There was something beautiful about the Aegir coat of arms, which Byleth can admire whenever she looks at her ring finger. The same coat of arms that the letter that came along that morning bore on its seal.
The Imperial tetragrammatic cross, a one-headed eagle and the bugle horn of the Gerousia on its claws. For all her detachment and ignorance of worldly matters in Fódlan, she understood what all of those things meant and the weight they held over her.
Sometimes, when the young professor thought about her boyfriend of almost five years, she was reminded of the eagle and the bugle on that coat of arms.
Eagles are endemic in Fódlan only to the large forests within the mountainous northern Imperial lands, and it was an offence punishable by death to kill or maim a specimen within their borders. The bird was beautiful as it soared high in the air. Being the top of its food chain, it was also ferocious, swooping in and killing its prey in one bated breath.
Ferdinand was a lot like the eagle that adorned and symbolizes his homeland, the both beautiful and ferocious bird, and one that ought to fly so high in the sky that the land-dwellers may never reach it.
Byleth wonders, now, how she had ever let herself fall so completely for him, but then again, there always was something so freeing about his sunny smile, his amber eyes full of determination. She remembers with such clarity the first time she saw that smile directed at her.
"Hey! Professor, wait up!" A voice called for Byleth as she was leaving the classroom courtyard for the day.
The blue-haired woman whipped around, looking for the source of the voice, only to see Ferdinand von Aegir jogging after her.
"Ferdinand." Byleth greeted succinctly but politely, as she raised her eyebrow at the young man, looking him over. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
She could not deny that he was attractive and very well put together, but with his usually shorn hair overgrown, he looked a bit like the careless mercenaries on her father's band.
The Moons were quickly passing them by on her first year as a professor. Her days were mostly unassuming and unremarkable ever since Byleth and Jeralt relocated to the monastery permanently.
"Well, I, uh, is this yours?" He held out a book on proper speech of High Imperial Fódlan.
That was funny. In all her time of classes with Ferdinand, Byleth had never known him to stumble over his words. The boy was always so confident, cheeky even, she cannot help but wonder whether he thinks he is shaming her by asking whether the volume belonged to her.
It did. As she mostly interacted with commoners and uneducated people, she was perfectly fluent in the lingua franca of the continent, the significantly simpler Low Imperial Fódlan. However, ever since she joined the Church, she felt the need to learn more refined varieties, especially the High Imperial, the default choice for Manuela and Hannemann.
"Yes, it is." She bowed and held out her hand to take the book. "Thank you, Ferdinand. I have not yet realized I had misplaced it."
"It was no trouble. You have returned many prized items to me these last few Moons." He smiled softly at the memory, but then hardened his expression once more. "Are you struggling with your language skills?"
"I guess you could say that. The language I am used to is much more…" Byleth bounced her head, looking for the right word. "Well, less refined than just basic."
Ferdinand snorted, looking down at his toes. He did not say anything. Byleth waited for him to speak but he just stood there, looking down.
"Ferdinand?" Byleth prompted, curious.
Ferdinand whipped his head up.
"I was just going to offer, as I was educated in High Imperial, if you might want a tutor?" Ferdinand said softly.
Byleth was thoroughly confused with the Ferdinand was acting. First, he stumbles over his words, and now one could say he looked bashful! Still, she really was awful with High Imperial, and of course she knew the nobleman's son to be from the Empire, and therefore he must know the language well. Better than most, for all that matters.
"Yes, very well, I would really appreciate the help." Byleth smiled up at him. "Are you available tomorrow, after the lunch bell?"
"Yeah, yeah, that works great!" Ferdinand grinned, bouncing up and down. "I apologise, but I am late for my duties at the stables. I must go."
He looked one last time in her direction and walked back the way he came.
Byleth could only stand there, speechless. In all of the time she has known him, she could not remember ever seeing him smile like that. It left her breathless, standing like a fool in the middle of the promenade, staring after him.
Looking back on it now, it was much too clear to tell that he had just wanted to spend time with her. Get to know her, be her friend.
He never had that many friends in the monastery, Byleth knows. Ferdinand usually chose to spend his time with his so-called noble pursuits or working with the horses in the stables or the weapons at the armoury. It was rare indeed that he deigned himself with having tea with one of his classmates or decided to spar, and his choice was nine out of ten times Edelgard, the Princess Imperial.
Byleth reached their small cottage, a short walk off the Garreg Mach village. It was rather detached from the religious structure, but still within the monastery's walls.
It has passed over eight Moons since Ferdinand suggested finding someplace where they could be themselves, away from the rules of the Church and the Imperial nobility. Together, they found this place, abandoned by the sands of time, uninhabited since times immemorial.
After graduation, Ferdinand had refused to return to Enbarr just yet, electing to remain in Garreg Mach, ostensibly to further his training with the Knights of Seiros and provide the Church with his service, as a form of a tithe from House Aegir. It was, of course, all a lie, as he merely wanted to stay with his girlfriend.
Alas, five years have passed, and the Duke was growing impatient. It was high time for Ferdinand to come back to take over the Aegir territory and wed a Hresvelg princess or a Bergliez lady. Alas, he could not, as he was already engaged with Byleth, a commoner and former mercenary. It would not go well over at the Empire, and so Ferdinand stalls and stalls his father.
The tiny hovel was small and poor, the kind of place a Duke's son would never set foot, much less live in, but it was theirs. It was Ferdinand's boots by the door, his weapons scattered randomly, oil staining parts of the tapestry no matter how much either of them scrubbed. It was Byleth's grey robe by the door, her favourite mug left on the counter from her morning coffee, hair ties left in every crevice of the couch.
The professor's usually cool heart hurt looking around the room, and his smell suffocated her, leaving her more choked up than she already was. She looked at the sun out the window, she wagered that Ferdinand should be home, and squared her shoulders. She found him just where she knew he would be, hunched over his working table, fiddling with some strange and horribly rusted blade.
Byleth stood in the door, watching him, for what felt like an eternity. Taking in the pattern of his curls today, the way he bounced his knee, and the back of his shoulders as they rose and fell with each breath.
She knew that he knew she was there. He was well-trained in the martial arts, he must have heard her coming since she set foot on their small produce garden out front. He was a very talented warrior and noble. He was radiant, a glowing force that any man with the power of sight could have felt his imposing presence from a mile away.
All the more reason for Byleth to not be the one to dampen him.
After a while, or probably when he finished whatever he was doing, he placed his project down and stretched. If Byleth was not already feeling devastated, she might have laughed at just how many joints he popped with one movement.
It was a wonder that the former mercenary had managed to shield her feelings from him so well, knowing that he should have felt what was wrong the second he looked at her.
"Hi, angel, how was your day?" Ferdinand finally looked up, a smile softening his features.
The woman could say nothing, staying in the doorway looking away and in absolute silence.
"Byleth?" Ferdinand stood, slowly walking over to her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in.
Just for a second, she told herself, you can indulge yourself in his embrace for only a second. Byleth steeled herself, forcing herself to pull away.
"What's wrong? What's happened?" Ferdinand scrunched his eyebrows, staring down at her.
He was unnerved at how unresponsive she was, scared even. Wanting it all to be over, to be able to never have to do it again, the stoic woman prepared herself to speak.
"I think…" She paused to try to control her tone of voice, as to not betray her feelings. "I think we should stop."
There they were, the words that had been controlling her all day, ever since she read that stupid letter from Duke Aegir, a letter that was not addressed to her, mind you, were finally out.
"Stop? Stop what?" Ferdinand's voice was measured, his words were slow and tentative.
"This. Us" Byleth looked down, unable to look him in the eyes.
"Us. Us? Why? Why would you ever think that? What has happened? Have I done something?" He stuttered and starts to say whatever comes to mind in despair. "Byleth, you cannot just walk in and say that what is it!"
Frantically Ferdinand tried to catch her eyes, ducking his head down into her view. Byleth shook hard, doing everything she could to hold in her breakdown, despite her efforts, tears began to track down her cheeks. She took measured breaths, counting each one.
"I cannot be the one to hold you back." Her voice cracked, more tears leaking through.
"Hold me back? Hold me back from what? You could never hold me back!" Ferdinand raised his voice but did not shout. "You have been, you are my professor. If anything, I am where I am because of you!"
"No, Ferdinand, you do not understand. You must return to the Empire, and you must do it alone. You have to and deserve to be the Prime Minister of them all, to have everything you have ever wanted, but I cannot go with you. It has been your goal for so long and I cannot take that away from you. I will not." Byleth voice shook, but she was determined as ever, trying to just make him understand that this was for him. Not her.
"But I want you, not to be some… Some filthy noble! I want you!" He pleaded.
"Ferdinand, you still do not understand, your place is not at Garreg Mach, is at the Gerousia! My place is here in the monastery, teaching." Byleth sobbed, backing away from him. "Your father is waiting for you. He has a betrothal contract for you to sign and a position for you to assume. You must arrive to Enbarr before the Moon changes."
"No, my place is by your side!" He walked towards her, reaching for her.
She evaded his every attempt, solid in her decision and motives. This hovel is nowhere for a noble to live, and sooner or later he would realize that. It might be a little painful now, but if Duke Aegir makes do with his threat of disinheriting his oldest son, if he comes with a militia to punish them, it shall be much, much worse.
"Byleth, please, stop." Ferdinand begged. "Come here, think about what you are saying. Let us talk about this."
"There is nothing to talk about, Ferdinand. What I am doing is all for you, for your own good, and I will not reconsider." She replied.
"The hell with my own good! I do not want this!" Ferdinand tried again, once more advancing.
Byleth shook her head and backed further away, towards the door. Taking a quick look around the room, she thought of every happy memory here. All the times they cuddled on the couch, the one Saint Cethleann Day they spent here, every moment.
Each called to her, and she longed to answer, to stay, but she could not.
Looking once more at Ferdinand, at his state of disarray. The tears in his eyes, his long and silk-soft ochre hair mussed from his hands, his body shaking. It broke her more than any of the words she said did.
"I am so sorry." She cried, turning around for the final time, grabbing her robe and walking out of the door.
"Byleth! Byleth wait!" Ferdinand lurched forward, desperately calling out for her.
His betrothed, however, was an agile warrior. By the time he reached the door, she was gone. He fell to his knees then and cried. Cried for Byleth, for their life, for the ring she left him on the dining table.
As Byleth walked away, hood drawn, she thought once again of the eagle. Free to soar high above, without anything shackling him to the ground. A force of nature, unbelievable, and so, so beautiful.