved her arms to cover her breasts. “I am … roughly the same age as the other youths here.”

“Then why aren’t you in the Academy … with the other youths here,” returned Byleth, more harshly than she intended.

A look of sadness appeared on her face for a moment, then receded. “Because, my brother won’t allow it.” Holding the sopping wet bathrobe close to her body for modesty, Flayn turned to climb up the stairs on her side of the pool.

“No, I’m sorry Flayn,” began Byleth, standing to her full height. The water of the pool was so shallow that when she was standing it only came to her knees. “You can stay, I needed to get out anyways.”

Turning to face her, Flayn gave Byleth her characteristic girlish smile. “No, it’s alright Professor, I should be getting out anyways. I don’t need a full bath, and the students should be waking soon.”

“Um, okay,” said Byleth as she watched the green haired girl entering one of the change rooms along the wall. Standing with most of her naked body exposed, Byleth shivered as an errant breeze crossed her skin. Her mood thoroughly soured, she did not want to return to the bath, instead opting to get dressed and get on with her day.

Chapter 29: Seteth - Staff Baths

Summary:

Seteth does some thinking while taking a bath.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Seteth relished the hot water as he sat in the small bathing pool for male staff members. Despite his unnatural age and healing abilities, he still felt the aches that came with a good exercise. Feeling sympathetic in his own hot bath, he decided to expedite the repairs to the female staff bathhouse on the other side of the monastery campus. Thankfully it was still late summer and hot water wasn’t yet a necessity.

The same water source that fed the women’s baths also supplied Rhea’s private baths, where he and Flayn typically bathed. He usually avoided the men’s baths, unwilling to reveal the tattoos covering most of his body. However, he felt the early hour would deter most staff, and besides, he wanted the hot water.

During his nearly twenty years working as an administrator at Garreg Mach, a few of the male staff had seen his tattoos during bathing sessions. However, they had been polite enough to honor his request not to disclose this information to anyone. Everyone at Garreg Mach had lived a life before they came here, and most were content to leave that life in the past. Furthermore, no one would likely believe that the prim and proper Seteth had a body covered in turquoise and blue ink.

This morning’s exercise had been quite enjoyable. Usually, he did not enjoy training with others, but the new Professor had proved herself a worthy partner. She had also proved to be a quick study, even picking up some of the more advanced polearm moves by the end of their lesson.

Besides, he found that Byleth was just plain fun to be spar with. She took his jabs and hits with ease, and was happy to return the blows. She wasn’t as serious as the students, who when he was able to teach them only focused on what they needed to do to pass the tests. Byleth had been sparring and training with him for the enjoyment of it, and he found himself still buzzing with the thrill of the experience.

Seteth hadn’t smiled this much in a long time, perhaps even since Flayn had finally awoken, and his cheeks were sore.

Due to his isolation in the early morning, Seteth took the time to shave his face and trim his beard. He still didn’t wash his hair, only deigning to do so at night when he had enough time for it to dry. Seteth kept his hair long to hide his pointed ears, but even long hair would hang too heavy to hide his ears properly when wet.

Once he was bathed and dressed, he headed towards his office. Along the way, he was interrupted by a messenger dressed in the blue and silver of Faerghus. “Lord Seteth,” he began, out of breath by his run, “I’ve been searching for you. Urgent news out of Gautier.” The messenger handed Seteth a letter stamped with the seal of Margrave Gautier.

While the messenger stood there, Seteth broke the seal and read the letter, the contents of which causing him immediate dread. Looking to the messenger, he asked, “Is this all?”

“Yes sir,” nodded the messenger, standing at military attention.

Finding a different messenger from those present in the entrance hall was simple. Seteth folded up the missive and pressed it into his hand. “Go find Professor Eisner of the Blue Lions and tell her to come to be now. It’s urgent. Give her that.”

“Yes sir,” said the church attendant, running in the direction of the classrooms.

The older Gautier son and his bandits stole the Lance of Ruin! he thought, as he quickly climbed the steps up to the chapel and Rhea’s office. He has no crest! If he tries to use the Lance, that could be catastrophic!

Chapter 30: Byleth - Classroom

Summary:

Dimitri speaks with Byleth about their kiss.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

As Byleth walked to her classroom to prepare for the days lessons, negative thoughts whirled about her mind. Goddess be damned, she had done it again. Gone and pushed someone away without meaning too. And right after she was in a good mood from her morning exercise. What would said exercise partner think after that little spat with his sister? With that positive experience with Seteth she thought she had made headway with him, but now, with his little sister mad at her, was that all gone?

Looking to the length of the shadows from the early morning light, Byleth determined she had enough time to grab the journal from her room. Jogging across the field to her dormitories, she passed several students on the way to breakfast at the dining hall. Ignoring their questions, she popped into her room, grabbed her journal, and ran back to her classroom. Much to her chagrin Prince Dimitri and Dedue had arrived early, and were standing at her desk waiting for her.

Upon seeing their Professor enter the room, Dedue nodded his head to her. “His Highness would like to speak with you. I will be standing outside.”

“Keep the door open please,” she asked, her eyes on Dimitri. Her head still reeling with the events of the morning, she let her face fall back to the impassive expression she was most comfortable with. Glancing at his forearm, she asked, “How is your hand, Your Highness?”

Grimacing, he answered, “Fine now. Professor Manuela healed it for me.”

Nodding, Byleth opened a drawer in her desk, placing the journal inside. Sitting down, she looked to Dimitri as he stood. “So, Prince, what was it you wanted to say?”

Closing his eyes tightly, he bowed his head in deference to her. “I am deeply sorry for what occurred on the night we returned to Garreg Mach, Professor Eisner. I was out of line. You were just trying to heal me and I took advantage of the moment.” Emotion dripped off of every word. Tears threatened to erupt next if the Prince hadn’t done his best to put on a stony face that would rival her own.

“Oh Dimitri,” said Byleth, surprised by his expression of naked emotion. Standing, she walked around her desk and pulled him to stand up right. “You did nothing all that wrong, it was just a kiss. I was only worried that …” Byleth looked to the open door, confident no other students would walk in.

Lowering her voice so only Dimitri could hear, “I was only worried of the impropriety of anyone seeing you that night. You are the Crown Prince of Faerghus and I am just a common mercenary. It would not be appropriate, and I did not want your reputation sullied.”

Plus the fact that I’m your teacher, and older than you, and you were in my room at night. And that you seemed eager for more than just a kiss.

Another errant thought entered her head, and she fought to keep it hidden, even from herself: And I was terrified because part of me wanted you to keep going and not stop, no matter the consequences.

Swallowing the desire she felt standing so close to the handsome prince, she stepped back. “Let’s just forget that it ever happened,” she said. “Next time you need healing, we will go to the infirmary, sound good.”

“Yes, Professor,” said the Prince, nodding his head.

Before they could take their seats, a messenger came running in full tilt to her classroom. “Professor Eisner!” he called, handing her a missive. “You and the Blue Lions are ordered to report to Lord Seteth immediately.” Noticing Dimitri, he bowed, “Your Highness.”

“What could that be?” asked Dimitri, Dedue jogging to his side after the messenger had left.

Mercedes and Annette had also arrived, stepping aside for the messenger to run past through the door. “Professor?” asked Mercedes, her eyes flickering back between her and Dedue. “What is it?”

Giving the missive to Dimitri, she stated, “Urgent news from Northern Faerghus. Gather the other Blue Lions students, we must talk with Seteth.”

Chapter 31: Dimitri - Faerghus

Summary:

The Blue Lions fight Miklan.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Content warning: feelings of horror and descriptions of death.

It took them almost a week to arrive in Gautier territory. They traveled all day, only resting at night to give the horses a break. Ingrid few ahead with her pegasus to scout for bandits, but they were lucky and never came close enough for a sortie.

Dimitri’s thoughts had been consumed with worry for his longtime friend, Sylvain. They were on a mission to kill his brother an return the sacred weapon to his house. Having lost his own family, Dimitri’s heart broke for what his friend was going to have to do.

The young Prince had also had trouble keeping his eyes off of the Professor. To him, she was the most amazing woman in the world. She was strong, kind, and competent. He would admire for those qualities alone, but there was something more. Every time he was near her, smelled the scent of her sweat or, more rarely these days on their whirlwind trek to Northern Faerghus, the simple bar soap she used on campaign. Their entire camp stank of mud, sweat, and horse. Yet to him, she smelled tolerable, if not beautiful.

Wishing to respect her, he kept his distance. There wasn’t any time for any alone time anyways during their breakneck ride across almost the entire length of Faerghus. Once Seteth had learned that Miklan’s bandits were not just destroying villages but had stolen a sacred weapon, he was insistent that they ride out immediately.

Seteth had chosen the Blue Lions for two simple reasons: their house leader was the Crown Prince and their Professor wielded the Sword of the Creator. Dimitri could get them past any potential road blocks, and Professor Byleth had the most powerful sacred weapon in history in her hands: no one else could strike as fast as they could.

Gilbert, Annette’s missing father, had appeared in the days before they set out on their mission. She wasn’t sure what to make of him at first, but was happy to have him travel with them by this point. He was well versed in travel and taking out bandits, and Dimitri also found his knowledge and stories engaging to listen to around the cook fires at night. Gilbert was the first one to enter Conand Tower when they arrived.

Sylvain was the second, shouting for his brother at every level. Thankfully, Conand tower was only a few stories tall, otherwise Sylvain would have worn his voice out shouting before they got to the top. Byleth had assigned Felix and Ingrid to watch his back while they were inside, to make sure he didn’t do anything too foolish.

The bandits inside weren’t too terribly difficult to take out on their own. The bandit archers did make use of both the interior and exterior murder holes, but well placed magics and arrows of their own, ending the threat.

The real trouble came when they cornered Miklan himself. Screaming to Sylvain about how everything was his fault because Sylvain was born with a crest, and Miklan himself had not, the older Gautier brother foolishly decided to use the Lance of Ruin. When he did, the magic of the lance immediately corrupted him, transforming him into a grotesque monster.

Dimitri at first thought it could be a dragon, but a subconscious, instinctual part of himself knew that to be false. No dragon could be his ugly, this disturbing. He overheard Professor Byleth call it a “Black Beast”, and decided that name fit.

Sylvain had been the most horrified by his brother’s transformation. Near catatonic with shock, Ingrid had been forced to push him to the stone floor with her whole body weight so that he would not be gored by his brother’s monster claw. Everyone had attacked the monster with everything they had, although they had trouble maneuvering inside the cramped space of the tower.

In the end it was Professor Byleth that had made the final blow. With the whip-like power of the Sword of the Creator, Byleth had wrapped it around the monster’s neck, decapitating it with one hard pull. Sylvain had thankfully been spared that moment by Ingrid’s body shielding him.

Upon the monster’s death, the Lance of Ruin was released from the monster’s form. Byleth was the first to touch it, unafraid due to her own use of the crest-less Sword of the Creator. She had handed it to Sylvain, telling him to keep it safe. And as far as Dimitri could tell, Sylvain had, keeping it wrapped up in his bedroll as they traveled home.

They had taken almost twice as long to return to Garreg Mach. Everyone, including the horses, were exhausted, and plenty were in mourning. Sylvain was particularly melancholic, barely speaking a word on their trip home. While Ingrid was away, acting as a forward messenger due to her pegasus’ ability to fly, Felix kept Sylvain company. The two young men weren’t always friendly, with Felix being particularly annoyed with Sylvain’s womanizing, but during this time of mourning they fell into an easy, companionable silence.

During their ride back, Dimitri had begun to speak with Professor Byleth again. After more than a week of not speaking more than one or two word replies, she finally felt comfortable enough to ride beside him. He had been so ashamed of what he had done, even though she told him he didn’t need to be.

Even though she had not shown any direct affection to him, she still smiled to him and brought him biscuits as they rode. She liked to show him the different wild flowers along their ride home while they had time to look at them. He would tell her the different names, at least the ones he knew, much to her delight.

Dimitri could feel their relationship repairing itself, even if it was only friendship. There were still those times where he swore he caught her gaze lingering on his, but he didn’t want to give himself hope. She had pulled away when he first kissed her, had she not? But that was weeks ago by this point, perhaps he could try again, at a more appropriate time?

He had told her about his distaste for the crest system, and how houses like House Gautier cared so much for it. Why Miklan had been disowned because he was born without a crest, and how he, Dimitri, deeply disagreed with that decision. He also explained to her how the main houses of Fodlan had all been descended from the Ten Great Elites, heroes of the Great War from a thousand years ago. Byleth had listened in rapt attention, as though she had not heard any of these stories before. And, perhaps she had not, Dimitri surmised. She hadn’t known much about the church before she came to Garreg Mach either.

Upon returning to monastery that afternoon, they were met by the Archbishop Lady Rhea. Dimitri was somewhat surprised not to see Seteth, her right hand man there with her. The curmudgeonly administrator was the one who usually debriefed them, and Dimitri noted his absence.

Dimitri was disturbed when Lady Rhea had asked them all to keep secret about what happened to Miklan; how he turned into a Black Beast when he had tried to use the lance. Why did this woman want to keep everything concealed? What else was she hiding?

As she began to tell them of the mission for the coming month, Seteth burst into the room, frantic and covered in sweat. “Lady Rhea!” he exclaimed, running to her side.

“Flayn has gone missing!”

Chapter 32: Byleth - Audience Chamber

Summary:

Sothis tells Byleth about the Black Beasts.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Byleth’s blood ran cold as she took in Seteth’s harrowing news: his sister had gone missing. While she and the Blue Lions were in Faerghus were dealing with Miklan and his bandits, someone had stolen into the monastery and kidnapped the poor girl. Anything she felt at the loss must have paled in comparison to the dread that her brother must be feeling.

The usually reserved Seteth had burst into the chapel in the main administrative building while they were speaking with Rhea. His usually fastidiously tidy clothing was soaked in sweat, his face red with exertion from running about in search of his sister. Good, thought Byleth, Flayn must not have been missing for very long then.

“When did you see her last?” Byleth cut in as Seteth was frantically trying to tell of his sister’s disappearance.

Turning sharply to her, panic written all over his face, he stated, “Last night, before I went to bed. She was reading in our living room. I usually wake up much earlier than her, so I didn’t notice she wasn’t in her bed until later.” His eyes glassy with emotion, he told with her, “I’ve torn the monastery apart looking for her.”

“Calm yourself Seteth,” commanded Rhea, though not unkindly. “I will send out knights to search for her in town. We will find your sister.”

“Lady Rhea,” began Dimitri, stepping forward, “I have heard rumors of people going missing. Could this have something to do with that?”

Rhea nods solemnly, turning from Seteth to Dimitri. “I have heard of this as well. People both in the monastery and the town tell of a dark knight attacking innocents, thought the knights have found no concrete evidence.”

“That must be the Death Knight; I have heard people whispering about him, panicked, for days,” muttered Seteth, holding his forehead in consternation.

Placing a delicate and perfectly manicured hand on Seteth’s shoulder, Rhea said, “Please, be calm my friend. Flayn is as a … sister to me as well. I vow my unyielding support in finding her.”

Turning to Byleth and looking to Prince Dimitri, she continued, “Blue Lions, your mission now is to find Flayn.”

***

Returning to her room, Byleth was surprised to see a projection of Sothis sitting on her bed. Her imaginary friend appeared as a young girl, no older than 13, wearing raiments that appeared too large on her small body. Closing the door so that no one would hear her talking to herself, Byleth asked, “So, you’re making yourself seen now?”

“I thought it would make you more comfortable,” smiled the ghost girl. “And I wanted to talk to you about what we witnessed in the tower.”

“But I have to find Flayn,” protested Byleth, placing the Sword of the Creator against the wall and stripping from her dirty travel clothes.

“We will, but I need to tell you this first.” Pausing, her face contorted in concentration, Sothis said, “I feel like I know what it was that boy turned into: a Black Beast.”

“That’s what Rhea called them,” said Byleth while looking for her bathrobe. “What do you know?”

“Just that they are abominations,” said the specter, tilting her head. “But also that they are very, very old. This is not a new phenomena.”

“Okay,” grunted Byleth, hurrying out the door, a bag of clean casual clothes under her arm. “While you puzzle that out, I need to take a bath. Then I need to talk to Seteth, he must be half crazed with worry.”

“Yes,” hummed Sothis in her head, even though she was no longer in sight. “He must. This is all so conspicuous, don’t you think?” Byleth, as usual, didn’t know what to reply to the forgetful ghost who spoke only to her inside her head.

Chapter 33: Seteth - Office

Summary:

Byleth comforts Seteth after Flayn is kidnapped.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Not knowing what to do with himself, Seteth retreated to the comfort of his office. Locking his door, he pulled the cloying doublet, cape, and sweat soaked shirt from his body. To further cool himself he also removed his formal black boots and the socks beneath. Irritated with it’s weight, he took the circlet from his brow and placed it on his desk.

Combing his fingers through his sweaty hair, he pulled it back from his ears and neck and sighed. He had been wearing his hair long enough to cover his ears for ages, but sometimes he wished he could just wear it pulled back. With his tattooed torso and pointed ears exposed, he could finally feel his overheated skin begin to cool down.

He wasn’t exaggerating when he told Rhea that he had been running all over trying to find Flayn. When she was late for lunch he didn’t think much of it, asking students and staff if they had seen her. However, when he returned to their apartment and found her bed undisturbed, his blood ran cold and panic filled his chest. Suppressing his shame for not noticing her disappearance immediately, he called for a search and joined in himself, frantically overturning practically every rock within the monastery.

He had protected his precious little girl for almost a thousand years, keeping her hidden and safe while she slept, only to lose her within months of bringing her back into society. Frustration mounted in his chest and rose like fire to his face, causing tears to form. Consumed by his emotion, he nearly jumped when he heard a knock at his door. Not wishing for anyone to see him in his misery, he merely waited at his desk for them to leave.

When moments passed without Seteth opening the door, a strong and familiar female voice spoke, her words muffled by the closed door. “Seteth,” said Byleth Eisner, “I know you’re in there, I can see the candlelight under the door. I have some information from the knights.”

Wiping his eyes, Seteth found his still sweaty shirt and pulled it over his tattooed arms and torso. Not bothering to button his neck and wrists tightly, he went to the door and unlocked it. Before opening the door he quickly mussed his hair so it would cover his pointed ears. Opening the door he found Byleth standing on the other side, wearing a boxy cotton night dress, loose trousers, and simple leather slippers.

Upon seeing his sorry state, Byleth breathed, “Oh Seteth, I’m so sorry!” Dashing forward, she wrapped her arms around him in an unexpected, but not unwelcome, embrace. “Don’t worry, I will do everything I can to find your sister.”

As she squeezed him tightly, Seteth felt the initial surprise from her hug ebb away, replaced by warmth. This close, he could smell the soft fragrance of soap in her clean, damp hair. It was different from the usual perfume of dirt and sweat he had come to associate with her, and he found himself enjoying it.

He wanted to continue the embrace; to let this strong woman hold him up while he crumpled into his despair. Knowing he could not, he gently let go. Closing the door behind her, he asked, “You said you had word from the knights?”

“Yes,” she said, watching him with muted concern as she followed him further into his office. Her gaze flickered to the small opening at the neck of his shirt where the top of his chest was exposed. If she saw the tattoos there, she didn’t say anything. “They’ve spoken with all of the gatekeepers and merchants near the gates: Flayn nor any suspicious persons left or entered Garreg Mach in the last day.”

“Which means that Flayn is still inside the monastery,” he muttered, leaning on his desk. “I’m convinced that she was captured by this Death Knight that the people are talking about.” He looked to Byleth and said, “The same one you and your house sortied with down in the tomb.”

Approaching him, the woman placed her delicate hand atop his and squeezed. “We will find her, Seteth,” she promised, gazing up at him, her face softer than her usual. He could feel himself beginning to get lost in her deep, sapphire eyes.

Blinking himself out of his reverie, he stood straight, pulling his hand gently from hers. “Thank you Miss Eisner,” he grunted, “I greatly appreciate your efforts.”

Looking him up and down, a wry smirk etched on her face, she said, “Now, go take care of yourself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a more sorry state. Or a more sweaty one. Even after the last training session we had.”

Grinning at her comments, he walked her to the door. Yet again she was able to bring a smile to his face, even in such a dire situation. “You are right, Miss Eisner. It seems I am in need of at least a bath.”

“And a good sleep,” she added. “There’s nothing more to do tonight.” Standing at the door, she turned to say goodbye. “Seteth, we will find her.” She gave him a muted smile as she carefully closed the door.

By the Goddess, I hope with all of my heart that we do, he thought, straining to hear Byleth’s footsteps as she walked from his office. Despite how much he wanted to believe the new Professor, he couldn't trust that Flayn would be safe. The fact that Byleth had taken the time to come to him to reassure him had warmed his heart. But for now, it seemed he at least had one ally in this strange young woman.

Chapter 34: Byleth - Library

Summary:

Byleth and Dimitri have a moment in the library. The next morning Jeralt finds Byleth to tell her Manuela is missing.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Byleth stood in the darkness on the other side of Seteth’s door. She had surprised herself when she hugged him, clearly surprising him as well. Seeing him both so sad and so stressed it was the only thing she could think to do to comfort him. Byleth ignored how witnessing his naked chest, covered in mysterious blue designs, piqued her curiosity.

Her father would always gather up a great bear hug whenever she became too overwhelmed, his strong arms holding her tight. She liked to imagine he did this to help her contain her feelings in those moments; when they felt like they were going to explode from her skin. As she matured, she understood he did so as a way to show affection and reassurance to his only daughter.

The embrace she had just shared with Seteth, however, felt decidedly more intimate and unfatherly, no matter how much older than her he may have been. Hugging her arms over her annoyingly large breasts, she squashed those feelings down. The man was clearly grief stricken over the loss of his sister. This was no time to be thinking of him as anything other than a friend in need.

As she began to walk towards the stairs, Byleth heard movement down the hall towards the library. Curious, she saw the flicker of candlelight as she rounded the corner. Upon entering the room, she noted Prince Dimitri placing a book back on the shelf.

“A little late for some light reading, don’t you think?” she quipped, amused when the young man flinched, clearly startled.

“P-professor!” he exclaimed, turning quickly to face her. The book he had placed on the shelf was slightly ajar, but he didn’t seem to notice. “What brings you here at this time of night?” Unlike her, he was wearing one of his officer academy uniforms, though this one was fresh and not covered in dust from the road.

Crossing her arms, Byleth stepped forward into the candlelight. Forgetting she had no bodice, corset, or other layer beneath the thin cotton of the nightgown, she was reminded when the Prince’s eyes darted immediately to her breasts. In the act of crossing her arms she had unconsciously pulled the fabric down tight against them, exposing their true size, as well as the nipples, peaked from the chill night air. Quickly she moved to cover her breasts with her arms, but the damage was done.

Ignoring the flush that rose in her cheeks, she answered the Prince, “I should ask you the same thing. It’s after curfew you know.”

“Just looking something up,” he said jovially, approaching her. “You know how it is, when you get a thought in your head, and just can’t sleep until you figure it out?” The Prince now stood close enough to touch her, but his hands remained at his side. “It’s probably why you’re still up, so far away from the dormitories, isn’t it?”

“Yes, something like that,” she conceded. Byleth hadn’t stood this close to Dimitri in more than a month, not since before that fateful night when he kissed her. Not even during their ride to Faerghus and back had she been this close to him, especially not alone. Her lips burned as she looked up into his piercing blue eyes.

His jovial demeanor dropping, his voice husky, Dimitri said, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you … alone.”

“Oh?” she replied, novel feelings of dread and exhilaration filling her belly.

“Yes,” he hummed, looking down into her eyes with a soft but determined expression on his young, handsome face. “I feel as though I need to apologize again. For the kiss I mean. I was too forward.”

“No,” she breathed, gently tilting her head. “You don’t need to be sorry.” She uncrossed her arms and placed her hand near his on the library table. “I was just … worried about you being in my room is all.”

Taking the invitation she wasn’t entirely conscious she had given, Dimitri stepped even closer, his hand resting on hers. “I am happy to hear that.” He stood close enough to her now that she could smell the fresh soap lingering on his skin. “Can I … may I kiss you again?”

Her pulse thundering through her ears, she gazed up at him as he hovered over her. “But, you’re younger than me … I don’t know …”

“I’m not that young,” he whispered, taking his other hand and running a rough thumb gently across her jaw. “Do I not appear as a man to you?”

When he called himself a man, her body eagerly agreed, heat pooling in her core and between her legs. “Y-yes,” she stammered, enraptured by his beauty.

“Then, my lady,” he breathed, his face barely an inch away from hers. “I ask again … may I kiss you?”

Trepidation high in her throat, she breathed a barely audible “yes” and a moment later his lips crashed against hers. Full of desire, he kissed her deeply, inhaling her essence with each breath. Gently, he turned her slightly and pressed her up against the library table, maintaining the passionate kiss.

This kiss wasn’t like the first time, where it was too quick and she was surprised. This time the Prince was slow and deliberate as his lips and tongue explored hers. How many times had he done this with other girls? she found herself wondering, hating herself almost immediately for the errant thought.

As the kiss further deepened, Dimitri pressed her down further onto the table. He brought his hand up slowly along her body on the outside of her night gown, reaching her breast. When he squeezed her clothed breast in his large, strong hand, instead of the warmth of desire filling her blood, a chill of fear crept in.

“Stop,” she said quickly, pushing his hand away as she sat up. More gently, she held the errant hand in her own as she stood. “Please, stop.” She made sure to hold tightly to his hand so he wouldn’t misinterpret her words.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he breathed, his face still flush with desire. “I was too forward — I went too far —”

“No,” said Byleth, cutting him off. “It’s alright.” Pausing to find her words, she squeezed his hand and looked up into his eyes. “I’m not saying stop like that.” Seeing the pain beginning to find purchase in his expression, she added, “I’m not saying no … I’m saying not right now. It’s late and we have a long day of searching ahead tomorrow.”

Releasing his hand, she pointed to the door. Mustering up a more lighthearted tone, she remarked, “Besides, it is past curfew. I don’t want the future King of Faerghus getting in trouble.”

Snorting, he gave her a genuine smile, displaying perfect, white teeth. By the Goddess he was handsome. Hand on his chest, he dipped in a bow and said, “Good night, my lady. Until we meet again.” Rising from his bow, he turned to leave the library.

Returning her own snort, she answered, “You mean tomorrow morning in the classroom?”

His mirthful expression had momentarily dropped. “You know what I mean,” he whispered, his tone husky and serious once again. Nodding to her, he continued his exit, leaving her alone in the cold book repository.

Once he was out of eyesight, she collapsed into one of the chairs that had been pushed from the table during their … moment. As she was attempting to emotionally parse what had just happened, the lilt of her imaginary friend’s voice rang in her ears. “Why did you push him away?” asked the too-young sounding voice. “He clearly likes you.”

Her lips firmly sealed, she thought to Sothis instead of speaking: What do you think would have happened!? Did you want him to start rutting against me, right here on the table? He’s a prince, not some common brute.

Sothis’ voice rang like bells in her head. “A man is a man, no matter his title,” mused the ghost. “And this one is kinder than most. You could certainly do worse than a Crown Prince. It’s why you never let yourself feel this way for a man before; we both know it.”

The specter’s words stung because she was right. There had been plenty of boys and men throughout her life that had shown interest, but Byleth had pushed them all away. She had seen too many young women hurt or saddled with unwanted babies, abandoned by the men they thought loved them, and she didn’t want that to be her fate. Even if he were a Crown Prince, would he stay with her if she were to become pregnant? She wasn’t sure that he would. During her travels, she had heard of many nobles who either abandoned or ignored their mistresses once they bore a child. She just didn’t know Dimitri well enough to trust him yet, no matter how handsome and gallant he was.

“You’re going to have to trust a man some time if you want love,” mused the girl inside her head. “You have no attraction to women, so that’s not a route you can choose instead.”

The notion from the voice in her head temporarily shocked Byleth out of her worries. She hadn’t even considered loving a woman like she would a man, but she guessed it were possible. But, Sothis was right, as always. Byleth felt romantic love or physical attraction only for men, and that made it dangerous. She knew she wanted babies, at some point when her life was settled and safe, but it must be with the right man. A man she could trust.

She felt shame when it was not the Prince’s face that immediately came to mind, but Seteth’s. He hadn’t even shown any interest in her, yet Byleth had been recently feeling more comfortable in the older man’s presence. She had just hugged him, hadn’t she? Then she went on to kiss the Prince, or more accurately, allow herself to be kissed by the Prince. What did that say about her, about her … frivolity?

Remembering the ring her father showed her, trying to imagine giving it to Dimitri. Instead of warmth and safety, she felt desire and lust when she thought of him. Could I trust this beautiful Prince? she asked her imaginary friend.

“Perhaps, but you must ask him, not me.” A beat of silence hang in the air before the voice in her head interjected, “When you first entered, he was reading a book. I wonder what it was?”

Grateful for a reason to change the direction of her thoughts, Byleth stood and looked to the wall of shelves. One book sat slightly ajar. Walking over, she took the book from the shelf and examined it. The corner of one of the pages had been folded over. Opening the page, she found entries for large donations from a placed named “Arundel”. The last donation was dated 1174, six years ago. Why was the Prince looking at this? she wondered.

“I don’t know,” replied Sothis, “But we should keep it in mind.” Pausing a beat, the voice in her head mused, “Something is strange about this place, this Garreg Mach.”

“Indeed,” muttered Byleth, replacing the book. Tired beyond words, she trekked back to her room, grateful that she didn’t run into anyone else, especially Dimitri. Slipping into her bed, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

Byleth awoke early the next morning, eager to begin searching for the missing Flayn in earnest. With the morning sun still behind the tops of the mountains, she gathered her cape around her to keep out the chill. Even in the summer months the mornings were cold in the mountaintop monastery. Not wanting to waste any time, she grabbed a bun and mug of tea from the dining hall and promptly walked to her classroom.

As she arrived at the Blue Lions’ room she was surprised to see her father there. “Dad!?” she exclaimed, watching him exit the classroom. He was alone.

“Oh By, I was trying to find you,” he said, more anxious than usual. “I tried your dorm room but you weren’t there.”

“Early morning,” she stated, walking with him into the classroom. Setting her tea and bun down on her desk at the back of the room, she asked her father, “Did you and the knights find out more about Flayn?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Unfortunately not. But now it seems Manuela has gone missing too. I … didn’t see her last night either. Have you seen her?”

Ignoring the fact that her father had been expecting to see Professor Manuela last night, Byleth wracked her brain for where the woman could be. “Did you check her office, or the infirmary?”

“Yes, and her room too,” he grumbled.

Oh Goddess, why would her father know where Professor Manuela’s room is? she thought, fighting the flush she could feel reach her ears. Manuela was well known for her interest in men, and had even made a pass at her father in front of her when they first met. Apparently her charms had worked on the old mercenary.

“She’s disappeared, just like poor Flayn.” Scratching his head, Jeralt continued, “It’s hard to watch Seteth get more pale every minute we can’t find her.” Squeezing Byleth’s shoulder, he said, “I couldn’t imagine losing you.”

“Don’t worry about me Dad,” she said, giving him a loving but muted grin.

“I’ve got the knights doing another sweep of the monastery this morning. I will go check in, see what they’ve found.” Nodding to his daughter, Jeralt turned to leave. He gave a gruff, “Good morning,” to Felix as he walked in. The swordsman was usually the first to come to class, having been known to wake up early to train with the sword most mornings.

“What was that about?” asked the serious young man, watching Captain Jeralt walk down the campus towards the Knight’s Hall. “Did the knights find anything new.”

“No,” said Byleth, shaking her head. Sipping her tea before it got cold, she added, “He did say he couldn’t find Manuela. He had been … um … looking for her last night and she was not in her room or office.”

Felix snorted at Byleth’s comment. “Of course he was, that Manuela is almost as bad as Sylvain.” Noticing her discomfort, he mumbled, “Sorry Professor, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said, “He may be my Dad, but he’s still his own person. If he wants to … um … you know … well, it’s not my place to say anything.”

“Yeah,” grumbled Felix, sitting down in his usual spot in the second row. “Fathers can be annoying sometimes, I get it. I’ve been avoiding mine, and the boar has been happy enough to take my place entertaining him.” Scratching his head, he stared up at the ceiling. “It’s weird though, Professor Jeritza wasn’t at the training grounds this morning. He usually gives me a private lesson on Mondays.”

“What!?” asked Byleth, shooting her eyes to him. “Jeritza is gone now too!?”

Cluing into what she meant, Felix looked to her. “You wanna go check his room?”

“Let’s wait for everyone else to arrive,” she said, massaging her temples. “Then we can form a better plan.”

Chapter 35: Dimitri - Dining Hall

Summary:

The Blue Lions descend into the tunnels to search for Flayn.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Content warning: descriptions of injury and discussion of potential sexual assault.

Dimitri’s spirits were high this morning, despite the monastery buzzing with worry over the Administrator’s sister going missing. His unexpected rendezvous with Byleth in the library had gone particularly well last night and he couldn’t wait to talk to Dedue about it. Plus the information he had found on Arundel in those records was a welcome breakthrough.

At the breakfast service he quickly found Dedue and sat next to him, a wide smile on his face. Mercedes and Annette were already sitting across from him, engaged in their own conversation about magic. Almost too excited to share the news, he whispered to Dedue, “It happened last night, she kissed me!”

The clear smirk on Dedue’s face caused the girls to stop their chatter and look to the boys. “Oh ho ho,” said Annette, “Telling secrets now are we?”

“Oh, let them be,” said Mercedes gently. “Dedue is the Prince’s bodyguard, if anyone is going to hear the Prince’s secret, it’s him.” Her eyes full of warmth, she gave the dark skinned young man a genuine smile. “Don’t worry, Dedue, I won’t ask you to reveal what he just said.”

“I bet it’s about a girl,” sniggered Annette.

“A girl?” asked Sylvain a little too loudly as he, Ingrid, and Ashe approached the table, each holding their breakfast trays. “What’s this about a girl? I must know everything!”

“Dimitri is telling Dedue secrets about a girl,” cooed Annette, “Right in front of us too!”

“His Highness has finally found someone he likes?” exclaimed Sylvain, sitting on Dimitri’s opposite side, pushing his chair too close. “Come on Dimitri, spill the beans! Who is it? I bet it’s Dorothea, the singer from the Black Eagles. She’s got great pipes, and great —” Sylvain gestured with his hands in front of his chest.

Placing her tray down on the table on Sylvain’s other side, Ingrid then proceeded to smack him over the head. “I will not stand idly by and let you speak of Dorothea that way,” she said, indignant. Ashe sat quietly next to Annette, a small smile on his face.

“Oh come on, I was just having a little fun,” complained Sylvain, rubbing his scalp. “I think I deserve some after having to murder my own brother.” The mirthful rowdiness of the moment disappeared upon Sylvain’s words. Noting the change in atmosphere, Sylvain said, “Sorry … I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You didn’t murder him,” said Dimitri, grabbing Sylvain’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “He tried to kill us … to kill you.” Remembering the Professor’s words to him, he repeated them to his old friend: “It’s kill or be killed. And you saved a lot of people doing what you did.”

“Thanks, Dimitri,” muttered Sylvain. Pushing back from the table, he stood up. Scratching the back of his head, a nervous tick he had had since they were young, he said, “I’m not hungry anymore. I’ll see you guys back at class.” Grabbing his tray, he took it to the front and placed it on the counter.

“I’ll walk with you,” said Dedue, also standing. “I’m finished anyway.” Nodding to Dimitri and giving Mercedes a small smile, the tall man followed the other to the counter, and then out the door.

“He’s so sweet sometimes,” hummed Mercedes, watching them.

“Yeah, he really is,” agreed Dimitri, following her gaze. Dedue has chosen well in whom to direct his affections, he thought, bringing a spoonful of porridge to his mouth. I hope my choice is just as good.

The mood having thoroughly soured, the rest of the Blue Lions quickly finished eating their breakfast and headed to class. Dimitri was surprised to see a familiar green haired boy in the classroom as he entered, speaking with Professor Byleth as she sat at the desk in the front of the room. He overheard Linhardt say: “Please, Professor, let me help.”

“As you wish, Linhardt,” she replied in a sigh. “But I cannot be responsible if Professor Hanneman decides to mark you absent for today.”

“Why should that matter?” asked the boy, unusually animated for this time of morning. “The whole monastery is locked down today, I don’t think anyone is doing anything else more important than looking for her.” Dimitri sat down in his usual spot in the front row, watching the conversation with interest.

“As you wish,” relented Byleth, standing from her seat. Taking a sip from her coffee, she noted Dimitri’s arrival and gave him a small grin. Even such a small gesture from her made his blood begin to run warmer. “Go take a seat,” she said to the boy, waving her hand to the empty seat next to Dimitri.

Nodding to him and saying stiffly, “Your Highness,” Linhardt took the seat. The usually sleepy boy was strangely alert. Much like Professor Byleth, Linhardt didn’t make many facial expressions, but when he did they were very noticeable. If he didn’t know any better, Dimitri surmised he was almost as upset as Administrator Seteth at Flayn’s disappearance.

Standing before the classroom, Byleth raised her voice so all could hear: “Now, as you all know, Flayn, Administrator Seteth’s younger sister, has gone missing. I have also recently been told that both Professors Manuela and Jeritza have also not been seen this morning. We can only assume that they have also been taken by this so-called Death Knight.”

The room erupted in shocked whispers as the mention of the name. “Are you sure that’s who it is?” asked Dimitri.

“It must be,” said Sylvain, anger on his voice. “The people in town have been gossiping about him, even since the Ritual of Rebirth. Everyone’s scared.”

“Yes,” said Byleth, nodding at Sylvain, “That is was Seteth believes as well. As such, I require that everyone wear their weapons as we search today. We don’t know who we will encounter.”

“Where should we start?” asked Ashe from the back of the room.

“Jeritza’s apartment,” said Felix, in his usual, nonchalant way. “It hasn’t been checked yet.” He already had his sword belt strapped to his body, his longsword in the sheath.

“You heard the man,” said Dimitri, standing up. “Everyone grab your weapons and regroup at the staff apartment block.”

Moments later, with his spear in hand, Dimitri marched to the apartments the eastern side of the entrance hall, near the stables. While he had spent much time at the stables, he had never given much mind to the staff block. The rest of the Blue Lions were already there, weapons in hand.

Linhardt also stood with them, his jaw set tight in determination. They only had to wait for Professor Byleth, as she had to run all the way back to her room to grab the Sword of the Creator. At first he was surprised to see it in her hands, it’s disturbingly spine-like structure glinting in the sunlight, but he soon realized its necessity. If they were to truly find the Death Knight and any of his minions they would definitely need its power.

Following Byleth into the staff apartment block, Dimitri was unsurprised to find Jeritza’s door closed. The Professor only pounded on it three times before kicking it in. Within they found a huge tunnel bored down directly through the floor. Slightly within the tunnel was the unconscious form of Professor Manuela.

“Professor!” cried Mercedes, running to her side. Careful not to jostle her, the young woman pressed two fingers to her neck, checking for her pulse. Tears in her eyes, she looked up to Byleth and said, “She’s alive, but her pulse is faint. She’s got a gash on the top of her head, I need to take her to the infirmary.” The telltale white glow of magic appeared as Mercedes worked to heal the gash. In the short time alloted Mercedes was only able to close some of the gash, the bleeding thankfully having stopped what looked like hours ago.

Giving his spear to Annette, who as a mage had not been holding a physical weapon, Dimitri knelt next to Mercedes. “Show me how to pick her up safely,” he asked softly, deferring to her medical expertise. He knew from experience that head and neck injuries could be made worse by bending the spine the wrong way and wanted to be careful.

“Support her neck,” said Mercedes, helping Dimitri pick her up. “Make sure you keep her spine straight.” Mercedes held the older woman’s neck straight as the Prince stood to his feet.

Looking to Byleth and the others, he said, “You go on without us. I’ll take her to the infirmary and come right back.” Nodding to him, Byleth ordered the rest of the students down the hole.

Be safe, he wished as he watched them descend.

Walking behind Mercedes, Dimitri picked his way around cobblestones, careful not to jostle Professor Manuela. Despite his attraction for another, his male brain still caused him to blush as he saw how low cut the older woman’s dress was as he carried her. At one point it had slipped to reveal more skin than he had wanted to see, causing him to pause his march. Instead of feeling desire, he just felt shame for the poor woman he carried, and for how she had been brought so low by the hands of her colleague. “Mercedes,” he murmured quietly, “Can you cover the Professor …”

Showing no shock, Mercedes did as she was asked, pulling the cardigan from her shoulders and placing it over Manuela’s chest. As they took a moment to give Manuela a modicum of modesty, Dimitri felt a pang of affection for the young woman. Dedue truly did chose well, he thought, appreciative of her in that moment.

As they arrived at the infirmary, Captain Jeralt found them, followed by two of his knights. When he saw who Dimitri carried, his usually calm face contorted in anger. “Who did this to her,” he growled, frightening even Dimitri with his countenance.

“Jeritza,” said Mercedes, “Professor Byleth has found a tunnel in his room and has followed it in search of Flayn.” Placing a hand on the old Captain’s forearm, she added, “If you truly care for her, you should stay with her here. Byleth has everything well in hand.”

“You’re right,” he grumbled. He watched as Dimitri placed her on the infirmary bed, his expression softer than Dimitri had ever seen on the older man. Kneeling down, Jeralt held Manuela’s hand, kissing it in affection. Without looking to Mercedes, he asked, “Will she be alright?”

“I believe so, yes,” said Mercedes, pulling the slippers from Manuela’s feet. Gathering up a simple infirmary blanket, she draped it over the older woman. “I believe it’s only the head wound. Jeritza … must have knocked her out by hitting her over the head with some hard object.”

Appearing to hold back tears, the Captain asked in a low and dangerous voice that terrified Dimitri to the core, “Has she been … violated?”

Mercedes shot Dimitri a concerned look before turning to the Captain. “I … had not thought of that. But it is a pertinent thought.” Standing she looked at Dimitri again, her gaze serious.

Say nothing, she mouthed to him, before turning to an infirmary nurse. Whispering to her, Mercedes then put her hand on Jeralt’s shoulder. “Captain,” she said gently, her hand still on his shoulder. “If the nurse is to … check, we will need privacy. Can you please go with His Highness?” Mercedes looked back to Dimitri with a gaze that begged him for help and understanding.

“Of course,” grunted Jeralt, rising to his feet. His eyes dark and dangerous, he walked outside, Dimitri on his heels. Giving them both a sad nod, Mercedes closed the door to the infirmary behind him.

After a few moments standing awkwardly with the Captain, Dimitri asked, “What is it that they’re looking for with Professor Manuela?”

Not looking to the Prince, Jeralt sighed as he leaned on the window sill, staring out. “When a woman is raped, it tends to be violent, and the rapist can … rip the delicate flesh. That is what Mercedes and the nurses will be looking for.”

Rape, thought Dimitri, horrified. He never thought Jeritza capable of such a thing until now. And what of Flayn? What could have happened to her? “Do you really think Jeritza could do that to her?”

“Anything is possible,” grunted Jeralt. “What else should I think, with women having gone missing, and one being found knocked out in his personal quarters.” Hiccuping, clearly holding back a sob, the Captain continued, “I’ve seen his type before, the quiet loner type. You have to watch out for them, they’re usually the most dangerous, the most … predatory.”

Waiting a beat, Dimitri stated, “You care for her, don’t you? Professor Manuela, I mean.”

“Against my better judgment,” grumbled Jeralt, still looking out the window. “But, you can’t always choose the ones you love. No matter how ridiculous or opposite they are, they grab your heart and won’t let go. And sometimes, you just have to let them, because if you don’t, well,” he paused and bowed his head, “They’re just going to keep your heart anyways because you’ve already given it to them when you weren’t looking.”

“It sounds like you have experience,” mumbled Dimitri, looking out the same window.

“More than you know, kid,” said Jeralt, a tear falling from him onto the stonework of the window sill. “More than you know.”

Chapter 36: Seteth - Infirmary

Summary:

Seteth talks to Byleth after she bring Flayn back to him.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Content warning: descriptions of medical care.

“Flayn!” cried Seteth, shedding all of his stately demeanor as he ran towards his daughter. She was being held by the burly Dedue, her unconscious head resting serenely on his chest like a small child. Following close behind was the green-haired mage from the Black Eagles class.

Tears flowing down his cheeks, he took his daughter from the dark skinned youth, careful to keep her ears concealed beneath her hair. He couldn’t be certain that particular secret was still hidden from her rescuers, but Seteth couldn’t bring himself to care at this moment. The only thing that mattered was that his daughter was brought back to him in one piece.

Searching the students of the Blue Lions, Seteth noted that the swordsman, the son of Duke Rodrigue, carried a red-haired girl. This seemed familiar, though Seteth couldn’t place her name. Looking past them, he found Byleth, bringing up the rear. She looked exhausted, the Sword of the Creator against her shoulder.

“Come,” said Seteth, making direct eye contact with the Professor. “We need to get Flayn to the infirmary. We can speak there.”

Once Seteth had Flayn down on the infirmary bed, he allowed himself to collapse into a chair beside her. Seteth grasped is daughter’s hand, determined not to let go. Felix laid the other girl on a bed on the other side of the room. Seteth noted that Professor Manuela was already in the infirmary, Captain Jeralt by her side.

Thanking her students for their help, Byleth dismissed them. The green-haired Linhardt lingered at a respectful distance, his eyes on Flayn. Seteth looked at the boy in consternation, uncomfortable with the attention he was giving his daughter. Mercedes remained to assist with the healing efforts.

“Please, Linhardt,” spoke Byleth, placing a hand on the boy’s forearm. Seemingly started by her touch, his gaze shot to her face. “Flayn needs to rest. I will tell you personally when she is well enough for visitors.”

Nodding, Linhardt looked once more to Flayn before leaving the infirmary. Noting Seteth’s poorly concealed glare, Byleth said, “You should be thanking him you know. He’s the one took all of those … things out of her arms and healed her.”

Things out of her arms? thought Seteth, eyes wide with shock. Pointing at a chair near them with his eyes, he commanded the Professor, “Please, sit. Tell me everything.”

And so she did.

Byleth recounted how they had found the tunnel and ran inside. Sylvain had been the first one to reach the long hidden dungeon, Felix close behind him. The red-haired boy ran ahead, screaming challenges left and right, determined to kill something, anything. Seteth surmised this was because the boy was still angry at having to kill his own brother recently. With Felix’s newfound lockpicking skill they had checked every room, every cell. Ashe had picked off several interlopers with his bow, Annette by his side throwing attack spells.

When Byleth began to describe how they had found Flayn deep inside the tomb, Seteth bit his tongue to keep from wailing. His daughter had been hooked up to a strange machine, alongside the other girl. She had been strapped down, put in a state of dreamless sleep with some spell or potion, Byleth could not tell. Tubes had led out from her arms, pulling blood from her veins. Apparently, the boy Linhardt, had been instrumental in identifying the tubes as well as the machine, and had been the one to remove them from his daughter’s body, healing the spots where they had been attached with his white magic.

I will have to thank him personally, thought Seteth, gazing on his daughter’s sleeping face.

Leaving Dedue to watch over Linhardt as he had healed Flayn and then the unknown girl, Byleth had found the Death Knight. She had challenged him to a duel with the Sword of the Creator, but right before they came to blows, a stranger calling themselves the “Flame Emperor” appeared. They had argued with the Death Knight, then spirited them both away with magic. After that all of the Death Knight’s minions has scattered, though still underground.

Overhearing about the existence of the minions, Jeralt said from next to Manuela’s bed, “I will send the Knights to hunt down every last one of them.”

“Thanks Dad,” said Byleth, looking over to her father. Seteth couldn’t read her expression, but noted how she stared at her father’s hand as it held Professor Manuela’s.

“Miss Eisner,” said Seteth, his voice still full of emotion. “Byleth, you have my eternal gratitude for saving my … sister.” Goddess be damned, he hated having to keep up this ruse, of not being able to call Flayn his daughter. But it must be kept in place as one of the fewer and fewer safeguards keeping their identities hidden. Looking to Byleth, he said, “I am forever in your debt.”

“Why was Flayn taken?” she asked, her ocean eyes gazing into his.

Not wanting to reveal too much, Seteth said, “Her kidnapper was the Death Knight, correct? The same fiend who stole into the tomb during the Rite of Rebirth?” Sighing, he looked to the floor in shame. “It is plausible that he was Jeritza all along. I am so stupid for having missed it for so long.”

“Don’t,” snapped Byleth, causing his eyes to shoot back up to her. “Don’t you start thinking that way. We all missed it.”

Swallowing, Seteth allowed himself to be absorbed by her fathomless, sapphire gaze. “There’s also this ‘Flame Emperor’ fellow. We can’t forget about him either.” Looking at Flayn he imagined the tubes coming from her arms and wept.

“Seteth,” breathed Byleth, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Looking to her, he felt as though he could melt under her caring gaze. “Do you know why they took her? Why they were taking her blood?”

Heaving a heavy sigh, he clenched his eyes tight. I have to tell her something, otherwise she will keep asking questions. Eyes still closed, he placed his head in his hands, slumping forward. “Flayn’s blood is … dangerous. If enemies know the secret of Flayn’s blood have appeared, at the monastery no less, we will have to leave and go back into hiding.”

“No,” came a weak voice to his right. Startled, he lifted his head. Turning, he saw his daughter’s peridot eyes looking back at him. “No … brother. I will not go into seclusion, not again.”

“But Flayn,” he began, panic rising in his voice. “You could be targeted again if we stay!”

“So what!?” she cried, straining to push herself up on her elbows. She was clearly still weak from the blood loss she had endured. “We will still be hunted, no matter where we go! It’s safest if we stay here, surrounded by Knights.”

Flayn looked past him to the Professor. “Let me join Professor Byleth’s class,” she plead. “That way I can learn to protect myself while being surrounded by knights and officers.”

“I think that’s a great idea!” stated Byleth, her voice encouraging. Seteth’s eyes darted between the two women, bewildered.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Flayn had a point, remaining with the woman who bore the Sword of the Creator would keep her safe, in some ways.

“I will be safe with her,” said Flayn, her eyes soft. “Please, brother. I can’t be alone again. I need to be around people, to learn and talk and just simply live my life!”

Feeling his heart yearn for the simplicity of the life she described, he conceded. “As you wish, Flayn.” Turning back to Byleth, he took her hand in both of his. Remembering the embrace she had given him the night before, he allowed his defenses to lower, if only a small bit.

“I must admit, that you have proven yourself a trusted ally to us, Miss Eisner. Please,” he begged, pushing his pride aside, “Promise me that you will look after Flayn. She is all that I have.”

"Of course," Byleth said, squeezing his hand reassuringly, her expression soft, almost a smile. Her ocean eyes were depths of emotion, inviting him to dive in. "You can trust me, Seteth." His heart fluttered at the sound of his name, and for the first time, he believed he could fully trust her.

Chapter 37: Byleth - Infirmary

Summary:

Byleth remembers a traumatic mission from her youth. Seteth holds a fishing tournament for Flayn. The Blue Lions plan for a sojourn to Faerghus.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Content warning: descriptions of medical care and memories of human trafficking.

“Hey By,” said Jeralt, standing from where he was sitting next to Professor Manuela. The older woman was still unconscious, her head wrapped in bandages. “I’d like to talk to you about something … outside.” Looking over to Mercedes, who had been checking the other unknown girl, he added, “You too, Mercedes.”

“Yes, Captain,” said the young woman, following Jeralt to the exit of the infirmary.

Patting Seteth’s shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring way, Byleth stood. Turning to her father, she gave Captain Jeralt a quizzical look, before following both him and Mercedes out the door. Jeralt closed the door behind them.

“So, Mercedes,” asked Jeralt, his voice low and heavy with what Byleth could only assume was sorrow. Or worry, perhaps? She wasn’t sure, as her father was almost as unlikely as she was to show his true emotions, though he did so by choice. “What did you and the nurse discover? I didn’t have a chance to ask before By and her crew showed up.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” said Mercedes, and Jeralt immediately sighed with relief. “She likely has a concussion, but was otherwise not harmed … elsewhere.” Mercedes’ eyes were downcast as she said the last part of her sentence.

“Hmm,” grunted Jeralt, pinching his eyes, “Thank the Goddess for that. I would still like for you to check Flayn and that other girl. Make sure Seteth isn’t in the room when you ask Flayn, I don’t want him worrying more than he already is.”

“Ask Flayn about what?” demanded Byleth, alarmed by how they were dancing around the subject. “What do you need to ask Flayn about?”

“Don’t be so naive, By,” sighed Jeralt, shooting her an annoyed expression. “You’ve seen girls in worse states than those three after they’ve been kidnapped. Don’t you remember that job we had a few years back, that big rescue mission?” At mention of said mission, Byleth paled and her stomach dropped.

In vivid details, Byleth remembered the mission her father alluded to. A near condemned house with cobbled together rooms, too many beds, and even more young women, some barely older than girls. Jeralt had flown into a rage when he found those girls, all beaten, bloody, and starved half to death. Her father had killed, or had his mercenaries kill, every man nearby, whether they were captor or … customer.

Due to Byleth having skill in healing magic, however minor, she was amongst those to first help the girls. Some had been so mistreated that they were still bleeding from between their legs. Byleth suspected that it was that day when she truly began to fear what the wrong man could do to a woman. From that point forward she had vowed to never let it happen to her or anyone else she knew, for as long as she lived.

“You don’t mean …” she began, horrified at the concept, “Not Flayn … not Manuela …” Swaying on her feet in shock, her father grabbed her shoulders, holding her steady.

“Whoa there,” he said, keeping her upright. “Don’t go getting all wobbly on me kid. Based on what Mercedes just said, that’s not what happened. I just want her to check on Flayn to make sure. And only if Flayn is comfortable with it.” Checking her eyes, making her look at him, he continued, “You hear me? Manuela was not touched. Getting hit over the head isn’t great, but she wasn’t violated. And Flayn more than likely wasn’t either.”

But her blood was stolen. Isn’t that a violation too, of a kind? Why in the name of the Goddess would they want her blood?

“What do we tell Seteth?” she asked, still in a daze.

“Nothing,” said Jeralt, “It’s not our place.” Looking to Mercedes, Jeralt asked her, “Can you send him out here, with us? I’ll keep him distracted long enough for you to talk to Flayn.”

Mercedes nodded, and reentered the infirmary. As they waited, Jeralt took his daughter into a tight hug. “It’s okay,” he whispered, enveloping her with his strong arms. This close she could hear his heartbeat, the sound forever comforting to her. “They’re okay … you’re okay.”

“I know … Dad,” she said quietly, letting him release her from his hold. “Are you okay?”

Her father made an almost imperceptible cringe, his eyes downcast. As he considered his answer, the door to the infirmary opened. “Let’s talk more later,” he grunted, “In my office.”

Moments later, Seteth emerged slowly, saying something softly to Flayn that Byleth couldn’t make out. Closing the door, he looked to Jeralt. “So, Captain,” he began, his serious and stern tone taking over, “What is our next move?”

“There are apparently several unmapped catacombs under the main level of the monastery,” said Jeralt, “Which is where these bastards must have been hiding and making their plans. I propose that we have a contingent of Knights go down with a scribe or mapmaker and dispose of anyone they find down there, before bricking it up.”

“That sounds like a good start,” muttered Seteth, scratching the more unkempt than usual beard on his chin. Around his usually well manicured goatee was more than a day’s worth of stubble. “Can we have Shamir look into how they found out about the catacombs in the first place?”

“There’s a chance Jeritza knew about them from the start,” said Byleth, remembering the tunnel she had gone through. “That tunnel was well made, reinforced even. He was likely a plant.”

“Dammit,” grumbled Seteth, “He had come highly recommended from nobles in Enbarr. I will have to get Shamir and her people to do some deeper digging into those references.”

Turning to Byleth, appearing to be on the verge of tears, he gave her a sad smile. “Thank you, Byleth,” he said, his green eyes looking directly into hers. She usually had to force herself to maintain eye contact, as it was difficult for her. But his eyes, she found, were easy to watch. “I owe you a great deal for bringing Flayn back to me. She is …” Seteth pinched his eyes, appearing to attempt to keep the tears hidden from her and Jeralt.

“It’s okay,” said Jeralt, patting Seteth’s shoulder. The two men were of a height, causing Byleth to look up to both of them. Her heart filled with warmth as she watched her father comfort the administrator, in his own gruff way. “We understand.”

Taking a deep, shuttering breath, Seteth removed his hand from his face and stood to his full height. “Thank you, Captain,” he said softly. Byleth wanted nothing more than to give the tall man a hug, like she had the night before, but she was unsure if it were appropriate.

As Byleth was contemplating her next action, Mercedes opened the door and stepped outside. Looking to Jeralt, then to Seteth, the older girl smiled softly and said, “Flayn is tired but unharmed, other than the blood taken. She is sleeping at the moment. I want to keep her in the infirmary for a few days under observation while she regains her strength. Also,” she said, looking back to Jeralt, “Professor Manuela is awake, Captain. She was asking after you.”

Nodding to his daughter and the administrator, Jeralt slid past Mercedes through the door. Byleth watched on with trepidation as her father walked over to the older woman’s side, bending to kiss her softly on the lips. Sensing her unease, Mercedes closed the door. “Are you alright, Professor?” she asked.

“Yeah, um …” said Byleth, before wobbling on her feet. This time, instead of her father there to catch her, Seteth grabbed her arm. Mercedes stepped forward in alarm as well.

“Miss Eisner?” asked Seteth, concern in his soft, masculine voice. “Should we get you a bed in the infirmary as well?”

Byleth hated how the blood rushed through her arm where he held her. Standing straight, she looked to him and gave a muted smile. “No, I’m alright. That …” she murmured, looking back to the door. “I didn’t know ….”

“He likely didn’t want to upset you,” said Seteth, releasing her arm. Part of her wished he still held her, and she felt stupid for wanting such a thing while his sister was invalid on the other side of the door in front of her.

How selfish could I be, she wondered, blood rushing to her ears in embarrassment. And what about Dimitri? Didn’t you just kiss him last night?

“Administrator Seteth, allow me to take the Professor back to her room,” said Mercedes, stepping forward to take Byleth’s arm in hers. Mercedes touch was a great deal less enthralling than Seteth’s, and Byleth was grateful for her support.

“Thank you, Miss von Martritz,” said Seteth, nodding to her. Looking to Byleth, her heart fluttered as he gave her a gentle smile. “You as well, Miss Eisner. Flayn and I are in your debt.” Nodding to the girls, he returned to the infirmary, closing the door behind him.

“Come, Professor,” said Mercedes, gently pulling her in the direction of the dormitories. “I believe we all deserve a rest after the long day we’ve gone through.”

As they were walking through the grounds of Garreg Mach, a familiar high-pitched feminine voice rang through her head: “I am so relieved that Flayn is safe.”

Me too, thought Byleth. Unwittingly, an image of Seteth sitting next to the girl’s bed in the infirmary came to mind.

“I have a bad feeling about that girl,” said Sothis inside her head.

What? You mean that girl they were calling Monica? What do you mean, bad feeling?

“I don’t know,” said Sothis, a shrug in her voice. “I am glad Flayn is safe.”

Yeah, me too. An image of Seteth bent over his sister’s infirmary bed came unbidden to Byleth’s mind.

“You like him, don’t you?” mused the voice in her head.

Flashes of two different faces came to mind: one of a young blond prince, and the other an older emerald haired administrator. I don’t know what you’re talking about, she thought forcefully at her imaginary friend.

“Don’t be silly,” Sothis said in a sing-song voice in her head. “I am in your mind, I can see everything you do, feel everything you feel.”

Then you don’t need to ask, do you? Byleth looked carefully to Mercedes, hoping the girl didn’t notice anything strange in her own behavior. If she did, Mercedes made no mention of it.

“I just want you to admit what you’re feeling,” giggled the ghost, appearing to fly next to her. “They’re both very handsome, both very caring …”

Unintentionally interrupting the specter, Mercedes turned to Byleth as they reached her door. “I must go speak with Dimitri,” said the soft spoken girl. “Will you be fine on your own?”

Blinking in surprise, unsure if Sothis timed their conversation with Mercedes’ comment, Byleth nodded slightly. “Yes, thank you Mercedes. For walking with me I mean.”

“Of course, Professor,” said Mercedes, nodding her head. As she turned, she seemed to remember something, and looked to Byleth. With a knowing smile, Mercedes said, “Dimitri carried Manuela to the infirmary, you know. He can be very sweet, at times.”

“Y-yes,” admitted Byleth, blinking at the other girl.

“He is … fond of you,” revealed Mercedes. Carefully choosing her words, she added, “Just … be careful with him. He tends to feel emotions very strongly. I worry for him sometimes, as does Dedue …”

“I would never hurt him,” admitted Byleth, placing her hand on her heart, “I swear it.”

Mercedes shook her head. “That’s not what I’m worried about. Anyways, I must go see him, tell him of Manuela’s state. Goodnight Professor.” Giving Byleth a small smile, Mercedes turned to walk up the stairs next to her door.

As she entered her own dormitory room, the ghost of Sothis’s spectral form flew past and into her customary corner. Her arms crossed, she gave Byleth a coy grin. “You still haven’t answered me,” she pushed, “Which one do you like?”

Grumbling, Byleth pulled her sword belt off and threw it at Sothis. The specter merely let it pass through her, not even interrupting her projection. “What does it matter? Dimitri likes me, Seteth doesn’t. The choice is clear, don’t you think?”

Sothis shook her head and sighed. “I keep telling you to ask people first before making assumptions! You won’t know if he likes you unless you ask him.”

“And what good would that do?” grunted Byleth, pulling off her boots. “What if he says yes, then what? He’s my boss. It’s bad enough that I have a teenaged boy after me, and they always have girls on the mind. That’s at least what my Dad says.” Sighing, she sat down on her bed.

Sothis shrugged. “I don’t know,” she admitted, shrugging emphatically. “You’ll just have to find out. A bad answer is better than the limbo of no answer at all.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not ready for the real answer, good or bad right now,” grumbled Byleth, grabbing her bathrobe and bathing bag. “I need to have a bath. Can you please just, I don’t know, sleep for a while? I need to think.”

“As you wish,” hummed Sothis, making an over-dramatic show of laying down Byleth’s bed. Sighing with exasperation, Byleth left the ghost of the silly green-haired girl on her bed for the sanctuary of the baths.

***

Rhea and Seteth greeted Byleth and her house in the second floor audience chamber as they usually did at the beginning of each month. The other two houses were also present this morning. Rhea was particularly excited to announce this month’s singular mission being preparations for the annual Battle of Eagle and Lion. Seteth, his routinely stern nature on display as he warned them this was a test of their skill up until this point.

Telling her that he had his own mission to go on during the mock battle, Jeralt had asked her to search his office if he didn’t come back. When she pressed further, he only told her that he had no intention of dying and not to worry. Her father had been acting strange lately, and the intimate moments she witnessed between him and Professor Manuela in the infirmary were only the beginning of his mysteries.

Manuela had been able to attend this meeting with all three houses, but was uneasy on her feet. She still complained of headaches and nausea she thought came from vertigo when she was standing. Jeralt never strayed far from her, though never too close either. Byleth expected this was Manuela’s request, not wanting the students to speculate about their relationship. The only two students, that Byleth knew about, who had witnessed their kiss were Flayn and Mercedes, and both girls were polite enough not to talk.

Learning that Manuela was planning on sitting out on the Battle of Eagle and Lion, Byleth and Hanneman offered to sit out as well. At first Manuela said they didn’t need to, that her Golden Deer were particularly well prepared under Claude’s leadership, but the other Professors insisted. It was decided that Byleth, Manuela, and Hanneman would watch the students from atop the promontory cliff with Rhea and Seteth.

During discussions of the Battle of Eagle and Lion, Dimitri had surprised Byleth with his own jubilation. The typically reserved young man was brimming with infection excitement. Byleth herself had not understood why the students cared so much about this mock battle, but allowed herself to get wrapped up in the thrill of anticipation her students felt.

Later that week, Byleth found Seteth in the room adjoining the chapel. As she entered the room, he looked up to watch her walk in, a smile on his lips. “Ah, Miss Eisner, I was hoping I would see you. I was hoping to ask you for a favor.”

“Leave it to me,” she replied quickly.

Seteth’s brows shot up, clearly astonished by her answer. “But I haven’t told you what my request was yet?”

Byleth shrugged, a blush threatening to cover her cheeks. Darn it, I’m being too forward again.

“Alright then,” he smiled, “Flayn has been through a great deal lately and I would like to give her whatever she wants. She has said she would like a feast of fish, her favorite food.” Standing straight, crossing his arms, he continued, “I have decided to host a fishing tournament in her honor.”

“Oh!?” replied Byleth, again, too quickly.

“Yes, well, it’s just for fun. I was hoping that you would enter. Flayn is fond of you and I believe she would appreciate your efforts.” Coughing, he straightened his high collar. “As would I,” he said in a lower voice.

“No problem,” she said, amused by his fidgeting. Granted, it was an oddly indulgent request from the customarily strict man. Byleth found she liked this softer side to him.

When she had walked down to the fishpond, Byleth had found several other students already participating. Flayn herself was sitting next to Linhardt, who himself was holding a rod. Byleth was surprised to see him, as the young man usually spent his free days snoozing in his room. She overhear snippets of their conversation, of how Flayn wanted to see the world, and how Linhardt wished he weren’t a noble and could spend his days fishing. The boy had seemingly taken an interest in the administrator’s little sister, and Byleth wondered if she should warn him about how Seteth was known for being overprotective.

The tournament went well. Byleth had caught a few fish, but the largest went to Raphael, unsurprisingly. All of the fish were to go to the dining hall for a large feast that night.

Bored and wanting to burn time until dinner, Byleth found herself wandering over to the classrooms. Inside she found Dimitri, Dedue, and Sylvain discussing a map pinned to the wall. “Ah, Professor!” beamed Dimitri as she entered the room. “I was hoping to see you today.”

Gesturing to the map, Dimitri said, “There are some matters in Faerghus that need to be attended to. I was hoping we could go in with a small strike force and be back before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, looking quizzically at the map. There were two areas in the north east region outlines in charcoal. “It would take a week alone to ride up there. We have only three weeks until the mock battle.”

“We could fly,” said Sylvain, uncharacteristically serious as he looked at the map.

“Yes, that would work,” agreed Dedue. “We could take some wyverns and pegasi and the strongest riders from our house. We shouldn’t need more than a handful of our best to quell the rebellion.”

“Rebellion?” asked Byleth, “What rebellion?”

Seeing his friends pained expression, Dimitri jumped in to explain: “We have had word that some of the Duscurian survivors are causing trouble. The local lord has even started rallying men to fight them. Dedue was hoping we, namely me as the Crown Prince, could talk to the Duscurians before real fighting broke out.”

“And on our way back we can deal with the bandits my brother left behind,” grunted Sylvain, his arms crossed over his chest.

“It shouldn’t take more than a week at most,” said Dimitri, clearly forcing himself to be cheerful for his friends’ sake.

“Are you sure?” she asked, focusing on Dimitri. “If we are late coming back to the Battle of Eagle and Lion, it will be both our heads. Lady Rhea would not be happy with us.”

With a boldness Byleth had not expected in front of the other two boys, Dimitri grasped her hand in his. Pulling it to his lips, he kissed it, causing Sylvain to guffaw and Dedue to smirk. “Yes, my lady, I am sure.”

Forcing herself not to blush, Byleth nodded. “Well, in that case, I will ask Seteth for use of the wyverns.” At mention of the other man’s name, Dimitri’s smile dimmed. “Do you have a list of who you wish to bring?”

Sylvain held up a hand, and counted off names: “There’s the four of us, then Felix, of course, he’s always up for a fight. Annette will want to go if Felix is going. Ingrid is good in the sky, and we will need Mercedes for healing. So that makes eight.” Thinking for a moment he asked Byleth, “Do you think we should bring Flayn? This would be her first mission.”

“Maybe,” mused Byleth, letting the Prince still hold her hand. “I’m sure Seteth has taught her to fly on wyvern-back, he is the expert here at Garreg Mach. But, she’s still healing.” Shaking her head, Byleth made her decision. “No, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’ll let her know when I’m asking Seteth about the wyverns.”

“Well, now that that’s settled, let’s go get some grub, I’m starving,” said Sylvain, walking towards the door.

“You two go ahead of us,” said Dimitri, his eyes on Byleth. “I wish to speak to the Professor alone.”

“Yeah, I’m sure all you’ll do is speak,” teased Sylvain with a knowing tone.

“Show some decorum, Sylvain,” admonished Dedue, pushing the red-haired boy out the door in front of him. Nodding to the Prince and their Professor, Dedue shut the door to the Blue Lions classroom behind him.

Waiting a beat to make sure the door wouldn’t immediately reopen, Dimitri pressed his hand to Byleth’s cheek. As he did most days lately, he wore gloves with a steel gauntlet attached to the outside. Even with the extra weight, he managed to be gentle.

“Mercedes told me about what happened, at the infirmary, after I left,” he said softly, watching her face for any trace of emotion.

“She did?” asked Byleth, watching his ice-blue eyes. “W-what did she say?” Immediately she hated how she stammered, which was common when she was overwhelmed.

“She told me how you were … unnerved by the suggestion that Manuela and the girls could have been … violated. That you had … come across a particularly horrible whore house during your mercenary days?”

“Oh,” she said, looking down. “That. Yeah, it was a bad time. There were … so many girls … um …”

Pulling her into him, he squeezed her tight. "Shh," he said, patting her head, acting decidedly more mature than his seventeen years would suggest. “I understand, I’ve seen what evils humans can wrought with my own eyes.” As he continued to hold her, he added, “I’m sorry if I’ve been too forward with my affections towards you. I didn’t mean to push you.”

“No, it’s okay,” she breathed into his chest. Pushing away from him, she looked into his eyes. They were wet with unshed tears. “I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.”

Pressing his forehead to hers, the Prince whispered, “Sometimes, when I’m in the heat of battle, or when I’m angry, I feel like I’m losing myself. Promise me you’ll stop me before that happens?”

“I’ll do my best,” she admitted, unsure what else she could say. She was a strong swords-woman, but after watching Dimitri for months, she could tell he was stronger. Her only saving grace was she was much more skilled than he was. In her heart, she worried the only way she could stop him was by cutting him down.

“That’s all I ask,” he breathed. After a beat of standing in their embrace, Dimitri asked, “Can I kiss you? I promise it will only be a kiss this time.”

Chuckling, Byleth answered him by gently pressing her lips to his. Unlike the last time in the library, Dimitri kept his mouth closed and his hands around her in a chaste embrace. Even so, Byleth could feel his affection radiating off of him like heat on a summer’s day.

Releasing the embrace, she smiled at him. “Let’s go get some dinner. The way Flayn was talking about all of the different ways they could prepare fish made me really excited.”

"Lead the way, my lady," smiled the Prince, gesturing towards the door with an open palm.

Chapter 38: Flayn - Library

Summary:

Flayn talks to Linhardt in the library.

Notes:

Reworked from the original to be from a single point of view.

Cold rain fell from dark clouds all weekend that week. Flayn found herself wandering between the dining hall and library after the morning meal. Most of the students were indoors as well, keeping out of the rain. As she was perusing the books about dance in Garreg Mach’s main library, she startled when Linhardt said her name behind her.

Turning, Flayn gave the boy a wide smile. He was one of the few boys in the Academy who didn’t seem to be afraid of her father, whom they all knew as her overbearing older brother. Even if Seteth was in the same room, glaring at any boy that approached her, Linhardt seemed to always be blissfully unaware. The boy was strange in how he didn’t seem to care what others thought of him, and she appreciated it.

Linhardt had also apparently been the first person to find her in the bowels of the catacombs beneath Garreg Mach, Professor Byleth right behind him. Even though he wasn’t part of the Blue Lions, he had insisted on coming with them to find her.

From what she had been told, Linhardt’s knowledge of science and medicine helped him identify and safely remove the tubes that had been attached to her. Only later did she discover how the sight blood usually made him woozy. Once she heard that, Flayn understood just how truly heroic it had been for him to be the one to deal with her bloody arms. She wanted to hug him when she heard that news, but didn’t want to upset the usually reticent young man who appeared to dislike touch.

“Hello Linhardt, I’m surprised to see you out of bed this early.”

“Hello Flayn, I was curious if you could confirm some suspicions I have?”

“Suspicions?”

“I’ve recently been reading a lot about Saint Cethleann. I remember overhearing somewhere that you’re familiar with her, correct?”

Oh Goddess, thought Flayn, panic rising in her throat. What could he possible want with me and Saint Cethleann?

“I know little of her, as do many,” she replied, her words clipped. “But what does this have to do with me?”

“Well, I have interviewed several members of the academy and monastery, and they all agree that you have trouble focusing on detail-oriented work?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked, incensed at his description of her, even if it were true. As per usual, he either ignored or didn’t notice her discomfort.

“As I mentioned, I’ve been carefully researching Saint Cethleann and found many interesting details about her life. Granted,” he added, waving his hands excitedly about as he spoke, “It’s not stated explicitly in the texts, so I had to read between the lines a bit.

“The authors of several works, all written within a few decades of the Saint’s death, all implied that she found it difficult to focus on, well, detail-oriented tasks. Then, a few days ago, I was studying the statues of the Saints, and noticed that you look remarkably like Saint Cethleann.” Giving her a wide smile, clearly proud of his deductive skills, he asked her, “Interesting, don’t you think?”

Feeling both dread and anger towards the boy, Flayn decided on anger. “I do not appreciate your disrespect towards a Saint.”

Still not showing the slightest bit of remorse or acknowledgment of her anger, Linhardt said, “No disrespect intended, I only meant that looking like her is an honor!”

Wishing to be done with this dangerous conversation with the usually amenable boy, Flayn turned to leave. Should I tell father about this interaction? No, he would only worry.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, “There’s another thing …”

Huffing in annoyance, Flayn stopped and turned. “If you must.”

“You are quite skilled in white magic, are you not? I am as well, even though my fear of blood keeps me from participating in healing as often as I would like.”

“Yes, I am,” she agreed, “I am quite confident in my abilities. I am glad that I am able to help others.”

“Indeed!” he said, excited again. “Once more, it is an echo of Saint Cethleann. I’m so curious as to why these similarities exist. Do you think it has to do with the hereditary traits of her Crest?” Scratching his chin, his eyes glazed over with thought. “Or am I just finding patterns where there are none …”

Willing herself not to throttle the boy, Flayn turned on her heel. “I will be going now,” she huffed, not waiting for Linhardt to reply. Up until that moment, she had liked him, but now his powers of observation were alarming her. Just how much did he know? And if he knew this much, how much else had other students in the Academy figure out? The leader of the Golden Deer, Claude, was uncannily perceptive, even her father was wary of him. And Hubert, Princess Edelgard’s right hand man, was so spooky in how he appeared to look right through her. He was easier to avoid though.

Flayn didn’t feel afraid of Linhardt, per se. And she did owe him a great debt. She had heard that he also had a Minor Crest of Cethleann from Hanneman, so maybe that had something to do with his curiosity. Either way, even if he wasn’t trying to hit on her like the other boys, this Linhardt was vying for her attention in his own way. Best keep that to myself, she thought as she walked back to the apartment she kept with her father on the third floor.

Chapter 39: Dimitri - Faerghus

Summary:

Dimitri and the Blue Lions travel to regions in Faerghus.

Notes:

I have reworked this fic to have each chapter as a single point of view. This is the first of the somewhat rewritten chapters.

From what Dimitri had heard, Seteth was nonplussed to let his house borrow Wyverns for a quick sojourn to Northern Faerghus, but was more amenable to the plan when Byleth had told him she wasn’t planning on bringing Flayn. He had only given them four wyverns, determining that because they were not fighting on wyvern back, that was enough for simple travel. Wyverns were much stronger fliers than Pegasi and could hold more weight. They weren’t allowed to carry more than basic travel gear and one weapon each though. Sylvain told them they could gear up at his father’s armory, so Dimitri wasn’t particularly worried.

To distribute weight, they had decided to pair up a girl and boy to each wyvern, with the shorter girl sitting in front. With Ingrid, Sylvain, Dimitri, and Felix being the stronger riders, that left Dedue, Mercedes, Annette, and Byleth to be organized as seconds. Clearly Dedue had to sit with Ingrid, so that was an easy decision. Knowing Sylvain’s propensity for womanizing, it was decided that the Professor would ride with him, though Dimitri wished she would be his partner. Annette was beaming as she climbed the saddle to sit in front of Felix, leaving Dimitri with Mercedes.

The flight to Faerghus was uneventful, despite the changing weather conditions along the way. Everyone was wearing their oil cloths, both for warmth and in case they had to fly through any clouds. Dimitri was amused as Mercedes held her breath every time they rose and fell throughout the flight, not expecting her to be as scared as she was.

Frequently he looked to the other riders, their faces obscured by the flying goggles, cold weather face masks, and leather flying helmets. He smiled as he watched how little Annette leaned into Felix, clearly more comfortable with the situation than his own passenger. Dedue held Ingrid around the waist for most of the ride, seemingly as uncomfortable with the flight as Mercedes. Byleth held the reins almost as often as Sylvain did, uncommonly quick to pick up new skills as usual.

By late evening they had arrived at Gautier Castle. Despite having requested his son to return home to take care of the straggling bandits of Miklan’s band, Margrave Gautier had not expected them so soon. Sylvain was the one to introduce his group and order the wyverns to be stabled. Even after knowing him for the better part of his life, Dimitri was always pleasantly surprised when his friend fell into the formal role of noble heir as he gently but sternly ordered the staff around.

Within the hour, Margrave Gautier and his wife had woken and come to greet them. He warmly welcomed them to his castle, focusing his attention mostly on Dimitri. The Prince smiled when Sylvain’s mother embraced him, then kissed Felix on the cheek, making the usually stoic boy blush. The display of affection made Dimitri’s heart ache with his own loss. Byleth had noticed his mournful attitude and grasped his hand, raising his spirits a little.

They had spent the night in the guest quarters at Gautier Castle, Sylvain retiring to his childhood bedroom. In the morning they met with his father and his retainers, making a plan to eradicate the last hold-outs of Miklan’s bandits. Dimitri noted how Sylvain was unusually reserved during the discussion. Before they headed out to their mission, his father had handed him the Lance of Ruin, his family’s relic. With stoic resolve, Sylvain took the weapon, swearing to do his duty to keep the people of his realm safe.

On the battlefield Sylvain had been particularly brutal, owing in no small part to his new weapon. With the power of his Crest, the weapon sliced through each bandit like hot knife through butter. Even Felix was amazed at how quickly the usually jovial and lighthearted Sylvain cut the men down.

After the fighting, Sylvain had retired to his room. Ingrid and Felix, his oldest friends, had checked in on him frequently. Dimitri and Dedue decided to let them be alone, while the girls tended to each others wounds. Sylvain had been uncharacteristically subdued since having to kill his brother months ago, black beast or not. This was a stark reminder of the evils his brothers hubris has wrought against the people of Gautier.

Taking a day to rest and heal, they set out for the lands of old Duscur. Margrave Gautier had given them some new intel on the matter, his own lands being nearby. Apparently, the Duscurians had refused to speak to any Faerghian nobles up until now, but Dimitri and Dedue were confident they could get through to them.

When they arrived at Duscur, they noted with alarm at the men that the local lord had already amassed. If they were allowed to fight, they would undoubtedly wipe out the Duscurians left. Taking a single wyvern, Dimitri flew him and Dedue to the tent of the lead Duscurian warrior. Dedue had done his best to convince them not to fight, but it was Dimitri’s promise as Crown Prince to make a home for the surviving Duscur people that ultimately convinced them to stand down.

Upon returning to Gautier Castle, they had been surprised by Felix’s father, Lord Rodrigue. He had heard his son was in Faerghus, and had ridden all day to meet him before he had returned to Garreg Mach. Fraldarius apparently also had a bandit problem that needed to be solved, and Rodrigue wanted Felix to help solve it. Eager, as always, to practice his sword skills, Felix agreed. Dimitri also felt the urge to help, as Fraldarius was also part of the kingdom he would one day rule.

The bandits had been holed up in a small town, exploiting the locals and stealing their goods. It took even less effort than routing the bandits remaining from Miklan’s band, as these new ruffians were more willing to pick up and leave. By the end of the day, and the end of the tiresome week, emotions were running thin, and Felix exploded in rage upon his father.

Rodrigue had compared Felix to his older brother Glenn, whom had died defending Dimitri during the Tragedy of Duscur, immediately incensing his son. Felix’s seething words towards Rodrigue, the man Dimitri considered as a second father to him, burned into his mind: “How dare you say Glenn died like a true knight. He’s dead, his ideals don’t matter anymore. Only the living matter.” Dimitri was loathe to admit it, his own heart scarred by the deaths of his family, but Felix was right.

Exhausted, both mentally and physically, they took their time returning to Garreg Mach, taking two days instead of one. Realizing Sylvain could be trusted to be a gentleman after this difficult week, Dimitri allowed Mercedes to fly with him so he could be close to Byleth. The rest of their flight home, Dimitri held her tight, not caring if his house mates noted their closeness. Focused as they had been on the many mission they embarked upon, Dimitri had not tried to get her alone at any point. Once they were home, he hoped to rectify that.

The next few weeks went by in a blur as they prepared for the Battle of Eagle and Lion. Only once had he found time to ask Byleth to tea. Due to taking tea in the open garden, amongst all of the other students, he had only allowed himself to press his foot against hers under the table. Dimitri knew the dangerous game he played, courting his Professor, but he didn’t care. The woman was beautiful and strong, and he was enraptured by her.

The night before the mock battle, he had asked to escort her back to her room. She had agreed, and they chose to walk a long, more languid route that took them into a more secluded area of the garden. Understanding her wont for chastity, at least for this moment in time, Dimitri merely held her and kissed her gently on the lips. He desperately wanted to do more, to press her against the wall and rip her clothes off, but he knew there would be time for that in the future. If she needed him to, he would wait, he wanted her that badly.

When the day came for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, Dimitri felt resplendent in his chevalier’s armor, sitting astride his horse. Byleth stood on the promontory with the other Professors, as well as Lady Rhea and Lord Seteth. Before the he rode out onto Gronder Field, Dimitri has presented a blue handkerchief to Byleth, like noble Knights would to their ladies in times of old. His heart swelled with pride and affection as he noted the handkerchief in her hand, starkly contrasting her pale skin, even at this distance. Full of confidence, he led his Blue Lions into a charge against their rival Black Eagles.

The mock battle had gone relatively smoothly. The Black Eagles were defeated relatively quickly, with both the Blue Lions and Golden Deer attacking them from both sides. Dimitri himself took the final blow against Edelgard, toppling her with a satisfying thump in return for her breaking his arm at the first mock battle. He was less thrilled to spear the pleasant and friendly Claude, the head of the Golden Deer, with his padded lance. Though, the young man had managed to bruise him with a well placed padded arrow to his left shoulder first. Once Seteth had called the battle in favor of the Blue Lions, Dimitri jumped off his horse to help Claude to his feet, clasping the young man on the shoulder in camaraderie.

That night, at Claude’s insistence, they usual dinner service was treated like a grand feast. The kitchen staff, excited by the students’ enthusiasm, managed to prepare extra deserts and sides for the occasion. Dimitri was pleased to see Byleth engaging with the festivities, an uncharacteristically wide smile on her usually implacable face.

Nudging her, he told her, “You look so … happy. I love seeing you like this.” Looking around the room in apparent fear that she was being watched, Byleth looked to him with a more muted and soft smile. Bending closer, he whispered into her ear, “I suppose that look on your face is just another boon from this glorious day. Perhaps … the best one of all.”

“Shush you,” she said, smacking his shoulder playfully.

After the dinner, Dimitri insisted on walking her back to her room. As he stood with her in her doorway, he told her, “I had a wonderful time today.” He added, impishly, “As usual, I was astonished by how much you ate during the celebrations.” Looking into her eyes, he dropped his mirthful attitude. “Thanks to you, we won, you know.”

“Well,” she said sheepishly, holding his hands. “I wasn’t even on the battlefield. It was all of you, working together.”

Squeezing her hands in his, Dimitri said, “True, but it was your instruction that allowed us to reach our full potential.” Bending down, he pressed his forehead to hers affectionately. “I feel silly admitting this, especially after all we’ve … experienced together, but … when you first came to lead our class, you unnerved me.”

Upon hearing his confession, Byleth released his hands and stepped back. She looked into his eyes, concern on her face. “That stings,” she admitted, pain in her voice.

Attempting to salvage the moment, Dimitri placed his hands on her shoulders and said, “What I mean to say, is you’re different now. In the time we’ve spent together, I’ve seen your kindness and humanity shine through countless times.” Bending down to her level, he gently pressed his lips to hers. Every time he kissed her, it felt like the first. His heart raced with anticipation and wonder.

“I am truly grateful to have had the chance to spend this time with you,” he breathed as he released his kiss. Stepping back from her, he gave her space to open her door. “Until next time, my lady,” he said, watching her close the door.

Dimitri’s skin was tingling as he marched up to his room. This perfect day had a perfect ending. He had won the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, and the Professor was reciprocating his affection. If only every day could be this good, he mused as he retired for the evening.

Chapter 40: Seteth - Gronder Field

Summary:

Shamir asks Seteth some difficult questions about Flayn.

In the days following the Battle of Eagle and Lion, Seteth found himself feeling refreshed. The exercise had gone particularly well and he was proud of the performance of this year’s students. The weather had been ideal, the sky blue and the sun warm. Well, as warm as it could be for the late autumn.

During most of the exercise, Seteth had his eyes on his daughter. This was the first time since the Great War that Flayn had been on a battlefield, even if it were just a mock battle. Seteth hadn’t been sure what to expect, but Flayn was right, she was safest in learning to fight. Before her great slumber his daughter had been mainly focused on healing and defensive spells, which she still used to great effect. However, both at Professor Eisner’s insistence and Flayn’s own interest, his daughter had become adept in offensive magic as well.

Macuil would be proud, Seteth mused, watching his not-so-little girl throwing fireballs below him.

He had been pleasantly surprised when Byleth accompanied him, Rhea, and the other professors on the promontory above Gronder Field. Seteth was particularly enamored by how the wind whipped her hair and cloak around her lithe body. When he imagined her on the back of a wyvern, he had felt his the blood rising up his neck.

The soft smile on her face as she watched her students was etched into his memory. Byleth didn’t often display many emotions, but when she did, it was hard to miss. Seteth wished he could do more to make her smile, to illicit any reaction from her. Perhaps he should ask her to train with him again, having had particular success in getting her to smile the last time he met her in the training ring.

With that in mind, Seteth donned his training gambeson for his morning exercise. Before leaving, he checking in on Flayn, having adapted that habit after her abduction. His daughter was sleeping soundly. Seteth kissed her on the forehead before leaving their apartment.

As he was walking down the stairs to the training ground, Shamir intercepted him. If the spymaster was looking for him personally, it meant she had important news. He walked with her to his office before shutting the door behind them both.

“Shamir,” he said to her in acknowledgment, taking a sealed roll of paper from her. Breaking the seal, he read it quickly in her presence. The note detailed recent dates of strange happenings in the nearby Remire Village. Each date was after Flayn had been abducted.

“Is there anything else?” he asked, his eyes still on the missive.

“It seems you were correct,” said Shamir, crossing her arms. “Whoever took Flayn’s blood has begun to experiment with it.” Looking at him critically, she asked, “Are you going to tell me exactly why Flayn’s blood is special? Other than being able to poison people?”

Careful not to divulge too much of his own secrets, even his own spymaster, Seteth simply answered, “Flayn bears a major Crest.”

“But so do many of the students at the Officer’s Academy,” said Shamir, watching him critically.

Closing his eyes tight, Seteth pushed down the pain that speaking of Crests brought. “Yes, well, Flayn must have been … an easy target. Hopefully as she learns to fight alongside the Blue Lions she will be more able to protect herself.”

Even though he knew the truth of his words, Seteth couldn’t help but hate himself for letting his daughter be captured. He had spent nearly a millennium keeping her hidden away from these evils, and within the first year she was back in society she had been stolen from him. Thanks to Byleth he had his precious daughter back. He would forever be in her debt.

“Keep an eye on Remire. I will ask Captain Jeralt and Professor Byleth to prepare to travel there.” Looking to Shamir, he added, “From what I understand they have spent time in Remire? They likely have connections there.”

“Yes sir,” said Shamir, nodding her head. She closed the door to his office on her way out.

Looking at the missive once again, Seteth sank down into his office chair. Looking outside his window, he gauged whether he still had enough time to train before his meeting with Rhea, Byleth, and the Blue Lions. Grumbling, “Fuck it,” under his breath, he shoved the missive into his desk drawer, locking it with its small key.

Rolling his shoulders, Seteth left his office. He chose to walk quickly to the training grounds in case any other staff were looking for him. The morning air was crisp in the bright light of dawn. Thankful for the insulation of his gambeson, Seteth rubbed warmth into his naked hands.

Reaching the training grounds, he found the door ajar. Inside was the Fraldarius boy, practicing alone with a pell. Seteth smirked as he watched him: Felix was particularly adept at sword fighting. This young man is a rare talent, he mused to himself.

“Good morning Mr. Fraldarius,” spoke Seteth, loud enough so the boy could hear him over the sound of him hitting the pell. “I see you’re up early today.”

“Every day sir,” said the boy, not stopping his exercise. “I must always strive to get stronger.”

“I see,” said Seteth, stepping over to where the training weapons were held. Choosing a sword, instead of his customary spear, Seteth asked, “Do you mind if I join you?”

Felix paused to look his way. “I thought you favored the spear?”

Swinging the sword about to get a feel for its weight, Seteth answered, “I do, but I train with all weapons. As should you, if you want to become a true master.” Pointing his sword to the boy, he asked, “Shall we begin?”

A wide smile on his young face, Felix answered, “With pleasure, sir.”

Chapter 41: Byleth - Offices

Summary:

Byleth overhears a private conversation between her father and his lover.

Notes:

Content warning: discussions of pregnancy.

I know some people may be annoyed with my use of content warnings, but I know that people have different traumas and I want to respect that. Besides, I see this like TV show or video game ratings warnings. This chapter's warning for example, regarding pregnancy, I put it in because I know most of the readers on here are women, and many, many women have experienced pregnancy related traumas. I myself went through an emergency c-section, and as much as that sucked, it still resulted in a very healthy birth for both me and baby. I know mothers and fathers have gone through much worse than me and my husband have, and I want to respect that.

Byleth trudged up the stairs to the second floor of the main hall of Garreg Mach. She was having a terrible day, her students were being rowdy and just not listening to her. Even though the Battle of Eagle and Lion had been over a week ago, they were still high with the excitement of their win. Sylvain had been the worst, completely convinced that any girl in a mile’s radius would be interested in him just for participating.

Dimitri had done his best to rein everyone in, but Felix had just shouted him down and challenged him to a duel, causing Byleth to use her time-travel powers in a rare moment outside of battle. Thirty seconds was enough time to grab Dimitri and pull him from the room before attempting to control the crowd. Through with the chaos, Byleth just commanded the students to just stop and go back to their rooms like they were small children.

After making sure that everyone was alone in their rooms, Byleth took some time to run laps to attempt to calm down. Once the sun had begun to set, and her lungs were burning more than her emotions, she decided to talk to her father. Jeralt was not only a leader, but he was her father, and she wanted his input right now. She felt like a foolish child, unable to be a teacher, and wanted his input, even if it were of the “tough love” variety. Her Dad was a master of “tough love”.

Besides, he had been telling her how he had been wanting to talk to her privately for a week or so now.

Upon reaching the second floor, she navigated her way towards her father’s office. All of the doors to the other high level staff were closed and the lights were dim, letting Byleth know that most had either retired for the night, or were still at the dining hall having a late dinner. Byleth was, however, surprised to discover that her father’s door was slightly ajar, soft light peaking through.

Reaching his door, she put her knuckles up to the door frame to announce her presence with a knock, but stopped when she heard a loud slap sound. “How dare you, you oaf!” roared Manuela’s voice from inside her father’s office. “I’ve only been with you since we started sleeping together!”

Sleeping together? she thought in surprise, a blush creeping up her neck.

After witnessing their tender moment together in the infirmary after saving Manuela, Flayn, and that strange girl Monica, Byleth had her suspicions. However, like most daughters, she did not want to think about her father’s romantic life. Holding her breath, Byleth inched closer to the door, wanting to hear more but not wanting to get caught.

“Well, it was a reasonable question, wasn’t it?” said her father’s voice in a measured tone. “You’re always flirting with any man that passes by, even the students some times.”

“Flirting is not cheating!” growled Manuela. “I swear to you, this baby is yours. And when he, or she, comes out, they’ll have a dirty blond mop on their head just like yours to prove it!”

Baby!? Manuela’s pregnant!? Byleth covered her mouth so she wouldn’t gasp in surprise.

“Calm down woman,” said Jeralt, his voice muffled by distance and the door. “I believe you. I’m just surprised that you, you know, didn’t deal with it before telling me.”

Another slap.

After a beat, Jeralt grumbled, “Will you stop doing that?”

“How DARE you!” shouted Manuela, loud enough that Byleth could have heard it through the door. “I am a grown woman! I can make my own choices! Besides, I am thirty-six years old, Jeralt Eisner. This may be my one and only chance to be a mother, and by the Goddess, I am going to take it!”

After a long pause, Byleth heard her father’s voice again, though she strained to hear it. “Okay,” he said, terribly quietly.

“Okay?” asked Manuela, her tone shocked but quiet. “What do you mean, okay?”

“I mean,” said her father, “Okay, you’re having a baby. I mean, we are, I guess. It’s been a long time, but I think I can manage.”

“You don’t have to stay,” mumbled Manuela, her voice muffled. It was getting hard for Byleth to hear, so she opened the door a crack more and peered inside. Her father was holding the professor, patting her short, brown hair.

“Of course I do,” said the older man into the top of the woman’s hair. “How heartless do you think I could be, to leave a child of my own flesh without a father.”

“What about Byleth, what would she say?” asked Manuela, pressing into Jeralt’s chest.

Jeralt gave a small chortle. “I don’t know, she’s a quiet one. She’s still getting used to being around so many people, I just hope she doesn’t think this would be a replacement for her. But,” he said, kissing his woman on the top of her head, “I wouldn’t worry about it. You’ve seen how well she’s taken to being a teacher, I’m sure being a sister wouldn’t be too much more.”

Seeing them beginning to shift, afraid they would see her, Byleth bolted. She went for the first door she could see, turned the knob, and opened it, quickly but gently. Without looking to see which office she had stolen into, she shut the door, softly so that it couldn’t be heard, and locked it.

“What on Fodlan are you doing, Miss Eisner?” came a stern voice from behind her. Goddess be damned, of course she ran into Seteth’s office. His office was across the hall from her father’s, she really shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Shh,” she said, holding a finger to her lips, terrified either Manuela or her father would hear him. He must have heard Manuela shouting, but made no mention of it. Granted, the walls were made of stone in this building, it was much older than the dormitories.

Chapter 42: Seteth - Office

Summary:

Byleth confides in Seteth during an emotional, private moment.

Notes:

Content warning: discussions of pregnancy.

Seteth crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, looking at the young woman in consternation. What was she doing here, in his office, at this time of night. Playing hide and go seek? Sometimes the students played such silly games, and he didn’t mind too much, if they weren’t being disruptive, but she was a professor and should have been more mature. He could feel frustration bubbling in his chest.

Waiting for her to come away from the door, Seteth silently directed her to sit in the chair across from his desk with his hand, his palm up. He was thoroughly annoyed. Not expecting visitors, he was wearing only his undershirt with the sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone.

While the young woman took the time to sit, Seteth rolled his sleeves down to cover the Nabatean tattoos on his forearms. Most assumed his formal attire was a reflection of his stern demeanor. In reality, he wore such clothing to conceal his tattoos and, by extension, his heritage. Her tattoos were also one of the reasons he insisted Flayn cover herself so thoroughly, even though she had far less than he did.

Thankfully, he had gotten used to wearing his hair loose over his ears, so the points weren’t visible. Seteth’s circlet sat to the side on his desk. His customary formal doublet was hung up on the coat rack near the door to his office. Seteth tried not to notice how the young woman's eyes quickly glanced at his bare chest, partially visible through his unbuttoned shirt. He hoped that, in the dim light, she didn't notice the blue-green tattoos adorning his skin.

Seteth also chose to ignore how she was only wearing a loose training tunic and hose, soaked with sweat. Her sweet, healthy, feminine sweat filled his nostrils every time he took a breath. It had been many, many years since he felt such enjoyment from a woman’s scent.

Gently rubbing the stress from his eyes, Seteth asked, “May I ask, again, what are you doing in my office at this time of night, Miss Eisner? And why are you covered in sweat?”

“Oh, that, I was running,” she said, looking down to herself, her cheeks reddening. “I do that when I’m upset. You see … my students … they were being really rowdy today and … well … I needed to blow off steam.”

Seteth exhaled and brought his hand from his eyes to look at her, making a concerted effort to look at her face. She was looking down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap. “And, is that why you’ve come, to talk to me about your students?”

“Um, no,” she began, looking at the shut door. “I, um … I’m hiding from Manuela.”

Seteth blinked in surprise and coughed a laugh. “Really? I thought perhaps you might indulge your students, but Professor Manuela is definitely too old to be playing hide and seek.”

“Hide and seek?” asked Byleth. “What?” Cluing into what he meant, she shook her head. “Oh, no, we weren’t playing.” Byleth and Seteth sat in silence for many long moments until she spoke up again, “Um, Seteth, can you keep a secret?”

Yet again surprised, Seteth looked at the young woman. His heart softening, he leaned over, placing his clasped hands on the desk. “Of course, Miss Eisner,” he said, “After what you did to help Flayn … to help me, I am in your debt. Whatever you wish to tell me will not leave this room.”

Mimicking his position, Byleth placed her own hands on the desk, though gripping her own hands in a tighter clasp than his. “Um, okay, um …” Her face was beet red and she couldn’t appear to come up with the words.

Seteth gently grasped one of her hands with his own, causing her to look up to him. “You also don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just know I’m here if you want to talk.” Goddess, her hand was so delicate and warm. He had not noticed how comfortably it rested in his before, or how much he enjoyed holding it.

Her demeanor relaxing, she said softly, “This isn’t really my secret, but I need to talk to someone about it.” Her eyes darted from his, to the door, and back. “You see, I just overheard Manuela and, um,” she swallowed, and continued, “And my father talking. I think she’s, um …”

While looking at him, Byleth’s face flickered with emotion before shifting back to her usual stone. Staring at their hands, she whispered, “I think she’s going to have a baby.”

Seteth was not expecting that answer. Resisting the urge to pull his hand away, he blinked a few times and inhaled. Searching for what to say, he settled on, “And, is that upsetting to you? That your father might have another child?”

Byleth blinked and pulled her hand away, looking at Seteth. “Um, no, it’s just, I didn’t even know they were together. Like, I saw them kiss, but …”

Taking a deep breath, appearing to steel herself, she looked right into his eyes and asked, “And pregnancy, well, it’s really, really scary, isn’t it?”

Seteth sat back and scratched his chin. “I guess it can be? But Manuela is an adult, and a healer, and as far I know has helped deliver several babies herself. She knows what she’s getting into.” He could see that the notion was bothering Byleth, but he wasn’t sure why. “What is your worry?”

“I don’t know,” she said, staring into her lap. “That my father is too old to parent a little baby? That they hid their relationship from me? That this baby will die and it will hurt them both deeply? That,” she took a deep breath, blinking her eyes. “That Manuela will die in childbirth, like so many women do?” Even though Seteth could tell she was thoroughly upset, she didn’t show much emotion on her stony visage.

Ah, thought Seteth, that must be a deep seated fear of hers.

At that moment a thought flashed through his mind, making him both blush and upset with himself for even considering it. However, he needed to ask, because the idea shifted his entire concept of who Byleth was if it were true. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he said softly, “Have you never been with anyone before?”

The momentary shocked and embarrassed look she shot him was enough of an answer.

Smiling softly, he continued, “I expected as much, though not until recently. When I met you I thought you were much more … ah … familiar with men, based solely on your confidence, and the way you dressed. I apologize for that.”

Giving her a sly smile, Seteth added, “I have many secrets of my own, and I am willing to tell you one if you promise not to repeat it outside this office.”

Her face outwardly dull, he suspected as a mask to hide her whirling emotions, she replied, “Deal.”

Pushing back from his desk, Seteth stood and turned to look out the ancient window. “It has been many, many years since I have been with a woman myself. I find all of these little flings and romances going on throughout the staff and students of the academy annoying at times, overwhelming at others.

“That is to say, Miss Eisner,” he said, looking to her. “I understand how you feel. To be outside the goings-on of those around you, to feel left out, but not wanting to be part of it either.”

Seteth walked up around his desk and held out his hand, like he had on the first day they met. She took his hand and stood up, looking into his eyes as she did so. He would expect any other girl to cry, but Byleth just stood there, her expression impassive. Seteth could sense her emotions, boiling beneath the surface of her stony mask, but he knew she was too fragile in this moment of fear to let them out. Instead of a swift release, the pressure would break her, and he didn’t want her to feel even more distress.

Staring down at their hands, clasped together in the moonlight, Seteth rubbed his thumb against her knuckles, in what he hoped was a soothing way. “Do not worry for Manuela, or your father,” he whispered. “Children are a blessing, no matter the age.”

Lifting his head, he looked to her, drinking up her beauty in the moonlight. He lips were parted and her full eyes were looking back at him. Staring at her soft, naturally pink lips, he licked his own, imagining how it would feel to kiss them.

Sensing himself begin to lean in, he abruptly stood tall and dropped her hand. “Now,” he said, more roughly than he meant, “It appears to be after curfew. Allow me to escort you back to your room.” Grabbing his doublet from the rack, he quickly threw it on, leaving the buttons undone. Placing his circlet on his head, he led Byleth through his office door.

Thankfully, they encountered no one except a few night guards. Seteth struggled to keep his eyes forward, fearing that a glance at Byleth might unravel his composure. When they reached her door, he turned to face her. Her expression was somber, her eyes weary. With a gentle smile, he grasped her shoulder warmly. She looked at him and returned the smile, albeit sadly.

Gently nudging her towards her room, Seteth said, “Good night, Miss Eisner.” He waited at the bottom of the steps and watched as she entered her room.

“Good night, Seteth,” she returned, offering him a gentle smile as she shut the door. This time, he did not immediately hear her lock it.

Content that she was back in her room, Seteth straightened his back and began the journey to his own quarters. Part of him felt relief knowing she was safe within the confines of her room, yet another part longed to have stayed with her. Or perhaps to have kept her in his office a little while longer. Alas, as she had confided in him, she might appear mature and worldly, but in this aspect, she was still just a girl. Seteth held too much respect for her to take advantage of the situation.

In the darkness, Seteth had not noticed the young man in the second story window, watching him as he walked back towards the Entrance Hall and the offices above.

Chapter 43: Dimitri - Dormitory

Summary:

Dimitri is enraged when he sees Seteth escort Byleth home to the dormitories.

Notes:

Content warning: destructive anger.

Dimitri stood by the window in his dormitory room, opting to use the bright light of the full moon to read instead of a candle. He was still put off by how poorly his classmates had been behaving earlier that day. When everyone was told to go back to their rooms, even the decidedly adult Sylvain, Dimitri decided to go as well.

Despite already being 20 years old, Sylvain was often one to behave the most childish, if only to work up Ingrid and Felix. Today, however, Felix just seemed to have a bug up his rear; everything pissed him off. When Dimitri had tried telling the other boy off, Felix just swung for him, causing the Professor to use that uncanny speed of hers to move him out of the way of the training sword. Even Flayn was sent home, much to Dimitri’s surprise. The only Blue Lions member not scolded was Mercedes, and only because she had been off doing her rounds at the infirmary.

In the moonlight Dimitri was going over another book about financial records he had found in the library. It was terribly dry, but it had confirmed his previous suspicions: Lord Arundel was not supporting the church anymore, in any way other than name. Neither were several other nobles who had been in the past. Dimitri wondered how the Church was maintaining funds after having lost so much support from the nobility. Granted, there was the tuition from the Officer’s Academy, and the taxes brought in from the villages and farms within Garreg Mach’s dominion, but it still didn’t seem like enough. Something very strange was going on.

Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Dimitri looked up from his book. On the cobblestone pathway below his room two figures were walking. Dimitri wasn’t often one for watching the comings and goings of his fellows living in the dormitories, but this time he noted with glee that it was his beloved returning home. Glee turned to anger when he saw the other figure, who he determined to be Administrator Seteth, reach out and touch her.

What is that old man doing touching my woman!?

Dimitri felt burn of the rage behind that thought, but was too preoccupied with what he was witnessing to tamp it down. Gripping the book tightly in his hand, he continued to watch the two through his window.

The longer Byleth, his Byleth, stood staring at the older man, the deeper and deeper Dimitri’s rage grew. Not sure what to expect, Dimitri breathed out a little when Byleth walked away from Seteth into her own dorm room. Seteth, however, remained for a long moment, watching her, before turning to walk back to the main building.

He wants her, Dimitri realized, seething. That old paper pusher wants my woman!? I will make him pay for the insolence! It didn’t matter to Dimitri in that moment that, despite being Crown Prince of Faerghus, not only was Seteth not his subject, but he also ran the school in which he was currently attending.

Dimitri threw the book he was holding to the floor, fully prepared to run after the Administrator. As he slammed the door open, Sylvain was dashing through his own door, wearing only his underclothes. “Dimitri!” exclaimed the red-haired young man in a mild panic. “What’s wrong? I heard a loud bang!?” Dedue appeared moments later, running up the stairs from street level.

“Your Highness!” asked Dedue in alarm, “What happened? I heard a loud noise from my ceiling.”

Grumbling, Dimitri waved them off. Not wanting them to see him go, he spat in annoyance, “It’s nothing, nevermind.”

“Right,” grunted Sylvain, looking to Dedue. “Well, since Dedue’s here, and you’re not bleeding, I’m going to go back to my beauty sleep.”

“Thank you, Sylvain,” said Dedue, nodding to the other man. Gently, he guided Dimitri back into his own room, shutting the door behind him. As the Prince sat down on his bed, Dedue found a candle to light. “So, do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what,” grumbled Dimitri, pulling his boots off. He did his best to ignore his friend’s worried stare.

Dedue pointed to the half destroyed book laying on the floor near the window. Dimitri had thrown it hard enough to burst the binding and several pages lay scattered. “About why you threw that book hard enough to wake up Sylvain?”

Dimitri snorted, pulling his socks off. “Do you really think he was sleeping? Did you take a look in his room? Probably had a girl in there.”

“This isn’t about Sylvain,” said Dedue, crossing his arms.

“No,” sighed Dimitri, laying back on his bed. “It’s not.”

“Well, will you tell me what it’s about?”

“I just … saw the Professor return to her room. With … another man.” He didn’t want to reveal to Dedue that the other man was Administrator Seteth.

“And,” said Dedue calmly, “Is that other man in her room with her right now?”

Dimitri shot Dedue a look of consternation, then stared back at the ceiling. “No, he left when she went inside.”

“Then he was just escorting her home, you’d do the same for any of the girls of the Blue Lions.” Dedue pulled the Prince’s pajamas from his wardrobe and placed them on his bed. He was only a year older than him, but Dedue treated him like a much younger brother at times. Dimitri wasn’t sure if he appreciated it or not. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“If you say so,” grunted Dimitri. He didn’t believe it, but he wanted Dedue to leave him to think. “If you don’t mind, Dedue, I need to get to bed. So do you.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” said Dedue, giving him a small bow.

Once Dedue left his room, Dimitri began to prepare for sleep. He was still seething, trying to devise a way to approach Seteth. Speaking to him in his office wouldn't work; there were too many teachers and staff around to overhear. Sometimes the older man trained early in the mornings, perhaps that would be the best time to confront him. Dimitri spent many hours formulating plans before sleep finally found him.

Chapter 44: Byleth - Dormitory

Summary:

Byleth overhears the boys shouting in the dormitory.

Byleth's heart fluttered as she bid Seteth farewell. He stood at the bottom of her steps, bathed in the radiant glow of the full moon. The blue moonlight accentuated his masculine features, highlighting his broad shoulders and slim waist. His emerald hair gleamed almost black in the night. She nearly wished he had followed her into her room.

Giving him a soft smile, Byleth closed her door. She knew he was waiting for her to do so, as protective as he was. Or was he just being polite? When he had touched her, squeezed her shoulder, it was definitely in affection, wasn’t it? His eyes had lingered on hers, hadn’t they?

Sothis giggled in her head, “I told you he liked you.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she hummed.

Standing there, lost in thought, she jumped when she heard a loud “thump” from above. Had Sylvain dropped something? she wondered, knowing the young man’s bedroom was above hers.

“What was that?” asked the voice in her head. “Do you think it was the red-haired boy?” The voice added coyly, “Or one of his guests?”

Once in a while Byleth could hear extra footsteps and the shifting of his bed-frame, choosing to ignore it because he was, after all, an adult. As long as his partner was also an adult, Byleth had no issue with his night-time activities. Sylvain might be a womanizer, but he did have some honor.

Byleth had initially been surprised to find out Sylvain was 19 at the beginning of the school year, having turned 20 soon after. Apparently he had waited to enroll so he could attend alongside his childhood friends. At first, Byleth had found him being older odd, then she found out that Mercedes was even old, well into her 20s. Byleth suspected that Mercedes was even older than she was.

When she heard a door slam and Sylvain’s voice shouting, Byleth instantly grew concerned that one of his romantic entanglements had gone south. Then she heard the distinct but muffled voices of Dimitri and Dedue, and her heart stopped. What were the young men shouting about at this hour?

Her heart sank, and ice filled her veins at the realization. That “thump” hadn’t come from Sylvain’s room, but from further down the hall. It must have been Dimitri. He must have seen Seteth leaving her at her door.

Byleth knew the young Prince had a temper; Felix had warned her about it. Up until now she hadn’t been worried about being on the receiving. But he had a right to be angry with her, didn’t he? Dimitri was courting her, or something like that; she wasn’t sure what else to call it. Her lips still burned with the memory of his last kiss, while fear churned in her belly. Byleth was a fantastic fighter, confident in her skills, but she never wanted to have to use those skills on someone she was ... entangled with.

Trembling, she locked her door. She didn't want Dimitri or anyone else to confront her tonight. Unsure of what to do next, she lit a small candle and sat at her desk. Cutting a new quill, she dipped it into her nearly empty ink pot and began to write in her journal.

Chapter 45: Seteth - Training Grounds

Summary:

A jealous Dimitri attacks Seteth during a sparring match.

Notes:

Content warning: violence.

Seteth woke with the sun, as he usually did, though the sun was rising later and later these days. Kissing his daughter goodbye, he made his way down to the training yard, eager to practice with his lance. He was delighted to see a student already there, also practicing his lance techniques.

Prince Dimitri stood out as one of the finest polearm fighters at the Officer's Academy this year. Seteth had only had the pleasure of working with him a handful of times, but each encounter had been much too easy. Dimitri's rare talent was evident, and Seteth found satisfaction in seeing the Prince take extra steps to hone his formidable skills.

“Good morning!” called Seteth as he entered the training yard, the chill morning air causing his breath to mist. The Prince turned to him, his face initially unreadable before turning into a wide grin.

“Hello, Administrator,” greeted the Prince, resting the dull end of his spear in the arena sand. “I was hoping to catch you. Flayn told me you like to train early in the morning, but this is the first I’ve seen you at the training grounds this week.”

“You must forgive me, Your Highness,” said Seteth, searching for a spear of similar length as the Prince’s. “With both monastery and academy staff to oversee, especially with the various reports coming from Remire, I haven’t been able to make the time.” Taking a spear he liked, Seteth hefted its weight and turned to Dimitri. “Did you want some one-on-one training? I know you favor the spear.”

“Something like that,” said the Prince, his jovial tone almost sounding forced. Taking his spear, Dimitri performed another one of the forms he was practicing while Seteth was walking in. Standing with his feet shoulder width apart, holding his spear with both hands, Dimitri thrust the tip forward. Watching with a critical eye, Seteth noted in satisfaction how the Prince’s movements were perfect, his spear constantly perpendicular to the ground.

“Good,” said Seteth, “Can you show me a parry and thrust?” Seteth prepared his own spear to attack the Prince to test the basic move.

Grinning, Dimitri returned to his balanced stand, holding his spear with both hands. “Whenever you’re ready, Administrator,” he said, his voice in a challenging tone.

Holding the spear lightly, Seteth struck forth. Dimitri's counter was far stronger than he had anticipated, nearly disarming him. When the Prince executed the thrust portion of the maneuver, it was so forceful that Seteth leapt back, expecting to be hit. “Well, you clearly know the basics,” he remarked.

“You knew that already,” huffed Dimitri, whipping his spear back around expertly to return the beginning stance. “Everyone says you are the best polearm expert in the entirety of Garreg Mach. But I’ve never seen you spar with anyone, just teach. Care to change that?”

“If you trained in the morning more often, you’d see me spar, once in a while. In fact, I’ve even sparred with your Professor. She’s quite good, though that is to be expected.” Smirking at the boy, Seteth whipped his own spear about, showing off his own skills. “Fine, I will spar with you. First one grounded loses.”

Before he made a verbal reply, the Prince aimed his spear at Seteth’s chest, rapidly thrusting forward. Anticipating the basic opener, Seteth parried the attack to the side. The wood of the poles clashed and made a loud “crack” that resonated throughout the training arena.

Without missing a beat, Seteth swept the dull end of his spear low, aiming to trip the Prince. Dashing to the side, Dimitri narrowly avoided the attack. Using the momentum from his dash, Dimitri spun as he jumped, bringing his spear down towards Seteth’s head.

Goddess be damned, he’s actually trying to hurt me!? Seteth thought as he blocked the wild slash with the shaft of his spear. Dimitri’s attack was so powerful that Seteth could feel his own spear crack slightly.

As quickly as he could muster, using his super-human speed to his advantage, Seteth took the dull end of his spear and butted it into Dimitri’s belly. The Prince only bent over for a split-second, but it was enough for Seteth to dash out of his spear’s range. Recalculating the boy’s true skill, and his true motive for the fight, Seteth realized that this may not just be a simple sparring session anymore.

As they continued for the next several minutes, mostly with Seteth dodging the Prince’s wild thrusts and slashes, a crowd formed. Most were students who were also keen to train early in the morning. Seteth noted the bright orange of Ferdinand, the best polearm fighter of the Black Eagles, and the bright yellow raiments of Claude, the leader of the Golden Deer. There were others there, but he didn’t have enough time to note who they were while trying to keep Dimitri at bay.

“Go on Administrator,” whooped the usually reserved Felix, “Show the Boar who’s boss!”

“You can do it princeling!” called Claude, clearly more interested in the atmosphere of the thrilling fight than backing Dimitri.

Others jeered and hollered, but Seteth forced himself to ignore them. They don’t understand that he’s actually aiming to harm me, the fools.

Seeing that he needed to end this charade before one of Dimitri’s wild swings hit another student by accident, Seteth watched for the now obvious sign of the Prince beginning one such swing. Seizing the opportunity, Seteth feinted a dodge, instead to sweep his own spear in a powerful arc to make contact with the inside of Dimitri’s forearm.

Momentarily caught off guard and off balance, Dimitri was unable to maintain his balance as Seteth’s spear swept his legs out from under him. Dimitri landed with a thud, his spear rolling from his hands. Felix darted out to grab it, and Seteth wondered if the boy saw that his liege had been fighting in earnest, not just sparring.

Taking his opportunity, Seteth held his own spear with both hands and pressed the pole to Dimitri’s throat. “Yield!” he shouted at the boy. As Dimitri attempted to get up, Seteth pressed his left knee into the boy’s chest. “YIELD!” he shouted again, feeling the dragon rage coming through his words.

Dimitri must have noticed the unnatural timbre of the older man’s voice because he froze, staring up into Seteth’s eyes. Seeing the boy finally settle, Seteth took his knee from the boy’s torso, not wanting to injure him. Keeping the spear shaft near Dimitri’s throat, Seteth asked once more for him to yield.

“I yield,” said the Prince, his voice small.

Fatigued from the frantic fight, Seteth stood up and took a deep breath. Without stopping to help the Prince up, he turned to the students watching on the sidelines. “All of you, to your classrooms! The training grounds are closed for the rest of the day.” Looking to the Prince, he added, “And as for you, you are to remain confined to your quarters until further notice.”

Noticing Felix stay behind while the other students left, Seteth took the opportunity to ask him, “Can you escort him to the baths so he may wash before his confinement? Or find that large vassal of his to do so? What was his name again?”

“Dedue, sir,” replied Felix, standing with his arms crossed, watching Seteth with curiosity. “You heard the man, boar,” growled Felix, not looking at his Prince. “To the baths with you.”

Choosing not to help his Prince up, Felix merely waited as Dimitri picked himself up off the ground. As the Prince walked past him, Felix said to Seteth, “That was better even than the Professor. Think I could get a private lesson sometime?”

“As long as you don’t act as recklessly as Dimitri just did,” chortled Seteth, walking to put his spear away.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Felix, following Dimitri out of the grounds. “I’m not insane.” Dimitri made a comment in reply to Felix’s words. Even with his super-human hearing, Seteth couldn’t make out what the Prince had said. Felix graciously closed the doors to the training grounds behind him, leaving Seteth alone.

“What in all the hells was that about,” Seteth wondered. Grabbing a towel, he wiped the sweat from his brow. At that very moment he wished he could remove his circlet, the gold metal chafing against his sweaty skin. “Goddess dammit,” he muttered, heading for Rhea’s private bathhouse.

Chapter 46: Flayn - Dining Hall

Summary:

Flayn hears about the fight her father had with the head of her house and discusses with him about it.

Sitting at a long dining hall table with a bowl of warm oatmeal before her, Flayn stifled a wide yawn. She’d been up terribly late the night before, celebrating Linhardt’s birthday in the library. For the occasion, she’d gifted him a book on the flora and fauna of the Almyran desert. It was a duplicate from her father’s collection, making it an easy choice to part with.

To her delight, Linhardt had shown more energy and enthusiasm than she’d ever seen from him upon receiving the book. They’d spent hours poring over it together, completely absorbed until well past midnight.

Just as she took another bite of oatmeal, the dining hall doors burst open with Claude's loud and animated voice leading the way, already halfway through a story. Even without her super-human hearing, Flayn could tell it was about a fight. She listened in, curiosity piqued, though her eyes and hands remained fixed on her breakfast

“And then Seteth floored him and it was all over!” exclaimed the Golden Deer leader, laughing with glee. “It was one of the best matches I’ve ever seen! I wonder what the Administrator would be like on the battlefield.”

He would be terrifying, thought Flayn, memories of her father fighting in the Great War flashing before her eyes. Shaking the images from her mind, determined to remain in the present, Flayn looked over to where Claude and several others had entered.

Walking over, she asked, “My brother was fighting? When? Who?”

“Just now,” said Ferdinand, as excited as Claude. “Him and Prince Dimitri were sparring in the training grounds. Except, it was way more intense than any match I’ve ever been in.”

“Was it?” asked Flayn, her heart racing. “Was my brother hurt?”

“I don’t think so?” said Claude, “But then again, they were fighting before we arrived. He sure did choke the Prince pretty good though.”

“Choke!?” squeaked Flayn, surprised that her father would choke anyone.

“Like, with his spear,” explained Claude. “Had it pressed against the Prince’s throat. Dimitri wouldn’t stop fighting until he yelled at him though. Now that I think about it, there was something strange about that yell …”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just imagining it,” commented Flayn quickly, trying to get the boys to think about anything else. If Father used his dragon voice … that can’t be good …

Curtseying to the two noble boys, Flayn said, “Please excuse me,” before leaving the dining hall. Trying to appear composed, she made her way through the main reception hall to the stairs. Once concealed by the privacy of the staircase, she dashed up to the third floor.

First, she checked their quarters for her father, but finding him absent, she headed to Lady Rhea’s private baths. Upon seeing her father’s emerald hair peaking out from the above the bathing pool, she sighed in relief. Wanting to give him a modicum of privacy, Flayn grabbed a large towel and walked forward.

“Father,” she said to announce her presence, carefully back from the pool. Lady Rhea’s private bath was small, but it was deep enough that more than one person could sit comfortably with their shoulders submerged. On more than one occasion she had bathed with her father, though they remained wrapped in towels for modesty. It was also one of the only places they felt safe speaking plainly.

Seteth flinched and turned around, carefully keeping most of his body beneath the water. “Ah, Flayn,” he said, “Were you looking for me?” His normally wavy emerald hair was flat to his head with water, allowing his pointed ears to peak through. The tattoos on his shoulders and upper chest seemed to glow against the blue light reflecting up from the water of the bathing pool.

Flayn still found his heavily tattooed body strange to look at. He had always been tattooed, as had all Nabatean adults she remembered, but now he was absolutely covered. From what he had told her, as more and more Nabateans fell during the Great War, her father and her uncles would take their clan signs and tattoo them on themselves as a way to honor the fallen. To remember them. The only skin free from tattoos on her father’s skin were the negative space from the tattoo designs. That, and places he couldn’t cover, like his face or hands.

Flayn had her own tattoos, though nowhere near as many as her father, and presumably her uncles. Her tattoos were simple lines and swirls that mimicked jewelry, circling her upper check, arms, and legs. Even so, Seteth required she dress modestly like he did so no one could see the ink on her body.

“I heard that you got into a fight with Dimitri?” she asked, placing the towel near the edge of the pool. “Are you hurt? Do you need healing?”

“No, no,” he said, moving to the edge of the pool to grab the towel. “But it was an intense fight. You heard about it from the students I presume?” Seteth waited for his daughter to turn before extricating himself from the pool.

“Yes,” she said, waiting for her father to wrap the towel about himself. “Claude and Ferdinand were boasting about how it was ‘the best match they had ever seen’ in the dining hall. They also said you made a strange yell?”

“That is true, unfortunately. I had to use my dragon voice to get through to the boy. He was a wild man.” As her father came into view, towel fully covering his waist and most of his legs, he asked her, “You are in Dimitri’s house. Do you have any idea why he would want to hurt me?”

Flayn paused to think, giving her father enough time to find another towel to dry his hair. “I’m not sure? He’s usually so friendly and nice and …” Then it clicked: the Prince was particularly friendly with a certain Professor.

Blushing, Flayn asked Seteth, “Um, Father, have you been spending much time with Professor Byleth recently?”

Blinking in confusion, Seteth looked to his daughter. “Whatever do you mean? She comes to speak with me in my office sometimes, but so do many other staff members. Sometimes it’s late and I will walk her back to her room in the dormitories, but that’s about it.”

Flayn groaned, annoyed with her father’s ignorance. “Dimitri must have seen you! His room is right above Byleth’s!”

“Why should that matter?” he asked, staring at her incredulously.

“How is this not obvious to you? It’s because he fancies her, of course!”

“But that’s ridiculous! She’s his professor!” he sputtered. “Besides,” he said in a quieter tone, “She’s not the kind to dally with, well, anyone.” Holding the towel against his head, he looked off into the distance. Flayn could see the muscles flex in her father’s jaw, his shoulders tense, almost in anger.

Flayn gasped as she put two and two together. “Oh my Goddess! You like her!”

“Shush!” he said, much too harshly. “I do not, she is merely one of my staff.” Flayn knew her father well, knew him better than any other living soul, and knew that to be a blatant lie. She also knew that this was not the time to pick at that sore.

“As you wish, father,” she said, giving him a curtsey. Usually Seteth did not like when Flayn was overly formal to him, but this time he let it go. Clearly her father was consumed by his own thoughts, and he wasn’t ready to share them. Leaving him to clothe in privacy, Flayn headed towards her classroom.

Part of Flayn felt strange knowing her father had feelings for a woman other than her mother, but she was also glad. Even if her mother’s death was only a few years fresh for her, due to her time in the healing stasis sleep, for her father it was many centuries. As far as Flayn knew, her father had not taken a lover in all that time, having spent it protecting her and collecting fables.

This Byleth must truly be special to get through to his cold heart, she thought as she walked down the hall.

Chapter 47: Byleth - Classroom

Summary:

Byleth hears about the fight between Seteth and Dimitri. When she goes to speak with the Administrator about it, they have a private moment.

Notes:

Thank you all so much for reading! Until I catch up with where I was at story-wise previously I'll keep posting several chapters a night. This particular chapter had a bunch of changes so this is the last one for today.

Sitting at the desk at the front of the room, Byleth drank her tea while going over her lesson plan. She had found a relatively recent map of the village of Remire and was going to work with her students on various battle scenarios. As per usual, students started to trickle in just before the official class start time.

Hearing less movement than usual, she looked up to see several students missing. Mercedes and Annette were giggling together over something in a notebook, and Ingrid and Ashe were chatting about knightly fairytales. The only other student who had arrived and sat down was Sylvain, yawning and stretching his arms.

“Is that it?” asked Byleth, consternation clear on her voice.

“Is what it Professor?” asked Annette, clearly surprised by her Professor’s candor.

Byleth motioned to the classroom, causing the students to look around the room. “Where’s the rest of the Blue Lions? A mission I wasn’t told about?” As she was speaking, Felix walked through the door, a scowl on his face.

“Mr Fraldarius,” said Byleth in her most teacherly tone, still surprised at how authoritative she could make herself sound, “It is unlike you to be late to class. Did something happen?”

“You could say that,” snorted Felix, finding a seat next to Sylvain. “The boar got himself grounded, I had to … deal with it.”

“Grounded?” guffawed Sylvain, “What could he have done? And who grounded him?”

“Seteth,” said Felix, opening his notebook in front of him. Byleth’s blood ran cold at the boy’s words. “The idiot thought it would be a good idea to attack him in the training arena this morning, or something like that.” Felix looked up to Byleth and gave her a wide smile. “You should have seen it Professor, Seteth knocked the boar on his back and scared the shit out of him just by yelling at him.”

“Did he now,” mumbled, Byleth, putting her tea down. For a moment, she considered what to do next as the other students asked Felix about the fight. Dimitri definitely must have seen Seteth walk her home the other night. There was no other reason for the young man to be upset with the Administrator. Looking at Felix she asked, “I assume that’s where Flayn went? To speak with her brother?”

Felix shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe? I didn’t see her when I grabbed toast from the dining hall. She probably heard about it from Claude and the others in there though.”

“And Dedue?” asked Byleth, standing from her chair.

“He’s dealing with the boar,” grunted Felix, watching her. “They’re either in the baths or back in Dimitri’s room. I wouldn’t go looking for him right now though Professor, he’s madder than a stuck pig.”

“Indeed,” said Byleth, walking out the door. “No, I’m going to talk to Seteth first. In the meantime can you all work out battle plans for Remire, based on the maps on my desk. At least three.” Counting each student with her index finger, her gaze rested on Ashe. “I will let Ashe be in charge while I’m out. Are you good with that Ashe?”

His eyes wide and his cheeks red, Ashe nodded. “Y-yes professor!” he agreed. Normally she would choose one of the older students like Sylvain or Mercedes, or even the Prince himself, but she wanted to give the boy a bit of a challenge this morning. Besides, he was not born noble, so he’d likely have a better grasp on the comings and goings of a village like Remire.

Leaving the doors to the Blue Lions classroom open, Byleth began to walk towards the main building. She expected that Seteth would be in his office by this point. On her way, she saw Flayn walking somberly towards her, in the direction of her classroom.

“Flayn!” greeted Byleth. “You’re late for class! Is everything with your brother alright?”

“So you’ve heard,” said Flayn with a sigh. Walking over to a bench, Flayn sat down and beckoned Byleth over. “Yes, he’s fine. He wasn’t hurt.” Furrowing her brows, she looked to her Professor. “What do you know?”

“Felix told me that Dimitri attacked Seteth,” began Byleth, looking forward at the stone wall of the building across the grass. Her heart sank, feeling responsible for the Prince’s actions. “And that Seteth had grounded him.”

“Grounded him,” snorted Flayn. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“What did your brother tell you?” asked Byleth, looking to the girl with mint-green hair.

Her face sullen, Flayn looked at her hands. “He told me he thought the Prince was trying to hurt him, that it was more than just a sparring match.”

Byleth crossed her arms and settled back into the bench. “I thought as much,” she mumbled, emotion sparking in her voice. “Where is your brother? I would like to speak with him. We need to figure out what to do about this incident … with Dimitri.”

“It would be … best, if you gave my brother a few hours to collect his thoughts,” said Flayn, placing her hand on Byleth’s shoulder in a similarly affectionate way that Seteth had a few nights ago. “But I am sure he will want to see you at some point today.”

Looking to Flayn Byleth felt warmth from her touch. The girl may be strange like her brother, but she was kind and cared about her friends. Byleth, being strange herself, felt a kinship she couldn’t name with both of them, especially in this moment. “Okay,” said Byleth, rising to her feet. “In that case, let’s get back to class. We will be heading to Remire at the end of the week and I want to be as best prepared as possible. I’ll find Seteth after lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan!” said Flayn brightly, practically bouncing off the bench and onto her feet.

In her short absence the students, under Ashe’s watchful instruction, had begun to draw up four different scenarios. Annette was practically bouncing with delight as she told Byleth about how well Ashe and Felix worked together to make these plans. The rest helped, though the work was done by mostly the two boys. By the time she had arrived, Dedue was back in the classroom.

“Hello Dedue,” said Byleth, walking up to the tall young man. “Can you come speak with me outside? I want to understand better what’s going on with Dimitri.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the young man, his deep voice respectful. He followed her outside and into the garden.

“Walk with me,” she gently requested. Once they were outside of earshot of the door, Byleth began, “So, how’s he doing?”

Dedue made a slight groan and clenched his eyes shut tightly. “His Highness is … quite subdued. Once Felix brought him to me he, it was as though His Highness was in shock. He did not talk to me at all. It was Felix who told me about the fight. I did not think Lord Seteth could be so … intimidating.”

“Well, there goes a couple of my other questions,” huffed Byleth, crossing her arms. “I was hoping I could get some insight into why he attacked Seteth.”

Dedue chuckled uncharacteristically, “You must be joking, ma’am. You and I both know His Highness has fallen for you. You may think you are being secretive, but I have seen you kiss on more than one occasion.”

Then that’s one occasion too many, she thought, her belly flopping. Gathering herself, she said quietly, “Who else knows about … his affections for me?”

Dedue stopped her then, checking for anyone in earshot before saying, “As far as I know, only myself and Mercedes. I believe she’s spoken to both of you? I suspect the other Blue Lions, namely Sylvain, have an idea of it, but they have not said as much.

“But,” he added, looking to her eyes, “Do you really feel that you need to hide? My Prince is not a child, it was only a requirement of the Faerghian nobles that he graduate from this Academy before he was crowned King. And you’re not so much older than him that being with him is inappropriate. Mercedes is much older than me, and she is comfortable with my courting her.”

Byleth felt her heart warm and a small smile alight on her face. “So it is true then? You are officially courting Mercedes? How lovely!”

Dedue blushed, standing tall and straightening his officer’s jacket. “Yes, well, it is not my relationship that we are discussing.” Looking to his Professor, Dedue continued, “My Prince has told me many times that he feels deeply for you and wishes to be with you. That is why I think he attacked Lord Seteth; because he believed he was trying to steal your affections.

“A few nights ago he saw him walk you to your dorm. I tried to help the Prince understand that Lord Seteth was being polite, but he clearly did not heed my advice.”

His face softening, Dedue added, “What he did was unconscionable, but I just want to help you understand the why of it. I promise to you and Lord Seteth that I will assist in any and all disciplinary actions deemed necessary towards Dimitri.”

“Thank you Dedue,” said Byleth, caught off guard by the young man’s use of the Prince’s first name. “It means a lot to me that I can trust you to do what’s best for Dimitri, even if it is assisting in his discipline. I will be coming to talk with him before the end of day, after I’ve discussed with the other Professors about what we should do.”

Locking her arm with his, she directed them back to the classrooms. “Let’s go get back to class. We’ve got a mission to plan!”

***

Once class was done for the day, Byleth searched for Seteth in his office. She was determined to get the story of the fight from him. Finding his door closed, she knocked a little harder than she meant to.

A loud masculine voice from inside barked, “One moment! You don’t have to kick down my door!”

“Sorry,” she said meekly as Seteth unlocked the door and opened it. “I didn’t mean to knock so hard.”

“Ah, Miss Eisner,” he said, the annoyance on his face releasing as he saw her. “Come in, please.” He shut the door behind her after she walked in. As she stood, waiting for his instruction, he motioned her to sit at the couch next to his door, where a teapot and several teacups waited. “I was just about to have my afternoon tea, will you join me?”

“Of course,” she nodded, not sure what else to say. Before coming to Garreg Mach, she wasn’t a huge fan of tea, only drinking particularly strong black teas when she had not slept well the night before. However, due to most of the Officer’s Academy being nobility, they each had various unique types of teas they enjoyed. Byleth had been surprised to find out there were so many varieties.

Seteth poured her a cup from the delicate teapot. The scent wafted up to her on the steam and she was surprised how sweet and aromatic it was. “Oh this is very nice!” she commented as she sipped from the cup. It was hot, but she didn’t mind, the heat helping to express the many flavors.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said with a grin, leaning back into his office couch, holding his own cup. “It’s a special four-spice blend that I like to make myself. It has cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, and clove, as well as your traditional tea leaves.” Taking another sip, he sighed, “I felt the need to make a good pot of tea after today.”

“Yeah,” said Byleth, feeling embarrassed. Even though she had not attacked Seteth, she had been the cause of it. “I heard about the fight this morning.”

“I assumed you would,” he said gravely, taking another sip. “And I’m glad you came to talk to me before I had to search you out.” Seteth closed his eyes and took a moment of sipping his tea before making another comment. During this time, Byleth felt her blood run cold in fear and the anticipation of what he would say.

“I must apologize that I did not find out about the Prince’s … advances towards you before now. You are a Professor under my employ, and therefore under my protection. If I had known I would have been able to intervene sooner.”

Byleth stared at Seteth in shock. That is decidedly not what she expected him to say. Byleth has been fully prepared to be dressed down, if not fired. “Um … it’s okay?” was all she could figure to say.

“No, it is not okay as you say, Miss Eisner,” said Seteth, his voice full of emotion. Looking to her he placed the tea on the table and moved his hand to her shoulder affectionately.

“In normal circumstances I would simply reprimand or remove the Professor for having dalliances with a student, no matter how close they are in age. But … I have come to know you since you came to Garreg Mach, and I know you would not be the one to pursue the Prince.”

She felt his fingers squeeze her shoulder slightly, her skin tingling at his touch. His voice barely above a whisper, Seteth added, “Ever since you … confided in me your lack of … experience with men, I feel even more protective towards you.” He paused to give her a genuine smile. “That confidence means the world to me, especially knowing how guarded you are with yourself and your emotions.”

Byleth placed her teacup on the short table adjacent to the couch they were sitting on. Sitting back into the cushions, she looked up into the older man’s kind eyes. His irises were a beautiful, vibrant green with small silver flecks. His eyes reminded her of ghostly companion’s eyes.

“Thank you Seteth, for your kindness … it was … unexpected.”

She could feel herself leaning into him, hungry for human connection. Byleth knew in her bones that this man was trustworthy. He wouldn’t turn around and try and make this interaction any more than the friendly support that it was.

Seteth took her invitation and gathered her to him in his arms. He squeezed her tight, silently reassuring her that she was safe. Even through his highly tailored doublet, Byleth could hear his heart beating softly, comforting her. She smiled when she felt his hand on her head, stroking her hair.

“What do you want to do?” he hummed into her hair.

Stay here, like this for a while, she thought. Knowing that was likely an inappropriate answer, she asked, “You mean, about Dimitri?”

“Unfortunately, he’s the head of the Blue Lions, their king-in-waiting. I can’t remove him from the house, but I can reassign you … if you want.”

Byleth shook her head against Seteth’s chest, mussing her already shaggy hair. “No, it’s fine, I really like the Blue Lions. Even Dimitri, when he’s not being stupid.”

Releasing her embrace with the emerald haired Administrator, she looked up at him and shrugged. “I’ll just have to be more careful with him.”

Seteth watched her eyes, his face implacably calm. “Are you sure?”

Byleth nodded, moving back to her original position on the couch. Taking her tea cup from the table she took a long drink, finishing it off. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m the Ashen Demon, right?”

“Yeah,” chuckled Seteth, picking up his own teacup. “Though, you’re quite a lot less demonic than the stories would bely.” Drinking the rest of his tea, he poured some more from the pot into his own teacup. Without asking, he poured more into Byleth’s as well.

“So, Miss Ashen Demon, what do you think an appropriate punishment for our little king would be?”

Byleth snorted at Seteth’s new knick name for Dimitri. “I’m not sure, I haven’t had to think up many punishments. Usually I just send the students to do extra garden or stable duty.”

“That’s a start. We should also have him wearing the basic uniform for a month or so, at least until the ball. Instead of wearing his usual silver and blue attire marking him as Crown Prince.”

Byleth considered Seteth’s suggestion and nodded. “I’m sure he’ll be amenable to that. Dedue mentioned he’d assist with discipline as well.”

Seteth responded with a surprised scoff. “Well, that was unexpected. I was under the impression that the Prince’s vassal would do anything to support his Prince.”

Byleth shrugged and took another sip. “Dedue explained that this was helping the Prince, teaching him better self-control. And, I mean, he’s not wrong.”

“I thought Mr. Fraldarius would be more inclined to help with any punishments, considering his reaction to the fight this morning.” Seteth took another sip of his own tea, looking across the room to the back of his office. In the stone wall was set an ancient stained glass window made up of hundreds of tiny glass squares. Just like the rest of Garreg Mach it was beautiful in its simplicity and strong build.

“Much like the man to your left,” giggled the little ghost in her head.

Ignoring her imaginary friend’s words, Byleth tried to suppress a blush rising to her cheeks. “Do you mind telling me about it?” she began, her voice small. “The fight, I mean?”

Seteth sighed and leaned back into the couch. “It wasn’t much of a fight really. Dimitri was training with a lance early in the arena when I arrived. He asked me to spar with him, so I obliged. It was soon obvious to me, however, that he was striking with his full strength, and often wildly so.”

Seteth closed his eyes and drew his fingers through his hair. Byleth noted in wonder when she could see Seteth’s ear for what she realized the first time. Instead of the curve of a normal ear, his ears ended in a sharp point. That must be why he wears his hair down all the time, she thought, not wanting to alert to him that she saw his secret.

“Very curious,” commented Sothis, “I thought his hair looked somewhat like mine, but it seems his ears do too. Quite curious.”

Before Byleth could ponder Sothis’s musings, Seteth said, “Several students, including Mr. Fraldarius, had arrived for morning training by the time we were in full swing. I realized I had to end the match before the Prince swung too wild and hit one of them.”

Sighing again, Seteth mumbled, “I had to practically choke and yell at the fool before he would stop struggling.” Realizing the impact of his words, Seteth quickly clarified, “With my lance, I mean. I had my lance against his throat, for a moment you see.”

“Oh,” mumbled Byleth, imagining the scene. “No wonder he was scared, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you yell. Angry, yes, but not yell”

“Yes, well, at least it got him to stop,” said Seteth with a shrug. Closing his eyes, he massaged his brow, where his circlet usually sat. “May I say something that you promise not to leave this room?”

“Of course,” she offered easily.

Placing his half-empty teacup on the table, Seteth stood. He walked over to the ancient window at the back of his office. Looking out, he stated in a low voice, “This young Prince is somewhat … alarming to me. Most of the time he is friendly and affable. However, if he is angered … well, he seems to have trouble keeping himself in check.

“I feel for his story, his … tragedy, but a ruler must be calm and collected in times of crisis. The Fraldarius boy seems much more suited to leadership.” Seteth turned to look at Byleth, the emotions on his face inscrutable. “Don’t you agree?”

Byleth wasn’t sure what to say, so she just stood up. “Thank you for the tea,” she mumbled, uncomfortable by the direction this conversation was heading in. She was just a mercenary, the Ashen Demon, thrown into the unfamiliar world of nobility and politics. She had no right to comment on anyone’s ability to rule, even though she had been thrust into the position of teaching them.

Seeing her discomfort, Seteth rising to his full height next to her. “My apologies, Miss Eisner, if I made you uncomfortable at all. I know I speak harshly at times but I hope that you know I am merely doing my job.”

Forcing herself to smile, Byleth shook her head. “No, it is quite alright. I just need to get going. I promised Dedue that I would speak with him and Dimitri about the Prince’s discipline before dinner.”

Stepping forward to Seteth, she stepped to her tiptoes and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek. “Thank you again, Seteth, for giving me the space to just … talk.” Byleth didn’t know why she had kissed him, she just felt compelled to do so, as a little thank you for his kindness.

“Oh don’t kid yourself girl,” giggled Sothis, “We both know you want to do more than that.”

Will you shut up you stupid ghost! I don’t like him like that! He is my boss! Byleth blushed when she noticed Seteth giving her a strange look when she looked back at him.

Easing his face into a warm smile, Seteth walked her to his office door. “Of course, Miss Eisner. I have grown fond of our talks.” Before opening the door, he asked, “If the Prince, or any other student, is giving you difficulties, please come to me, alright?”

“Alright,” nodded Byleth, opening the door. “Good evening, Administrator.”

“Good evening, Miss Eisner,” he said as she walked through. This time it was Byleth’s turn to watch as Seteth closed the door.

Notes:

This process of going through all of the chapters and reworking them to be from a single point of view has gone pretty great. Some are short, but I think that it works for the pacing after some review. This chapter, in particular, is quite long, but it makes sense because it's a bit slower and emotion filled. It also allowed me to throw in more bits of Sothis gossiping at Byleth one sided about boys.

Chapter 48: Dimitri - Dormitory

Summary:

Dimitri is seething with anger after his fight with Seteth.

When Seteth had shouted — no, roared — at Dimitri, the Prince felt as though his stomach would leap out of his body, the fear was so sudden. Up until that point, Dimitri had been confident in his ability to fight the stuffy Administrator. He had wanted to punish the older man for getting too close to his beloved, his Byleth. Throughout most of the fight, especially in its most desperate moments, Dimitri's vision was clouded by anger. He hadn’t fully returned to himself until he heard that roar.

In that instant, Dimitri swore that Seteth’s eyes had changed. The sclera appeared almost black, and the pupils were narrow slits, decidedly not human. The transformation was so quick that by the time Dimitri registered it, Seteth’s eyes had returned to their standard round pupils and white sclera. So shocked by the older man’s roar and altered eyes, Dimitri was frozen in place.

What the fuck was that? wondered the Prince as Seteth got off of him. Dimitri didn’t even register as the Administrator barked something at him, his ears still buzzing from the adrenaline of the fight.

Dimitri first registered sound when Felix was barking at him. “You heard the man, boar,” said the heir to Fraldarius above him. “To the baths with you.” Felix did not stoop to help him up, though Dimitri did not expect him to. Despite how close he was with Felix’s father, Rodrigue, Felix himself did not define himself as Dimitri’s friend. He only barely put up with him as his liege lord.

Grunting, not wanting to give Seteth the satisfaction of his defeat, Dimitri pushed up from the ground. His throat hurt from where the Administrator had pressed his lance’s shaft against it. He was determined to leave the arena before massaging his sore skin.

After Felix made a comment about him being “insane,” Dimitri muttered under his breath, “If I were King I would have the power to punish you for that.” Neither Felix nor Seteth appeared to have heard him.

Along the way to the bathhouse, Dimitri prickled at how Felix walked behind him but said nothing. Before Glenn, Felix’s older brother, died, he and Dimitri had been close friends. But after the Tragedy at Duscur, and Rodrigue giving Dimitri so much attention, Felix had become much more cynical and reserved. His argument with his father during their expedition weeks prior proved that the son and father were still at odds.

Thankfully, they ran across Dedue before Felix had walked all the way to the male student’s bath at the near end of the dormitories, by the sauna. With a sneer, Felix told Dedue of how Dimitri had attacked Seteth and was now confined to his room, with allowance to bathe first. Dedue nodded gravely and walked the rest of the way with Dimitri.

Though much kinder, Dedue was just as silent. His only words, when they arrived at the baths were, “Do you need any assistant, Your Highness.”

“No,” snapped Dimitri, harsher than he wanted with his best friend. After his defeat Dimitri was on edge, still feeling the need to break something in his anger. At least now he was calm, no longer seeing red.

“Alright, I will wait outside,” said Dedue, letting Dimitri bathe in peace. At this time of day, there were no other students at the bathhouse, all having started their classes by now. Dimitri bathed quickly, not wanting Dedue to be late, knowing that his bodyguard and friend would wait if he didn’t tell him to go.

Leaving the bathhouse dressed in a bathrobe, he allowed Dedue to escort him to his room. Throwing his dirty training clothes in his basket, he fell to his bed. Dimitri dismissed Dedue, wishing to be alone, as well as not wanting his friend to miss the day’s lessons.

After a few hours of seething and feeling sorry for himself, Dimitri decided that he should at least dress. The bathrobe was cold, especially in the cooler winter temperatures. Knowing that he had been barred from leaving his room, he chose to wear basic pyjamas. Unsure of what to do, he sat at his desk and thumbed through his coursework.

Dimitri didn’t get much work done though, as his thoughts kept drifting back to what he had done. How stupid had he been? Why did he attack Seteth, what was the point of that? What would Byleth think?

On the sixth or seventh hour of Dimitri stewing in his own misery while attempting to read, he heard a knock at his door. “Come in,” he called out meekly, not sure what to expect. Dedue opened the door, the Professor behind him. Dedue stood well inside the room, while Byleth only stayed within the doorway. The fact that she felt the need to bring Dedue with her to speak with him, and that she didn’t enter his room fully, broke his heart.

“Prince Dimitri,” she began, her voice formal. “As you probably expect, I have heard all about your sparring match with Administrator Seteth this morning. He, and several of the students who had been watching, report that your movements were much too dangerous for a simple sparring match.”

Taking a breath, she looked over to him, her face a steady, unreadable marble. “We have determined that an appropriate punishment for you will be as follows: for the next month you are to report to the stable master every morning; you are to only wear the basic Academy uniform; and you are to remain in your quarters outside of your assigned task, mealtime, and lesson time. Dedue here has volunteered to supervise you … as your friend.”

Crossing her arms, she closed her eyes. Dimitri could tell, even with her muted expressions, that this next part hurt her to say. All he wanted to do was leap out of his chair and embrace her, but knew that she had brought Dedue to keep him from doing exactly that.

“As for our next mission to Remire, I have chosen Felix to command the forward position. You will remain in the back with the magic users as their protector.” Dimitri blinked his eyes in shock. As head of the Blue Lions house, he always took the forward position. For the Professor to give the position to Felix was a slap in the face.

Biting his tongue, Dimitri stared at the floor. “Yes, Professor.” He wanted to say so much more to her: to apologize, to ask why she was walking with Seteth, to say anything. But he knew this wasn’t the right moment.

Nodding to Dedue, Byleth walked away from his door without shutting it. Dedue turned to him and gave him a faint smile. “Come on,” he said, offering his hand to the Prince. “Let’s go get some dinner. I don’t think you’ve eaten today.”

Chapter 49: Byleth - Remire Village

Summary:

The Blue Lions travel to Remire village, only to find it in flames.

Notes:

Content warning: violence and descriptions of major bodily injury.

Byleth was taking lunch during a school day in the dining hall with Manuela when her father burst in searching for her. She had been seeking out the older woman more often these days, trying to befriend her due to her being with her father. And her pregnancy, though Byleth suspected that Manuela and Jeralt had not told anyone of that news yet. It was still early yet, and Manuela was not yet showing.

Manuela had been telling her about how she had been trying to figure out what was going on in Remire. The reports could be describing an infectious disease, but nobody who passed through seemed to have any symptoms. She had suspected poison, but that would cause deaths too quickly. Manuela’s only other option was dark magic, and the notion made Byleth’s blood run cold.

“Oh my,” exclaimed Manuela as Jeralt trudged over to their table. “What is it my dear?”

“It’s Remire,” stated Jeralt, “We have to leave now. Shamir’s scout just told me that the situation as turned, the villagers are killing each other.”

Byleth jumped from her seat to follow her father. As she did so, she felt faint. The next moment she was in her father’s arms, Manuela standing over her. “Byleth!” asked her father in alarm, “What happened?” Several students, including Dimitri, were gathering around them, watching them in concern.

“It’s okay,” she grunted, letting her father help her to her feet. “I just got a little dizzy, that’s all.” She didn’t want to tell him that it had been happening more often as of late, especially not with a crisis on their hands.

“Are you sure you can come with me to Remire?” her father asked in concern.

“I’m fine!” she exclaimed, a little more forcefully than she wanted to.

“Turn to the window,” commanded Manuela, pressing Byleth’s eyelids open. “Her pupils aren’t dilated,” she noted turning to Jeralt. “In normal circumstances I would advise she stay here, but she would be an invaluable asset to us for whatever is happening at Remire.”

“Nope,” stated Jeralt, shaking his head. “I can’t have both of my girls on the battlefield, especially when they’re both … compromised.”

“Don’t you dare Jeralt Reus Eisner!” said Manuela, louder than she probably should have in the dining hall full of students. “I am not some wilting flower! I am Garreg Mach’s primary physician and I will be there at Remire to help with any of the sick and wounded.” Pressing a perfectly manicured finger to his chest, Manuela said with finality, “And no one, especially not you will stop me!”

Jeralt only chuckled and grabbed her hand to kiss it. “Just promise me you will stay away from the fighting. I can’t lose you.” Her father’s eyes jumped from his lover’s face, to her belly, and then to Byleth’s own. “I can’t lose … either of you.”

“Don’t worry Dad,” said Byleth, “I’m the Ashen Demon, remember? Plus, I’ve got the Sword of the Creator. Nothing can stop me.” Nodding to the Blue Lions in the dining hall, she said in a loud and commanding voice, “Blue Lions! Gather your gear and meet me in the stables. Move quickly!”

When she was alone in her room, gathering her weapons and dressing in her fighting gear, Sothis appeared to her. “Are you sure you’re good to go? Are you still dizzy?”

Caught up in the rush of preparing for battle, Byleth merely stated, “Nope, not dizzy anymore.”

“I felt the dizziness too,” admitted her imaginary friend. “Is that odd?”

“Not sure,” admitted Byleth, grabbing the Sword of the Creator on her way out. She hated using the thing, always feeling a strange burning in her chest when she did so. But, the reports out of Remire were alarming, and Byleth wanted every advantage she could muster.

***

On horseback it only took the Blue Lions and the Knights of Seiros a few hours to ride to Remire Village. Manuela had accompanied them, as well as Leonie, Jeralt’s former apprentice. Byleth used to be close to the girl, but now that they were in separate houses at the Officer’s Academy, they had not had time to rebuild their friendship. The girl did seem, however, as loyal to her father as ever.

Byleth was alarmed to find the entire village ablaze. Villagers were in various states of distress: some were running to escape the fires; others remained writhing on the ground, apparently afflicted by the strange dark magic; further more were enraged and attacking anyone in front of them.

Beside her, Dimitri held his spear in front of him, clenching it tightly. She had not spoken directly with the Prince since meting out punishment to him a little over a week ago after his encounter with Seteth. At this moment, the young man’s countenance was almost as frightening as the scene before her.

Felix, the chosen leader for this mission, calmly dismounted his horse. Pointing his rapier forward, he ordered his classmates into their positions. “Sylvain and Ingrid, you will be the forward advance. Ashe and Annette, you will come from behind with your long range attacks. The Professor, Dedue, and I will retain the ground Sylvain and Ingrid capture. Dimitri, Mercedes, and Flayn will take up the rear and catch any stragglers. Kill anyone that attack either you or other civilians.”

“But,” began Ashe, his voice small, “Can’t we try and save people?”

“That’s what we’re doing!” barked Felix, looking at the archer in derision. “The longer we quibble, the more will die, so move NOW!”

“Look,” said Dedue, pointing to the hill beside the town. “It appears someone is watching the village?”

Their group all turned their heads. Byleth was surprised to see Tomas, the kind elderly librarian of Garreg Mach. “Tomas?” she wondered aloud, “What is he doing here?” The old man appeared to be directing people amongst the carnage in the village.

Dimitri, seemingly ignoring Felix’s orders, remained on his horse. “NO!” screamed Dimitri. Byleth felt ice in her blood when she saw the pure rage on Dimitri’s expression. Raising his lance to a jousting position, Dimitri charged forward.

“I WILL SEVER THEIR LIMBS AND CRUSH THEIR WICKED SKULLS!”

“Goddess be damned,” muttered Felix, signaling Sylvain and Ingrid to move forward on their mounts. “There’s nothing we can do when the boar is in a rage. Just try and save as many healthy villagers as you can.”

Byleth was shocked at Dimitri’s lack of self control. The incident with Seteth had been bad, but this was a whole other level of concerning. Afraid that he may harm innocents, Byleth charged after him on her own horse, determined to keep up. As she followed Dimitri, she could only hope that Felix would keep a cool head and lead his classmates to victory.

Seeing the Prince’s reckless charge, Jeralt kicked his horse into a gallop, reaching him and Byleth as Dimitri made his first blow against the enemy. There were heavily armored knights blocking the road ascending the hill Tomas was on. With a cackle, Tomas transformed before their eyes into one of the ugliest creatures Byleth had ever seen.

What had once been a kindly old librarian was now a monstrous dark mage. Black eyes set deep within a too-large head stared down at her. With mirth he lifted his staff and called forth a dark energy Byleth had never seen before. She only had a moment to bring the Sword of the Creator above her and Dimitri in protection before they were struck.

“Ah, hello Ashen Demon!” boomed his voice unnaturally over the battlefield. His voice grated unnaturally, like nails against a chalkboard. “I’m afraid you’re too late. I’ve already used that little girl’s blood to great success here. We’ve learned so much, I must thank her personally.”

He’s the one that ordered Flayn’s kidnapping! Byleth realized in shock. Cutting down one of the black knights who was protecting the dark mage, Byleth tried to move forward, only to have an old enemy warped directly in front of her.

“Hello, friend,” boomed the deep voice of the Death Knight, his scythe held out mancingly in front of him. Before Byleth had a chance to make any move, Dimitri rushed forwards with his spear. In a single instant, the Death Knight slashed his scythe down, decapitating the Prince in a single move.

“NO!” screamed Byleth in horror as she watched the young man’s head fall from his shoulders in a spurt of blood. A thousand emotions wracked through her body as Dimitri’s body slowly fell from his horse. After witnessing such a gruesome display, all her body wanted to do was puke, but Byleth couldn’t allow herself the luxury.

With practiced ease, she slipped backwards in time. She pushed as far as she could go, back to before the dark mage had revealed himself. This was further than she had ever gone with her Divine Pulse, and her body paid the price. Byleth felt her head pound and a wetness below her nose, choosing to ignore it to assess the situation.

Jumping from her horse, she tackled Dimitri off of his own to the ground. They were within the village, the rest of the Blue Lions going after the affected villagers. Jeralt was beside her, too focused on fighting one of the dark knights to ask about her decision to tackle the prince.

Before Dimitri had the opportunity to speak, Byleth slapped him across the face. “Get a hold of yourself!” she screamed in his face, adrenaline and fear still pumping through her veins. “If you don’t you’ll get yourself killed.”

“Byleth, what —” began Dimitri right as his Professor bent to the side and emptied her lunch on the ground.

“Shut up!” she screamed, flecks of vomit still on her lips. “I will NOT let you get yourself killed today Dimitri!” Wiping her face, Byleth looked back at him. She couldn’t help but see him headless and spurting blood, even though at this very moment he was fine. The sight of his face still caused her to whip her head away before she vomited again. “No matter how FUCKING stupid you want to be.”

The Death Knight materialized into existence on the hill between them and the dark mage. Pushing Dimitri forcefully into the dirt, Byleth stood. “I, and only I will be dealing with that bastard. Now, go do your duty, and save the people of Remire!” Grabbing the Sword of the Creator, she turned away from Dimitri and walked up the hill towards the Death Knight.

“So,” said the Knight, still astride his horse. “How did you know I was coming, I wonder.”

Byleth shrugged, bringing her weapon in front of her. “Lucky guess,” she mumbled, waiting for the Death Knight to attack her. To her amusement he just sat there, staring at her through his skull-faced helm. The eyes of his helm glowed a hellish red.

With his focus on her, Jeralt was able to ride past him up hill to attack the dark mage. “You’re not going to protect your lord?” asked Byleth quizzically.

“Solon is not my lord,” boomed the Death Knight’s voice from within his helm.

“Solon,” repeated Byleth. “So that’s what his name is. We’ve been calling him Tomas.”

The Death Knight only chuckled in response. “Yes, he has done well impersonating the old man. Even fooled me sometimes.”

Gripping her sword tight, Byleth asked, “And just who are you?”

"That does not matter," he said, turning to face the hill. At that moment, Jeralt launched his attack on Solon. "It seems my time has come," he murmured as he and the dark mage were whisked away in a burst of dark energy.

“Fuck,” exclaimed Byleth, looking to her father. “Now what?” she asked him as he trotted his horse down to meet her?

“We save as many as we can, put down the rest,” was her father’s only reply.

***

As the day wore on, they encountered fewer and fewer sane villagers. With regret, Jeralt and his Knights dealt with those affected, while Manuela and the Blue Lions assisted the rest. Leonie helped where she could after Jeralt forbade her from working with the Knights. Tired and heartsick, Byleth searched for her father alone on the outskirts of the village as twilight fell.

"Hey, Dad," she said softly as she approached Jeralt. After such a calamitous day, Byleth found herself at a loss for words, merely standing by her father's side. The sickening memory of the Prince's beheading lingered in her mind, along with the uneasy feeling that followed the use of the Divine Pulse. She disliked using it; it always left her with a splitting headache. This time, the headache and added queasiness persisted long after she should have felt better, a grim reminder of the day's events.

“Break your nose?” asked her father, handing her a handkerchief.

“What?” asked Byleth, bewildered. She took the small piece of cloth from Jeralt, not sure what to do with it.

“You’ve got blood all over your face, looks like a nosebleed. Did you get hit in the face during the fighting?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, looking at her hands critically for the first time since the battle ended. The back of her right hand was covered in a smear of blood. The pattern was different from any blood she may have cut from an enemy. Taking the handkerchief, she pressed it to her nose. Flecks of half-dried blood came away on the white fabric.

Dammit, did the Divine Pulse do that? she wondered.

Sothis, hearing her call, answered, “Perhaps. It does seem to cause you great distress when used.”

“Which is why I don’t use it much,” grumbled Byleth, not intending to speak aloud.

“Use what?” asked her father. His usually stoic face was the picture of concern as he looked upon his daughter.

“Nothing,” muttered Byleth. Before she could say anything further, a shadow appeared from nowhere beside them. A masked figure wearing red and black emerged.

Her father brought his sword up and pointed it at the figure. “You are bold to return here, dark mage!” As he attempted a swing, the figure dodged back expertly.

"I am not the dark mage Solon," said the figure, their voice deep and muffled by the white pearlescent mask they wore. “I am known as the Flame Emperor.”

“You destroyed Remire!” screamed Jeralt in rage, slashing at the figure again. “Tortured these people for your dark experiments! You deserve to die!”

In a flash quicker than Byleth could follow, the Flame Emperor moved behind her father. With a quick push, they toppled her father to the ground. They grabbed Jeralt’s weapon and threw it out of reach. “I may be working with Solon, but I did not want Remire to be destroyed.”

“Why are you here?” asked Byleth, watching the Flame Emperor carefully.

“I want to propose an alliance,” spoke the figure calmly. “These … people will cause more calamities. I want to work with you to stop them.” Stopping for a second, the Flame Emperor faces Byleth directly. “I want the power of the Sword of the Creator on my side in the upcoming fight.”

“You’re joking, right?” scoffed Byleth. “Your people kidnapped Flayn, stole her blood, and then used that blood to torture the people of this village.” Feeling anger more strongly than he ever had before, Byleth screamed, “I knew these people! They were good and full of life! How many did you kill and destroy here today, all for your experiments?” In her anger she brought the Sword of the Creator up threateningly. “Dad is right, I should cut you down where you stand.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” muttered the Flame Emperor. They blinked out of existence just as Byleth cut through them. Panting in exasperation and sadness, Byleth just fell to her knees, feeling utterly defeated.

“By,” said her father after several moments, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Come on, kid,” he continued, helping Byleth to her feet. “I’ve had enough of this day. Let’s get the survivors back to the monastery. After that, I’d like to talk, just the two of us.”

“Sure Dad,” said Byleth, trudging along beside him.

Chapter 50: Dimitri - Road to Garreg Mach

Summary:

Dimitri reveals his dark thoughts during the events at Remire to Byleth.

“Professor,” spoke Dimitri softly, walking alongside her on their march back to Garreg Mach. “I was wondering if I could speak with you?”

Dimitri’s heart ached to see her look at him warily, only to immediately turn away. After his recent actions, he deserved no less. He felt awful, like an animal with no control. But he had to explain himself to her, he owed her that much.

“I must apologize to you … to everyone of the Blue Lions … for my actions today.” Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to bear himself to her. “I am mortified by my behavior today. I am truly sorry that you saw that side of me.”

Still looking down at her feet, Byleth asked, “What happened? Why didn’t you follow the battle strategy?”

“My mind … went dark. All I could feel was cold rage. Those people are demons that must be defeated, they’re not human anymore.” Sighing, embarrassed by the memory, he added, “When I woke up, you were … on top of me, slapping me.”

Byleth coughed and doubled over. Dimitri immediately stopped in his tracks to help her to the side. She appeared to be sick, throwing up little more than liquid. His heart beat quickly in fear, never having seen her in such distress. Dimitri took his time rubbing her back and holding her hair as she emptied the contents of her stomach on the road.

After she stopped heaving, Dimitri asked her softly, “Are you alright, Byleth?” He handed her his waterskin, allowing her to rinse the sick from her mouth.

Instead of replying to that question, Byleth muttered, “This must be why Felix calls you a boar: barreling through enemies without thought, ignoring your friends, just like a wild boar.”

Dimitri chose not to reply to that statement. Felix was right, he knew, but there was no benefit in feeding into that mindset. Instead, Dimitri chose to just stay with Byleth and wait for her to say something, anything, to him.

“Where does this rage come from?” she whispered, continuing to deliberately not look at him.

Looking to the road, Dimitri watched as the rear guard of the Knights marched past them. Due to them being highly regarded warriors, the Knights weren’t concerned for their safety and didn’t wait for them to rejoin the march. Dimitri and Byleth were soon alone on the road.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories, about Duscur.” Hitching a breath, he continued, “The flames here reminded me of the attack. When … the Royal Carriage was attacked.”

When Byleth still didn’t look at him, he went on, "I still remember all of their faces, screaming in their last tortured moments, everyone who died that day." Breaking into a sob, he completed his thought, "The last thing my father told me, before I watched his head sliced from his shoulders, was to 'avenge him.' And so I must."

Byleth’s head whipped around and she stared directly into his eyes, a pained expression on his face. “Your father? His head was … cut off!?”

Dimitri nodded, tears flowing freely from his eyes now. Standing tall, he looked away from her, towards Garreg Mach. “I try to remember him how he was,” he lamented, wiping tears from his face with a dirty gauntlet. “But all I remember is his head on the ground, his neck spurting blood.” He couldn’t help but wail on the last words.

He nearly fell forward as Byleth collided with his back. Her strong arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing him tightly. Dimitri’s heart almost burst with elation in that moment. She had not shown him any attention or affection in weeks, ever since his ill-fated fight with Seteth. And he had deserved that, he knew it. But, in this moment, he could let himself hope he had her back, if only for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Dimitri,” she whispered, squeezing him even tighter. “I’ve seen a similar … death before. It is horrifying. And to imagine, it was your father you saw.” Releasing him slightly, Dimitri could feel her lean against his back. His skin burned beneath his basic officer’s uniform where she touched him.

Grasping her hands in his as they lay against his belly, he sighed, letting the rest of his tears go. “Thank you, Byleth, for listening. I haven’t told many people of that day. I has been … too hard to speak on.”

Moving from her embrace, still holding one of her hands, he led her onto the road. Even if she wasn’t ready for his affections, he dared to hold her hand as they walked. Looking ahead to Garreg Mach, he told her, “We tell everyone I’m here to graduate so I can become King. The real reason I’m here is for revenge.” Feeling his voice grow into a growl, he let her hand go. “And one day, I will have it!”

Chapter 51: Seteth - Dormitory

Summary:

Seteth works with Claude to double up the students in preparation for the refugees from Remire.

The first news from what had happened at Remire came from a Pegasus Knight fighting with Jeralt’s forces. She had run straight to Seteth to tell him of what had occurred, and of just how many refugees to expect. At least a hundred more people were now expected to shelter at Garreg Mach and Seteth needed to make plans.

Hearing about the crazed villagers and the sighting of both the dark mage and Death Knight made Seteth freeze in fear. This must have been the same dark mage who had kidnapped his daughter and stolen her blood. Now he has destroyed the village of Remire with his evil works, somehow using Flayn’s blood to do so.

Long ago his daughter had once devoted herself so entirely to healing magic that she burned out her Crest magic and placed herself in stasis for centuries. That was how Cethleann, his daughter’s former self, perished. Now, that same Crest magic was being used to turn people into monsters. Seteth felt as though he was going to be sick.

Swallowing the bile in his throat, Seteth set about making preparations. They would have to dig into the winter stores of food for the refugees, as well as make space for them. Looking at the basic map of Garreg Mach, he decided that the Entrance and Reception Halls would make do while they figured out how many of the residences were either unoccupied or could be doubled up. There were several of the students who were longtime friends who would likely be more than willing to share their space.

Considering the student’s dormitories, Seteth made some executive decisions. Many of the nobility had vassals in attendance who could stay with their lords or ladies for the time being. Anyone who was on the first floor of the dormitories was to be moved to the second floor, in with a friend or lord. Most cases he tried to have students of the same gender stay together, but in some cases, like Edelgard and her dour retainer Hubert, it made more sense to put them in the same room, and give Hubert’s room to girls from his class.

Looking at the last room on the dormitory map, Seteth frowned. Byleth was not a student, and it was not appropriate to house her with one. Initially, he wanted to place her in his own apartments, with Flayn in her room, but decided that was also inappropriate. Instead he placed her with her father in the Captain’s quarters. Though, Seteth wasn’t sure if Captain Jeralt even slept there much anymore, now that he seemed to be spending most of his nights with Manuela.

Making a second copy as quickly as he could, he walked hurriedly to the student’s dormitories. Along the way he found Claude, the leader of the Golden Deer, in his classroom. He and his classmates had heard about the incoming refugees and were all too eager to help. The Black Eagles students also overheard and came to the Golden Deer classroom when Seteth had entered. Their own leader, Edelgard, was not present at the moment.

“Here,” said Seteth, handing Claude one of his hastily drawn maps. “With an influx of refugees coming we need to make space as fast as possible. I want the dormitory rooms on the first floor made ready to be used by families with small children.” Seeing some of the students begin to protest, he added, “This will only be for a short time, until more permanent accommodations can be found.”

“Ooh Lysithea!” said Hilda, excitedly, “We get to have a sleepover!”

“These placements are not set in stone,” began Seteth, walking with the students to the dorms. “The Blue Lions are still on their way back with the refugees, so please move your things as fast as you can so the refugees have somewhere to go when they arrive. And assist your classmates when they get here, from what I understand they’ve experienced quite the tragedy.”

“You can count on us, sir,” said Claude. The young man impressed Seteth with how quickly he organized both the students of his house and of the Black Eagles. He was even able to get the timid Bernadetta to agree to move, placing her with the equally timid Marianne. Seteth admitted that he had not initially thought to place the girls together.

As Claude was taking charge, Edelgard and Hubert finally appeared. They were sweating as though they had been running, and Seteth surmised they had been in the training hall. “I’ve set your house to a task,” spoke Seteth, handing Edelgard the other map of the dorms. “Once complete, please find me or a high ranking Knight. We need to prepare for the arrival of several refugees.” Both the girl and her retainer’s faces were emotionless as they nodded their ascent to his orders.

What a strange pair, Seteth thought as he continued on to find more Knights to direct.

Notes:

Yes, Claude has ulterior motives for putting Leonie in his room, why do you ask?

Chapter 52: Flayn - Road to Garreg Mach

Summary:

Flayn returns from Remire with injured refugees.

Notes:

Content warning: description of surgery.

Flayn rode in the back of one of the wagons, pressing her hands to a stranger’s chest. The man laying before her and Manuela was one of the villagers from Remire. He had not been afflicted by the dark magic, but he had been attacked by one who had. The man had collapsed while walking, revealing a huge bruise on his chest and abdomen. Flayn had recognized it as several broken ribs and had begun administering to it immediately.

Initially, Flayn worried that her exceptional proficiency in white magic might astonish the woman, surpassing even the experienced physician herself. Yet, Manuela remained silent. In that moment, their sole focus was on healing and saving as many as possible. Flayn dedicated her entire being to the task, if only to prevent herself from falling apart.

The dark mage who destroyed the village of Remire had used her blood to do it. Flayn had once devoted herself so entirely to healing magic that she burned out her crest magic and placed herself in stasis for centuries. That was how Cethleann, her former self, perished. Now, that same crest magic was being used to turn people into monsters. She felt as though she was going to be sick.

Swallowing the bile in her throat, Flayn moved her hands down the man's torso. Controlling her magic with her mind's eye, she reached inside his collapsed chest and pulled the rib bones back into their proper shape. Incorporating some of her newly learned wind magic, she gently filled his crushed lung with air.

“Manuela!” she grunted, straining under her magic. “His lung is reinflated. Heal him now!”

Without comment the woman did as she was told and pressed healing magic into the man. Flayn could feel Manuela’s magic curling around the bones and strengthening them. Flayn focused on closing all of the little internal cuts before releasing her consciousness from the man. After a terrifying beat, the man inhaled a sharp breath, then turned over on his side and coughed.

“Just amazing,” muttered Manuela. “I’ve never seen someone heal a collapsed lung without surgery before.”

“It’s an advanced technique,” sighed Flayn leaning against the wall of the wagon. She wiped sweat from her brow, careful to keep her ears hidden beneath her hair. “My mother taught me … a long time ago.”

“Well,” said Manuela in a subdued tone, “I would have liked to meet her. If she taught you that, she must have had exceptional skill in her own right.”

“She did,” said Flayn, closing her eyes. Her mother might have been dead for a millennium to the rest of the world, but for her, it had only been a few years. Flayn had witnessed her mother being cut down in the midst of battle. She had been too far away for her father, Cichol, now known as Seteth, to save her. Flayn had exhausted all her magic trying to heal her mother's wounds. The last thing she saw before her world turned black was the sight of giant dragon wings over her.

Flayn clenched her teeth together at the memory. She still was not sure to whom the dragon wings belonged. Her father and both her uncles were on the battlefield that day, as were many other Nabateans. Much later, after her long slumber had ended, she would hear of the epic battle between Seiros and Nemesis, finally ending the Great War. And of how many of her people had been lost.

Shaking her head, Flayn attempted to dispel those thoughts. That was a different time, a different place. Today was a tragedy, but it was only one event, not an entire war. Yet, deep in her heart, Flayn felt as though the seeds for a new war were being sown.

And she could do nothing to stop it.

It was dark by the time her wagon finally made it through the entry gates of Garreg Mach. The torches were all lit and some of the more adept mages had cast floating fairy lights to follow them around. Flayn herself had not learned that spell yet, but felt an ache in her heart to see them.

Uncle Macuil always cast fairy lights instead of lighting a candle, she thought wistfully.

Flayn’s gaze swept over the crowd, searching for her father. As Captain Jeralt came to help Manuela down from the wagon, Flayn asked him, “Have you seen Seteth?”

“Not yet,” said Jeralt, gently setting Manuela on her feet beside him. Flayn watched as the old captain kissed the woman on her brow. Feeling herself blush at such an intimate, scene, she turned her head to look towards the steps. A boy with dark green hair was running down them towards the crowd.

“Linhardt!” she cried as she noticed him. Tears began to well in her eyes as she jumped from the cart and ran to him. The boy was one of her few friends outside of the Blue Lions, and Flayn felt she needed him in that moment. When she was within arm's reach, she stopped, hugged herself, and looked up at him. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, but she said nothing, just gazing into his eyes.

The boy reached a hand out to her but held back before touching her. Instead, in a soft voice, he asked her, “What do you need?”

Hitching a breath, Flayn sobbed, “My f— brother. I need him. Can you take me to him?”

“Yes,” he said. He reached out his hand and she grabbed it. Flayn would normally be scandalized at being so forthright with a boy, but right now she didn’t care. She felt safe with this boy — he was kind and gentle and curious. And he had saved her once before, she often reminded herself.

Linhardt led her through the gathering crowds in the monastery gate yard, up the stairs, and into the Entrance Hall. The hall itself was just as chaotic as the gate yard, full of refugees from Remire. Flayn felt safer with Linhardt guiding her, keeping her from getting lost in the crowd.

Fully expecting to continue to the main reception hall, Linhardt stopped behind some Knights on the top level of the Entrance Hall. They were huddled around a central figure, whom Flayn recognized as her father. Seteth was barking orders to the Knights, directing them to organize the refugees and maintain order. It wasn't until a group of three Knights dispersed that he saw Flayn and Linhardt.

Before Seteth could acknowledge that she was holding the boy’s hand, Flayn released Linhardt and ran to her father. Being careful to keep up their ruse of brother and sister, Flayn sobbed “brother!” as she flung her arms around her father’s waist. Linhardt remained standing on the edge of the group of Knights of Seiros, seemingly not knowing what to do in that moment.

“Flayn!” exclaimed Seteth, his strong arms wrapping around her small frame. “Are you alright!?”

Flayn released from her father and looked up to him. “It was awful! They hurt so many people! And the dark mage … what he said!” Flayn sobbed and pressed her face into her father’s doublet. It smelled comfortingly of him and the spices he liked to put into his tea. She tried to block out the rest of the world, only focusing on that smell.

Seteth squeezed her once more before gently pushing her back. Kneeling down, like he had when she was small, he looked up slightly into her eyes. Wiping a tear from her eye, he said gently, “Shh dear one, it’s over for now. I need to organize the Knights but I will come see you soon.”

Without getting up, he looked over to Linhardt. Flayn half expected her father to bark at him for being so close with her. Instead he simply asked him, “Mr. von Hevring. Can you escort Flayn to my office?”

“Yes sir,” nodded Linhardt, stepping forward to stand next to Flayn. He offered Flayn his arm in a gentlemanly manner, and she took it. She noticed her father grimace for a moment before he stood.

“I will be up as soon as I can.” Standing to his full height, he looked down to Linhardt. “After you have deposited Flayn in my office, I will ask that you return to help with the refugees. I understand that you have an affinity for healing magic.”

Pausing, Linhardt looked from Flayn to Seteth. “Yes sir,” he said, though slightly less enthusiastically.

Nodding to the boy, Seteth stepped forward and cupped Flayn’s cheek gently. He bent down to kiss her brow. “I will be up soon, dear one.”

“Okay,” replied Flayn, finally letting herself feel the exhaustion from the day. Linhardt had to practically drag her out of the Entrance Hall and through the main building. Once they were at her father’s office, Flayn let herself collapse onto the couch near the office’s door.

For a moment, Linhardt waited, watching her awkwardly. The boy didn’t have much to say when it wasn’t regarding books or scientific research. “Um,” he began, looking to the door. “Are you okay Flayn? I mean,” he gestured to the rest of the room, “Like, just being in your brother’s office like this?”

“Yes, Linhardt,” sighed Flayn, letting her full weight sink into the couch. Even this sparsely upholstered office couch felt like heaven compared to the wagon she'd been traveling in for the last several hours. She looked at him, her face soft yet full of sorrow, and said, “Thank you, Linhardt. Really.”

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked haltingly.

I wish you could sit down on this couch and I could lay my head against your shoulder, but my father would kill you if he caught us.

“No, it’s alright. Manuela and I healed the worst of the injuries, but they still need you down at the gates.” She forced herself to give him a smile as she looked at him. “My brother will be along soon.”

Linhardt’s face was impassive as he stared at her. For a moment, Flayn was worried he wouldn’t leave. He surprised her yet again by stepping towards her and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. His touch was hesitant and stiff, but it was still there, and she relished it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he said as he removed his hand.

“For sure,” she said, still forcing herself to give him the smallest of smiles. As she watched him go, closing the door behind her, Flayn let herself give into her emotions. Muffling herself with a pillow from her father’s couch, she let herself cry. For the dead, the dying, and all those tortured with her blood. Her blood. The monsters of the Great War were back, or something much like them. Were her people, what few of them left, never to be safe from such horrors?

Chapter 53: Seteth - Entrance Hall

Summary:

Seteth deals with the fallout from the evacuation of Remire.

Hours later, as evening was falling, the refugees, Knights of Seiros, and Blue Lions began to trickle in. Seteth had wanted to dash down to the gates to receive his daughter, but first he had more orders to give. Not realizing how long he had taken in administrating his staff, he found that Flayn had instead found him.

It wasn't until a group of three Knights dispersed that he saw Flayn and Linhardt. Before Seteth could acknowledge that she was holding the boy's hand, his daughter released him and ran to her father. Flayn sobbed “Brother!” as she flung her arms around his waist. Linhardt remained standing on the edge of the group of Knights of Seiros, seemingly unsure of what to do in that moment.

“Flayn!” exclaimed Seteth, his strong arms wrapping around her small frame. “Are you alright!?”

Flayn released from her father and looked up to him. “It was awful! They hurt so many people! And the dark mage … what he said!” Flayn sobbed and pressed her face into her father’s doublet.

Seteth squeezed her once more before gently pushing her back. Kneeling down, like he had when she was small, he looked up slightly into her eyes. Wiping a tear from her eye, he said gently, “Shh dear one, it’s over for now. I need to continue organizing the Knights but I will come see you soon.”

Without getting up, he looked over to Linhardt. For any other boy, he would bark at him for being so close with her. Instead he simply asked him, “Mr. von Hevring. Can you escort Flayn to my office?”

“Yes sir,” nodded Linhardt, stepping forward to stand next to Flayn. He offered Flayn his arm in a gentlemanly manner, and she took it. Seteth could not hide his grimace at the boy’s closeness to his daughter.

I may have to address that at some point soon.

“I will be up as soon as I can.” Standing to his full height, he looked down to Linhardt. “After you have deposited Flayn in my office, I will ask that you return to help with the refugees. I understand that you have an affinity for healing magic.”

Pausing, Linhardt looked from Flayn to Seteth. “Yes sir,” he said, though slightly less enthusiastically.

Nodding to the boy, Seteth stepped forward and cupped Flayn’s cheek gently. He bent down to kiss her brow. “I will be up soon, dear one.”

“Okay,” replied Flayn, beginning to slump from her exhaustion. Seteth watched as Linhardt had to practically drag her out of the Entrance Hall. His heart ached to let his daughter go, but he could not indulge in comforting her just yet. Seteth knew that just thinking about the horrors she may have seen would make him collapse as hard as she would once he let his present mind dwell on them.

The monsters of the Great War were back, or something much like them. Were their people, what few of them left, never to be safe from such horrors?

Eager to attend to his daughter, Seteth hurried through giving orders to the Knights. At one point, he found Captain Jeralt and received a brief debrief. Jeralt spoke of the dark mage wearing Tomas’ skin, the Death Knight, and the Flame Emperor. Seteth was alarmed to hear mention of the Flame Emperor, as he had several intelligence reports on such a figure. The fact that they could warp in and out of the battlefield so often indicated powerful magic on their side. Solon’s experiments, however, chilled Seteth to his core.

Thanking Jeralt, he found Alois, the most senior of the Knights on hand at the moment, to take charge. By that point much of the turmoil had died down, but the refugees still needed blankets and food. Seteth gave permission for the Knights to house the refugees within the various halls of Garreg Mach for the night, until more suitable accommodations could be found.

Careful not to seem too harried, Seteth rushed back to his office. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he marched through the monastery, worrying for his daughter. Only when he saw her curled up on his office couch did he let himself calm.

Sitting next to her, he placed a gentle hand on her back. The girl shifted slightly but did not open her eyes. He had fully intended to speak with his daughter, but seeing her now, Seteth was reluctant to wake her. He didn't want her to relive the horrors of the day, at least not yet.

What monsters, he thought as he gazed upon his daughter’s slumbering face. How dare they take the blood, the essence, of such a pure creature and use it to create such atrocities?

Not wanting his daughter to sleep uncomfortably on the couch in his office, Seteth picked her up. With his extraordinary strength, she weighed no more than a doll in his arms. Holding her as he had when she was small, he left his office and walked up the stairs to their apartment on the third level.

Fumbling with the door, he opened it with one hand, careful not to wake her. Gently, he placed her on her bed. Taking one corner of her top quilt, he folded it over her, tucking her in like a child.

But she is not a child, he reminded himself as he removed her shoes. She is a young woman, and no matter what I could do, or have done, she is still exposed to the evils of this world. Placing her shoes at the edge of the bed, he stood, looking at her one last time. His heart ached with rage and sorrow as he gazed at his daughter, imagining her own disgust at what she must have witnessed this day.

“Good night, my dear one,” he said, closing her door behind him as he left her room. Seteth could feel his hand tremble as he held the doorknob. It was happening again, all of the terrors of the Great War. That could only mean that the Agarthans were back, or at least their technology was. He needed to speak with Rhea about this, figure out what her plans were. If she had any.

Chapter 54: Byleth - Staff Apartments

Summary:

Manuela and Jeralt tell Byleth about Manuela's pregnancy. Byleth is surprised by Seteth walking through the Entrance Hall in full armor.

Notes:

Thank you all so much for 3000 hits!

Content warning: descriptions of pregnancy.

Byleth found it difficult to get out of bed the morning after the events in Remire. She had walked in with Prince Dimitri rather late a few nights before, taking her time to walk through her exhaustion. The entire time she walked with the Prince she couldn’t look at him, the vision of his decapitation still present in her mind. Every time his face came into view she felt nauseous and had to turn away.

Before that event, known only to her due to her use of the Divine Pulse, her relationship with the Prince had been fraught. She liked him and found him deeply attractive, but his possessiveness and forwardness had put her off. Now that he was showing tendencies toward rage and violence, she was beginning to fear him. However, at other times, he would surprise her by being sweet and caring, such as when he took the time to walk with her along the road. The young man had two opposing sides to him, like a coin, and Byleth was never sure which side was face up.

Dimitri, showing his sweet side, escorted Byleth back to her room, before leaving for his own. In the past he would linger, even try to enter her room with her. This night, however, he was patient and respectful of her space. In such times she wondered if she could open her heart to him; ignoring the fact that she couldn’t look at him directly for the moment of course.

Due to wanting to give the refugee families with children some privacy, Seteth had requested all occupants of the first floor dormitories to relocate temporarily. Upon arriving back at Garreg Mach, Byleth was asked to remove her valuables from her room and move back into her father’s quarters. Jeralt was all too happy to help her, explaining that he would be fine “bunking” with Manuela. It was the closest her father had come to admitting his relationship with the woman to her.

Groaning, her muscles aching from the day before, she slumped out of bed. Her morning meeting with Rhea and Seteth was about to begin, and she didn’t want to be late. Seteth had become a dear friend as of late, but she didn’t know if Rhea would be accepting of her tardiness. Choosing a simple dress, she shrugged it on before stepping out her door.

Rhea and Seteth were waiting for her in Rhea’s audience chamber in the chapel on the second floor like they usually did. Seteth gave her a sad smile, likely having heard all about the previous days events already. Rhea’s face was as implacable as usual, her bearing serene under all of her Archbishop’s finery.

“Good morning, Professor Byleth,” the Lady began as she entered the chamber. “You did well handling that awful business in Remire.” Rhea's eyes became downcast, her face twisting into performative sadness. "I was saddened to hear that Tomas was actually a dark mage. I must reflect on our blindness."

In her head, Sothis shouted, “You failed to notice the rat in your midst! Pathetic!” Byleth wanted to clasp her hands to her ears to drown out the noise, but knew it would do no good. She also did not want to alert the two powerful people before her of her passenger. “Who are these wicked foes!? How did Tomas escape your gaze!?” continued Sothis, clearly enraged.

Seteth, seemingly perplexed by the strained look on Byleth’s face, said, “Tomas began working at the monastery over four decades ago, long before my time. He was a recommendation from House Delia of the Alliance. From what I understand, he returned to his home about eight years ago, before coming back to Garreg Mach last year.”

Scratching his chin, Seteth pondered, “Why would he attack us now after working at Garreg Mach for decades?” Crossing his arms, he added, “Jeritza also became a professor because of a recommendation from an Imperial noble house. Which means our enemy has taken root in at least two territories.”

Rhea replied to Seteth sharply, “Before the Church of Seiros there have been an endless number of threats to the peace of Fodlan. Those who oppose us are still in the shadows, as they have always been.”

Sothis replied once again, even though only Byleth could hear her. “A threat to all of Fodlan’s peace? We must stop them!”

Hush! reprimanded Byleth, working to keep her jaw clenched tight so she did not accidentally speak to her imaginary friend out loud. They can’t hear you, only I can! There’s nothing I can do right now.

Byleth could feel a flush rise up her neck as Rhea and Seteth watched her. The tall man was especially inquisitive, his eyes pinned on her face every time Sothis talked to her. Just as Byleth was terrified he would ask her about it, he instead said, “Without knowing this enemy’s objective we cannot afford to act recklessly.”

Crossing his arms he added, “I will have the Knights investigate. For now, you and your class should focus on your training.” Nodding to Byleth and Rhea, he concluded, “That is all for today. Ladies.”

As Seteth walked past her, Byleth began to follow him, before Rhea asked her to wait. “Byleth,” she said, walking up to the younger woman. “You possess a great power, even if you do not understand it.”

“Do I?” asks Byleth, cognizant of the very loud voice in her head. What does Rhea know?

Smiling softly, Rhea said, “I believe you are destined to be a source of hope for all.” Placing a delicate hand on Byleth’s shoulder, she added, “I knew Jeralt when he was quite young, did you know that?”

“No,” replied Byleth, feeling uncomfortable under the woman’s touch.

“Yes, he took an arrow meant for me,” said Rhea, caressing Byleth’s shoulder. “He jumped right in front of it. I had to heal him myself. It took quite a long time for him to recover, but when he did he joined the Knights of Seiros.”

Wishing that Rhea would remove her hand, but not wanting to upset the Archbishop, Byleth simply stood before her. Not sure what to say in this awkward moment, Byleth merely replied, “Thank you for telling me.” She would have to ask her father about that when they next spoke. She was under the impression that Jeralt despised Rhea.

“Not many know that,” hummed Rhea, finally taking her hand from Byleth’s shoulder. “I expect great things from you, Byleth Eisner.” Turning from the Professor, the Archbishop dismissed her by saying, “May the Goddess Sothis protect you.”

What!? both she and Sothis exclaim silently, watching Rhea walk deeper into the chamber. Inside her, whether her mind or her silent heart, she was not sure, Byleth felt panic. Just as she was about to ask Rhea what she meant, Sothis screamed in her head, “Do not say something we both may regret. We must leave this place, now!”

Obeying the panicked voice in her head, Byleth turned on her heel and marched to the doorway. Usually the doors to the upstairs chapel remained open, but in this moment they were closed. Carefully, Byleth opened them, walked through, and shut them on the other side. She could feel her pulse thrumming in distressed excitement as she left the doors to walk down the hall.

In this moment, Byleth had three options of doors to walk through to receive a modicum of comfort after her strange encounter. She could enter Maneula’s office, which also doubled as a small infirmary, the main one being on the ground floor, but that would only invite the woman to check her over and discover her racing pulse. She could visit Seteth, as she had on many occasions, but the man had just sat down to draw up orders for the Knights. That left one last door.

Her decision made, Byleth walked to her father’s office. The door was open and he was speaking with Alois inside. Seeing his daughter, he dismissed Alois, the younger Knight giving him a salute. “Hello dear,” said Alois with a wide smile as he walked past her.

“Hi Alois,” said Byleth amiably, watching him go. Noticing that her mood was somewhat dour, Alois politely closed the door behind him.

“Hey By,” said her father, coming over to her. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. What happened in Remire was awful, how have you been holding up.”

She was unsure of what to tell her father, before Sothis piped up, “Tell him you fool! He has the right to know!”

Feeling nauseous again at the memory, Byleth sat on one of the couches in her father’s office. Jeralt, slightly surprised, sat across from her on the other couch. “You’re not going to believe this,” she began, unsure of what to say.

“Try me,” said Jeralt bluntly.

“Um …” began Byleth searching for the words. “I can turn back time.”

“What?” asked Jeralt, a look of shock on his face. “What does that mean?”

How much should I tell him? Byleth asked Sothis.

“Tell him about the deaths,” recommended Sothis. “I … we can’t be the only ones who know.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Byleth looked to her father. “I’ve been given a … gift. From the Goddess, some kind of Crest magic, I don’t know. But I can turn back time by a minute or so, in case something bad happens.” Looking to her father, feeling queasy, she added, “Like if someone dies.”

“Ah,” was her father’s only reply. After a long moment of him pondering his question, he asked, “How many times have you used this … gift?”

“Thankfully, not too many. But a few days ago, at Remire ….” Placing her face in her hands, Byleth forced herself to say it. “I watched the Death Knight cut Prince Dimitri’s head from his shoulders.”

Jeralt made no reply, only moving to sit next to her on the couch. He gathered her up in a bear hug, squeezing her tight. For any other person, Jeralt’s hug would seem too strong, but for Byleth it was the most comforting feeling in the world. She cherished how she could hear the comforting sound of his heartbeat as he held her.

“Maybe that’s because you don’t have your own heartbeat? That you like the sound of others so?” asked Sothis.

Maybe, thought Byleth, I never thought about it before. I can feel my own pulse, can normal people feel their own heartbeat?

Before Sothis could answer, Jeralt released his daughter from his tight embrace. “I’m so sorry By. I know you … care for the boy. That must have been incredibly difficult.”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged, knowing full well that it wasn’t. “He’s alive and well, head fully intact.”

“Hmm,” grumbled Jeralt. “I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened to King Lambert, and how he died?”

Byleth shuddered, remembering her conversation with Dimitri on their walk home. “Dimitri saw it happen. He was only a child and watched his father decapitated in front of him. I can only barely imagine how he felt.”

After a long pause, Jeralt noted, “You’ve changed,” as he watched her face.

“I have?” asked Byleth turning to her father.

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “I saw you angry at the village; happy with the brats. You didn’t show your emotions before.”

“Hmm,” she said considering. “You may be right ….”

Jeralt chuckled, leaning into the couch. Gesturing around the room, he said, “It’s a good thing I brought you back here, if only to see you happy.” Sighing, he looked across the room and out the window behind his desk. “Or maybe we shouldn’t have ever left in the first place.”

“Left?” Byleth asked, perplexed. Had she been here before with her father?

Starting, Jeralt stood from the couch. “Well, won’t you look at that, me putting my foot in my mouth again.” Offering her his hand, he said, “Let’s go get some food in you, you’re looking green.”

“Not just yet,” said Byleth, taking her father’s hand to stand with him. “First, I think we should go visit Manuela.”

“Ah,” said her father, scratching the back of his head. “Noticed that I didn’t come home last night did ya?”

“Dad,” began Byleth, crossing her arms, “I know a lot more than that.” Sighing, she added, “Like, that Maneula’s pregnant for one.”

Her father only coughed in reply. Jeralt was not the best with feelings, probably where she learned it. “Does that … are you upset?”

“What!?” scoffed Byleth, looking to her father. “No, not exactly. I’m more worried about you than anything. Do you think you’re going to be able to handle a newborn?”

“I handled you, didn’t I?” he commented gruffly.

“Yeah,” conceded Byleth, “But you were a lot younger then.”

“Not as young as you think,” grumbled her father, walking towards the door. “Alright, lets get this over with. But don’t blame me if Manuela throws something at you, got it?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” snorted Byleth, following her father out the door.

Thankfully, Manuela appeared to be in her office, instead of downstairs in the main infirmary. There were still many refugees to administer to, but the head physician appeared to be taking a break. The older woman was happily snacking on nuts as Jeralt knocked on her door frame. Her face expressed delight when she looked up from her desk to see her lover.

“Jeralt! How wonderful to see you!” Stepping from her desk, the woman still wore her customary green dress, as thin as usual. If Byleth hadn’t already known she was pregnant, she would have had no clue.

Not noticing her behind her father, Manuela pressed herself into Jeralt to give him a deep kiss. Jeralt returned her kiss, but only for a moment, before gently releasing her. Coughing, he awkwardly gestured to Byleth behind him, who was giving the couple a small smile.

“Oh! Byleth!” said Manuela, stepping quickly away from her father. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Don’t worry Manuela, she already knows,” grumbled Jeralt, stepping into Manuela’s office. Byleth followed him, closing the door behind her.

“Oh, does she?” Manuela asked, looking at Byleth quizzically while raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “How much?”

“I know you’re going to have a baby,” said Byleth simply, watching Manuela for her reaction. “And I know it’s my Dad’s.”

Manuela crossed her arms and looked at Jeralt. “I thought we were going to tell her together!” she admonished him.

“Hey!” said Jeralt, raising his hands. “She figured it out on her own! You’ve been training her in medicine after all, maybe she picked it up?”

“Hmm,” murmured Manuela, stepping towards Byleth. The older woman took her hand and pulled her towards one of the backup infirmary beds. Sitting down, Manuela patted the bed next to her, and Byleth sat. Jeralt sat on the bed across from them, amusement on his face.

“Well then, my dear, do you have any questions?” Manuela’s face was soft as she spoke to Byleth, much softer than she would a student. Looking to Jeralt she gave him a wry smile. “Your father was concerned you wouldn’t take the news well, but you seem alright to me.”

“I’m not sure?” began Byleth, looking from Manuela and her father. “For starters, are you, like, my step mother now? I’ve never had a Mom before.”

Manuela laughed out loud and Jeralt coughed. “You will NOT be calling me Mom,” demanded the physician, her voice full of mirth. “You’re how old?” she asked, looking to Jeralt.

“Twenty one,” he grumbled, his usually gruff face taking on a softness Byleth rarely saw.

Oh, she thought, looking at her father. I thought I was older. Is that the first time he’s said my age outright?

“I think it may be,” mused Sothis, reminding Byleth she was still alert within her.

“Well, there you go,” exclaimed Manuela, gesticulating wildly with her arms. “I’m only fifteen years older than you. Much too young to be your mother.” Byleth wanted to say that many girls had babies at fifteen, but felt that would upset Manuela, so she kept her thoughts to herself.

“But,” added Manuela, placing her hand on Byleth’s. “I would like to be part of your family, if you’ll have me.”

Smiling in her own muted way, Byleth said, “Of course! If my father loves you, then I shall too.” Manuela surprised her by wrapping her thin arms around Byleth’s shoulders. Jeralt came over as well, to wrap his big arms about the both of them.

“My girls,” he hummed as he let them go. He knelt before them instead of going back to his own seat. Rubbing Manuela’s belly, he noted, “I wonder if this little one will be a girl too. Then I’ll definitely be outnumbered.”

“Oh Goddess, could you imagine,” laughed Manuela, watching Jeralt with loving eyes. “A mini-me running around here? She’d be a terror!”

Byleth felt her chest ache as she watched her father interact with the former songstress. Was this how my father was with my mother? Before now, seeing how Jeralt behaved with Manuela, Byleth had not felt the loss of her mother. She only tangentially understood her father’s sadness, and he hadn’t expressed it that often.

Seeing Byleth’s gaze upon her, Manuela asked her, “Would you like to feel the baby?”

Byleth blinked in surprise, looking to the woman. “Are you sure? Isn’t it too early? I can’t even see your bump yet!”

“No, I mean with your white magic.” Taking Byleth’s hand, Manuela placed it gently on her own belly. “Remember how I taught you to look inside a person with your magic? You can do that with me, to see the baby. It won’t look like more than a peanut right now, but you can do it.” Smiling to Byleth, she said, “Don’t worry, I trust you. I’ll help, we’ll just take a look.”

Shivering with both terror and excitement, Byleth followed Manuela’s directions. Closing her eyes, she spread her fingers out on Manuela’s belly. The woman’s hand was on top of hers, guiding her. With her inner eye, Byleth searched down through the layers of skin, fat, and then organs, until she found Manuela’s uterus. Normally, the uterus was a small thing, smaller than most of the other organs around it, and Byleth wouldn’t notice it. Now, it had clearly grown, and the heartbeat of new life dwelled within.

“I feel him!” Byleth exclaimed, looking to Manuela in satisfaction. “He’s tiny, but he’s there! You’re right, he does look like a peanut, all bent in half.” Looking at her own hand, she gingerly removed it from Manuela’s belly.

“Him?” asked Jeralt, a look of pleasant shock alighting on his face. “It’s a boy? Are you sure?”

“Well, Byleth, what do you think?” asked Manuela.

“Um … probably?” began Byleth, not sure what to say. “It just felt like a boy to me. It’s so tiny, I can’t be sure.” Looking to Manuela, she asked, “Can you tell yet, with your magic.”

Smiling mischievously to Jeralt, she admitted, “Alright, you’ve got me. I suspected for a while but I was hoping another white mage could confirm.” Throwing her arms around Jeralt, she exclaimed, “We’re having a boy! I little Jerry of our own!”

“Jerry,” snorted Jeralt, hugging his lover back. “You’ve already named the kid? I think I prefer ‘Peanut’.”

Watching them embrace each other, Byleth could feel their love washing over her. I wonder if I could ever have that kind of love, she mused to herself as she got up from the bed.

“You could,” answered Sothis, “But you’d have to risk opening yourself up to it first.”

Byleth wasn’t sure if she could, at least not yet. Telling Manuela, “Thank you, for trusting me to see your baby,” she proceeded to leave the room.

“You’re very welcome, my dear,” said Manuela. “Now, don’t be a stranger! We’ve got a lot of time to make up for if we’re to be a proper family.”

“I promise,” said Byleth, opening the door. “I’m gonna go get some dinner. I’ll see you guys later.”

***

A few days after the events of Remire, Byleth found herself exiting the Dining Hall. Her belly comfortably full of oatmeal, Byleth’s curiosity was peaked by male voices speaking loudly down the stairs. Taking a peak around a pillar, she could see Prince Dimitri talking with a an older man with long dark hair, his back to her The Entrance Hall was well known for its echo, and their voices carried throughout the building.

“So, you’ll be staying here for some time?” asked Dimitri’s deep but youthful voice. The bass of his voice resonated throughout the hall. “Honestly, I’m surprised. I’ve heard it’s been a few years since you last donated to the church.”

“That was merely because of the financial situation of my territory,” answered the older man. His voice was not as deep and Byleth strained to hear him. “I assure you it has nothing to do with my dedication to the church.”

The other man paused for a moment before turning back to Dimitri to ask, “By the way Dimitri … Isn’t Edelgard currently enrolled in the Officer’s Academy as well?”

“Yes,” answered Dimitri in an annoyed tone. Byleth had not heard him speak much of Edelgard, but whenever he had, he was reticent to do so. “She’s in the Black Eagle House. I don’t believe she has any plans to leave anytime son. Why not pay her a visit?” The last point had a scathing edge to it.

“I may do just that,” replied the older man, his voice the slithering around the rebuke. “It’s nice to stay in touch with my dear niece every now and then. Of course, I’m also delighted that I was able to speak with my nephew as well.” The man placed a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, adding, “Whether through marriage or otherwise, family is family, after all.”

“Of course,” said the Prince stiltedly. Stepping back from the man, he said, “The feeling is mutual.” As Dimitri gave the man a reverential bow, the man who called himself the Prince’s “uncle” merely nodded.

Watching the man exit the Entrance Hall, Byleth had not noticed Dimitri walk up the stairs. An edge of anger on his voice, he said, “Professor, if you were watching me you should have made your presence known.”

Incensed that the Prince had startled her, she shot back, “You were the ones speaking in the Entrance Hall. It echoes in here you know.” Pointing at the door down the hall, she asked, “Who was that?”

“That was Lord Arundel,” sighed Dimitri. “He is the Regent for the Empire. He is also Edelgard’s uncle.”

Crossing her arms, Byleth was unimpressed by the Prince’s reticence. “He called you his nephew.” She was dismayed by his caginess. Byleth had hoped that they had come to an understanding during their long walk home the night before.

“My stepmother was his younger sister. We are not related by blood, but he is technically my uncle.”

“So you and Edelgard …”

“Yes,” admitted Dimitri, walking up close to her. “My stepmother was Edelgard’s birth mother. Edelgard and I are siblings by marriage.”

“How odd,” mused Sothis, “It seems the Prince and Princess of two different nations are brother and sister, after a fashion. I wonder what other secrets our Prince is keeping from us.”

Agreed, it is odd, thought Byleth to her divine passenger.

Attempting to change the subject, Dimitri said, “We can delve into that topic another —”

Dimitri was cut off by a girl’s wail from the North exit of the Entrance Hall. They both turned their heads to see Seteth marching past, Flayn on his heels. “But Brother! I must come with you!”

Byleth was gobsmacked as she gazed upon the Administrator. Seteth was resplendent in battle armor she had never seen him wear before. Gleaming steel encased the majority of his body, only leaving gaps for articulation at his joints. Beneath the steel she could see the leather gambeson he so frequently wore while training. Unlike a the heavy plate of a Fortress Knight, Seteth’s armor was designed for riding on wyvern back. His flight helmet was held beneath his arm as he walked past.

Idly, Byleth noted how the Prince simmered with jealousy as she watched the armored Administrator walk past. Dimitri was more subtle with his feelings this time, but Byleth noticed how he breathed through clenched teeth, feeling his eyes on her as she followed Seteth through the hall. Byleth wondered how she would address the Prince's feelings or whether she should mention it at all.

“For the last time Flayn, the answer is no!” commanded Seteth. Byleth was shocked that he would speak so harshly to Flayn, but evidently Flayn was not, taking it in stride.

“I will be coming with you to the Rhodos Coast even if I have to steal one of your wyverns to do so!” Shouted the girl, grabbing her brother by the arm. Byleth was surprised to see her strong enough to stop the armored man in his tracks.

“You will do no such thing!” argued Seteth, pulling his arm from Flayn’s grasp. “I am not going there to ‘pay respects’, I am going to do battle! I can’t fight and keep you safe at the same time!”

It was at that point that Flayn noticed Byleth and Prince Dimitri watching them. “Professor!” she called out, drawing Seteth’s attention as well. “Surely it must be fate that you appeared at the time of my greatest need!” Byleth snorted at the girl’s melodramatic plea.

“What is it Flayn?” asked Dimitri, stepping forward. Byleth wondered how much of his gallantry was for show, or if he actually cared about the girl’s predicament.

Looking from the Prince to her Professor, and back to Seteth, Flayn answered, “My dear brother is about to set forth on a dangerous mission. I refuse to let him go alone! Perhaps if the Blue Lions come with us, they can protect me?”

“No Flayn,” said Seteth, this time more softly. “I need them to remain here, to protect the monastery. Shamir’s people only brought me news of the Western Church attack on the Holy Tomb of Cichol this morning. I believe the Western Church chose to attack at this moment because of the unrest in Remire. I must go now, fly there as fast as possible, before they destroy it.”

“Then at least let me come too,” said Byleth, stepping forward. She chose to ignore Dimitri’s disdain as she addressed the Administrator. “I will fly with Flayn. If you’re fighting with a whole contingent you will need backup, no matter how skilled you are.

“Besides,” she added, giving a sly grin, “I’m sure the Sword of the Creator will scare away half of them before they even make a move.”

Seteth looked at her for a long moment. His deep emerald eyes bore straight into hers, searching for her true intentions. Relenting, he sighed, “Fine, but you and Flayn only have an hour to prepare. I will meet you down at the wyvern roost.” Giving the Prince a wary glance, he walked past them all through the south exit of the Entrance Hall.

As she watched Seteth go, she felt Dimitri grasp her arm. Whirling her about to face him, he asked, “Are you sure, Professor? I won’t be there to protect you.”

Angrily she pulled her arm from him. Wishing to slap him for his forwardness, she clenched her fist instead. Byleth knew Flayn was watching them, as well as others who had emerged from the Dining Hall when Flayn had shouted earlier. Careful to control her voice, she told Dimitri, “I will be traveling with Administrator Seteth and Flayn on his mission. During this time I must entrust the well-being of the Blue Lions to Your Highness. Do your most to assist with the refugees.”

Pausing, she stared up into Dimitri’s ice-blue eyes. The young man took this moment to pull her forward into a crushing kiss in front of the entire hall. Flayn and many others gasped in surprise. Releasing her from his kiss, the Prince said softly, “Be careful, Byleth.”

Feeling heat rise in her face, Byleth stepped back from Dimitri, her eyes still locked on his. Whether from anger or desire, she wasn’t sure. The Prince’s boldness was as attractive as it was infuriating in that moment. She wanted to punch the smirk right off of his perfect, handsome face.

Looking at Flayn, whose eyes were still wide with shock, Byleth ordered her, “Let’s go get packing. We should also ask for any medical supplies Manuela can pack on short notice.”

“Yes, Professor,” replied Flayn. Choosing to ignore the eyes that followed her, Byleth exited the hall with Flayn. The other girl had much more trouble ignoring the unwanted attention, looking back frequently as they walked.

I am going to kill him for that when I get back, Byleth fumed, doing her utmost to keep her feelings unknown to Flayn.

“Probably a bad idea, given he’s the Crown Prince and all,” giggled Sothis, who was entirely too amused at this whole situation.

***

The wyvern roost was musky and warm as Byleth entered it. Fires were lit on large braziers throughout the wide space to keep the temperature comfortable and the space bright. Several of the large animals were snoozing, opting to save their energy in the late autumn chill.

Byleth had traveled a great deal in her mercenary days so she was aware that Rhodos was north of Garreg Mach. To prepare she wore warm woolen undergarments beneath her flying leathers. Not particularly competent with braiding her hair, she had simply stuffed it under her tight fitting woolen cap. A thick woolen cowl rested around her neck.

Choosing a flying helmet and goggles from the rack at the front of the stable, she pulled them both over her head. Further inside the stable she found Seteth. He was hooking a two person saddle to a large wyvern, the largest Byleth had ever seen. The name plate on the wyvern’s stall stated his name was “Saint”.

Flayn came running up behind her, her normally curled hair braided tightly into two pig tails. The top of her head and her ears were tucked into a similar woolen cap as Byleth’s. She was fumbling with a small package wrapped in paper, trying to push it into her already full traveling pack.

“You’re putting a double saddle on Saint?” asked Flayn, coming up to her brother. Seteth merely nodded as he latched a final buckle around the beast. The wyvern bent his head to greet Flayn, chuffing in delight. The girl absently pet the beast’s nose, asking Seteth, “Are you riding with Professor Byleth?”

“No,” said Seteth, stepping away from the beast. “I’ve already saddled Macha. She is younger than Saint and has been training for battle. This will be a good test of her skills.” At hearing her name, the wyvern across the way from Saint crowed in excitement. Byleth saw that she was already wearing a smaller saddle with travel bags belted to it.

“Here,” said Seteth, taking the saddle bags from both Byleth and Flayn. “Let me get those ready for you, then we can be off.” While focused on the saddle bags, he asked both girls, “Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so,” replied Flayn, taking Saint by the reins. Byleth surmised that she was going to lead him out to the edge of the cliff where the wyverns launched into the air.

As Seteth looked to her for her answer, Byleth simply said “yes” confidently. Nodding, he turned back to securing the final saddle bag to Saint’s double saddle. Opening the door to the large drake’s stall, Seteth stood back to allow Flayn to lead the beast outside.

Byleth watched as Seteth took the reins of the more willful Macha with interest. She was impressed how the man took command of the beast with simple commands and strategic pulls of the reins. Under his direction, the hen calmed, watching him with her large reptilian eyes.

“Open the gate please,” asked Seteth while he watched Macha. Byleth took no time to unlatch the gate to the wyvern’s stall, allowing her to go free. Wary of the hen’s excited wing flaps, Byleth kept near to Seteth as he guided the beast. “Calm yourself Macha,” cooed Seteth, completely in control of the situation. “Go on Byleth,” said Seteth, his voice intended only for her ears. “I will follow.”

Feeling herself blush upon hearing him say her first name, Byleth did as she was asked. All too aware of the willful young wyvern behind her with only Seteth between them, she attempted to walk as confidently as she could towards the cliff’s edge.

“Thank you, Miss Eisner,” came Seteth’s more formal voice at her back. “It seems I will owe you yet again once this mission is complete.”

His words caused a shiver up her spine. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, trying to be nonchalant. “A damsel in distress requested my aid, I would be a blagard if I did not accept her quest,” she quipped, blushing at her own attempt at humor.

Seteth seemed to enjoy it, rewarding her with a small chuckle. “Mr. Ubert must have been telling you his fairy stories again?”

“Something like that,” muttered Byleth, feeling butterflies in her stomach. Before she could say anything else, and potentially shove her foot further in her mouth, Seteth stopped her. They had come up to Saint, Flayn already seated on the back portion of the double saddle. Her flight harness was hooked into the saddle, her flight helmet and goggles strapped to her head.

“Macha, stay,” Seteth commanded the wyvern hen. Walking up to Saint, he pet the beast and whispered something into his hear that Byleth couldn’t understand. Saint replied by moving his large head over to Byleth, staring at her with a huge slitted eye. “I told him you are a friend,” smiled Seteth, patting the drake’s wide neck. “Go on, introduce yourself.”

Not sure what to do, Byleth put her hand out to the beast like she would a dog. Much like a dog, Saint sniffed her hand, then pressed his huge head into it. “Awe,” said Flayn, patting the side of the giant wyvern’s back. “He likes you!”

“Of course he does,” commented Seteth. “Now, usually on such a large wyvern you need to climb up his wing to mount him, but I don’t think you’ve done that before. If you’ll allow me,” he said, kneeling before her. Putting his hands together, Seteth made a foothold for her.

“Um, thanks,” said Byleth, approaching him. Before she placed her foot in his hands, she reached out for the saddle. Flayn grasped her left hand as Byleth placed her other hand on the horn of the wyvern’s saddle. Stepping into Seteth’s hands, she was amazed at how easily he lifted her onto Saint’s back. Swiftly he lashed her forward harness to the saddle, Flayn securing the back.

Her blood ran hot where he patted her on the thigh, stating, “There you are, ready to go.” Byleth took this moment to place her flight goggles securely over her eyes, pull her cowl tight over her nose, and strap her helmet in place. To Flayn, he said, “I’ll be right behind you,” before turning to Macha.

“Okay,” said Flayn. Pulling on Saint’s reins, she asked Byleth, “You ready?”

“Sure,” grunted Byleth, not looking forward to the initial jump off the cliff. She had ridden on wyverns and pegasi a couple times now, but was still not ready to ride unassisted. Descending was always her least favorite part; it always made it feel like her stomach was flying into her throat.

Almost like when Dimitri kisses me, she thought grumpily as the wyvern began its lumbering run to jump off the cliff.

Chapter 55: Dimitri - Entrance Hall

Summary:

Dimitri's relationship with Byleth is finally revealed to the rest of the Blue Lions. Sylvain gives Dimitri some advice.

Notes:

Content warning: forced kiss.

When Seteth had walked into the hall, practically glowing in his shiny, silver armor, Dimitri felt as though he would explode in anger. Dimitri didn’t even know the man owned armor, let alone had any occasion to wear it. Breathing roughly through clenched teeth he watched his beloved Professor stare at the man, mouth agape. Dimitri could feel the beginning of another migraine start to form.

“For the last time Flayn, the answer is no!” said the Administrator roughly. Dimitri found he was also annoyed with how the man spoke to his sweet little sister. The Prince had not known the girl very long, but she had been a joy ever since she joined his house.

“I will be coming with you to the Rhodos Coast even if I have to steal one of your wyverns to do so!” Shouted the girl, grabbing her brother by the arm. Dimitri was chuffed to see Seteth stop for the sake of his sister.

“You will do no such thing!” argued Seteth, pulling his arm from Flayn’s grasp. “I am not going there to ‘pay respects’, I am going to do battle! I can’t fight and keep you safe at the same time!”

It was at that point that Flayn noticed Byleth and Prince Dimitri watching them. “Professor!” she called out, drawing Seteth’s attention as well. “Surely it must be fate that you appeared at the time of my greatest need!” Byleth snorted at the girl’s melodramatic plea.

“What is it Flayn?” asked Dimitri, stepping forward. Whenever he heard a girl in distress he felt the need to intervene, no matter who. Even if the girl was the younger sister of the most powerful man in Garreg Mach.

Looking from the Prince to her Professor, and back to Seteth, Flayn answered, “My dear brother is about to set forth on a dangerous mission. I refuse to let him go alone! Perhaps if the Blue Lions come with us, they can protect me?”

“No Flayn,” said Seteth, this time more softly. “I need them to remain here, to protect the monastery. Shamir’s people only brought me news of the Western Church attack on the Holy Tomb of Cichol this morning. I believe the Western Church chose to attack at this moment because of the unrest in Remire. I must go now, fly there as fast as possible, before they destroy it.”

“Then at least let me come too,” said Byleth, stepping forward. Dimitri’s eyes shot open in shock, quickly twisting in disdain as he watched her address Seteth. “I will fly with Flayn. If you’re fighting with a whole contingent you will need backup, no matter how skilled you are.

“Besides,” she added, giving a sly grin, “I’m sure the Sword of the Creator will scare away half of them before they even make a move.”

Wishing to stop this nonsense, Dimitri’s mind raced, searching for what to say. Unfortunately Seteth answered first. “Fine, but you and Flayn only have an hour to prepare. I will meet you down at the wyvern roost.” Giving the Prince a wary glance, he walked past them all through the south exit of the Entrance Hall. Dimitri returned his look with a withering glare.

Feeling like he was losing control of the situation, Dimitri grabbed Byleth by the arm. He pulled her, whirling her about to face him, almost as though they were in a dance. “Are you sure, Professor?” he asked, hoping his worry and heartache were evident on his voice. “I won’t be there to protect you.”

Byleth yanked her arm from him, her face twisting in anger. Dammit, that was a mistake, he thought as he watched her. A crowd was forming around them, having heard Flayn’s spat with her brother from the Dining Hall. Her eyes flicking around the room to the students and staff who had come to watch, he said in a less loud tone to Dimitri, “I will be traveling with Administrator Seteth and Flayn on his mission. During this time I must entrust the well-being of the Blue Lions to Your Highness. Do your most to assist with the refugees.”

Shit, she’s actually going with him! he thought in a panic as her eyes stared back up into his.

Without wasting another moment to consider his move, the young Prince acted on instinct. Grasping for her arm again, he pulled her to him, and pressed his lips to hers. This was their first kiss in weeks and Dimitri had missed the feel and taste of her desperately. In his heart he despaired that Byleth did not kiss him back, merely standing there, fuming under his touch.

He had kissed her many times before, and this was likely his last chance before she disappeared on a journey with Seteth. The bastard looked amazing in that armor too, he was remiss to admit. Dimitri saw how not only Byleth, but all of the other women present couldn’t peel their eyes from him as he marched through the hall. Apparently, Seteth wearing armor was a rare occurrence.

Distracted by trying to kiss his beloved, he barely noticed the gasps around him in the hall. Releasing her from the disappointing kiss, he looked to her indigo eyes. Hoping he looked at her with the longing he felt, he said softly, “Be careful Byleth.”

Dimitri watched her as she stepped back from him, clenching her fists. He was fully prepared for her to punch him right there in front of everyone, and he knew he deserved it. He would welcome it at this point, after the lack of emotion and contact from her in the past weeks. He just wanted some kind of reaction from her, to know she still cared, in some way at least. Despite himself, he felt himself grin as he watched her in her muted fury.

Instead, Byleth turned to Flayn. Dimitri followed her gaze, noting the green-haired girl’s eyes were wide with shock. Her reaction prompted him to look around the hall, where many more had similar looks to them. To his chagrin, Edelgard was amongst the crowd, giving him a withering glare. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but while he wanted most people to see that kiss, he didn’t like the Edelgard had.

When Byleth simply told the girl to get packing, Dimitri’s heart fell once more, even though he knew that was the likely outcome. Without looking behind her, Byleth marched out of the hall, Flayn on her heels. The other girl had much more trouble ignoring the unwanted attention, looking back frequently as they walked. She made eye contact with Dimitri and threw him the nastiest look he had ever seen on the healer.

His attention on the girls exiting the hall, he didn’t notice Edelgard approach him. Hubert, her ever present shadow, hung back, watching carefully. “I expect that sort of behavior from that lothario you call friend, but not from you. I thought you were better than that.” Her condemnation stung more than he expected it would.

“I didn’t know you thought of me,” he quipped back, wishing to return the sting. Any other girl would quip back or smack him, or do something, anything. But Edelgard merely watched him with her intense gaze. He felt small under her gaze, like she was sizing him up and found him wanting. If only he could talk to her, perhaps that would help him understand this new Edelgard that was so different from the one he remembered from his childhood.

While he was waiting for Edelgard to make her reply, he felt a strong hand grab his elbow and jerk him back. Turning to the figure in alarm he saw Felix, fury on his face. “What the fuck was that!?” admonished the young man, attempting his best whisper. As Dimitri was about to answer, Felix interrupted him, “No, I don’t want to hear it. We are going to the classroom now!”

Not wishing to cause even more of a scene than he already had, Dimitri allowed himself to be pulled along by Felix. He noted in dismay that Ingrid and Annette had also been attendance during his little display, and were following closely behind. Looking back, Ingrid seemed almost as furious as Felix, while Annette seemed slightly bemused.

Well, the cat’s out of the bag on this one.

Once they were in the classroom, Dimitri wrested his arm away from Felix. Every single one of the Blue Lions students was there now, even the perpetually late Sylvain. Dimitri hoped that at least the “lothario” as Edelgard had so aptly named him would see his side of things.

When Felix barged into the classroom, dragging his Prince behind him roughly, those present turned to the commotion. Ingrid, bless her soul, closed the doors of the classroom behind her, mumbling something about not wanting the rest of the classes to hear. Felix was not often angry, but when he was, he made himself heard.

Seeing how the ducal heir was manhandling his Prince, Dedue had stepped forward immediately. The two had been at odds ever since the school year started. Mercedes held him back, wrapping her arms around his softly. Dimitri’s heart ached at the simple and gentle affection the woman showed his friend, wishing he had the same from Byleth.

“What is the meaning of this?” bellowed Dedue. His deep, resonant voice caused the rest of the students to still and silence themselves. Remaining by Mercedes’ side, he instead demanded, “Felix, why are you dragging the Prince behind you like that? It is most unsightly.”

“Because this fool just forced himself on the Professor in front of everyone at breakfast!” shouted Felix, gesturing wildly at Dimitri. The Prince’s eyes went wide as several gasps came from those who had not been present for the event. Sylvain simply coughed as he suppressed a laugh, remaining in his seat near the door.

“I did not!” exclaimed Dimitri, indignant at the characterization.

“Do not lie, Prince,” seethed Felix. “I saw it with my own eyes! You pulled her to you and made her kiss you!”

“She didn’t look like she wanted to be kissed,” added Ingrid, her arms crossed.

Dimitri sputtered as he tried to think of words in reply to their accusations. His heart fell in his chest, realizing they were right, but he could not admit as much to himself. It hurt too much. “You don’t understand, I’ve — we’ve kissed before! Many times in fact!”

At that admission, the half that knew of their affair were silent, while they other half erupted in questions and accusations.

“What, you’ve kissed the Professor before!?”

“That doesn’t matter if she didn’t want to kiss you now!”

“How could you!? She’s your Professor! That’s like kissing Manuela or Shamir!”

The cacophony of questions and accusations made the dim light in the room feel much too bright. The glimmer of a migraine he felt coming on before was now blooming into a full on explosion in his brain. Grunting in pain, he fell forward, his hand on his head. Familiar with the Prince’s headaches, Dedue knelt forward, his hand resting on the Prince’s shoulder. Thankfully, Mercedes was present, and she immediately put both of her hands to either side of his head. Dimitri could feel the impossible pain inside his head begin to fade as she pumped magic through her hands into him. Even with her magic, he was exhausted and dizzy, feeling unable to get up.

“We will talk of this later,” stated Dedue. His tone brooked no further discussion as he helped Dimitri to his feet. Dedue continued to hold onto Dimitri’s arm as he led him from the classroom.

“Here,” said Sylvain, taking hold of Dimitri’s other arm. “Let me help.” Neither Dedue nor Dimitri protested as the red-haired young man assisted.

The walk back to his room was a daze. Usually quiet during a school day, the lower level of the dormitories were abuzz with life. The young families who had taken up residence temporarily were terribly thankful, always making it known to the Academy students how much they appreciated giving up their space. Dimitri just enjoyed watching the young children playing in the lawn out front, safe and happy for the moment.

Once up the stairs, which had taken entirely too long in Dimitri’s opinion, Dedue all but carried him to his bed. Since Dedue had come to stay with him, the floor between his bed and his desk was filled with a temporary mattress and bedding, and Dimitri had to be careful not to trip. Sylvain shut the door behind them as Dedue helped his Prince out of his boots and armored gauntlets.

“So, Dimitri,” began Sylvain, settling into his desk chair. “Mind telling us the whole story? Unless that would make your headache come back.” Dimitri was slightly bewildered that the usually carefree Sylvain was taking an authoritative tone with him at this moment. The man was almost three years his senior though. He wondered if Sylvain was even older than the Professor.

“It never really left,” admitted the Prince, laying down against his pillows with a grunt. The blinding pain was gone, but even Mercedes couldn’t remove the feelings of dizziness and the dull throb that remained. Dedue sat at the end of his bed, and Dimitri could feel his eyes on him as well.

“Well, Your Highness,” asked his best friend, his voice calm. “What exactly happened?”

For a long moment Dimitri rested against his bed and collected his thoughts. What should he tell them? Should he tell them about all of the stolen kisses in the weeks before? About how close and comforted he felt when she rode with him on the borrowed wyvern back from Faerghus months ago? About how he had stupidly attacked Seteth for walking her home, only to have her flying off with him now?

Heaving a sigh, he decided on saying as little as possible. “This morning, she overheard me talking to a visiting dignitary.” He didn’t want to admit that dignitary was his step-uncle, Lord Arundel. Not yet, at least, that would open a whole different can of worms. “I confronted her, and as we were talking, Seteth and Flayn showed up, fighting over something about travel. When the Professor said she, and only she, was going with them, I panicked. I didn’t want her to leave, I wanted to show her I cared about her, so I kissed her.”

“Ah,” said Sylvain, in a more understanding tone, leaning back into his chair. “You said you kissed her before? I knew there was something between you two, but I didn’t think you’d actually acted on it.”

“Just kissing,” grunted Dimitri, laying his arm against his eyes, shutting out the light. Except for that time in the library where I was too forward and touched her breast, he thought, ashamedly. Now he felt the same shame creeping up in his gullet, making his arms feel cold.

“I see,” said Sylvain. Dimitri could feel the tension hang in the air and thought he should say something. Thankfully, Sylvain asked Dedue, “Did you know about this?”

“I knew that they had kissed, yes,” admitted Dedue.

“Really?” whistled Sylvain. “Dimitri, you dog, never thought you’d go after someone so —”

“So what?” snapped Dimitri, cutting him off. He leaned on one arm to look at Sylvain better. “Watch your words, Byleth is an honorable woman.”

“Exactly, she’s a woman,” explained Sylvain. “She’s not just some girl who would be impressed by you being the Crown Prince.” He shrugged and crossed his arms. “I had a mind to woo her myself, but she didn’t seem interested Plus, she’s staff, I didn’t want to get her in trouble.

“How did you manage to catch her attention?” Before Dimitri had a chance to reply, Sylvain continued, “Though, the way Felix explained it, she also didn’t seem too interested in you this morning. If that’s true, that’s not okay you know. A girl has got to want you to kiss her man.”

“I know,” grumbled Dimitri, laying back down. Wishing to tell his friends of his true worries, he admitted, “It’s that damned Seteth. I get so mad when I see her around him. You didn’t see the way he looked this morning, in his armor. Literally every woman’s eyes were on him, some of the men’s too.”

“So what?” asked Sylvain, nonchalantly.

Dimitri snapped his head to look at his old friend, drawing his brows together in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘so what’?”

“So what if she likes him?” asked Sylvain. “You hating him isn’t going to change that. It will probably make her dislike you and favor him more, if I’m being honest.” Dimitri looked to Dedue, and the young man’s face was set in a grim line. If he didn’t know it better, Dedue was agreeing with Sylvain.

“That doesn’t make sense,” growled Dimitri, closing his eyes.

“Dimitri, you’re going to have to learn, you can’t change people, only yourself,” said Sylvain. He sounded entirely too mature in that moment, nothing like the womanizer he usually portrayed himself to be. “You can’t make Byleth do anything; like or dislike anyone. All you can do is be a charming Prince and try to woo her yourself. If that doesn’t work, then fuck it, find another girl. Honestly, another girl who isn’t staff is probably a better idea anyway.”

“But I don’t want another girl,” grumbled Dimitri.

“Your Highness,” said Dedue softly, “I am remiss to admit it, but perhaps you should listen to Sylvain. He knows more about matters of the heart than any of us. Though,” he said, his voice turning more harsh, “I wish he’d be more gentle with some of those hearts.”

“Hey, hey,” said Sylvain, leaning back and putting up both hands in protest. “I’m always perfectly clear with the girls I go out with what I am and am not looking for. I’m just telling the Prince how it is.” Dimitri heard the wood of the chair squeak slightly as Sylvain moved it back against the floor. “That’s about all I’ve got to say. Hey, Dimitri, promise me something, yeah?”

“What?” groaned Dimitri, feeling his head throb further.

“Don’t embarrass the Professor again like that. You may have deserved it, but she didn’t. If you care about her you’ll talk to her and make it crystal clear what you want. Until then, get some rest. Sounds like she’s going to be gone for a few days.” A beat went by while Dimitri heard the door to his room open. “Come on, Dedue, let’s get back to class. His royal pain needs some time alone.”

With dismay, Dimitri felt Dedue’s weight lift from the end of his bed. Even with his eyes closed he could sense that Dedue had shut the curtains tight against the window of his bedroom to block out the daylight. As Dedue stepped over his makeshift bed to the door, Dimitri wished he would stay. He didn’t want to be alone.

When he heard the door shut, Dimitri opened his eyes. Staring at the now shadowed ceiling of his dormitory room, the young Prince heaved a heavy sigh. He knew the wisdom of Sylvain’s words, that he could not change anything about Byleth. He only wished he understood better what she wanted so he could give that to her.

I really messed up today didn’t I?

Notes:

Due to me reworking this whole fic I've found some gems like this conversation with Sylvain that I wanted to add to, namely Sylvain being critical about "going after staff". It's an important plot point later.

Chapter 56: Seteth - Rhodos Coast

Summary:

Seteth, with Byleth and Flayn, attack and dispatch the infidels at St. Cichol's Tomb.

Notes:

Content warning: descriptions of battle.

Despite flying north during the late autumn of the Ethereal Moon, the flight was relatively uneventful. At points during their travels, Flayn had used her newly acquired wind magic to push them even faster int he correct direction. During their rare moments of downtime, Seteth had warned his daughter to conserve her magic as she would likely need it once they reached the monument.

Seteth was thoroughly impressed with how well Byleth flew on Saint. The old wyvern drake was curmudgeonly at the best of times, but he would trust no other to ferry his daughter. He found that he also felt more at ease with Byleth riding on his oldest companion.

Perhaps Saint recognized my affection for the girl? Is that why he so readily accepted her?

Byleth may have been a novice, but she brooked no complaint at the cold air travel. She was as well, if not better, insulated than he and Flayn. The woman was clearly competent, though Seteth realized he shouldn't be shocked by that anymore.

Unfortunately, they had departed near noontide, so it was well past dark by the time they had arrived at the Rhodos Coast. Luckily, the Western Church fools had lit plenty of camp fires along the beach, making them easy to spot. There were only four encampments, and Seteth guessed, based on the tents present, there were only about ten men in each.

Seteth bade them land on a hill overlooking the beach. The waning moon provided little light. He and Flayn would be able to see alright, but Byleth would be at a disadvantage. From their perch, he could see the monument to Saint Cichol he had built centuries ago. As expected, it was slightly underwater, as it was high tide at the moment.

The plan was simple: Flayn would enhance the existing campfires one by one from the skies using her magic, while Byleth attacked the nearest camp on foot, and Seteth divebombed those who escaped with Macha. The benefit of a war-trained wyvern was that they could attack as well as their rider, and Macha was eager to demonstrate her skills.

The first two camps were dispatched with ease. Seteth and Byleth had surprised the first camp, cutting many men down before they had even awoken. The second camp was in complete chaos from the fire, and most fled when they saw Byleth’s Sword of the Creator. Seteth still felt sick every time he saw the ghastly thing, but he tamped down those feelings in favor of the weapon’s usefulness.

The third and fourth camps were better prepared, having heard the alarms coming from the first two camps. When mages came out to counter spell Flayn’s work, they presented the perfect sitting ducks for Seteth to skewer from the sky. The rest of the men from the third camp were cut down or scared away by Byleth.

The fourth and final camp was the one closest to the monument. Seteth had guessed correctly that this is where the commander of the Western Church forces had set up. As Macha flew to the camp, Seteth picked out a man who looked to be giving orders, chambered his lance as though he were jousting on horseback, and pointed the tip at the man. Seeing Seteth flying towards him, the man shouted, “Heretics! You defile the Goddess! This sacred coast belongs to us!”

With the full force of his and his wyvern’s weight falling from the sky, Seteth’s lance skewered the man right through his chest. Jumping from his mount, Seteth fell upon the man, holding tight to his weapon. “You are the heretics,” he growled, pulling his spear from the man’s chest, causing an eruption of blood.

Around him stood several of the Western Church forces, stunned at his barbarism. “Begone from here at once!” he shouted. He considered using his dragon voice, but deemed it unwise in this instance. Most heeded his command, though some did attempt a final stand. They were quickly cut down by himself and Byleth.

Remarkably, neither he nor either of the girls had been hurt. Adrenaline still pumping through his veins, he stood, looking to the monument they had all fought to save. The tide was almost out, and soon he would be able to retrieve the treasure he had hidden there so long ago.

Chapter 57: Flayn - Rhodos Coast

Summary:

Flayn and her father visit her mother's grave.

Notes:

Content warning: discussions of death.

As the sun rose above the eastern hills, Flayn’s couldn’t help but smile as she saw how Byleth focused on her father. Despite having seen him fight many times during the great war, she was always amazed at his expertise with a lance, especially from wyvern-back. It’s why he was almost always part of the vanguard as its commander, while her uncles Macuil and Indech commanded their own battalions from further back.

Flayn wondered where her uncles were as she followed Byleth’s gaze to her father. From what she understood, her uncles had helped her father build this monument to her late mother while she slept. Now they had scattered to the wind, as had the handful of other Nabateans to survive the Great War. Now it was just her father and Lady Rhea left of their race, at least in Fodlan. As far as she knew, anyway.

Just as in the past, her father had been a marvel to witness on the battlefield. Seteth wielded his spear like a dancer, maneuvering it gracefully while still astride Macha. His final, glorious leap and impalement of the enemy commander was like watching a hero of old come alive from the ancient tales.

At some point, Seteth had removed his helmet and goggles, making his every expression visible as he slaughtered the infidels. Flayn remembered how Byleth had gasped in surprise when her father had snarled like a beast as he fought. If only she knew the full truth of our bestial nature, pondered Flayn as she walked with her Professor on the beach.

Once the last of the Western Church men had been dispatched, Seteth stood, breathing heavily. Flayn and Byleth watched him as he turned his face to the sun, basking in what little warmth it offered on the early winter morning. The bright light made the emerald of his eyes sparkle on his stoic, masculine face as he stared out across the ocean.

“You’re staring,” giggled Flayn, causing the young woman to flinch.

“Sorry, he’s just so … beautiful.” Blinking rapidly, her ocean eyes darting between Flayn and her father, Byleth placed a hand over her mouth. “Oh Goddess, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Beast or not, it seems my father has an admirer, she thought, the notion bittersweet. To Flayn, her mother, for whose tomb they were about to enter, had only been dead for a few years. But for her father, she had been dead for centuries. And, from what she surmised, he had not taken another lover the entire time.

Deciding to be happy for her father, Flayn took a deep breath and smiled softly. “Why not?” she asked, following Byleth’s gaze. “I’m sure he’d enjoy the complement.”

Seteth was walking out into the water, his once bright armor covered in blood. Ignoring the weight of the sea water filling his boots, her father continued through the water onto a sand bank with a stone monument. To those who followed the Church of Seiros it was known as the Tomb of Saint Cichol, but Flayn knew its true purpose.

Her emotions sitting heavy in her chest, Flayn nudged Byleth. “Come on,” she said taking Byleth’s hand. In her other hand she held the wrapped flowers she had taken from Garreg Mach’s greenhouse. “We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

As the girls approached, they could see Seteth remove a glove off his left hand. Taking a small dagger from his belt, he pricked his index finger. Kneeling down, he drew a symbol on the stone with his blood. “Ordaím duit a oscailt!” he said, his voice clear and commanding.

Flayn shivered when she heard her father speak the Nabatean tongue. It had been so long, and she had missed her native language dearly. Unfortunately, it was yet another part of herself she needed to sacrifice to hide in this new world.

After a moment Flayn heard the scraping of stone against stone, a passage appearing before them. Looking to his daughter with a sad smile, Seteth stepped into the newly revealed crypt under the sand. Flayn followed, gently pulling Byleth along with her.

Inside was a small chamber, dark with shadows. Releasing Byleth’s hand, Flayn cast a simple fairy light spell, causing three tiny balls of light to float above her head. The light was enough to illuminate the small space, showing three objects before them on a stone altar: a spear, a staff, and an urn.

Tears on the edge of his eyes, Seteth said to Flayn, “Go on.” Tears alighting on her own cheeks, Flayn approached the urn, opening the package in her hands. Inside were the fresh, if slightly crushed, flowers.

“Hello, mother,” said Flayn, her voice full of emotion. She placed the flowers next to the urn. Kneeling before it, she allowed the tears to flow freely, if silently down her face. Her father walked forward, kneeling as well, and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry the flowers aren’t very nice,” she sniffed, trying to place them artfully around her mother’s ashes. “We had to fight some bad people and they got squished a little.”

Next to her, Seteth stood. “I’ll let you have some time with her.”

“No, father, please, don’t go,” Flayn said, grabbing her father’s hand. Squeezing it tight, she said, “I want you to stay. I won’t be long.” Nodding, Seteth stood to the side.

She noted that by that point Byleth had left them alone in the tomb.

“Besides,” said Flayn, wiping the tears from her face, “This is something I want to say to both of you.” Looking back at the urn, she sighed. “It’s been a very long time since you died, Mother. I’ve been asleep for most of it, but the world has changed so very much. But I want you to know, that your sacrifice … our sacrifice … was worth it.

“Flowers grow, babies laugh, birds sing. The world you imagined exists, and I am now able to live in it. So,” she added, her voice breaking, “Thank you for fighting to make it real. For me, for father … for everyone.

“Speaking of,” she added with a coy smile, “There is a new woman who has caught Father’s eye —”

“— Flayn!?” admonished Seteth, but she just ignored him and continued on.

“— she is a truly amazing person. She is kind, strong, and terribly patient with my incessant questions. I think you’d like her.” Looking to her father, she concluded with, “And, I think, you’d want him to be happy. To continue on and live his life to the fullest.”

Knowing full well that the concept of “living life to the fullest” was essentially her mother’s mantra during the darkest days of the war, Flayn stood, her eyes still on her fathers. “She wouldn’t be very happy with you, you know,” she said, somewhat subdued. “Waiting a thousand years for me to wake up with only a couple books written during that time.”

“Dear one,” said her father, tears returning to his eyes, “I had lost my wife. I couldn’t lose my only child as well.” Cognizant of the blood still on his armor, Seteth did not reach out to embrace her.

“I know you have feelings for her,” mused Flayn, keeping eye contact with her father. “And it’s clear she has feelings for you as well. If you needed permission to court her, I’m giving it to you.”

Seteth merely smirked and reached for the ancient mythril spear laid next to her mother’s urn. “Why, thank you daughter,” he chuffed, lifting the spear. Placing the dull end in the dirt of the tomb, he added, “Also, I’ve written over two hundred books. I’d say that’s more than a couple.”

“Oh shush,” she scoffed, giving a gentle smack on the arm. Grabbing the mythril staff on the other side of the urn. “Let’s go find the Professor. I think we made her uncomfortable with our crying.”

Chapter 58: Seteth - Coastal Cottage

Summary:

Seteth and Flayn tell Byleth one of their secrets.

Seteth had noticed when Byleth left them in their moment of mourning, but did not immediately go after her. He wasn’t sure why, but it was important to him that the young woman saw that the tomb was not for some storied Saint, but a real person. A woman who still had people alive who had known and loved her. Perhaps she would understand him and Flayn better if she knew.

“I think we should tell her, Father,” said Flayn quietly. “She’s done so much for us, she deserves to know.”

Seteth touched the urn gently. Closing his eyes, he did his best to remember the woman whose ashes resided within, but all that came to mind were blurred images and shadows. It had been so long since he had last seen his wife; she was barely more than a myth to him at this point. Much more quickly than he would have liked, Byleth's visage appeared in his mind’s eye when he thought about a woman he cared for. Releasing his fingers from the urn, he wondered if Flayn was right: would his wife understand that he could love another, even after all this time?

Seteth’s wife and his daughter had died on the same day during the Great War, or at least that what he had thought. His brother Indech had managed to retrieve both of their bodies from the battlefield while Seteth was fighting a distance away. He still hated himself for not remaining by their side, believing that his wife was strong enough to protect their daughter. In the end, she was not, and Flayn, then Cethleann, had expended nearly all of her power trying to keep the Nabatean forces alive that day. From what Indech had told him, Flayn had collapsed just as her mother took a barrage that had been meant for their daughter. His wife was dead before she ever left the battlefield.

Seteth heard later from Macuil that the sacrifices made by his wife and daughter were enough to turn the tide. Seiros was able to challenge Nemesis directly, swiftly defeating him before all creation. After their leader was dead, the Agarthan horde lost their will to fight. Seteth assumed it was because some kind of magic connection that had been severed, instead of any kind of loyalty to Nemesis.

In his sorrow, Seteth, with Indech's assistance, had brought his wife and his daughter back to this very spot. First, they cremated his wife's body so it could never be defiled and hacked apart to be made into weapons. Second, they built the stone cottage that still stood at the edge of the beach, where Seteth resided with his daughter for a millennium while she recovered. Finally, after Indech had retreated to his swamp, Seteth built the tomb for his wife's ashes, later placing his and his daughter's sacred weapons inside as well. Macuil had placed the protection spell on the tomb, only allowing entrance to those with Nabatean blood who knew the old tongue. It was only later, after Seiros had established her church, that it became known as a monument to Saint Cichol.

Exiting the tomb, the Spear of Assal in hand, Seteth searched for Byleth. She had made her way to the main beach. To his delight she was interacting with the wyverns. Using a rag she had found amongst the abandoned campsite, she was washing the blood from Macha’s scales. Saint appeared to be supervising. If Seteth didn’t know any better, the old drake was watching the young hen to make sure she behaved.

When Flayn had stepped from the tomb, Seteth said, “Dún go dtí go n-ordóidh duine eile de mo chuid fola duit.” Obeying his words, the stone slab slid back into place.

Flayn paused, watching the stone. “Goodbye mother. I promise I’ll bring nicer flowers next time.”

Walking with Flayn through the shallows, he waved to Byleth. She waved back, her face expressionless. As he approached her, he said, “We have a cotttage at the edge of the beach. We’ll go rest there before venturing back home.”

Looking to the wyverns, Byleth asked him, “What about these two?”

“It’s okay,” said Flayn, “There are plenty of caves around here. They can find somewhere to hunker down.”

“But,” asked Byleth, perplexed by Flayn’s words. “Aren’t you afraid they won’t come back?”

“Not at all,” said Seteth, grinning. “Wyverns, especially these two, form strong bonds with their riders. Saint is very fond of Flayn, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. He’d never leave her side.”

“Even though he’s technically your wyvern,” commented Flayn, smirking at Seteth.

Seteth paused to gather his saddle and saddlebag from Macha, causing the girls to do the same with Saint. Due to Saint’s saddle being much larger Seteth handed his extra saddlebag to Flayn and removed the male wyvern’s double saddle himself. Once free of the weight, the wyverns took off for the cliffs their wild kin dwelt within.

“Come on Professor!” urged Flayn, grabbing Byleth by the hand. “I’ve never shown anyone my room before! You’d be the first!”

“Your room?” asked Byleth, her eyes slightly wider than normal.

Seteth decided to answer the question present in her expression. “This is where Flayn and I lived before coming to Garreg Mach,” he explained, tromping heavily across the beach. Despite being made relatively lightweight for air travel, the armor still increased his weight uncomfortably for walking through the soft sand. The cold air from the North Faerghian sea didn’t help his comfort, or likely the girls' either. He sighed gratefully as he stepped onto the first brushes of coastal grass.

“Where’s the cottage?” asked Byleth looking around.

“Oh, sorry,” said Seteth, placing the saddles on the ground. Waving his hand, he spoke another incantation: “Nocht tú féin.” Before them a simple, ancient cottage shimmered into view. The illusion enchantment on his home was another one of Macuil’s gifts.

“Wow,” whistled Byleth as Flayn pulled her along. “I thought you didn’t know magic?” she asked, her head turning to Seteth.

“Long story,” mumbled Seteth, unsure whether or not to reveal quite that much to the Professor. Before entering the dwelling, Seteth set about removing his blood speckled armor. He noted in dismay that even his leathers had gotten enemy blood on them.

“Here, let me help,” offered Byleth. Before he could refuse her, she started to unlatch the buckles on the side of his breastplate. Seteth felt awkward as the beautiful woman felt around his body. He desperately wished to touch her, but decided against it, mostly because his daughter was present.

Pulling the plate from his torso, she started to work on undoing one of his vambraces. Once one was off, he stepped back from her. “Thank you, Miss Eisner,” he murmured, forcing his voice to sound formal. “I can do the rest.”

“If you insist,” she said, leaving him to the rest of his armor. Gathering up the pieces of armor she had removed, Byleth walked them to the cottage. “Where should I put these?” she asked.

“Here,” said Flayn, placing an old blanket just outside the door. “I was lucky enough to not get splattered, but the both of you look worse for wear. Just place your dirty gear there,” she commanded, pointing to the blanket. “We can clean it in the morning.”

“The morning?” asked Byleth, “We’re going to stay here for that long?”

“The wyverns need the rest,” grunted Seteth, lifting the two large Wyvern saddles once again. Thankfully, neither of them had any blood on them, so he felt comfortable bringing them inside. Even if the things were going to take up most of the indoor space, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make to keep their well tanned leather safe from the ocean spray. He considered doing the same with his armor and traveling leathers, but ultimately decided that one day sitting outside wouldn’t hurt them too terribly bad.

Placing the large saddles to one corner, Seteth grunted, “And frankly, so do we.” Inside the cottage was a single large room that doubled as kitchen and living area, with two doors that led to the small bedrooms at the back. The latrine was a few hundred feet away, around the bend of the hill. Seteth had originally wanted to install plumbing, like he had enjoyed in the advanced cities like Zanado, but realized that it was too suspicious for a simple cottage like this.

“I’m going to change out of this … mess,” he said, retreating to his old room. Inside was the same small wood frame bed and small writing desk he remembered. Just how he left it a few years earlier, if somewhat covered in dust.

In the twenty-odd years since he came work with Rhea at Garreg Mach he had used the room less and less, but he still returned frequently to see how Flayn was faring. She had shown signs of waking permanently from her millennium long slumber before he left, but after consulting with Rhea, he understood that she was still not ready. Every few months he would return to see her, and he stayed in this room every time he did so. It was now just under two years since he was last here, having left when Flayn woke up and was fully ambulatory.

Upon seeing his ancient bed, Seteth finally began to feel the ache of exhaustion from this long day. He, as well as the girls, had been awake for more than a day and needed to rest. But first, while the adrenaline was still in his veins, he needed to make sure his daughter got some food into her.

My daughter, he considered, pulling the gold circlet from his brow. Dammit, Flayn’s right, I must tell Byleth the truth. Placing the circlet on his old desk, Seteth pulled the remainder of the soiled leathers from his body. With only his woolen hose and loose cotton undershirt on, he left his old room.

He was pleased to find Byleth already sitting at the tiny kitchen table, chewing on travel rations. She was wearing snug woolen undergarments, the kind designed to be worn under flying leathers. Seteth flushed as he noted how close fitting the hose was, wrapping around the curves of her body.

Swallowing, embarrassed by feeling silly for how terrified he was of revealing a single one of his secrets, he sat across from her. Byleth smiled at him in her uniquely muted way, handing him some dried fruit. “Dedue made it,” she offered, “It’s really good, you should try it.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking what looked like apple chips from her. “Miss Eisner, I must thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” Sighing, he looked out to the tiny shuttered window, forgetting that he had not opened it. Wishing to conceal himself as a poor fisherman, he had never put glass in it. “I can only hope the Western Church will see reason and abandoned this place.”

Flayn had exited her old room as they were talking. Smiling sadly, she walked up to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. Even when he was sitting Flayn was tiny next to him, only standing a head taller than him.

“To be safe, we have retrieved the holy artifacts.” He looked to the lance and staff propped against the wall near the saddles. “We cannot risk them falling into their hands.”

Sighing, he leaned back into his chair, placing his hand on Flayn’s. “Despite these awful circumstances, I … we were glad to return. The coast holds a certain sentimental significance to Flayn and I.” Looking to Byleth, he watched her face as he said, “I’m sure you’ve noticed that the crypt did not contain the body of Saint Cichol.”

“No,” admitted Byleth, her eyes downcast to her hands. She played with a dried apple chip awkwardly as she sat at the table with him. “I overheard Flayn say ‘mother’ when you were in there.”

“She is safe now,” spoke Flayn, tears welling in her eyes. Closing her eyes, Flayn clasped her hands together and prayed. “May you finally find peace, Mother.”

Looking to his daughter, his heart ached for how much she had lost. While he had experienced the loss and grief of losing his wife and people centuries ago, he had also had the time to mourn, and in many cases, forget. For Flayn, it was as fresh as if it had happened only a few years previously.

Turning back to Byleth, he placed his other hand on top of hers, wishing to steady her nervous fiddling with the piece of dry apple. As he touched her hand, she started, her eyes darting up to meet his. “I suppose you have earned the right to know, but you must promise that this secret remain between us.”

“Of course,” breathed Byleth. Seteth believed her without question.

“You see, Flayn is actually my daughter. My late wife …” Pausing, he took a deep breath, wishing to contain his emotions. “… my late wife is … was Flayn’s mother.”

“Oh,” muttered Byleth, her eyes darting from Seteth to Flayn, and back again. Sitting back in her chair, still staring at them both, she conceded, “That actually makes a lot of sense. More sense than you being her brother, to be honest.”

Seteth snorted, crossing his arms. “And here I was thinking we had hidden our true relationship well.” Looking back to Flayn, his countenance serious, he added, “As you have experienced with Remire, there are many who would hunt down Flayn for her … unique blood. I felt that falsifying her identity was necessary to hide her from such … individuals.”

Smirking, he continued, “Mercifully, I happen to look quite young for my age, so I thought the ruse was convincing.”

Byleth coughed, a blush rising to her cheeks. Flayn giggled, seemingly in on the joke. Looking to the two girls, Seteth asked, “What is it? Do I not look young?”

“I mean, you don’t look that old,” began Byleth, her fair skin noticeably red. “But I’ve been around mercenaries my whole life, and nobody I’d consider as ‘young’ would have tattoos like that.” Seteth flinched when she pointed at his arms. In his exhausted state, he had rolled his sleeves up without thinking. The deep blues and teals of his dense tattoos were on full display on his forearms.

As he strove to unroll his sleeves and cover himself, Byleth interjected, “You don’t need to do that, I think they look great.” Her face now fully pink, she admitted, “I’ve seen them before, when you weren’t wearing your doublet. But … because you always worked so hard to keep them hidden I … didn’t want to say anything.”

Flayn laughed at Byleth’s words as she stepped away from the table. Moving over to the tiny window in the kitchen, she unshuttered it and looked outside. A cool winter sea breeze swept in as she did so. “My mother loved the coast so much. We came here so often before … she died.” Sighing sadly, Flayn leaned on the window frame. “Fishing was her favorite pass time.”

“I remember it fondly,” mused Seteth, watching his daughter. “Ever since you were little you loved the fish she would catch.”

“I probably love fish so much because of her,” murmured Flayn, her eyes still out on the beach.

Hi voice soft, Seteth reflected “I still come here to fish sometimes, using the skills my wife taught me. It reminds me how deeply I appreciate those years, and how I wish I could return to them.” In his dismay, he noticed Byleth retreat slightly as he spoke those words.

Stepping back from the window, Flayn shuttered it once more. The cool air was once more held at bay, and Seteth figured he should build a fire before they were too cold to move. “We cannot turn back time, father.” Looking to Byleth, she added, “We must live our lives fully in the present.”

“Your mother used to say something like that,” hummed Seteth, looking at his daughter. His eyes darted from her to the young woman who sat across from him, and then down to his hands. “Dwell too much on the past and you may be unable to move forward.”

And I have much more past than most, he considered, watching Byleth for any reaction.

“Thank you,” she said, standing from the table. Instead of walking to Seteth, she walked to Flayn, wrapping the girl in an embrace. Watching her father, Flayn returned Byleth’s hug, an apologetic expression on his daughter’s face. “I’m so sorry you’ve also lost your mother,” said the Professor, still hugging Flayn. Releasing the girl, she turned to Seteth. In a more stilted but no less soft tone, she said, “And that you lost your wife. I can’t even imagine.”

Before he had a chance to reply, Byleth was walking out the door. “It’s cold, I need to fetch firewood.” Seteth noted that the woman didn’t even bother to don her boots before stepping out onto the sandy coastal grass.

When her father didn’t immediately get up to follow her, Flayn turned to him in a huff. “Well,” admonished Flayn, crossing her arms, “Go after her you old fool!”

“I don’t think she wants me to,” he said darkly, feeling terribly ancient and exhausted in that moment. Instead of letting him wallow in self pity, his daughter grabbed his shoulder and shook it roughly.

“You are so stupid!” she cried, losing her temper. Seteth simply blinked at his daughter, surprised at her candor in this moment. “Did you not see how she was absolutely staring at you earlier? She called you beautiful for the Goddess’s sake! Go out there and talk to her right now or I will!”

Beautiful? Byleth called me that?

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, standing from the ancient kitchen chair. “Do you mind starting the fire while I go fetch her? I don’t think she’s aware of the firewood pile out back.”

“You first,” chuckled his daughter, gesturing to the door.

Taking his daughter’s advice, he followed the strange, enchanting young woman out into the cold.

Chapter 59: Byleth - Coastal Cottage

Summary:

Byleth and Seteth have a private discussion inside his home on the Rhodos Coast.

Byleth was gathering driftwood when Seteth found her. Her toes were impossibly cold, but she was so humiliated by the revelations of the day that she didn’t care. At least not yet. His soft voice startled her from behind so badly that she dropped the wood she was carrying.

“Goddess dammit!” she yelped as one of the pieces of driftwood hit her exposed foot. Seteth was at her side in an instant, much to her chagrin. Expecting him to help her with the wood, she was amazed when he lifted her from the cold ground.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he gazed down at her in his arms. His face was impossibly close to hers, his emerald eyes focused on her own. She relished how heat radiated from him, seeping into her skin as he held her. An altogether different heat radiated within her as she stared into his handsome face.

“Um …” she breathed, transfixed by his gaze. Not sure what to say, she merely stated, “I’m cold.”

Chuckling, Seteth turned to walk her back to the cottage. “Yes, well, you shouldn’t walk around in the winter barefoot then.” When they reached the door, he set her down gently. Opening the tiny portal, he waited for her to enter before he followed her in.

Inside a fire was already lit in the tiny stone fireplace. Seeing her consternation at the fire, he added, “I keep a stash of fire logs in the back. I asked Flayn to start it while I was out looking for you.”

“I wasn’t gone that long, was I?” she asked, moving to stand near the flames. The tips of her fingers and toes stung with the sudden heat on them. Sitting on the couch across from the fire, she rubbed at her toes to get the blood flowing.

Settling next to her, he murmured, “Longer than you think.” Byleth’s skin buzzed where they his leg rested against hers on the small couch.

They sat together in the quiet moments that followed. Flayn had disappeared, retreating to her old room. Unsure of what to do, Byleth let her gaze drift to Seteth’s unmarred face, illuminated by the flickering flames. She noticed, with mild curiosity, that he had removed his ever-present golden circlet. Its absence made him seem more real, more human; just another man with faint wrinkles etched into his skin and a shadow of stubble after a long day of travel.

However, the notion of him being like any other man broke when she considered his too-green eyes. Even in this dim firelight his eyes took on an unnatural and altogether magical hue. Byleth found she wished she could look at those eyes forever.

Sensing her gaze on him, Seteth finally spoke, “I may still love her. A part of me always will, I believe.” Byleth watched him nervously clasp and unclasp his hands while he searched his thoughts.

“However … I have not felt the need to … mourn her, as such, in a very, very long time.” Heaving a sigh, he added, “I never thought I could feel this way for another woman …” He turned to her, his face soft and thoughtful “… until I met you.”

Byleth felt her belly flop and her pulse thrum in her ears at Seteth’s admission. This was entirely different than the awkward advances the Prince made towards her. Seteth was a grown man, mature and self aware. He knew what feelings, what love, really meant. But, did she? Was she ready for such serious affections?

Not sure what to expect, she merely watched him. Unlike the Prince, Seteth respected her space and autonomy, making no immediate move towards her. Instead, he stood from the couch and presented his hand to her, like he had on the first day they met. Taking it, she let him pull her to her feet in front of him.

Still holding her hand, he said in a low husky voice, “I have a sense that you feel the same way.” Softly, he ran a large calloused thumb over her knuckles. Byleth shivered under his touch, enjoying the featherlight sensation. “I wish to court you, Byleth Eisner.”

The formality of his words is what caused Byleth to finally crack a smile. Giving a soft chuckle, she answered him, “Why yes, Sir Seteth, you may court me.”

“I’m not a Knight,” he mumbled, smiling back at her.

“Could have fooled me,” she quipped, looking up at him. Her blood thundered in her ears as he looked up at the tall man, eyes shimmering in the fire light.

Byleth held her breath as he bent down, moving his face to her level. Trembling, she closed her eyes, gripping his hand tighter in anticipation. As Seteth’s lips met hers, she felt as though she were floating, the butterflies in her belly taking flight. He tasted of sweat and sea air, and it was the sweetest thing she had ever experienced.

All too soon he released her from the chaste kiss. Stepping back from her, gestured to the two rooms at the other end of the cottage. “You may take my old room. The quilt is warm and the room well insulated, as long as you keep the windows and door closed. I will sleep out here.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, half wishing he would join her in the bedroom. Her other half recognized that it was much too soon for both of them. There was something about Seteth that made him seem like a patient man, and she appreciated that.

“Yes, Byleth,” he said, nodding to her. “Now, go get some sleep. We have a long travel day in the morning.”

Acquiescing, Byleth retreated to Seteth's old cottage bedroom. Once inside, she enjoyed the simplicity and instantly recognized it as his. Climbing into the thin but long bed, she wrapped herself in the comfortable old quilt. In the haze of falling asleep, she idly recognized the comforting scent of Seteth all around her on the well-worn sheets.

Notes:

I like to think that Seteth gained many skills and hobbies over his many centuries, other than just writing. As a mere mortal who writes, I also like to do embroidery, knitting, crochet, painting, drawing, and yes, quilting. I can only imagine what masterpieces I could make with Seteth's time. :D

Chapter 60: Dimitri - Training Grounds

Summary:

Catherine and Dimitri have a moment during training.

The next morning, when Byleth had not returned, Dimitri did his best to remain calm. He wasn’t particularly worried about her, given her absolute mastery with the Sword of the Creator. Yet, he still worried. His greatest fear was what she could be doing alone with Seteth. Dimitri knew full well that Byleth was quite chaste, having pushed the Prince away several times when he wanted to go further than just kissing. He also knew the Administrator was extremely proper, practically embodying the chivalric code that the Knights of Seiros were meant to uphold.

Nevertheless, Dimitri worried, because Byleth was away while he remained behind. Without her.

Wishing to blow off some steam, Dimitri went to the training grounds. He was amused when he found Catherine there, instructing some students on swordplay. Wishing to join in, Dimitri went and found a training sword from those kept along the wall. Often he would train with his own sword, but it was at the blacksmith’s for repairs, its pommel having come loose.

Catching a glimpse of him, Catherine greeted him loudly, “Another training session I see! You’re quite dedicated!” Noticing the sword in his hand, she remarked, “And the sword as well? You weren’t any good with it when you were little.”

Dimitri snorted, following the simple strokes she was teaching the other students. They were working with the swords in a two handed motion, holding the hilt with one hand, and the pommel with the other. The simple longswords were also used with shields, but in duels they were used two handed. “And who told you that?”

“Lord Rodrigue,” she said, continuing her motions through the lessons. “He told me that you used to swing your sword so hard you’d break it.”

“That was ages ago,” Dimitri said between slashes. “I’ve had plenty of practice since then. I may not be as good as Felix, but I still consider the sword one of my preferred weapons.”

Finishing his slashing exercise, he held his sword pointed to the sand. Looking to the rough and tumble but not unattractive woman, he challenged her, “Care to see for yourself?”

Catherine guffawed in her familiar way, causing Dimitri to smile. Dismissing the other students, she took her sword in both hands and stepped forward. Giving him a wolfish grin, she said, “Well kid, let’s see what you got!”

Dimitri held his sword low and pointing it directly towards Catherine. She mirrored his stance, readying herself for the the first move. Dimitri opened with a downward strike towards Catherine’s shoulder. She responded swiftly, parrying the attack, then countering with an upward strike towards his midsection. Sidestepping to avoid the strike, Dimitri deftly retaliated with a horizontal strike. Catherine deflected the blow with ease, rewarding him with one of her famous laughs.

The exchange continued for several minutes with a continuous series of strikes, parries, and counters. Dimitri attempted a thrust at Catherine’s midsection, but she expertly redirected the blade while delivering a counter thrust, hitting Dimitri’s belly. He doubled over with a cough, dropping his sword. Unlike his match with Seteth he was not angry and had no interest in continuing the math.

“Well, I’m impressed!” exclaimed Catherine as she approached him. Offering her hand, he took it gladly. When she helped raise him to his feet, he was caught off guard by how close she had brought his face to her own. He could feel her breath on his face, the sensation causing him to blush. “You’re better than I expected,” she hummed, only loud enough for him to hear.

“I could say the same of you,” he breathed, feeling his pulse quicken. There were not many who could counter his attack so well, and she had done so as easily as though it were second nature. Not wishing to break the spell of their closeness, he added, “I suppose I still have much to learn.”

“No need for false modesty,” she cooed, her hand on his arm. His skin thrummed with anticipation beneath the fabric of the winter training jacket where she touched him. “We fought as equals just now. You’re strong and your form is excellent.” He felt himself shiver at how she annunciated the last word.

The spell was broken when she pushed back from him. “You’re clearly an experienced swordsman, but you’re greedy. You can’t be so impatient to win, or it will come at a grave cost.” She pointed her training sword at him. “Like a sword through the gut.”

Dimitri laughed, incredulous at her words. “Greedy? I’ve never heard that word used in reference to a fight, but I’ll take your word for it.” He took his time to look at her form, taking in the warrior woman before him. Catherine was dangerously beautiful, like one of the mountain lions that hid in the woods around the monastery. She reminded him of Byleth; perhaps that was why she seemed to affect him in much the same way.

Nodding to her, he bowed, showing her his most gallant side. “You have my thanks for the instruction.”

Catherine rewarded his efforts with a snort. “Ah, it returns, your royal formality and stiffness. Anyways,” she said casually, leaning down to grab his discarded training sword, “After we’re done here, I might head into town for lunch.” She looked to him, a wide friendly smile on her face. “Care to join me?”

Dimitri wanted to say yes, but faltered. Would Byleth be upset if he said yes? Did it matter? She was off with Seteth on some secret mission, what did her opinion matter? Before Dimitri could answer the alluring warrior woman, an entirely different woman came striding up to her side.

“Ah Shamir!” exclaimed Catherine, embracing the woman. Dimitri could only watch, slack jawed, as Catherine drew the dark and mysterious archer in for a deep, affectionate kiss. Completely bewildered, especially since Catherine had just asked him to lunch, Dimitri tried his best not to stare. He found his best was lacking when the women broke their kiss and Shamir was giving him a withering glare.

Ignoring her lover’s annoyance, Catherine asked, “My love, what can I do for you?”

Looking from Dimitri to Catherine, Shamir stated, “My people have found a promising lead. Captain Jeralt wanted me to find you and the other leaders of the Knights.”

“Well then,” said Catherine, handing the two training swords over to Dimitri. The Prince took them, too befuddled to say anything. “Let’s be off.” With a wave to Dimitri, Catherine said, “Let’s get lunch another time!”

“Sure!” said Dimitri, unsure of what else to say. He could only stare as the two women left the training grounds, hand in hand. “What the hell?” was the only thing he could find the words to verbalize as he stood there, holding both swords, watching the door to the training grounds swing close.

Notes:

This fic is primarily focused on relationships with men and women, but there are some secondary same-sex relationships, like Catherine and Shamir. Should I change the rating from "F/M" to "Multi"?

Chapter 61: Byleth - Coastal Cottage

Summary:

Byleth wakes up in Seteth and Flayn's little cottage on Rhodos Coast.

“Good morning sleepy head.”

Byleth rolled over and blinked her eyes open. She wasn’t sure what time it was; the small room she was inside was as dark as when she had first entered it. A single, small window was shuttered tight, a large velvet curtain covered it to keep out the cold sea air. The only thing she could see clearly was Sothis, floating near the door of the tiny room.

“It’s time to get up, you can’t waste all day in here.” Giving her a soft, almost motherly expression, Sothis added, “I know his bed smells nice and is terribly comfortable; I can feel everything you feel. But you really do have to get up. You can’t stay here.”

“I wish I could,” she grumbled out loud as she sat up. Reluctant to leave the small, warm space that smelled so delightfully of Seteth, she wrapped the quilt around her shoulders. Leaning over the bed, she drew back the curtains and opened the shutters slightly, shivering as a cold wind blew past her face. The sliver of light illuminated the room just enough so that she could move around comfortably.

Turning from the frigid opening, she noted a flicker of gold from the tiny desk. Moving over, she found Seteth’s circlet. The man never went out in public without it. Picking it up, she handled it with curiosity, caressing the delicate filigree and engravings. In jest, she tried it on her own head, giggling as it fell past her brow to settle on her nose.

Apparently that giggle was enough to alert others within the tiny cottage and soon Byleth heard a knock at the door. Wanting to share this bit of silliness, she opened the door, finding a fully dressed Seteth on the other side. “Found your circlet!” she exclaimed, beaming up at him. “I think it’s a little too big for me.”

Initially, he appeared to be shocked at her appearance. She wasn’t terribly under dressed, still wearing her base layer of knit wool undergarments. But Byleth realized she must have looked absurd wrapped in his quilt with his formal head ware resting on her nose. She beamed with joy as he smiled at her, rewarding her with a gentle chuckle.

“Indeed, it doesn’t quite fit you, my sweet one.” Taking the circlet from her head, he bent down and kissed her brow, causing the butterflies to wake in her belly. Wishing he would do more, she began to reach for him, only to realize her hands were covered by the heavy quilt.

“Awe,” came Flayn’s voice from behind her father, “How cute! I see you finally told her how you felt, Father.” Flayn was exiting her own room from across the hall, fully dressed and ready to fly. She was holding a tightly folded quilt, similar to the one Byleth had around her shoulders.

Seteth bristled at Flayn’s words, stepping back from Byleth and standing to his full height. Walking from the hall and back into the main room of the small cottage, he stated, “Please do not call me ‘cute’ Flayn. I am not a stuffed animal.”

“Oh no, big scary dragon man is grumpy,” mocked Flayn, mimicking her father’s voice by making hers overtly deep. She giggled and looked to Byleth. Nodding her head towards her father, she asked sweetly, “Come on Professor, what do you think?”

Looking to Seteth, her face blushing hotly, she chose to continue her silly, joyful morning. “Yup, I agree, he’s pretty cute.” Immediately, she covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a laugh. She enjoyed the consternated but wry smile he gave her in reply.

“Okay girls, enough fun,” he said placing his circlet on his brow. Byleth watched in interest as he drew his wavy green locks over the jewelry in what was a clearly practiced move. She caught a glance of what his pointed ears as he did so, but much like with seeing his tattoos, she made no mention of it.

“I need to go clean my armor before we depart. Flayn, do you mind helping with Byleth’s leathers while she gets ready?” She shivered upon hearing her name, enjoying how it sounded on his lips. Seteth usually called her “Miss Eisner,” as he rarely used anyone’s first names. Looking back to Byleth, Seteth offered, “There is some food and warm tea on the table for you.”

“Um,” she began, watching awkwardly as Flayn walked to follow her father. “I can do it —”

“It’s fine,” said Flayn, cutting her off. “You need to eat before we set out. Father likes to be punctual, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Giving Byleth a sweet smile, she added, “I’m more than happy to help Professor! Besides, my magic will make quick work of cleaning your gear.”

“Um, thanks, I guess?” she muttered as Flayn exited the cottage. Just as Seteth had said, there was an ancient ceramic plate covered in dried fruit and meat, with an equally ancient mug next to it with lukewarm tea within. Byleth was embarrassed that she had slept in, but was grateful that she was feeling well rested.

“Hence why I woke you up,” came Sothis’s lilting voice in her head. “Now, eat up, we have a long day of travel ahead.”

The food was simple and filling, though Byleth yearned for a the hot meals she had come to enjoy at the Dining Hall. Once she was finished eating, she used a damp rag near the sink and wiped the crockery down. The tiny kitchen had few shelves so it was easy to discover where to put them away. Other than redressing herself with her flying gear, most of which was outside with Flayn at the moment, Byleth didn’t have much else to do.

Putting her socks and boots on, she went outside. The chill sea air bit at her face but she enjoyed the crisp ocean smell. To her surprise, the wyverns Saint and Macha were already outside on the beach, ready to be saddled. Flayn had finished her work with Byleth’s flight leathers and was scratching Saint behind his jaw.

Seteth appeared to have cleaned his armor in the time it took her to eat and was working to belt it back on. Seeing him struggle slightly with the breastplate, Byleth walked behind him. As he held the front, she proceeded to belt the sides together at a comfortable tightness. “Thank you, my dear,” he said softly, standing still as she finished with the last belts.

She held his hand as he turned to her, not wanting to let go. Looking at him in his armor she felt her mouth go dry. Raising her eyes back to his, she noted that he was watching her with interest. “You … um … look really good in armor …”

“Do I now?” he chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers. Placing a gloved finger beneath her chin he gently tilted her face up to his. “Why thank you for the compliment,” he hummed, his breath warming her face.

Accepting his unspoken invitation, Byleth pressed her mouth to his. This time, as she kissed him, she was more eager to explore and taste his lips. Just as she could feel him reciprocate her passion, he drew back from her. “There’s more than enough time for that when we get back,” he said breathlessly, beaming down at her.

Flayn was doing her best to ignore them while trying to saddle Saint. The large double sized saddle was almost bigger than the girl, and while she had no issue lifting it, she struggled to get it into place. “Here Flayn, let me help,” said Seteth, jumping to her aid.

Leaving them work to saddle the wyverns, Byleth began to pull on her flying leathers. The gear was dry and warm, with little to no blood from the fighting the day before. She assumed the warmth came from Flayn’s use of fire magic to warm and dry the leather after cleaning it. Byleth was impressed with how far the girl had come in her studies of elemental magic, though was unsurprised considering she was practically an expert in healing magic already.

Once the saddles and saddle bags were attached to the wyverns, Flayn and Seteth went back into the cottage one last time. Byleth allowed them the moment alone, figuring that they were saying goodbye to their little home. During this time she took the initiative to attempt to mount Saint on her own. The drake was amenable to her attempts, kneeling down as she approached. Without much effort she was soon on his back.

“You should have waited, Seteth would have lifted you into the saddle if you let him,” giggled Sothis. The little goddess made an apparition of herself appear before Byleth, sitting on the wyvern’s neck. Saint surprised both of them by turning his head and regarding the spirit with a single large reptilian eye. “Oh my, can you see me?” she asked the beast, petting his gargantuan neck. Saint responded to her ghostly touch with an immense shiver throughout his body that caused his frill to wiggle. A deep, soft hum came from his throat.

Macha, curious as all young wyverns were, came up to the apparition of the child goddess. As though the spirit were there in the flesh the young hen pressed her head into Sothis’s hand. “It seems they can feel you too,” murmured Byleth aloud in awe.

“It seems we must spend more time with these glorious beasts,” commented Sothis as she stroked Macha’s brow. “Touching them like this makes me feel like I remember something …”

“What do you remember?” asked Byleth, prompting the spirit.

“Oh, Macha’s never been here before, she was hatched at Garreg Mach,” came Seteth’s voice in reply. Hearing him startled Byleth out of her reverie. Sothis, startled along with Byleth, snapped out of existence. The wyverns seemed sad at her departure, if a giant reptilian face could appear sad.

Oh thank the goddess, he thought I was talking to the wyverns. Sothis did not deign to give her one of her customary quips. Byleth wondered if she had fallen back asleep.

Seteth appeared before her, holding the spear he had taken from the crypt the day before. The other object, the ancient staff, was in Flayn’s hands. She closed the door to the cottage behind her before coming forward to Byleth and the large wyvern mount they were to share. As she strapped the precious staff securely to her back, Seteth turned to the cottage. Waving his hand before it he said a single word: “Ceilt.” The simple cottage disappeared in a shimmer of light, only a blank bit of coastal grass and similarly large pile of stones replacing it.

“Alright,” said Seteth brightly, “Let’s be off.” Seteth was in the air before them, his movements more efficient than theirs. Byleth worked to hook herself to her wyvern saddle in the front, allowing Flayn to hook her in the back.

“So,” said Flayn, as she worked Byleth’s safety straps. “You and my Father, eh? What will Prince Dimitri think?”

“Oh Goddess,” groaned Byleth, “I didn’t even think of that!”

“How could you not? He kissed you, in front of the whole monastery I might add. And that happened only yesterday!” she hissed. “I’m not sure how my Father managed to miss it!” Satisfied that she and Byleth were now secure, she gave Saint a gentle kick with her heels and commanded, “Up Saint.”

As the wyvern began to jog to build up his speed, Byleth said to Flayn, “I didn’t want him to kiss me! Especially not there!”

“Yeah,” said Flayn louder as Saint jumped into the air, “But I know you’ve kissed him before! I could see it on your face!”

“Let’s talk about this later!” shouted Byleth, forcing herself to face forward into the oncoming wind.

Chapter 62: Dimitri - Dormitory

Summary:

Dimitri asks Byleth for forgiveness.

Later that evening, after dinner service had concluded, Dimitri found himself sitting on his bed, thumbing through a history book. The book wasn’t terribly interesting, a simple history on the Empire from inception to modern day. Byleth was still not back from wherever Seteth had taken her, and Dimitri did his best to ignore his growing anxiety. His encounter, for lack of a better word, with Catherine did little to still his unease, but he chose not to tell anyone about it.

Since Seteth had moved the students in with each other to allow for refugee families to use the bottom floor of the dormitories, each evening had been much louder than usual. Most doors remained open until curfew, with students walking in and out of each others rooms to visit. The girls were particularly abuzz with talk of the annual ball coming up at the end of the month.

Usually, during the month of the Ethereal Moon, Dimitri was busy with plans of his own birthday party. As he grew older and close to marrying age, his birthday came to double as the date of winter ball in Fhirdiad, a time when nobles would flock from all over the country, as well as territories of the Alliance and the Empire that bordered Faerghus. This year, however, Dimitri was more than content for his birthday to take a backseat to festivities of Garreg Mach. He didn’t really like being the center of attention anyways, if he was being honest with himself.

As he read his boring book, he couldn’t help but hear voices from next door; Felix’s room. Dimitri had been lucky that the wall his bed was against was Felix’s, the normally silent ducal heir. Sylvain was on the other side, but thankfully his desk was against that wall. Since having Ashe move in to his room Sylvain had been forced to pause his nightly activities for the time being. Though, Dimitri had to admit, on the rare nights when Sylvain did bring girls to his room, he was relatively discreet. Despite being famous for his womanizing ways, Sylvain did not have many guests. Dimitri guessed it was more because his escapades were more often than not outside the monastery walls.

Dimitri had been told that when Seteth had initially drawn up his plans for the students to room together during this crisis, Felix had been paired with Lorenz, with his room being given to Mercedes and Annette. The two boys barely knew each other, and both were less than thrilled at the idea. That’s when Claude had proposed quite the shuffle, of having his own roommate, Ignatz, stay with Lorenz, so Felix could stay in his own room with Ingrid. This meant Leonie, then Ingrid’s roommate, would stay with Claude. Mercedes and Annette were then given Ingrid’s room. Apparently Claude was aware that Felix and Ingrid were old childhood friends, practically brother and sister, so he figured they would be comfortable sleeping in the same room. Felix, however, insisted on sleeping on the floor, forever the gentleman that he was.

It was Ingrid’s voice that carried over from Felix’s room that caught his ear. “Gown? What do you mean? I only brought the one, you should see it in the wardrobe in my room.”

“But you’re going to wear that one!” exclaimed Mercedes. Her high pitched voice carried easily through the corridor and open doorways. “Oh fiddlesticks, we have nothing for the Professor to wear!”

Upon hearing them mention the Professor, Dimitri’s interested piqued even further. Standing from his bed, careful not to step on Dedue’s bedding, he left his room. From the hallway, he looked into Felix’s room. The young man was nowhere to be seen, likely overwhelmed by the amount of girls intruding upon his space. Ingrid was sitting on Felix’s bed and Mercedes was standing near the desk.

“Hello girls,” said the Prince, smiling at them genially. “It’s not often that I hear Mercedes use as dour a word as ‘fiddlesticks’. What seems to be the issue?”

Mercedes jumped while Ingrid looked over to the Prince, crossing her arms. She seems to have not forgiven him for his indiscretion the day before. Ignoring her friend’s ire, Mercedes calmed herself before turning to the Prince. “The ball is coming up and we are discussing what the girls are going to wear. I helped move the Professor’s things myself to her father’s quarters and all she had were basic training clothes and the uniforms the Academy provided.”

“So?” asked Dimitri, not understanding the problem. “Does she not have enough clothing?”

“Mercedes is saying she doesn’t have a gown,” grumbled Ingrid. “Really Mercedes, she can wear mine. I hate dressing up anyways.”

“No!” said Mercedes, literally putting her foot down with a stamp. “You are a beautiful young woman Ingrid Brandl Galatea! I put up with you not caring about your face or your hair on most days, but on the day of the ball, I will have you looking your best!” Both Dimitri and Ingrid were silenced by their astonishment at Mercedes’s outburst.

Seeing their faces, Mercedes seemed to draw back her condemnation somewhat, returning to her earlier issue. “You see, Your Highness, the Professor does not have a gown for the ball. And we do not have enough time to procure one.” Heaving a heavy sigh, she added, “With the refugee crisis and winter falling across Fodlan, we don’t even have enough time to procure the fabric!”

“Fabric? That’s all you need?” An idea sprang into his mind and he was off back to his room. Digging through his wardrobe, he found an old cape. It was made from dark blue brocade and lined with an even darker blue silk. He did not wear it often as it was too long to move in and was meant for formal functions. Much like the ball at the end of the month. However, Dimitri could just wear his usual cape, as it was more than worthy of showing his station.

Folding it carefully, he brought it back to Mercedes, who was still standing in the center of Felix’s room. The woman gasped as he handed to her, taking from him reverently. “But, Your Highness,” she breathed in wonder, “Is this not your formal mantle? Are you sure —”

“When was the last time you saw me wear it?” he asked, cutting her off. Working to ignore Ingrid’s cynical gaze from the corner, he insisted, “Please, it would honor me if you turned that into something useful. I have no need of it.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” said Mercedes with a curtsey.

Pleased with his gift, Dimitri returned to his room. He had not thought much about the upcoming ball, but now he was somewhat excited. How would Byleth look wearing my colors? he wondered blissfully as he sat back down on his bed.

The woman was amazing in her own right, but he had a feeling that the royal blues of his old cloak would bring out the blues in her navy eyes in the most enticing ways. Content to ponder all the ways Mercedes could turn his well-worn cape into a beautiful gown, and how that gown would appear on his beloved professor, Dimitri barely noticed when the rest of the hall quieted down, closed their doors, and snuffed out their lights for the night.

***

Dimitri was elated when Byleth returned to their classroom only three days after setting off with the Administrator and his little sister. Apparently they had arrived late the night before, after Dimitri had retired to his room for the evening. He was glad for it too, because if he knew she had been back he would likely be up all night wondering what he should say to her.

The Prince felt absolutely awful for stealing a kiss from her right before she left. At the time it had seemed the right thing to do, but his friends had helped him see the errors of his ways. When Sylvain, Goddess be damned Sylvain, tells you that you overstepped with a woman, then you know you messed up.

During the lessons that day Dimitri did his best to melt into the background. He didn’t want to overwhelm the Professor with his presence, wishing to talk to her later in the gentlest way possible. While she spoke, he took notes, and whenever she asked questions to the class he let others answer.

When lunchtime arrived, he stood from his desk and waited for the Professor to finish chatting with Annette before approaching her. Seeing his prince waiting nearby, Dedue stayed by the door. Dimitri had expected that, especially after his now infamous stolen kiss. What he had not expected was for Mercedes to wait behind with Dedue, though he realized he probably should have. His best friend and the healer had become very close in recent days.

“Um, Professor Byleth,” spoke Dimitri when Annette was finally done speaking with her, “May I have a word?”

Annette shot him a disapproving look as she walked past. He had seemingly not forgiven him for being so forward with the Professor. Or she was upset that she hadn’t known about his scandalous affections. Either had made the magic prodigy annoyed with her Crown Prince.

Byleth, however, seemed less irritated with him. She did pause however, her emotionless eyes looking to Dedue and Mercedes before falling on him. “Sure, Dimitri. What’s up?”

Taking the invitation, he approached her. He yearned to touch her, to just hold her hand, but knew he was on thin ice at the moment. Clearing his throat, he said, “I wish to apologize for the other day. It was inappropriate for me to …” he didn’t want to say the word in front of Mercedes, but realized this was his best chance to make amends “… kiss you, in the Entrance Hall like that.”

Byleth crossed her arms and stared at him, her expression unreadable. Dimitri burned under her gaze, fear creeping up his spine at what she would say. Looking back at her, he couldn’t help but stare at her perfect, naturally pink lips. Damn him if he didn’t want to take her up in his arms and kiss her right there in the classroom.

After agonizingly long moments, Byleth answered him, “No, it was not.” Tilting her head, she asked him, “Why did you do it? Did you want to embarrass me?”

“Goddess no!” sputtered the Prince, reaching for her involuntarily. “I would never dream of doing such a thing! That I may have impugned your reputation in any way breaks me to my core!” Placing his hand on his heart, he have her a bow. “Please, Professor, forgive me.”

While his head was bowed and eyes were closed he could not see her reaction to his words. He kept himself bent over even as he heard her footsteps on the cobblestones. His heart fluttered when she put a hand to his shoulder and gently pushed him to unbend and stand at his full height. Her hand still on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort, she said, “I forgive you, Prince Dimitri.” Playfully, she smacked him on the cheek. His skin burned with desire where she touched him but he dare not act on it in this moment. “But don’t you dare do anything like that in the future, or that will be a real slap, and then some!”

Dimitri blinked at her as she smirked at him and walked past. “Come on,” she said, gesturing for him to follow. “Let’s go get lunch. I have the training yard booked for our class this afternoon so we need our energy.

Chapter 63: Seteth - Gardens

Summary:

Seteth and Byleth have tea in the gardens.

The days after they return to Garreg Mach went by much quicker than Seteth would have liked. On top of dealing with the refugee crisis from Remire, the preparations for the annual Ethereal Moon Ball were in full swing. Seteth had barely any time to court Byleth in the way he wished to.

Thankfully, most of the refugees had since found more permanent lodgings outside of Garreg Mach with family. Others were able to move in more permanently into unused staff quarters. The students had their dormitories back, though some lamented the fact as they had seemed to have had fun doubling up. Others couldn’t get back to their solitude fast enough.

Initially, Seteth had considered courting Byleth in the same manner as he had in the past, but soon realized that would be inappropriate. He couldn’t engage in the sort of tomfoolery that had won over his first wife; like singing for her in public or performing acts of daring. Not only was he no longer a young man surrounded by similar youths performing similar stunts, but he also needed to be discreet. Besides, the world had changed since then; courting had become a much more subtle and muted affair.

He had also thought of inviting her for a private dinner in his and Flayn’s apartments, but after discussing the plan with his daughter, found that was not likely a good start either. It was much too intimate and private, at least at the beginning. No, Seteth decided on simply inviting Byleth for tea.

Even thought it was the beginning of winter in the mountains, Seteth found a warm afternoon to sit outside in the garden with Byleth. He had brought tea and cookies and they had discussed the upcoming ball. She was pleasantly curious about the whole affair, never having attended a ball before. Seteth explained that he rarely attended the ball, but was planning on acting as a chaperone while Flayn participated. Gleefully he promised Byleth that he would save a dance for her, and would be happy to lead her through the steps.

For any onlookers they appeared to be simply colleagues enjoying the last warm sun of the season. But for Seteth and Byleth, it was a chance to get more comfortable with one another. He marveled at how much more she smiled than when he first met her. As though she was learning how to experience such things.

Seteth was apprehensive at one point when he saw the Crown Prince walk by, but Byleth told him not to worry. The Prince had apparently apologized right after they had gotten back and she had decided to forgive him. Seteth wasn’t sure he was willing to forgive the boy for trying to harm him weeks ago yet, but then again, he didn’t have to teach him. Once again he offered to her that she could transfer houses, but she was adamant she wanted to stay, and that was the end of it.

After their tea time, they went for a walk around the monastery grounds, their conversation meandering as much as their stroll. Seteth wished to hold her hand as they walked, but decided even that was not discreet enough at this early stage. When the shadows grew long and the air grew chill, Seteth walked her back to her classroom. He initially thought of escorting her to her new space in the Captain’s quarters, but decided against it. Seteth wanted to keep a respectable distance from any private quarters, at least for the time being.

Taking her hand in his, Seteth gazed into her fathomless ocean eyes. I could get lost in those eyes forever, he thought contentedly. Bringing her knuckles to his lips, he placed a delicate kiss upon them. He grinned as he heard her sharp intake of breath.

“Good evening, Byleth,” he hummed, slowly releasing her hand. He could feel that she wished to kiss him in that moment as she leaned forward, her eyes on his. Reluctantly, he bowed his head to her slightly and stepped back.

“Good night, Seteth,” she breathed, examining him. Giving her one last smile, he turned to return to his office. Despite his composed manner, his heart was beating fast inside his chest. These feelings were both familiar and achingly new. He would savor this slow courtship of theirs, like a fine wine.

Chapter 64: Byleth - Dining Hall

Summary:

Byleth receives a special gift from Mercedes and Dimitri.

Byleth watched Seteth’s back as he walked away, her hand tingling where his lips had touched it. She yearned to follow him, to grab him and pull him down to kiss him, but she did not. They had agreed to be discreet in their courtship, and she did not wish to move too fast. She enjoyed this stern, harsh man who held softness in his heart only for his daughter. And now for her, it seemed.

Butterflies deeply entrenched in her belly, Byleth chose to walk over to the Dining Hall. During her long day with Seteth they had not eaten anything but cookies since their tea and she was hungry. Dinner service was almost over, but there should be some food left.

Inside she saw members of the Blue Lion house dining at one of the long tables. They were nearly done their meals, but chose to stay once their Professor sat with them. Dimitri was with them, much to Byleth’s chagrin. She did not want to think of the young man’s attraction to her at this moment, not while she was humming with joy at the wonderful day she had with Seteth.

“Professor!” said Mercedes, approaching the table with two teacups. Handing one to Dedue, she sat across from Byleth. “I’ve been looking for you!”

“Oh?” asked Byleth, her mouth full. It was a bad habit of hers to speak while eating, one she learned while on the field as a mercenary. “Do you need my help in the infirmary?”

“Oh, nothing like that,” said Mercedes, sipping her tea. Looking to Dimitri, a sparkle in her eye, she continued, “Dimitri and I have a surprise for you!”

Byleth eyed the Prince warily, chewing her food slowly. A mild blush crept up the boy’s neck. He scratched the back of his neck, staring at the table. “Do you now?” asked Byleth, swallowing her mouthful.

Seeing that Dimitri was slow to answer, Mercedes piped in merrily, “Yes! His Highness and I have made you something for the ball! It’s in my room, you should come see it after dinner!”

“Well,” coughed Dimitri, clearly embarrassed, “Mercedes did most of the work, I only helped a little.”

“Don’t be so modest,” continued Mercedes, her tinkling voice full of mirth, “You did all of the boring stuff while I got to do the really interesting bits!”

Curious to see what it possibly could be the two of them had done, Byleth finished her meal quickly. They all soon thereafter followed Mercedes to her bedroom on the first floor. Even though the refugees that had been temporarily housed in the dorms had since moved elsewhere, Byleth decided to stay in her father’s old quarters. Jeralt had moved in with Manuela, making their relationship practically official. Part of her missed her old dorm room, but another realized that it had not been the best location for her as a Professor.

Stepping inside with Mercedes, Dimitri and Dedue waited outside, determined to remain respectful. The dorm rooms were small, and the four of them would make a tight fit. Full of glee, Mercedes pulled a long, dark blue piece of clothing from her closet.

“Tada!” she said, presenting the thing to Byleth.

Unsure of what she was looking at, Byleth merely stared. “Um, thank you?” she said as Mercedes handed it to her. “What is it?”

“Oh pish posh!” muttered Mercedes, her hands on her hips. “Have you never seen a gown before?” Upon seeing Byleth’s blank stare, Mercedes’s face changed from one of consternation to that of astonishment. “Oh, you haven’t, have you?”

Taking the supposed “gown” back from Byleth, Mercedes held it up to herself. “I know it’s a bit short, we didn’t have enough fabric, but this is the bodice,” she said, pointing to a bit in the middle that was about six inches long. “These are the sleeves,” she continued, pointing at round bits attached to the top of the bodice. “And this is the skirt,” she finished, holding the long part attached to the bodice. On the taller woman the skirt came just below her knees. “I had to make it in the new style popular in the Alliance because we had so little fabric to work with. Hilda suggested the cut, she’s got quite the eye for fashion.”

“That’s my fault, I’m afraid,” admitted Dimitri sheepishly. “My old cloak was a lot smaller than I realized once we started cutting it.”

Beholding the gown made of dark blue brocade, Byleth murmured, “Your old cloak?” Turning to Dimitri, she asked, “Really?”

“He helped sew the skirt seams too,” beamed Mercedes, handing the gown back to her once again. Knowing the origin of the beautiful piece of clothing, Byleth was much more careful with it.

“That’s …” she was unsure what to say, staring at the piece. Honestly, it amazed her that Dimitri, the Crown Prince, not only gave up one of his pieces of finery for her, he had helped construct the gown too.

“It’s not much,” said Dimitri, looking at his feet. Byleth turned to him, enjoying his awkwardness despite herself. “I never wore that old cloak, and Mercedes did so much more work than me.”

Stepping through Mercedes’s door, the gown draped over her right arm, she wrapped her left arm around Dimitri in an off-kilter hug. The boy froze, unsure of what to do with his hands. “Thank you,” she said quietly and sincerely. “I think it’s the nicest gift I’ve ever received.” The butterflies in her belly were back as she heard the Prince’s breath hitch at her embrace.

Dedue cleared his throat, signaling to her that she end her embrace with the Prince. Taking this exit, Byleth stepped back, focusing her hands on holding the gown. Dimitri found a use for his own hands in straightening his officer’s jacket. “Yes, well,” said the Prince, his face red as he looked at her. “You’re very welcome, Professor.” Nodding to the group, he said, “Goodnight,” before turning for the stairs.

Mercedes shot Dedue a sly smile before watching the Prince retreat. Once he was up the stairs and out of sight, she said to Byleth, “I can help you dress for the ball, Professor. Just come by my room a few hours before.”

“Be careful, Professor,” chuckled Dedue. “If my love has her way she’ll treat all of the Blue Lions girls like her own little dolls.”

“Dedue!” gasped Mercedes, giving him a playful smack. “I do not think they’re dolls! Don’t say that!” In response, the big man just pulled her close to him, kissing her brow. Their clear and unabashed affection towards each other made Byleth smile. Wishing to leave the young couple to themselves, Byleth thanked Mercedes for the gown before leaving. She had wanted to hug the older girl like she had Dimitri, but as she was currently in Dedue’s arms, that was not an option.

Holding the beautiful piece of clothing, Byleth considered the upcoming ball. She had promised Seteth she would dance with him, but now she had Dimitri's gown to wear. Whether or not Mercedes had done the bulk of the work did not matter, the gown was made from Dimitri’s own clothing. Should she wear it? It was such a lovely gift, it would be horrible of her not too. And they had striven to make it because they must have known she had nothing else to wear.

Contemplating the conundrum, Byleth walked silently back to her new space in the Captain’s quarters. Much to her chagrin, it was across the hall from Seteths’ office. She could see the soft light from underneath, indicating that he was still working. Deciding against revealing to him the new gown, she retired for the night.

Chapter 65: Seteth - Private Baths

Summary:

Rhea corners Seteth while he is taking a bath.

Notes:

I wrote this chapter with Rhea's declining mental state in mind.

Content warning: mild unwanted sexual contact.

Later that night, after most of the monastery had gone to bed, Seteth was soaking in the Archbishop’s private bath. When he and Flayn had returned from their quick flight to the Rhodos Coast they had each washed separately in the baths, wishing to give each other privacy to wash without cumbersome towels. Now, a week later, Seteth found time to relax and let the hot water soothe his sore muscles.

Although the bathing pool was smaller than the public baths around Garreg Mach, it was large enough for Seteth to float on his back. He so enjoyed floating and swimming but had not been able to do so while in the public eye of the monastery. Seteth simply couldn’t let anyone see his tattoos, as extensive and ancient as they were, or his pointed ears, which poked out visibly from his hair as it floated on the warm water. However, he realized he might have been too lax in hiding his tattoos lately, considering Byleth knew they existed; at least the ones on his forearms.

Seteth startled when he heard a soft splash from the edge of the pool. Opening his eyes, he saw that Rhea had stepped in. She was as naked as he, her long minty tresses flowing on the water behind her. Wishing to give her space in the pool, as well as himself some modesty, he drew his hips underwater.

“Oh, dear Seteth,” cooed Rhea, moving slowly in the water to the other side of the pool from him, “You don’t need to move on my account. You must still be so sore from your efforts on the Rhodos Coast.”

They had grown accustomed to bathing together platonically, as it was one of the few places they could truly be themselves. Seteth, however, usually kept himself modestly covered with a towel, while Rhea never bothered with such modesty. Rhea bore her own tattoos, as all other Nabateans did. While his were dense and all consuming, hers were delicate. Long lines of sacred swirls covered her upper arms, and a stylized verion of her Crest rested between her large breasts.

“It’s not that bad,” he groaned, stretching his shoulders. With a chagrin, he heard his neck make an audible “pop” sound as he bent it. The “pop” was accompanied by an obvious “twang” feeling in his neck, indicating he had pulled a muscle. Grimacing, he put his hand to his neck and began massaging it. “Well, maybe I did overdo it a little. Even with my frequent training, I’m not used to all-out combat.”

“Here,” she said, swimming over to him. “Turn around,” she ordered and he complied. Rhea was the foremost healer at Garreg Mach, though only assisted in the infirmary when absolutely necessary. He hummed contentedly as she placed her delicate fingers against the base of his neck. A small trickle of healing magic flowed through her skin to his as she gently massaged the thick muscles of his upper back.

“I am glad to hear that the mission to dispatch the Western Church infidels went well,” she murmured. “It is good that you retrieved Macuil’s weapons as well.”

Bristling at the sound of his brother’s name, Seteth commented, “He was not the only one who made Sacred Weapons. I had a hand in the making of the Spear of Assal.”

“True,” admitted Rhea, “But it was Macuil’s design you used. And he was the sole creator of the Caduceus Staff that Flayn favors.” Continuing to work on his shoulders, she added, “I was surprised to hear that you brought the new Professor with you though.”

“Why is that?” he asked, genuinely curious. “She is particularly adept with the Sword of the Creator. It’s why you gave it to her, isn’t it?”

“Mhm,” hummed Rhea, moving her hands to massage the edges of his shoulders. “I’ve seen how you look at her, Cichol. I’m just astounded you would bring her to your wife’s grave. Seems like a strange thing to do with your new lover.”

Stilling at the sound of his birth name, Seteth thought, It seems Seiros has emerged once again. Choosing his next words carefully, he said, “I have not taken a new lover, your Grace.”

“That’s unfortunate,” she purred, moving her hands down his arms. She was keeping up the healing massage as she did so, the white magic trickling through where their skin touched. He worked to keep his breathing even as he felt the tips of her nipples touch his back. “I have always wondered why you’ve never taken me.”

His mouth going dry, he answered carefully, “Because my brother wanted you, Seiros. And I was married.” Despite himself, he felt blood rush to his groin as her hands moved between his arms and his torso.

“Do you not find me attractive?” she asked him, her voice as tempered as though she were talking to him in front of staff or students. Rhea, or more appropriately, Seiros, was keeping up her ruse of massaging him with her deft fingers. He never thought he would feel such alarm at healing magic being pumped into his body.

Your body is beautiful but your mind is terrifying.

Swallowing, he placated her, “You are as lovely as the Goddess herself, my Lady.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, moving her hands to his chest. Pressing her body even closer, she breathed into his ear. The twin sensations caused more blood to flow his manhood, and to his horror he felt himself growing hard with desire. “You look so much like Macuil. I wonder if you fuck as good as him.”

Terror creeping in his chest, Seteth stood abruptly from the warm bathing pool. Striving to keep his back to Rhea, he climbed out. His member was hard, but not fully, and he did not want her seeing his compromised state. Grabbing a towel from the rack near the door, he wrapped it loosely around his waist. Without turning he said loudly and formally, “I must retire, Lady Rhea.”

“Good night, Seteth,” said Rhea in her usual, sing-song tone, as though nothing had just happened between them.

Full of dread, Seteth all but ran back to his apartments, locking the front door behind him. He had not stopped to dry himself and was still sopping wet. Rhea had never, never, shown any interest in him sexually before, not in either of their very long lives. Something very wrong was going on.

Despite being full of fear, he was still hard. Unfortunately, it had been literal centuries since Seteth had lain with a woman, and his sexual desires had only recently been reawakened. Retreating into his own room, thankful that Flayn had long since fallen asleep, he locked this door as well.

Swallowing hard, dried himself quickly before he laid back naked on top of the covers of his bed. Staring up at the ceiling, he worked to imagine Byleth’s face, the feel of her lips on his. She was only downstairs, he could go to her right now. As enticing as the prospect of that was, Seteth knew their fledgling romance was too early for that, so he remained.

Taking himself in his hand, he worked himself to completion to relieve the desire Rhea had so cruelly built up in him. He would have to deal with the fallout of that strange encounter later, along with Rhea’s increasingly erratic behavior. For now, he would fall asleep to dreams of the strange new woman who had captured his heart.

Chapter 66: Byleth - Dormitory

Summary:

Byleth gets prepared for the Ethereal Moon Ball with the girls from the Blue Lions.

The day of the ball arrives with much fanfare. The students of the Blue Lions were too excited to focus on their classwork and spent much of the time discussing that evening’s activities. All save for Felix, who seemed completely annoyed with the whole concept.

“I can’t fathom why this is all such a big deal,” grumbled Felix, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed. “I can’t count the times my father dragged me to one of these stupid balls. I’m already itchy thinking about the stupid starched collars.”

“Well, not all of us are heirs to the wealthiest Duchy in all of Faerghus,” shot back Annette, incensed by Felix’s words. She looked over to Byleth, a sympathetic expression on her face. “And for some of us this will be their first dance ever.”

Cowed by the the mage’s words, Felix just muttered under his breath. “You don’t have to attend the ball, if you don’t want to Felix,” said Byleth. Even though she was trying to be nice to the young man, she was dismayed when she was rewarded with a snort.

“If I don’t make an appearance I will never hear the end of it from my father.” Toning down his cynical tone, he grumbled, “Sorry though, Professor, I forgot it was your first time.”

“That’s fine,” said Byleth, truly not feeling any animosity towards the boy. She understood Felix’s reluctance to be in such a large, public event, as she also found them overwhelming. But since her students wanted her to be there with them, she felt it worthwhile pushing through her discomfort to attend. “Why don’t we all take the rest of the afternoon off? The first dance begins around 6pm, so we will all want to take some time to get dressed.”

“Annette,” spoke Flayn, “Let’s go get dressed now, then we can help with set up!”

“Ooh, good idea!” said Annette in her usual excited tone. Looking back to the reluctant, ducal heir, she stated, “Don’t worry Felix, nobody will want you there if you’re going to be this much of a grump anyway.” Before the young man had a chance to respond the girls were out the door.

“She’s got you there buddy,” said Sylvain, clapping his old friend on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get you some exercise early so we have enough time to bathe after.”

“I’m not a dog, you don’t need to exercise me,” snapped Felix, pushing Sylvain away. Indignant, Felix stomped off through the door, undoubtedly in the direction of the training grounds.

“Then maybe stop acting like one!” shouted Sylvain jovially after Felix. Before going after him, he walked over to Ingrid. Taking her hand, he gave a great show of kissing her knuckles. “I look forward to seeing my favorite girl in her best for the ball tonight.” Ingrid blushed furiously but otherwise said nothing.

Looking within the classroom he nodded to Mercedes and Byleth and gave them his most winning smile. “I’m looking forward to seeing my other favorite girls too.” Winking at them, he walked out the door, following Felix. Mercedes returned his flirtatious comment with a giggle.

“Um, well,” coughed Dimitri, “I’ll go keep those two from killing each other. Dedue, let’s leave the women do their magic in peace.”

“Yes, your Highness.” Turning to Mercedes, he gave her a quick peck on the lips. “With my Mercedes’s talents it surely will be magic indeed.” Mercedes gave him a playful slap on the arm as he left with his Prince.

Once all of the boys had left the classroom, Mercedes closed the doors and turned to Ingrid. “Oh. My. Goddess! You’re sweet on Sylvain!”

“Am not!” denied Ingrid too quickly. “You know how he is, he flirts with literally everyone! I saw him flirt with my grandmother once for Sothis’s sake!”

Wishing to join in during a rare chance at girl talk, Byleth piped up, “Yeah, but he didn’t kiss us.”

“That was just my hand!” countered Ingrid, her face fully beat red with embarrassment at this point. “Besides, speaking of kissing, I see you and Dedue are very close!”

“Well of course,” said Mercedes, matter-of-factly. “We plan on getting married once we graduate. Though I’m not sure if Dedue has told Dimitri yet …”

“What!?” exclaimed Ingrid. “Oh my Goddess, Mercedes! That’s wonderful!” She threw her arms around the older woman. Byleth stood beside them, bewildered. She knew that Mercedes was older than even her, but was surprised that Dedue was ready for marriage.

“Thank you,” said Mercedes, still in Ingrid’s arms. Pushing gently away from her, she said, “It’s still recent, I also haven’t told Annie yet.”

“Mercedes!” exclaimed Ingrid, smacking her on the arm. “How dare you tell us before you tell her! She’s your best friend! We are going to find her right now and tell her before we do anything else!”

Mercedes and Ingrid, with Byleth tagging along without having any other plans, found Annette in her room with Flayn. They were already in their evening wear and helping each other with their hair. Annette wore a simple but elegant beige gown that complemented her orange girls. Byleth was slightly dismayed to see Flayn wearing the formal officer’s uniform, only with a floor length skirt. She would have to ask Seteth later why he had not gotten his daughter a nicer gown for the event.

Mercedes was quick to take Annette’s ginger hair in hand before telling the girl of her upcoming nuptials so she couldn’t make too much of a fuss. Annette asked Mercedes dozens of questions excitedly as the older girl worked on her hair. Flayn watched the interaction warmly, shooting her Professor a knowing glance as the girls talked about how the courtship. Byleth wondered how long her and Seteths’ courtship would remain a secret, especially with the way Flayn was looking at her.

While Annette sat in her desk chair, Mercedes quickly put her usually braided hair into an elegant up-do. A small mirror sat in front of her on her desk. Byleth wondered what her own hair would look like in a similar fashion. As her hair was pinned up, Flayn was quick to pin on a delicate lace netting. Ingrid and Byleth sat on Annette’s bed while the other girls worked to dress up Annette’s hair.

“Oh, you look so good with your hair up Annie!” stated Mercedes. “Can you go to my room and grab my make-up palette?”

“Sure,” said Annette, getting up from her desk chair.

“Your turn Flayn,” said Mercedes, patting the seat once Annette had stood.

“No, thank you,” said Flayn, shaking her head. Looking to Byleth, an almost pleading look on her face, she said, “I do not … like people touching my hair. I am happy with my appearance this evening.”

“It’s okay Flayn,” said Byleth, standing close to her but not touching her. “You don’t need to change your hair if you don’t want to. I think you look lovely the way you are.”

The green-haired maiden beamed at her. “Thank you Professor.” Looking at Byleth’s face, she appeared to be searching for the right words to day. “My — I mean I — look forward to seeing what you will wear to the ball.” Knowing that Flayn meant Seteth moreso than herself, Byleth could feel a blush rising on her cheeks.

“Can I at least do your makeup Flayn?” asked Mercedes once Annette had come back with the palette.

“Um, sure,” said Flayn with uncertainty. “But not too much, my brother wouldn’t approve.”

“Of course,” said Mercedes gently. “Your skin is so beautiful and healthy, you only need the smallest of eye shadow and blush. Honestly, all of the Blue Lions girls need very little makeup, but it’s still fun for an event like tonight.”

“Okay,” said Flayn, sitting down. Byleth watched in interest as Mercedes applied the eye shadow then eye liner on the girl. True to her word, the older girl only applied the makeup very lightly, and in doing so enhanced Flayn’s natural beauty. Byleth marveled at how the black eye liner brought out the green in Flayn’s eyes. She wondered how Seteth would react upon seeing his daughter dressed up so, hoping that he would not be cross.

“Wow Flayn,” exclaimed Annette, “You look great! I bet Linhardt will wake up real fast when he sees you!”

“Oh shush!” barked Flayn cheerfully. “I’ll be surprised if he wakes up enough to attend the ball.” Standing from the chair, she gestured to Annette. “Your turn, then we can go help with the set up.”

Annette sat down dutifully and gave Mercedes a wide smile. “Do your worst Mercedes! I want as much makeup as you can do without making me look like a clown!” Annette’s words caused all five girls in the tiny dorm room to giggle. Mercedes took a little longer with Annette’s makeup, giving her more shades to her eyes and cheeks. In the end, the look was much more sophisticated than Byleth had expected, reminding her of how Manuela wore her makeup. Squealing with delight, Annette jumped from her chair and gave Mercedes a great hug. “Thank you Mercy! You’re the best!”

The girls all left Annette’s room as she and Flayn left to go help with set up for the festivities. Due to so many refugees being in Garreg Mach still, it was decided that the Entrance and Dining Halls would also include sections of the night’s events, with the main dancing being held in the Reception Hall.

Realizing that she had left the gown that Dimitri and Mercedes had so graciously gifted her in the Captain’s quarters, Byleth went with Annette and Flayn to the Reception Hall. Once in the hall she found Seteth helping staff to move the large wooden tables to the walls to make space for dancing. He was already dressed for the event, wearing a handsome black velvet doublet, not dissimilar to the navy one he wore daily. Byleth did notice that this one had more slits in the sleeves, showing off the fine linen shirt beneath.

Feeling the need to be useful, she jumped in to help move the last of the tables. Once the tables were all along the wall, Seteth gave her a quizzical look. “Is that what you’re wearing to the ball this evening?”

Byleth looked down to her own clothes: a simple officer’s uniform, not unlike the one Flayn was wearing, although the skirt was shorter. This was the same uniform she wore most days she was teaching classes. “No, I have a gown, unlike your … sister,” she shot back, crossing her arms.

Where she was expecting a prickly response, she was instead given a gentle smile. “I assure you, Flayn chose her outfit herself. She did not want to draw anyone’s attention, and I do not blame her.” Stepping closer to Byleth, close enough to touch her, he said quietly so that only she could hear, “I do, however, look forward to what you choose to wear, sweet one.”

The husky timbre of his voice caused electricity to shoot up her spine. Byleth wanted nothing more than to grab this tall, handsome man, and kiss him. To know he thought of her, and how she appeared, brought no end of excitement to her. Instead, she stepped back and gave him a smirk. “Well, you’ll just have to wait. The ball starts in what, two hours time?”

“Indeed, it does,” said Seteth, returning her smirk. Giving her a bow, he said, “Until then, Miss Eisner.”

Feeling her skin flush with the desperate urge to touch him, Byleth hurried up the stairs to her new quarters. Inside, the blue gown lay draped over one of the couches. She briefly considered changing into it there, but lacking a proper chemise, she decided against it. Besides, she didn’t want Seteth to see her until she was fully adorned with makeup and hairpins.

Byleth practically ran back to Mercedes’s room at the student dormitories. Within she found Mercedes and Ingrid dressed in their own gowns. Mercedes’s gown was cream in color, similar to that of her favorite shawl. She was standing over Ingrid, doing the blonde girl’s hair. The older woman already had her hair and makeup done. Ingrid’s gown was a deep forest green, cut in the old style with long, full sleeves. Byleth considered that in Faerghus, where Ingrid’s family had lived since ancient times, such full coverings were more practical and thus made the style a necessity.

“Oh, hello Professor!” greeted Mercedes merrily. “I wasn’t sure if you had found a chemise, so I laid one out for you on my bed. Feel free to change here, we won’t look.” Not that Byleth would care, she had changed in front of men and women during her mercenary days.

While Mercedes worked on Ingrid’s very light makeup, Byleth pulled off her officer’s garb. Beneath she wore the basic pantaloons and soft corset all women wore for their daily clothes. As she began to pull the chemise over her head, Mercedes stopped her. “The corset is built into the gown, professor. You don’t need to wear the one you have on now.”

“Oh, okay,” said Byleth, feeling silly for not noticing that feature on the gown earlier. Deftly unhooking the front of her corset, Byleth placed it on the bed next to her other clothes. She pulled the provided chemise from Mercedes over her head, only somewhat dismayed that his only had straps and not sleeves. It was thankfully thick enough that it could not be seen through, unlike other undergarments Byleth had seen in the past.

Picking up the gown, Byleth stared at it for a moment in confusion. She knew that the round puffs at the top were supposed to be sleeves, but they were only just barely attached to the flat top of the gown. Seeing her bafflement at the dress, Mercedes intervened once she was done with Ingrid’s makeup. “Here Professor, let me help.”

Mercedes took the gown from Byleth’s hands and unlaced one side to make it loose. Then she opened up the flat part at the top, directing Byleth to put her arms through the two tiny puffs. “Here, now put your arms up and it should slide down,” directed the older girl. Byleth obeyed and the garment did slide down her arms as predicted. Mercedes helped pull the garment the rest of the way down, pulling the flat bodice against Byleth’s breasts.

“Okay, you will need to pull your boobs up so they sit nicely in the bodice, or I can do so if you’re comfortable with me touching you.” Byleth blushed at the woman speaking so directly about her breasts, and using slang to do so.

“Oh my gosh, Mercy!” hissed Ingrid, “Don’t call them boobs!”

“Why not?” asked the older girl, completely unfazed. “They’re just stupid sacks of flesh, seem pretty boobish to me. I personally think calling them breasts is silly. Too formal.”

“Um,” said Byleth, taking the flat bodice and pushing it underneath her breasts. She flattened it to her chest, creating a rather enticing curve with her large bust. “Like this?”

“Exactly!” answered Mercedes gleefully, moving behind Byleth. “Now stand up straight and breath in comfortably. I don’t want to tie you in too tightly.” Byleth did as she was told and Mercedes tied the lacing at the back of the bodice.

Standing tall, Byleth noted how the dark blue brocade of the dress looked against her pale skin. The skirt was split at the center of the bodice, showing the white of the chemise beneath. Mercedes had mentioned that the dress was too short, but in Byleth’s untrained eyes it looked fine, falling well past her knees. The chemise, having belonged to the taller woman, fell past her feet and bunched up slightly on the floor.

“Now, I don’t mean to be crude, but you’re going to want to move your boobs around a bit to make them fit nicely. Like this.” Mercedes proceeded to put her hand down the front of her own dress and move around first one of her own large breasts, then the other. Ingrid only watched her with a horrified look on her face. “Oh don’t be so childish Ingrid! Byleth and I have big boobs, they’re going to move around.”

Again, Byleth followed the older girl’s instructions, moving around her breasts underneath the chemise and bodice until they felt like they were sitting properly. “There!” said Mercedes, “That looks great! Now, let me get a good look at you.”

Mercedes stepped back and surveyed Byleth with a critical eye. Byleth knew she was looking at the dress and not her, but she couldn’t help feel cowed under the woman’s gaze. “Hmm,” murmered Mercedes, pulling at the long chemise. “Dammit, I don’t have enough time to hem this. Oh! I know!” She went back to Byleth’s ties and undid them. “Sorry Professor, but we will have to fold the top of the chemise so it doesn’t drag on the floor. We will hide it under the bodice, beneath your boobs. Is that alright?”

“Sure?” responded Byleth, unsure of what exactly Mercedes wanted to do. Byleth was completely alien to the concept of sewing much more than repairs on existing clothing, hence why she had a dressmaker make her new leather bodice right before she came to teach at Garreg Mach. With Mercedes’s permission Byleth let her fold the top of the chemise and have Byleth hold it beneath the crease of her breasts while she tied the bodice back up. The minor alteration worked, the chemise no longer dragged on the ground. Unfortunately, Byleth’s black officer’s shoes could now be seen when she walked, but as she had no other option for footwear Mercedes shrugged it off.

Now that she was fully dressed, Mercedes had Byleth sit down in her desk chair. “How would you like your hair and makeup done Professor?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’ve never dressed up like this before. Just do whatever you think looks best.”

“Be careful, Professor,” said Ingrid, “Mercy might just take you up on that.”

“Oh, shush,” Mercedes said, combing her fingers through Byleth’s hair. “I know what I’m doing.” With practiced ease, Mercedes gathered Byleth’s hair, her fingers gliding smoothly through the strands. She separated sections with care, twisting and weaving them into a neat, elegant style. Now and then, she paused to adjust stray pieces, her touch gentle and precise. Byleth’s unruly bangs, determined to defy all efforts, remained undone. Unbothered, Mercedes simply worked around them. With Ingrid’s help, she pinned the twisted hair neatly beneath a fine snood. “How do you like it Professor?”

Byleth didn’t know what to say. This was the best her hair had ever looked. She hoped Seteth would like it as much as she did. “It’s amazing Mercy …”

“Oh, pish posh,” hummed the woman, “It’s just a simple updo. Now, hold still, I’m going to put on eye shadow. Have you ever worn eye shadow or eye liner before?”

“Only when it’s sunny,” admitted Byleth, closing her eyes and raising her eyebrows. “It’s a trick I picked up in Almyra. But I’m really clumsy, I’m sure you can do a better job than I ever did.”

“Hmm,” hummed Mercedes, concentrating on her work. Once her eyelids were done, Byleth blinked here eyes open. They felt heavy and gummy with the added makeup. Allowing herself to adjust her focus, she looked at herself in the small mirror.

Continuing with the blue theme of her gown and natural hair and eye color, Mercedes had added a gradient of dark, almost black, blue on her eyelids that faded to a white-blue near her brows. The makeup was light, barely a hint of color. The effect was magical even in her own reflection. “Wow, you truly are an artist Mercy.”

“I’m not done yet,” she giggled. “Next is your lips and cheeks. Your cheekbones are quite pronounced already so we won’t have to do much, but even a little shading will make quite the effect. And I think red on your lips will offset the blues on the rest of your look, what do you think?”

Not knowing what to say, Byleth merely nodded. Ingrid watched with interest as Mercedes finished painting their Professor’s face. “Wow,” breathed the tall, blonde girl. “That lipstick is pretty amazing. Do you think I should do lipstick now?”

“I’ve been telling you for ages you should wear lipstick!” exclaimed Mercedes merrily. “Though, since Sylvain seems to be sweet on you, he might just kiss it off before you’ve had a chance to show it off.”

“Ugh, will you stop with that!” complained Ingrid. “I will not be kissing Sylvain tonight or any other night for that matter! Just for that, I won’t wear lipstick now!”

Mercedes bent down to stage whisper into Byleth’s ear, “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” Standing back up to gaze on her work, Mercedes asked her, “So, Professor, is there someone you’re trying to impress tonight? Would it be the Prince, or someone else maybe?”

Feeling herself blush, imagining the red lipstick smeared on Seteth’s lips, Byleth stared into her hands. “Um … let’s just say that it’s a secret.” Against her conscious will, an image of red makeup smeared on Dimitri’s mouth also came to mind.

“Ooh, a secret,” purred Mercedes. “Well, don’t let that Hilda hear of it, she’ll stop at nothing to find out who you’re sweet on. She and Claude are thick as thieves, and I’ve never met a more inquisitive boy in my life!”

Not willing to reply for fear of being found out, Byleth stood. She had no jewelry to wear, so she just grabbed the other two girls by the arms. “Come on, we’re going to be late!” Byleth led Mercedes and Ingrid out of Mercedes’s dormitory room and down the cobblestone pat towards the Reception Hall, practically skipping in anticipation.

Chapter 67: Seteth - Main Hall

Summary:

Seteth dances with Byleth during the Ethereal Moon Ball. Dimitri confronts him afterwards.

Seteth stood at the edge of Garreg Mach’s Main Hall, watching guests arrive at the Ethereal Moon Ball. As lead Administrator, he typically made a brief appearance before retiring to his office, largely indifferent to the festivities. But this year, he had volunteered as a chaperone. Most assumed it was because Flayn would be attending. While that was partly true, his real motivation was more personal: Seteth wanted to catch a glimpse of the striking new Professor in her finest evening wear and steal at least one dance.

When Byleth had first arrived at Garreg Mach Seteth had viewed her with suspicion, much to his regret. Rhea had hired her, sight unseen, a decision that had unsettled him at the time. While he may still understand the Archbishop’s motives regarding the new professor, Seteth had come to respect and even trust her in the months since her arrival.

Byleth’s success with the Blue Lions, especially her swift actions in finding Flayn, had been the final push for him to deem her worthy. Originally, Seteth had tried to convince himself that her beauty and propensity for making him smile had nothing to do with his acceptance of her. Now, deep into their secret courtship her, Seteth’s heart lifted whenever she entered his view.

Standing almost a head taller than most of the students, Seteth observed the crowd with sharp, unerring eyesight. His gaze often returned to Flayn, who had arrived early with Annette to help with the night’s preparations. However, when his eyes found her telltale mint-green hair again, a flicker of irritation stirred. Flayn was in the arms of a familiar green-haired boy.

Linhardt, a young scholar from the Black Eagles, had been spending an increasing amount of time with Seteth’s daughter; more than the Administrator found comfortable. Unlike most boys at the Officers Academy, Linhardt had shown little interest in girls, which had made it easier for Seteth to tolerate their budding friendship. But lately, he found himself watching more closely.

The boy had volunteered to enter the crypt where the Death Knight had held her hostage and was instrumental in her rescue. Byleth had detailed to Seteth how Linhardt, with his intelligence and extensive knowledge, quickly removed the needles from her arms, despite his deep aversion to blood. He had then healed the punctures and stabilized her blood loss with his considerable white magic. If anyone could be trusted with Flayn, Seteth supposed the quiet boy who voluntarily risked his life for the sake of his daughter wasn't a terrible choice.

Lost in his reverie, watching his daughter and her erstwhile savior, Seteth did not notice when Byleth finally arrived. He did, however, notice a tall, blond head race across the room. The Crown Prince of Faerghus must have seen his Professor and cut across the dance floor to greet her.

Seteth disliked how the boy fawned over Byleth, uneasy with how familiar he acted with her. Byleth Eisner was a grown woman, his professor, not some girl to woo. Though, Seteth was remiss to acknowledge she may be too young for his own attentions.

But, who is not too young for you, you old dragon, he thought to himself.

Seteth begrudgingly watched as the Prince took the first dance with the Professor. Not being able to see her fully through the throng of people, he instead watched the tall Prince’s movements, assuming he was with Byleth. As gently as he could, Seteth slid through gaps in the crowd until he was closer to the main dance floor.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw the usually rough and tumble Byleth in her evening best. Like most of the women present, she wore a long floor length gown topped with a high waisted, tight fitting bodice. To accentuate her hair and eyes, the gown was made of a deep sapphire brocade. The loose, cotton chemise was visible beneath the slit in the brocade below the bodice. Her bodice was cut low, or appeared so with her large breasts, pushing them to her chest, creating an enticing curve. The laced edge of the top of her chemise enhanced the look of her perfect breasts.

Byleth wore her hair elegantly pinned up underneath a delicate lace snood. She chose to wear no jewelry; no earrings, no rings, not even a necklace. It wasn’t necessary; her neck, a long and graceful line, extended from her collarbones and flowed into the gentle curve at the top of her breasts. The effect was utterly mesmerizing, and Seteth was certain he wasn't the only man enchanted by her beauty at the ball tonight.

As the song ended and the Prince let his Professor go, Seteth made himself known. As the minstrels announced the next dance to be a couples allemande, Seteth stepped forward and gave Byleth a bow, ignoring the young Prince Dimitri beside her. Holding his hand out to the young woman, he asked, “My lady, would you do me the honor of being my partner for this dance?”

Giving him her characteristically mute smile, Byleth curtsied, completing the reverie that began the allemande. Taking Seteth’s arm, she lined up with him to begin the dance. “I only learned this dance recently, from Dorothea,” Byleth whispered to him. “I apologize if I step on your foot.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered back, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Just follow my lead.” Seteth hesitated to admit that this dance was as unfamiliar to him as it was to her, the steps of his youth long since lost to time and changing fashions. Thankfully, the allemande relied more on graceful movements than on intricate or demanding footwork.

As the music began, Seteth led her into the dance, his steps steady and deliberate as they kept time with the other couples on the floor. Seteth noted that the Crown Prince of Faerghus had partnered with the Crown Princess of the Empire. The mysterious grandson of the leader of the Alliance had chosen to dance with one of the girls from his own house.

The graceful promenades came naturally to Seteth, even if the steps themselves were unfamiliar. Byleth’s hand on his arm was tense at first, but her grip loosened as they moved together. Despite his age, Seteth could still feel the fluttering of butterflies in his belly as he gazed down at his lady.

Confidence gradually replaced her initial unease, reflected in the way Byleth carried herself through the dance. A quiet satisfaction stirred within Seteth as they found their rhythm. They danced with an elegance that masked her earlier reservations, and though she stepped on his boot once, he chose to ignore it, preserving her dignity as he continued to guide her with ease.

When the final notes played, he concluded the dance by giving her another bow. Byleth hastily gave him an awkward curtsy in return. While they were still close enough to whisper, he told her, “You look radiant this night, Byleth.” She gave him shy smile, her face flushed with what he hoped was more than just exertion. Before he could say any more she was pulled away by one of her female students.

Returning to his position along the wall, he watched the crowd, pretending not to notice a young man with familiar blond hair step up to stand next to him. “She’s beautiful tonight, isn’t she,” said Prince Dimitri, his jovial voice low enough so that only Seteth could hear him. Seteth only hummed in acknowledgment to the Prince, his eyes still on the ball. “She has me to thank for that. I’m sure you noticed that her gown is in the Faerghian colors.”

Not deigning to give the Prince a response, Seteth merely continued his duties in watching the ball. He noted that Flayn had left the floor while a lively contredanse began, taking refreshments with some girls from her class. Byleth attempted to join in with the contredanse, but was soon outmatched by the more experienced dancers. He smiled as he watched her fall to the edge of the crowd, laughing in glee.

After moments of silence passed between them, the Prince said, “That was rude, you know. Taking her for the allemande.”

Seteth smirked, not lowering his eyes to look at the slightly shorter young man. “She is a Professor in my school. I may dance with her if I wish. Just as I may dance with Madame Cassagranda, or any other colleague for that matter.”

“I doubt that,” snorted Dimitri, “Manuela has been glued to Captain Eisner’s side all evening.” Seteth clenched his jaw at how the Prince rudely named the Head Physician and Professor by her first name. His voice losing its jovial tone, Dimitri added, “And this is not your school, Administrator, it is Lady Rhea’s.”

Upon hearing Rhea’s name, Seteth was transported back when he had last seen her in the baths several nights earlier. The indescribably beautiful and ancient Archbishop had seemingly tried to seduce him; an act that had terrified him to his core. The woman had never shown him that kind of interest at any point during the several centuries they had known each other. That she had now was extremely disconcerting. Seteth had avoided the woman as much as he possibly could since then, only conversing with her in public spaces.

“Your Highness,” began Seteth, careful not to let the growl he felt in his chest escape his lips, “Garreg Mach and its Officer’s Academy are mine in all the ways that matter. You yourself have seen how the Archbishop does not … oversee daily matters, as such.” He admonished himself as he almost let his anger and jealousy let him reveal Rhea’s true state.

I will have to be more careful with this one. He is no schemer, but he is protective of those he deems to be in his circle.

“And Byleth is the head of my house, the Blue Lions,” said the Prince, a smile on his voice. “She is my Professor … in all ways that matter.”

Alarmed at the boy’s possessiveness, Seteth remarked, “Indeed, she is your Professor, and I expect you to treat her with the respect she is due.” Seteth had heard from his daughter about how Dimitri had stolen a kiss from Byleth the morning they left for the Rhodos Coast, but had chosen not to ask her about it. There was clearly tension there, but Byleth had told him she could deal with it, and so he trusted her to do so.

“Of course,” said the Prince, his jovial tone belying his true meaning to all but the most perceptive. “I greatly respect my Professor. More than I sense even you do, Administrator.” Giving Seteth a small nod, he said, “Enjoy the rest of the ball,” before moving forward to rejoin the crowd.

Having been unsettled by the strangely cryptic discussion with the usually honest and amiable Prince, Seteth searched through the crowd to find Byleth. She had been pulled away to the refreshments by Flayn. Good, he thought, I can trust them to behave whilst they’re together. Smiling to himself, he resumed his post, watching for any untoward actions from the young men in the crowd.

Chapter 68: Byleth - Goddess Tower

Summary:

Byleth and Dimitri have an encounter at the Goddess Tower during the Ethereal Moon Ball.

Notes:

Content warning: anger, violence, and sexual content.

After her fifth dance of the night with one of the students, Byleth stole away outside to get some air. Her head ached from the pins that kept the snood attached to her head. Walking out onto the bridge connecting the main building to the cathedral, she ignored the feeling of cold early winter air against the bare skin of her arms.

As she walked along the bridge, Byleth felt compelled to keep going. Before long, the familiar lilt of her Goddess’ voice asked, “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” she asked, turning her head this way and that, trying to catch the sound. “I don’t hear any —”

“Shh,” admonished Sothis’ voice in her head. Obeying, Byleth strained to hear what Sothis had picked up. Standing still, Byleth finally noticed it: the soft notes of a woman singing. As she crossed the bridge and came to the cathedral, she noted the song came from within. Not wanting to open the huge main entrance doors, Byleth opted to hurry around the side of the cathedral and peer in through the side door near the Goddess Tower.

While the reception hall was full of light and life, the cathedral was dark and completely empty, save for one figure. In the darkness, Lady Rhea was standing in the center of the cathedral, moonlight shining on her in brilliant colors as it came through the stained glass windows. She sang a song with in a clear, ethereal voice. The song was sad and in a language that Byleth didn’t recognize.

“That song is … familiar,” mused the Goddess in her head. “Somehow, I know she wrote it.”

As the Archbishop concluded her song, Byleth noted in horror as the woman turned her way. Terrified that Rhea would catch her, Byleth darted away from the door. She turned to the only hiding place she could see from the wide ramparts: the Goddess Tower.

Thanking Sothis that the door to the tower was unlocked, Byleth hurried inside, shutting the door as silently as she could behind her. Heaving a sigh now that she was safe, Byleth jumped when she heard a male voice behind her. “Professor?” said Dimitri, surprised as much as she was.

Oh thank the Goddess, she thought as she gazed on his beautiful face in the moonlight.

“Don’t thank me,” quipped Sothis inside her head, “He walked himself here.”

Shush you, admonished Byleth, trying to keep her expression impassive. Though, she wasn’t sure how much Dimitri could see of her in the shadows of the doorway. Walking forward into the moonlight, she saw him give her a gentle smile.

“It’s quiet here, isn’t it,” he began, turning to look out the ancient stone window that looked out over the countryside below. The window was so deeply set into the ancient wall that the sill was wide enough to sit on safely. The moonlight shone through onto him, accentuating his handsome, masculine features. His ice-blue eyes glowed with the soft silver light on his face.

“It was Edelgard who first taught me to dance you know. When we were children.” Dimitri heaved a sigh, looking up to the moon. “It was … strange dancing with her tonight.

“You two were children together?” Byleth asked.

“I’ve told you she was my step sister, didn’t I?” he returned, turning to look at her. “Her birth mother married my father. But I didn’t know that at the time. Somehow, against all odds, we still became friends during that year she spent in Fhirdiad.”

“Friends? Not like brother and sister?” This truly was a strange relationship these two had.

“No,” chuckled Dimitri, his eyes sad. “I met her at Lord Arundel’s residence in the city. The Empire was in a time of great turmoil and she was sent away for her own safety. Despite her difficult nature we became quite close.”

Crossing his arms, he looked back over the landscape below the tower. Byleth wanted to comfort him in his sadness, but she didn’t know how. “It’s silly, now that I think of it, but I gave her dagger as a parting gift.”

“A dagger?”

“Yeah, it’s seems a bit odd, but it’s because of an old folktale, about a Princess using a blade to cut her own destiny. I thought with that little dagger El could do the same.” Long moments passed between them before Dimitri spoke again. “Do you know the legend of the Goddess Tower?” he asked, still looking up into the night sky.

“No,” she admitted, closing the gap between them. Byleth could feel butterflies begin to form in her belly as the chill of the night washed against her skin. Standing next to him, she leaned on the same wide stone window sill.

“They say a wish made in this tower will come true. I wonder who came up with such a silly notion.”

Gazing up at him, Byleth asked, “What is it you wish for Dimitri?”

“Hmm, I suppose …” he hummed, closing his eyes, “A world where no one is unjustly taken from us … or something along those lines.”

Placing a hand on his arm, knowing full well just how much he had lost, Byleth told him, “That’s a fine wish.”

Covering her hand with his, he turned to her. “Thank you … though, in times like this, perhaps it would be more sensible to wish that we’ll be together forever …”

Shocked at his candidness, Byleth stared up at him, her jaw slack. Seeing her reaction to his words, Dimitri pulled his hand from hers to scratch the back of his head. Forcing a laugh, he said, “The Blue Lions I mean.”

“No you didn’t,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if she should be hurt by his obvious lie, or let it sit, a barrier between their true feelings. Here, alone in the tower, in the silver moonlight, Byleth could see why she fell for the Prince in the first place. She unwittingly allowed the spell of desire for this gallant, fairy tale prince take hold of her once more.

“No, I didn’t,” he admitted. Placing his hand under her chin, he nudged it up so that she was looking into his eyes. “Please, forgive me, Professor. I blurt out irresponsible things like that all the time to my classmates; promises of seeing each other again and the like.”

Smiling softly at her he admitted, “I have no business making promises of the future. There are certain things I must accomplish, things that are likely to risk my life.” Sighing, he caressed her jaw with his thumb. “I may not even have a future to promise to someone …”

“No one ever knows the future,” breathed Byleth. Despite herself, she leaned into his caress. “What is it you want right now Dimitri?”

“I want you,” he sighed, leaning in to kiss her. The butterflies in her belly took flight as she accepted his kiss. As his lips pressed against hers, she delighted in how they tasted of wine and sweat from the night’s dancing.

Her pulse thundered in her ears as he grabbed her about the waist and hefted her onto the large stone window sill. Despite there being no glass in the window, they were at no risk of falling, the wall itself being almost six feet thick. Sitting on the wall gave her the advantage of being at the same level as the Prince as he kissed her.

With his left arm holding her tight, Dimitri cupped her cheek with his right. “You are so beautiful tonight,” he breathed between kisses. “Every man in the ball was staring at you.”

“All thanks to you,” she giggled. “I didn’t know you had an eye for women’s clothing.”

“I usually don’t,” he whispered against her neck, placing a kiss below her ear. “But I wanted you to look your best for your first ball.” Her skin burned with desire as he caressed her, his hand slowly tracing down her neck to her breast.

Gently, oh so gently, he slipped his hand beneath her chemise and bodice, pulling her right breast free from the dress. Her left breast also came free as the fabric was pulled down her body. Dimitri moved his lips from her neck, sucking at her skin in slow, deliberate movements as he made his way lower. When he took a nipple in his mouth, Byleth gasped, not expecting the wave of pleasure that crashed over her.

As he sucked on her nipple, slowly circling it with his tongue, he pushed her down against the stone sill. She could feel the space between her legs grow wet and hot as he continued. Missing his kiss on her lips, she pulled his hair gently to bring his head back up to hers.

Wrapping her arms around the Prince’s neck, Byleth pulled him to her. As she kissed him, she explored his mouth with her tongue, delighted to hear his moans of pleasure as she did so. So enraptured by him, she ignored the sting as pins were torn from her hair, scraping against the stone.

As he continued to kiss her, she could feel his hand move further down her body and begin to pull up her skirts. Byleth shivered as Dimitri’s battle scarred hand caressed up her bloomer covered leg and found her naked belly. Gliding his hand inside her bloomers, his fingers found what they had been searching for between her legs.

Gasping louder than she had expected when he touched her there, Byleth embraced the Prince tight to her. As he slid one finger and then a second inside her, she bit into his shoulder to keep from crying out. “It seems you’re already wet for me, Professor,” he breathed sensually into her ear.

Professor.

That one word shattered the spell and Byleth’s eyes flew wide open. “No no no no no no,” she stammered loudly, pushing him forcefully off of her. Jumping down from the stone sill, she pulled her bloomers up and her skirts down. “No no no — this is wrong — we can’t be doing this,” she said, panicked, fear falling in her belly like a brick

Grabbing her by the arm with his left hand, Dimitri whirled her around to look at him. “What’s wrong Byleth?” he asked her, alarm in his voice. Her eyes darted to his trousers and with dread noted a clear bulge there.

“I’m your Professor — you’re my student,” she exclaimed, removing her arm from his grasp. Pulling her gown up further than it was intended to be worn, she covered her breasts with fabric and then her arms. “Not only that, you’re the Goddess be damned Crown Prince of a whole fucking country! We cannot do this!”

“But,” he began, exasperated, a flush of embarrassment filling his cheeks. “Why should that matter?” He reached out for her once again, but she batted his hand away.

“No Dimitri — we — I — cannot do this! What would happen if I got pregnant? Did you think of that? It’s not like I could be your Queen.”

“Maybe you could,” he muttered, watching her.

“Don’t be stupid,” she spat, anger filling her eyes. “I’m just a commoner, my life doesn’t mean anything compared to yours! At best I’d be your mistress.”

“Don’t say that,” he cried, “Your life means something! You mean a great deal to me, to all of us!”

“But that’s not enough, not for this!” she shouted, turning from him. Just as she reached for the door, she was surprised to see it open from the other side. Stepping back so she wouldn’t be hit, she watched in horror as Seteth pushed through.

Before she could register the look of hurt and rage on the man she had promised to court in front of her, she called on her Goddess’s power to turn back time. She traveled back to when Dimitri first kissed her. Her breasts were snug back inside the bodice of her gown and her hair was still immaculately in place. Instead of letting him push her down onto the window sill cut from the ancient wall, she pushed him back. Her head pounded from the exertion of the time travel.

“Dimitri, I’m sorry, I can’t —”

Instead of letting her go like he had in the past, the young man’s rage cut through. “Well when the fuck can you Byleth!?” he screamed at her, clenching his fists tightly. “I have tried so many times with you, but you keep pushing me away!”

Terror gripped her chest as Dimitri grabbed her by the arms. His fingers dug into her skin, spurred on by the inhuman strength granted to him by his Crest. Thankfully the young man did not force another kiss on her, like he had the morning of her departure to the Rhodos Coast. He did, however, glower at her, the pupils of his eyes thinning to pin pricks.

“Is it Seteth? What do you see in that stodgy old priest? He has nothing to give you, I have a whole Kingdom!”

“That’s not —”

He cut her off yet again, his voice frantic and tight with fury. “You look incredible in that dress! But, apparently, not incredible enough to warrant a thank you for it!”

“Is that so!?” she raged back at him, kneeing him in the gut. As he was doubled over she was able to break free from his grasp. Pushing away from him, she proceeded to rip the gown from her body. Throwing it at his feet, she yelled, “There, have it back, you bastard!”

Wearing only her borrowed and too-long chemise, Byleth pulled up the hem and stalked away from the Prince, fury filling her veins. He stopped her, gripping her arm tightly. Much too tightly, she realized, pain shooting through her bicep. As she turned to kick the Prince, a blur of black and green set upon the young man.

Dammit, I forgot Seteth was on the other side of the door!

Growling in an altogether inhuman way, Seteth beat the Crown Prince of Faerghus into the stonework with closed fists. Byleth watched in horror as the usually composed Administrator lost his control. Much like their battle on the Rhodos Coast, his eyes shone a bright, almost glowing, green. Even the pupils appeared to slit like those of a wyvern in his berserk rage.

“HOW DARE YOU HARM MY WOMAN!” roared Seteth in a deeper and more terrifying voice than she had ever heard from him before. From any man, for that fact.

Fearful that the Prince would die if she did nothing, Byleth turned back the clock once again. This time she went back to before Dimitri kissed her. Her gown and hair pins were yet again back in place. The stress of multiple uses of the divine pulse had Byleth reeling. Dizzy and her head pounding, she wavered on her feet in front of the Prince. Just as Dimitri reached for her out of concern, Byleth bent over and puked all over his dress shoes.

“Holy shit, what —”

“Sorry,” coughed Byleth before spinning around and running from the Goddess Tower. Knowing full well that Seteth was on his way, she ran as fast as she could. She hoped that she could put enough distance between her and Dimitri that Seteth wouldn’t even know she had met up with the boy.

Running along the battlements, she was both trepidatious and relieved when she saw Seteth. Determined to run right past him, her chemise came loose from being folded under her bodice due to her exertions. As her foot drew down it pulled the long bottom hem of the chemise, causing her to trip. She fell forward directly in front of the man, cracking her face on the stonework of the bridge, knocking herself unconscious.

Chapter 69: Seteth - Main Hall

Summary:

Seteth finds Byleth right as she is gravely injured from the fall.

Notes:

Content warning: medical treatment.

As the ball died down and people began to leave, Seteth noted with dismay that Byleth was not there. Neither was Prince Dimitri. Disgruntled, he approached Flayn as she was preparing to leave with Annette. Her other friend, the older girl named Mercedes, was off in the corner with the young man from Duscur.

“Have you seen Byleth?” Seteth asked his daughter.

“She left a few dances ago,” piped up Annette before Flayn had a chance to speak. “I saw her walking towards the bridge.”

“Thank you, Annette,” said Seteth with a slight bow of his head. “Please, Flayn, take Annette with you to our apartment. I do not wish for you two to be walking alone outside tonight.”

Rolling her eyes, Flayn said, “As you wish Brother. Come Annette, we have a large book collection you must see.”

“Ooh,” exclaimed the girl excitedly. “I get to see Administrator Seteth’s private collection, what a treat!”

“Just be careful, some of the books are very old,” he warned as he turned to leave.

Concerned that the Prince may have followed Byleth, he jogged out of the hall and up the bridge, thankful it was barren at this time of night. Looking up at the cathedral on the other end of the bridge, Seteth slowed. Closing his eyes, he controlled his breathing so that he could attune his super-human hearing to the ramparts. Every little sound bounced off the smooth stone. He could hear the footsteps as cats stalked their prey; the talons of night birds skittering against roof tiles as they landed.

Without warning a wave of dizziness hit him, causing him to falter. A flash of hurt and sadness filled his heart, before a second wave if dizziness hit him. Almost bent over with nausea, he felt an ache in his knuckles. As though he had been punching something.

What in Sothis’s name is that? he wondered, looking at his hands.

Shortly thereafter he heard the beating footsteps of a person running at full tilt towards him. Turning to the sound, he saw Byleth towards him and the bridge. Just as she approached him the hem of her chemise underdress came loose, causing her to trip. To his utter dismay she fell face first to the stonework, cracking the delicate bones of her face with a haunting crunch.

“BYLETH!” screamed Seteth, running towards her. Fear chilled his blood when he realized she was not moving when he reached her. Without a second thought he picked the young woman up and darted back to his apartments on the third flood of the Main Building. At some point Jeralt and Manuela saw him and followed him up to his rooms.

“Flayn!” called Seteth, practically kicking his door down. His daughter and the young mage were just inside, sitting at the kitchen table with freshly made tea.

Seteth placed Byleth gently on the couch in his front sitting room. Until now he had not taken the time to look at the damage done to her face. Her fall had been a hard one, breaking her nose and potentially even her cheek bone. Blood was streaming down her face from her nose and mouth. A large bruise was already swelling around her right eye.

Accustomed to taking quick action during wartime, Flayn was immediately by her father’s side. Deftly moving Byleth’s nose back into place, she ordered her father to hold it there while she worked her white magic. Manuela also stepped in, pressing her healing hands to Byleth’s right cheek and occipital lobe.

“What happened?” asked Jeralt, standing to the side. Annette had frozen in place, still sitting at the table.

“I don’t know,” admitted Seteth, swallowing his fear so he could help as best as possible. “She was running fast, too fast, then tripped on her dress. Her face hit the paving stones; she knocked herself out cold. She was lucky I was there.”

“Well shit,” grumbled Jeralt. “That’s a hell of a thing.”

As his daughter and the lead physician worked to heal Byleth, Seteth felt a pain in his heart. He couldn’t bear to see a woman he cared for in pain. When Flayn gently told him he could release her nose, he placed his hand against the side of her left cheek. “Don’t worry sweet one, I’m here. We’re all here. You will be alright.”

“Seteth,” said Manuela softly, “We can take it from here. Once she’s stable we will move her to the infirmary.”

“No,” grunted Byleth, shocking them all. Jeralt was the only one who didn’t gasp.

“Thought you were out kid,” he chuckled. “Took a hell of a fall. How are you feeling?”

Seteth watched as Byleth’s eyes fluttered open. It was only then that he realized he had been crying. Wiping his eyes, he gave her a weary smile.

Byleth’s eyes first searched for him before they fell to her father. “I’ve been better. My face hurts.”

“I don’t doubt it,” commented Manuela, standing from her kneeling position. With a groan, she stretched her sore back, her belly bump visible on her front. “You broke your nose and your occipital lobe. That’s your —”

“Eye bone, yeah, I know,” interrupted Byleth, forcing herself to her elbows. “You taught me that, remember.”

“Yeah,” breathed the older woman, content that Byleth was relatively okay. “Well, even if you don’t want to go to the infirmary, you shouldn’t stay alone tonight.” Turning to Jeralt, she asked him, “Honey, do you want to take her back to the Captain’s Quarters?”

“Can I just stay here?” Byleth asked. Seteth felt an unexpected flutter in his heart at her request. “I mean, only if Seteth can spare his couch for the night.”

“Of course,” conceded Seteth with a grateful exhale. “Flayn and I can watch over her.” Looking to his daughter, who was still kneeling next to Byleth, he asked her, “As long as you are comfortable with that Flayn.”

“Of course Brother,” she replied with a genuine smile. “I’ll want to keep an eye on her anyway, she’s likely got a concussion, on top of minor bone fractures. Though,” looking to Annette, “Annie has got to go back to the dorms.”

“Right,” said Seteth, turning to the girl. “Let me escort you, Miss Dominic. The time is late and it appears Miss Eisner is in good hands.”

Bewildered, Annette stood from the table. On the verge of tears, she spluttered, “I’m so sorry Professor, I didn’t know what to do to help!”

“Don’t worry about it,” grumbled Byleth, pulling at the blue gown she wore. “Actually, you can help me right now.” Taking Flayn’s hand, Byleth stood on wobbly legs. “Can you help me out of this stupid thing? I want to give it back to Mercedes tonight. I really hate it after what happened.”

Jeralt snorted, causing Manuela to smack him on his upper arm. Even though she wore a chemise beneath, Seteth turned to give Byleth a modicum of privacy as Annette helped unlace her from the gown. He kept his back turned as the girl approached him, the blue gown folded in her arms. With a short look over his shoulders, he said, “I will be back shortly. Flayn, please make her comfortable.”

Jeralt and Manuela followed Seteth and Annette out of his apartments. “I feel we have should have words, Lord Seteth,” grumbled Jeralt once the door was closed. Manuela was holding onto his arm, clearly fatigued from the ball and her work with white magic.

Not wishing to reveal too much in front of the young student at his side, Seteth said, “Yes Captain. Tomorrow, at your earliest convenience. Come Annette, it is much too late for you to be out.”

***

Once Seteth had seen the girl safely to her dormitory, he returned swiftly to his own apartments. There were no candles or lanterns lit when he entered, just the soft glow of the fireplace. Byleth was laying down on the same couch he had placed her on when he first brought her into his apartments. A pillow stolen from Flayn’s bed was under her head, a quilt wrapped around her sleeping form. Seteth was chuffed to realize the quilt was the same one Flayn had retrieved from their seaside cottage weeks before. He had made that quilt for Flayn himself decades earlier.

Sitting on his knees, he leaned against the couch. Wrapping an arm around her sleeping form, he gently drew her hair away from her injured cheek. Flayn, as usual, had done wonders with her magic: barely even a bruise was visible. At some point while he was gone all of the hair pins had been pulled from her scalp, her long tresses laying splayed against the pillows.

“What am I going to do with you?” he breathed, watching her. In her sleep she replied with an unintelligible mutter. Smiling, he kissed her hair gently, careful not to touch her injury. “Sleep well, my sweet one,” he hummed, before leaving the front room for his own.

Chapter 70: Flayn - Main Hall

Summary:

Flayn's experiences during and after the Ethereal Moon Ball.

Note: need to fix what Annette and Flayn are wearing based on this earlier chapter:
Mercedes and Ingrid, with Byleth tagging along without having any other plans, found Annette in her room with Flayn. They were already in their evening wear and helping each other with their hair. Annette wore a simple but elegant beige gown that complemented her orange girls. Byleth was slightly dismayed to see Flayn wearing the formal officer’s uniform, only with a floor length skirt. She would have to ask Seteth later why he had not gotten his daughter a nicer gown for the event.

 

The light from the candles both in the chandeliers and on tables filled the exquisitely decorated Main Hall of Garreg Mach. Immensely excited about her first ever ball, Flayn had begged her father to let her help with setting up. Annette, just as excited, had joined her, giggling and gossiping as they set out tablecloths and flower arrangements.

“My Goddess,” giggled Annette, smoothing out a wrinkle in a tablecloth, “Did you see the gown Dimitri and Mercedes were working on for the Professor? It’s gorgeous! Much more mature than this childish thing my father made me wear.” Annette motioned to the simple but high collared beige gown, trimmed along every edge with lace.

“Do you think the Prince is hoping the gift of the gown will garner the Professor’s forgiveness?” Flayn asked, looking to her friend. Dimitri’s kiss, stolen from Byleth, was still fresh in the minds of the Blue Lions, no matter how many days ago it occurred. Flayn, however, knew the secret of her father’s courtship with Byleth and was wary of any attention her house leader may bestow on their professor.

Annette pulled at her collar, annoyed. Looking around, seemingly for the dour Gilbert, the red-haired girl undid the top several buttons of her high collar. Sighing, Annette rubbed her neck. “I don’t know how you stand having so much fabric around your neck all day Flayn. It makes me feel like I’m choking.”

“Yes, well,” smiled Flayn, stepping over to Annette to delicately fold her collar down, “Mine fits me properly. And I don’t think you look childish Annie.”

After a beat of allowing Flayn to fuss with her dress, Annette asked, “Do you think he will like it?” A blush soon filled the girl’s freckled skin.

“Who? Felix?” Flayn knew her friend had a crush on the severe swordsman, although they did not talk of it often. Annette was too embarrassed.

“Shush!” demanded Annette, placing a hand over Flayn’s mouth. Her eyes darted around the hall as more and more people entered. “Don’t say it out loud!”

“Why not?” mumbled Flayn against Annette’s palm. Gently moving the girl’s hand away, the mint-haired young woman smiled. “It’s perfectly normal to —”

“Shush I said!” commanded the girl, stamping her foot. In a clear attempt to redirect the conversation, Annette, bright red, asked, “What about Linhardt? I’m surprised you didn’t dress up for him.”

Blinking, Flayn considered Annette’s words. “Linhardt doesn’t really care about dressing up, as far as I can ascertain. Besides, I’m not even sure he likes me that way.”

Annette snorted, sidling up to Flayn. Whispering dramatically, she said, “Are you kidding me? He spends all of his free time with you or in the library. Which, from what I understand, you also spend a lot of time in.”

“Oh we’re just reading,” scoffed Flayn.

“Yeah, but I always find you two sitting at the same table,” cooed Annette. Her shoulders falling, “At least he spends time with you. I can’t even get Fe — I can’t even get him to look at me.”

“That’s not true,” said Flayn, “I’ve caught him looking at you plenty of times. It’s just not when you can see him. He’s sneaky like that.” Nudging Annette, Flayn added with a smirk, “How about we make a deal. I’ll ask Linhardt to dance if you ask Felix. Sound good?”

***

As the hall filled and the music of the first dances had played, Flayn’s eyes found Felix leaning against a column. The young man was dressed sharply in the traditional teals of his noble house. Watching him surveying the dance hall like a battlefield, Flayn recalled how Felix had taken charge in Remire. Despite making no effort to be agreeable or friendly, she understood why her father believed the young man held promise as a leader.

A dancer though? Not so much

Leaning into her so that Flayn could hear her, Annette whispered, “I’ve seen him turn down several dance offers, including one from Dorothea. There’s no way he’d say yes to me.”

Flayn stifled a laugh. “I’ll go with you, lend you some support.”

Just as the girls stepped away from their table, Linhardt approached them. He was wearing his standard academy uniform, causing Flayn to feel better about her own choice to wear hers. “Oh good, I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “It’s so busy and loud in here, I’m finding it rather easy to get lost.”

“Hi Linhardt!” exclaimed Annette, a wide smile on her face. Flayn felt herself blush slightly when the girl said, “We’re happy to see you here too!”

As the next song began, Linhardt glanced toward the ballroom floor. “The allemande,” he said plainly, extending a gloved hand: white leather, crisp against the candlelight. His expression remained unreadable as he asked, “Flayn, may I have this dance?”

Looking from Annette to Linhardt, she curtseyed and took his hand. Before they stepped out onto the floor, Flayn said to Annette, “Go ask him!”

“Hey, not fair!” complained Annette as they left for the dance floor. “You didn’t have to ask your boy!”

They were out amongst the other couples before Linhardt asked quietly, “What was that she said?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” murmured Flayn, “She’s just a little scared to ask her crush to dance.”

“Yes, well, Felix can be quite off putting,” grumbled Linhardt. “He always wants people to spar with him. I’d wager he’d rather duel every single person in this hall before dancing with any one of them.”

Flayn snorted. “I didn’t expect you to be quite so … observant.”

Linhardt hesitated slightly before offering her his hand for the allemande. She could see him clench his jaw when she touched his fingers. “I observe quite a bit, I just don’t care like most people do. But there is one thing I agree with Felix on: I find dancing just as tedious.”

Just as Flayn’s heart rose in a flutter when he had offered her his hand, it dropped at those words. “Then why are you here?”

“Because my father insisted I learn to be a proper noble, so I might as well put the training to use,” he said with his characteristic nonchalance. His eyes darting to her own, then down to their hands where they only just barely touched, “And because I thought you might enjoy it. I … like to see you happy.”

Before Flayn could reply, the allemande dance began. She had never taken part in this dance before, but found it easy to follow with Linhardt leading her. Flayn watched his expression, flat as ever, but his feet never missed a step.

When the dance had ended, they returned to the table she and Annette had claimed for the night. The other girl had not yet returned herself, though whether that was because she had managed to dance with the swordsman, Flayn couldn’t tell.

Letting out a quiet laugh, Flayn confessed, “I must admit that I’ve never danced that way before. I find it unexpected, but enjoyable.” With a small smile, she gestured to the rest of the crowd. “Perhaps I should have worn a gown. I feel like I stand out wearing my daily uniform.”

“You stand out already,” Linhardt replied. “Your uniform suits you.” He glanced down at his own. “I wore mine too. Seems practical.” His tone was so casual she couldn’t tell if he meant it as a compliment, but she smiled anyway.

Bowing his head slightly to her, Linhardt said, visibly trying to keep his composure, “I … grow tired. I’ve fulfilled my duty. Showed my face. I think it is time I retired for the night.”

Reaching out for him, but careful not to actually touch him, Flayn asked, “Are you alright? Do you want me to walk you home?”

Shaking his head, Linhardt said, “No, this is your first ball. I want you to stay and enjoy it. I will be fine, I just don’t like loud noises … or crowds.”

He paused before turning away.

“Thank you,” he said. “It was ... fun.” The corner of his mouth turning up into a small grin, he added, “I appreciate your patience with my … mannerisms.”

Flayn watched him go, her hand still tingling from his brief touch. The dance had ended, but something lingered: something quiet, sincere, and unexpected.

Flayn stepped away from the dance floor as the musicians struck up a lively contredanse. She approached the refreshment tables, finding not only Annette there, but Mercedes and Ingrid as well. The other two girls wore vastly different gowns: Ingrid in a dark green gown, fitted tight to fully cover her torso and arms, with a modest skirt flaring out at the hips; Mercedes in a pale cream gown cut in a low sitting, high waisted bodice that showed off her cleavage, similar in style to many other girls tonight.

The three were speaking as Flayn approached them.

“I’m surprised you let Sylvain dance with you,” said Annette to Ingrid, swirling the watered down wine in her glass.

“I’m more surprised that he hasn’t danced with anyone else,” commented Mercedes, looking out into the crowd. “In a couples dance, I mean. He seems to be having fun with the contredanse at the moment.”

Following the young woman’s eyes, Flayn saw the chaos of the fast paced dance on the floor before them. At some point Professor Byleth had stepped into the crowd, trying to follow the rhythm of the more experienced dancers. It didn’t take long for the music to outrun her steps. Flayn grinned as Byleth laughed and slipped to the edge of the throng, smiling wide.

Her smile faded slightly as Flayn noticed her father standing just beyond the dance floor. He wasn't watching the dancers as a group: his eyes were fixed solely on Byleth. Seteth’s expression, as always, was difficult to read, but Flayn knew that look well. It was the one he reserved for matters that concerned him more than he let on.

Taking a glass from Ingrid, Flayn took a quiet sip, watching them both. I wonder how long they’ll keep this courtship quiet, she mused to herself.

Ingrid shook Flayn from her reverie when she asked, “I saw you dance with Linhardt during the allemande Flayn. How did you enjoy it?”

“It was my first time,” Flayn confessed, feeling her face flush slightly. “I had no idea what I was doing, but Linhardt led me through it. I was surprised he knew the steps, he doesn’t seem to enjoy dancing that much.”

“He’s nobility,” shrugged Ingrid, “We all have to learn these things.” Taking a sip, she groaned, “Even Felix. Good Goddess, you should have seen him as a kid. He hated learning, but his mother, Goddess bless her soul, made him. Sometimes I think I still have bruises on my feet from how many times he stepped on them. Sylvain was much better.”

Noticing Annette’s face redden when Felix’s dancing abilities were mentioned, Flayn aimed to redirect the conversation. “You’ve known each other since childhood, is that right? You, Felix, and Sylvain?”

“Felix is practically my little brother,” said Ingrid with a shrug. “I had been betrothed to his older brother, Glenn, since birth, so I spent more time in Fraldarius than my own territory. Sylvain traveled to see us often enough. Dimitri too.”

Her face growing dark, Ingrid added, “Once Duscur happened, things changed, and I wasn’t in Fraldarius as much. But I still saw all of them pretty frequently.” Smiling sadly, she said, “It’s been really good to see them every day here.”

Mercedes squeezed the younger woman’s shoulder amiably. “Come now, Ingrid, tonight is a night of celebration! Let’s do our best to enjoy it.” Moving her hand to rub her friend’s shoulder, she added, “Or we could leave. Your choice.”

“No,” said Ingrid, forcing herself to smile. “I want to stay. If only to see how flustered Dedue gets when he sees you.”

Laughing, Mercedes countered, “Or how flustered Sylvain will be when he asks you to dance again. Speaking of,” she said, seeing the ruby-haired young man approach.

“Hello ladies,” said Sylvain with a smirk, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face. The young man was wearing his formal clothing from Gautier, the northern most province in all of Fodlan. The heavy wools and velvets were clearly overheating him, especially after the lively dance.

“Good Goddess Sylvain,” admonished Ingrid, grabbing Sylvain’s hand. “Come with me, you need to get some air or you’ll faint. I know it’s winter, but it’s still much too warm to be wearing all that.”

“Admit it,” he cooed, following her out the door into the cooler night air, “You just want to get my shirt off.”

“Yes,” answered Ingrid without preamble, “But only because I don’t want you fainting and cracking your head open.”

Before they were all the way out the door, Sylvain turned back and shouted to Annette, “Sorry Annie, Felix already left. He hates dances. You’ll have to catch him next time!”

“Thanks,” squeaked Annette, too embarrassed to do much else. Once the pair had disappeared through the doors, Annette turned to Mercedes and Flayn. “Why in the name of the Goddess does everyone but Felix seem to realize I like him?”

“Because,” said Mercedes, matter-of-factly, “Felix is too focused on fighting. But he does notice, in his own way. You just have to be patient my dear.”

All three of them gave tired but genuine laughs at Mercedes’ comment. As the music carried on, Flayn felt herself relax. The night had brought its share of tangled feelings, but here, surrounded by her new friends, she felt grounded. Whatever came next could wait.

For now, she belonged.

***

The music had quieted, and the hall had begun to thin. Flayn lingered near the refreshment tables with Annette, their plans to leave half-formed as the evening wound down. Ingrid and Sylvain had not returned, and Mercedes had since left with Dedue.

She noticed her father pacing the far edge of the room. His eyes swept the space once, then narrowed slightly. Something was wrong. Flayn followed his line of sight, but Byleth was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Prince Dimitri.

Seteth approached, his posture precise. Flayn turned toward him just as he reached them. “Have you seen Byleth?” he asked, his voice clipped.

“She left a few dances ago,” piped up Annette before Flayn could answer. “I saw her walking towards the bridge.”

“Thank you, Annette,” said Seteth with a slight bow of his head. “Please, Flayn, take Annette with you to our apartment. I do not wish you two walking alone outside tonight.”

Rolling her eyes, Flayn replied, “As you wish, Brother. Come Annette, we have a large book collection you must see.”

“Ooh,” Annette exclaimed. “I get to see Administrator Seteth’s private collection, what a treat!”

“Just be careful, some of the books are very old,” he warned as he turned to leave.

***

Steam curled up from the kettle as Flayn retrieved a pair of teacups from the cupboard, trying not to laugh as Annette recounted her dance with Linhardt.

“He was staring at his feet the whole time,” Annette said, her voice lilting with amusement. “Well, except for when he was looking at you. He stayed longer than Felix at least.” She added the last part with a huff.

“He was just being polite,” Flayn replied quickly, though her cheeks betrayed her with a flush of pink. “We’re friends. That’s all.”

Annette giggled behind her hand. “Friends don’t always offer up their limited social energy so willingly. Especially not Linhardt. You must be his exception.”

Flayn rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hide her smile. “Alright, enough teasing. Is that what you were doing during the allemande? Watching me and Linhardt?”

“What else was I supposed to do? Felix disappeared before I could even ask him.”

Before Flayn could reply, she felt a wave of dizziness fall over her. She recalled feeling this way once or twice before: on the battlefield with her professor. Noticing her waver, Annette asked, alarmed, “Flayn, what’s —”

Then another wave hit Flayn, staggering her. Grasping the table for balance, she slid into a dining chair. It was exactly like what she experienced at Remire, just before Byleth challenged the Death Knight.

What was going on?

Moments later the front door slammed open. Seteth burst in, arms wrapped around Byleth’s limp form. Her face was a mask of red: nose shattered, mouth covered in blood, one eye already swelling shut.

As she had on the many battlefields both in the recent and distant past, Flayn jumped in to help. Her father obeyed her instructions to place the professor on the couch, and to hold her nose in place as Flayn healed it. At some point Professor Manuela and Captain Jeralt joined them, seemingly following Seteth after seeing him running through the hall and up the stairs with the unconscious Byleth.

Flayn ignored the conversation behind her as she worked, doing her best to cast magic in tandem with Manuela. Once Byleth was stable, she stood, Manuela joining her. Her heart broke when she noticed the tears on her father’s eyes.

What in the nine hells was she running from?

Flayn had not been terribly surprised when Byleth had asked to remain with them for the night. If she were honest with herself, she had been grateful, for it allowed her to watch over her patient’s condition. And it would give her father some comfort as well, to know the woman he had come to care for was close by and as safe as could be.

Once she and Byleth were alone, the others having left to either return home or escort someone else home, Flayn pulled up a dining chair and sat beside her professor on the couch. “So,” she asked, walking to the kitchen to grab a bowl full of water and a couple hand towels. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Promise not to tell your father?” grumbled Byleth, looking up at the ceiling.

“That bad, huh?” quipped Flayn, setting the bowl on the side table next to the couch. Dipping a towel into the water, she gently wiped the drying blood from Byleth’s face. Her professor barely flinched as Flayn dragged the cloth against her injured skin.

“You are my friend first, professor second, and whatever you call someone courting your father third.”

Byleth snorted. “I have the same problem you do, it seems. I have no idea what to call Manuela. She has steadfastly told me to never call her ‘step-mother’.”

Flayn laughed heartily, rinsing some of the blood from the towel before bringing it to Byleth’s chest. Thankfully only some blood had made its way to her chemise and she wouldn’t have to take that off as well. Most of the blood had fallen on the gorgeous sapphire blue gown that Mercedes and, apparently, Prince Dimitri had made for her. “I will not be calling you ‘step-mother’, have no worry of that.”

Byleth attempted a grin before flinching in pain. “I was … spooked … by His Highness.”

Flayn’s blood chilled in her veins. No, she definitely could not tell her father about this without him doing something drastic to her house leader. “Did he touch you? Dimitri?”

Byleth was quiet for a long while before answering, “In a way. But it was my fault.” Grabbing Flayn by the wrist so that she would pause her ministrations, Byleth stared up into her eyes. “You must know, I chose your father. I chose to court him, and I choose to court him still.”

Leaving Byleth’s hand on her arm, Flayn knelt to the floor so her face was level with her professor’s. She could see the dark-haired woman’s eyes begin to wet with tears. “Whatever happened is not your fault,” said Flayn, her voice low and serious. “If Dimitri touched you without you wanting him to, he can be removed. He may be a prince, but he is still a student here.”

Byleth shook her head before gasping in pain. “Goddess damn these pins!” She reached up to her hair, groaning as she tried to reach for the remaining hair pins.

“Here, let me,” whispered Flayn. As she worked to remove the rest of the hair pins keeping Byleth’s hair pinned up in the snood, she asked, “What do you want to do?”

“Nothing,” muttered Byleth, her eyes closed. “Dimitri did not hurt me, I did that all on my own. I just … I just don’t want to see him for a bit.” Her breath hitched on the beginning of a sob, she asked, “Please, just don’t tell your father. Promise?”

“Of course, Byleth,” hummed Flayn, gently combing her fingers through her hair to separate the strands. She could feel the tension winding along Byleth’s neck and shoulders, the kind that came after pain and adrenaline.

Sensing that her professor was beginning to fall asleep, Flayn rose from where she knelt. Walking to her room, she found the old quilt she had taken from the seaside cottage. It was old but well made, by her father’s own hand. Tucking it around Byleth, she murmured, “Sleep well, and let your worries fade. I’m here, I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you, Flayn,” muttered Byleth, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

As Byleth’s breathing softened into sleep, Flayn sat quietly beside her, listening to the muffled hum of music and voices drifting up from the hall below.

Chapter 71: Dimitri - Knight's Hall

Summary:

Dimitri, reeling from Byleth's rejection, finds comfort in the arms of another woman.

Notes:

Content warning: graphic sex scene.

Dimitri’s heart raced as he watched Byleth in the moonlight through the ancient window cut into the stone wall of the Goddess Tower. She was indescribably beautiful with her hair pinned up and face painted. Not to mention how the gown he and Mercedes had made for her from his old cloak hugged her torso, pressing her gorgeous, large breasts to her chest.

How he wished to touch her.

As that singular thought gripped his mind, Byleth’s loving expression rapidly morphed into one of pure terror. She swayed precariously, as though she might topple over at any moment. Dimitri, alarmed, reached out to steady her, afraid she was about to collapse. But instead, she doubled over and unceremoniously vomited up all the wine and refreshments from the ball — right onto his dress shoes.

“Holy shit, what —” he exclaimed in shock before she cut him off with a quick “sorry” before dashing away. Dimitri, still in shock from the alarmingly fast way her demeanor changed, merely stood there, watching the door long since she had left through it. A little voice in the back of his mind urged him to follow her, but he was forestalled by just how terrified she had looked.

“What the fuck was that?” he breathed to himself. What was she so terrified of? he thought, not wanting to verbalize the idea out loud. Me?

Shaking his head, he looked at his feet. The Professor had thoroughly ruined not only his nicest formal shoes, but the hem of his dress trousers as well. Swallowing his own feeling of being sick, Dimitri trudged out of the Goddess tower and towards the well he knew was just outside. Despite the cool night air, the Prince dropped the bucket into the well. After hearing the splash, he waited a moment before cranking the line to bring the bucket back up. Even though the water was freezing, he splashed it against his ankles and feet, determined to wash the puke away. Much to his chagrin, the frigid water trickled inside his shoes as well, soaking his woolen dress socks.

“Goddess dammit,” he muttered, shaking his feet furiously. Frustration welled up so intensely that he could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “This night just keeps getting better and better,” he added bitterly.

Shame and embarrassment filling his chest, he turned back to the bridge that led to the gaily lit Reception Hall. He could still hear music from the ball, though this was just for ambiance. The dancing would be done by now and people would be leaving for their homes.

Determined not to return to his dorm room, mostly because it was too far and he was absolutely freezing now, he marched past the main building and headed towards the Knight’s Hall. As he entered, he searched the unlit room for any knights. Thankfully, they all appeared to be out, either on assignment or at the ball. The knights all had their own apartments to return to, so Dimitri was sure he’d be safe in his solitude here, at least for the moment.

Dropping his carefully constructed kingly facade, he roared in frustration as he ripped the cape from his shoulders. He threw the cape as hard as he could, ignoring the scraping sound the metal clasps made as they hit the stone floor. Sobbing, he kicked his soaking shoes off before pulling his equally soaking socks from his feet. Still freezing cold due to the bottom of his trousers also having been doused with the frigid well water, Dimitri ripped those off as well.

Standing in only his small clothes and dress jacket, Dimitri searched the room for flint to light the fireplace. “Where is that stupid flint!” he raged, pulling open every drawer or cupboard he could find. His elevated emotions accidentally caused his crest to activate, causing him to pull a cupboard off of its hinges. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, throwing the cupboard door across the room.

As he reached for another cupboard door, he heard a distinct, “Hey!” from behind him. Whirling around, Dimitri saw the silhouette of a woman standing just inside the Knight’s Hall front door frame. Closing the door, she lit the small lantern near the entrance, revealing herself. Catherine stood across from him, a wry smile on her face. She was only wearing a simple tunic and hose, not her customary breastplate and pauldrons.

“Your Highness,” she said, admiring him. Her eyes slowly looked up and down his naked legs, a smile playing on her lips. Smoothly, she walked over to him and opened the cupboard he had been reaching for. “Looking for something?”

“The flint,” began Dimitri, too incensed to be polite, “I want to light the fireplace.”

Catherine barked a laugh, which definitely did not help Dimitri’s temper at the moment. “Well, Your Highness, this is the wrong place for that. I’d suggest trying the table near the fireplace, but we can just use my lantern.” Pulling a long taper from a drawer Dimitri had not tried yet, Catherine touched its wick to her lantern. Gently, more than Dimitri would usually ascribe to her, she brought the flame to the main fireplace. While she worked to get the fireplace to full flame, Dimitri stood beside her, soaking up what warmth he could. Once the flames were at full strength, Dimitri sunk into the couch next to the fireplace with a groan. He was too tired and too cold to be worried about any propriety at Catherine seeing him in his small clothes.

“Bad night?” purred Catherine, her deep, sultry, feminine voice enticing. The timbre of her voice caused Dimitri’s heart to beat faster, against his better judgment. Walking over to a cabinet near the bookshelf, she pulled a bottle of whiskey and two small crystal glasses from within. Sitting down next to him, her leg pressed to his. Dimitri’s naked skin tingled where the soft hose wrapping her leg touched him. “Come, have a drink with me, tell me all about it.”

"Catherine," Dimitri hummed, his eyes fixed on her. "I'm not in the mood for games." He had known this woman since their youth; she had always been headstrong and willful. Her time as a fugitive of Faerghus had only amplified those traits.

“What are you in the mood for, Your Highness?” she teased, pouring the whiskey into the two glasses. “Destroying my Hall?”

“I apologize for that,” grumbled Dimitri, taking the bottle from her hand. She smirked as he brought the bottle straight to his lips. Swallowing deep, he relished the burn that slid down this throat into his belly.

“Hey!” said the older woman, yanking the bottle away from him. “Not so fast! That’s good stuff, you’re supposed to sip it.”

“Hmm,” he grumbled, wanting to take the whiskey back. He felt awful and just wanted to be drunk. Instead he watched as she poured it demurely into the second glass. “Why are you here, Catherine?” he asked as she handed him the drink.

“I heard sound coming from the Knight’s Hall, found it strange, and came to investigate,” she shrugged, leaning back into the couch with her own glass. Taking a sip, she placed a hand on his naked leg. Dimitri flinched, his heart racing in his chest. “I can tell you I did not expect to find you hear sans trousers,” she chortled.

“Um,” he mumbled, watching her hand on his leg. Sipping some more of the whiskey, he answered, “I was cold. It’s the first place I thought of with a fireplace.”

“I could help you warm up,” she purred. Dimitri could feel blood rush to his member as her fingers slid up his leg and under his small clothes. Leaning into him, she whispered seductively into his ear, “Would you like that, Your Highness?”

Dimitri felt the air rush out of his lungs as he considered the moment. He was sitting in a dark room, alone with a beautiful woman who had her hand inside his small clothes. He was cold, as Catherine had surmised. He was also inexperienced, never having been with a woman before. Of course he knew how the mechanics worked, but he had never done the deed himself. Did he want to do it now, with Catherine? She wanted him, didn’t she? And she was amazingly attractive, with her fit figure and sultry, mature voice.

Instead of answering her with words, Dimitri turned and pressed his lips to hers. Catherine hummed deeply with pleasure has he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into him. He scarcely noticed as her errant hand found its way further inside his loose small clothes and wrapped around his erection. Grunting at the new sensation, Dimitri pressed his back into the couch.

“I thought you liked women,” he murmured haltingly. He was remiss to have said that when her hand left his hardness, leaving it cold with the loss of the warmth of her hand.

“I like men too,” she purred, kneeling down in front of him. He shivered as she pulled his small clothes down his hips. She gave a slight, pleasant gasp as his hard manhood bounced out of its trappings. “And my oh my, Your Highness,” she proclaimed, “What a man you have become.”

“Don’t call me that,” he grunted.

“Then what should I call you,” she murmured, gently grasping his hard member once again. He drew in a breath sharply as he felt her fondle him.

“My name,” he grunted, trying desperately to hold himself back as she touched him. “Just call me by my name.”

“As you wish, Dimitri,” she breathed, taking his shaft into her mouth. Stars sparked behind his eyelids as he felt her tongue on him, her lips gently sucking. He had never had his manhood inside a woman’s mouth before and the experience was electrifying.

Grabbing her hair, he felt himself begin to move his hips. Allowing him to thrust against her throat, Catherine grabbed his buttocks and squeezed. The sensation was too much and he let go, spilling his seed down inside her mouth.

Mortified, he just sat there as she grunted, taking his expulsion with experienced ease. “I’m sorry —”

“No, don’t be,” she cooed, wiping her mouth. Standing she pulled her tunic from her body, letting her breasts fall free. As she pulled her boots and hose from her body, she ordered, “Take off your top, I want to see those glorious muscles.”

Not sure of what to say, he followed the woman’s orders, finding he liked her commanding him. He was rewarded with her languid gaze sliding down his exposed body. As he sat, he watched her slowly approach him, the light of the fireplace flickering against the slickness against her legs. Seeing her wet with desire for him made his manhood throb.

“Touch yourself,” she commanded, standing over him. He obeyed, grasping his shaft in his hand, already half way hard. Dimitri found that gazing on Catherine’s nude body and lust filled gaze made it a thousand times easier to bring himself to full tilt.

Watching him, she smiled. “Good boy,” she purred, her voice deep and sensuous. He wanted to admonish her, to tell her he was no boy, but he was too enthralled by her beauty. As she climbed atop him, maintaining eye contact, she asked, “Tell me what you want, Dimitri.”

Continuing to pump his shaft to full hardness, he replied, “To fuck you so hard you scream.” He grinned as her lips parted in desire at his reply.

“As you wish, my King,” she said, lowering herself down onto him. Catherine was not gentle, as she slid her tight sheath around him, moving down onto him in one smooth motion. He exhaled in pure pleasure as her female muscles wrapped tightly around him.

“Make sure you tell me when you’re about to cum,” she breathed, keeping eye contact with him. “I want to drink your seed again.”

“As you wish,” he breathed, his lips crashing against hers. The taste of his own expulsion on her tongue only caused him unexpected pleasure. Holding her fast, exploring her mouth with his tongue, he rutted his hips up into her. He relished how her breasts bounced against his chest. An errant thought betrayed him in that moment: Byleth’s breasts are bigger …

Wishing to rid his mind of that thought, he picked Catherine up, still inside her. Twisting around, he dropped down on top of her against the couch. Pushing her legs wide he thrust even deeper, savoring her cries of ecstasy with every movement.

Before too long, he could feel himself about to climax. Despite wishing he could continue fucking her, to dominate this powerful warrior woman, he pulled himself from her with a small whine. As soon as he was free, she was on him, taking his manhood into her mouth. Unlike the first time, he could feel her greedily swallowing as he exploded his seed down her throat.

Covered in sweat from their love making, he collapsed beside her on he couch. In a moment of uncharacteristic softness, Catherine laid her head against his chest. His heart beating heavily in his chest, he placed a hand gingerly on her head. As Dimitri ran his fingers through Catherine’s short hair, his mind wandered to thoughts of his Professor and his blood ran cold.

What had he just done? He had just gone from meeting with the woman he had been trying to woo for the better part of the year, to fucking his childhood friend in the same night. What was wrong with him? Was Seteth right to be wary of him?

“That was wonderful,” hummed Catherine. “We should do this more often. Maybe Shamir could join in when she gets back.”

Ignoring her second comment, Dimitri only stated, “As long as you don’t ask me to make you Queen.”

Catherine snorted and slapped his chest. Startled by the sting of the slap, Dimitri calmed at her reply. “Don’t you worry about that, Your Highness. I have no interest in ever being a noble again, let alone a queen.” Pushing herself up, she gazed into his eyes, her face covered in deep shadow with the fireplace behind her. “I wouldn’t mind fucking a king with a body made for sin though.”

“As you wish,” Dimitri stated, kissing her deeply. He felt himself grow hard as Catherine climbed full atop him once more.

“Ready for round three?” she asked, biting his lip.

“Do you even need to ask?” he said, rolling her over once more. Dimitri tried to drive thoughts of a blue haired woman wearing a blue gown he had helped construct just for her as he pressed his naked body against Catherine. She was female, she was beautiful, and she wanted him. The notion brought his erection to full tilt once again, his desire for a different woman falling to the back of his mind.

Notes:

I know, I know. The first sex scene isn't one of our main pairings from the love triangle. But it just works too well for Dimitri's character development!

Chapter 72: Seteth - Apartments

Summary:

Seteth takes care of Byleth after her injuries during the Ethereal Moon Ball. Jeralt and Seteth have a private discussion.

Despite initially meaning to sleep, Seteth found himself awake hours after retiring to bed, staring at the ceiling. The woman he had come to care deeply for was laying, injured, on his front couch. He wished he was brave enough to go pick her up and bring her to his bed, to lay with her and hold her close. But he knew that it was much too early in their courtship to do such a thing, and so he laid in his bed alone.

After what he could only guess was his third hour of staring at the ceiling, Seteth stood. If he couldn’t get any sleep, there was no point in wasting his bed. Walking gently, so as to not make a sound, he left his room for the main living room of his and Flayn’s apartment. He grinned contentedly when he heard Byleth’s gentle snore coming from the couch.

With his Nabatean eyesight, and the light of the full moon, he could see Byleth clearly. She was laying serenely on her back, her arm hanging off of the couch. He could see the bruise on her face, but Flayn and Manuela’s healing had done much to reduce the swelling.

Seteth could feel himself blush at the sight of her unbound breasts under her loose chemise. Byleth was well endowed and she had nearly popped out of her sleeveless underdress as she had moved in her sleep on the small couch. Oh, how he wished to caress those breasts, to feel their softness beneath his palms.

Shaking the notion from his mind, Seteth approached her. Kneeling down next to her, he gently brushed the hair from her face, careful not to touch her injury. “Byleth,” he whispered, guaging her level of consciousness. The girl didn’t even reply to his gesture or his words, so deep in sleep she was. “I’m going to move you to my bed, the couch is too small,” he told her, even though he doubted she heard him.

As gently as he could, Seteth slid his arms beneath her shoulders and her upper thighs. Careful to keep the quilt on her, he stood slowly. His heart melted when she turned to him in her sleep, nuzzling into his chest. “My sweet one,” he hummed, turning from the couch.

Walking back to his room, Seteth deposited her on his bed. Striving to make her as comfortable as possible, Seteth softly pulled her hair from behind her back. Taking the old quilt, he pulled it up around her shoulders and tucked in around her. Bending down, Seteth kissed Byleth’s hair. “Sleep well,” he murmured, before leaving the room.

Knowing that she was in a safer and more comfortable place, Seteth’s mind allowed him to rest. Laying his tall bulk against his much too small couch, he could feel himself begin to drift off. Before sleep had fully claimed him, he felt a familiar feminine voice whisper to him: “Rest now my child. Your beloved is safe.”

***

The morning light filtered in through the frost covered windows in his apartment, falling across Seteth’s eyes, causing him to stir. With a groan, he rolled over, the ache in his back a sharp reminder that the couch had proven itself a poor substitute for his bed. He blinked against the brightness, disoriented for a moment, until the sound of soft footsteps reached his ears.

Flayn’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. “Father! What are you doing out here?”

He squinted up at her, still half tangled in his quilt on the floor, limbs stiff and uncooperative. Her expression was a mix of concern and exasperation. Seteth sat up slowly, wincing as his joints protested.

“I put her in my bed,” he muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “As you can see, this couch is too small for me to sleep on.”

His daughter stepped further into the room, her arms crossed. He braced himself as Flayn’s voice took on a maternal tone. “Oh Goddess, how did you think that was going to go? Do you even have your day clothes out here?

“And what about the Professor?” she continued, her eyes narrowing. “How do you think she’s going to feel waking up in your room? Without you there, I might add.”

 

Seteth raised an eyebrow, his voice dry. “Would you rather I be in there with her, daughter?”

Her face flushed instantly. He allowed himself a rare smirk. Perhaps they had embraced their “brother and sister” act more than intended. Or perhaps this was just how one behaved with an adult child.

“Ugh, that’s not what I meant!” she huffed, clearly flustered. “Though, it is nice to see you cracking a joke now and again.” She turned and padded toward his room, her slippers whispering against the stone. “I’ll get your day clothes and you can dress out here. I need to check on her healing, anyway.”

He watched her go, grateful; not just for the clothes, but for her presence. She returned a little over fifteen minutes later with his usual attire: the navy doublet, crisp undershirt, and white trousers. She handed them over without a word and slipped past him into her own bedroom to dress herself.

Seteth dressed quickly, then moved to the small stove to warm some bread. The scent helped clear the last of the fog from his mind. He listened for Flayn’s return, the quiet of the apartment settling around him like a familiar cloak.

She reappeared a few minutes later, fully dressed. Perching on a stool with her feet tucked beneath her, Flayn said softly, “She’s doing a lot better this morning. I worked on her concussion a little more. She should be right as rain by the end of the day. Her bruising has lessened a lot too.”

Seteth nodded, relief blooming quietly in his chest.

“She needs to sleep a bit longer,” Flayn added, studying him. “Are you okay with her staying in your bedroom?”

He snorted. “Of course. I put her there, didn’t I?”

Crossing the room, he kissed her forehead, just like he had when she was small. “Please, continue working on healing Byleth. I’ll be in my office. Come get me if either of you need anything.”

Her smile was answer enough. He lingered a moment, watching her settle into the morning, before turning toward his study. There was work to be done, but for now, the quiet was welcome.

***

For the next few hours Seteth worked on paperwork in his office. While it was a free day for those in the Officer’s Academy, mostly so they could recover from the ball the previous night, Seteth wanted to catch up on various letters from the nobility. Much of Garreg Mach and the Church of Seiros ran on the donations from noble families, and like House Arundel, other houses were lax on their monthly tribute. Seteth was concerned that most of these families were from the Empire.

Absorbed in puzzling out this conundrum, Seteth hadn’t noticed when Captain Jeralt entered his office. With a start he saw the burly man walk up to his desk. “Sorry,” grumbled the man with dirty blond hair, “I knocked a few times but you didn’t reply, so I let myself in.”

“Of course,” said Seteth, rising to his feet. Shaking the Captain’s hand, he asked, “To what do I owe this pleasure? I don’t usually see you in my office.”

“This is regarding my daughter,” said Jeralt without preamble. “I wanted to ask you what your intentions with her were.”

“Oh,” commented Seteth, not expecting this conversation. Though, he realized, he probably should have been, after what happened last night. “Please, Captain,” said Seteth, gesturing towards the couches at the front of his office. “Have a seat.”

“No, thank you,” said Jeralt, not unkindly, “I prefer to stand. I have to sit so much doing all of the paperwork of being Captain and my old bones start to ache if I sit too long.” Crossing his arms, he asked again, “Anyways, what are your intentions, Lord Seteth?”

“To court her,” Seteth replied simply. Jeralt was a man of few words, and Seteth wished to speak to him on his level. He respected the man deeply and wished to put him at ease. “I respect your daughter greatly and have come to care for her as well.”

“I see,” said Jeralt pensively. Walking around Seteth’s desk, Jeralt looked out the window. “In that case, I feel you should know something about Byleth, about something she saw years ago.” Heaving a sigh, Jeralt kept his eyes on the landscape beyond Seteth’s office window. Seteth was concerned about how serious the Captain’s tone had become.

“About five years ago, my group took on a rescue job. Usually this kind of job would be pretty simple, bring the ransom to the rendezvous, save the noble kid, kill the kidnappers afterwards. But this time, the girl, barely a teenager, as taken by … evil men. Worse than usual.” Seteth’s heart constricted as Jeralt continued his story, knowing where it was going.

“We found a whole house of them, girls I mean. And the men who had … violated them. While I and the fighters killed them all, Byleth was amongst the healers. Some of the girls were so badly mangled that ….” Jeralt was unable to finish his thought.

“And Byleth saw all this,” breathed Seteth. He felt tears of anger coming to his eyes, both for the kidnapped girls and for Byleth. “How old was she?”

“Fifteen or sixteen, I think,” whispered Jeralt, “I never kept good records of her age, I was so afraid Rhea would find her.”

At mention of the Archbishop’s name, Seteth felt fear grip his chest and ice water fill his veins. “Why were you afraid of Rhea?”

“That’s not important,” said Jeralt, waving his hand to metaphorically brush away the comment. Turning back to Seteth, the Captain continued, “What is important is you know how Byleth feels about men. She isn’t afraid of them, perse, she has spent enough time with my mercs and now her students that she’s pretty comfortable around them.

“But she has never shown any interest outside of being their friend or comrade. Until you.” Jeralt looked Seteth in the eyes, his look inscrutable. Seteth knew that look: it was the look of a father surveying whether the person in front of him was safe with his daughter. Seteth had given many people that look when considering Flayn’s safety.

Walking forward, Jeralt stopped within arms reach of Seteth. “You must promise me, from one father to another, that you will let her come to you. No matter how long that takes. That you will always be gentle, and never hurt her.”

“I promise, Captain,” stated Seteth, bringing his hand to his heart. He was rewarded with a clap on his shoulder and a minute grin from Jeralt.

“If you were anyone else, I would be concerned with how much older you were, but,” Jeralt shrugged, removing his hand, “I have a feeling you’re like me.”

“Like you?” asked Seteth perplexed.

“I don’t look it,” grunted Jeralt, “But I’m over 300 years old. Rhea gave me her blood to heal me once, long ago, and, well, I just don’t seem to age right.” Giving Seteth an appraising look, he asked, “Did she do the same for you?”

“Ah,” began Seteth, “I see. Yes, something like that.” That was as much as he was willing to admit. He was, however, disconcerted upon learning that Rhea had shared her blood with a mortal. How many others had she shared her blood with in the years he was hidden way in Rhodos?

Wishing to turn the conversation away from Rhea, Seteth asked, “I suppose, since I wish to court Byleth in the traditional way, I should ask for your permission?”

Jeralt snorted. “You’re not courting me. But yes, as her father, you have my permission.”

“Captain!” said a hard, feminine voice from Seteth’s doorway. The two men turned to find Shamir stepping inside, holding a missive. “There’s word from one of our spies. There is activity near an old chapel to the east. It looks like that’s where the lost students could have been taken.”

“We should mount up immediately,” stated Jeralt, striding towards the spymaster. “Lord Seteth,” he said, “Please, go fetch Byleth and Flayn, we will need them for this mission. It will be up to her if she wants to bring any of her Blue Lions.”

“Yes, Captain,” Seteth agreed, trailing the Captain and the Spymaster out of his office. Though uncertainty lingered about whether Byleth was truly prepared for the mission, he resolved to trust her judgment. It was one of the qualities that had drawn him to the reticent and enigmatic young woman: her unwavering resolve and strength of character. Lost in thoughts of the future and the conversation with the Captain, Seteth bounded up the stairs toward his apartment.

Chapter 73: Dimitri - Knight's Hall

Summary:

Dimitri considers the repercussions from his night with Catherine.

Notes:

OMG, thank you guys so much for 3500 hits! Especially since this is about a game that's over six years old now! Stay tuned, I promised I would complete this fic, no matter how long it gets, and I mean it!

Content warning: graphic depictions of sex.

Dimitri woke with a start when the faintest of blue light fell on his eyes. He was having a wonderful dream of making love to a beautiful blonde woman, who then morphed into one with blue hair. Their faces weren’t visible in the dream, or if they had been, Dimitri had forgotten them already. When he heard a feminine mumble against his chest he realized it wasn’t entirely a dream after all.

Blinking his eyes in the dawn light, Dimitri shivered, finding himself laying naked on the couch in the Knight’s Hall. On top of him laid an equally naked Catherine. The fire in the fireplace had burnt itself out while they slept.

“Oh Goddess,” he said with a start, sitting up abruptly. The movement was enough to wake Catherine as well. “What time is it?”

“What does it matter,” said Catherine with a yawn. Moving herself off of him, she sat up on the couch. He watched as she stretched her perfect, nude body, much more visible in the dawn light than the firelight the night before. Despite his misgivings about the whole situation, and his worry at someone entering the room, Dimitri could still feel himself grow hard with desire while watching her.

Seeing his growing erection, Catherine smiled peevishly. “Good morning to you too.” Bending down, she murmured, “This is why I love young guys, you get hard so easy,” before taking his member into her mouth, causing Dimitri to shudder.

“C-catherine!” exclaimed Dimitri, scandalized. “What if someone sees us! It’s morning!”

Removing her mouth from him with an altogether too enticing “pop” sound, Catherine said nonchalantly, “Not quite. I guess it’s about five o-clock, based on the light.” She stroked him with her hand as she continued, “We’ve got at least an hour before the Dining Hall opens for breakfast, no one is going to out before that.”

“Uh …” was all he could say before the sensation of her hand on him became too overwhelming.

“Besides,” she said, giving him a wry smile, “I don’t know when the next time I’m going to fuck you is, I’m out on assignment so much. Might as well take the opportunity when I can.” Gripping his hard erection in her hand, she moved to position her naked pelvis over top. Without any more preamble or foreplay, she slid herself down onto him.

Dimitri gasped with surprise at the feeling, much different than the night before. Catherine was not particularly wet yet, making her sheath feel tighter than it had previously. The young Prince wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the sensation, especially if she were the one on top of him. It was all too much, and he felt as though he was about to explode from the pressure before he could enjoy the actual act itself.

Determined to take control of both the woman and the situation, Dimitri grabbed Catherine by the hips. Focused on his lust, Dimitri held Catherine in place as he thrust up into her. Feeling the intense pace he was setting, Catherine just let him fuck her while she pleasured herself with her fingers. Part of Dimitri paled at her loud cries of pleasure erupted throughout the room.

“Fuck, yes, Dimitri! Yes, right there! Fuck me! Fuck me so hard!”

Oh Goddess, what if someone hears us?

That thought immediately left his head as he felt her inner walls constrict around him. Without meaning to, he let go in that moment, pumping his seed inside of Catherine. He nearly shouted his cry of ecstasy as his own orgasm washed over him. Soon thereafter his ecstasy was filled with dread when he realized what he had done.

“Oh Goddess,” he panted as Catherine climbed off of him. “I came in you, I’m so sorry!”

Catherine merely shrugged, searching for a washcloth along the cabinets on the wall. Cleaning the ejaculate that had seeped out of her, she said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m a big girl. I’m not going to have any royal bastards.

“Here,” she added, throwing him the cloth. “Clean yourself up.”

“Of course,” he said, doing just that with the clean side of the cloth. He did his best to ignore her dressing herself to look for his own clothes. Despite his trousers, socks, and shoes laying on the floor near the fireplace for the last several hours, they were still soggy.

Swallowing the feeling of disgust at remembering why they were wet, Dimitri slipped them all on. If he were fast enough he could get back to his room before anyone noticed.

Catherine took even less time than he did to get dressed. On her way out of the hall, she pulled him in for a deep and passionate kiss. Dimitri let himself fall into her, enjoying the warm if somewhat confusing moment. Pulling away from him, she said in a whisper, “Next time, we’re going to my room.”

“Uh, sure,” he agreed, not sure what else to say. Dimitri was completely over his head, still unsure of what to make of Catherine. Though, the thought of being with her again in the future did make his heart beat faster.

Moving close to him again for what he assumed was another kiss, Dimitri felt the heat of embarrassment fill his cheeks when she instead brought her lips to his ear. “You smell like sex,” she hummed, causing him to stand starkly still. “Better go wash up.” Before he could reply, Catherine was out the door, only giving him a small wave as a final goodbye.

“Goddess be damned,” he breathed, watching her for a moment. Shaking himself, Dimitri ventured to do as he was told, considering with much chagrin that he had let Catherine order him around throughout their entire encounter. He decided that he liked it, being ordered around during sex. He was always the one in charge, he had to be as the Crown Prince. At least in this it felt good to let go of the reins a bit.

***

Upon reaching his room, Dimitri stripped his dirty and wet clothing from his body as quickly as he could. Finding his day clothes, he wrapped his waist hastily in a towel and ventured to the baths. Thankfully he found no one there at this hour, for he was worried he would have to explain where he had been for the last several hours.

In the baths Dimitri scrubbed himself clean. He made sure to take extra care with his genitals, worried that after the night he had they may be particularly odorous. He had not noticed before, but his manhood was slightly tender, which he found strange. Catherine had not been rough with him, had she? Though, he had used it more than ever before, having had sex with Catherine three times and ejaculating four in the last twelve hours.

Content with his cleanliness, he dressed himself in the baths themselves, as many students did. The air was cold on his wet hair when he emerged. He wished he could go back to his room to sleep for the rest of the morning, but it was too close to morning, and Dimitri had a reputation to uphold. Steeling himself for the exhaustion of the day, Dimitri marched himself to the Dining Hall for a particularly early breakfast.

Chapter 74: Byleth - Apartments

Summary:

Byleth wakes up in Seteths' bed once again.

“My my,” spoke the mocking yet comforting voice of her Goddess, “It appears you’ve found yourself in his bed once again.”

Byleth blinked her eyes open slowly, her head throbbing. Her right eye felt particularly slow to open, but open it did. The room around her was both familiar and not. She recognized the scent: all around her was the masculine musk of Seteth, a scent she had come to recognize with safety and affection.

“Where am I?” she grunted, rolling onto her back. Just that movement made her feel dizzy.

“That lovely man was so worried about your comfort that he couldn’t sleep. So instead he put you in his bed so you could rest.” Sothis was floating against the ceiling above her, looking down on her. Smiling at her, she added, “I like him, can we keep him?”

Byleth allowed a muted laugh to leave her lips. “He’s not a dog, we can’t just keep him as a pet.”

“Professor?” came a soft feminine voice from the door at the end of the bed. “Are you awake?”

Recognizing Flayn’s voice, Byleth called out, “Yes Flayn. I’m still a bit dizzy though.”

Stepping through the door, Flayn ordered, “Stay laying down and let me take another look at your head. You took quite the spill last night.” Walking over to her Professor, Flayn rested her fingertips around her skull. As she felt around, Flayn pumped white magic gently into Byleth’s scalp. The feeling was wonderful, allowing the persistent ache Byleth had not yet consciously realized was there to subside. She moaned in relief, letting herself sink into her paramour’s pillows.

“It seems your concussion is healing, but slowly. Manuela and I put most of our effort into healing your occipital lobe and nose.” Stepping back, Flayn held out her hand. Grabbing the young woman’s hand, Byleth let her pull her to her feet.

With dismay Byleth noticed she was still wearing the chemise from the night before. While it was not translucent, it was loose and flowy and draped scandalously against her breasts and hips. Thankfully, Flayn made no note or mention of it as she helped her Professor stand. Byleth was, however, more concerned that the girl’s father must have seen her as such when he had carried her to his bed the night before.

“How are you feeling?” Flayn asked, surveying her. She kept her hand on Byleth’s to help keep her upright if needed. “Still dizzy?”

Shaking her head, Byleth said, “No, just a headache now. You really are an amazing healer Flayn.”

“As I’ve been told,” said the girl brightly. “Come on, let’s see how well you walk.” Holding her by the hand, Flayn led her out into the main living space. Both Byleth and her healer were pleasantly surprised by how sure on her feet she was. “How are you feeling now? Still no dizziness?”

“Nope,” replied Byleth, letting go of Flayn’s hand. Gingerly, she traced the lines of her right cheek with her fingers. Much like her head she felt an ache, but otherwise no major pain. “Wow, my eye doesn’t hurt either.”

“You can thank Manuela for that,” commented Flayn, moving over to the little kitchen in the corner of the apartment. As she began to prepare a small breakfast of buttered bread, she said, “She was quick to work on your eye as I was working on your nose; it was leaking blood something fierce.”

Byleth was thankful that even now, alone as they were, Flayn didn’t say anything about their secret conversation the night before. About exactly why Byleth had been running so fast. And from who.

Before Byleth could say anything further, Seteth opened the front door to the apartment roughly, startling both girls. “Oh, thank the Goddess,” he exclaimed, approaching Byleth. Gathering her up into a hug, he said, “I’m so glad to see you on your feet, sweet one.”

Pulling away from her, he said with urgency, “Shamir just arrived with reports of the missing students along with demonic beasts near an old chapel. Your father is already mounting up his squad. Rhea and I wish for you and the Blue Lions to accompany them as you have first hand experience with the kind of corruption they may be under from Remire.”

Holding her gently with both hands against her neck, Seteth looked into her eyes. She remarked how lovely his deep, green eyes looked, awash as they were in the morning light. “Do you think you can ride with them?”

“Yes,” nodded Byleth, sure of her abilities. Looking to her paramour’s daughter, she added, “Flayn did an amazing job of healing me, I only feel a headache now.” Returning her gaze to Seteth, she added sheepishly, “I guess I have you to thank as well. For getting me to her so fast.”

“Always,” Seteth breathed, bending down to kiss her. Remembering that Flayn was in the room, Byleth allowed him to keep the kiss short, but no less full of promise. Pressing his brow gently to hers, she felt the cool touch of the gold circlet he wore in public. “You must tell me why you were in such a hurry.”

Sensing Flayn’s knowing gaze on her, Byleth murmured, “Later,” before pulling away from Seteth. “For now, it seems I have a mission to complete.”

Looking from Byleth to his daughter, Seteth asked, “Promise me, that you two will take care of each other out there.”

“Of course, Father,” nodded Flayn.

Byleth was somewhat taken aback that the girl had not seemed embarrassed by the embrace between her professor and her father. Most teens would be blushing furiously upon seeing their parent, or parents, for being so public with their amorous display. But Flayn merely seemed to be happy that her father was happy. This was not the first time Byleth had seen the girl act more mature than she looked.

“Come, Professor,” said Flayn, holding out her hand. “I’ll give you one of my coats to cover yourself while we walk to your quarters.” Nodding to her father, she said, “Thank you for telling us, Father. Let the Knights, or any of my classmates if you see them, know we will be joining Jeralt on this mission shortly.”

“Yes, Daughter,” agreed Seteth with a small bow. Before leaving the apartment, no doubt to return to his office, he told them to, “Be safe.” Byleth sighed as he closed the door behind him.

“Well, Professor,” said Flayn, her crisp voice shaking her out of her reverie, “Let’s get going.”

Thankful that the healer was there to help her through her morning after the disastrous night before, Byleth simply said, “Lead the way.”

Chapter 75: Dimitri - Entrance Gates

Summary:

Dimitri has a rough morning as he prepares to leave for Remire.

When Dimitri had been given the order to mount up and ride out he groaned audibly, dropping his head to the dining hall table. To add insult to injury, the always chipper Sylvain clapped him on the back, asking, “What’s wrong, your Highness? Long night?”

“Like you’re one to talk,” grumbled Dimitri, keeping his head down for as long as he could. He thought he could stay up after having awoken on the couch of the Knight’s hall, naked with Catherine, hours earlier. He found that he was much more tired, and sore, than he had first anticipated. He hadn’t even had that much to drink, but the whiskey he had consumed, along with his lack of sleep, added to his pounding headache.

“Well, I managed to make it back to my bed on time last night, didn’t I Felix?” asked Sylvain, looking back to their friend. The young swordsman was taking his own tray of food to the front of the dining hall, already ready to go with his riding clothes and sword belt strapped to his body. Whether Felix knew something he didn’t, or he was already on planning on riding that day, Dimitri wasn’t sure. Felix was the last person on his mind this morning.

“I do my best to ignore you when you come back to your room,” grumbled Felix, coming back to their table. “I do not wish to hear what happens in your room when you’re there.”

“Yes, well,” coughed Sylvain, standing straight. “I’ll have you know I was a good little boy and went to bed on time and everything. Unlike our Prince here.” Placing a hand under Dimitri’s armpit, Sylvain pulled him up from his chair. “Come on your highness, you made the big boy decision to stay out late, and now you have to feel the consequences. We all go through it. Think of it as a right of passage.”

“Will you stop talking,” snapped Dimitri, shoving Sylvain off of him. Dimitri didn’t like the implication of what the older youth was saying. Now that he had lain with a woman, was Dimitri now like Sylvain?

Cringing at the thought, Dimitri was determined to keep his tryst with Catherine a secret. No doubt she would do so as well, being a woman of her position. “Let’s just get going, no doubt the Professor is waiting for us.”

Saying her title made Dimitri’s heart lurch. What had happened with her last night? One moment they were having a lovely conversation that seemed like it might turn into a more romantic encounter, and the next she was puking on his shoes.

Had she eaten something that turned her stomach? Was being alone with him that terrifying for her?

Before he could ask her, she had run off, leaving him to clean up the mess. Right after that he had found himself in the Knight’s Hall, soaking wet after his cleaning attempt. Catherine had found him soon after, literally with his pants down.

Dimitri still wasn’t sure how he should feel about what happened next; how Catherine had all but pounced on him, engaging him in sex for the first time in his life. Had Catherine known he was a virgin before that night? If she did, she didn’t make any mention of it.

Dimitri had definitely wanted, and enjoyed, the sex he had with Catherine, even if his genitals were sore this morning. Even so, he still wasn’t sure if he should feel ashamed or guilty. He had never expected her to do such a thing, no matter how attractive he had found her.

Before their encounter there had also been a few moments between them; times when there was more beneath the surface of their friendly sparring. But when Catherine had kissed Shamir in front of him Dimitri had decided she wasn’t interested in him. Besides, he had been pursuing Byleth. That was who he wanted, wasn’t it?

A flush rose to Dimitri’s face as he recalled how amazing it had felt having a woman as powerful and dangerously beautiful as Catherine kneeling before him. The memory of her pleasuring his manhood with her mouth caused him to begin to grow hard again, an alarming prospect in front of his friends.

Alarmed that they, especially Sylvain, may see the beginnings of a bulge in his trousers, Dimitri rushed in front of them. “Come on,” he grunted, expecting them to follow him as they usually did, “We must gather our horses and meet with the Knights.”

Much to his chagrin, Dimitri’s exertions from the night before made riding in a saddle much more uncomfortable than usual. The Prince was an experienced rider and chevalier, usually opting to ride into battle instead of walk. However, this morning, with his overused sex and tired countenance, Dimitri found himself wishing to walk. Once they arrived at the muster point on the edge of the monastery, Dimitri dismounted his horse, holding his sigh of relief so as not to alert the others of his discomfort.

Seeing Catherine amongst the Knights, Dimitri looked away when she made eye contact with him. Even so, he still saw her smirk and wink at him. Oh Goddess, he thought to himself, I hope Sylvain didn’t see that. Thankfully, it appeared that Sylvain was more interested in their Professor, whom was already astride a horse, Flayn on her own mount at their Professor’s side.

“Goddess Professor!” exclaimed Sylvain, riding his horse next to Byleth’s. “What happened to your face?”

Byleth merely grimaced, looking to Flayn. Dimitri watched the two women quizzically, not initially able to see what Sylvain was talking about. When the Professor turned her head to speak quietly to Flayn, Dimitri gasped at the huge black eye she was sporting. What in the Goddess’s name had happened to the Professor after she left him last night.

“Don’t worry, Sylvain,” said Flayn in her calm and direct healer’s voice. “The Professor took a spill last night, after the ball. She will be fine for this mission, I and Professor Manuela have seen to it.”

“Ah,” commented Sylvain, “That’s good. Where is Professor Manuela? Will she be joining us? I hear there are several missing students still, that’s why we’re going out, isn’t it?”

“She will be staying here,” came Jeralt’s rough voice from Dimitri, causing the boy to jump. “Manuela needs to prepare the infirmary for the incoming patients.” Dimitri knew the other reason Manuela wasn’t joining them, the reason why Jeralt wouldn’t let her, but remained silent. The two were not married and as such it was considered a scandal that they were having a baby together. At least that would be true for most people, noble or otherwise.

“Hey, Dimitri,” came Ashe’s small voice from beside him. “Are you feeling okay? You’re kind of jumpy.” He was walking beside his own mount, holding the reins. Ingrid and Annette were with him, Dedue and Mercedes in the rear to complete the full Blue Lions roster.

“What!?” exclaimed Dimitri, looking to the archer, somewhat in a daze. “No, I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Okay,” said Ashe, climbing into his saddle. He waited for his Prince to mount his own horse before proceeding forward. Once Dimitri was ready, Ashe noticed how he sat uncomfortably in his saddle. “Are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t take a tumble like the Professor, did you?”

Not exactly, came an errant, cynical thought in Dimitri’s mind. He immediately squashed it, closing his eyes and concentrating on his breathing. “No, I’m fine, please stop pestering me,” said the Prince through gritted teeth. By the Goddess this day was going to be terrible.

Chapter 76: Byleth - Ruined Chapel

Summary:

Byleth witnesses the death of a loved one.

Notes:

Content warning: major character death.

“No!” screamed Byleth as she watched Monica slide a strange black dagger into her father’s back. They had arrived only moments before at the old chapel to find several demonic beasts. Once defeated, they turned back into students, ones that had been missing from Garreg Mach since before the tragedy of Remire. Not all of them survived the ordeal.

One of the students, Monica, had initially been thankful for the Knights saving her and her peers. This apparently was only a ruse, set up to lull them into a false sense of security. She thanked Jeralt for saving her just as she slid the dagger that looked like it was made of darkness between her father’s ribs.

Holding back the sick feeling from her overuse of the Divine Pulse the night before, Byleth rewound time to just before Monica stabbed her father. As she attempted to put herself between the girl and her father, her sword out in front of her, a strange figure stopped her. He was almost as strange looking as Solon, with his white skin and hair. His eyes were the most disconcerting as they bore no pupil or iris: they were just round, white orbs. Could he even see with eyes like those?

Brandishing a sick, twisted grin, the man cast a strange spell, catching Byleth in time. She was rendered helpless as she watched Monica stab her father once again. When she attempted to rewind time again, Byleth was horrified to discover that she could not. “No!” she screamed, or she wished to scream, but found that she was completely incapacitated, held still by the stranger’s magic.

“Not this time, Fell Star,” he said, before warping himself and Monica out of existence.

With his hold on her now gone, Byleth nearly stumbled to her knees. Her head throbbing, bile rising in her throat, she ran to her father. Collapsing to her knees, she lifted her father from the ground. She searched his body with her white magic, trying to find the wound like Manuela had taught her. When she did, nothing she tried would heal it. There was some horrible, dark magic seeping into him from the wound caused by that strange dagger, which Byleth noted had been dropped nearby.

“No, Dad!” she cried, bending over Jeralt. Her father coughed, trying to gasp for breath. Each time he did, blood spurted from his mouth. He had been stabbed in the lung and she could not close the wound.

Weakly, Jeralt raised his hand to Byleth’s cheek. She barely registered as he drew away a tear. Wash she crying? She could cry? Had she ever done that before?

“To think,” he murmured, looking up at her full of love. “My baby girl finally managing to cry over me.” Just as Jeralt looked like he was about to say something else, the light faded from his eyes, and her father slumped lifelessly in her arms.

“NO! DADDY!” she screamed, holding him close. She could feel it now, the tears streaming from her eyes, down her cheeks like waterfalls. “No, don’t go, I need you! I’m not ready for you to leave me! Please, Daddy, stay with me!” In this desperate moment, all of the tears she wished she could cry throughout her entire life, came flowing out of her like a fountain. The tears of a newborn aching for succor; the tears of a little girl who was afraid of the dark; the tears of a teenager who had witnessed horrific acts of evil; they all came out in one, long stream. Byleth did not stop, even when the clouds seemed to cry with her, dumping a torrent of rain upon all present.

Chapter 77

Summary:

Dimitri helps Byleth after Monica reveals her true self.

A high pitched wail screamed out across the field, causing Dimitri to whip his head around to see who had made it. He had never heard that particular scream before, despite having been present for many of his comrades obtaining injuries on the field. No, this was a cry of pure agony and hopelessness, one that Dimitri would not soon forget.

Across the field he saw the telltale navy blue of his Professor’s hair drop to the ground. Terrified that she may have been felled by the enemy, Dimitri turned his steed towards where he last saw Byleth. On the edge of his vision he thought he saw Monica running from the field, but chose to ignore her in his haste to get to his love’s side.

Could he still call her that after what happened the night before? He wasn’t sure, but it was not important in this moment. A woman he cared for dearly was in distress and he would do everything in his power to help her.

Before he arrived, Flayn was already with the Professor. Byleth was crying hysterically, holding the prone, unmoving body of her father. As she screamed “Daddy” over and over again like a lost child, Dimitri couldn’t help but flash back to the death of his own father. Of how, just before his head was severed from his shoulders, King Lambert had shouted to Dimitri to “avenge his death.” The drive to do just that was what kept him going throughout the many years since that horrible day.

The fresh rain helping to shake him from this horrible reverie, Dimitri jumped down from his horse to kneel next to Byleth, Flayn, and Jeralt’s lifeless body. By this point Byleth had begun to rock back and forth, completely lost to her sorrow. Flayn had been powerless to stop her, only able to watch on with an overwhelmed look on her face.

“Byleth,” said Dimitri, placing his hand on her shoulder. As his beloved Professor continued to be unaware of him and his voice, he placed his other hand on her other shoulder, leaning awkwardly over Jeralt. Jerking her roughly, he shouted, “BYLETH!” Finally, that seemed to snap her out of her mania.

“D-dimitri?” she asked, looking up at him. Her eyes were slightly unfocused as she blinked red, tear filled eyes at him. This was the first time she had cried in front of him, he realized.

“Give him to me,” said Dimitri calmly, holding his arms out. “I will help you carry him to the medic wagon.”

“But he’s dead, his heart has stopped beating,” sniffled Byleth, looking back down at her father. “A medic won’t help.”

Placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, Flayn said quietly, “We still need to bring him home so we can bury him.” Wiping the tears from the other girl’s eyes, Flayn said, “Please, Byleth, let Dimitri help. You’ve done all you can for now.”

Nodding solemnly, fresh tears falling down her eyes, Byleth handed her father’s dead body to Dimitri. With the added strength of his Crest, Dimitri was able to lift Jeralt up easily. He had lifted unconscious but not dead bodies before, and while the mechanics were the same, it felt entirely different. While not yet cold, Jeralt did not breathe, did not twitch, did not have any pulse. His soul was gone back to the Goddess now.

As Dimitri stood he noted how Byleth had collapsed into the Administrator’s younger sister, allowing the young mint-haired girl to wrap her arms around her. He could feel his jealousy surge as the girls embraced each other, knowing that if she were close to Flayn she was also close to her brother. Oh how he wished he could be the one to comfort his Professor right now in her place.

Instead, the young Prince swallowed his pride and carried Jeralt’s body to the medical wagon. Placing the man’s body gently on the conveyance, Dimitri wondered if in some way this was his fault. If he hadn’t been so compromised with exhaustion, could be have been more help during the last fight? Could he have seen the assailant that had attacked Jeralt before they had killed the Captain?

Shaking his head, knowing he couldn’t turn back time, Dimitri bit his tongue. He could feel his rage simmering to the surface, but knowing that he had no enemy combatants to release it on, he did his best to shove the feeling down deep. At some point it would come bubbling back up, but that was for future Dimitri to deal with.

Helping Flayn and Byleth into the wagon, Dimitri looked to his Professor. By this point the clouds had begun to release their full torrent, and the young Prince could no longer discern tears from raindrops on his beloved’s face. Dammit, he really should stop thinking of her that way. She had made it clear she didn’t want him like that the night before. And he had taken advantage of Catherine’s invitation, essentially severing any courtship he and Byleth were undertaking, if they could even call it that.

His voice heavy with emotion, he said, “Please, if you need anything, let me know. I am at your service.”

Instead of Byleth, Flayn answered him, “Thank you, Prince Dimitri. You have been most helpful. Professor Eisner and I will ride back with the Captain and the other wounded. If you could ride ahead with the other Blue Lions and Knights to tell my brother of what happened I would be in your debt.”

“Think nothing of it, Lady Flayn,” said Dimitri with a bow. Turning from her, he mounted his horse, his own discomfort paling in comparison to the horrors he had just witnesses. In a loud, clear voice, he called out, “Blue Lions, we travel back to Garreg Mach.” With that, he and his house left the sad, muddy field in front of the abandoned chapel.

Chapter 78: Byleth - Offices

Summary:

Byleth and Manuela read Jeralt's journal.

Notes:

Heyo! I'm going out of town for a couple days so I'm not sure if I'll be able to post on Sunday like I usually do, so I've posted several new chapters these last few days to compensate. Enjoy!

Content warning: descriptions of corpses and medical care.

Byleth wasn’t sure what to expect from Manuela when they arrived with her father’s corpse, but it definitely had not been silence. The woman simply stared as her lover’s body was carried in on the medical wagon to the door of main infirmary on the first floor.

While Byleth had screamed and cried in pain upon seeing Jeralt’s dead body, Manuela had only stared in shock. She only said, “Take him to my private office,” before falling into the routines of emergency medicine. With calm efficiency, Manuela took command of the infirmary, ordering all present to assist in helping those still living.

Many students, tortured and transformed by Solon’s evil magic, had been brought back to Garreg Mach in various states of disrepair. Once the manufactured crest stones had been taken from their bodies the students had transformed back from black beasts to humans, though not without consequence. Most were horribly sickly and pale, as though they had lost a terrible amount of blood.

Once the students were all stable, Manuela asked Byleth to come with her to her office, where Jeralt had been taken. Byleth remained silent as Manuela led her through the cold halls of Garreg Mach, holding her hand the entire time. The older Professor had never done that before. Byleth could feel tears reach her eyes as the woman squeezed her hand in comfort.

Inside Manuela’s office, Jeralt had been laid on one of the secondary infirmary beds. Sometimes more difficult cases would be moved here for privacy, but at the moment they were not in use. Closing and locking the door behind them, Manuela pulled her office chair over to the side of the bed Jeralt was in. Sitting down, she picked up his lifeless arm and held it to her chest. “I loved him, you know. And I think he loved me too.”

“He did,” said Byleth with a hitched voice, sitting on the empty bed across from them. “I could see it in his eyes every time he looked at you.” Byleth could feel yet more tears beginning to form, but she did not fight the sensation, allowing it to flow freely down her cheek.

Pulling a long chain from between her bosom, Manuela showed Byleth the pendant on the end. She quickly realized it was not a pendant but a small, gold ring with a single green gemstone. “He gave me this a few weeks ago, asking me to be his wife. It’s too small for me to wear right now, my fingers are so swollen, so I wear it around my neck. I said yes, but I didn’t want to have the wedding until after I had the baby.”

Finally, the dam broke, and the emotions came flooding out of Manuela all at once. Crying painfully, she bawled, “I was so stupid! I should have made him go with me to find a priest that very moment to wed us. This place is lousy with them!”

“Oh Manuela,” sobbed Byleth, moving around the foot of the bed her father’s body laid on to embrace her. Holding the older woman tight, Byleth stroked her hair, letting Manuela cry into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I tried everything but I couldn’t save him!”

“It’s not your fault!” wailed Manuela, her accustomed dramatics returning after the initial shock of Jeralt’s death. “Hell, he’s your father! I should be comforting you, not the other way around!”

“Yes, but he’s his father too,” said Byleth in a quiet voice, pointing to Manuela’s round belly. “Or, he was. It’s all so sudden.”

“Yes it is,” agreed Manuela. For long moments, the two women just held each other as they wept. They wept for not only the loss of the man, but the loss of his love and the future they both wished to share for him. Not only would he never meet his son, now growing in Manuela’s belly, he would never see him grow to adulthood and become his own person, just as his big sister had.

Their tears finally used up and their eyes dry, they parted. Manuela moved back to her desk and pulled an old leather book from one of the drawers. “This is your father’s journal. He wanted you to have it, if he ever …”

“Thanks,” replied Byleth before Manuela had to say the word they were both thinking.

As she began to open it, Manuela said, “I’ve already read it, he let me. Said it would help me understand him better.” Crossing her arms, she walked over to Byleth. “Did you know he was over three hundred years old?”

Shocked, Byleth nearly dropped the book. “What!? How is that possible?” Manuela’s face was inscrutable as Byleth searched it for answers.

The older woman shrugged, looking over to the apparently ancient man on the bed nearby. “At some point in his youth he had assisted Rhea in some way, but took a mortal wound in doing so. She had used her own blood to heal him, somehow, and in doing so extended his life. Apparently our Rhea is just as old, if not older, than he was.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, she looked down to her belly, then to Byleth. “You are also not his first child. From what I could glean, he has had several, throughout the centuries. He even fathered a child with Lady Rhea, though the babe had died mysteriously.”

Holding herself tightly, Manuela looked to the floor. “I didn’t want to ask him about that, afraid it would bring bad luck to my own pregnancy. I know it’s stupid and superstitious, but I want this baby so badly.” Tears forming once again on her eyes, Manuela looked back up to Byleth. “Leonie survived though, he wrote a great deal about how proud he was of her.”

“Leonie?” asked Byleth, feeling an unexpected hurt growing in her belly. The girl had traveled with them on many occasions, working with their mercenary band. In fact, it had been her father’s recommendation letter that had gotten her into the Officer’s Academy in the first place. “Is Leonie my sister?”

“No,” chuckled Manuela, “From what I understand Jeralt was her great-grandfather. I don’t think even she knows.” Placing a finger to her chin in thought, Manuela puzzled, “If she is Jeralt’s great-granddaughter, that would make her grandmother or grandfather your sister or brother by blood, making you her great-aunt.”

“Should we go retrieve her?” asked Byleth, feeling entirely out of her element. “To mourn my Dad, I mean. They were pretty close.”

“Tomorrow,” said Manuela somberly. “I do want her here for the death ritual. But first, I must tell you of something troubling I read in that journal.” Bending down to Jeralt, she pulled a gold chain similar to her own from around his neck. It was adorned with a familiar silver ring. Gently undoing the clasp, she removed it from the dead body and presented it to Byleth. “Here, he also wished you to have this. Turn around so I can do up the clasp.”

Doing as instructed, Byleth lifted her hair as Manuela wrapped the jewelry around her. “This is your mother’s ring. Jeralt wanted you to have it, to give it to someone you want to spend your life with.”

“Yes,” commented Byleth, handling the delicate ring between her fingers. “He’s shown me this ring before. I didn’t know he had taken to wearing it around his neck.”

“It was my idea,” chuckled Manuela. “When he gave me my ring, I knew it wouldn’t fit my fingers for very long as the baby grew, so I took him out to get us both chains.” Sensing the woman was about to begin crying again, Byleth wrapped her arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Manuela,” said Byleth softly, holding the other woman close. “I’m here, I promise I won’t leave.”

“Thank you, Byleth,” sniffled Manuela, leaning into her. After long moments of just leaning onto each other for both emotional and physical support they separated. “Go on, I would like to be alone with him for a moment. There are some more recent entries in that journal of his that I think you should read.”

“Okay,” muttered Byleth, unsure of what else to say. Leaving Manuela alone in her grief, Byleth walked slowly down the stone hallway. Looking to her father’s door, unwilling to face the emptiness within, she instead chose to walk through Seteth’s door, looking for reassurance and comfort. Despite his door being unlocked, the fastidious administrator was not within. Losing her composure, she held her father’s journal close to her chest and began to cry.

“You need to accept his death as fate,” came a familiar voice only she could hear.

Closing the door behind her so no one would hear her one-sided conversation, Byleth answered through her sobs, “We will make those bastards pay for all that they’ve done.”

“Yes, we should,” agreed the little goddess, manifesting herself before Byleth. Motioning to the couch in the corner of Seteth’s office, Sothis sat with Byleth on the soft cushion. “Your father was full of secrets it seems. You should read the parts Manuela mentioned. Maybe it will contain some answers?” Upon opening the journal, Sothis commented that her father’s handwriting looked pretty, making Byleth respond with a sniffled giggle.

Finding a recent entry, Byleth began to read out loud: “Horse Bow Moon 1159, day 20, all is cloudy. I can’t believe she’s dead. Lady Rhea said she died during childbirth, but is that the truth? The baby she traded her life for doesn’t make a sound, she didn’t even cry at her own birth.”

Didn’t even cry? That must be her he was writing about, wasn’t it? The year seemed correct.

Continuing her recitation, Byleth read aloud: “Day 25 of the Horse Bow Moon. It’s raining. The baby still hasn’t had her first laugh or even a cry. Lady Rhea says not to worry, but a baby that doesn’t cry isn’t natural. I should know, I’ve had enough of my own already. I had a doctor examine the baby in secret. He said the pulse is normal, but there was no heartbeat.”

Upon reading that passage, Byleth placed her hand against her chest. It wasn’t just her own inability to feel her own heartbeat, nobody else could either. She had always assumed it was just her own strange quirk. Perhaps that’s why she always wanted to cling to her father, to hear his heart beat in place of her own?

“Day 2 of the Wyvern Moon,” read Byleth, “Today is sunny. I need to take my baby girl and leave. But the church is always watching. I don’t know what Lady Rhea has planned. Is this what happened to our own baby, so many years ago? But Byleth has survived, while little Matthias did not. I used to think the world of her, but now I’m terrified.”

Fear gripped Byleth’s chest as she read that passage out loud. Centuries ago, she had a baby brother named Matthias that had died. Apparently her father thought his own mother, Lady Rhea, could have done something to cause it. Could Lady Rhea be capable of such a thing?

“Day 8 of the Wyvern Moon. More rain. I used the fire that broke out last night to fake the baby’s death. Lady Rhea is frantic over the news but I can’t change what I’ve done. I’ve got to take Byleth and leave.” There were more pages after that, but Byleth couldn’t bring herself to read them.

“He was writing about you as a baby!? What did he mean, you weren’t natural? And what happened to Matthias? He was Jeralt and Rhea’s baby, was he not? Uh oh!” said Sothis, turning to the door. “Someone’s coming!” The little goddess poofed out of existence as the door opened.

Byleth breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the familiar tall, green haired form walk through. It’s Seteth, of course, thought Byleth at her invisible companion. She felt the goddess calm her emotions as the man bounded over to her to pull her from the couch and into his arms.

Chapter 79: Seteth - Offices

Summary:

Seteth comforts Byleth after her father's passing.

Seteth left his office the moment he heard from a Knight that Captain Jeralt had been slain on the field. His first stop was the infirmary, where he had found Flayn administering to students that had been tortured by Solon’s magic. She told him all about the events of the day, of how the students changed from black beasts, how Jeralt had been stabbed by the strange Monica, and how Byleth had completely broken down when Jeralt had fallen. Flayn’s emotions as she recounted the tale, tears forming in her eyes. Finding the sight of his daughter crying unbearable, Seteth had held her close until she calmed herself, gently stroking her hair all the while.

Once calm, Flayn explained how Manuela had asked for Captain Jeralt’s body to be taken up to her private office. Seteth swore under his breath, knowing he just missed her and Byleth on his trek down to the main infirmary. Thanking his daughter for her retelling of the events of the day, he made his way back to the second floor of the main building.

Finding only Manuela in her office, he took a moment to ask after her and to give his respects to Jeralt as his dead body lay on the bed inside. Asking for Byleth, Manuela explained she had just seen her, so she must have not gone far. First checking Jeralt’s office, he was pleased and relieved to find her within his own. His heart ached knowing she must have searched him out in her grief.

Gathering her up in his arms, Seteth held Byleth close. He was somewhat taken aback when she began to weep openly in his arms, gripping his doublet tight in her hands. He had never heard the woman cry before, and the sound broke his heart.

Still holding her, Seteth sat down on the couch, pulling her onto his lap. Even though Byleth was incredibly strong and even more incredibly skilled as a fighter, she was still tiny in comparison to him. He hummed and shushed her gently as she cried against his chest, wetting both her cheeks and his doublet as she did so.

They sat like that for a long time, long enough for the sky outside the stained glass window of his office to grow dark. In the dim light of dusk, Byleth finally ceased her weeping. Quietly, her voice rough from the crying, she croaked, “He’s gone. He’s gone and I couldn’t save him. I could save everyone else, but not him.”

“I know,” hummed Seteth. Idly he played with the ends of her hair as he held her, letting the tactile sensation of the strands between his fingers ground him in the moment. “We can’t save everyone.” Sighing deeply, both in empathy for her pain but also for the memory of his own loss, he added, “It’s always hardest to lose the ones we love.”

Byleth only responded by pressing herself further into his embrace. Feeling his legs growing numb, Seteth began to shift. “No, please,” she begged, gripping him tightly around his waist. “Please, don’t leave.”

“Shh, sweet one,” hummed Seteth, kissing the top of Byleth’s head. “I’m not going anywhere. My legs are simply getting numb.”

“Oh,” said Byleth, jerking away from him. Her customary literal nature returned as she jumped off of him to stand in front of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Seteth chuckled, rising to his feet as well. Wiggling his knees he felt the customary pins and needles as feeling returned to the rest of his legs. “See, all better.” Holding his hand out to her, he asked, “It is late and you have had a very long, very difficult day. Let me take you back to your rooms.”

“No!” snapped Byleth, much rougher than Seteth had expected. Seeing his alarm, Byleth said more calmly, “No, please, don’t take me back to my father’s rooms. I can’t take it right now.” Leaning into him, Byleth wrapped her arms around Seteth’s waist. “Please, can I just stay with you tonight? I don’t want to be alone, not there. Please.”

His heart both aching at her sadness and fluttering at her proposition, Seteth relented. “Of course, my sweet one.” Pausing to allow Byleth to pick up an old leather book from the table next to the sofa, he held her hand and led her from his office and up the stairs to his apartments.

Within Flayn was already there, but if she were surprised at seeing her Professor, she made no mention of it. His daughter, as practical as ever, merely selected one of her own nightgowns for Byleth and gave her space in her own bedroom to change. Seteth took that moment to change into his own night clothes.

“Thank you, daughter,” said Seteth quietly and sincerely as Flayn gave Byleth a final hug. Byleth was still holding the old leather journal tight to her chest like a child would a stuffed animal.

“Of course, father,” said Flayn sadly, looking to Seteth as she released Byleth from her embrace. Pressing her forehead to Byleth’s in a comforting manner, Flayn told her, “Rest now, Professor. Tomorrow is a new day. I will be here for you should you need me.”

Clearly overwhelmed by the outpouring of love, Byleth could only nod as new tears began to form. In the privacy of his own home, Seteth found he no longer cared to project strength and allowed himself to cry as well. No other words were spoken between the three as Byleth walked across the small living space to Seteth’s room.

Byleth was under the covers of his bed before he even closed the door. In the dim light of twilight he could see she had placed her back against the wall and faced into the bed. She was curled around the leather book he had first seen her with in his office. Climbing into bed next to her, Seteth placed his hand gingerly on her shoulder. They were much to early in their courtship to be sharing a bed, but she needed his comfort in this moment. Besides, she had already slept in his bed two times before, they were already more intimately acquainted than a formal courtship would allow.

Determined to remain as chaste as possible for the rest of the night, Seteth kept himself apart from her as best he could on the small bed. It was not as tiny as the dormitory beds, but he had not had it built with two people in mind. Curious about the book, Seteth asked, “What is it that you’re holding my sweet one?”

“My father’s journal,” she whispered, an emotional hitch in her voice. “There are … disturbing mentions of Rhea inside.”

Hearing the Archbishop’s name caused Seteth’s blood to run cold. Against his better judgment he asked her, “What does it say?”

“A great deal,” answered Byleth vaguely. “My father believed she had done something to me as a baby that made me … unnatural. Something that took away my heartbeat and made me stop crying, or some such.” The emotions returning to her voice, she sobbed, “Centuries ago, my father had another baby, with Rhea, and he was worried she did the same to him, but he didn’t survive.”

“Centuries ago …” breathed Seteth. He dared not voice his other concerns, namely his shock that Rhea had born a child he had not known about. And that said child died as an infant. Nabateans, especially those of demigods like Rhea, may be rare but they were unnaturally healthy. What could have happened to that baby?

Pulling Byleth close to him, Seteth kissed her hair as she continued to sob. Rolling onto his back, he allowed her to move herself on top of him, resting her head against his chest. He noted that she rested her ear right above his heart.

After long moments of laying with her, Seteth sighed in relief as Byleth’s sobs subsided and her breathing slowed. Content that she was asleep, he gently took the journal from her hands and set it down on his bedside table. He would have to ask her if he could read it when they woke.

Kissing her once again on the brow, Seteth settled into his pillows. Relishing feeling of her feminine warmth and softness against his ancient body, he allowed himself to relax. In this moment he could not fathom how he had he gone so long without this primordial comfort. The woman who had awakened his cold, ancient heart safely within his arms, Seteth drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 80: Byleth - Offices

Summary:

Byleth searches out Manuela and Leonie to help prepare Jeralt's body for burial.

Notes:

Content warning: description of a dead body.

Feeling a slight chill, Byleth rolled over in the unfamiliar bed. Well, not entirely unfamiliar, as this was the second morning in a row she had woken up in it. Plus, the scent of the man she had come to care for dearly all around her on the sheets made it terribly comfortable and welcoming. If not for her pounding head and full bladder, she would have stayed in there all day.

Blinking her eyes, the right one still sore from her fall the night before last, Byleth’s heart sank when she realized she was alone. Where had Seteth gone? Why hadn’t he woken her?

Stepping out of the bed, Byleth looked about the room for her father’s journal. Seeing it on the bedside table, she picked it up and held it tight to her chest. There were still so many mysteries within that she needed to uncover, to reveal just who her father really was. She still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea that he was so ancient. Could a person really live that long? How was that possible?

Determined to use the privy, Byleth walked out into the living room. Within she found Flayn fully dressed and sitting at the kitchen table, writing on some paper. It dawned on her that even with the insanity of the last two days, the mundanity of homework was still a reality for her students. Seeing her, Flayn stood quickly to greet her with a bright, “Professor, good morning!”

“Ah, hi Flayn,” mumbled Byleth, looking around the room. “I’ve just gotta use the privy …”

“Oh, of course!” squeaked Flayn, looking to the small door on the other end of the living room. “You go do that and I’ll make tea, sound good?”

Byleth merely nodded before placing her father’s journal on the table and walking to the privy. Doing her morning business as quickly as she could in the relatively alien space, she cleaned up and returned to the main room. Flayn was waiting for her with a piping hot cup of black tea and a muffin.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable in the girl’s own nightdress, Byleth sat across from her at the little table. “Um,” she began, uncertain how to word her next sentence. “So, ah, where’s your …” Goddess she felt awkward in this moment, and she and Seteth had not even been intimate!

“Wouldn’t that have been lovely,” came the lilting and mischievous voice of her passenger. “I can’t believe that man’s restraint! He literally had you in his arms, in his bed, and he did nothing! Oh, but he definitely wanted to! That brute of a Prince would never have been so gentlemanly.”

“Shut up will you!” muttered Byleth under her breath. She blushed heavily when she noted Flayn watching her in confusion.

“So, you don’t want tea then?” asked Flayn, dismay in her voice.

“No, I mean yes, tea is great!” said Byleth a little too quickly, taking the tea from where Flayn had placed it on the table. Without regard for its heat, Byleth took a quick sip. She was pleasantly surprised to find it had honey and cinnamon added for taste. “Wow Flayn, this is lovely!”

“You’re welcome,” said Flayn, apparently mollified. “As for my father, he woke early, around dawn. That’s normal for him, you know. He told me he wanted you to sleep as long as you need and not to wake you.”

Reaching across the table, Flayn gripped the hand that wasn’t holding tea. “He wanted to plan Captain Jeralt’s funeral as fast as possible. Due to his importance in the church, father wants to hold it tomorrow.” Watching her Professor’s face, Flayn asked, “Is that too soon?”

“No!” answered Byleth, slightly startled by the question. “To be honest, I don’t know what a real funeral should look like. We would just bury our dead on the battlefield, you know?”

“Yeah,” hummed Flayn, squeezing Byleth’s hand then releasing it. “I do.” Standing, she took a house coat from a hanger near the door. Handing it to Byleth she said, “Here, you can wear this while we walk to your rooms. I will have the clothes you were wearing laundered.”

“Oh, Flayn,” breathed Byleth, feeling tears on her eyes. “You don’t need to …”

“But I want to, Professor,” said Flayn with a sad smile. “You finish your tea and muffin and we will go. I’ll keep working on this essay.” Noticing the leather tome on the table, she added, “Also, my father wanted to ask you if he could read Captain Jeralt’s journal. Would that be alright with you?”

“Um,” said Byleth, looking to the book. “Sure? Did he say why?”

“Not really,” shrugged Flayn, returning to her essay. “All he said was he needed your permission first. He’s very protective over books you know, even ones that don’t belong to him.”

For some reason that revelation caused a warm feeling to fill her chest, bringing even more tears to her eyes. She had barely stopped crying since witnessing her father fall the day before. Goddess, had it only been yesterday? And the day before was the ball? Too much has happened recently.

“Yes, unfortunately,” muttered Sothis’s voice in her mind. “We’ve had a pretty eventful couple of days, haven’t we?”

Yes, we have, thought Byleth internally.

Once she had finished her small breakfast Byleth and Flayn walked downstairs to Seteths’ office. Dismayed that he was not there, Byleth placed her father’s book on his desk. As they left the Administrator’s empty office, they girls saw Manuela’s office door was open across the hall.

“Ah, Byleth,” called the older woman when she saw them, “I was hoping to speak with you. It is also good to see you as well Flayn. Do you two mind coming in?”

Byleth’s chest lurched upon seeing a white sheet covering her father when she walked into the room. She knew the man was under there, at least his body was, even if she couldn’t see him properly. Seeing the young woman’s distress, Manuela moved to stand before her, taking her hands in her own.

“Breath, Byleth, let yourself feel your grief,” Manuela said gently, squeezing her hands, grounding her in the physical connection. Seeing that Byleth had calmed herself, Manuela chose her next words carefully. “Byleth, my dear, I, we, must deal with your father’s body … before he begins to decompose.” Steeling herself, Manuela looked into the younger woman’s eyes. “Trust me, you do not want to see what that can do to a person, especially someone you love, if you can avoid it.”

“I’ve seen it,” muttered Byleth, looking down at their clasped hands. “Though, not on someone I knew.” Taking a deep breath, she returned her eyes to Manuela’s. The older woman was not crying, surprisingly, though her eyes had a dark, hollow cast to them. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, you should get dressed,” Manuela said with a small smirk. “Then I need you to go find Leonie, I want her here with us for the cleaning of the body.”

Seeing Byleth’s confused expression, Flayn decided to interject for the first time. “Family members, usually women, will clean and dress the body for burial. It gives them a chance to say their final good byes.”

“And Leonie is family too, isn’t she,” mumbled Byleth, her eyes straying to the prone form of her father’s body beneath the sheet. Feeling Flayn take her hand, she let the girl gently pull her from Manuela’s office.

As they were walking to the rooms once inhabited by Jeralt as the Captain of the Knights of Seiros, Byleth felt a pang of intense sadness and regret. Now that her father was dead, it felt entirely inappropriate to remain in his rooms. Once they were there, everything inside reminded her of her father and she wanted nothing but to flee.

Finding clothes for the day, she told Flayn, “I can’t stay here. I’m not the Captain, my father was.” Turning to her paramour’s daughter in desperation, she said, “I need to move my things back to my room in the dormitories.”

“Are you sure?” Flayn asked her, her expression full of gentle concern. When Byleth gave her an emphatic nod, she capitulated and stated, “If that’s what you want. I can ask the girls to help move your things at some point today.”

After Byleth was dressed, wearing the generic black uniform she did most days she was not fighting, she and Flayn set out to find Leonie. They were directed by a few of the Golden Deer students that she was practicing her archery in the training grounds. When they had arrived, they found her and her house leader Claude, as well as Ashe from their own house, shooting at targets.

Leonie kept shooting when Byleth and Flayn approached her, her focus entirely on her task. “Leonie,” murmured Claude, trying to get her attention. “Teach is here to see you.” Ignoring him, the girl with hair uncannily like Byleth’s father’s spat into the sand of the training grounds and shot another arrow.

“She’s been like that all day,” said Ashe sadly. Approaching Byleth, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Professor. I heard from Mercedes about the stab wound, that it couldn’t be healed?”

“That bitch!” screamed Leonie when one of her arrows missed its target. “I knew I should have gone with you!” she shouted again, whirling to glare at Byleth. “Why didn’t you kill that little shitstain when you had the chance!? I’ve seen you when you fight, you’re faster than lightning when you want to be, and that stupid sword of yours can go almost as far as my arrows!”

As Leonie attempted to lunge forward, Claude grabbed her by the elbow, holding her back. “Stop it Leonie! She’s not your enemy!”

“I was trying to heal my father,” wept Byleth. While she was upset and let her tears flow, she refused to feed into Leonie’s anger. Byleth was mature enough to realize it wasn’t her Leonie was mad at, not really.

“I don’t care if you was your father,” cried Leonie, crumpling to the sand. “I loved him too!” she croaked, her whole body wracked with sobs. Claude knelt down beside her, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder.

Stepping forward gingerly, Byleth held out her hand. “Leonie, I want you to come with me.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “I need your help … with my father.”

“Go,” whispered Claude, helping the archer to her feet. Giving her a tight hug, he kissed her on the forehead, then urged her to go with Byleth. Not knowing what to do in the face of such tender affection, Byleth only stared at her feet. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

“Yeah,” sniffled Leonie. “Thank’s Claude.” Looking to Ashe, she added, “Don’t let him be lazy just because I’m not here now freckles.”

“Hey!” called Claude while Ashe chuckled beside him.

Throwing a half-hearted smile and wave in Claude’s direction, Leonie followed Byleth and Flayn from the training grounds. The girls all walked silently up to Manuela’s office on the second floor of the main building. When they arrived, Flayn told them this was a family moment and excused herself. While Byleth wished for her to stay, she also knew the green-haired healer was correct and didn’t question her decision to leave.

Byleth braced herself to Leonie’s reaction to Jeralt’s dead body on a long table on the far side of the room. To her surprise, the usually loud and boisterous girl was quiet. She only walked up to Jeralt and looked down, her expression grave.

“So,” said Leonie, staring at the sheet covered body, “What do you need me to do?”

“First,” said Manuela from her seat at her desk, “I need you to know why we asked you to come. Are you familiar with the practice of washing the dead?”

Leonie grunted her acknowledgment of the practice, keeping her eyes on Jeralt. After a moment, she blinked her eyes, looking to Manuela and Byleth. “But, that’s just for family? I loved him, almost as much as my own Dad, but …” Leonie’s eyes grew wet as she returned her gaze to Jeralt. “But he wasn’t, you know, my Dad.”

“No, not exactly,” said Manuela, careful with her words. “Leonie, I am going to tell you a secret that cannot leave this room. Do you promise not to repeat it to anyone?”

“What is going on?” asked the red-haired girl, alarmed.

“Leonie, you are family,” said Byleth quietly, walking to stand on the other side of her father’s body. Looking down at Jeralt, she said, “He’s your great-grandfather.” Looking up, she caught Leonie’s expression of bewilderment and gave her a small smirk. “Have you never wondered why we came back to your village so often? Why you look like him, in more ways that even I do?”

The young archer looked from Byleth to Manuela, mouth agape. “How is that possible? He’d have to be —”

“Over three centuries old,” finished Manuela, grimly. “We’re not sure how either, but that’s what his journal indicated.” Standing from her desk chair, the older woman groaned, rubbing her lower back. Byleth felt a pang of sadness hit her hard and fast watching her dead father’s pregnant fiancée approach his body. “Fact of the matter is, we are his family, and it is our solemn duty to prepare him for his final rest.”

“Show me — us — what to do,” asked Byleth, gulping in air to suppress yet another wave of tears.

The three women took their time as Manuela walked them through the ritual. Solemnly they removed Jeralt’s clothing, folding and placing it to the side as they went. Manuela folded the shroud to cover his waist while she removed his trousers and small clothes, keeping that part of him private from the girls, for which Byleth was immensely appreciative.

They all washed his body together, cleaning the blood and dirt from his skin. When it was time to roll him over so they could clean his back, Manuela held the shroud tight while Byleth and Leonie maneuvered Jeralt’s dead body to rest on its side. Byleth startled and Leonie cried “Holy Fuck!” upon seeing the knife wound. What had began the day before as a simple stab wound, barely an inch wide, was now the length of most of his back and half as wide. Despite his body no longer retaining any life, the wound continued to weep blood and viscera, as though its evil magic was still eating its way through his body.

“Manuela,” hissed Byleth, holding her father’s body firmly to its side. Leonie had jumped back, holding her mouth as though she were about to vomit. “You need to see this.”

Coming around to their side of Jeralt’s body, Manuela let out a loud shriek. “By the Goddess,” she whispered, reaching for the wound. Byleth batted her hand away, not allowing the woman to indulge in her curiosity. Blinking, Manuela stated, “Good thinking, Byleth. Girls, remain here, I am going to find Flayn. She’s young but she’s even more of an expert in the healing arts than me.”

Nodding, Byleth gently released her father’s body, allowing it to lay back in the prone position on the infirmary table. Moments after Manuela had left, Seteth came into her office. “What’s wrong, I heard screaming?” His eyes darted from Byleth to Leonie, and finally to Jeralt’s body.

Upon seeing Seteth’s strong, gentle countenance, Byleth couldn’t hold her emotions back any longer. Disregarding Leonie’s presence in the room, she ran to the tall man and wrapped her arms around him. She wept silently into his doublet as he held her. After a moment, Seteth asked Leonie, “What happened, Miss Pinelli?”

“Um,” muttered Leonie, watching them hesitantly. “The wound on the Captain’s back has gotten worse, somehow. Professor Manuela went to go find your sister.”

Gently pulling away from Byleth, Seteth looked down to her. “Gotten worse?” he asked, looking into her eyes. Byleth saw fear and confusion in those beautiful, emerald eyes. “What does that mean?”

“It’s festering, from the evil, dark magic from that stupid fucking dagger,” explained Byleth, her voice cracking on the last few words. Pressing her face once again into his chest, she cried, her words muffled, “It must have been agonizing! And I wasn’t fast enough to stop it!”

“Shh,” came Seteth’s reassuring voice from above her. Byleth calmed as she felt his hand caressing the top of her head. Manuela returned while she was still in Seteth’s arms, Flayn, and surprisingly Linhardt in tow.

“Oh good,” came the older woman’s voice, snapping Byleth out of her moment of despair, “Seteth is here too. You should probably see the … wound.”

Byleth pulled away from her paramour’s arms and walked back to the table with her father’s body on it. While she moved, Seteth’s eyes landed on Linhardt. Byleth couldn’t decide if he scowled at the boy or not. “Mr. Von Hevring,” said Seteth formally, “May I ask why you are present?”

“I brought him, brother,” stated Flayn, almost defiantly. “He is a healer and a scholar, his insight would be invaluable in a situation like this.”

“I was eating lunch with Flayn when Manuela found us,” supplemented Linhardt. “She told her about the wound and I wanted the opportunity to examine a dark magic wound up close.”

“Just don’t faint,” grumbled Byleth, lifting her father once again. She was uncomfortable with how many people were now in the room, but knew the value in it.

“Why would I — oh!” Linhardt’s face went pale when Byleth had rolled her father’s body far enough that the wound on his back was visible. Seteth and Flayn had also startled, though theirs were much more restrained.

“By the Goddess,” squeaked Flayn, covering her mouth.

“It can’t be,” breathed Seteth, looking to his daughter with an expression Byleth couldn’t read. Seeing that Linhardt was indeed about to faint, he grabbed the boy roughly by the arm. “Hold yourself together Mr. Von Hevring. If you are to be a physician and officer you must control yourself in the presence of blood.”

“I can’t help it,” whined the young man, holding his head. “I can’t stand the sight of blood, I wish I could.”

Once Linhardt appeared to be more steady on his feet, Seteth released his arm. As the boy composed himself, Seteth asked, “That’s all from one dagger?”

“Yes,” stated Manuela calmly. From a locked drawer low down on her desk she retrieved the weapon in question, holding it out to Seteth. “I made sure to keep it so that we may study it.”

“Can I see that?” asked Linhardt, oblivious that Manuela had meant for the recipient to be the Administrator. The scholar and physician in training turned the dark black, glass-like blade around in his hands as he examined it. “Just as I thought,” he concluded, “It feels like Hubert’s magic — he has proficiency in dark magic as well as elemental magic — but it’s much more concentrated. Almost like the blade is made of magic itself. But, is that possible?”

“Yes,” grunted Seteth, his arms folded over his chest. “It is possible. I have seen it before.” Holding his hand out to Linhardt, he ordered, “Give me the blade, I will hide it somewhere safe.” Without argument the boy handed the dark magic blade to the tall man. Taking a clean rag from the supplied the women had been using to wash Jeralt’s body, Seteth wrapped it around the dagger.

With the examination over, Byleth gently rolled her father’s body back onto the table. Looking to Seteth she gave him a pleading look. Adept at reading even her most muted of gestures, Seteth said, “I will send Knights down to collect his body in a few hours.” Nodding to Byleth, Seteth turned to his daughter and the young man, stating, “Flayn, Mr. Von Hevring, let us leave them to their work.”

“Yes sir,” said Linhardt, eager to leave the room that smelled of blood and death. He was out the door before Flayn had a chance to give Byleth a soft “goodbye”, before she too left the room. Seteth merely bowed to the three women before following the others out the door, and shutting it behind him.

Feeling almost as sick as Linhardt had appeared, Byleth found a chair and sat. “Now what?” she asked, feeling her hands begin to shake.

“We pack the wound and wrap his body,” stated Manuela matter of factly. “I will have to ask you girls to do that, unfortunately, I don’t know if the dark magic could hurt the baby.”

“Of course,” said Leonie, speaking for the first time in since Seteth asked her to explain the situation. Without Byleth’s help she rolled Jeralt over once more. Her jaw clenched tight, she took the scrap pieces of linen that Manuela held out to her and stuffed them into the gaping hole on the Captain’s back.

Feeling stronger after her short rest, Byleth stood. Taking a long roll of bandages from Manuela, she wrapped it around her father’s chest while Leonie held the packed scraps in place. Once that gruesome task was done, Manuela explained that their final task was to wrap linen tightly all around his body.

Leonie and Byleth turned away as Manuela began wrapping around Jeralt’s waist and between his legs. The older woman spoke quietly to Jeralt, her subdued tones lower than either of the girls could hear. Once she was done, they helped her wrap his feet and lower legs.

“It is common to use this time to say your final goodbyes,” Manuela told them, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. While Byleth and Leonie began to work on his upper legs and torso, she took his hand and placed the back of it against her small but round belly. “I’m so sorry you didn’t get to meet your son,” wept Manuela, her eyes locked on Jeralt’s face.

“I don’t need to say you’d be a great father, Byleth is already proof enough of that.” Manuela’s voice cracked on that comment, somewhere between a laugh and a cry. “But I know you would have been a fantastic father for this little one. I’ll make sure we’ll tell him all about you, Byleth and I. About how you always made sure everyone was healthy and safe first, about how …” Manuela could no longer hold back her sobs, her emotion overtaking her words.

Placing his arm back on the table, Manuela assisted the girls in wrapping it tight to his body. Wiping her eyes more forcefully, not caring if she smudged her makeup, Manuela said to the girls, “This is your time now, tell him what you need to say.”

Watching Byleth, waiting for her to say something, Leonie spoke when the normally muted Professor did not. “I’m really going to miss you, old man. Older than I realized, huh?” Not stopping her work on wrapping his body with the final shroud, Leonie continued, “Why didn’t you ever tell me? I loved you like a father, only to find out you actually were my blood?” Biting her lip, she said her final words: “So much lost time, now we can’t ever get it back.”

As they wrapped up the rest of his chest and shoulders, Manuela paused and looked to Byleth. “It’s your turn, my dear,” she told her softly.

“What do I say?” asked Byleth, overwhelmed by the gravity of the moment.

“Goodbye,” sniffled Leonie, “That’s all, really. It’s for you, not him. He’s dead, he can’t hear you anymore.”

“Leonie!” admonished Manuela. “Don’t be so cruel!”

“I’m sorry,” muttered the girl. “It just seemed like the sort of thing he would say, you know? He was always so straightforward.”

“Yeah,” muttered Byleth, walking up to her father’s face. Even though he had only been dead a day, his face already had an unnatural gray palor to it. In the back of her mind Byleth knew that if they waited any longer he wouldn’t look like himself anymore once the putrefaction set in. Goddess dammit, why was she thinking of that of all things right now?

“Because emotions are difficult for you, so you fall back on logic,” said her ever present companion in her head.

What do I say? Can he still hear me? she asked her little Goddess.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember what happens to the souls once they leave their bodies, if I ever did in the first place. Just say what’s in your heart, this is the last time you will ever see his face.”

Taking her Goddess’ advice, Byleth caressed her hand on her father’s too-cold brow. “Hey Dad,” she began, immediately feeling silly for the informality of it. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, I tried, I really did. But that fucker Solon did something and I couldn’t change things this time.” Feeling anger and tears coming to the surface, Byleth clenched her free hand. “I promise I’ll make him pay for what he did to you.”

“Byleth,” muttered Manuela, taking the young woman’s hand. “Talk to him about love. Revenge will come later.”

“You’re right,” conceded Byleth, squeezing the physician’s hand affectionately. Looking from Manuela to her father, Byleth said, “You chose a good one Dad.” Feeling her voice crack, she squeezed Manuela’s hand once again. “I just wish you two could have found each other sooner. She’s gonna be a good Mom. I wish she could have been mine.”

“I’m not going anywhere young lady,” sniffled Manuela, placing her head on Byleth’s shoulder. Leonie stood across from Jeralt’s body silently, letting the two women have their moment. Once they had begun to part, Leonie took the rest of the linen shroud and wrapped it tightly around Jeralt’s face and neck.

The three parted ways after that, each of them too drained to talk further. Byleth and Leonie walked Manuela back to her rooms, making sure she was safe and comfortable. As they walked back to the dorms, Claude found them. Seeing Leonie’s red eyes and wet cheeks, he said nothing as he gathered her up in his arms. In a way much more mature than his years would let on, he held the usually strong archer tight and shushed her tears.

Bidding them farewell, Byleth returned to her old dorm room on the first level of the building. Not wishing to see anyone further that day, Byleth turned her key and entered the room. Sothis almost immediately appeared in the darkened silence of the room. Allowing her Goddess to comfort her with kind words of love and reassurance, Byleth fell into her old bed and almost immediately fell asleep.

Chapter 81: Dimitri - Cemetery

Summary:

Dimitri's point of view during Captain Jeralt's funeral.

The funeral was held on a sunny, winter’s day, just before noon. Rhea herself had led the proceedings, speaking at length about how pious and heroic Jeralt had been in life. Others spoke, but Dimitri was disheartened to see that Byleth remained silent. He understood, of course, having barely been able to speak for years after witnessing his own father’s death. Dimitri only wished that his beloved Professor was stronger than him, at least in that regard.

At the end of the service in the cathedral, Alois, Catherine, and two other Knights of Seiros carried Jeralt’s coffin down to the cemetery. Byleth, Manuela, and, for some reason unknown to him, Leonie, walked directly behind the coffin. This was the position usually reserved for close family members. Dimitri had heard Leonie knew Jeralt from before the Academy, but had not realized they were that close.

After them had walked Rhea and Seteth, followed by dozens of high ranking Knights of Seiros. Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude were the next in line of the funeral procession, their respective houses following behind them. The young Prince couldn’t help but glare at the back of Seteth’s head. He was jealous that the older man could be so much closer than he was to his Professor during her time of need.

Dimitri had not seen Byleth since everyone had returned to Garreg Mach two days earlier. The moment they entered the monastery grounds, she and her father’s body had been whisked away to Manuela’s private office. The young Prince had wanted to search her out; to hold her close and give her comfort. Both Dedue and Mercedes had counseled him against doing so, and so he did not. He still wasn’t sure if that had been the correct course of action or not.

His feelings towards Catherine were much more complicated. There had been so many life changing events recently for Dimitri. He could scarcely believe it had been only three nights since he had attended the ball, then spending the night afterwards with Catherine in the Knight’s Hall. Every time his mind wandered to his night with her he could feel a traitorous blush rising to his cheeks. On at least two separate occasions Catherine had noticed and given him a sly wink.

Even at this very moment, while he watched the woman lowering her Captain’s coffin into the fresh grave, Dimitri’s mind betrayed him with memories of their night together.

Goddess, he was horrible to be thinking of that at a time like this! How could be thinking of one woman, while the one he thought he adored was watching her father, her only family, being buried?

Dimitri couldn’t see Byleth beyond the densely packed crowd in the small cemetery. Even so, his skin burned with embarrassment at the notion that while she was watching Jeralt being entombed his mind wandered to lascivious thoughts. Blinking away his shame and frustration, Dimitri’s eyes wandered over the crowd until they fell on the form of an entirely different woman.

Shamir stood with the high ranking Knights behind Rhea. She was facing away from Dimitri and the students, looking towards Jeralt’s grave. When Catherine was finished with her work as a pallbearer, she walked up to Shamir and grasped her hand. The dark-haired spymaster leaned on the taller warrior as Rhea began her final blessings on the Captain’s open grave.

Seeing Catherine and Shamir being affectionate in front of others confused Dimitri to no end. Such a thing simply was not done in the Kingdom, having people of the same sex showing their relationship so publicly. From what he understood it was not common at the Monastery either, but whether it was due to their status as high ranking Knights, or that Rhea just simply did not care, Shamir and Catherine seemed to feel free with their public affections.

Dimitri, however, couldn’t seem to reconcile the woman before him with the one who had so eagerly had sex with him multiple times only a few nights before. In any other situation he would surmise she was in love with another man and unavailable. However, in this case, the other person was not a man. The young Prince had no idea whether that mattered or not. He wondered if he should ask Catherine about it the next she sought him out. If there were to be a next time, that is.

Lost in his thoughts, Dimitri barely noticed when Edelgard spoke to him. “Something wrong Dimitri?” asked Edelgard as she sidled up close to him. Her voice was low, intended for only him to hear.

“What?” he asked, blinking away his reverie. Looking down at the much shorter girl, he let himself relax. “No, not really. Just thinking … remembering.”

“Ah, yes,” murmured Edelgard, watching the Archbishop as she spoke scripture. “King Lambert must be on your mind at a time like this. I miss him as well, you know. He was a good man.”

“Hmm,” mumbled Dimitri, swallowing the anger and sadness he always felt whenever his father’s name was brought up. After long moments of watching the proceedings, Dimitri asked Edelgard quietly, “El, do you think we could ever be friends again, like when we were children?”

“Perhaps,” she mused without mirth, “But I think we both know the time has long since passed for that. If we are to be friends, it would be something new.”

He ruminated on that response for a beat before she asked him a decidedly different question, “Do you trust the church?” The young woman directed her chin towards the Archbishop standing by the open grave. “Do you trust her?”

“With my whole heart,” he spoke without thinking. For it was true, wasn’t it? He was the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom, his destiny was intertwined with the Church of Seiros.

“I see,” she said quietly. They stood together in silence for the next several minutes as Lady Rhea completed her speech. When she was done, Edelgard turned from the graveyard and back to the school grounds. “Goodbye, Dimitri,” she said, a hint of sadness on her voice.

“Goodbye Edelgard,” he replied, watching her go. The majority of the Black Eagles left with her, with the exception of Linhardt, who walked up to Flayn. The Golden Eagles mostly remained. As a unit they approached Leonie, embracing her with various displays of emotion. His own Blue Lions went ahead of him to comfort his teacher, whom was embracing Professor Manuela.

Feeling a strong hand on his shoulder, Dimitri jumped slightly. “My Prince,” came Dedue’s calm, deep voice from beside him. For once Mercedes was not with him, having gone forward with the rest of their class to comfort their Professor. “I overheard your conversation with the Princess. This must be very difficult for you. ”

“You lost your family too, Dedue,” commented Dimitri, attempting to be jovial but failing miserably.

“Indeed,” said the taller young man dourly. “Which is why I know how both you and the Professor are feeling.” Heaving a sigh, Dedue added, “I know you want to go to her, I can see it written all over your face. Please, my Prince, just wait a little longer, for when her wound is not so fresh.”

“If you believe that to be wise, my friend,” mumbled Dimitri, watching the rest of his class interacting with his beloved Professor.

Chapter 82: Sylvain - Cemetery

Summary:

Sylvain takes issue with the fact that everyone has forgotten Ingrid's birthday due to Captain Jeralt's funeral. Whilst taking her out to the pub to unwind, he reveals his true feelings to her.

Notes:

This chapter was originally posted a few weeks ago in this series under "Ingrid's Birthday." I wanted to post it right after I wrote it and thought it worked as a one off for readers who didn't want to read the entire longfic.

Content warning: explicit sexual content.

As a rule, Sylvain hated funerals. They were sad, tedious, and altogether boring. He much preferred the Gautier way of celebrating life: with a wake full of whiskey, singing, and telling happy stories of the deceased. Captain Jeralt, however, was not only not Gautian, he was a Knight of Seiros, and was given a full military funeral in the tradition of the church.

Sylvain did his best to keep his face neutral during the procession from the Cathedral down to the cemetery, though he was unsure if he was successful. The entire time, as he walked at the rear of the Blue Lions house, his eyes were only for Ingrid. It was her goddamned birthday and seemingly everyone forgot it because of the funeral.

Ingrid hid it well, but Sylvain could tell she was upset. Her eyes were red and puffy with secretly shed tears, even if they were now dry. He knew better than anyone that she did not weep for the Captain, nor even for their Professor’s loss of her father, but for Glenn.

Ever since her birth, Ingrid had been betrothed to Glenn Fraldarius, Felix’s older brother. Due to Ingrid’s home province of Galatea being relatively poor she spent every winter in Fraldarius becoming close with the Duke’s family. She and Felix, being the same age, were practically raised as brother and sister. And Sylvain, due to his father being close friends with Rodrigue, Felix’s father, has also spent many months with the other noble children. During the summer months all four of them would travel to Fhirdiad to spend with Dimitri, which was how all of them became such close friends.

And then the Tragedy of Duscur happened, blowing up the lives of every person in Faerghus in one bloody afternoon.

After Glenn had died, Galatea no longer had any reason to send their only Crest bearing heir to Fraldarius for months on end, so he and Felix, and to a lesser extent Dimitri, had lost touch with Ingrid. That was four years ago, before Ingrid had blossomed into a strong and beautiful young woman. Sylvain always wondered why Rodrigue didn’t continue the marriage contract with Galatea so that Felix and Ingrid were now betrothed: he assumed it had something to do with both having Crests, whereas Glenn not having been born with one. But now, realizing his own feelings towards the young woman, Sylvain was glad for it.

Felix, whom was marching beside Ingrid, did not appear to show any emotion on his face. Though Sylvain knew better. When Felix was especially upset he would clench his jaw, and Sylvain could already see the red splotches blooming on his friend’s lower cheeks. His oldest friend had respected Captain Jeralt, but his emotions were likely due to his memory of his older brother’s loss as well. Felix still had not forgiven Rodrigue for his response to Glenn’s death.

Once they had arrived at the gravesite and lady Rhea had begun her speech, Sylvain did his best to stand at attention. As much as he hated funerals, he would remain respectful towards those who had lost someone they loved. He looked towards the women standing at the side of the open grave. Byleth was stone face as always as she held Professor Manuela’s hand, Leonie standing on her other side. The older woman was crying quietly, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Sylvain’s heart broke when his eyes drifted to her belly, slightly rounded by the baby within.

While Sylvain had slept with many women over the years, he was always careful not to get any of them pregnant. In many cases he didn’t have penetrative sex at all, simply content with only going as far as fellatio. Manuela, standing there pregnant and without a husband, was one of his fears for his flings. That, and the fear that if any baby was born with the Gautier crest, its mother would use that for her political advantage, no matter her own standing. Sylvain had not trusted most women who showed any interest in him for that very reason.

When Rhea had finished her speech and the Knights began to bury his body in the grave, Sylvain went with the rest of his classmates to console their Professor. Mercedes and Annette immediately gave Byleth hugs, then Dedue. Felix, not much one for touch, stood back. Once the huge Duscurian had the woman from his embrace, Sylvain took her up in his arms.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Professor,” he said sincerely while he squeezed her tight. As he held her, he could see what Dimitri had found so captivating in the small but fierce woman. She smelled of soap and leather, and her lithely muscled arms flexed beneath his. But, as Sylvain had determined many, many months ago, she was not just another woman to woo. Like Manuela, she was staff, and Sylvain wasn’t in the habit of getting either himself or someone else in trouble just for the fun of it. Well, not unless they deserved it, like some of the tarts that pursued him.

Releasing Byleth, he held her at arms length. “If you need anything from me, please say the word and I am at your service.” Byleth had only giggled then shook her head, moving onto another student.

His heart heavy, Sylvain looked over to Manuela. She was being embraced by her own students of the Golden Deer, as was Leonie. Moving to look through the rest of the crowd, Sylvain saw that Ingrid was missing.

“Hey, Felix,” he asked, approaching his friend. “Did you see where Ingrid went?”

Felix only shrugged and said, “She seemed pretty upset. I wanted to give her some space.”

Sylvain groaned and shook his head. “She’s not you buddy, she’s not apt to hiding all of her emotions. Which, by the way, you’re not as good at as ou think you are. Plus, it’s her birthday, you knew that right?”

Felix scoffed, “Of course I know it’s her birthday. But what am I supposed to do? Give her a cake and flowers? Seems pretty disrespectful considering the circumstances.” He said the last part with a wave towards the freshly dug grave.

“Well how would you feel if everyone forgot your birthday?” snapped Sylvain, ready to be done with this conversation.

“I wouldn’t care,” said Felix plainly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” spat Sylvain, pushing past Felix on his way back to the monastery.

***

After about an hour of searching, Sylvain found Ingrid alone inside the Blue Lions classroom. The blonde girl was sat at one of the long desks, bent over a large piece of paper. As he approached, he saw that it was a map of Faerghus. Tears stained the ink around the region of Fraldarius, blurring the text.

Noting that she had not budged from her position when he had come in, Sylvain placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Starting at his touch, Ingrid nearly fell out of her chair as she jumped backwards. “Oh, Sylvain,” she said with a sniff, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“You don’t need to hide that you’re crying, Ingrid,” he said. “I’d say you have plenty of reasons to cry today.”

“I didn’t know Captain Jeralt very well,” she began, wiping the last of the wetness from her face. “The funeral just … made me remember — ”

“— Glenn,” said Sylvain, cutting her off. “Yeah, I know. It was hard for all of us to lose him, but especially for you and Felix.”

“It’s been four years,” she murmured, “I should be over it by now.”

“That’s bullshit,” scoffed Sylvain, crossing his arms. “Everyone grieves in their own time.”

“Yeah,” said Ingrid with a small smile, “But I really do want to move on, you know? Not live in the past?”

“Yeah,” sighed Sylvain, “I know what you mean.” After a short pause, he added, “But that’s not all you’re upset about today, is it?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, genuinely perplexed.

Sylvain scoffed and cocked his head. “It’s your birthday and nobody seems to remember or care. Don’t tell me that doesn’t piss you off even a little bit.”

Ingrid shook her head and looked back down to the map. “It doesn’t matter, not on a day like today. Plus, it doesn’t feel right to celebrate my birth, my life, the same day as such a big funeral. You know?”

Grabbing her hand, Sylvain stated, “Fuck that, I’m taking you to the pub in town for a proper birthday feast,” and pulled her towards the door.

***

When Sylvain and Ingrid first stepped into the pub, it was only half full. Despite being the weekend, the hour was still early, and the afternoon sunlight filtered gently through the windows. After finding them a table, Sylvain ordered a pitcher of ale and quickly slipped into comfortable conversation with the blonde girl across from him.

Yet, as their words danced lightly across the table, Sylvain’s mind wandered back to the night of the ball.

He’d arrived wrapped in the finest Gautian regalia, furs and all, feeling equal parts regal and ridiculous. But all sense of awkwardness evaporated the moment he saw her. Ingrid, radiant in a deep green gown, stood like a vision pulled from some ancient tale. While other women wore gowns in the latest Adrestian style of low-cut bodices and high waists, Ingrid chose a style that spoke to something older, prouder. Her Faerghian dress, with its fitted bodice, long sleeves, and voluminous skirt, honored her tall, muscular, warrior’s frame. Her hair bore emerald ribbons woven through her intricately braided blonde hair

The moment he had seen her enter the ballroom Sylvain knew, with startling clarity, that he was in love.

As the night wore on and the late afternoon sun burned away, the pub grew more raucous. Sylvain’s heart soared to see Ingrid smiling as they sang baudy songs with the other patrons. He was particularly proud of how red her face grew when he led the entire room in a very loud and off key rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

Noting that the sun had long since gone down, Sylvain pressed a glass of water into Ingrid’s hands. He had made sure she drank a glass of water for every mug of ale, but even so, he could tell she was somewhat tipsy. Guzzling his own down, he waved over a serving girl so that he could pay her.

The buzz of the alcohol still pleasant but not overwhelming in his blood, Sylvain stood from the table. With a flourish, he bowed before Ingrid before offering his hand, “My lady, will you do me the honor?”

“Goddess Sylvain,” scoffed Ingrid, standing from her own chair. “I will not dance with you in here!”

“What?” he asked, perplexed. “No, I meant it’s time to go! It’s still winter, after all, don’t want you catching a chill on the walk back to the monastery.” Waving goodbye to the servers and the man behind the bar, Sylvain wrapped an arm around Ingrid’s shoulders before heading out into the winter night.

After a few moments of slightly tipsy walking, Ingrid said, “You seem to know a lot of people in there.”

“Well of course,” he said brightly, his arm still on her shoulder, “It’s my favorite pub! They’re honest, hard working people, and most don’t seem to care I’m a noble.”

“We weren’t the only nobles in there,” commented Ingrid. “I noted a few others from the Officer’s Academy in there.” After a beat, she asked, “How many other girls have you brought there?”

Sylvain’s heart fell at the question. He knew at some point she would bring up his philandering ways, but he still held out hope it would have been ignored. He was, however, still hopeful, considering Ingrid still allowed him to keep his arm around her shoulders. “None in the last couple months, to be honest,” he sighed.

“Why not?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Awe shit, he thought, stopping on the path, halfway up to the monastery. Debating on what he should say, he decided on the truth. In his experience, the truth was always the best option, no matter how much it hurt, mostly because he couldn’t be called out on lying later.

Swallowing his fear, he moved his arm from her shoulders and turned to face her. Without touching her, he said, his voice low and breathy, “I … only had eyes for a certain girl.”

“Oh,” replied Ingrid, clearly crestfallen. “I see.” Stepping away from him, she stood tall. “Well, that’s unusual for you Sylvain, only being interested in one girl. Even so, I’m glad you’re not stringing girls along anymore like you used to.” Adjusting her officer’s jacket, Ingrid began to stride past him on the path back up the hill.

Dumbfounded by just how oblivious she could be, Sylvain grabbed her by the hand. “By the Goddess Ingrid,” he sputtered, “It’s you dummy! You’re the girl!”

Ingrid whipped around to look at him, her eyes wide. “You can’t be serious,” she retorted, her pale cheeks reddening in a blush. “But, I’m so plain and boyish! I thought it would be someone cultured and feminine like Dorothea who caught your eye!?”

Sylvain chuckled and shook his head. “You’re not boyish,” he chastised, pulling her close. Usually half a head taller than her, she was of a height with him as she stood above him on the steep mountain path. His voice low and deep, he stared into her eyes as he said, “And you’re more than feminine enough.”

Ingrid only stared at him for long moments, her mouth agape as she squeezed his hand tight. Unsure of what to do next, Sylvain began to move forward to continue their climb back to the monastery. Ingrid apparently took this as an invitation, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing a hasty kiss to his lips. It was too fast and awkward, their noses batting against each other. Ingrid pulled away in embarrassment at the fumbled kiss, mumbling, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Sylvain growled, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing his mouth to hers. This kiss was at a much better angle, allowing him to slide his lips against hers, gently at first, and then much more firmly. Remembering that they were in the cold winter air on the side of the very public path back up to Garreg Mach, Sylvain released Ingrid from their kiss. With a smile, he murmured, “It’s cold. We can continue this when get inside.”

“Of course,” she said abruptly, releasing her arms from around his neck. With military efficiency she marked back up the hill, Sylvain on her heels.

***

Trying his best not to run, the adrenaline pumping through his veins at the exhilaration at his first kiss with Ingrid, he grasped her hand as he followed her. They made it back to the dorms just at the nineteenth bell rang. Sylvain always appreciated just how early the sun set in the winter.

When they arrived at her dormitory room door, Sylvain paused. His heart beat faster as she fumbled with the key to her door. As the concept of what he was about to do with Ingrid melted through his alcohol addled brain, he stepped back. Ingrid turned to him once the door to her bedroom was open, her face flushed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing how he had put space between them.

“I want this,” he said, combing his fingers through his hair. “I really, really do. But, Ingrid,” she added, swallowing hard, “I will only spend the night with you if it’s for real. I care too much about you, know you too well, to just …” He trailed off, not wanting to say the words “use you” out loud.

After a long moment where a myriad of emotions played across her face, Ingrid answered, “I see.” Closing her eyes, she stood straight, taking in a deep breath. “Well, Sylvain, that is … unexpected of you. I guess it’s best that we say goodnight here then.”

Faking a smirk, he said, “Yeah. Goodnight, Ingrid.”

Her mouth a tight line, Ingrid nodded, before stepping inside and closing the door behind her. Sylvain could only stand there and stare at the door, trying not to cry. He had finally admitted his true feelings, only to have Ingrid literally shut the door in his face. What had he done wrong, was he too forward? Should he have not walked her back to her dorm room? Was it his reputation as a lothario that had damned him.

Wiping the wetness from his cheeks, Sylvain combed both hands through his hair, pulling it back from his face. Working to keep his emotions in check, he began to turn to walk to his own room on the other side of the building. Just as he began to walk, he heard the door in front of him creak open.

Ingrid stood before him, her own face red with emotion. Before he could have a chance to say anything, she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. Closing the door behind them, she panted, staring at him. “What exactly do you mean by ‘real’?”

Sylvain was struck by her beauty in this moment. Usually Ingrid worked to keep her emotions in check, as she believed all knights should. Instead, she was flushed with emotion and drink, her hair coming loose from its braid, her officer’s jacked unbuttoned.

Feeling as vulnerable as though he were naked, Sylvain once again chose truth. “I have real feelings for you, Ingrid. I have dreamed of making love to you for more nights than I can count. I can’t be with you if you don’t feel the same way.”

“Since when?” she scoffed, her hackles raised. “If you cared for me so, why did you go around cavorting with all of those women?”

A fair point, but one that he was ready to answer. “I have always cared for you, I believe,” he answered honestly, “But only since coming to the Academy have I realized just truly how much!” Approaching her, he added, “I tried to deny it, to cavort, as you say, with the women who showered me with attention, but after a while I just …”

Sylvain couldn’t find the words, so he just let them fall away. He stood there, in her dorm room, with only a small lantern lit on her desk for light. Goddess how he wanted to just gather her up and kiss her in this moment, but he knew that he needed to let her come to him.

After long moments, Ingrid said, “Okay,” before locking the door. Sylvain stood, watching her in shock, as she removed her officer’s jacket. His brain didn’t seem to click back into gear until she had pulled her boots off.

“Okay?” he asked, transfixed as she undressed.

“Yeah,” she answered, pulling her thick woolen leggings from herself. Throwing them to the side, she walked up to him. His pulse thumped heavily in his ears as he watched her, bare legged, cross the room towards him.

“I want the real thing too,” she confessed, cupping his face in her hands. “I don’t know what the future brings, but I trust you Sylvain. I always have.” Slowly, she pulled his face to hers and his heart soared.

They continued the kiss as he allowed her to pull first his jacket and then his shirt from his shoulders. He shivered as her inexperienced hands slid up his abdomen to rest on his pectoral. She smirked as she pressed her palm to his chest, feeling his heart beat racing. “You seem more nervous than I do,” she cooed.

Instead of replying with words, Sylvain pulled Ingrid’s hair away so he could kiss her neck. As he sucked at the delicate skin, he unbuttoned her shirt. Beneath she wore a simple corset, which he began to expertly untie.

Now that they were both naked from the waist up, he stepped back. Her hand still on his chest, he took in her body. The muscles of her torso were nearly as well defined as his own, sculpted from many hours on the training grounds and battlefield. The nipples of her perfectly shaped, modestly sized breasts were peaked; from the cold or pleasure, he did not know, or care.

Bending down, he took one of those perfect breasts into his mouth. Ingrid rewarded him with a gasp of pleasure as he ticked her nipple with his tongue. Wishing to hear more sounds of delight from her lips, he moved down her torso, kissing all the way. Arriving at the waistband of her skit, Sylvain kissed along her hips as he undid the hook-and-eye closure. He was pleased to see her completely naked once the skirt was removed, Ingrid apparently having removed all of her undergarments previously.

“Lay down,” he ordered, his voice husky. Sylvain, already half way hard, felt himself strain against his trousers as he watched her. How such a perfect creature could think she was anything but the most lovely woman was beyond him. Though, perhaps, he was blinding but what he was now sure was love when he beheld her.

Undoing the buttons of his trousers, though only to relieve the pressure of his growing erection, Sylvain could see Ingrid’s body tense. “Shh,” he cajoled, rubbing his hand reassuringly down the outside of her thighs. “I will only do what you want. I only care for your pleasure.”

Ingrid only nodded, shivering slightly in the cold as Sylvain bent down before her.

Pushing her legs gently apart, Sylvain kissed the inside of Ingrid’s thigh before moving down to her sex. She gasped loudly before muffling herself with her hand as his tongue licked between her feminine folds. Finding the little rounded bundle of nerves that he knew would give her the greatest pleasure, Sylvain sucked and scraped his teeth against it, delighting in how Ingrid squirmed beneath him.

“Do you like that?” he asked between licks and sucks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice breathy.

Inserting one finger inside of her, Sylvain could feel her feminine walls contract against it. Rubbing the inside of her, he asked again, “How about that?”

Ingrid replied by grabbing his hair and pressing his face back into her sex. Chuckling, he obliged, kissing and licking her while massaging her inside until he could feel her come apart. Part of him was dismayed that he didn’t hear her cry his name as the rode her orgasm, but he also expected she didn’t want her neighbors to hear them.

Once ready to speak again, Ingrid begged, “Please, Sylvain, I want you!” Her words caused a fresh supply of blood to surge to his already erect cock. Goddess, how he wanted this, wanted her. He had never made love to someone truly deserving of the word, but now he had Ingrid before him, begging for him.

Without another word, Sylvain slipped from his trousers and small clothes. As naked as the woman before him, he bent over her once again. Kissing her deeply, he held the head of his manhood against her entrance. “Tell me Ingrid,” he breathed against her lips, “Tell me you want me.”

Wrapping her arms and legs around his torso, Ingrid stated, “I want you, Sylvain. I need you. Please …”

Aching with the need to be one with her, Sylvain lined himself up with Ingrid. Slowly he slipped himself inside of her, grunting with the effort. She was a virgin, he knew it, but he was still surprised by how tight she was. If he weren’t careful he’d spend himself before even getting started.

Not wanting to potentially hurt her, he watched her face for any signs of pain. Ingrid grunted and sighed, moving her body to best accept his size, but did not indicate any pain. Opening her eyes, she stared back into his, before moving her hips into him.

Smiling, Sylvain moved his hips slowly back and forth, delighted as Ingrid moved with him. Kissing her, he began to move faster, soon outpacing her. She bit her palm as he thrust into her again and again, stifling her cries of ecstasy.

So overcome with lust and affection for the woman beneath him, Sylvain could feel himself begin to come undone. He nearly lost himself as he felt her feminine muscled begin to convulse around his sex. Still, their coming together was so new, so fresh, he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. With a grunt, he pulled himself from her, spilling his seed into his hand.

Without a thought, he found one of his socks and wiped his hand clean on it. Pulling the blanket from her bed, he laid next to her before wrapping it around them both. His heart sang when she curled into him, kissing him gently on the mouth.

After long minutes nestled in each other’s arms, wrapped in quiet affection against the bite of winter, Sylvain felt Ingrid’s breathing ease into the gentle rhythm of sleep. Confident she had drifted off, he brushed a soft kiss across her brow.
“I love you, Ingrid Galatea,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. Then, with the faintest smile, he closed his eyes and surrendered to a deep, dreamless sleep.

Notes:

This chapter, plus a couple earlier from Flayn's point of view, are why I went back and redid the entire fic so each chapter is only from a single point of view. This way I could make it clear whose point of view this chapter is from, while also allowing me to add more points of view, instead of the main three in the love triangle: Byleth, Seteth, and Dimitri. It also allows me to have several chapters during the five years that Byleth is missing. I plan on having future chapters from Dorothea and Felix in the near future, though more character POVs may be added if it works with the story.

Chapter 83: Byleth - Offices

Summary:

Byleth is confronted by Dimitri in the Captain's office.

Byleth knew she should be in her classroom, teaching the Blue Lions, but she wasn’t ready to return to the world of the living just yet. Seteth had told both her and Manuela to take a few days, giving them time to mourn in peace. That had been nearly a week ago and Byleth had promised to resume normal classes today.

When Byleth had approached her classroom to begin the day she felt an overwhelming pang of sadness. Her first instinct had been to make her way directly to Seteth’s office; she had become used to searching him out whenever she was feeling sad. The tall Administrator’s presence was immensely comforting, though Byleth did worry she was distracting him. He was always the gentleman though, taking a moment to comfort and reassure her before returning to his work and sending the young Professor on her way.

Despite having grown exceptionally close over the last few weeks, Byleth had not stayed with Seteth in his rooms since the night her father died. Instead she had attempted to resume their formal courtship, even though she had little understanding of what that entailed. The Professor had engaged Ashe to help, mostly due to his love of fables and tales of chivalry, but also because of his ability to keep a secret.

Ashe admitted that it was mostly the man who initiated romance in a formal courtship. The shy boy had suggested she give Seteth a “favor”, some kind of small scarf with her favorite perfume sprayed on it that he could keep in his pocket. Unfortunately, Byleth never wore perfume, nor kept any scarves. She would have to take the time and energy to make something else for her courtship gift.

Byleth knew she wanted to be with the tall, stern, and uncommonly handsome Seteth. Every time he held her close she could the flutter of attraction in her core. But the young Professor also knew that if she ended up in her Administrator’s bed once more, it would be without clothes.

The idea of making love to Seteth, to give herself so fully to a man she cared for and trusted so deeply, gnawed at the edges of Byleth’s mind constantly. While she pondered on how incredible such an act would feel, both physically and emotionally, Byleth wasn’t sure if she were ready. Or if her Administrator was either. For now, she was content for them both to take their time, only to make that leap together when they were both willing and committed.

Arriving at her paramour’s office, Byleth felt her emotions sink when she realized he wasn’t there. Musing that Seteth must be out with his beloved wyverns this early in the morning, she wandered out the door. Her belly did another flip flop when she realized that, across the way, the door to her father’s old office was ajar.

Walking inside, Byleth felt a pang of regret as she looked around. As hot tears came to her eyes, Sothis corporealized next to the desk that once belonged to her father.

“It’s okay,” spoke the little Goddess, “It’s good to cry.”

“But I don’t want to cry anymore!” sobbed Byleth, wiping her face roughly with the sleeve of her coat. “I didn’t cry for twenty fucking years, and now I haven’t been able to stop for weeks!”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Professor,” came a deep but soft masculine voice from behind her. In surprise Byleth startled and whipped around while Sothis dematerialized. Behind her stood Prince Dimitri, his hands palm up. “Whoa, Professor, it’s just me! I came looking for you when you didn’t show up for class.”

“Oh, hi Dimitri,” mumbled Byleth, relaxing her shoulders. Truthfully, being alone with the Prince still put her on edge — especially now that she was definitely courting Seteth — but she didn’t want to appear rude. She was also confident she could trust Dimitri not to make any advances on her if she didn’t reciprocate his affections. The fact that he had given her space in the past week had bolstered her resolve in that regard.

Seeing that she was slow to respond, he apologized, “Forgive me. I suppose it’s too soon to coax you back into the normal swing of things.”

“No, it’s alright,” she murmured. “I really should be trying to get back to normal.” After a beat, she mumbled low, “Whatever normal is.”

“Yeah,” chuckled the Prince, lowering his hands and relaxing his posture. “I’m not sure what would constitute as normal around here anymore myself.”

Pausing, the Prince’s countenance grew subdued as he looked around. “For what it’s worth,” he uttered softly, “I’m sorry for what happened to Jeralt.” Turning his piercing blue gaze to hers, he continued, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

“It’s not your fault,” whispered Byleth, lowering her head so her hair could shield her eyes from his view. The ruse didn’t work; her tears betraying her as they fell onto the carpet of the office.

Dimitri approached her, wiping away her tears with a pristinely white handkerchief. Against her better judgment, she let him. Damn her if she couldn’t help how wonderful it felt to be cared for by this gallant, caring Prince. He made her feel like she was some long lost princess hiding away in a tower, and he was the fairy prince to come rescue her.

“I don’t believe it’s a sign of strength to just keep moving forward, not matter what,” he whispered, only loud enough for her to hear. Instead of embracing her, he handed her the immaculate handkerchief. As she took it to further dry her tears, he added, “There is strength in taking the time to grieve too. No matter how sad you are now, your tears will eventually dry.”

Giving her a bittersweet grin, he declared, “And when they do, that’s when you have to figure out what you’re living for and cling to it with all your might. That’s when you can start moving forward again.”

Sniffling pathetically, Byleth kept her eyes downcast and asked him, “What am I living for, Dimitri?”

Instead of answering her question, Dimitri turned from her to look out the ancient window set into the stone wall of the office. “I experienced the same pain, losing my father,” he remarked. “He was the strongest man I knew. I loved and admired him deeply.”

Hearing the Prince inhale deeply, Byleth rose her head to watch him. In a dangerous voice, Dimitri uttered, “I watched as he was killed right before my eyes, his head severed clean off.”

Images of Dimitri’s own head being severed by the Death Knight’s scythe came to Byleths’ mind, causing her to freeze in terror and disgust. What cruel trick of fate made it so both father and son had died in the same, gruesome way? Only for the son to be lucky enough to be in the presence of a Goddess who could turn back time to save him.

“The my stepmother abandoned me and disappeared into the fire. They never found her body. The bodies that were found were burnt so badly they were unidentifiable. I couldn’t save anyone that day, I wasn’t strong enough.” He turned back to face Byleth, his face contorted in controlled rage. “Now their burdens fall on me. I must ensure they have no regrets as the sole survivor.”

Byleth was taken aback when the momentary rage was quickly replaced with the gentle countenance she had come to recognize on the Prince. Smiling sadly at her, he asked, “Now that your father is gone, what will you do?”

When she didn’t reply, Dimitri walked forward and placed his hand on her upper chest. He was careful not to touch her breasts, but Byleth blushed at the familiar contact either way. “Look deep in your heart, I’m sure you’ll find the answers there.”

For long moments they stared at each other, the ice blue of his eyes falling into the indigo ocean of her own. Before she could stop it, he leaned forward to kiss her. Panicked, she jumped back, breaking the contact of his palm on her chest. “I must go,” she mumbled before dashing from the room.

Chapter 84: Dimitri - Apartments

Summary:

Dimitri has a fight with the Blue Lions policy. Later in the day he finds himself once again in Catherine's presence.

Notes:

Content warning: explicit descriptions of sex.

Dimitri made no move to stop Byleth as she fled the Captain’s office. That didn’t keep him from feeling the mixed emotions of desire, embarrassment, and despair braiding together in his chest. The reaction reminded him all too keenly of how she ran off the night of the ball.

Standing tall, he straightened his uniform and clenched his fists. He must not break something, he was a Prince. He must be in more control of himself than that.

Determined not to make a scene, Dimitri walked calmly, if somewhat stiltedly, back to the Blue Lions classroom. Inside only a few of his classmates were present, the others still searching for their Professor. Sylvain and Annette were chatting about magic, while Dedue was sitting in the corner reading.

Seeing his Prince enter, Dedue rose to his feet. “No luck finding her, my Prince?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“No,” grumbled Dimitri, sitting next to his best friend. “I mean yes, I found her, but no, she’s not coming.”

“Does that mean we get a free day?” questioned Sylvain with a sarcastic smile.

“Oh, don’t be so lazy Sylvain,” pouted Annette. “Even with the Professor absent, Administrator Seteth still wants us to take our exams! It’s only a few months until the end of the school year. You won’t graduate if you fail those!”

“Meh,” shrugged the red-haired young man. “I’ll eventually be Margrave Gautier, whether I graduate or not. I only came here so I could hang out with Felix and Ingrid one more year before they went and became serious adults.”

“And what about you,” growled Dimitri, losing his patience with Sylvain. “Is it beyond your ability to be a serious adult? Is that why you sleep with so many women, never taking any to wife, just treating them like some plaything to discard?” Dimitri wasn’t sure why he was so angry with his old friend, his womanizing ways not usually getting him so riled up.

“Hey now,” countered Sylvain, “I’ll have you know every single one of those women knew exactly what they were getting into, thank you very much! Besides, Your Highness,” he added wryly, placing his hands behind his neck and stretching his shoulders, “Maybe you should try it some time. Sex that is. It would help with all of this pent up anger you seem to have.”

“I have had sex, you bastard!” shouted Dimitri. Several gasps and snorts rang out across the room. Whether his admission or his tone was what shocked the few people in the room, he wasn’t sure, nor did he care.

Dimitri was, however, dismayed that he had revealed that private information to Sylvain of all people. He had not even gathered the courage to speak to Dedue of his night with Catherine before this moment, and the two told each other everything. Dimitri even knew that his bodyguard and Mercedes had already been intimate together.

“Ha! I knew it!” declared Sylvain with a wide grin, pointing an accusatory finger at his Prince. “You never came home the night of the ball! Who was it, tell us! It was the Professor, wasn’t it!?”

“Sylvain!” exclaimed Annette, aghast. “You can’t just say things like that! Especially about our Professor!”

“You’re right,” capitulated Sylvain easily, settling back in his seat. “Besides, the only girl more virginal than our quiet little Professor is you Annie.”

“Hey!” shrieked Annette, “That is completely inappropriate Sylvain!”

Ignoring the ginger girl, Sylvain returned his attention to Dimitri. Annette’s remarks gave Dimitri a moment to calm down and ready himself for Sylvain’s onslaught of questions. “So, Dimitri, who was it? Was it your first time?”

“Unlike you, Sylvain, I am a gentleman,” stated Dimitri, leaning back into his chair. While he was speaking, Ingrid and Felix walked through the door.

“Oh now Dimitri, how much of a gentleman could you be?” quipped Sylvain, eying Felix and Ingrid as they entered. “You’re not married, everyone in Fodlan would know if you were.”

“What are you blathering on about?” grumbled Felix, crossing his arms. Ingrid, inured to Sylvain’s antics, looked to Dimitri for answers. The Prince maintained his silence, incensing Sylvain.

“Our noble Prince fucked some mystery girl on the night of the ball and won’t tell us who she was,” declared Sylvain, clear annoyance on his voice. Both Felix and Ingrid’s eyes grew wide.

“All we know is that it wasn’t the Professor.” Crossing his arms, Sylvain added, “Even I know she’s off limits, don’t want the poor girl getting fired over some dick.”

“Oh my Goddess Sylvain!” groaned Ingrid, walking through the aisle between the two young men. “Could you not be a jerk for once?”

As Ingrid was admonishing Sylvain, Felix shied away from the confrontation, an obvious flush filling his face. While the young man was adept in a fight, anything having to do with love and sex completely perplexed and overwhelmed him. He quietly sat down in the front corner of the classroom, his back to the discussion at hand.

“And Dimitri,” she added in a harsh tone, turning to face him. “I’m surprised. I expect this behavior of Sylvain, but not you. Just promise me she’s not going to be a problem later.” Dimitri noticed a mild smirk pass between the two at Ingrid’s comment. The Prince wondered if his old friends had a secret of their own.

Leaving that though for later, Dimitri grumbled, “She’s not.” Though, part of him was unsure if that were true. Catherine had said she wouldn’t be birthing any noble bastards, but Dimitri only had her word to go on regarding that.

Tired of the interrogation, the young Prince stood. “I’m done here. You all can do whatever you want, I don’t care.” As Dedue began to rise to follow, Dimitri growled, “No Dedue, I want to be alone.” Ignoring the sad look his best friend gave him, he exited the Blue Lions classroom, slamming the door behind him.

***

For the rest of the day Dimitri sought out ways to distract himself. Initially he had ventured to walk down to Garreg Mach town, but found nothing there to interest him and trudged back to the monastery nearly an hour later. Still full of energy and frustration, he went to the training ground.

For about an hour he was left in peace to practice with his lance without any of the Blue Lions interrupting him. He even managed to have a lively practice with Ferdinand. Unfortunately, when Felix appeared to train as well, Dimitri all but dropped his lance in his haste to leave. Even though he knew Felix had no interest in discussing any kind of sex life, Dimitri didn’t want to endure the young man’s scornful gaze.

As the sun hung high in the sky, Dimitri swallowed his pride and headed for the Knight’s Hall. His intention was to either practice his swordplay with the older Knights there, or peruse their library. He was not going with Catherine in mind. At least not at first.

Seeing the woman inside, chatting with Gilbert, Annette’s father and Faerghian Knight sworn to his service, he groaned. These were two people he definitely did not want to interact with, especially not at the same time. Before he had a chance to leave, Catherine caught sight of him and called his name.

“Dimitri!” she shouted jovially. “Gilbert here was just telling me stories of Fhirdiad! Why don’t you join us?”

“Um, no thanks,” he mumbled as he turned for the exit. Much to his chagrin Catherine followed him out of the hall.

“Not so fast,” she said as she caught up to him. Slipping her arm through his, she held him tight, urging him to slow his walking. He knew that her strength was no match for his, especially with his Crest, but Dimitri was encouraged by her touch.

Damn, why did it feel so good to have her arm in his?

“So, Your Highness,” she asked conversationally as she directed them to walk casually through the gardens. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. Care to explain?”

“What? I haven’t been avoiding you,” he lied, working hard to keep his expression neutral.

“You’re very bad a lying Dimitri,” murmured Catherine, giving his arm a squeeze. “I can feel that you are very tense under that jacket of yours.”

Stopping their promenade under the shade of a large evergreen, she purred quietly, “I could help you … relieve that tension. I so enjoyed our last session.”

Feeling himself grow warm while listening to her sultry innuendo, Dimitri choked on his words. “Um, but, what about Sha—” He was silenced by a finger to his mouth.

“Shh, don’t worry about that. She’s … aware of the situation.” With a quick glance around for anyone within earshot, she whispered into his ear, “Come to my room tonight. It’s the second one on the right once you reach the third floor.”

Looking around once more, she gave him a quick peck on the lips, telling him, “See you then.” He couldn’t help but watch her walk away, blood thundering in his ears.

***

Later that night, against his better judgment, Dimitri found himself at Catherine’s door. It was well past student curfew, but he found he didn’t care. Dimitri wanted to feel alive, to feel some sort of affection. If he couldn’t ask Byleth to give it to him, he would take it where it was offered.

Was this how Sylvain felt, every time he took a random woman to bed?

Dimitri knew how hollow and love starved his old friend was beneath his boisterous and jovial surface. It had only gotten worse in the months since arriving at the Academy, especially since they had to put down Sylvain’s older brother, Miklan.

Dimitri knew that burying himself in the arms of a woman wasn’t the best way to deal with his despair, but now that he was doing it himself, he felt an unexpected kinship for Sylvain.

Gathering his courage, Dimitri knocked on Catherine’s door. After a moment of no sound or movement, the young Prince could feel his heart sinking. He had waited too long, she must have fallen asleep.

Turning to go, his heart leapt into his throat when he heard the door open behind him. “Hey you,” came Catherine’s deep, sultry voice. From within.

Whipping around, Dimitri felt the blood rush to his ears when he saw her. She was wearing only an oversized training tunic whilst holding a small lantern. Her neckline was undone, open all the way down to her breasts, hanging so loosely that it almost revealed a nipple. Below the hem that barely covered her hips, her shapely legs were naked and entirely too enticing.

“Why don’t you come inside?”

Swallowing, his throat having gone dry upon seeing her, Dimitri obeyed. Once inside Catherine shut the door behind him then, setting the lantern on a nearby table. Without much warning, she practically jumped on him, grabbing him by the back of his head.

Catherine pulled his mouth down to hers as she pushed him against the closed door. “Goddess,” she breathed in between sloppy, needy kisses, “I’ve been wanting your cock for days.”

“You have?” he stammered as she lowered herself down in front of him. She teased him, undoing the buttons of his jacket before reaching his belt. Dimitri shuddered in anticipation when she began to unbutton his trousers. He released a groan as Catherine freed his already half-way hard erection from his small clothes.

“Oh yeah,” she purred, taking him in hand. “You’re clumsy, but you’re big. And Goddess are you pretty!” Before he had a chance to reply, she wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock. The feeling was as electrifying as the first time she had done so.

“Catherine,” grunted Dimitri, grabbing her by her hair as she slid him further into her mouth. He gasped as he felt the back of her throat. “It’s too much, I’m gonna —” She cut him off by grabbing his balls and squeezing gently. She hadn’t done that last time and the feeling was overwhelming. Unable to hold back, he released inside her mouth. Bent over, he relished the feeling of her throat swallowing around his sex.

Standing up, Catherine gave him a devilish grin as she wiped her face. In the low lantern light Dimitri wasn’t sure if it was his cum or her spit she wiped, and he didn’t care. Over come with lust, he grabbed her roughly and pressed his lips to hers. He felt both dirty and delighted that it was his seed that had found itself on the edge of her mouth.

“I thought we would get that first one out of the way fast,” she chuckled, pulling her tunic over her head. Dimitri marveled at her body, still not fully believing that such a beautiful woman had just had his manhood inside her mouth, down her throat. That this enticing, sexy creature wanted him as badly as he did her.

“First one, eh?” he purred, pulling off the rest of his own clothes before pushing her to the single bed in the corner of the room. Catherine’s room was not much bigger than the student dormitories on the other side of the Garreg Mach campus. Thankful for having more room than their first time on only a couch, Dimitri took advantage of the space.

Pushing her knees apart with his hands, he lifted his right hand to her breast. Squeezing it gently, he enjoyed the small sounds she made. Barely tickling her, Dimitri continued trailing his fingers down her body to the softness between her legs. Rubbing his fingers against her feminine folds he was pleased to find they were already wet. “Tell me what you want me to do,” he hummed, kissing her neck.

“Trust me, little Prince,” she cooed, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him on top of her. “There’s nothing you can do with your hands that would compare to Shamir’s. I want your cock.”

“Is that so?” he asked, pressing one finger inside her. He was rewarded with a groan. Pressing another one inside, Catherine gasped and jerked her hips. Dimitri felt himself growing hard once again at how she eagerly she reacted to him. “You seem to be liking my fingers just fine.”

“Oh you little shit — ah!” gasped Catherine as Dimitri slid a third finger inside her, spreading her open for him. Lightning shot up his spine as he felt her finger nails scratch down his back. Finding that he enjoyed playing with her, Dimitri thrust his fingers in and out of Catherine, relishing in the sounds she made.

His focus on pleasuring and playing with her, he didn’t notice when her hand had come down to wrap around his girth. Dimitri shuddered when she squeezed tight, causing him to falter for a moment. During this momentary reprieve Catherine began to pump his cock, bringing him to full hardness. “Fuck me Dimitri, I need you,” she begged.

“As the lady wishes,” he purred, pulling his fingers from inside her. Her hand still grasping him, he let her line him up with her entrance. She was warm and wet and he needed to feel the inside of her immediately. With a grunt he slid himself inside her warm sheath.

“Oh Goddess,” groaned Catherine as Dimitri pushed inside her. Her walls wrapped around him deliciously as he pressed in as far as he could go. He marveled at how they met at the hips, his cock spreading her wide for him.

Leaning over, he kissed her deeply. She returned the kiss, holding him tight to her. Dimitri savored how her soft breasts crushed to his hard chest.

Pulling back from her, he watched her face as he languidly pulled his hardness from her then pushed back in. Dimitri delighted in how Catherine watched him beneath half lidded eyes, gasping every time he thrust back into her. With how she looked at him, he could imagine she cared for him, and he for her, at least for one night.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he began to drive into her faster and faster. He grunted in pleasure as she grabbed his ass, pulling him into her with every thrust. “Where do you want me to cum,” he asked breathlessly, his eyes on hers.

“I don’t care,” Catherine replied, equally as out of breath, meeting his hips with her own as he thrust into her over and over again. Feeling himself about to climax, Dimitri pulled himself from her. The Prince released himself onto her belly, his fear of a royal bastard informing his decision in that moment. Damn him if she didn’t look amazing covered in his seed though.

Breathing heavily, he asked her, “Towel?”

“On the chair,” she panted, gulping in air. Finding the aforementioned towel, Dimitri first cleaned himself before bringing it to Catherine’s torso. “Hey, I can do that you know.”

“Perhaps,” he cooed, wiping all traces of himself from her skin. “But I wanted to.” Throwing the towel into the corner, he kissed her before laying next to her.

For long moments they laid there together, pressing the sides of their bodies against each other. Once their breathing had calmed, Catherine hummed, “That was great. We should do this more often.”

“Yeah,” murmured Dimitri quietly, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey,” she said, propping herself on her elbow to look him in the eye. “What’s wrong?”

Unsure of how much he should reveal to her, he decided on the obvious, “I’m just not sure what to make of this … of us. Everyone in Garreg Mach knows you’re with Shamir.”

“Oh, is that all?” Catherine chuckled, laying her head against his upper pectoral. “I told you, she knows. She doesn’t care if I sleep with men, as long as I don’t take up with any other women.”

“I just don’t understand it,” sighed Dimitri, idly caressing her shoulder. “What are we, like, to each other?”

“Friends,” she said simply, cuddling up closer to him. “Do we need to be more than that? I’ve already told you I’m not becoming some noble lady, I’m happy where I am. At some point you’ll have to return to Fhirdiad and make some girl your Queen, and me and Shamir will stay here.” Kissing his chest, she added, “That’s enough for me for now.”

“If you say so,” mumbled Dimitri, feeling himself grow tired. It was very late after all. Remembering his conversation with Sylvain from earlier in the day, he asked, “Are you sure it’s safe? You know, to be sleeping with me?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Got some venereal disease I don’t know about?” she quipped.

“Not unless you gave it to me,” he laughed. Catherine smacked him his belly, causing him to cough. “Hey, calm down. I just meant that you’re the only woman I’ve been with.”

“Really? Well then, Your Highness, I’m honored I got to pick your flower.”

“Ugh,” groaned Dimitri, “Please don’t call me that. I’m just Dimitri with you, okay?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she joked. Instead of replying to her attempt at instigating him, he merely sighed and settled further into the bed. “What did you mean then, by asking if it was safe to sleep with you?” she asked.

“It’s just something one of my classmates mentioned. He didn’t go after staff because he didn’t want them to get fired.” Kissing her brow, he mumbled against her hair, “I don’t want you to be dismissed. You told me this was the first place you felt you belonged.”

Catherine gave him a full throated laugh and propped herself once more on her elbows. “Are you serious? Rhea gave me Thunderbrand, a goddess be damned Hero’s relic! She’d never get rid of me.”

Kissing once more, she settled against him. Dimitri let her, enjoying the softness of her skin against his. After an indeterminate amount of time he felt her breathing slow as she fell asleep.

Unsure of the time, and not wanting to face another interrogation, Dimitri rose from Catherine’s bed. He wasn’t sure how long he had been with her, but the sky outside her window was still dark. Dimitri was confident he wouldn’t be found out while returning to his room.

Dimitri dressed himself in the now much lower light of the lantern on her table, careful to do up his buttons properly. Finding the quilt on the end of Catherine’s bed, he brought it up over her sleeping form. Kissing her once more, he mumbled, “I’m going back to my room. Goodnight, Cassandra.”

In her sleep she mumbled something incoherent before rolling over, cuddling the quilt around her. His heart content, at least for this one night, Dimitri left his unexpected lover’s room, shutting the door behind him.

Chapter 85: Byleth - Wyvern Pens

Summary:

Sothis leads Byleth to the Red Canyon.

Byleth stormed off from the main building in a huff. Desperately wanting to find Seteth, to feel his calming and stern presence, she made her way to the wyvern pens. She had surmised earlier that he must be there at this early hour, if he wasn’t in his office doing paperwork.

Garreg Mach’s wyvern pens were built into the side of the cliff the monastery was built upon. To get to them, Byleth had to hike past the Knight’s hall and down a staircase cut into the bedrock itself. She generally enjoyed the walk and its amazing views, but this morning was cold and she was upset, so she moved as quickly as she could.

Turning into the sanctuary of the pens built into the mouth of a natural stone cave, Byleth looked within, searching for her paramour. In the morning shadow she could barely see anything, though she had surmised most of the beasts were sleeping. Wyverns were still reptiles after all, requiring external warmth, usually from sunlight, to help stir them to wakefulness.

Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the pens, Byleth exhaled in disappointment when she saw that nobody was there, not even Seteth. As if on queue, Sothis popped into view just in front of her. In the dim light of the cave the child goddesses’ form glowed almost as brightly as a torch. Due to this form and its glow being only visible to Byleth it did nothing to illuminate the cave.

“Oh phooey,” commented Sothis, looking around the pens. “I guess he’s not here after — oh hey!”

Just as the little goddess was talking, the wyvern closest to her and Byleth shifted and rose to its feet. This wyvern had white scales, with her pink skin visible beneath. This was the first albino wyvern Byleth had ever seen, and she marveled at its beauty. She also marveled at how the creature not only noticed the little, supposedly invisible, goddess, but also pressed its massive head against her.

“It can see you!” exclaimed Byleth, watching the pale creature interacting with her not-so imaginary friend. She startled as other wyverns came to life, moving in their pens and making soft rumbling noises in their throats.

“She,” hummed Sothis, caressing the albino wyvern’s snout. “We already knew that they could, didn’t we?”

Byleth watched in awe as her constant companion flitted around the stable, greeting every creature. Every time Sothis giggled or smiled as she interacted with the wyverns Byleth’s emotions grew lighter. As though she could feel everything her little goddess could.

“You know,” Sothis began, petting the nose of the largest wyvern, the drake named Saint, “Spending time with these beasts is helping me recall more of my lost memories. It’s on the tip of my tongue, like there’s an important place where I used to be surrounded by creatures like this. Something like Zara … Zinda …”

“Zanado?” offered Byleth, coming to stand next to Saint and Sothis.

Byleth reached her hand out to let Saint sniff it before scratching the frill beneath his chin. The young Professor had come to appreciate this old wyvern and his strong and gentle nature in the time she had known him.

Much like his owner, in that regard, she thought with a mild grin.

“That’s it!” exclaimed her imaginary friend, whirling to face her. “Zanado! You know it as the Red Canyon! There’s something important there, I know it. Come on! We have to go now, while I can still recall this!”

“But how?” asked Byleth, perplexed. “It’s over a day’s ride from here?”

Sothis turned to Saint, a wide smile on her face. “We can take him! You’d like that old boy, wouldn’t you?”

Much to Byleth’s shock the drake bowed his head in agreement. Had he understood what the little goddess had said? Did he even need to understand her words, or was the feeling of her meaning enough?

Her head whirling with the complex theologies of wyverns, Byleth merely nodded. “Alright, let me get my flying gear and my weapon and we can go.”

Faster than she had arrived, Byleth sprinted up the steps to the wyvern pens and back to her dorm room. Pulling on her flight leathers and cap, she grabbed the goggles and the Sword of the Creator. As she ran back to the wyvern pens, Flayn spotted her.

“Professor!” called the girl as Byleth ran past her. “Where are you going?”

“The Red Canyon!” called Byleth behind her, not stopping to talk. It was rare that Sothis was this coherent, and the young Professor knew that she only had a short time before her constant companion was back asleep. Urged on by Sothis’s silent pleas to hurry, Byleth hurried down the stairs and into the pen.

Not trusting any of the other wyverns to carry her during her first flight alone, Byleth ran to the only creature she could trust: Saint. Finding his saddle hanging in his pen, she pulled it from the wall and onto his back. The old drake lifted his leg, giving her access to his belly to buckle the straps tight.

“Thank you,” she breathed, climbing on top of him.

Once she was safely mounted on Saint’s saddle, Sothis appeared, sitting on the wyvern’s neck in front of her. “I will show you the way,” hummed the little goddess, pointing forward. Byleth gripped the saddle horn tightly as Saint lumbered out of his pen and off the edge of the cliff.

***

Landing in a clearing, Byleth looked around. The area was still just as strange as when she had first seen it. Back when they routed the bandits during her second month with the Blue Lions. What at first had looked like cliff walls and wind worn hoodoos now appeared more like ancient buildings up close.

“So,” asked Byleth aloud, looking around the wind worn landscape, “Do you remember anything?”

“Yes,” murmured her imaginary friend. Blinking into existence in front of her, Sothis walked up to one of the many structures melted into the side of the hill. “It is all coming back to me. This structure …”

Shaking her head, Sothis looked to Byleth. “Oh, but it's as though my memories are clouded. The most important pieces are obscured.” Turning, she gave a wide gesture to the broken and worn down earthworks buildings before them. The longer they stood there, the more they looked like homes and not mounds of dirt.

“But I once called this home. I have no doubt. I seem to recall something … I cannot see it, but I can still feel it ... It is not my imagination. I know this to be true. We are already deep within this valley ...”

In that moment a long, wailing howl came from around the bend, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. The scream was entirely too human for Byleth’s liking. Whipping around, searching for the source of the screech, Sothis asked, “What was that awful sound!?”

“It was a terrible scream,” answered Byleth, looking for the creature that created it.

“Look! There!” Sothis was pointing to Byleth’s right. “At the entrance of the valley — a giant shadow!”

Notes:

Sothis saying "Zara" when trying to remember "Zanado" is a reference to the AMAZING fanfic-novel "Into the Fishpond" by the lovely E. M. Williams. Please go check it out, it is fantastic!

Notes:

I am very receptive to creative criticism, so please let me know if you have any thoughts. My entire goal is to become a better writer, so send any notes or requests my way. I will reply to every comment on my work.

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Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Earning Trust (FE3H Longfic)