Another Three Houses one shot for another one of my favorite characters. This one's long overdue, but I was finally able to get around to it. Enjoy!
I do not own anything.
Oddities Like Us
The calm before the storm, it was something that Byleth was all too used to. Personally, he thought of it as something to be grateful for. Such a time was for preparation, to examine one's weapons, troops, fortifications, and gather one's thoughts. Doing any of those things could put one's mind at ease. He supposed it was better to focus on making sure everything was in order so the battle could be won instead of despairing over what was wrong and were the root causes of the battle to be lost. There was a lot of things that people could do before a battle took place that could help determine rather or not it was won or lost…but then again, there was also only so much one could do. The best battle plan could be devised and carried out, but an unforeseen factor could cause that plan to fail. When that happened, either the battle was lost or one side improvised and struggled to turn disaster back into triumph.
Byleth Eisner knew that the theater of war was a chaotic thing. He fervently rejected the notion that it was like a game of chess, a view endorsed by many a tactician and strategist and planner across the world. Chess was a controlled boardgame, which in his mind, was absolutely, nothing like a real battlefield. At heart, he'd always been slightly happy at that. Personally, he always found a type of beauty in the chaos, the unpredictable nature of it making it impossible to tell what lay ahead. He found a thrill in facing that uncertainty. Of course, he knew that such thrills came with risks. A life time of fighting had taught him that war was never to be taken likely.
It was a bitter irony that in coming to Garreg Mach Monastery, he'd learned the value of peace, yet as he grew to enjoy such a thing, the clouds of war were amassing and finally the storm was here. The very thing he'd spent a year preparing his students for had arrived; Byleth had always quietly dreaded the possibility of the lot of them ever being caught up in an actual war. It had nothing to do with their ability to fight, they could fight well, so well that they'd earned the title of strongest house of this year. He was proud of them…but he was also scared of them. They weren't just his students, they were his…his…his friends, his family, his little cubs. It wasn't just them either, his feelings extended to practically everyone he'd met at the Monastery.
His hand stretched out toward the horizon that lay so far beyond his reach. It was funny, he had the full power of a god coursing through him, yet before the natural course of the world, he was as helpless as any other ordinary person. Of course, he knew he could also die like any ordinary person. Death was inescapable, even for a goddess; his primary weapon was a testament to that fact. Yet, he was fully prepared to use it to keep the death of his loved ones at bay for as long as he could, just like the thousands of others hurrying about the Monastery. It was all they could do-prepare and prepare and prepare. Again, even the best calculated plans could prove insufficient when the battle actually started.
"Any chance that I can shoot wherever it is you're trying to grasp at?"
With a chuckle, he dropped his arm and looked back to his right. "Unless you have an arrow that can stop time, I'm afraid not. Thanks for the offer though."
Shamir smirked at his joke. Almost a year ago, such a statement wouldn't have seemed possible coming out of Byleth's lips. A lot had changed in the last year, for the better and for the worse. A lot had quietly changed within herself. "Hey, maybe one day I'll get lucky and stumble upon such an arrow. I can imagine a few times it'll come in handy." His smile seemed to brighten just a little as she walked over to stand beside him atop the rampart. It was quite a beautiful sunset, one that she imagined a handful were taking the time to enjoy. For all they knew, it could be their last so why not make the most out of it. "Came up here to clear your head for a little bit?"
"As much as I can." Replied the swordsman. "It's…weird, yet familiar. I've never felt this way before a battle before. I think I know why." His green eyes flickered to the archer, who silently nodded indicating that she wanted him to continue. Knowing her, Byleth suspected she already knew what she was about to say. "I've never had something truly precious to protect, now that I do though…I'm…I'm scared. I'm scared of failing them-everyone here in the Monastery. I'm scared of not being able to protect them."
"Does that include me?"
When he looked at her, she could see a twinkle in his eyes. It captivated her and made her heart race a few beats faster, which Shamir tried to clap down on. Doing so was rather difficult as the more she looked at Byleth, the faster her heart seemed to race. When she blinked and opened her eyes, she wasn't sure that it was him she was looking at, but someone else, someone long gone.
At least until he started talking. "Yes, it does. Sorry if that sounds a little…arrogant of me."
Internally berating herself, Shamir kept up a cool front as she responded. "It isn't. We're two comrades…two…friends on the same side of an up incoming battle." As if to mock her, or remind her, a rather harsh wind blew across the Monastery bringing with it a finger-numbing chill. They looked out to the horizon as if searching the land for the source of the cold gale. Some would have remarked it as being an ill-omen, the only thing worse would have been if they saw storm clouds on the horizon heralding rain. "Byleth, the truth is…I'm…" Shamir felt an instinctive impulse to lie to protect herself. It wasn't like she hadn't done it before, but staring into Byleth's leafy green eyes she felt…wrong in doing so. Pushing the feeling aside, she forced the words out of her mouth. "I'm not scared for my life; I've haven't been in years. It's…everyone else's lives that I worry about."
"Then we're the same in that regard." He calmly responded, an oddly serene smile on his face. "Truth be told…I'm…a little happy to feel this way." Catching the way she raised an eyebrow, he elaborated, "What I'm saying is, to worry means that you care about something. For people like us, the first priority is usually worrying about ourselves, right?"
Shamir was silent for a minute before responding. "…More or less. We're mercenaries, or at least…you were. Now you're…"
"I'm…?" Byleth pressed, the makings of a smile on his face. He was clearly baiting her and Shamir didn't know rather to be impressed, happy, or annoyed; she felt the first two more strongly than she did the latter as she could remember when Byleth could barely emote at all. Little by little, he'd learned how to, and at times he seemed to enjoy the journey in that education. Sadly, that didn't mean that he'd lost his ability to mask his thoughts and feelings, something told her he was going to hold onto that skill. "I'm what, Shamir?" He repeated.
"You're…more than just a merc." Finally answered the blue-haired woman. It practically felt like he was attempting to force the answer out of her, which was somewhat frustrating to be honest. She let that frustration show in a heavy-hearted sigh that seemingly amused him. "You used to be just a merc, but then you became a teacher, a damn good teacher at that."
"Thank you, Shamir." Byleth spoke with a smile that made the archer's heart beat a tick faster.
Feeling her cheeks heating up, she buried the image of her blushing. Now was not the time for that, nor was it even possible. Absolutely not. "O-O-On top of that, you're apparently the goddess' chosen one, a-a-and according to word of mouth, L-Lady Rhea's successor. You're…Byleth, you're a strange one."
"I've gotten that a lot." He nonchalantly shrugged, though Shamir detected a sliver of amusement in him. Knowing Byleth, he was fully aware of all the titles and positions she'd just listed. Rather or not he cared for any of them was the question that she would have liked to have had answered. "I never thought I'd be any of those things when I came here to the Monastery. Hell, I didn't even think I'd be here any longer than a couple of days at best."
"Same here." The archer remarked. She saw the way that he was looking at her, the follow-up question that was coming; she already had an answer prepared. "I don't regret staying."
Byleth smiled. In the glow of the sunset, his small but serene smile seemed almost…radiant. Shamir realized what was happening to her and tried to stop it, but she couldn't. Hardened as she was, the Dagdan woman felt mesmerized by the face. At the moment he looked so…calm, serene in fact. Though Shamir had only known Byleth for roughly a year, she'd spent a year studying him from a distance and up close. Like her, he was a person who kept his emotions reserved, though at times Shamir felt Byleth's reservation exceeded her own. Over time, that had changed little by little, cumulating in this moment she was enjoying here.
It was so pleasant, it was easy to forget in a couple of hours, they'd be fighting for their lives and those of their loved ones against the biggest army in all of Fódlan. Now wasn't the time for spacing out, but Shamir knew sometimes that helped take the stress off, which could go a long way when the battle started. She wouldn't say it or show, but Shamir felt something reassuring in Byleth's tranquil demeanor. Looking at him, she almost wondered if he was seeing something different than her.
"The things that I found here is one of the reasons why I plan on staying and fighting with everything that I've got."
Shamir looked at him with silent admiration. "Again…I…guess that makes two of us."
That serene smile was now directed at her, if only from a sideways perspective. Her cheeks heated up, even though she didn't know why. "Ah, so they've grown on you, haven't they?"
She knew he was referring to the students. "A…little." Her heart fluttered a little at the sound of his laughter. "They're a plucky group of kids, though it's doubtful rather or not pluckiness will get them through what's coming." Sighing, she decided to start throwing a little caution to the wind. Shamir had grown comfortable enough around him that she felt she could let some of her walls down; at times he seemed to be willing to do the same in regards to her. "Of course, you've made it so they have more than that going for them. You've taught them how to fight, you've taught them how to survive. They're going to make it through this battle…and…I'm sure they'll be able to survive the storm that's on the horizon. Hell, I'd say that maybe, just maybe, it's the Empire we should be feeling a little sorry for."
A shadow finally fell over the green-haired swordsman's face. "You…heard about what happened to Dimitri in the Holy Tomb, didn't you?"
"…Lady Rhea told us to be mindful of him. She clearly recognized that though he's more than willing to fight and kill, as he is now…he's a danger to us just as much as he is to the enemy. A fighter like that…you best point at the enemy and stay out of their way."
"I can't exactly deny your words, Shamir." He admitted with a sorrowful face.
"It's not like I take any pleasure in it." She couldn't say she had a close relationship with the Faerghus prince, but she saw him as a potential just ruler, the type that Fódlan was in need of. Now, she believed time was going to force Dimitri to assume the crown of Faerghus faster than anyone would have liked. The same went for Claude and the mantle of Alliance leader. "Do you believe that if he manages to kill Edelgard, he'll stop before he goes too far?"
Byleth's eyes narrowed. "Sometimes…that's enough. What Dimitri's bee carrying inside of him for the last several years…it's all going to come bursting out once we meet Edelgard on the battlefield. My heart won't weep for her if he slays her in the same manner as he did her bodyguards…I just worry about what'll come afterward."
"Do you think his demons will rest once he slays the cause of them?" Shamir pressed.
"Maybe…maybe not, but I'm more worried about making sure that Dimitri lives past tomorrow, along with everyone else. Including you, Shamir." Byleth spoke.
Wind blew causing her short hair to be tossed to the side. Shamir wished it hadn't blown so she could make a show of looking disinterested, even though she really wasn't. "Again, that makes two of us. Everyone here at the Monastery, from the knights to the clergy to the students to the people living in town…I've known some of them for years. The thought of them dying, especially those people just trying to live their lives…it just doesn't sit right with me no matter how much I tell myself that it…" His gaze was hard and questioning. "I'm sorry, I guess…that's just the old me, the me that only had myself to worry about. Do you ever have those moments? Times when you find yourself slipping back to being the…old you?"
"From time to time…but I'm happy with the person that I am now." Byleth declared. "What about you?"
"Hm? Me? You…think that I've changed? You didn't know me before I came to the Monastery."
"No, I didn't, but I can see that you've grown attached to the people here. For mercenaries like us…that's not supposed to happen." Byleth declared.
Shamir finally be laughed. "Right on multiple fronts. I've survived this long by trying to not get too attached to anything on any particular mission. I'm a mercenary, that's what I still want to see myself as, and yet…"
"You can be awfully knight-like."
"That would require me to abide by the code of chivalry and all that." The Dagdan woman softly fired back.
"Not quite, more like a code of conduct. Not every knight follows the code of chivalry."
"Some would say such a warrior isn't a true knight then." Shamir coyly offered.
Byleth shrugged. "Maybe, knighthood comes in different forms. I'd say that there's Felix, who follows his own personal code."
"Careful, don't let him hear you talking about him and knighthood in a positive way." Laughed the archer.
Laughing back, Byleth shrugged. "I trust this'll stay between us. Just like a certain incident involve you, me, and Cyril and a giant Hercules beetle will stay private, right?" A hot blush lit up the archer's face, one that many would have assumed her incapable of making. This hadn't been the first time Byleth had made her blush and become flustered with embarrassment; he had every intention of making sure he could do it again in the future. "So, are our respective secrets safe?" He coyly asked.
Having gotten her embarrassment under control via stubbornly crossing her arms, Shamir nodded. "You know, I think I liked it better when you couldn't crack jokes."
"Really?"
"…No. How's about we shelve this discussion and get back onto topic?" The archer declared.
"Which is…?" The swordsman questioned with a raised brow and a bit of a faint smile on his face.
"What we've become instead of mercs. Our lives were simpler as mercs…but I wouldn't exactly say if they were better or not. No, I should say that for myself. For you, Byleth, it's clear that your life has become better since coming to the Monastery."
Byleth laughed again, the soft noise that rode with the evening wind. "Thanks for recognizing the change."
"Practically everyone has seen it-how you've changed since coming to the Monastery to where we are now." Shamir chuckled. "From what I've seen, most people are happy with it…including me." She wasn't blushing at the aside smile he shot her. "Here's hoping though, that with that change, you haven't gone soft. I know come tomorrow we're going to be needing the infamous Ashen Demon's fighting prowess."
His smile slowly melted away as he looked down to his palm. The glow of the setting sun once again painted him in a different light. It definitely complimented his transformed green hair and eyes, both possessing an ethereal glow to them. The first time Shamir had seen them, she was immediately reminded of Rhea's own enchanting hair and eyes. Shamir knew there was a connection there, but she decided not to press it. She'd suppressed her curiosity, and she was going to keep on suppressing it, at least until a time came when she felt it safe to express it. If a break in the up incoming war came, then maybe then. Shamir said break because she knew in her heart this was going to be a long and bloody war.
Sizing him up, she knew that Byleth thought the same; it made his ability to be calm on the eve of battle all the more amazing.
"I've got the emotional drive behind me, that's for sure." He finally said. "Edelgard's spent the last several months running around raising hell and putting the people I care about at risk." In a second, his aura changed. The change was enough to induce momentary unease in Shamir, she saw the darkness swirling within his eyes. "If possible, I'd actually prefer to capture her so I can ring as much information as possible out of her. Then her head can roll from her neck by whoever's blade finds her first."
A surprisingly humorous chuckle rose from the Dagdan woman in spite of the unease she still felt at the dark aura clinging to Byleth. He certainly looked the part of a demon at the moment, one whom she dreaded to meet on the battlefield, which was saying something. "You know, I do somewhat agree with you on that. The more information we can glean about these mysterious sorcerers, the better. Curiously, what about the possibility of forcing her to call off the Empire's officers?"
In the slow shaking of his head, his answer was made apparent before his mouth opened. "From what you described-the bulk of the Adrestian Army is coming under her command. This is going to be all out war, the sort that could only be initiated if a majority of Adrestia's government was behind it. That is apparently the case. Even if we took Edelgard hostage, I predict one of two three things would happen." His right pinkie and thumb were curled inward as he held up his three remaining fingers to symbolize his predictions. "We capture her and somehow get her to call off the army, but it doesn't work as the Adrestians realize they'd sacrificed too much and crossed too many lines, thus choose to keep on fighting." His right ring finger was bent toward his palm. "Possibility number two-we capture Edelgard, but she refuses to comply and attempts to escape multiple times, some of which could be successful and end up costing lives." The middle finger came down next. "That's the one I see most likely to happen if we were to bind her followed by this next one." He added without even looking at her. "Possibility number three…we manage to capture her, but she kills herself."
Shamir adjusted herself against the castle battlement. "I almost feel like that one should have been lumped in with possibility number two, especially since it would lead to the same outcome, if not worse. We'll have the Adrestians now using avenging their leader as a rallying cry."
"Yes, and I believe that would make the situation worse-namely we'd have Adrestian soldiers more determined than they already are to fight and kill any Kingdom, Alliance, or Church soldier they come across." The last finger had came down leaving Byleth with a tightened fist. "No matter which one you choose, if any, too much has been set in motion for this war to be stopped. At least not without something drastic."
"A part of me is tempted to offer the solution of assassinating all of the heads of the Imperial government thus stopping this whole thing dead in its tracks leaving a leaderless army. You think it would flame out?" Shamir offered, genuinely curious as to what his response would be.
He gave a shrug. "Potentially, though I imagine you'd have some hotshot and scheming officers think they can take power. The situation would be ripe for that sort of thing, and there'd been one or two with those sorts of delusions of grandeur."
"There always are. I can tell you that we've even got some young knights who think this up incoming war will be their chance to earn some glory." The blue-haired woman added.
"Those are the ones that I worry about." Byleth noted.
"I figured that you would." Shamir laughed. "For a guy known for his stoicism in response to anything, even the goriest of battles, you can be awfully sentimental."
Laughing at her response he cocked his head to the side. "Suppose I can be, I suppose life at the Monastery has made me so. That said…I have gone soft enough that I won't cut down an enemy that appears before me, especially if they plan on destroying the Monastery or harming the people in it."
"Ah…that's comforting to hear. I can tell you we're going to need the legendary swordsman that you were made out to be."
Byleth looked down between the stone ledge and the landscape beyond. "I wish that…he could have been here with us. He would have been a better commander than me."
Shamir had a feeling that the topic if his father was going to come up. She'd been expecting it, and she was ready for it. "It's a tragedy he's not here with us, but we're still lucky that you're here, with us, Byleth." Physical affection wasn't something she excelled at, but for the few people whom Shamir considered close to her heart, she was willing to try. With Byleth, she hoped a hand on the shoulder and her hopefully soothing words would be enough, she truly did. "We have you with us to fight Edelgard and Adrestia, and for that…I'd…say we're lucky. Especially since apparently, you're the goddess' chosen one and you seem to have a semi-firm handle on your divine powers. I can say the healing part is certainly going to come in handy."
They were enough to get a truly warm smile out of him. "Thanks, but don't go getting yourself cut up too much even though I'll be there to put you back together."
"Please, that's the sort of thing you should be saying to Catherine and Alois. I'm an archer, remember."
"One who needs how to wield a spear for some more close-quarters combat."
The two former mercenaries let laughter ring from their lips. For just a little while, they were able to further submerge themselves in the tranquility of the moment. Byleth was reminded of the words the Archbishop had spoken as he awoke after his slaying of Solon in the forest. Moments like this…yeah, I wish they could last forever. Feeling whimsical, he stretched out his hand, palms open and his fingers overlaying with the last rays of sunlight.
"Think if you stretch your hand out far enough you'll be able to hold the sun in your hands?" Inquired the foreign woman.
His chronokinetic abilities were a secret to everyone, including the people closest to him. Not even his own father had known about Divine Pulse while he was alive; Byleth had always wished he could tell him. He wished that it was strong enough he could have saved the only family he had ever had. Ever since that rainy day, he'd wished he had the power to full control time as Sothis had so cryptically implied. Then again, she'd also told him that even her power wasn't enough to challenge what "fate" had decreed. That didn't mean that Byleth couldn't try, like he was trying to now; he was just thankfully that Shamir was confusing his efforts for him attempting to grasp the setting sun. Well, she wasn't entirely off mark. After all, if he could stop the sun from setting, he could freeze time, prolonging this blissful moment indefinitely.
He wished he had the power to do that, but he didn't. "One could wish. Shamir," Dropping his head, he fully faced toward her, her face illuminated by the sunset he failed to grasp. Byleth had always found her to be physically attractive, but looking at her in this moment…he felt something within him, his heart, pounding within his chest. Looking at her face made it hard for him to concentration, and he was trying hard. "Shamir," he repeated again trying to use her name to focus. "Tomorrow…when…when tomorrow comes-"
"I'll see you when the battle's over." His eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's…what you were going to say, right?"
"Y-Y-Yeah. I-I know it's a little redundant, but…"
"It's fine, Byleth." She looked away from him, seemingly unable to look him in the eye. "I was…actually going to say something similar to you. When the battle starts tomorrow, don't die. There's…still a lot more for you to do with your life."
"…Like go see Dagda, with you." He stated.
A small chuckle rose from her lips. "You're really serious about that?"
"It's your homeland, and I want to see it." He shrugged. "Besides, I haven't been to Dagda since the war ended…and I don't think you have either."
"I haven't been in a big hurry to go back." She stopped short of saying she didn't have a reason to go back, she did, but it wasn't one she liked to publicize. As far as most people would assume upon meeting her, she was an orphan. Only a handful knew that wasn't true. Byleth certainly knew that wasn't true, he also knew just because she didn't talk about her family didn't mean that she didn't care about them. "You said if I ever went back to Dagda…you'd come with me. If I chose to stay there permanently…would you…stay with me?" Immediately after asking the question, Shamir kicked herself for doing so. Where the hell had that come from?
"…I'd say for as long as I could, but…"
In spite of her mental chastising, Shamir smiled at him. "Fódlan, the Monastery, this is home, isn't it?"
"Yes…it is."
"…Then we'll come back to it. I'm sure my family is getting along fine without me being there." Without even looking, she could tell he was shocked. Giving into temptation and looking at out of the corner of her eye, she saw relief. "I guess I've…put down a few roots here, though I didn't intend to."
"What we intend to do and what we ultimately end up doing can be two different things."
Shamir laughed again. "Spoken like a true professor, which I think you'll go back to being when all of this is over with."
"I'd like to. What about you, Shamir?"
"Hm, what about me? I still see myself as a merc…one that's…gotten greatly attached to her current job."
"So, after all of this is over with, you'll be sticking around?" Byleth inquired yet again with a blooming smile.
"…Live past tomorrow and the battles after, and you'll see." The archer responded with a wink that brought a brighter smile to his face. That in turn caused Shamir to smile back at him, quite warmly at that.
Their eyes met as the smiles on their faces reached peak brightness. Neither of them said a word as they moved their hands toward one another. Suddenly, Byleth's stopped, which in turn caused Shamir's to stop; fear seized her by the heart and sent its cold waves throughout her body. Had she overstepped her boundaries? Did Byleth believe he'd done so? Her heart beat a solemn drum in her ears as she watched him remove his glove exposing his naked hand to her. Shamir could only blink in surprise at it, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Had it really been that long since she'd seen a hand, not covered in combat gloves or gauntlets? How often did she take her gloves off, even when going to sleep?
Shamir didn't realize she was taking them off until she felt the warmth of Byleth's palm against hers. Once she realized it, she didn't feel any impulse to pull away, Shamir quietly accepted that she didn't want to pull away. Not from Byleth, not from the warmth, not from the kindness, not from the light that he possessed and shared with her. What the hell was she thinking? What the hell was he thinking?
"Then that's a promise." Byleth spoke still giving her that shining smile that made it seem like the sun was rising instead of falling.
Somehow, Shamir believed it was. "Yeah, it is."
Even before the sun completely set, the suffocating blanket of darkness had already fallen over the Knights of Seiros and their allied forces.
It was over, the Battle of Garreg Mach was over.
They'd put up a good fight, better than some would have expected, but it didn't matter. They'd lost; they'd lost the battle and they'd lost the Monastery, something that stung practically everyone. Including her.
The Monastery had been a home, it had become her home, regardless of what she told herself and vocally proclaimed to her peers. Garreg Mach Monastery was her home, and she'd just lost it. She made friends at the Monastery, associates, some of whom she'd just lost. Just like she'd lost her last partner, her lover.
Shamir could feel herself beginning to tremble an hour after they retreated from the Monastery, fleeing through the mountains. The fact that that they'd have to flee through the surrounding Oghma Mountains was an open secret that most people had quietly accepted, but to do so in this manner, practically with their tails between their legs after such an intense struggle…it left a bad taste in everyone's mouths to say the least, and that wasn't even account for what and who they'd lost. They'd lost many, including the Archbishop herself…and potentially her successor.
A crescent moon hung in the skies above Fódlan. According to a few, it was a wanning crescent moon; it wasn't the kind of information a recovering army wanted to hear. Shamir certainly didn't need to hear it.
Then again, a crescent moon met that darkness had an edge, she could use that.
Stealth had always been her strong point to the point that several had remarked she would have made a good assassin. Only a handful knew she actually had served as an assassin before. Serving as a scout typically involved less bloodshed, but if she had to shed some blood for this, then so be it.
She walked through camp like a ghost, probably looking the part as well. It wasn't like she was alone as everyone was looking incredibly disheveled, especially the Blue Lions.
Her vision felt blurry, yet she forced it to remain clear enough for her to watch where she was going. That took energy that she was expanding in walking and occasionally moving to the side to avoid hitting people. Plenty of people were seemingly walking around in a daze, many of them sporting injuries. Shamir was injured as well, her left arm practically in need of being in a sling and a nasty cut on her right left that practically had her limping, every step she took seemed to drain more of her already exhausted stamina. She shouldn't have been walking, she should have been resting. She couldn't afford to rest, not until she knew where he was, not until she'd seen him with her own eyes. Until she'd seen him alive.
Shamir wouldn't stop until she could reach out and…and…
"Stop, Shamir."
The voice hit her like an arrow to the base of the neck. "…No." She declared then began to keep on walking, or rather, limping forward. The footsteps she heard quickly gave way to reveal her partner and best friend. Like her, like everyone else, Catherine had seen better days Both of her arms were bandaged up to the elbows with bandages on her cheek and one wrapped around her head. She was out of armor, it have been practically torn to shreds leaving her in dirty and even bloodstained undergarments. Shamir briefly searched her for Thunderbrand, internally she sighed in relief as she found it nowhere in sight, probably safe at her bedside which she'd left.
But that didn't mean that the blonde woman was incapable of acting without it.
"Dammit, Shamir, I'm serious about this!" She shouted, her blue eyes hardening as they glared at her. "Look at yourself, you're in no condition to go out on a half-cocked rescue mission!"
"Then what? I'm supposed to just leave him back there?" Shot back the archer, her violet eyes heating up. She couldn't remember the last time she and Catherine had an argument like this, and it was over a guy of all things. "You're not going to stop me."
"Oh, I sure as hell am!" Shot back the swordswoman. "And if I can stop you, what the hell do you think you'll be able to do against hundreds of Adrestian soldiers! You'll be taken prisoner at best or killed at worst. Is that what Byleth would have wanted?"
Normally, Shamir didn't get violet, not unless she was seriously provoked. In her current state, Catherine's accusation shattered every tether of restraint she had. Her right fist was reared back and launched with the target being Catherine's face. Though she was as banged up as everyone else, perhaps a little more, the former noblewoman caught her fist. Catherine stared back at her, the anger slowly giving way to sympathy. It was a match thrown into a pile of firewood, Shamir shook her head, refusing to let it ignite. Her left fist went forward next, only to be caught. That left her with only one option; from the looks of things, Catherine probably wouldn't be able to take a blow to the head. Shamir probably couldn't either, but she wasn't in the right frame of mind to care.
Luckily for both of them, Catherine acted faster.
One minute she was standing and the next she was on her knees, the knight's arms wrapped around her, restraining her while at the same time comforting her. Shamir struggled against her embrace, but she had neither the physical strength nor the will to push her off. What clenched it were the sound of tears.
"P-P-Please…d-d-don't go. W-W-We can't…I can't…I can't lose you too. Not you too, Shamir, please." Whimpered the woman who'd been standing strong in front of her mere seconds ago. That strength had been expanded leaving behind the same desperation and pain that had consumed Shamir.
It called out to her own and got her to stop struggling. What loose restraints she had, the walls she'd hastily thrown up in the battle's aftermath, all came crumbling down. "He…he can't be…he just…can't be…"
"He isn't, Shamir. We both know he isn't dead…everyone knows he isn't…he can't be. Neither him nor Lady Rhea. They're alive." The Faerghus native whispered. Though it was meant to reassure her, Shamir knew Catherine was trying to reassure herself as well.
Ironic that she was the one trying to reassure her, serving as her pillar of strength/, or at least attempting to. So far, Shamir could say Catherine was doing a good job. She'd be able to hold this over her head, that was for sure.
"Byleth," she whispered having gotten some modicum of control over herself. This was so incredibly unlike her, losing control of her emotions like this. "H-He's…he's alive…he is alive."
"Damn right, he is." Affirmed the swordswoman. "He's out there and we're going to find him, or knowing Byleth, he'll find us. There's no way in hell one of those Imperial bastards or Edelgard herself did him in."
At the very least Shamir knew that second part for certain. She hadn't been up close, but she'd heard of how he and Dimitri had confronted Edelgard together and managed to defeat her in personal combat. Defeat…but not kill, something that was clearly contributing to the Faerghus prince's darkened mood. Thinking about it made Shamir think of one aspect of their previous conversation yesterday, hypothetical what-ifs if they met Edelgard on the battlefield. Knowing Byleth, he'd probably tried hard to slay the newly crowned Adrestian Emperor while keeping a hold on his raging royal pupil. In the end though, they'd beaten her, but not killed her.
Shamir honestly didn't care about any of that though. She didn't care about plans, revenge, or even the fact that Fódlan was now at war. The archer had seen war before, lived through it countless times, but…this one was different. For the first time in years, there was someone she wanted to live through it with, to see the end of it beside. They were supposed to live through this war together.
What the hell kind of thinking was that? This was war, there were no guarantees save for death, whose death was the question.
What the hell happened to me? What the hell did you do to me, Byleth? How could you…H-How could you do this to me then just…just…just…how could I let this happen?
"So, after all of this is over with, you'll be sticking around?" Had he been trying to keep the focus on her survival instead of his own?
"…Live past tomorrow and the battles after, and you'll see." She'd taken his presence for granted, only at the end realizing how precious it was. Precious in the same way Isaiah's had been.
"Then that's a promise."
She was a broken and battered wreck just like practically everyone else in camp; Shamir felt a strange kinship in that. Grief had a way of uniting people, and strengthening them. The latter was what she was looking at.
Byleth was alive, and she would find him. She would fight on until she found him, and when she did, they'd continue to fight until this war was over. Afterward…well, Shamir felt it was dangerous to think about the future, especially after what had just happened. She never considered herself a superstitious or spiritual person, but for the aching pain in her heart…
It was familiar to her, which made her loath it all the more. For the first time in years, she let that pain flow out in the tears that slid from her eyes. Catherine continued to hold her while easing them up. Neither of them should have been up and walking, they could practically hear Byleth and Rhea scolding them for doing so. Shamir in particular couldn't help but focus on the thought of Byleth chastising her for walking around in her state as he did his own students. He was on his way to becoming quite a mother hen, something Shamir would have liked to see.
I'll see you again, because…you're not dead, Byleth. She told herself through the pain of every step. When I do see you again…I'll tell you what I am. By then…maybe I'll have a real answer to give you.
"Your lance work has gotten better." Byleth would have liked to say it was his five years of sleeping for his…awkward responses. It was entirely possible that it was just him-Byleth knew himself to know that social interaction wasn't his forte, even if he had made progress. Even when it came to people he cared about, he could…struggle at times to find the right words, or what he believed were the right words. He cared a great deal about Shamir.
To his surprise, she smiled at him. "Well, I had two things going for me: the chance to get some genuine combat experience, and remembering the teachings of a certain someone who knew his way around practically every weapon known to man."
His lips easily curved into a bright smile that looked good on him. "Good to know my students weren't the only ones retaining everything that I'd taught them."
"War tends to force you to keep up on such lessons. They can mean the difference between life and death." Her gloved fingers laced together as her eyes moved away from Byleth to the ground. The like the rest of the Monastery, nature's grasp had risen up to strangle the training area. Lines of grass snaked their way throughout the stone tiles of the training ground and moss and vines climbed the pillars that encircled the small arena. Hanging over all of it were layers of hardened snow, some of which had been crushed under the weight of the two warriors during their sparring session. It wasn't at all new for them-sparring in the snow; they'd both fought in it countless times before.
On Shamir's end, it hadn't been easy for the last five years. She looked up to the gray sky and found snow had begun to fall.
"Seems I came back just in time for winter." Byleth mused looking up and seeing the continued fall of snowflakes. Sorrow covered his face as he held out his had to catch the fall snow.
"Some would say you came back at a good time. We could use the power of the Crest of Flames." The Dagdan archer half-heartedly joked.
Flashing her a smirk, he ignited an emerald green flame in his palm, its glow illuminating their faces and its warmth quickly enveloping both of them. "You mean this kind of power?"
Laughing, Shamir moved her hand over the flame, feeling its warmth directly flow into her. Within seconds, memories from five years ago flooded her mind. Unlike all the previous times, there was no pain that accompanied them as Byleth was finally beside her. The warmth she cradled in her hands was real and not an illusion. She turned her entire body so that she was facing him, both of her hands at the side of the emerald flame burning in Byleth's palm. Closing her eyes, she felt herself drifting backwards in time, not to five years before, but further back. Normally, Shamir would have gently rejected letting her mind wonder that far back, but in this case, with Byleth beside her, she didn't see the harm in it. In fact, she actually enjoyed the reminiscing.
For his part, the normally stoic man was quiet, but he was far from emotionally detached. His face bore a gentle smile as he looked to Shamir, quietly enjoying the serene smile that that she now held. It was warm and emotional, two things that usually didn't apply to the archer. Still, there were exceptions, like this moment here and several others that had came before it.
Snow continued to fall all around them, the winds of winter continuing to travel through the reclaimed Monastery. Thanks to his little flame, neither of the former mercenaries were touched by them. The bubble of warmth that surrounded them seemed impregnable, which was how they wanted it.
"Shamir," Spoke the green-haired swordsman.
"You're not going to apologize to me again, are you?" She coyly asked.
His head fell breaking the eye-to-eye contact they'd previously had. "I feel like I have to, I left all of you for five years."
"Not by your choice." Defiantly the declared blue-haired archer. "Byleth, you were fighting, you went back to help Rhea against an army of thousands. Divine power or not, anyone would find those odds tough to handle."
When he shook his head, Shamir had a feeling that he knew something she didn't. She questioned if she would be able to coax that something out of him. "In the five years I've been gone, Fódlan went to hell."
"It would have gone with or without you here, Byleth. That sort of thing tends to happen when the strongest military power in land decides it wans to restart its imperial ways. That said…these last five years of hell would have been nice with you at our side." Her heartrate beginning to kick up, Shamir raised her left hand, her palm touching the top of Byleth's right hand. His eyes briefly widened at the physical contact. Shamir's already pulsing heart suddenly started to race as the warmth she'd been experiencing was magnified. "The important thing is that you're here with us now. With you here…people are getting hopefully. Hell, some even believe you can help bring back Dimitri's sanity."
"Well, I certainly plan on trying to do that." To say he'd been heartbroken at his royal student's state of being would have been an understatement. The second he'd seen Dimitri, he knew it was him, yet at the same time attempted to reject that truth. A bloody lance in hand, crunched over in the ruins of the monastery covered in snow and blood, his now one blue eye cackling with malice and loneness, could this broken shell of a man have been his former student? The rational side of him immediately concluded that yes, of course it was Dimitri; he hadn't been in the best mental shape before he was blasted down that gorge and slept for five years. "I know it's not going to be easy, nor is it going to be easy trying to win this war."
"No, but we all have faith in you." A wintery howl rushed through the Monastery. To Shamir, it felt like it was trying to coax her, force her to speak the words that she'd held tightly within her since Byleth's return. "Everyone was…hoping that you'd come back, including…me." There it was, the first of what had probably been a confession almost two days in the making. That was the first bit of it, did she really have to go on?
"I'm…happy to hear that you didn't give up on me, Shamir." His voice was filled with relief, as was his smile.
"Byleth, you're one person I'll never give up on." He seemed to have this ability to compel words out of her mouth, words that represented the feelings in her heart that she tried to keep hidden. With him though, those feelings tended to slip out every now and then. Curling her fingers against his hand, she quietly mused how maybe, just maybe, that wasn't so bad. "If anything, I think I can speak for a few members of our little resistance when I say…thank you for not giving up on us."
"You should know me by now. When it comes to my friends and my students, I never give up on them." He laughed, his jubilant expression nearly as warm as the fire in his hand. "On top of that, a challenge like this? Taking on an empire on the war march while backed by a shadowy cabal of sorcerers? That's the kind of challenge I've always dreamed of."
"Heheheh, seriously?" Giggled the Dagdan archer no longer fighting her surging feelings.
"Again, you should know me by now." Coyly fired back the Enlightened One.
She did know him. Contrary to what one might have thought, there was quite a curious and even playful mind behind the swordsman's stoic demeanor. Byleth wasn't the type one would think would ever be interested in heroic fantasies and epics, but as Shamir had learned, he was. "So, I guess this is the start of the story's second half, huh? When the hero returns to his comrades to help turn the tide of the war and save the land from death, destruction, and tyranny?"
"Suppose it is. We've got a lot of chapters to go before we get to the end…but I'm sure it'll be a happy, if perhaps bittersweet one." He responded.
"What makes you sure about that?" Shamir questioned, genuinely curious.
He fixed her with a smile that wasn't melancholic but confident. Shamir was utterly transfixed on it, it shined brighter than the flame in his palm, comparable to a sun in its radiance. "Because, we're the ones writing this story, and we're the ones who're going to decide how it ends." His words matched his outward bravado.
Strangest of all, Shamir found herself believing it.
"How this story ends…" She repeated. It wasn't the first time she'd heard the idea of self-determination in regards to one's own life. Shamir believed it, while she admitted that she wasn't strong enough to stand against the crashing waves of life, she knew how to keep herself from going under and swim in the direction that she wanted. That easier to do when there was a light to guide him, one being held by someone else instead of being lit by her. Even stranger, she wanted to struggle swim toward that light, take in her hands and hold it tight.
That impulse seized her, guided her arms instead of her mind. Clasping her hands around a cackling flame was one of the stupidest things a person could have done, especially an archer in the middle of a war. The rational side of Shamir's brain screamed in angry protest, but it was too late to stop. It turned out she had little reason to worry.
Byleth had watched as she closed her hands around his green flames, utterly mesmerized by them or something he'd said. Seeing the former, he thought of quelling the flame, but a tiny voice in his head told him not to. It told him to focus, and focus he did. A relieved sigh fell from his lips as Shamir's glove-covered hands touched the emerald flames. She was visibly shocked to find they didn't burn her, yet they continued to warm her palms. Shamir looked to him for an explanation. Byleth wanted to give her one, yet all he found himself doing was smiling back at her.
This was the first "moment" that they'd had since the latter's return. Though he'd caught up with his old students and allies, Shamir was someone…different, someone special. Such feelings went both ways as Shamir secretly admitted she'd been hoping to get some…alone time with Byleth. Not for anything romantic, or at least that's what she told herself. To have that moment is why she agreed to this little sparring session. The bow had always been her weapon of choice, but Byleth had sensed potential for the way of the spear within her and thus took to tutoring her. Shamir wouldn't say that she'd come to enjoy the training sessions not simply for the practical effects, but for Byleth's company. He'd become like the flame that she now had her hands clasped around-warm and soothing.
Shamir knew on some level she was lying to herself, that his presence wasn't that of just a friend. She knew it, but she wasn't ready to accept the truth, not yet. In light of the situation they were facing, that was potentially dangerous.
"You know, it's strange, you're the last guy that anyone would have thought to do something like this." She said referring to the moment they were sharing amidst the snow.
Byleth was quite aware of it. "Well, they say people change. I like to think I've changed."
"You have…and I think I speak for everyone when I say it's a good change. It's one that's going to make you the leader we need you to be. No offense…but Dimitri's not in his right mind, and Seteth notes that even he can't rally and inspire people the same way you can." Shamir explained already knowing what his response would be.
"I'm hoping I've changed enough that I can drag someone else out of their despair. I'm also hoping that I've…changed enough that I can fill my father's shoes."
"You will. At least…for what it's worth, I think you're-"
"Byleth! Byleth, are you here! You're needed!" Shouted a male voice both former mercenaries recognized as belonging to Alois.
Shooting straight up, they saw it wasn't just him. To their mutual surprise, they saw Catherine and Flayn seconds away from berating the axe-wielder, who seemed to realize he'd just intruded on a private moment the latter two were attempting to prolong. Catherine in particular looked rather peeved that her best friend's moment had just been interrupted. Of course, their reveal brought another question to the pair of former merc's, exactly how long had Catherine and Flayn been watching them?
Shamir felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
If Byleth felt the same thing, he didn't show it, there were apparently more important things to think about. "What's happened?" He asked, his voice and face deadly serious.
The trio immediately followed suit in mirroring his attitude. "We're calling an emergency war council. It's…looking like we may have been spotted." Catherine declared.
"And you're just now telling us?" Shamir questioned, letting her annoyance show.
The blonde knight shrugged at her with a grin. "You two were having a moment."
"Quite a nice moment." Flayn chirped. Shamir's attempted glare deflated upon seeing her genuine happy expression. Byleth himself seemed to take some solace in it. "Um, sorry about that. We just…"
"Don't worry." Looking back to Shamir, he smiled at her, which caused her to blush, something she only realized thanks to Catherine's snickering.
She'd get her back for that, likely after this up incoming battle…which she and Byleth were going to survive.
"She's quite protective of you, Professor, though I can fully understand the sentiment." Dimitri leisurely inquired. "You know, I find it quite coincidentally that both of us have ended up with such stalwart protectors."
"It is funny, isn't it?" Byleth laughed. "Granted, they're both pretty opposite of each other in some areas, but similar in others."
Said stalwart protectors gave little input on the opinions of their charges, as was their nature, most of the time. What was agreed upon was the Enlightened One's latter statement. They certainly were alike in that they were the "silent guardian" types, albeit only one had ever really trained for that role. Obviously, that was Dedue, who'd made his presence very much clear during the attempted parlay with Edelgard. Though he was primarily there for his king, he was also ready to defend his old teacher, his comrade, and his friend. Of course, Byleth had his own protector, one whose style of combat was polar opposite of the Duscurian. Where as he was the mighty and ever-visible bear, she was the silent and sneaky fox, observing from the shadows. Just as Dedue was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, so too was Shamir.
Beside the green-haired swordsman, Shamir appeared seemingly out of thin air. In reality, it was thanks to the cloak that she wore, a mystical shroud that masked her physical and some of her spiritual presence. It'd been enough to fool Edelgard, and even Hubert, at least up until the last minute or two of the parlay, not that it mattered. The archer felt a twinkle of pride knowing that she'd successfully hidden from the Emperor's Hand. If she wanted to she could have tried to put an arrow in both of their heads. Even if they'd been intercepted, Dedue could have moved fast enough to cut the Emperor down, and if not her, Byleth or Dimitri could have done so. Any other time, that's what would have happened; some would have argued that's what should have happened. Shamir admittedly wouldn't have been opposed to such a cutthroat attack.
"All things considered, that didn't go as bad as I thought it would." Innocently chirped the Dadgan archer. "At least they managed to keep it civil."
"I'm more pleased by the fact she didn't try to kill us." Dedue spoke.
"I'm sure Hubert might have advocated for that, just as we had some on our side who tried to do the same." Byleth declared. His shot Shamir a small smile that she innocently returned, then he looked to Dimitri. "You gave it your best."
"I…suppose I did. I tried diplomacy…and I wish that she'd chosen that path as well." Sighed the blond. He knew that it was a long shot, near impossible to be honest. After coming back from the brink, he believed that there was always a light that could flicker in the darkness. Rather or not it could be reached was another matter entirely. He'd tried, and he hoped that Edelgard would be able to try to. "Huh?"
His single eye glanced down to find a fist balled at his chest. Dimitri's lone eye softened as it moved from the fist to the man it belonged to.
"If we have to go through Edelgard to end this war, then so be it. She's made it clear she believes the same in killing us." Byleth declared. "But we're not going to let that happen. The bloodstained future she's envisioning, we won't let it be realized, will we?"
"No…we won't." Quietly affirmed the prince-turned-king, his lips curving into a warm smile. He wasn't alone as his faithful retainer and foreign archer smiled in agreement. "Thank you, Professor."
"Just doing my job as your advisor." Byleth affirmed with smile as he faced ahead. It would take only ten minutes or so for them to return to camp. No doubt everyone would be eager to receive the news. He knew only a handful were expecting them to come back having brokered anything so much as a ceasefire, even fewer believed they could broker some sort of peace treaty. Personally, Byleth didn't, but he was willing to give it a shot alongside Dimitri. He wouldn't let it be said that they didn't try.
His gaze flickered to the archer at his left side. Just as his student had Dedue, Byleth seemed to have gained Shamir as his partner and shadow. Looking back, it perhaps started back before the Siege of Garreg Mach Monastery, in the months leading up to it. They'd gotten closer, close enough that he could call her a friend, and she was willing to acknowledge him as such. Time hadn't dulled the bond between them, in some ways it'd strengthened it. Or perhaps that had been the war that they'd spent the last year fighting, the war that had just entered its final stretch.
-o-
"If I told you to go with Catherine to secure Rhea and the other prisoners, would you do it?"
Though she saw the question coming, Shamir still looked a tad offended at the request. Arms crossed, she fixed him with a raised eyebrow. "Er, no, I don't think I would."
Sighing, he threw up his hands. "Then I won't ask." He could tell she was waiting for him to order her to go with the rescue party, she was readying herself to defy him. "Watch my back like you always do, Shamir." Byleth declared with a laugh.
His words caught her off-guard, which was his intention. He let it show in his laughter, which Shamir responded to with a glare. Byleth continued to chuckle which caused her to glare even harder at him, the response he got was the same.
"You know," she started leaning back with a look of faux annoyance on her face. "I think I liked you better when you were practically dead to the world."
"If I were that same person, I'm pretty sure we wouldn't be sitting here, would we?" He coolly fired back with a bit of a smirk.
Rather than scowl, Shamir returned the smirk. Who'd have thought his true personality would be so cheeky? Shamir couldn't say she was repulsed by it, in fact, she actually found it attractive from time to time. He was quick with a blade, a bow, a spear, his fists, and recently his words. Most of the time, he wielded such talents for good, sometimes.
"You know, it almost feels…poetic that I'm going to Enbarr with the intention of putting an end to the Empire." She spoke in a quiet voice.
"Can you feel the ghosts of your fellow Dagdans pushing you forward? Clamoring for you to take as many Adrestian heads as possible?"
"Hm, not quite, though I will say I'm likely living the dream of countless of my countrymen." Though she spoke to him, part of her attention had gone to the set of arrows that he'd fashioned for her, anti-magic arrows at that. Like her, Byleth had a wellspring of combat knowledge. Unlike her, he took a more proactive stance in preparing himself-that included fashioning specialized weapons. It was a skill that Shamir had always found admirable, attractive even. She'd lost count of how many arrows he'd crafted for her, arrows, bows, and even spears. He didn't just know how to use weapons; he'd learned a thing or two about how to make them and keep them in working order.
At her side lay two such examples of his craftsmanship, or more accurately, his blacksmithing ability. Beside her quiver lay her bow, a glittering silver weapon that gave off a faint whitish-blue light. It wasn't just the reflective shine from the candles, it was the weapon's ow benign magical enchantment. It wasn't the only one. Behind her lay her secondary weapon, an impressive-looking spear whose blade lay wrapped in navy-blue bandages, keeping its own magical energy contained. Come tomorrow it would be unwrapped and its power able to run wild, just as her bow would see use, perhaps it's greatest use.
Tomorrow, Shamir believed would be the most important day of her life.
"I wasn't there for the Battle of Zoar." She declared. Byleth knew his history, especially his war history. Zoar was at one point the capital city of what had once been a unified Dagda. He'd never visited it himself, but he'd seen it from the outskirts; from what he saw, it was a glorious city, having stood strong for apparently six-hundred years. After the Imperial Army had breeched its gates, it became a desecrated corpse. "I…only heard from word of mouth what had happened to it, the devastation that the Adrestians recked upon it."
"Some veterans told me about it, about how they nearly burned the city to the ground. Neither me nor Dimitri or Seteth is going to let that happen to Enbarr. I won allow it." He affirmed.
"I know you won't." She replied, even smiling at him. If her fellow Dagdans could have seen her, some would have been enraged at her response. Byleth knew that there was a sizable chunk of their own army that would have disagreed with his statement. Some made no secret of wanting to see Enbarr burn, its inhabitants potentially included. "You didn't ask to become a savior, but you've done a great job so far. It's my job to make sure you stay alive so you can keep on doing that."
"A savior, huh?"
"Still not used to the title, are you?" She laughed.
Smiling, he shook his head. "For all my life, all I've been is a warrior, drifting from one battlefield to another. The reasons were never of any particular interest to me. Someone came at me with a sword, I raised mine and did my damnedest to cut them down. In some ways…that's still me,"
"But," Shamir pressed, her smile growing just a little more.
Byleth laughed. "But I've gained reasons to fight, and reasons to try hard to end the fighting with as little bloodshed as possible. Heh, an ironic thing for the Ashen Demon to say, don't you think?"
"Well, you're the Divine Demon now." Shamir happily retorted. Byleth chuckled and shook his head. It was a nickname that he quietly accepted was going to stick with him for the rest of his life in Fódlan. Admittedly, it was a little better than his old nickname, which inspired nothing but dread. "You remember your original theory, that if we kill Edelgard the Adrestian war machine might lose its momentum."
"I do…but the plan has been rendered fifty-percent mute by now. We've exhausted the war machine and dealt it several crippling blows, though I suppose the original idea still stands. If we can kill Edelgard and capture Enbarr…the war's over"
"And so's the Adrestian Empire." Byleth mused.
The archer shrugged her shoulders. "Unlike Ferdinand, I won't be shedding any tears over it. I have no attachment to it. My attachments lie with the Monastery…and the people I it. Including the guy sitting in front of me." A year ago, she would have been reluctant to add that last part, but everything between then and now had changed her view. Removing her left-glove, she reached toward. "Byleth," she spoke as he did the same with his right-hand glove. Shamir felt electricity cackling between their now connected fingers. "Could I…I…"
"If I asked you to stay here the night…would you do it?" He spoke as she struggled to find the courage to voice her ow words.
Her eyebrows rose in surprise and her cheeks blazed red. "Yes, yes, I…I-I m-m-mean, I-I-I suppose so. A-A-After that meeting, i-it's possible that some Imperials may try to sneak into camp to assassinate you. I-It's for the best that I…" The more she spoke, the more the excuse fell apart. This was unbelievable! She was practically degenerating into a love-struck school girl! No different than Bernadetta!
Though she looked away, Byleth could see the blush still eating away at his admirer's face. Plus, her hand was still connected to his. He gave it a soft squeeze, "Thank you, Shamir."
Looking back at him while still blushing, she laughed.
Hours passed and night fell, and with it, sleep found them, or at least it tried to find everyone. It was only natural that some stayed up late into the night, namely Byleth, Dimitri, Seteth, Gilbert, and the rest of the army's commanding officers. Tomorrow they would assault Enbarr's front gates, smash through them, and afterward continue onward through the city and to the Imperial Palace itself. There, they would kill Edelgard and end the war. That was the plan anyway. On paper, it was simple, making it a reality would no doubt be much, much harder. Its realization was what the men and women of the United Faerghus Army agonized over for hours until they felt they had thought about it all they could.
The time would come for them to roll the die and see how things panned out.
Byleth quietly accepted that as he returned to his tent alongside Shamir. She placed a hand on his shoulder, silently affirming her confidence in him. In the look that followed, they both knew what was going to happen next.
When one thought of guard duty, they might have thought of Dedue, Dimitri's ever loyal attendant. He stood outside the king's tent, standing as impervious as he did in broad daylight. No harm would come to his lord while he slept the night before the final battle. Well, his lord and his lady apparent. Marianne was the only person he let pass, and he did so with a bit of a smile, nor would he carry out his guard duty alone. Rather than spend the night in her tent, Mercedes had decided to spend it beside the Armored Knight. It was clear he enjoyed the company.
But Shamir didn't go that route in terms of her guarding of her person of interest. Her way was more…intimate.
Their armor and weapons lay to the side, along with their ordinary clothing leaving them in their pants and undershirts. They were practically naked, but it didn't bother either of the former mercenaries.
Byleth wrapped his arm around Shamir's waist, and she his neck. Their eyes met through the darkness, a luminous gleam in each. Leaning forward, their lips met. A kiss in the dark, one that held with it a promise that they'd share another, in the light of the day and in a time of peace.
"Hey, did you ever think we'd be here?"
"No. Frankly, if you told me this is where we'd be, I'd have wondered if you were sleep deprived or if someone slipped something into your drink."
Their kept their voices low as not disturb their children, the again, the twins were hardly paying attention to her. They were more interested in their sister's up incoming performance.
Normally, Meiri was the excitable one, something that always quietly baffled Byleth and Shamir. Ever curious ad kind, she seemed to think the world was hers to explore, which it was, just like any other child. What they did know was where her love of music had came from.
Byleth had taken up music as a side hobby when he was fifteen. It was an unexpected quirk that caught everyone by surprise, including her. Byleth himself at times seemed a little shy about it, only ever playing in solitude or for an audience of no more than five or so, his class being the exception. He once told her that he never planned on becoming a performing for various reasons. One such reason was his lack of confidence in his musical abilities. Even after he became Archbishop, public performances such as this were few and far between, though he did perform from time to time. Even after all these years, bringing attention to himself was something he tended to shy away from if he could help it.
His daughter on the other hand, was a different story.
Meiri was a performer, as decreed by Manuela herself after seeing the girl play and helping get together larger and larger audiences for her. She'd helped put this audience together. Sure, it was a charity event, but it was also an exhibition of the non-combat-focused talents of the next generation. Her and Ferdinand and Hilda, all three were in the audience, with their respective spouses of course. Manuela was the closest, having a special box suit just a few ways down the Eisners, such was one of the perks of being married to the headmaster of the Officers Academy and Right Hand of the Archbishop.
Leaning up out of his seat, he saw the Cassagranda Family. Naturally, the family matriarch was leaning, along with her stepdaughter. Flayn had a pair of viewing glasses even though with her draconic abilities she could see to the stage just fine. Odds were, it was just her way of getting closer to her stepmother, who was giddy with anticipation. Seteth and their youngest son sat back in their seat, content to patiently wait for the show to start like the rest of the audience of hundreds in the stands. Speaking of which, they and the Cassagrandas weren't the only ones with premium seats.
As one would have expected, the King of Faerghus and thus all of Fódlan had a prime box seat as well, right across from Byleth. He and his wife waved to Dimitri, Marianne, and their children, and they waved back. Eve little Reynold, who until a minute ago had bee as eager as his own sons to witness the start of the performance. Byleth noticed how he also waved to Malthus and Joshua, who waved back at him with excited smiles. In Joshua's case, he suspected that it was the king and queen's oldest daughter, Nicole, that had captivated his attention. It was certainly something that Byleth and Shamir enjoyed teasing their youngest son about.
Right beside them was his predecessor, the former Archbishop Rhea and her entourage. Of course, she too would be there, it was her great-granddaughter's first live performance, and she was there to give all the support she could. Oh, and Meiri's godmother, Catherine. The blonde knight locked eyes with Byleth and Shamir and winked while Rhea shot them a smile of encouragement.
The rest of their old friends and associates sat in the ground level seats. Them ad their own offspring. It was a packed house eagerly awaiting to see the may performances due to take place, chief among them the firstborn child of the Church's current Archbishop.
Looking around the dimly lit room, Byleth couldn't help but ponder how he'd ended up here. His eyes found Shamir's ad he could tell she was thinking the same thing.
"We've come a long way, huh?" She mused, wrapping her right hand up in his left. As always, she felt the soft cool and metallic feel of his ring, identical to the one she wore on her own left finger, proof of the unbreakable bond between them.
"Not bad for a couple of former mercs, huh?" He replied. Leaning over, he kissed her on the cheek, deeming that the safer option. Byleth saw he'd moved just in time as the curtain rose. The parents' eyes went to one member of the band that was set to play.
She looked back at them.
Unlike either of them, Meiri was a physically affectionate person. If she couldn't hug then she would wave, especially when it was someone she cared about. Since she couldn't give such a public display seconds away from performing, her family did the waving for her.
Shamir had never been the type to display such outward affection, but marriage and motherhood had changed her, for the better she'd say. The excitement that bubbled within her was almost enough to make her shout. Almost. She'd save that for after her daughter's performance, as would her sons, who seemingly took after her in more than just appearance. Like her though, they too were practically bouncing with excitement over their older sister's about to begin musical performance.
Byleth raised his arm, his index and middle finger raised in a V-sign he knew his daughter recognized.
Grinning, Meiri decided to break away and signal back, right in front of an audience of hundreds. A second later and she had her bow at the ready.
Shamir could feel something beginning to trickle down her cheek as she heard her daughter play. Luckily, Byleth was there to wipe the tear away. In that simple gesture, she reached out with her left hand to cradle his cheek and steal a kiss from him.
Look at us, mercs turned rulers, turned parents, proud parents at that. She thought as they turned back to their daughter's performance. Meiri's musical talent was on full display, and it would surely be one of the night's main events. Shamir was confident about that, as was her husband. They were equally confident they'd be sitting here again, enjoying another violin performance in the peaceful world they'd fought to bring, and that they'd fought to protect.
Another one off the list. Almost two years since Three Houses came out and I've finally done a story featuring Shamir, one of my favorites (and a fan favorite at that). The first of another little series down.
Both Byleth and Shamir are stoic people so I explored how they gradually opened up to each other over time, and what incidents could make them open up. I like to imagine the Siege of Garreg Mach was a battle that just knocked the life out of everyone, and I mean everyone. Though Shamir wouldn't say it, I wanted to show losing both the Monastery and Byleth at the same time was a little more than she could handle, Catherine of course would be there as the emotional support, even as she's just barely keeping it together herself. Writing a vulnerable Shamir was pretty interest, and in the midst of it, I was able to write Byleth gradually relaxing and becoming more I guess you could say human. As the title indicates, they both found it a bit odd since they're stoic mercenaries, but the more you live, the more things you experience in life. Some of those experiences can change you for the worse and others for the better.
I hope you all enjoyed, and for anyone curious, yes, I will be doing a lemon between the two them. Shamir's too much of a great character not (plus, I did show that somewhere down the line she and Byleth do end up having three children).