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Unknown

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Byleth sat up abruptly as awareness returned to her in a rush. One hand rose to put pressure on her wounded chest, fingers sliding through the hot blood, while the other dropped the sword still clenched in her hand and reached for Seiros' Crest Stone. Not instantly finding what she was looking for, Byleth's breath hitched in mounting panic as she all but threw herself to her knees, slick fingers immediately abandoning her wound in favor of joining her frantic search.

"Calm yourself." Sothis' sharp tone broke through Byleth's alarm, the younger woman's hands freezing as the elder goddess faded into view. Despite the vast darkness that encased them, their eyes locked with little trouble, Byleth's bright and feverish gaze causing Sothis' frown to deepen. "We have precious little time left, and none whatsoever to pander to your panic."

"S-Seiros' Stone-" Byleth rasped only to be impatiently cut off.

"Is in the waking world, as it should be. Think! Look at your surroundings!" Sothis snapped as she floated closer. Her eyes flicked briefly downwards, a complicated series of emotions shining within the orbs too swiftly for Byleth to decipher, before returning to pierce Byleth's own with a renewed intensity. Her voice was harsh with uncontrolled urgency. "You know you cannot bring anything your soul does not recognize as a part of itself with you when you appear here. You do not just have yourself to think about- we do not have time for this!"

Byleth reared back in surprise at both the harsh tone and sudden proximity of Sothis' scowling face. Blinking rapidly, Byleth's gaze flitted around, her mind only now registering the dark void that currently surrounded them – and how oppressive it felt.

Swallowing thickly, Byleth's tense muscles relaxed as her shoulders slowly slumped in defeat. She made eye contact with Sothis once more, her eyes still bright with pain but noticeably clearer than before, her voice heavy with sorrow. "…Is this it, then? Nemesis won?"

"Is this it?" Sothis' hackles rose at the utter defeat that dripped from Byleth's words, her scowl deepening.

"The better question is whether you are truly who you appear to be." Sothis noted the spark of confusion her words caused in green eyes yet carried on anyhow, voice cold. "You appear to be Byleth Eisner, Queen of the United Kingdom of Fódlan – however that Byleth would not sit here uselessly stewing in self-indulgent pity. That Byleth is a deity in her own right. That Byleth would let nothing stop her from reaching her goals."

Byleth's hand curled into a fist as Sothis' harsh words pierced through the overpowering cloud of emotions she had been drowning in, the confusion and self-pity fading into the background as righteous determination slowly took hold. Her slumped shoulders stiffened as her gaze sharpened in defiance.

Sothis' harsh tone mellowed as her words visibly took effect. Her eyes flicked downwards once more, this time lingering slightly longer before rising. Her once cold tone turned soft and fond. "That Byleth I am proud to call both friend and daughter."

Byleth let those last words suffuse her and temporarily patch the ache within before she took a deep breath and staggered to her feet, green eyes determined and voice firm. "How do I fix this?"

Sothis let out a silent breath of relief even as she acutely felt the void closing in. Her little spiel had taken up time they did not have, but it had been necessary. If they had any chance of fixing things, Byleth's mind and heart had to be focused.

She spoke quickly.

"You very nearly did die, but Nemesis' final blow did not reach you. Our Crest Stone, damaged as it was, could not handle the power you were attempting to draw forth. It shattered." Both Sothis and Byleth winced at the remembered pain. "And yet, miraculously, at the very same moment it shattered you succeeded in turning back time."

"What does that mean?" Byleth frowned.

"It means that we are in a limbo of sorts – dead, yet alive. It means that we have a little more flexibility than usual, certain constants of the universe no longer holding sway over us as they should." Sothis stared seriously into Byleth's determined eyes. "It means we can fix this, but we have to do it now before it is too late."

A ripple passed through the void, and despite the unending darkness surrounding them, the place felt noticeably smaller - more confined. And it was shrinking steadily.

"If there is any chance of us avoiding this outcome, we must go back as far as we can and hope it is far enough. Only…" Sothis took a deep breath and shook her head. "This is uncharted territory, for the both of us. I do not know what exactly will happen if we are successful - but know that we cannot falter. If we are to succeed, our hearts and minds must once more be as one. We must put everything towards our goal; if we fail now, there will be no second chances."

The void quaked around them, causing both women to clutch their chests in unison and gasp in pain.

"Now!" Sothis wheezed urgently. "We must do it now!"

Byleth nodded and grabbed Sothis' hands, head falling to press their foreheads together firmly. "I'm ready."

Sothis squeezed Byleth's hands moments before small motes of green light began to slowly waft off of their joined forms. It took one beat for the motes to multiply exponentially. Two beats, and the motes began to swirl around them, forming a twister of bright green. Three beats, and both of their forms dissolved into light before being seamlessly added to the blinding vortex.

On what would have been the fourth beat the void collapsed upon itself, not a trace of the green light left to be seen.

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Imperial Year 1180

Harpstring Moon

Garreg Mach

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A bloodied man with ragged green hair howled in grief as a young woman with similar features fell to the ground before him. Dropping numbly to his knees, he gathered her up in his arms, depleted magic attempting to heal her even as her breaths grew more and more shallow. Green eyes cracked open and hazily looked up into his devastated face, a faint smile quirking the edges of her lips even as blood stained them red.

"Father…" Her voice was faint and raspy, a mere whisper all but lost on the battlefield. "Father…"

"Flayn, don't – don't speak, I'm going to heal you. You are going to be fine. Just fine." Seteth's voice shook as he attempted the spell once more, only for the light of his magic to fizzle out.

"I love you… Father…" Her eyes slipped closed one final time, her chest stilling.

Seteth's uncontrollable wails of anguish echoed across the battlefield as he collapsed atop his unmoving daughter, his voice swiftly turning raw yet showing no signs of stopping.

His grief was silenced moments later when a sword speared him through the back, the wicked blade unerringly burrowing deeply within his heart.

0-0

Byleth's eyes flickered restlessly beneath closed lids, face twisted in pain as her hands unconsciously clawed at the sheets beneath her. Her pulse quickened as images and emotions continued to assault her, her chest tightening even as she began gasping for breath. She was vaguely aware of someone trying to speak to her, though all she could discern was that the voice was male.

Cichol?

No.

No, it couldn't be Cichol.

Cichol was…

But who else…?

"…eth! …up …yleth! Byleth!"

Byleth snapped awake with a gasp and shot up in bed so fast she would have tilted over if not for the large steadying hands on her shoulders. One hand rising to hold her swimming head, she closed her eyes and breathed for a moment before cracking them open and looking at the figure kneeling on the floor beside her.

"Dad…?" She rasped in abject confusion.

"Goddess, kid, I think you just shaved the last few years of my life off," Jeralt swore under his breath as he stared into feverishly bright eyes. Eyes that last he had seen were a cobalt blue - as was her hair - but both of which were now a luminous light green.

Jeralt's heart hammered in his chest, while his expression came to a rest somewhere between the picture of fatherly concern and staring at a ghost.

His daughter had never looked so much like her mother as she did in that moment, and he couldn't help but think back to the last memory he had of his wife. Of Sitri's green eyes wide and bright with pain as she smiled at him bravely, her equally green hair wet and limp with sweat as the midwife ushered him out of the room.

"Don't…" Byleth snapped through gasped breaths. "Don't joke… about that…"

"Okay, okay. Easy there By," Jeralt snapped back to the present and tried to soothe his suddenly irate daughter, though he was internally taken aback at the emotion present in her voice. Just what had happened to her in the week since they'd seen each other? "Just breathe. Calm down - and breathe."

Byleth ignored her father – if he was her father and not simply a fever dream – and attempted to get out of bed.

"Hey, woah there," Jeralt easily pressed her back down into the bed despite her weak struggling attempts to throw him off. "Easy there, Byleth. It was just a dream."

"If only," Byleth growled weakly, her eyes sliding away from her father's worried face to flit swiftly across the room. She stilled suddenly.

It wasn't the familiar quarters she shared with Seiros within Garreg Mach that met her wandering eyes.

No.

But her surroundings were achingly familiar all the same.

If this were still a dream…

"Where are we?" Byleth asked abruptly. Her feverish gaze sharpening as green eyes bored into concerned brown with an unexpected intensity.

"We – we're in your rooms at Garreg Mach," Jeralt's concerned frown grew, one of his hands resting briefly against the sweat-soaked skin of her forehead. "Have you been like this all night? You're burning up."

"I'm fine," Byleth stated dismissively, one of her hands reaching up to grab a lock of hair. It was green, as it should be, but if they were in Garreg Mach, and her father was there…

Byleth pinched her arm, sharp nails digging into the soft skin - but it wasn't enough. She had to be absolutely certain. She winced as the sting grew sharper as her grip kept tightening, tiny pinpricks of blood flowing from under her nails.

"Stop that – Byleth, what is going on-," Jeralt grasped both of her hands, stopping her from injuring herself any further. "Talk to me, kid."

Physical pain…

And she didn't wake up.

Then there was a chance that this was…

Byleth stared at Jeralt silently for a long moment before opening her mouth. What came out wasn't an explanation, however, but another question.

"What year is it?"

"By-,"

"This is important," Byleth stressed, cutting off who she was starting to believe was actually her father. In the flesh. Alive.

And that meant that everyone else was…

That she was…

She had to know.

"What year is it, what month –? Please." Byleth's voice cracked with emotion as she pleaded. "I need to know."

Jeralt was stunned, but after another anguished 'please' he managed to get his voice to work once more. "Year 1180, Harpstring Moon. I was worried when you didn't show up for breakfast-,"

Byleth's eyes unfocused as she thought back to her time as a fresh-faced professor. She vaguely remembered having weekly meetings with her father in the earlier months until their respective jobs had begun taking up more and more of their time.

"You're sick and need to rest-," Jeralt continued unimpeded, already mentally mapping the fastest route to get her to Manuela – or would it be better to bring the woman to his daughter?

Byleth's eyes refocused on her father's face.

Her father.

She had always been fond of her father, even when her emotions were muted to the point just above complete apathy. It was only as he lay dying on the ground, his blood seeping out of him at a rapid pace, did her slowly deepening emotional awareness give her the clarity to peg the slight heaviness in her chest for what it was.

And what it was, was plain and simple.

It was love.

That feeling had paled in comparison to the floodgates of sorrow her merge with Sothis had subjected her to after his death, however; her grief eclipsing anything she had ever felt to that point and leaving her catatonic for days.

She had thought that she had experienced the very depths of her grief and rage after his death, that she could truly feel no worse.

She had been so very, very wrong.

But now.

Now she was able to feel freely - and here he was so very much alive.

They were all alive.

Her emotions were still too chaotic and far too close to the surface after her recent experiences, and she couldn't stop her eyes from overflowing with tears.

"I love you," Byleth blurted out suddenly, hand scrubbing weakly at her stinging eyes. "I just – I need you to know that I love you."

Because by the time the words had formed in her throat the last time, it had been too late.

"I love you too, Byleth," Jeralt's hands twitched uselessly at his sides, his broad form shifting uncertainly as he debated whether he should chance leaving his daughter alone long enough to get the healer – any healer – or scoop her up into his arms and protect her from whatever was afflicting her through shear willpower alone. "But you're talking like you're dying, kid, and it's really starting to scare me."

"No, not me," Byleth took a shuddering breath as she tried to calm down. She couldn't afford to fall apart just yet, at least not while there were so many things to do. So many plans to make. "Not now, at least."

"Not ever. I forbid it." Jeralt scowled sternly. "Do you hear me, Byleth? You are not allowed to die."

The shadow of a bittersweet smile crept across Byleth's face; similar words echoed through her mind, having been spoken to her once before by the one who held her heart. She had broken her promise the first time around, though admittedly it was through no fault of her own. But this was a second chance to get things right, and she was not going to squander it.

Not with the image of Seiros's still-beating heart being torn from her chest as she watched on in helpless horror, the sound of her wife's dying gasp echoing in her ears like a thunderclap as she arrived on the scene mere moments too late.

"I hear you," Byleth murmured as she absently trailed her fingers through her hair, attempting to comb the damp mess into a semblance of normality. She hadn't worn her hair so short in years… It would take forever to grow out again.

Jeralt's eyes followed the movement with uncertainty. "I don't know if you've noticed, but your hair and eyes have…" He trailed off, the words getting stuck in his throat.

Byleth stared at her worried father, a false sense of calm finally settling within her as she accepted that this was real; that she and Sothis had actually turned back the clock over two centuries when before she could barely manage a few hours without the risk of being laid out for days.

There was the matter of said Goddess' silence, but from her current appearance she could assume that they were already merged.

But that presented another issue altogether. She was different, and not just in appearance. Her father wasn't stupid – far from it – and she could already tell that her behaviour since waking had thrown him off kilter.

There was also the small matter of the rest of the monastery's occupants to worry about.

So how much should she tell him? Them?

How much was she willing to?

And yet, with how things turned out the first time, could she really afford to keep them in the dark?

No.

At least, not all of them.

Sei- Rhe- She needed to know what was coming, as did Seteth and Flayn.

Her father… She had to tell her father something, and she dearly wanted to believe she could trust him with the knowledge that she carried.

But… not yet.

There were too many variables in play.

What she needed was time. Time to mourn the world and lives that she had lost, and time to plan how to stop those very lives from being lost once again.

It was ironic, then, that despite her power over time, she still seemed to be constantly running out of it.

She felt her tumultuous mess of emotions gnawing at her veneer of calm, and swiftly came to a decision. Her green orbs focused once more on her father.

"Father, I… I need a favor."

Jeralt studied his daughter for a long moment, before slowly nodding, his voice gruff but ringing with sincerity. "You can ask me anything."

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