Annette – Strength and Limitations

A/N - Hello everyone, really happy to have finished this chapter before the month was well and truly out. Really proud of this chapter, so, I hope you all enjoy it as well. If you didn't know, I am working on a Valkyria Chronicles 4 fanfic called By Any Means Necessary, its a personal project and am trying to alternate chapters between that story and this one. I aim for a chapter every 2 weeks, so each story gets one chapter a month, but, finished 3 pieces, so, Our Guiding Light got 2 chapters this month. I don't have an exact schedule but I digress. Thank you all for reading and the many favorites and follows. Sorry for long Author's Note. I hope you all enjoy and any reviews would be appreciated. Take care.

Running. It was a simple yet effective exercise. It helped not only with endurance, which was already something particularly important for any fighting force, but it also helped to manage one's pacing and breathing. As well, the most obvious boon to such exercise was helping with one's leg muscles. A solid foundation was necessary, and strong legs would help with such necessities, help with keeping one's stance when fighting.

Even more than that, however, it helped to temper expectations. The members of the Blue Lion class shared strong bonds, many of them committed to their house leader, the future ruler over the Holy Kingdom of Fearghus, both now and after their time spent at the Officer's Academy. Many have sworn to him, and all were accepted. It was clear that they all held great amounts of trust for each other, with some notable exceptions, of course.

And so, to help prepare the would-be-knights, running made perfect sense to help prepare them. In battle, one must be quick, whether it be offensively, to strike, or defensively, in the retreat. Not to mention, while stories always told (not only by knights but by his own kind, mercenaries) of their exploits and accomplishments, of all their glories, seldom did many of their tales express just how much walking had to be done.

Byleth had heard enough complaints from his students on the few excursions they made when tasked with subduing bandits to know that this was a necessity. Yes, he taught them tactics, and yes, he trained them in their preferred weapon or study of magic. In both cases, the experiences of his past profession helped immensely, making his transition from mercenary to teacher more manageable than he first thought. And so, as his teacher, for the sake of his students, he would drill basic fundamentals into his beloved students.

It wasn't for naught, all being said. While yes, the grumblings of units was common even amongst the experienced, it was clear that his students needed it; some more than others. It was a given that marching orders were not looked too happily upon. That said, some like Dimitri and Ingrid were very much composed, not looking to voice any displeasures they had when it came to such long treks. They did as was expected, as was needed. In the same vein was Dedue, the sizable ward would march to his vassal's orders with nary a word in opposition, If ordered to, Byleth would have no doubt that he would march until ordered not to, even should those orders never come, such was how fiercely loyal the Duskur was. They certainly received his seal of approval. But the others…

While Felix and Ashe would complain, (the former much more frequently and much more colorfully than the latter), it was clear that they were fully capable of accomplishing the task at hand. That all being said, however, just getting the job done was not enough, unfortunately. The fatigue of travel is enough that it could spell the end for them should the unexpected occur. What good is making it to the battlefield if you are too worn to do anything once you arrive? For them, this training is more about buffing out the dents in their otherwise good performance.

It was for the reason of survival, however, that this training was paramount for the rest, however. Sylvain was a known slacker, and while he preferred horseback, Byleth had to put him through his paces to keep up with the level of exertion expected of him. Afterall, both Dimitri and Ingrid also would rather be mounted, but, they knew the importance of keeping one's body in a condition well enough to do such activities when necessary.

As for Annette and Mercedes, however, it was a different story. They weren't like Sylvain. In fact, they weren't really like the others of their class house at all. After all, the two lionesses were magic casters. They weren't expected to exert themselves physically, at least, not to the extent of their peers. But it was precisely because of that that Byleth let compelled to push them on. He knew from his battles just how devastating magic can be, a skilled caster easily being a boon for any deployment, and just as much a bane to the enemies forces as well. But it was clear they had weaknesses. Just like archers, what they valued was spacing, their abilities hitting from far away ranges.

But when they lost that space that they so dearly valued, when the enemy had closed that distance, that is where the rub lay.

The only way to combat such foes, if not in kind, were to either be sturdy enough to take their hits, or to be fast enough to eliminate the advantage they hold. On the battlefield, magic was devastating. It was because he had seen firsthand just what could be accomplished when such units go unchecked in a fight that Byleth knew; when it came to battle, the two had targets painted on their backs.

One a healer, and the other more offensively inclined with her dark magic, both held such great value. It was because of this that Byleth worked at them. He would be damned if his students fell in battle.

Unlike Sylvain, however, the two had more defined lines, both extreme. Where the Gautier womanizer shirked his expectations, the two magic casters had very clear limits, neither being physically inclined. Yes, they were very much different from Sylvain.

Annette particularly, unfortunately. Where as Sylvain was a slacker, the little Dominic was very much a hard worker, enough for it to be called a detriment in some cases. This was one such case.

Mercedes had reached her limits a while back, Byleth having excused her, proud of the progress she made. But Annette, despite very clearly struggling, pushed on, ever forward. The form she held when the exercise began was nowhere to be seen, she now stumbling forward rather than running, heaving.

She'll collapse, the inner voice said, not his voice, but the voice of the green haired girl who resided in his head. Are you really so cruel as to let it happen? Why won't you stop her, you dunce!

Because I am her teacher, and this is a lesson she must learn, he thought in response. Of course, the apparition couldn't hear his thoughts, but she could tell by his expression that he agreed with her. But still, he held firm. He knew he was perhaps acting too cruel, his face contorted ever so slightly in discomfort. But in his eyes, she could also see some disappointment. Was it directed to his student? Was it aimed at himself? Perhaps it was both, the green haired spirit mused. Regardless, it was clear; he didn't want his student to collapse. But he stayed firm, watching over her as she trudged forward, his arms crossed but fingers very noticeably clenching his arms.

He didn't want it to happen. But exhaustion befell his student, and no sooner had her body dropped did he rush to her side.

Consciousness faded in, Annette coming too. As her eyes flitted open and she came to, the first thing she noticed was the ceiling above. But, wasn't I just outside? The second thing that she noticed was the soreness, not just in her legs but a tired aching that permeated through her entire body. She was absolutely exhausted. She knew what had happened…

I pushed myself too hard.

She had to fight to sit up, or at least try to anyway. Even so simple a task seemed excruciatingly difficult. Her struggling was halted, however, at the presence of a weight at her shoulder.

It surprised her, the contact jolting her from her tired stupor. Eyes focusing, or rather, with her faculties collected, she only now seemed to notice the presence of Byleth.

"P-professor!" she stammered

He had his hand at her shoulder, firm yet gentle, and with that gentleness did he push her raised shoulders back down to the bed; she was in no condition to try and be up and about and he knew that she would try if he didn't halt her.

He shook his head lightly. "Don't try to get up," he started, his voice light despite his story façade. The only thing that betrayed his otherwise emotionless features were there slight furrowing of his brows.

As small a change as it was, it was enough for his astute student to take note of it; he was worried. "Professor, what happened? Where am I? Last thing I recall is the training exercise we were doing, but then-"

"But then," he took over, taking a seat beside her bed, "you collapsed. You're in the infirmary." Oh, she replied simply. He could only give a long pause, an action that left a pit in Annette's stomach. "You pushed yourself," he stated matter of factly.

Of course, it was something very clearly obvious, but the way he said it…it wasn't an observation, but more a statement, one which they both already knew. Annette shirked a bit, nervous as she looked to her stern teacher, afraid at having disappointed him. "I-I'm sorry, Professor, I-"

"Are you?" he cut her off abruptly.

His student could only look at him with wide eyes, now fully understanding just how badly she messed up. He wasn't just upset, he wasn't just worried, he was angry. He was always one to not mince words, very often did he come off as blunt, but he was respectable enough in conversation. The way he spoke to her now made Annette want to shrink beneath the sheets of the infirmary bed.

He could be scary, at times.

The Ashen Demon.

He didn't talk much about it. Of course, Byleth would speak at lengths of his time as a mercenary, channeling all of his practical experience forged from actual battle to help his students understand not just the theory of war, but how to actually wage it. No, what he wouldn't mention was his reputation; he spoke of how battle went, of what one could expect, but never did he talk from a personal perspective. That is, he never spoke of how he would fight.

Annette could remember the first time she saw it.

I did it! she had said, See? I'm a great fighter! She needed that reassurance. Afterall, ever since her father left when she was young, all she had ever worked towards in life was to find him again. Goddess bless her uncle for always being there for her, caring for and looking after her and her mother, but, he wasn't her father. Still, he did his best, having enrolled her into the Royal School of Sorcery in Ferdhiad. And now, finally, she can show off the fruit of her labors; she was strong, she could take of herself now, she no longer needed protection!

…and yet, she still felt something was missing.

All of this, all that she had ever done, was to find her father once again. She could now stand on her own two feet, she was strong, she could look him in the eyes and ask him, ask him why he left them, ask him why he left her.

She was strong, strong enough to do that. But…doubt crept in. She was strong, right? Or at least, strong enough. She shook her head, turning to see her teacher, an experienced man in his own right, experienced enough to be trusted with their tutelage. His affirmation, the affirmation of someone strong, would solidify her convictions, would erase the doubts she held over herself.

But as she turned to him, as she looked upon their teacher, his attention was focused not on her but the enemy before him, a man who he had plunged his sword into. His movements were as swift as they were ferocious, frightening power behind each quick strike. He was completely attuned to the battlefield. As if he was born on it…no…as if he was born for it.

And then she saw his face. As he pivoted away from a slash aimed at him, withdrawing his sword from the bandit and quickly turning his attention to the new assailant, he was fierce, not in expression, but in action. No, his face was all but blank, it squinching ever so slightly as he unleashed a set of savage slashes. Not only was he strong enough to overpower his opponent, but the way he did it, with brutal technique that left no way for enemy to survive the once-was mercenary's onslaught.

With three slashes- one to make enemy raise his guard, the second a hefty strike to throw off his opponent's weight and forcing an opening, and the final devastating slash, decisively finding its mark through the opening the professor forced- the man before him was nearly cut in twain.

And he did it all surgically. With power, with speed, with skill, and all with an emotionless visage; this was their teacher, The Ashen Demon. This was his strength.

To see him cut through men like it was nothing, like the life of others was nothing, it had unnerved her deeply, at first. That time, when she had secured her first kill, she was ecstatic, but upon seeing Byleth, upon seeing what he was capable of, it made her reflect. She looked to what was once a man, the bandit that had tried to kill her. The bandit that she had torn to shreds with wind magic. At first, she was excited, proud even of how far she had come. But now, she knew what she was capable of, knew just what she had done.

Such was her introduction to The Ashen Demon.

That, while not who her professor was, was a part of him. He clearly earned that name, that reputation.

And that was who she had let down, who she had disappointed.

Looking at his tired eyes, still so steely and sharp as he looked down at her lying form, she felt a shiver run down her spine. She was scared. Terrified, even. Of him, of letting him down, of letting herself down. Of not being strong enough.

"P-professor…I," her voice broke, she all but sobbing from being overwhelmed with emotion. "Truly, I am sorry…I…I did not mean to worry you, I-"

He sighed heavily, tiredly. His eyes seemed to soften lightly, losing their biting edge as his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "I've told you before," he started softly, "you push yourself too hard. I heard from Mercedes your schedule yesterday. Between all the work you had done, between training, studying, chores, between helping everyone else out with whatever they needed help with…what time did you allot yourself to rest?"

She couldn't answer.

"Not to mention," he continued on, exasperated, "I have heard from Mercedes that you had a late night, you burning the midnight oil."

"I-I wanted to be prepared for class. You said we would be looking into priority targets in battle, and I-"

"You wanted to study; to look into it to get a basic understanding," he finished for her.

She smiled, sitting up slightly. "Yes!" He got it! "I thought I would get a head start on it, that way, I could keep up in class and focus more on the nuances! And, also, repetition will help send the lessons home! Like, how you always say you want us to drill in the basics since its important enough to mean the difference in battle!"

"Yes, I did say that," he resigned, releasing a sigh. "And yet, this isn't the first time you've pushed yourself." She flinched at his words, knowing he was right. "This may be the first time you've pushed yourself to this state, however, you have made it a pattern to busy yourself past your limits."

She knew he was right. "I…I will try harder, Professor." Her head sunk in shame.

He could only shake his head at her. As smart as she was, she could miss the obvious at times, it seems. "I don't want you to try harder, I want you to rest," he chided.

She looked up to him, somewhat confused. "What? But then…how will I improve? How will I get stronger?"

"While there is always room for improvement, obsessing over making those strides will just cause you to fall, Annette. You work hard, harder than anyone else in class. You can't force it, can't force yourself, else all that will happen is you burning out." He stood from his seat, fetching his coat that was draped over the back of his seat. "You will be sitting out on the next mission," he stated simply.

Her eyes widened in shock as she all but jumped from the bed. "What!? Professor, no, that mission was going to be dangerous!"

"Which is why you will remain here to rest," he replied curtly.

"But…we were to go up against bandits who got ahold of a Hero's Relic! It is going to be dangerous and-and you need me!" He raised a brow at this but did not voice anything. Annette took this as a sign to sell her case. "You had taught us all about how important it was to have a healthy mix of units on the field! Without me there, you will be lacking in the firepower that a devoted black mage can provide! Mercy might have some strength to her, but she's a healer, so, you need me to provide you that strength in battle!"

She opened her mouth, ready to push on, but her voice caught in her throat, unable to say anything at seeing the deep frown her Professor held for her. "It would be difficult without you there, but, we will manage."

"B-but…but you told us all the importance of casters-"

"And I've also told you the importance of getting rest!" he raised his voice, catching her off guard and frightening her. "You wish to be of use, but what can you provide when you are exhausted to the point of fainting? You wish to help everyone but yourself, but the position you are putting yourself in will cause others to suffer. Others care about you, Annette, they don't want to see you like this…what good will you be when the other Lions have to take care of you?"

His words shook her to her core. He was right. She knew he was right. This wasn't like the chidings Mercy would give her, not just something she could brush off by being lighthearted. This was her teacher, and the way he told her flat-out how much a hinderance she could be, how much she would be, it hurt. Tears began to fall on their own as she turned away, muttering an apology once more, quiet as she tried to hold herself together. She wanted to be strong. Wanted to be able to stand on her own…and yet…you aren't strong enough.

He heaved another sigh as he took his leave.

That was cruel of you, the voice inside his head said, but I do not fault you for it. You care for the children. You have their best intentions at heart…and yet…

I know, he thought in response. She didn't finish what she wanted to say, she knew he agreed with her. He knew she was right. But, just the same, Sothis knew he was right as well. Afterall, he had seen the cruelties of the world, he was raised on the battlefield. All he wanted was the child's survival. This, too, is a lesson, she said simply.

Whatever conversation that could have happened was abruptly interrupted.

"Professor Eisner?" Byleth turned to see a knight he had met not too long ago, a veteran known as Gilbert. "A word, if you please." He nodded in response, following the older knight.

They walked away at a leisurely pace. Or maybe it should be said a lighter pace. Despite the size of the knight, he walked softly, trying to make as little noise as possible. All in all, paying much consideration to the occupant of the infirmary. His actions made Byleth somewhat wary, the stoic professor side eyeing the knight. It wasn't suspicion; Byleth knew. From what he had heard of the man, Gilbert was a good man. But it wasn't Gilbert's character that Byleth questioned.

Once the two were far enough away from the infirmary's door to keep from being overheard, Gilbert came to a halt, turning to the professor. "I heard that one of your student's was injured. How is she?"

Byleth leaned against the wall of the hallway, taking a much more relaxed stance, one to undercut the tension. Gilbert followed suit, looking much less formal as he took a place beside him. Byleth just shook his head, sighing. Honestly, being a teacher was a lot harder than he expected it would be. Might not be as demanding physically as his previous occupation was, but emotionally, the weight was there. Especially for someone who struggles to show any sort of emotion like him.

It was tiring if he had to be honest.

But that wasn't what was asked. "Yes, she is fine. Just seemed to push herself a little too hard is all. She just needs rest."

Gilbert seemed to relax at that, his stiff shoulders slumping a bit more as he let out a notable breath, signs of relief that he was trying to hide albeit poorly.

"That is good," he nodded. "It was the Dominic girl, correct?"

Byleth's eyes narrowed as he hid his balled fist. "Yes," he said with an edge. An edge Gilbert did not pick up, not having spent enough time with the man to know the slight nuances of the Professor. "Annette."

Gilbert nodded once more, taking note. "I am happy to hear she is fine. I must apologize; I had wanted to speak with you about our upcoming mission and came to find you once I heard something had happened to a student. I did not mean to but, I overheard how you spoke with her." Byleth quirked a brow, wondering what the Knight of Seiros was playing at. "I can appreciate that you are doing your utmost to teach them and discipline your students, however; perhaps a lighter touch would suffice."

Gilbert didn't mean to offend the professor and his teaching ability, he voiced, he was rather just trying to give advice to the fledgling educator. "I see," was all that Byleth responded with.

Silence fell over them once more, tension slowly rising. Gilbert got off the wall, standing erect as he defaulted to a more respectable posture. "I am sorry, Professor, it was never my intention to insult you. I simply- "

"You only have the student's best intentions in mind," he said, looking at the man with cold eyes. "But rest assured, as am I. What I said to her…was the truth. I don't feel as though I have the luxury to be soft with them. They are my responsibility, I must look after them, protect them, and teach them. Not every lesson can afford to be said so nicely, unfortunately.

Displeasure painted Gilbert's face. "Yes, I understand," he said curtly. In the end, Byleth was right; Annette's care and education fell under Byleth's responsibilities, not his own. It was up to Byleth to decide how he taught his students, which tone to take, how to treat them. Gilbert just clenched his jaw.

"Don't worry," the professor spoke, "I will have another talk with her, one much more calm once tensions have run their spell. As for now, as you have probably heard, I have deemed her unfit for combat; she will not be joining us on our mission, so, you needn't worry about your daughter's safety."

Gilbert's breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened in shock. He looked to the professor, cold and dangerous man by reputation, and swallowed. "So," he said, somewhat strained, "You know?"

"I had an acquaintance look into you. I take my position very seriously, and while you may work with church, we've never worked together, Sir Gustave. I needed to know who the man was that would be accompanying my students."

The former Dominic hung his head, fists clenched and shaking. It was not anger, but shame that made him so. "Please," he spoke quietly, "call me Gilbert."

"I too had wished to speak with you," Byleth continued on, "although now, I believe it to be redundant."

"What do you mean?"

"I was to ask you to not come on the mission." Gilbert froze. He wanted me to stay? Byleth didn't wait for him to voice a response. "I have my student's best interests in mind as well, Gilbert. I do not believe you being anywhere near Annette as you are would be wise for her." Gilbert clenched his teeth, taking the verbal lashing. "Just as I can't have her be too tired for battle, I also can't have her mind wandering. Your presence would only serve to keep her off center. But, since she is not coming, the situation sorted itself out." Byleth stood firm as well now, Gilbert unable to look him in the eye. Without another word, Byleth made to leave, their conversation ended.

"W-what…" Gilbert choked out, Byleth passing him by, "What do you mean…by as I am now?"

He heard the professor's steps halt but was unable to turn to meet the man. "You had a reason to leave, correct?"

It was a simple question.

"And now, you are looking for a reason to return. Annette is a child who has dealt with enough due to your departure. Even now, she thinks she's not good enough. She's vying for strength, because, deep down, she still has faith that you are out there. The fact you need to look for a reason, as if she was not already enough of one, shows that as you are now, you are not ready to be her father."

There was a sort of cold fury to the words he said in spite of his even tone. "I…I have reason enough not to," he started.

Only to be cut off once more.

"Just as she has enough reason to push herself to a state of exhaustion. Only, you both are wrong. I can see where she gets it from." He started once more down the hall, pausing, this time of his own accord and not by the hail of another. "Since you were kind enough to give me advice in teaching, allow me to return the favor, Sir Gustave." Gilbert winced at the mention of his name. "You are a knight. Stick to your convictions." Gilbert's eyes widened as he slowly turned to the former mercenary.

"You can not have it both ways. You can't be only half-way in. Commit, either to her, or to your shame."

Gilbert trembled, bowing to the younger man. "You are right…as I am now…I must be stronger. For her sake. So that one day, I may be able to face her fully. Until then…while I might be in no position to ask this of you, please, Professor Eisner…look after Annette for me…"

Bowed and unable to see Eisner, he clenched his eyes at the sound of his footfalls resuming. Ah, he thought, even now… When he failed to be there for his King, when he sought answers to his perceived transgression, he heard nothing in response. Perhaps, he had thought, the answer lied in his exile. Perhaps there, he could find penance.

"I will," the answer came. Gilbert looked up, the form of the professor continuing down the hall, only now, with his hand raised in farewell. "I will look after her," he affirmed, "I am her teacher, after all."

Gilbert could only nod in respect, finding comfort. I trust you, Professor.

It had been a long day. Byleth now found himself in the comfort of his private quarters, lying atop his bed. Who knew this position would be so hard, he thought to himself. But he couldn't help but to smile as well. At least the work he was doing was fulfilling.

He opened his eyes, turning, only to see the floating form of a smug Sothis. Why, I think you've gone soft, she joked. He simply turned in the bed, finding a position more comfortable with his back to her. How rude, she huffed.

It had been a long day, with tomorrow looking to be just as long what with having to speak once more with Annette and alerting the rest of the class to the changes being made. Not to mention he had to come up with a new formation and strategy for their upcoming mission at the end of the week. He closed his eyes. In the end, it seemed like 'busy days' are what would quickly become the norm.

All the in a day's work, he thought contently.