Your Emblem

by Cosmic Sky

For the longest time, Byleth had few things to which he could say his identity was tied to, then came along the Crest of Flames. With it came a number of questions that he didn't know he'd ever ask, and answers he'd search for. He'd find them in some unlikely places, a journey that he never expected to undertake. At the end of it all, he'd have an answer, and an identity.

Hey, everyone. This here is another Three Houses One-Shot, a tad earlier than expected, but I'm getting some plot bunnies out. Symbols and emblems have always been of interest to me, in Three Houses that interest got a kick out of Crests and how for all intents and purposes they functioned as personal and organizational emblems. In the Silver Snow Route that's played truer than other routes given the Resistance army rallies under the Crest of Flames, whose design I love, thus, here we are. Yep, another story that takes place on the Silver Snow Route, and yes, it does tie into my previous Byleth/Rhea fics. This is going to be something of a character study of Byleth, be prepared for some headcanons are coming. Now then, enjoy!

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Your Emblem

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"Did mother have the Crest of Flames like me? Is that where I got it from?"

Jeralt blinked in shock at his only son. Byleth stared back at him with his usual blank gaze, but there was something a little different about it. Something about it made Jeralt feel like his son wasn't going to let this conversation go, though he could certainly try. They'd just wrapped up their training for the day, but he could easily challenge him to keep on going. Father and son had done it before, countless times in fact. Training from noon to night, only taking small breaks between the sparring sessions, both of them too concentrated on each other to truly pay attention how day turned to night above their heads. That's how they'd bonded as father and son. He could try to turn this sparring session into another one of those, but something in his gut told him that such a thing wouldn't work. Byleth would most likely ask the question again, and again, and again. Worse, he'd likely make a wager with him, like if he won a sparring bout he'd have to answer his question.

Byleth had done it before, several times, and several times he'd gotten the answer to his question. Once his boy became determined, his fighting ability already incredible on its own, seemingly doubled or even tripled.

As much as Jeralt would have liked to do that, he realized it could backfire on him. Byleth fighting determinedly would mean he would use what he'd been learning, what he'd spent the last five hours with him learning how to do-channel the power of his Crest. His Crest was the strongest Crest there was, the Crest of the Goddess.

The cold sweat that ran down his brow wasn't from the fierce workout that he'd worked up from the sparring match. He looked away in an attempt to feign not being raddled by his child's question. "You seem awfully curious about Crests, don't you?"

"Well, I'm in-charge of teaching Fódlan future leaders and warriors how to fight, and for those bearing Crests, teaching them how to use them falls into my lap as well." Stabbed his sword into the ground, he shrugged his shoulders and fixed him with a hard stare. "On top of that, I have a Crest, one that's apparently the strongest and rarest of them all. I have to learn how to start using it, otherwise what's the point?"

Jeralt raised an eyebrow at that. "Exactly where did you learn about your Crest in the first place?"

"Professor Hanneman." He responded. His father gave a short chuckle, that was probably the most obvious answer he could have given, aside from the Archbishop herself or some of the Church members. "His monocle nearly broke and his jaw practically hit the floor when he confirmed what my Crest was using his fine tuned register." There was a pregnant pause as his brow knitted. "If I hadn't told him I had a class to teach he probably would have kept me in his office all afternoon trying to figure it out."

"He didn't happen to have an operating table in there, did he?"

"I'm pretty sure if he didn't have one hidden away, he'd have conjured one up." Jeralt might have been imaging it, but he could have sworn he saw something of a small smile. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it, but something about it felt more noticeable. "Personally, I would have like to learn more…but I'm not up for it being with me strapped to an operating table or in some old dusty room. Urgh, on that note, if I had to do the latter then I would prefer for it to be in a library."

"You're really interested in learning about your Crest, aren't you?" The dirty blond remarked, his lance laid atop his shoulder.

"It's another asset for me to learn how to use." Byleth responded in his trademark direct voice. Jeralt could picture some shrieking in horror at how…blasé his son was being about his Crest. Faerghus natives on the other hand would probably be more sympathetic, his attitude regarding his Crest would have meshed well with the warrior class of Faerghus. Jeralt actually felt it was a shame that he'd chosen to teach the Black Eagles instead of the Blue Lions, he believed his son would have found himself a better fit for them than the youth of Adrestia. "You still haven't answered my question, Father."

He's not going to let this go. The former knight mused. "What makes you think that the Crest came from your mother, kid?"

"Because you already have a Crest…and something just tells me that it came from her side of the family." He calmly answered.

Jeralt felt himself wanting to whistle in amusement. His son was as sharp as any sword he's wielded, maybe even sharper. "So…you finally noticed, huh?"

Byleth shrugged his shoulders. "It wasn't until we came to Fódlan and I learned what Crests were that I was able to start putting the pieces together." His blue eyes subtly moved between his arms, arms that he'd seen exhibit at times inhuman strength. He'd always suspected that maybe such strength hadn't come from simply training or some unnatural yet natural gift of birth, well, it might have been the latter. Crests were apparently passed down through blood. "So, am I right or wrong?" Byleth pressed, not showing a hint of irritation at the lack of an answer from his father.

But Jeralt had a feeling that might change if he tried to keep on dodging the question, especially if he got aggressive about it. Sighing, he looked up to the evening sky. It'd be dark in a couple of hours with the stars and moon doing their part to illuminate the night. Goddess, this is one conversation that I knew I'd have to have with him, but damn is it still going to be tough. Heaving out a sigh, he sat down on the grass, his son following suit. "Your intuition's sharp as always, kid. Yeah, your mother had the Crest of Flames, it came from her side of the family."

His eyes lit up at not just the confirmation of his theory, but also the information about his mother. Jeralt had never told him much of the woman who'd birthed him into this world, a decision that Jeralt had occasionally wrestled with. Everything in his gut told him he was going to be wrestling with it a lot more over the next coming months, especially when Byleth's birthday as well as the anniversary of his wife's death rolled by.

"Her side of the family," he heard his son repeat, his voice giving way to the contemplation he was undergoing. "What was her side of the family like? Are they still alive? Do I have any-"

"No, no, it was…just her." Cut off the gruff man. "Well, she had…siblings, but they all died."

"Were any of them Crest bearers like her?" He immediately asked.

"Hoping they could teach you?"

"More or less." Byleth responded before shrugging his shoulders. "If they're unavailable, I suppose I'll make do with what is available."

Jeralt's barking laughter ripped through the forest clearing that they'd been using as their sparring ground. It ideal for them-secluded giving them their privacy, and their space. When they sparred, the father-son duo tended to gradually ramp things up until they were practically throwing their full force at one another. For Jeralt, it was how he kept himself sharp, and for Byleth, it was how he improved. "What's available." The former repeated once his laughter quieted down. "Gee, I suppose I should say I'm grateful to be included in that grouping. You've seen it manifest a couple of times, haven't you? Why didn't you ever ask me about it, about my Crest?"

The Ashen Demon looked down, his expression apprehensive. "I've thought about it…plenty of times, I…always wondered if you'd been enhanced by magic somehow but just never told anyone, not even me. I always felt that if I tried to talk to you about it, you'd find a way to dodge the question, so I just held off on it." Byleth's eyes found his, and when they did, there was a firmness in that that Jeralt recognized as his son's determination manifesting. It was both encouraging and troubling. "Now that we're here at the Monastery with the Knights of Seiros, I feel like I can finally talk to you about it. You can't exactly run away from it."

Yet again, Jeralt laughed. "Guilty." That was his son, stoic on the surface, but with a sharp eye that picked up on irregularities; rather or not he spoke of them was another story. Byleth knew there was a time and a place for every question, ad he knew how to be patient. "So, you want me to teach you how to use your Crest's power, huh?"

"You've…always taught me, even when I became able to stand on my own." Came his surprisingly quiet and even nervous reply.

Smiling, the Blade Breaker reached over and rustled his son's hair, something he hadn't done in ages. He tried not to do it in public for a number of reasons, but when they were alone like this, Jeralt felt he could indulge himself and his son. "Hey, I'm your combat instructor as well as your father. It's what I do, and I'll try to do for as long as I can, even while you're doing the former to others."

"Think I could get you to come in and teach a class at some point?" Half-heartedly asked the blue-haired swordsman.

Jeralt again laughed, "And get you out of doing your job of teaching? Fat chance!"

It was a half-smile, one that he was sure dozens at the Monastery would have given a few pennies to see. His son's reputation as the Ashen Demon had been verified to many, several of whom had attempted to elect some emotionally response from him. From what Jeralt understood, some had met with success while others had failed, quite hard in some cases. Jeralt imagined those people would have given anything to see his son's expression at the moment, even if it only lasted for a couple of seconds to a full-on minute at best.

"Rhea told me that mother was a nun." He spoke after his face went back to its usual stoic expression. His gaze drifted to the sword that lay at his side, then to the spear that Jeralt had positioned over his lap. Byleth looked back down at the grass, perhaps trying to figure out the best way to vocalize the thoughts taking shape within his head. As usual, his father was patient in allowing him to do so. "The Crest of the Goddess…it can be used…outside of combat, can't it?"

"Without a doubt. It's one of those Crests with…well, scholars claim it's the only one with truly infinite potential as it comes from the Goddess herself. It's the most powerful Crest there is." This wasn't exactly a topic he felt himself an expert on discussing, but for the sake of his son before him, Jeralt was going to give it his best shot. Besides, a part of him felt he owed it to his late wife, who'd have given anything to see their son as he was now. "Your mother…Sitri, she…she used her Crest to heal those she could, even though her body could only handle so much."

"Heal," he repeated having focused on that one word. Byleth was a warrior, so the concept of medical care, especially healing magic, was a foreign concept to him.

"Hey, don't look to me for that. As you know, I'm better at the…opposite." Stated the branded-haired warrior. Times like this, he well and truly wished his wife was still here with them. Surely Sitri would have been able to handle this better, but she wasn't here. It was just Jeralt, and he was just going to have to wing it as best he could. Sighing, he leaned back, his hands on his knees and his posture somewhat tense. "I'll do my best to teach you how to do what guys like us do best, but using it to heal and protect? Well…urgh, you'll…"

"Probably have to ask Lady Rhea, right?" Byleth answered for him.

"Yeah, you remember what I said about her?"

He nodded. Call it a hunch, but Jeralt had a gut feeling that it was now his son who wasn't telling all that he knew. Jeralt supposed he couldn't really hold it against him since Byleth had likely learned from him. Quietly, he held out his hand and concentrated. In the palm of his hand appeared an emerald effigy of his Crest, the Crest of Flames. Its verdant flame-like glow illuminated his face, and Jeralt's, both of them already silhouetted by the evening sun to their side. Though far apart in physical appearance, the look in their eyes affirmed the familial bond between them. Their eyes were those of seasoned warriors, men who'd seen countless battlefields and with them much death.

Staring into his son's illuminated eyes, Jeralt let out a heavy sigh while raising his own hand. Sparks went off around his palms as a new Crest shimmered into existence above his hand. "I never much liked doing this. Personally, I'd prefer to keep it a secret."

"That Crest seems awfully common in certain circles." The Ashen Demon noted.

"The Crest of Seiros? Well…let's just say that Saint Seiros' blood was passed onto…certain individuals, individuals whom were believed to be executors of her will and ideals. Obviously, the Adrestian Imperial Family is one, and the line of Archbishop of the Church is another." Plainly stated the reinstated knight captain. "As for me…well, I'll tell you, one day."

"…Would you tell me right now if I were to beat you in a spar?"

A gruff laugh ripped from the older man's lips. Gripping his lance, he rose to his full imposing height. Lightly tapping it against his shoulder, he spoke, "Don't get so cocky because you're learning how to channel your Crest's power, kid. You're still another ten years too early for you to knock me on my ass."

Reaching for his sword, he stood up and fixed the Blade Breaker with a stare. "I seem to recall having done exactly that a few times."

"Only two times, Byleth." Jeralt casually remarked. His lips slowly curved into a thin smile. "Thinking you can make it three?"

For an answer, he held up his sword-the Sword of the Creator-his eyes staring directly into his. Seconds later and the two former mercenaries had assumed fighting positions, then their weapons were clashing against one another, sparks once again flying. The sun continued to sink deeper beneath the horizon allowing the sky to become darker shades of blue and purple. Beneath the first stars, steel clashed against steel, and the occasional glow of a pair of Crests flashed. Unknown to the pair, they had a silent and unseen observer. She'd awoken from her slumber to witness the sparring match between father and son. It was the occasional surges of strength from the latter that had helped rouse her, and it was those surges that helped keep her awake to the very end of it, by which point a half moon had climbed high into the sky.

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"How did my mother use the Crest of Flames?"

The question caused Rhea's heart to skip a beat, her whole body freezing still as her pointed ears registered the question the academy's newest instructor had just asked. She blinked in naked shock as she stared at Professor Byleth Eisner.

He stared back at her with silent curiosity, which was customary for him. "I'm asking because…I'm…curious."

Slowly regaining her composure, Rhea put the tome she'd been reading from down and exhaled. "T-To ask such a question, Professor Eisner, that would mean that you-"

"Know that my mother wielded the same Crest as me? Yes, I do. I talked to my father about it last week." Byleth looked down at his side of the wooden desk. That he'd claimed for his own private space. Diagonally from him sat the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, having curved out time to come speak with him, to help him study. He was aware that he was pulling her away from her papal duties (which Seteth would no doubt lecture him on later), but he was happy that she'd made time for him. She seemed more willing to do that than what some might have called permissible. "He…didn't exactly give me many straight answers."

"Well, that's Jeralt. The topic if Sitri is…not one he likes speaking of, apparently not even to you, his and her child." Responded the green-haired woman with sorrow in her voice. Byleth had long since deduced that she'd known his mother, and likely knew things about her that Byleth never knew. It seemed that both of the two major adult figures in his life knew things about the woman who'd birthed him into the world, and didn't exactly seem to be in a hurry to tell him. At least not unless he asked. "To reaffirm what you already know, dear child, your mother did indeed possess the Crest of Flames. It was…a miracle bestowed upon her by the goddess. There were none more deserving of it than her." The shift in her demeanor was plainly obvious to Byleth, and it further confirmed that the Archbishop had known his mother in a personal sense. That made him all the more eager to get to know her, and find out everything she knew. When Rhea looked to him, she saw that eagerness shining in his eyes; she smiled at it. "Though her body was incredibly frail, she did what she could with her Crest. With its power, she was one of the Monastery's finest practitioners of white magic."

Her response caused his eyes to travel to the desk. "That's…what I figured."

Rhea's eyes further softened as she recognized the near slump that the black-clad teacher had fallen into. Secretly, she was rather surprised to see it. "Professor…Byleth, I do not believe your mother would be ashamed of how you have used your Crest. You've used it in service of the Church, and more importantly, to defend the lives of your students. All this acts I'm sure Sitri would have been proud of. Even more…I believe the goddess herself would approve." Her words were soft and gentle as they always were, but Byleth could sense a bit more to them.

She's got you there. At the very least you aren't out using my powers for some nefarious purposes. Chirped the goddess who was in fact the original owner of the Crest that had occupied his mind for the last several days. Honestly, I think you might be thinking a little too hard about this. It's not as if your mother was unaware of the potential of passing her Crest onto her child, who would be fathered by a warrior. As the Archbishop has said, she'd likely be happy you've used it so responsibly. I for one, am happy that you have.

Byleth's lips involuntarily twitched into a brief smile at the encouragement of the two green-haired women. The woman whom he sat with had no idea that her words were being reinforced by the very goddess whom she prayed to. He'd grown accustomed to this…funny feeling he'd call it, whenever he was in the presence of the Sothis-faithfully. None had any idea that the goddess whom they prayed to was bouncing around inside of his head, or rather, snoozing inside of it. As it happened, Sothis had awakened during the last ten minutes of this private study session which he'd shared with the Archbishop. His original intent had been to dig up any information on the Crest of Flames that he could find, and it'd yielded some results which he was thankfully for.

What really caught his attention though was the…power that he'd discovered the Crest of Flames wielded, and the reverence that naturally went with it. Byleth knew of the power aspect well-he'd used it to bend the flow of time to his will, an ability he'd diligently searched for, yet found little record of. Byleth pondered if that power of the Crest of Flames might have been unique to him, or if the information was being withheld from him. His eyes occasionally shifted to Rhea. If he asked her, would she be willing to divulge more information? Byleth felt tempted, but he held the question back, thinking it might have been a little too early to ask it. Besides, this woman probably had enough to think about, including the threat on her life.

He would have been lying if he didn't say that some of his research was for the express purpose of protecting her. Byleth had had clients and patrons before, Rhea was the latter more so than the former. It was her who'd made him a teacher, even going against the advice of her righthand. Much to his shock, he'd found that he…liked teaching. Sure, at times the students could be a bit of a handful, but he actually found something entertaining in their antics, even when those antics spelled over into classroom disruption. When they asked him questions, he felt an inclination to give his best answer to them. It was all possible thanks to the woman who sat across from him. He stared at her serene face with his passive stare; at some point he was expecting her to ask if anything was wrong, which was the typical response to his stares.

Silently, he raised his right index finger and concentrated. A second later and an emerald flame flickered into existence at his finger tip. It cast an emerald glow across the library, rivaling the orange luminesce of the candles they'd set up for their reading. "Could she manifest these flames like me?"

"Yes, she could." Rhea answered, her eyes fixated on the flame. Byleth recognized the look in them, familiarity and longing. She had a history with the gold-sprinkled green flames. "Small sparks such as this were…the most she could do. Though she hosted the goddess' power, her body was…not quite able to handle it. There were limits as to what she could do, she was always quietly frustrated at that, but she made do with what she could. Her will was strong, just like yours, Byleth." Slowly, she reached out and brushed the tips of her fingers against his gloved hand. The Ashen Demon felt a tickling sensation upon his skin, which confused him since he was wearing his gloves. He almost always wore them. What caught his attention though was how the small ember that he'd ignited at his fingertip burned brighter. It wasn't just a small flickering flame anymore, it was almost like fire and light mixed together. The radiance fully illuminated the corner of the library in which they'd take occupancy in.

The former mercenary's jaw fell open while the Archbishop smiled warmly at the light. She seemed transfixed by it. Unknown to her, she wasn't the only one.

Inching closer, the Goddess of Fódlan stared at the gold and green-colored light, the glow seeming resonated with her own spectral existence. This light…I have seen it before. Yes, I have…this radiance…the power of…Aether…it is…mine.

Sothis? Byleth called seeing the ghost's right hand begin to stretch out, her fingertip aimed at the glowing light that he and Rhea had created. The second her finger joined the union forming a trinity, the light's glow was magnified. He almost looked away, as did Rhea, yet neither retracted their hands. Together, the flaming mass of light grew brighter, practically forming into a loose torch of energy that whipped across the library. It was growing in both size and brightness. Only at the last second did Byleth realize that wasn't a good thing.

Feeling his heart pounding, he tore his finger away. "Get down!" he shouted at the Archbishop as the flaming torch began to shift through several forms, emerald embers rolling off of it before the entire thing imploded in a shower of fire and light sparkles. The Archbishop regained her wits just in time to shield her face with her hands. Byleth might have moved across the table, or over it, and thrown himself over her to protect her had he not watched over his arm as the sphere of energy finally began to dissipate. On sheer impulse, he grabbed for the text books and pushed them aside, not wanting any of the cascading embers to touch them thus cause a fire. For that matter, he felt worried about the wooden desk. "Shit." Byleth whispered watching some hit the wood, which naturally began to burn from the intense heat that they carried.

"I-It's alright!" Rhea's voice shouted, more than a little surprised. Her white-sleeved hand shot out and smoothed over the surface of the desk, the newly formed flames suddenly being smothered out. Byleth's keen eyes caught how the flames were quite literally extinguished, as if by water, or as he would later theorize, extreme cold. Afterward, she looked to him with a downcast face. "I-I-I'm so sorry, about that. I-I-I don't know what-"

"I'm the one who should apologize. I'm sorry. I couldn't control my Crest's power and I…almost caused a fire here." After putting the fire out, his first thought would have been to use Divine Pulse to turn back time a couple of seconds and stop himself. He shot an aside glance to the spectral entity beside him. Sothis?

The ghost was looking as startled as the two living individuals before her. I…I am here, and I…think it would be best we not attempt such a thing indoors, surrounded by so much flammable material.

Yeah, I agree with you on that one. His blue eyes scanned the desk for any more fires. There were a handful of dark patches that would probably require some repair work, but the damage wasn't too bad. Byleth sighed in partial frustration and partial relief. "I…think it's maybe for the best we call it a night. I don't want to accidentally set anything else on fire while I'm here. Has that ever happened before?" He asked after a momentary pause.

Byleth was happy his question seemed to get the Archbishop back in a good mood, she even laughed. "There have been a…few incidents. I'm thankfully to say the times when the library has been near burnt down has been few and far in-between. Besides, with me here, you'd have little to worry about, especially from Seteth. Professor By-"

"Byleth," he interrupted, then mentally kicked himself for doing so. "You can…just call me Byleth." Something inside of him stirred as she smiled at him, seemingly relieved that she was on the verge of accepting. "I mean…I call you Rhea when we're alone so…let's just drop the formalities with each other, if that's alright with you."

"I would be most happy to." She declared. "When in my private chambers, I would prefer it if you simply saw me as Rhea instead of as the Archbishop. It seems that you want the feeling to be mutual, which I must say, I would approve of." Thankfully, she was used to his extreme lack of facial expression. She'd probably learned to read his other body language as his father and his inner circle had. "Byleth Eisner, she repeated. Son of Jeralt and Sitri Eisner."

"He has the Crest of Seiros, same as you…and Edelgard." The swordsman stated. "He told me that Saint Seiros' blood was passed along to those she believed would best serve Fódlan."

"And that it has been, look no further than your father." Rhea responded with a smile.

"Even though he abandoned Fódlan?"

"He had his reasons, some of which I'm…sure he'll explain to you, someday." His stare continued to linger on it. In it, Rhea read the younger boy's thoughts. "His reasons are…understandable, Byleth. Even if he will not speak of them, he…did what he thought was best for you. Just be patient with him, Jeralt is a man who tends to keep his secrets close to his chest."

"He's always been like that; I've just learned to deal with it." There was no indication of how he felt about his father's secret-keeping. Byleth knew that everyone was different, people had different ways of doing things. When it came to his father, he could be as direct as a spear thrust, while at other times he could be as crafty as a fox and a s closed off as an oyster. Thinking on it, Byleth supposed he'd inherited some of those traits. After all, he tended to be blunt when talking to people, but he wasn't above keeping his fair share of secrets. One of his biggest secrets was floating behind him, she yawned signaling she was about to go back to sleep. "Honestly, that's another reason why I want to stay here at the Monastery. The longer that we stay here, the more secrets I think I can drag out of him."

"You sound more than a little eager to do that." Responded the Archbishop with a slight smile. "I've noticed you seem to enjoy puzzles, including people."

"And thriller novels." He nonchalantly added. His lips twitched as the Archbishop laughed. Personally, he thought she had a cute laugh, eve though he didn't normally pay attention to those sorts of things.

Buuut, it means something when you do. Snarked a feminine voice in his head.

"Well, I'm sure the library has a few of those. I could direct to some if you'd like."

"So, it seems like we do share some literary tastes." Byleth casually noted.

"Perhaps, maybe during one of these little meetings we could exchange notes." She seemed rather open to the idea, and Byleth didn't quite think it'd be too bad either. Going a step further, maybe he could find some way to drag her from her papal office and into one of the rooms that served as a meeting place for book clubs and whatnot. "Byleth, before you go…I want you to know that you've been blessed with a gift from the goddess, just like your mother. She used her gift to make the world a better place, limited as she was by her health. As for you…" In something of a bold move, she reached for his right hand. Byleth temporarily went on guard fearing a repeat of the earlier incident. Thankfully, nothing came of it…nothing except an odd sense of comfort in having one take his hand into theirs. "I believe you can do the same."

His gaze lingered on his hand, clasped in Rhea's soft and gentle one. Upon looking back at her face, the former mercenary let a sliver of doubt show. "I just…for most of my life, all I've know is fighting."

"But even then, you've had people to look after, yes? Soldiers under your command, correct?" The green-eyed woman softly pushed. He nodded causing her to continue, "In a way, think of your students as the same, albeit requiring just a bit more guidance, especially the likes of young Caspar." Quick as lightning, the Ashen Demon's lips twitched into a little smirk before he slipped back to his usual stoicism. "The flaming light that you produced moments ago, it is a light that can destroy, but it can also heal. That is the purpose in which your mother chose to wield them for; I'm confident that you will follow her example, and surpass the feats she achieved."

The Archbishop's words stirred something within him. At the thought of surpassing his mother, he felt a fire begin pumping in his vein.

My, for someone so stoic and emotionally reserved, you're quite competitive, aren't you?

That's…how I communicate with people. No, it's not the best way to interact with others, but it's…how I am. Either that or testing them in battle, which doesn't always work. Byleth replied. His gaze moved back to his left hand, still clasped in Rhea's soft embrace. Looking back at her, especially her regal papal robes gave him an idea. "Rhea, your Crest…have you ever used it to…heal others?"

"Many times, it's one of the abilities of my Crest that I'm rather grateful for." She happily responded. "I believe you have a descendant who bears Saint Cethleann's Crest. You could go to him for advice. Or…" It seemed she'd thrown a line out to see if he would take the bait. Byleth saw no harm in doing so. "I could…help instruct you, just I have been…instructing you in courses of white magic."

"I'd appreciate that, Rhea." Came his calm response, though it seemed like he'd practically just accepted a marriage proposal from the Archbishop with the level of excitement she radiated. She truly wants me around…I can't say that I dislike being around her.

Right, of course that's how you'd phrase it. Cackled the goddess in his head.

Just hurry up and go to sleep already. Drily sniped back the former mercenary. In response, she told him that she would after he let go of the Archbishop's hand, thus reminding Byleth that they were still holding hands. With a slight cough, he alerted Rhea to that fact causing her to withdraw her hand. A quiet apology came next, one that was meant with Byleth's casual acceptance before he began to collect his things. They both had things to do when the sun rose tomorrow thus they needed their sleep, her more so than him as she was the one with a massive target on her back. In that realization, a part of him toyed with walking her bad to her room, but Byleth dismissed that idea. Rhea had plenty enough protection as it was, including from Catherine, a skilled and reliable warrior.

At the very least say see you again tomorrow! Sothis yelled as they were about to leave the library and got their separate ways for the evening.

But I don't know if I'll see her again tomorrow, she's a busy woman and I'm going to have classes to teach. He responded. Sothis groaned, muttering something about how his head was denser than iron. Look, I get it, but…she and I have jobs to do.

Oh, my dear Byleth, even so, do your best to make time for the people whom you cherish. You never know when you'll be wishing for more of it and cursing yourself for wasting the time you did have so foolishly. Chided the barefoot little girl floating alongside him.

For a moment, Byleth was silent. Lady Rhea won't die. I won't allow it to happen, even if I have to set up camp outside of her room myself.

Her serious demeanor did a complete one-eighty. Already, he'd grown used to her childish, or impish giggles. Ohoho, how chivalrous of you, Byleth. Has the demon found his tamer?

More like he's just looking after the one who's conjured him. Coolly shot back the twenty-year teacher. That was the end of the conversation topic for the evening. He would speak no more of it for the rest of the night. Except the next morning over would be an entirely different story. Much to his chagrin, news of his…talk with the Archbishop had begun making the rounds. Byleth could only groan at breakfast when some of the now warped details reached him. Apparently, he'd came close to burning the library down only for the Archbishop to have stopped him. It was more like the other way around, though a majority of the blame probably laid with the spectral gremlin in his head, who was still sleeping yesterday away.

When class began, Byleth decided to put his foot down by confronting it, giving the bare minimum of details to his students, then stating anyone who brought it up before breakfast would receive personal brawling training with him. He saw Dorothea's eyes widened like she'd just had someone attempt to douse her hair with toilet water. Caspar looked…a little confused at the proposition as he's the only one who would have enjoyed trading fists with him, but certainly not over some silly little rumor he could probably care less about. The one who caught his attention was Edelgard. He noticed how she seemed to pay close attention to him stating that the Archbishop was merely helping him with his magical studies and nothing more.

She seemed quietly relieved that that's all that had taken place. Or at least, that's all he'd told them had taken place.

---

"Professor, do you…not like it?" Called a male voice that made Byleth look up.

Moonlight had illuminated the ruined classroom through the windows and holes in the classroom, and now the opened door. Actually, it wasn't much of a door anymore considering the doors were just barely hanging on by their hedges, all it would take was a simple push for them to fall down completely. How they hadn't was anyone's guess, though Linhardt was the type who was mindful of where his hands went when he was focused enough, in complete contrast to his best friend.

Byleth knew exactly why he was here at this late hour. "No, no, Linhardt, not at all. It's just…"

"It's quite a lot to take in, isn't it?" The green-haired sorcerer asked. Like the rest of his students, he'd grown considerably, physically and mentally. He felt both were on display as he stepped forward, his gaze moving along the ruined aisles that he and his classmates had once sat in. His green eyes fell on one seat in particular. "You remember where she sat?"

"Evidently, so do you, Professor." Responded the young crest scholar with noticeable sorrow in his voice. Both men could feel the ghosts of the past rising up and taking form around them. The holes and moss and cracks in the Black Eagles classroom repaired itself. Moonlight was replaced with sunlight that mingled with the chattery voices of youth. Byleth pictured himself standing at the head of the classroom as he had before, watching his students with a small smile on his normally impassive face. Linhardt saw that to as he smiled at his professor, who smiled back; it was a testament to how much things had changed. "I…miss it, I miss those times."

"We all do, Linhardt, but…lamenting them isn't going to change the current situation. I'm not even sure running and hiding here would get Edelgard to stop."

"So we can roll out bringing up old memories of our schooldays as a combat tactic, huh?" The usually sleepy-eyed boy offered. Byleth's smile grew sullener. "Professor Byleth, for honesty's sake…how do you feel about using your Crest as our banner?"

Back to the original topic. Byleth looked down at the newly minted castle manner. The Crest of Flames embolden on a black background outlined at the edges by gold, the Banner of the Holy Flame, symbol of the Fódlan resistance. It was the first of many that would begin flying as the remnants of the Knights of Seiros launched their counterattack against the Adrestian Empire…under his command.

He wished his father were still here, he wished that Rhea was still with them. Hell, Byleth wished that Claude or Dimitri, actually nationally recognized leaders, were here with them. But none of them were, it was just him.

Keeping his gaze focused on the banner, he finally answered his student. "I'm…not against it. Honestly, I'd say that it'd be better to use the Crest of Seiros as our banner, but Edelgard possesses it as well, and I shudder to think how it's become a symbol of terror now thanks to her."

"You should hear what some of the clergy and knights have had to say, especially those who've met her in battle."

"I'd rather hear what they have to say about her fighting ability and potential weaknesses." Byleth casually cut in.

Linhardt laughed. "That sounds just like you, Professor." His laughter ended and his face grew serious as he held his professor's gaze. The time for reminiscing had come and gone. They were living in the present, which mirrored the state of the room that the two stood in, and on its way to getting much worse. "Professor Byleth, the continent is ablaze and people are desperately searching for the one who will be able to quell them. Edelgard believes she, who set the land ablaze, can do that, but since your return…the people have begun to believe that person is actually you. You, who wield the Sword of the Creator and the Crest of the Goddess to go along with it. In addition to those two important things, you have the combat experience that may believe we'll need to turn the tide of the war."

All three of Linhardt's points were accurate, though if they would end in the result he and millions of others were hoping for was a different story. Actually, the last one Byleth felt he was a bit iffy on. Sure, he'd led men into battle, some of them quite great, but the most he'd ever commanded were hundreds, not thousands. And he was going up against an enemy force that numbered in the millions. Then again, Byleth knew that numbers weren't everything.

Darkness clawed its way into his heart as he thought of the memories he'd viewed through his Crest and his corresponding Relic.

In theory, one many could only do so much against an army of hundreds or even thousands. In practice, the power of one could crush countless warriors as if they were ants. That had been the fate of the thousands who challenged his "predecessor", the Hero-King Nemesis. He'd watched in often open-mouthed awe and even horror as the white-haired barbarian man wielded the Sword of the Creator and literally painted the land red. Even though it was just a memory, Byleth could practically smell the odor of blood, so strong it seemed to penetrate his astral nostrils. On average, Byleth didn't experience fear in quite the same way most people did, he was a veteran warrior who'd seen hundreds of battlefields, some so horrific they could induce terror in some of the heartiest of warriors.

But the carnage he saw Nemesis leave behind in his wake, in solely his wake was…heart-stopping. He was a one-man natural disaster, an absolute killing machine that tore through legions like a farmer's sickle through wheat. The fact that he at times did so with a murderous smile and hysterical laughter further drove home one inescapable fact-that the man who predeceased was a goddess-damn murderous bastard. But he was one who knew how to led. If not his power, Byleth realized that was likely the one thing he was envious of regarding Nemesis, the man knew how to lead an army, even if he really didn't give a damn about anyone it.

Did Byleth have a shred of that? Rather he did or didn't could decide rather or not Fódlan had even mildly pleasant future.

"You fear leading us in war against Edelgard, don't you?"

Blinking, Byleth realized he'd been so consumed in his thoughts he'd forgotten his former student. Linhardt had been kind enough to wait until he felt his teacher's self-doubt was reaching its peak to strike at his looming doubts. There was no use in hiding them anymore.

"I worry about it, Linhardt. I've led you all into battle before-"

"And we have not only survived, but triumphed, and when we did not, you helped us regroup so we could try again." Pressed the scholarly sorcerer. "Professor Byleth, the truth is we were able to accomplish such achievements because of you. Not Edelgard, not Hubert, we won because of you, Professor Byleth. You pushed us to be better. You refined us so we could use what we had to do more than just flail about like fishes out of water. If it weren't for you, none of us would have made it this far, and I say this not just as a representative as the Black Eagles, but for all of us."

His eyes widened as the full weight of the sorcerer's words impacted him. Yet again, Byleth's mind turned back to the past, though not thousands of years back. If the Siege of Garreg Mach had been yesterday, then Edelgard's assault on the Holy Tomb was the day before, still relatively fresh in his mind. It was a moment that he knew would define the rest of his life. His prized imperial pupil had revealed herself to be the wanted terrorist known as the Flame Emperor, ally to the bastards who'd killed his father and made life hell for the residents of the Monastery. She'd attempted to make off with all the Crest Stones she could within with the aid of Hubert, her ever loyal retainer…who helped to be in on the whole thing.

Byleth remembered how he'd felt like laughing, yet couldn't bring himself to do anything but stare at the white-haired girl. It hadn't came as a shock to him, he'd figured out the Flame Emperor was his imperial pupil weeks before her raid on the Holy Tomb. And he'd decided that he would oppose her with all of his being. What pained him was the possibility of having to slay his other students who'd potentially side with them.

"When you all…stood by me, I was happy, so incredibly happy." He whispered letting his emotions sway him.

"Frankly, we were all just as happy that you opposed her." Linhardt responded. "To ally with her after all she'd done, I'm not ashamed to say I would have lost all respect for you."

Laughing, Byleth leaned against his old desk, the wood holding up against his slight weight. "Well, I guess we can be thankful that's one future we averted. Now we just have to figure out what to paint this one."

"Simple, we help you paint it into a bright one where Bernadetta can hide out in her room from a safe and pristine world, Ferdinand can continue to prattle on about noble obligation while living up to it, Petra can rule Brigid justly as its queen, Dorothea can flirt with the land's new administration officials, Caspar can continue to fight evil and hopefully make smarter decisions, Constance has revived House Nuvelle, Flay is free to devour all the fish in the sea, Seteth is able to smoother her, and lastly…I can sleep the day away."

"…Heheh…hehehe…hahahaha!" It was a sound that very few would have expected to hear-Byleth Eisner laughing. It was like seeing a shooting star, a moment that was to be cherished as one may not know if they'll ever witness it again. In Linhardt's opinion though, this was twice watching a star shoot across the sky. "Ah…that sounds like a future I want to fight for."

"I thought as much. It's one that we're all willing to fight for as well, specifically, it's one we know that you can lead us to, just as the mythical Saint Seiros led the Church against Nemesis' to secure Fódlan's peace." Added the blue-eyed scholar.

Byleth's green eyes darkened. He'd heard the story countless times while he was at the Monastery to the point he practically knew certain details by heart. The thing was, he knew the actual details, including those that hadn't made it into the history books. Seiros really had to fight Nemesis to secure Fódlan's peace, if she hadn't Byleth genuinely wondered if the former thief would have eventually burned the entire continent down to the ground.

"Linhardt, do you know of Edelgard's second Crest?" Byleth asked.

"You mean that like you she bears the Crest of Flames? Yes, she's attempted to use it to rally the citizenry to her cause." He responded before shrugging. "While at the same time spouting how the Church has fed the public lies and that she intends to free the world of its control and usher in the 'Age of Humanity'. Oh, and setting scores of Demonic Beasts upon her enemies, and we both know where those come from, Professor." Byleth's nodded with a dark frown on his face. If they were forced to pick a crime that Edelgard had committed that had been an unforgivable sin, it had been the usage of Demonic Beasts, born from humans forcibly bonded to Crest Stones. "I've seen her use it in battle, and her usage of it is…potent."

"Linhardt," Declared the Ashen Demon looking his sorcerous former pupil in the eye. "Between the two of us…who do you believe is the better user of the Crest of Flames?"

"Really? Professor Byleth, that question is so painfully obvious it hardly counts." Arms crossed, the mage answered, "You. You are the Crest's true wielder."

"What makes you think that?" Asked the swordsman.

For a minute, there was nothing but silence between the two men. Neither made a sound, the only nose coming from the nightly wind blowing through the in-repair monastery.

Finally, there was a heavy sigh on Linhardt's part. "I could give you some long-winded academic explanation on why I see you as not just the true wielder of the Crest of Flames, but as the better wielder, but I'll keep it short since I'm starting to want to go back to sleep."

Byleth smirked. "You could tell me in the morning."

"I could…but I don't think I'll be able to sleep at night unless I tell you now." Replied the Warlock. In spite of his previous remark, he was fully awake, and one-hundred-percent serious. This was the Linhardt that Byleth had to coax out of his shell throughout the school year. "The reason that I believe you're the true wielder of the Crest of Flames…is because you represent everything it stands for in the hands of the goddess." Green eyes slightly widened at the statement. Blue eyes remained locked on his as Linhardt continued to speak in the same serious voice. "The goddess descended upon Fódlan and bathed the land in her light, bringing life to the once barren land. From then on, she helped and guided the people of ancient Fódlan before departing to the heavens, where she would continue to watch over the land and her children. From time to time, her blessings would fall to the earth as rays of divine light, bringing restoration and salvation. The purpose of such great power should be for the benefit the people…not throw the entire land into a chaotic maelstrom while spouting how it's for the best and at the end of it all Fódlan will be liberated." A shudder of disgust rippled through the former noble making it clear he was hating what he was saying, specifically the final word, which Byleth knew he was paraphrasing.

Byleth had heard Edelgard speak fondly of the late King of Liberation. Edelgard believed he'd been a champion of humanity who'd opposed the Nabateans rule of the continent. She'd been half right in that he'd opposed it, but not out of any sympathy for his fellow man or desire to see humanity on top, he'd opposed them because he wanted the position of ruling for himself. There was never any corruption because he was corrupt from the start. He'd took it through deceit and bloodshed, then used those two things to hold onto power until the daughter of the goddess had finally delivered to him karma.

With Edelgard though, Byleth felt tempted to say that there had been some corruption, or at least if they won that's how history might paint it.

"And what of me, Linhardt?" Questioned the former mercenary.

The green-clad crest scholar smiled at him. "You came from out of nowhere, nary an emotion to be found on your face, yet you devoted all of your heart to not just those of us in the Black Eagles, a rift raft group that could barely tolerate one another, but to everyone else at the Monastery. No matter who they were or what their creed was, you accepted them and did your best to guide them, heh, even if your efforts were rejection at first." Both men shared a short laugh at the jovial memories of bygone days. "When you wielded the Crest, your Crest, it was always for the right reasons. Regardless of what a few bandits, monsters, and imperial soldiers would say to the contrary." The scholarly man chuckled at the last bit, an addition he made in the spur of the moment. It got a momentary smile out of the former professor. "The light that your Crest radiates…it's a light that I believe belongs to one who wishes to make a better Fódlan, but not by bringing it under military conquest and killing those who refuse to comply. I don't believe the goddess would condone such a rule, and if she did…then…well, she isn't the being that I thought she was."

Throughout the entire speech, Byleth had been taken aback by the thoughtful exposition Linhardt had given. It wasn't like he was averse to deep thought, he was actually one of the ones who gave critical thought to serious and even ethical matters.

His last statement drew s surprising chuckle out of him. "You know, I don't think you have to worry about the goddess condoning such an act."

"Quite so, after all, she sent you back to us, did she not?" He responded without missing a beat in his rhythm.

Blinking he responded automatically. "Yes, she did." He was actually right. Sothis had sent him back, which he was ultimately grateful for.

"Good thing, now I think I can finally go to sleep. If any of what I said must be repeated, well, I'll save it for the others." Finally came the yawn that marked the former heir to House Hevring.

"Um, Professor Byleth? Linhardt? Are you two in there and are you alright?" Called a voice from beyond the doorway, one that both men knew quite well.

Sharing a glance, they left the confines of the classroom, being careful to push open the doors as not to break them. What Byleth saw before him took his breath away.

His students, all five years older than they had been the last time he'd seen them, stood in front of the old Black Eagles classroom. The Black Eagles themselves along with the transfers he'd received from the other Houses: Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix from the Blue Lions, Marianne, Lysithea, Hilda, Ignatz, Raphael, and Leonie from the Golden Deer, and even the Ashen Wolves along with Cyril. The Alymran boy stepped forward, standing alongside Ferdinand.

"Um, Professor Byleth, are you alright? We all…well…"

"We all seemed to have had the same dream calling us to awake and come back here." Ferdinand finished for him. "Is everything alright?"

Beside him, Linhardt shot him a warm and encouraging smile.

Looking at the group of children who'd grown into adults in his absence, he remembered the words he'd spoken to his father, Rhea, and several others when he let his walls come down. "I must lead them well." The statement had defined almost all of his actions in regards to his students. Those same students had all stood by him when he rejected Edelgard's offer, even the Black Eagles who knew in doing so they were betraying their country and would be branded as traitors. They knew that and still stood by him, and when he returned to Fódlan, they decided they would continue to stand by him.

Linhardt quietly walked back into the room and retrieved the banner, returning and handing it to him. Byleth felt himself on the verge of tears, which he pushed back as not to seem too emotionally in front of his students and worry them. "I-I'm fine, everyone. I suppose I just…" looking down at the banner that held the Crest of the Goddess, his crest, Byleth felt a surge of strength throughout his body. "I just needed a little reminder of what it is I'm fighting for, and how we're going to win this war and stop Edelgard. We're going to do it together, with everyone's help."

"Yes," Ferdinand stated with a beaming smile that too was trademark of his character. He'd smiled a lot less than he used to; it wasn't hard to guess why. That made the return of these beaming smiles all the more pleasant to behold. "We will, and with you as our leader. Who else but you could lead us?"

"Hm, I could think of a few contenders, but there's no denying our dear Byleth can do with it a certain style." Yuri chuckled.

I must…I will lead them well. Byleth mentally declared as he quelled everyone's fears and ushered them back to bed. He would repeat them again I the morning, when he sat in the meeting chamber with Seteth and the other knights for the war council. Everyone looked to him for leadership, men and women who'd been at the Monastery for years and looked to the Archbishop for guidance. In her absence, the duty fell to him, and Byleth swore on the fire within his soul, he would not fail.

---

"Um, hi?" If Sothis were still with him, she'd have face palmed, then likely launched into an epic rant about how he'd just royally screwed up. Not for the first time, Byleth wished that Sothis was still with him; he could have used her advice right about now. Surely she knew better than he how to get her daughter out of this depressive slump she'd slid into.

Said daughter was looking at him with wide eyes. "B-B-Byleth? Y-You're…you're…"

"Flying," he messily answered for her, or at least that's what he thought her words would be. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looked to sides. The evening sun made brought out the golden glow of the light particles that danced around the emerald flames that had formed the wings he'd used to fly up to the Star Terrace. To any onlookers, the sight would have been undeniably strange, even by Garreg Mach Monastery standards. One might have assumed one was planning an attack on the recovering Archbishop.

Rhea was staring at the burning wings of light. Byleth saw a familiar flash of recognition in her eyes followed by a ping of pain. She masked it so well that it made his heart hurt, then came the forced smile. "As I hoped, you've mastered the power of your Crest, Byleth."

Giving her a small half-smile, he floated closer, he was now hovering over the floor of the terrace. His wings vanished in a flurry of green embers and golden sparks. "Would you, um, mind the company?"

"Oh, Byleth, your company is always welcome." She answered with a courteous nod.

"Rhea, I'm sorry." Her happiness immediately melted into confusion. "My wings they…they reminded you too much of Sothis' didn't they?"

She was clearly caught off-guard by his accurate analysis. For a minute, she looked ready to put her walls back up, the temptation was certainly there, but in the end the walls never came up. Byleth was happy for that, even if it twisted his stomach in nuts to see her looking so crestfallen. In spite of that, she smiled at him, albeit in the painful manner that had become common at Garreg Mach. "It's not…it's not your fault, Byleth. It's mine."

"No, it isn't." He quietly but swiftly retorted. Five years ago, he would have been cautious about this, hesitant, but as he was now, there was no hesitation. Byleth swiftly closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. Rhea was once more caught off-guard by the hug, but she gradually returned it as she basked in the warmth he provided. He didn't care if it was his Crest or just his physical body heat, all that mattered was that he wanted to warm

"It's been…a millennia, yet still I grieve." Whispered the Nabatean founding close to tears. This was the state that many had so fervently worked to uplift her out of since her return to the Monastery. It would have been a crushing blow to the still rising moral, which is why she'd retreated to the terrace, always a favorite place of contemplation for her.

"So does Seteth." Her eyes widened at his words-a truth that had been kept hidden from her. "All over the Monastery, there's people still grieving loved ones they lost five years, and some…longer. Heh, look at me." Pulling away, he allowed the sorrow to full proliferate throughout his face as he smiled at her. "My father's death was five years ago and I…I'm…still not over it."

Softly shaking her head from side to side, she gently pushed her head back into his embrace. Her sorrow mixed with his as they sat down against the stone floor, the light of the sunset bathing them in its gentle embrace. That same glow painted the Monastery which they looked out to while slowly putting themselves back together.

"All that time spent practicing…you turned out to be right, though I'm not sure how good my mother could have been if she'd lived a little longer." Spoke the Enlightened One.

His words were enough to bring a small smile to Rhea's face. "As I said all those years ago, Byleth, Sitri would have been proud of you. She especially would have been proud of your ability to use them to heal armies, it's the sort of thing she would have always dreamed of." As he'd reached out to her, she reached out to him, taking his left hand up with her right. Rhea was glad that Byleth wasn't wearing his gloves like he usually was. Instead of his usual combat uniform or even his Enlightened One outfit, he wore a simple black tunic with gray highlights. Likewise, she'd forgone her customary garments and headwear in favor of a simpler dress. They weren't symbols of the resistance or the Church, they were just…people, two wounded people finding comfort in each other.

Byleth was happy for them to be that, if only for this moment here. "When I returned to the Monastery and made the rounds to see how bad the damages were, I was…scared that her tomb had been…desecrated. Luckily, nothing had happened."

"I took precautions to make sure that come what may, her tomb would not be disturbed, especially after what happened with Aelfric. As you know, tomb robbing is…not something I'm willing to overlook."

"Me neither." He responded while softly rubbing her shoulders. "Truth be told, I guess that's one thing that angered me about Edelgard's raid on the tomb, even if she was…lacking certain bits of information about what it was she was robbing." Byleth's gaze turned to the floor as another shadow of sorrow loomed over him. "I don't think it would have stopped her anyway. Nothing short of death would have stopped her."

"It was the fate that she chose, Byleth." Retorted the Nabatean, though not as harshly as she might have years ago. Though her animosity toward the Girl of Hresvelg would never die out, it had…lessened upon coming to understand her reasons. Still, that didn't mean that she would hesitate in voicing her disdain for her. What stayed her temper was the man beside her. While he'd made his choice to stand beside her over his former student, Rhea realized the decision and its aftermath would still haunt him. "To have both my Crest and those of my mother's within her…she knew that death was all that awaited her. What she decided to do with the time that she had left though…"

"Is something we'll all be cleaning up for a while." He sighed sounding more irritated than anything.

"The important thing is that you stopped her before she could well and truly become another Nemesis." Rhea offered.

His face grew sadder at the comparisons. "I saw him…through the Sword and my Crest. It...wasn't pretty most of the time."

Rhea's face grew darker, more weighed down with sorry. In spite of that, she looked Byleth in the eye, making it clear she wasn't going to retrack her previous statement. He honestly didn't even feel like he had the strength to ask her to because at heart, Byleth felt that the thousand-year-old woman beside him was right in some aspects. Nemesis was a warlord in every sense of the word, but he had an immensely strong will that allowed him to survive the harshest of ordeals that life threw at him, before and after he'd taken Sothis' power. Edelgard had a similar will, but rather than fueled by selfishness, it was fueled by a combination of repressed anger and misguided righteousness that allowed her to commit atrocities that would make him vomit. What was frightening was that as Rhea had spoken, if she hadn't been stopped, she might have eventually reached Nemesis' level, but believing that such things were necessary evils for the sake of a better future.

He shuddered to think that would have included mercilessly slaying the woman beside him as well as Seteth and Flayn, who was still just a child. Byleth had seen with his own eyes that such a thing made no difference to Edelgard, she accused Flayn of merely feinting her childish just as she accused her father, aunt, and the rest of her kind of lacking humanity. It was enough to make him scoff, which he sometimes did in the middle of or after the girl's at times grandiose speeches about the nature of humanity. If he'd led a different life, those speeches might have been enough to potentially persuade him, but he'd seen too much before and after awakening to his Crest.

"They would have used her up, then thrown her away, taking everything she'd built and using it for their own ends." Concluded the Ashen Demon in a sorrowful voice.

"I tried to warn the girl of that, but she was incredibly hard-headed." A humorless laugh rung from the draconic woman's lips. "I suppose we were alike in that regard, which is why one of us probably had to fall."

"At least you never allied with a pack of genocidal lunatics who believe themselves superior to every other form of life on the planet, not to mention are a bunch of ungrateful pricks." Byleth coyly remarked.

Rhea laughed. "You've clearly seen into the memories of the Progenitor Goddess." Smirking, he held up his left index finger and thumb, the space between them barely amounting to an inch. Rhea laughed filling Byleth's heart with joy. As her laughter died down, sorrow once more stretched out its hand to close around her. "Having seen those memories…you…saw that I…I lied. I made a hero out of the murderer of my own people."

"Rhea, Nemesis was…urgh, loath as I am to say it, he was already a hero in the eyes of some. That's…just how people are." If anyone asked how one could look at a scene of utter carnage and see a figure standing atop it, a bloody sword in hand and a mad grin on one's face and ask how they could be called a hero by anyone, Byleth would have answered with one word-enemy. It was amongst the oldest and most basic notions of warfare, of conflict really. By designating someone as the enemy, as the "other", any all brutality inflicted upon them became justified. It was how armies helped ease new recruits into killing, it was how inexperienced people gradually gained the ability to kill. It was how villainy in the eyes of one could be seen as heroism through the eyes of another. "I can't agree with everything that you did…but you worked with what you could, and that was for his strength and power, Nemesis was a hero."

"How often have you seen such things?" The pious woman asked recognized the statement as coming from one who'd witnessed the darker and warlike side of humanity.

Though he was physically no older than twenty-one, Byleth looked twenty or even thirty years older as he shook his head. "More times than you can count. I was on the receiving end of it since I was able to stand atop a pile of corpses when the dust settled."

"But you're different from him, so don't become confused that you two are one in the same." Her Crest Stone heart thumping within her, the dragon in human form squeezed her savior's hand while holding eye-contact with him. "Nemesis stolen the goddess' power and used it for his own selfish ends, he is nothing compared to you, Byleth. You're…when I called you the goddess' chosen, I…I was not lying. The kind of person you are, the courageous, noble man that you are…you're one that I believe mother would truly bless and give her power to. You're…you…" Her eyes briefly averted from his while her grip tightened. "Any wrong Nemesis has done with the Crest of the Goddess, your actions have redeemed, ten times over."

Byleth sat beside her and stared in slight wide-eyed shock, as was customary of him. His eyes gradually returned to their original size and his free left hand fell atop his chest, where his own Crest Stone heart pulsated. "That's…something that's always ate at me. How do I measure up to him?"

"You're a hundred, no, a thousand times the warrior, and the man he was." Affirmed the Archbishop. The sorrowful exhaustion that had been plaguing her a little while ago was gone, as if blown away by a fierce gale. "And when the time comes, I know you'll easily be a better king than he ever was."

"…Well, At least unlike him I'll know how to do paperwork." Declared the former mercenary. He smiled as Rhea's serious demeanor gave way to a jubilant laugh. Byleth joined her leading the two of them to another tender moment. The sky above them had grown darker, the night only mere moments away. "Rhea, you shouldn't blame yourself for Edelgard. She made her choice, one that falls squarely on her."

Biting her lip, the demigod shook her head. "Her choice…was spurned on by my inabilities. Not to mention it was…it was my blood that pumped through her veins. It was my Crest that empowered her! Byleth, such catastrophes were why there were lies regarding my people sharing our blood with humans! My followers, people who believed in me! How many of them saw my Crest as their last living vintage before they…before they…"

Yet again, his arms encircled her, pulling her into an embrace that stopped the torrent of despair seeking to overwhelm her. "Rhea, I'll say this again, you aren't responsible for what Edelgard chose to do with her power. You're not anymore responsible than Sothis is for the atrocities Nemesis committed." His right hand slid up to the back of her head, using the position, he aligned their faces. Rhea's breath caught in her throat as she was temporarily blown away by the intensity of Byleth's gaze. "You couldn't have foreseen that one of Wilhelm's descendants would take a stance opposite of his, so don't continuously beat yourself up over it. If you want to go apologize before his grave, then by all means, but you cannot spend the rest of time mourning before it. The people in the present need you, I still need you. We all need the might of Seiros, the warrior saint of legend…but we also need Rhea, the kind and serene woman who's been there for all of us. We need…I need the woman behind both. The woman that I'm sitting beside."

"Would you…would you…have her? Would you, Byleth?" Asked the Nabatean, her cheeks beat red and her heart pounding faster than it ever had before. Was it from his words or the close proximity they now shared? They'd never been this close before, not physically at least…and perhaps not even spiritually.

His intense gaze never wavered. "I would, I'd entrust my back and my side to her, and I'd like it if she would allow me to do the same."

The pair felt their respective heartbeats in their ears, mystical pulses that resounded in the small space between them.

His grip loosening, Rhea partially moved her head back. Her right hand rose, an array of aurora light amassing in her hand to form her Crest, the Crest of Seiros. Slowly, Byleth raised his left hand, emerald flames flanked by golden sparks danced in his hand, it two took shape into his personal Crest. Their faces illuminated by their respective Crests and their elements. Slowly, their hands moved forward, the two energy masses merging into one as Rhea slid her hand underneath Byleth's. For the second time in five years, the powers of the Crest of Seiros and the Crest of Flames wielded by the Ashen Demon made contact. As they had before, the two powers swirled together into a wondrous golden flame that illuminated the entire terrace; it was like a star being born.

Staring at one another through the glow of the pseudo star, Byleth and Rhea smiled at each other. Silent understanding passed through the two of them causing them to lift their arms up in unison. The burning mass of Aether shot upward into the now darkened night sky, then lit it up as it exploded. Byleth and Rhea sat side-by-side watching the golden sparks fan out across waves of not just green but red, blue, purple, and countless other colors. It was an end, and a beginning.

"Byleth," Whispered the Archbishop, her hand wrapping around his and receiving a warm squeeze in return. "Thank you."

"I'm just returning the favor." He laughed. "Rhea…your Crest and mine…let's use their power to rebuild Fódlan."

"Yes," she responded, a lone tear sliding down her cheek as she leaned forward and bumped her forehead against his. Rhea wasn't totally sure what to expect when Byleth had came to see her atop the Star Terrace; she now felt a little foolish for not realizing what this presence meant.

Just like the original bearer of the Crest of Flames, he was her salvation, bringing light to her existence. But it wasn't her mother whom she directed her thanks to, it was Byleth, the man who'd done so much for her. She promised she would do just as much for him, maybe more, because as far as she was concerned-he was worth it.

Sothis, Byleth mentally whispered. Would you say I'm doing the best with the Crest you left behind? I'm going to keep on going, and hopefully…I really will turn this thing into a beacon of hope.

Silly, you already have.

---

When Byleth opened his eyes, he saw stars, thousands of stars flicking in the vacuum of space. The wanderlust he felt went hand-in-hand with a surprising sense of relief that allowed him to completely relax himself.

"Well, well, someone is looking far less tense. I can sympathize, when within the walls of one's own home, peace tends to come easily, especially when in the presence of family." The divine figure wasn't sitting on a throne as she was last time. She was sitting on the ground, which was covered in a myriad of colorful flowers. It made it all the more pleasant to sit down. "Don't worry, I'd warn you should anyone attempt to breach your security, if you yourself didn't detect them."

"If that happened, you'd never let me hear the end of it, putting myself and your daughter and granddaughter in danger." Laughed the swordsman.

"Exactly, so there's your motivation to keep your alertness sharp, even in times of peace such as this." Proudly declared the Goddess of Fódlan, looking every bit the maternal figure that she was in life and is still worshipped as.

Byleth smiled as he sized up the figure who'd spent roughly six months inside of his head as a child. She sat beside him as an adult, this being his third time seeing her in such a form; for old time's sake, he still called her by several of her old nicknames, which she made a show of being upset about. "I'm happy to see you, and I think the others would be happy to see you too."

Sothis' smile was one of comfort and longing. "I will…one day soon. For now though, you're enough, you've shown yourself to be enough, Byleth." The goddess giggled at the somewhat embarrassed blush that crept upon his face at her words. She was also happy he wasn't downplaying his own abilities in comparison to hers, she'd had to get Rhea out of that phase and wanted to ensure Byleth avoided it. "That portrait that young Ignatz made of you is really quite amazing, it's one that I'm sure will endure throughout the ages."

"It's…not exactly the image of me that I always planned on memorializing in history."

"But it's one that you will have to be proud of…as well as the rest of your line, Byleth." Affirmed the goddess. "Speaking of which…"

"Did you seriously call me here for that?" Jokingly leered the Enlightened One.

"What? Someone did make a promise to repopulate the Nabatean race." With a grin, she reached over and lightly pumped the swordsman's shoulder. "And of all the candidates out there, I'm sitting right next to one with the best ability to do that."

"You know, I'm starting to think it would be for the best to hold off on you visiting. I don't want you to corrupt my daughter and her future siblings."

"Oh please, she'd love to see her grandmother Sothis! Rhea's been clamoring for that too, and it's not like I'm the only source of corruption in the family! If anything, I should be advising you and her to keep some lewd literature away from my grandchildren!" Cried the pointy-eared woman. Her former host's response was to continue to stare at her with a sly smirk. Sothis smirked back at him, rather impressed with how far he'd come with his ability to express emotions. The years of social interaction had certainly helped. "You handled that attempted uprising well."

"So I've been hearing from one side. Others claim I'm being too lenient." Answered back the former sword-for-hire.

"Do you believe you were too lenient? Honestly, by this point I think I would have begun to lose patience with these hold-outs." Declared the dragon goddess leaning back and looking skyward to the stars above. "By year four, I believe it would have been safe to say that the Adrestian Empire isn't coming back, nor is the Agarthan one, thankfully."

"Doesn't stop a few from holding out for it. They're free to dream however they want, it's when they try to turn those dreams into a reality at the expense of everyone else that I take issue." The king answered back. "As for if I'm being too lenient...perhaps I am, perhaps I'm right. Frankly, I think I'm the latter, though if time proves me wrong I'll learn from this and move on."

The goddess smiled at his response making Byleth feel like one of his old students who'd just gotten a question right. Oh, how they would have loved to have seen this, including some of his fellow teachers. Mercifully, this moment would stay with him and the formerly spectral girl who'd taken up residency in his head. At times, he could have sworn he could still hear her. Given that her power dwelled within him to this day, it wasn't a stretch, not to mention Sothis' spirit was the strongest in all the land. If she wanted to, she could have returned to the world of the living, most likely through his body, but she didn't. Byleth theorized that only the most dire of situations would ever warrant such a thing. It was his job to ensure such a calamity never came to pass.

"I hear there's a betting pool going around regarding my granddaughter's Crest." Jovially questioned the goddess.

Chuckling, Byleth responded, "A continent-wide one to be honest. Since you're able to peer into the future, mind telling me which side is going to win?"

Sothis grinned back at him. "And spoil the surprise? Weren't you one of the ones who said to let history take its natural course." Leaning forward, the goddess searched his face for a crack in his cool persona. "You didn't happen to make a side bet behind my back, did you? Or perhaps you want your firstborn to inherit your Crest instead of Rhea's? Is that the fatherly side of you at work?"

"Maybe." He laughed. "Whosever Crest Theia manifests, Rhea and I will be here for her, come what may, she's our little girl and we'll love her all the same. The same will apply to the rest of our children, and our grandchildren, heh, and potential great-grandchildren."

Sothis laugher rippled across the celestial field. "Spoken like a true father, and I'd even say a true patriarch. You've ruled well, Byleth, and I'm confident you will continue to do so, and you'll continue to be the man I can entrust my children to. Well, actually, they're your family now, so keep up the good work."

A divine wind blew across the field. Though soft and gentle, Byleth could feel himself being lifted into the air and carried away by it; in a sense, he was. His senses alerted him to the change as his eyes looked around him. Gone was the night sky full of stars, replaced by a wooden ceiling. Registering the cackling of a fire, he looked to his front to find an orange and yellow fire still burning in the living room fireplace, casting a serene glow across it and irradiating warmth. It was an added layer of warmth to the little girl cuddled up on his right side; she lay safely switched between her father and her mother. Byleth smiled at the sight of his wife and daughter; both began to stir thanks to his sudden movements.

"P-Papa?" Theia whispered slightly rising alongside her mother.

"Hm, Byleth, is something wrong?"

Looking at the two of them, Byleth felt his Crest Stone heart and human heart beat in perfect unison, they were were beating in heartfelt joy. "No, just a...pleasant dream, one that's still going on."

Unsure of precisely what her father meant, the lime-haired girl began to search the nearby floor for the item that had held her attention before she doused off. Her green eyes as she spouted it and pointed at it. Rhea laughed as she readjusted herself to her daughter's right side. Her gaze found Byleth's and she knew that this so-called dream that her husband had was a pleasant one, and he'd likely share it with her. For now though, their three-year-old daughter was eager to see her bedtime story finished. Byleth took hold of the book while adjusting himself as well, his eyes moving between his wife and daughter, the two most important people in the world to him.

At the tranquil residence of the personal home of the Eisner Family, story time began again. The tale this time being that of the Emerald Hero and the Princess of Twilight, a personal favorite of the entire family.

---

I wanted to tell something of a loose story regarding Byleth and his feelings toward his Crest and himself in this story. Given Byleth's character (or lack of character some would say) I used other characters to bounce him off of and help him develop bit by bit. Each segment I wanted to show a bit of a different side of him starting with Jeralt. That part focused on Byleth seeing his Crest as a potential asset to be used in battle, but with the vague hinting that he now saw it as a connection to his mother. I followed that up in the next one with Rhea, who opened up a little bit about Sitri. It's part of my headcanon that Sitri and her "siblings" could all use the Crest of Flames, but none of them could quite use its full effects since, going by Sitri's example, their bodies were too fragile to handle the power. In spite of that, Sitri used its power to heal others as a Church nun. Another headcanon of mine is as Byleth begins becoming more attuned to his emotions, he begins feeling things like guilt and even unease regarding the likely thousands of people he's killed as a mercenary and trying to reconcile it with the kind of person his mother was. Such feelings especially hit hard when people praise him for his kindness and altruism.

This was honestly my first time writing Linhardt, who I can say I share some traits with. It was fun having an unlikely candidate as him be the one to give Byleth a pep talk after the resistance decides upon the Crest of Flames as its banner. While I fully believe the Silver Snow route should have been focused on Rhea, I can see the case being made for it to focus on Byleth (either having them share the Lord role or giving him some more in-depth character development).Particularly, given the way the Silver Snow route plays out, Byleth's character arc can be summed up as this-assuming leadership in the absence of "professional" leaders which I wanted the talk with Linhardt to touch upon. It's not a role he feels he's suited to live up to, but it's one he assumes none the less, partially thanks to encouragement from those who do believe he's worth following. While opinions may vary, this can be supported by the route split in the Black Eagles Route where the entire class will follow Byleth, even if it makes them traitors to their country (countries) or enemies of the Church.

Third and most pivotally, there was the talk with Rhea which takes place after her rescue but before the raid on Shambhala. After all he'd been through, I wanted to show Byleth able to serve as a pillar of strength to others, especially to someone who gave him encouragement in the past to show how far he's grown. Oh, and it was funny writing him just floating up to the Star Terrace to talk with Rhea. I wanted to show some more abilities of the Crest of Flames, but I suppose green/golden flames and light should be good enough for now. Adding to all that, I wanted to hint at what kind of person Nemesis was and contrast him to Byleth. Amongst all the discussions that have been had about Nemesis, I feel like he's a perfect dark foil to Byleth just as Rhea and Edelgard are foils to each other. It was fun writing that contrast.

Lastly, there was Sothis stopping by for a chat with our favorite professor-turned-king. That too was meant to show how far Byleth's come, namely he's secure in his path in life and confident in going forward, all of which Sothis approves of. And a little snippet at Byleth and Rhea's familial life. First look at their daughter in this continuity of stories, Theia Eisner. I'll be featuring her in a few more stories that see the Eisner Family in the after years, but all that's for later.

That's the end of this little One-Shot. Hope you all enjoyed and see you next time! Stay safe and healthy, everyone!