The sun was high in the sky and the birds were singing more than they had all month. It was unusually warm; a perfect day to be in the courtyard with tea or socializing at the marketplace, or…
"Ingrid?" Sylvain called to her, from just within earshot. Ingrid was sitting on a bench outside the 1st floor dorms and visibly upset. "I'll catch up to you later, okay? Thanks for the seminar notes, Lorenz." Sylvain said, before giving Lorenz a wave and making his way toward Ingrid. "Hey? Ingrid!" He called again before approaching her and sitting beside her on the bench. "What's going on? What's wrong?" He asked, concerned by the state she was in as she sat there alone.
"Hey..." she sobbed, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. Sylvain noticed the crumpled paper and torn envelope beside Ingrid.
"What's wrong? You look really upset."
She shook her head. "It's nothing...just...just another..." Ingrid gritted her teeth, feeling anger and frustration boil up in her. "...fucking...marriage prospect from my father. He sent me this damn…fucking letter! No! Not a letter…a stupid…pre-nuptial agreement marked where to sign! Uuuugghhh!" Ingrid growled. "This time it's some noble from up north who owns land and a stately home and…shit!" She ranted, tears welling up in her eyes again. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry…I just..."
"It's okay, Ingrid. You don't have to explain. I'd be pissed too. Your dad just doesn't let up with picking out men for you." Sylvain said. Ingrid shook her head.
"No...he doesn't. It's like...he doesn't even care about me anymore. He cares about our status. Ingrid was getting worked up again. "I swear to the Goddess! My dad wouldn't care what fucking noble it was! As long as I have a baby with a crest...that's it!" Ingrid was usually calm and collected and she never threw this kind of language around. However, her father could push her buttons like crazy.
"I completely understand." Sylvain assured her, raising his eyebrows. It was true that Sylvain could relate heavily to what Ingrid was experiencing. The primary difference was that his parents didn't shove it down his throat the way Ingrid's father did. Ingrid's father was hellbent on securing her marriage. Sylvain's parents wouldn't be exactly thrilled that he had derailed most of his prospects. "How long have you and I known each other?" He asked. Ingrid shrugged.
"I don't know...what? Fifteen years? I mean, at least fifteen years."
"I'd say that's about right. And, your dad started trying to marry you off when you were like...six? Seven?" Sylvain questioned. Ingrid nodded.
"He started husband shopping on my sixth birthday…which, in hindsight…is so fucked up. He and I...we have a complicated relationship. We always have."
"I'd hardly call it a relationship. You and your dad have never gotten along. You are your family's golden ticket to securing and maintaining a social rank...just like I am to my family." Sylvain said. Ingrid nodded again.
"You're right." Ingrid concurred, sniffing again. "I wish I were a fucking commoner, Sylvain. This would all go away. This is..." Ingrid closed her eyes for a moment to calm herself "...this is my fourth damn marriage related request in two weeks! TWO WEEKS! This is a pre-nup for Goddess' sake! A pre-nup for someone I have never met." She said, feeling her tears start to fall again. Sylvain watched Ingrid for a moment in her broken state. He truly hated seeing Ingrid like this. In all the years he had known her, the one thing he had learned was how strong she was in spite of her family. And now? Seeing the way her father had finally gotten under her skin...was hurtful.
"I'm so sorry, Ingrid..." he said sincerely, staring across the manicured lawn at the opposite wall. He could hear the mages practicing on the other side and the laughter that ensued when they cast a spell that ended up a dud. As he listened helplessly to Ingrid as she attempted to regain her composure. He scowled at nothing in particular. Sylvain focused his attention to Ingrid's pink-tinged, swollen face. "Write your dad...Tell him you've decided to marry me."
"What the!? What the fuck!? Are you insane!" Ingrid snapped.
"No! Listen! Think about this, Ingrid!" Sylvain said excitedly, moving to his knees in front of her to force contact with her glassy eyes. "House Gautier. Noble family. My crest. Your crest. Babies with crests. Your family knows my family well. If you just lie and tell your dad that you've decided to marry me, it will shut him up…at least for a while. He'll eat that shit from the palm of your hand, Ingrid! He'll be foaming at the mouth over the thought of you becoming the heiress to House Gautier!"
Damn it. Ingrid hated it when Sylvain came up with some idea that was pure genius. She envied the way he could slack off all the time and then pull a brilliant plan out of his ass. He wasn't wrong about anything he had just said. Her father would be over the moon. All it meant was an informal announcement stating her intentions. There was nothing official about it. She could easily lie to him about this.
"Why...why would you do something like this for me? Why would you allow me to drag you into my own issues?" Ingrid questioned, thinking about Sylvain's idea.
"Uh...because we just talked about how long we've known each other. I hate seeing you like this! And Goddess only knows that my family does the same messed up crest shit! They just express it differently. Let me have your back! I know you think I am a total dipshit most of the time...but I get this. I get what you're having to endure. I am..." Sylvain shook his head and put his hands out toward Ingrid. "...I am legit trying to be a good friend, here. I'm not hitting on you. I'm not telling you how hot you are. I'm not trying to put my hand on your perfect legs. I'm not…"
"Okay! Okay! Quit while you're ahead…Ingrid sighed heavily.
"I've heard that sigh before." Sylvain said, his smile completely irresistible. Ingrid nodded her head.
"Thank you." She continued to nod, sniffing once again. "Thank you for...tolerating me. I know I'm…I'm really hard on you…a lot. Yet…you still manage to…stay your same, pleasant self." Ingrid sighed again and gave Sylvain a chuckle. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this." She laughed harder at the absurdity of it all. "You are a good friend, Sylvain." She assured him. "Oh...Goddess...I need to...I need to pull my face together.
"What are you doing the rest of the day?" Sylvain asked, raising up from his knee.
"Nothing until I look a little bit presentable. I'm supposed to go to seminar later." Ingrid said, standing up with him.
"Screw seminar. You won't be missing anything. C'mon. Let's go day drink and complain about our families." Sylvain said. Ingrid laughed.
"You know…any other time, I would lecture you about going to train or reviewing the professor's tactical assignments…but I need to drink a lot." She confessed, feeling more relieved than she had all morning.
"Can you drink straight whiskey? Felix has a bottle of that really smooth stuff they distill up there in Fraldarius country."
"I could drink the ammonia straight that they use to scrub down the armor." Ingrid said, her typical, delightful sarcasm present in her voice again. "Won't Felix get really pissed if you just take his booze? Today is his birthday. He may have plans for that whiskey. And, that Fraldarian stuff is expensive." Sylvain laughed.
"First, his dad will send that shit whenever he wants it. Second, Felix owes me big...like...as in giving me every bottle of whiskey he receives for the next two months, big." He explained.
"Goddess, you must have something good on him." Ingrid said, following Sylvain to the second-floor dorms.
"Oooooh, believe me I do. I can't tell you what it is, but it's fan-fucking-tastic." Sylvain assured her.
In a different wing on the 2nd floor of the monastery, Mercedes carefully examined the liquid before her; inserting the needle into the top of the small bottle. She was thrilled with her position as head bishop of the infirmary and she took her job very seriously. She had served as head bishop in Manuela's place for a year. As far as she was concerned, serving others through medicinal practice was what she was born to do. With the bottle in her palm, she slowly pulled the liquid out into the needle's reservoir. Once Mercedes had measured the appropriate amount, she gave the needle a couple taps as to check for any air. Once she was pleased, she left the small, crowded medicine closet for the adjacent room where three medical beds were lined up near the windows. "It's such a beautiful day today!" Mercedes chirped as the sunlight poured in and illuminated the walls of the infirmary. Are you okay?" Mercedes asked.
"Yeah...just...just nervous about...you know...everything. It…it works, right? I mean…this can't…not work…right?" Dorothea asked with apprehension in her voice asked.
"Don't worry. It works. I promise. There are some side effects, headaches mainly. You'll notice your skin becoming radiant and dewy in a couple weeks. Let me know if the headaches get too bad. Mercedes said honestly, opening a medicine jar and obtaining a cotton swab.
"You're the best, you know that?" She said, exhaling heavily. Mercedes smiled.
"Do you have other questions or concerns?"
"I don't think so. I'm ready." Dorothea said, putting her fears aside and relying on Mercedes' expertise.
"Great. I suggest we put it in your left hip. You're going to be sore for a couple hours." Mercedes explained, prepping to spot. "Lean over, relax into the bed. Put your weight on your right hip." She said swabbing the exposed skin at the opposite hip. "Here we go! Big stick..." Mercedes cautioned, as the needle made contact. She paid close attention, emptying the needle's contents into Dorothea's flesh. "There…you'll feel a burning sensation. It will dissipate shortly." Mercedes turned around to dispose of the needle and take a clipboard from the table behind her. She wrote some notes and checked some boxes on the paper.
"Oh…yeah…yeah that burns…wow." Dorothea winced, leaning over on her fists into the mattress.
"Keep your weight on your right hip." Mercedes instructed, scribbling some more notes onto her clipboard. "I need you to sign here and initial here." She pointed, handing over the clipboard.
"So, how long…does it take to…to work? To be effective?" Dorothea asked, apprehension creeping back into her voice. Mercedes glanced up at the clock as the sound of the pen scratched across the paper.
"It's been working for about five minutes." Mercedes smiled.
"Oh! Oh my that's…I thought I'd have to wait for…I don't know…longer?" Dorothea felt fluttery surprise in her stomach. Mercedes shook her head.
"Not at all. You're all set! I'll see you in three months for your next one."
"Thank you again, for everything, Mercedes." Dorothea reiterated sincerely before leaving the infirmary.
Outside, across from the stables, was a vacant field where the wyverns rested when they weren't patrolling the skies or roaming the hillsides. "Mmmrreew!" The wyvern protested.
"Hey! Hey, now! You know better than that." Claude said, patting his wyvern on her head. She let out a soft coo. And then another friendly growl as she stubbornly started to roll to her side.
"Heeey! C'mon! Get up! No one likes a pouty wyvern!" Claude coaxed her as she intentionally disobeyed and rolled upside down, peering at him with the eyes of a stubborn toddler. "Noooo! We aren't getting into this. We are trimming your nails and that's the way it will be!"
"Mmmrrrreeeerrr!" Was the response he got from her. Claude shook his head and hung a towel on the hook above the stall where she stayed.
"Well! She's on her own agenda today." A voice called to him.
"Seteth, my man!" Claude greeted him, extending his hand in his typical fashion. It wasn't really a handshake; it was more of a slap and grab. "That she is, brother. That she is." Seteth laughed at the wyvern's cute disobedience.
"I think she may be wanting to lay an egg. She's acted like this for a week." Claude observed. Seteth nodded.
"Perhaps. She's the only female wyvern on this side of the stalls so she'll be easy to monitor. I'll keep an eye on her and see if she acts like she wants to make a nest." Seteth smiled as she tucked her feet in toward her body and cooed at Claude. "She's a good-tempered wyvern. Clearly, she doesn't want her nails trimmed. I hope she does lay an egg. It would be nice to have a hatchling." Claude nodded in agreement. He said before picking up the bucket of feed in front of the stall to carry on with his feeding duties.
"Did they all eat on the other side?" Claude asked, following Seteth as he emptied feed into the next stall.
"Yes. Only these three left."
"Are they getting any meat today?" Claude asked.
"The fish monger is going to bring all the leftovers from today's cleaning. I'm sure they will all be very excited." Seteth assured him.
"Excellent. I need to head back to the monastery. I'm not going to try and fight her to trim her nails." Claude said.
"Can't say as I blame you. She's in no mood." Seteth said, giving Claude a wave. It was the perfect day for a brisk walk back to the monastery. As he approached the stables, Claude noticed that the horses had been let out to pasture to enjoy the unusually warm day. They all looked so contented. He waved to Marianne as he passed through toward the courtyard.
"Ya' know. I can't decide what I hate about you more...your perfect, perpetual tan or that flashy-ass smile." A familiar voice called out to Claude. He laughed and hurried across the courtyard to the common plaza. "Look at you! Put a shirt on! That body is disgusting!" Shamir greeted Claude, rolling her eyes and laughing at Claude's enviable, bow-trained arms and flawless torso.
"It's damn hot down there where the wyverns stay. I haven't had my shirt off outside since November!" Claude defended himself.
"Yeah, well cover up. I've got targets out and I re-threaded the silver bow. I want to see what you can do with it today." Shamir instructed him. Claude trained with Shamir frequently. He had grown close to her over the time they spent drawing bows, changing bows and breaking bows. The two made their way toward the sauna. They would be practicing behind the training grounds today rather than inside.
"And about that brave bow? When do I get to mess around with that?" Claude asked. Shamir was entirely distracted because as they rounded the corner of the sauna to the outside wall of training grounds, she caught sight of Catherine and Felix coming out of the front door. She watched, eyes locked on Catherine until Catherine looked up and caught sight of Shamir and Claude. Shamir gave Catherine a small wave and an enchanting smile.
"Watch out, boy! She'll chew you up!" Catherine yelled over to Claude, causing Shamir's face to turn pink.
"Ooooh, she's so full of shit…" Shamir said, a stupid smile plastered on her face. She shook her head and diverted her eyes to the ground, feeling the heat in her cheeks.
"You best not rough me up too much today. I gotta' look good in the sauna later." Claude cautioned.
"Oh please…a sauna date? With who?" Shamir asked.
"No, no date. But that doesn't mean I won't leave with one." Claude gave her a wink. Shamir shoved him away from her.
"Goddess! You're full of shit too! Get over there! Get those arrows on your back! I'll be there in a minute."
The second-floor dormitory was quiet. It was far too beautiful to be locked up inside ones' dorm.
"Dimitri..." Byleth whispered, placing her hand on his warm, bare, shoulder. She paused and waited for a response. "Dimitri..."
"Mmmm..." he mumbled, not moving. Byleth brushed the hair away from his neck, she could tell by the way it felt that he needed to take a long shower today and get clean. She leaned over and kissed his neck...he smelled like he needed to get clean as well.
"Hey...it's a beautiful day. Maybe you could get up for a bit? Get you a shower, get outside?" She said. Dimitri rolled over, lazily opening his eyes and focusing his gaze to Byleth. He let out a heavy breath.
"Doubt it..." he answered apathetically.
"You haven't eaten since yesterday morning. Maybe some fruit in the courtyard and chamomile tea? Wouldn't that be nice?" Byleth coaxed him, pushing dirty clumps of blond hair from his face. Dimitri didn't say anything. He sunk into his pillow once more and rolled over, facing the wall. Byleth's heart sunk. She looked to the ceiling and closed her eyes for a moment. "You have to get up..." she said, her voice laced with defeat.
"I'm fine right here..." Dimitri answered.
"Please...Dimitri...at least...at least let me help you get to the shower. You haven't had one in four days and...I can…smell you."
"Then leave..." was his response. Byleth felt a lump in her throat.
"No, it's...it's not like that." She said, doing her best to swallow the emotions swelling up in her throat. "I just...you need to clean up. It would make you feel better. Come on, I'll change your bed if you'll just get in the shower...please?" Byleth begged of him. Dimitri rolled over to face her again, his face expressionless, almost with complete void. Blue eyes met Byleth's but peered straight through her.
"What's the point?" he asked weakly. Byleth leaned forward, her forehead nearly resting on his.
"You're just having a rough week. Last week was better and next week will be better than this one. I know it's hard but you have to get up. You have to have a little bit of routine even if it's just for an hour. People ask about you…I'm running out of reasons as to why you haven't been out of bed." Byleth said.
"I've never asked you to make excuses for me." Dimitri said clearing his throat.
"I'm not making excuses. I just…I hate telling people over and over that you're lying here in bed miserable. C'mon. Twenty-minute shower, some tea, new sheets. You can do it." Byleth coached. Dimitri exhaled heavily again and kicked the covers away to the floor.
According to Mercedes, his official diagnosis was post-traumatic stress disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, depression, survivor's guilt and intermittent night terrors. Mercedes had monitored the conditions for a year and a half. Symptoms came and went, symptoms changed, and for the past six months, the symptoms had been just short of intolerable. Mercedes was considering changing one of Dimitri's five medications that Byleth managed. The truth was that Mercedes was beginning to worry more about Byleth than she was Dimitri. She knew Dimitri could be managed but Byleth had essentially turned into his caregiver for the past six months while the symptoms raged, leaving Dimitri broken and debilitated. Byleth had been so consumed in Dimitri's care, she had neglected her own.
She gave Dimitri a soft smile as he slung his feet to the floor, sitting up for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours.
"There you go. See? Not so bad." She said, rubbing her hand over his knee. I have everything you need for a nice shower by the door. It's been there since yesterday. When you come back, I'll have this bed changed and some Chamomile ready. Byleth's voice was soft and comforting. Dimitri sat there, staring at the floor, trying to muster up the courage to stand up. Byleth watched him carefully, blond hair, badly needing brushed, falling forward around his face. She was internally cheerleading him to take that first step. She knew that if he would just get up, he would get to the shower. Byleth watched in silence, waiting. After a couple minutes that felt like hours, Dimitri stood. Byleth sighed, closing her eyes in relief.