-1170 Harpstring Moon-

._._._._._.

"Stephen," Jeralt greeted. His technically second-in-command (well, the man jumped in and handled things when Jeralt had to be a dad or took on small jobs) hummed from his spot on top of a crate beside the stables. Clearly, the beige haired man patiently waited from him to show up. Stephen didn't look up from the wood he carved in his hand.

"Ah, welcome back, Jer," he greeted back as he dusted off the top of it. It was a pretty flower, Jeralt noted. "How was your little job with that one noble a town or so over?"

"It paid enough," Jeralt said as he leaned against a wall next to him, "How's the gang?"

Stephen hummed as he shaved a corner, "Hmmmm, lil' antsy if you ask me. Don't get me wrong, Jer, but we've been here for a while now. Remire village is nice and all, but I think we took enough time from that last job we had. Don't you think it's time for a new one?"

Jeralt said nothing to that. Stephen bothered to look at him and pointed his carving knife at him, "That, and your girl's getting really teased out there. I offered to train her while you were out, but you know what she said?"

He suddenly straightened up and gave Jeralt the flattest face he could possibly manage, "'You are not my dad.'"

Jeralt cracked a smile at that. He did expect his little girl to be that way. She had a very simple focus. Honestly, Jeralt wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing. He didn't know the first thing about raising a kid, but Byleth was never a normal one to begin with.

"Seriously, I've never met a kid that deadpans like her. Wish my sibs could meet her; they'd really join her bandwagon of one-hit liners," Stephen ranted. He twirled the wooden carving in his hand with a wary grin, "Your girl's a very serious one."

"She certainly is," Jeralt agreed.

"Anyway, there's a bit of a bandit situation not far from here. Remire village isn't equipped to handle that. We should take care of it before we go."

"There's no gold from doing that, Steph."

When Jeralt looked at him, Stephen had already went back to his little flower carving. Honestly, Jeralt half wished the man hadn't joined his mercenary band. At the heart of it, Stephen was a craftsman, a diligent and resilient man. A boy that matured in months and had seen far too many battles to earn gold to debts that were never his.

Stephen shrugged, "We always come back here, Jer. It wouldn't be right if we just left them to be attacked."

Jeralt nodded, "Alright. There's some gold—"

"Nah, Jer," Stephen interrupted as he waved a hand in the air, "Keep it. I can handle my own problems."

Jeralt wanted to frown, but the smile on his second-in-command's face was infectious. He sighed and shook his head with a small grin of his own, "Alright, if you say so. Where's the rest of the gang?"

"I'll tell them," Stephen said as he jumped off the crate. He really didn't look his age with that endless energy he had. "You need to see your daughter first."

"Thanks, Steph."

"Yeah, yeah - save it for when it's really needed, Jer!"

._._._._._.

In the early morning, before her father left with his mercenary band, Byleth met them outside of the inn. She clung to the edge of Jeralt's shirt and stared right at him with her blank eyes.

"Take me with you."

Jeralt stared down at her with slightly wide eyes. She stared right back.

They stood there for quite sometime as the mercenaries watched from a good distance. They knew at this point to let Jeralt handle it.

Byleth could tell that her father was assessing her. She was pretty sure Jeralt thought back to that one incident where she followed them from a distance, and fell out of tree by accident that day. That was a foolish mistake she wouldn't do again. Hence why she asked him directly instead of following at a distance.

It was an added plus that she knew her way around a sword - well, the wooden one. She just got her own iron sword for her birthday a few days ago. It was strapped to her own belt already, and she had gotten used to the weight at her side. So, if anything were to happen, she would be fine.

Jeralt sighed and suddenly looked a little older than before. He turned his to his the closest mercenary by him, "Stephen— once the fighting starts, you'll hang in the back with my kid. Got that?"

Byleth was amazed that the mercenary could splutter and snort in one sound. Stephen rubbed his nose and glanced at her with a nod, "Yeah, sure, Jer. But, ah, you sure about that? She's still a tiny one."

Oh Byleth did narrow her gaze at him.

"That's exactly why she's staying with you," Jeralt huffed, and Stephen looked highly offended if the look on his face was anything to go by. Jeralt turned to Byleth and gave her a brief pat on her head, "You got that, By?"

"Yes, Jeralt."

Jeralt looked at her for a moment longer before he turned to his mercenary band, "Alright, let's get this over with!"

._._._._._._.

When the battle started, Byleth did stay in the back with Stephen. The older man definitely kept her out of harms way, and completely out of sight with a convenient bush, but she watched him in slight awe. The way he danced with two different blades in his hands was vastly different from others she had seen. No matter what he did, he swung with certainty. Not a single movement was wasted.

She could tell that he had trained with her father so many times in the past. He quickly parried any lances and dove in for the kill.

It burned into her memory. How he would strike with a sword, then follow up with the shorter one. How he bent his body to swiftly dodge and retaliate. She watched as the blood spilled on the ground and she wasn't fazed. She had seen it before.

Faintly, she noticed that it probably wasn't a good thing to be used to.

"Shit!"

Stephen's sudden curse broke her from her reverie. A bandit with an axe stepped up to the mercenary, whose blades was locked in a stale mate with his enemy. His axe was high in the air and Byleth knew that Stephen couldn't dodge.

Byleth burst out of the bushes and her sword rang as she drew it.

The bandit's back was completely unprotected and Byleth swung in an arc. Her sword sang its sweet song, as it cut the air and sank into her target. There were different shouts from various directions, and Byleth could only pick out the pained grunt of Stephen. She looked up, only to see a bandit swing their sword at her.

A quick, yet faint thought crossed her mind. Why was it Stephen's enemy?

With a quick blink, Byleth didn't dare to hesitate.

She was small and a child.

Everyone always underestimated a child.

With a tight grip of her sword in one hand, she rolled out of the way of the sword coming at her. She ignored the way the grass poked her arms, rubbed against her elbows, and how the ground was still soft from the recent rain a few days ago. She partially straightened herself the moment her feet landed on the ground, and shot forward. Her sword slipped passed the armor they wore and sunk deeply. The guttural cry they made didn't make her flinch.

It was almost as if time had stopped, and for a moment, Byleth could swear she hear the sounds of the war in the back of her head.

Her enemy towered over her, completely haunched over in pain. Their fists clenched and unclenched, as if they wanted to grab her and choke her, but they couldn't lift them higher than her shoulder. She quietly stepped back and took her blade with her.

The body fell with a heavy thud and a pained gurgle.

Red painted around her, soaking into the ground.

She eyes trailed another set of red not far from her. From the bandit's sword to the red of Stephen's neck. The other bandit's axe to Stephen's back.

Byleth didn't scream, didn't gasp.

Instead, her feet moved on her own. They carried her to the downed mercenary, and she fell to her knees. Her sword dropped at her side and her hands hovered over the man before she pulled away.

This was all her fault.

She barely knew Stephen much, but her father had always trusted him. She knew he often came to check on her; fed her and put her to bed when Jeralt wasn't around for a few days at a time. He offered to train her a few times, but she never took it up.

Maybe she should've taken that offer.

"Byleth…?" The voice was airy and weak. She stared into the hazel eyes of the dying man in front of her. He wore a quivering smile and shakily lifted a hand to smear away the blood that landed on her face. "'m sor-ry— Wasn't strong—enough."

Byleth said nothing, but she held the hand to her face. His hand was warm.

Just like Beles, just like Jeralt.

"I couldn't— protect you."

"You did," Byleth said suddenly, "You did, you did, you did."

Stephen's smile shook a little more, "No, I— I couldn't— protect you— from this. I'm sorry."

It was only when he glanced at the downed bandits did she understand his meaning. She did frown when she looked down. Stephen couldn't protect her from taking matters in her own hands.

…But wasn't that what she, as a mercenary-to-be, had to do? What she asked her father to teach her so she could be by her father's side? Because she was scared from the possibility of never reuniting with her father after days of being separated?

"Hey—hey— By—" he called to her as his voice cracked and blood trailed from the edge of his lips. Byleth tore her own gaze from her sword and looked at him. His hazel eyes carried a sadness deeper than what she could understand. "You drew— your sword for— a reason. Was… was it hea-vy?"

She glanced at her sword.

It wasn't, she wanted to say, but her mouth moved before she noticed, "Yes."

Stephen's fading voice drew her back to him, "Don't ever forget… that this weight…is the choice you…"

Byleth only held his hand a little harder as the words died from his throat, and the words on his lips still moved.

She read them easily.

"— decide to carry or not."

Byleth closed her eyes when she felt the hand in her grip grow limp.

She ignored how her clothes began to feel damp, how her throat closed up, and how her eyes stung. She didn't understand what Stephen said, but it burned and burned and burned into her memory. What did he mean by weight? By choice? Her sword?

Her mind didn't understand it, but somewhere, she already felt what it meant. She was almost afraid to pick up her sword.

Byleth didn't move from her place until she heard her name.

"Byleth!"

She finally opened her eyes again to see Jeralt kneeling at her side with a deep frown on his face. It was different from the other frowns.

"Byleth…" Jeralt began, but Byleth cut him off.

"He protected me, but not himself."

She slowly stood up and picked up her sword. Byleth stared at it.

Why did it feel so heavy?

"Byleth." Jeralt's firm, but gentle voice pulled her attention back to him. His eyes held the same sadness as Stephen's.

"I'll be…" Byleth stopped, unsure to lie or not. As she gripped her sword a little tighter in her hands, she straightened her back, "I'll be okay."

"Byleth, I can see it in your eyes. You're not okay."

Jeralt held her arms gently in his hands. "What happened?"

Byleth stared at him for a moment before her lips spilled the entire story; of how Stephen moved, how he was certain, of how she didn't see him fall. She muttered about how her felt her sword cut into her enemies, how warm blood felt on her skin. She told him of Stephen's last words.

Her father ran a hand through her hair as she spoke.

"Why," she asked him as she finished, "why did he say that?"

Jeralt took a moment to close the sightless eyes of Stephen's and gathered her in his arms. Byleth half hugged him with an arm as her other still clung to her sword. She buried her face in the crook of her father's neck. She felt his throat rumble as he spoke.

"It's something I told him a long time ago," Jeralt began, "When you fight someone, they have their own reasons for fighting. Knights, bandits, mercenaries like me and Steph… Sometimes, your enemy won't let you get away without a scratch. It's times like those you have to kill before you get killed."

Jeralt never stopped rubbing her back.

"Taking a life… is a heavy burden. And we can choose whether to let it weigh us down, or not. But that doesn't mean to forget about them. Fights like these have two sides, and nothing but violence. Sometimes one wins, or both dies for reasons they fight for. Stephen had his reasons, and he was prepared to die for it. That is the cost for everyone."

Byleth was silent. Jeralt never spoke for this long.

"I…" Byleth began as her grip on her sword loosened. Her father rested his hand on her own, gently helping her hold it in place.

"It's a lot to think about, By. But never forget, you have your own reasons to fight. Just like I have mine."

Byleth finally lifted her head from his shoulder. She stared into his eyes and he stared right back. She thought about his words, and oddly enough she thought of Jeralt.

She thought of Sothis.

She thought of Beles.

The sword still felt heavy, but she nodded to herself, "I… I have my own reasons."

Jeralt gave her a light kiss to her face before holding her close. Byleth did not cry as her father began to walk away from the battle grounds. Faintly, she heard him mutter so quietly.

"Thanks… Steph."

Maybe….

Just maybe she shouldn't have asked to join today.

._._._._._.

"I killed someone today."

Byleth said it so bluntly that the look that Beles gave her almost made her want to take it back. His eyes were wide, and his mouth dropped a bit. He reached over to hold her arm. He eyed her up and down, as if to search for something.

"I'm not hurt."

He frowned. Byleth silently wished that Sothis was awake. Their guardian wasn't that good at reading Beles' emotions, but she was very vocal about it. Right now, it was hard to tell what Beles thought.

"The bandits killed someone I knew."

Byleth blinked at her own words. She didn't mean to say that, but she kept going.

"I... couldn't save him. I wanted to. That's why I killed the bandits. I took their lives to save his. Why did he have to die?"

Beles moved his hand to her head, holding her face. When Byleth blinked, she suddenly saw Stephen.

It almost startled her.

She reached up and grabbed his hand into her own. Beles made a small noise at her grip, but she didn't care. Instead, she forced the image of Stephen out of her head and looked right into those vibrant green eyes.

"Beles—" Her voice shook. She remembered the blood that split at the edge of lips. She remembered the blood that soaked the ground. She remembered the shuddering voice of Stephen's.

"Don't leave me."

She said it so firmly. The confusion that showed in Beles' face didn't make any sense to her, but she had to say it.

"Don't leave me."

She remembered the guttural cries of those bandits. How they yelled as they killed someone she knew. How they fell from her blade.

"Don't leave me."

It burned, and burned, and burned into her memory.

"Don't lea-ve me."

Beles stared at her a little longer, and leaned closer, resting his forehead against his. He took in a breath and moved his lips, his voice cracking in every place.

"I won't."

And just like that, the heavy weight that pulled her down lifted by a little. When she looked into Beles' eyes, she knew where some of that weight went.

Stephen's words came haunting her back.

"Don't forget that this weight is the choice you decide to carry or not."

She never thought she could feel so guilty before.

She never meant to through half of it on him. He didn't deserve this at all.

Jeralt's words gently whispered in her ears, "Never forget, you have your own reasons to fight. Just like I have mine."

Byleth breathed and covered Beles' hands with her own, "Don't ever leave me, Beles."

The edge of Beles' lips twitched and stretched to a soft, gentle smile.

"I won't leave you, Byleth."

She never thought she could feel so assured before.

And Byleth was fine with that.

._._._._._._.

"Hey, you! Fight me!"

Byleth closed her eyes for a long moment before she turned her flat gaze at the girl before her. Sothis gazed curiously at the other girl with a lazy hand on her chin.

"Hey, isn't this the girl you told me about? The one you basically beat to the ground?" Sothis asked. Byleth deliberately ignored her to avoid being judged by the other girl in front of her. She pushed her to the ground, not beat. There was a difference.

"No."

"Coward!" the girl responded immediately. Byleth didn't roll her eyes as she began to walk away.

"W-wait! Hold on!" A hand that gripped at her wrist forced Byleth to stop in place.

"Let me go," Byleth demanded. The girl scowled.

"Ugh, no! I will not!" she snapped. Her grey eyes were unusually sharp as she stared right into Byleth's. The girl glared at her for a moment longer, before she looked away. "I heard about what happened the other day."

Byleth did not frown.

"And, I heard you were leaving tomorrow, and I…" the girl trailed off, unsure how to continue. Byleth closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself.

"Breathe, Byleth, breathe," Sothis gently reminded her.

So, she did.

The girl finally let her go and crossed her arms, "I just… wanted to say I'm sorry. For that mercenary, and—"

"His name was Stephen," Byleth nearly bit out. She vaguely felt Sothis place a hand on her shoulder. It was grounding enough to remind Byleth to stay calm. The memory was still fresh in her mind.

The girl frowned guiltily.

"Stephen," she echoed, "I'm sorry about what happened."

Byleth slowly blinked, "If… that's all you really wanted to say, then why?"

"What?"

"Why did you challenge me to fight you?" Byleth clarified.

The girl faltered, "…I… I just didn't know how to approach you."

Byleth did not frown.

"I see." She turned around again. Jeralt was waiting for her to come back from her walk around town. She intended to use the time to ease her nerves, but it only made her restless. She wasn't ready to travel to Stephen's hometown to return him home in ashes. It was…. a painful thought.

"W-wait!"

Byleth didn't stop, but the girl ran in front of her with her arms spread out.

"Huh, she's almost as persistent as that Carrol boy," Sothis observed. Byleth wanted to huff at the absurdity of that statement. There was no way this girl was the same way.

"I'm sorry!" the girl yelled, "I'm sorry I accused you for hurting my brother! I'm sorry I said you didn't care! I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you!"

Byleth was startled at the outburst, and it only showed by the fraction of her eyes being wider than usual.

There was an awkward silence that filled the space between them. Well, that was until the girl stuttered.

"In… I-in a way… I blame myself for what happened the other day, and I shouldn't have pushed you away." She dropped her hands to her side. "If… I had been nicer to you, you would've stayed, here with us."

Byleth clenched her fist, "That doesn't change anything. I still wanted to go."

"Byleth…" Sothis touched the ground to stand next to her, "Do not blame yourself. It was never your fault to begin with."

The girl looked at Byleth with pressed lips. It didn't seem like she had anything else to say, so Byleth resumed her walk. Sothis stayed beside her, but her feet made no noise.

Of course it didn't. Byleth was the only one who could see her.

She only passed her by a few steps before the girl called out to her again.

"Hey!"

Byleth stopped for the umpteenth time, but didn't turn around. Annoyance snapped at her. When will this girl just leave her alone? She was already frustrated with herself.

"Byleth," the girl said firmly behind her, "That's your name, right?"

She didn't say anything.

"When you come back again, let me make it up to you."

"For what?" Byleth asked, dead and uncaring.

The answer came immediately, "To set things right between us. Will you let me?"

Both Sothis and Byleth looked back. They could see how serious the girl was: her back straight, and her eyes oddly determined.

Byleth leveled her with a stare, "If I come back."

With that, she turned on her heel and finally made her way to the inn. If she looked back once more, she would've noticed Sothis smiling a little.

"Honestly," her guardian huffed behind her, "What am I going to do with you, Byleth?"

Byleth could hear the amusement in her voice, and just faintly, a smile tugged on her lips, too. Her chest felt a little lighter, her steps were relieved, and she knew—

Despite the burning memory of her sword tearing into her enemies and the pale face that stared back at her-

Everything will be alright.

She had Jeralt to follow.

She had Sothis to watch her.

She had Beles to watch over.

And maybe she had someone here, too, waiting for her to come back - safe and sound.