A/N: I finally finished my first playthrough of the Azure Gleam route in Three Hopes! It's why this chapter took longer than usual to churn out because I was too addicted to the game LOL. Anyway, now that the game is over with, updates should stay within 2 weeks from now on. With that said, this chapter is much longer than usual to make up for the slightly longer wait. Fair warning, this chapter is very much like an interlude, but has loads of character development from many. I hope I did the characters justice lol.
And holy cows, the Three Hopes boom really gave this fic a HUGE surge of views! Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! I'm glad people are enjoying this fic :)
The new invite code to our humble fire emblem fanfic discord is here: u89gs745fn
[White Clouds]
Chapter 20: A Leap of Faith
The Fraldarius estate was in an uproar and that was an understatement. Not because a bloody, bandaged mummy wandered into Fraldarius domain the day before and most certainly not because said man almost blasted a hole in their mansion with his faulty warp magic the afternoon before his impromptu visit.
No, who was he kidding? Rodrigue still remembered the way he was completing file work as usual on his desk, chatting with his butler about their next plan of action when his entire world went pear-shaped. For a moment, he thought the sky collapsed on him, surrounding him with bluish-white, or was it whitish-blue? Whatever it was, the giant windows behind him shattered, jetting shards of glass across his study. If someone informed Rodrigue a meteorite or comet had crashed into their walls, he would've believed them.
That was, until a giant box broke a hole in his ceiling and crash-landed on his desk, almost snapping the beautifully carved wood in half. The butler offered to probe the unknown object on his desk to which Rodrigue obliged.
And now, his butler was lying half-dead in the infirmary from a heart attack. Really, he should give the old man a vacation. The poor guy had been a loyal servant of the Fraldarius family even before Rodrigue himself was born.
Rodrigue moved to his library instead, sitting on the sofa lying in the center of the room under a beautiful chandelier and vivid blue ceiling. Renard sat opposite of him, a sheepish grin on his bandaged face. Rodrigue resisted the urge to facepalm, instead settling on keeping on the usual plastic, well-mannered smile on his face. Inside his brewing mind though, he was already set on strangling the cheeky man in front of him.
"So, let me get this straight," Rodrigue began amiably, smile hardening for a split second. "You snuck into Lord Lonato's mansion before the church got to them, fought against some knight dressed like a skeleton, and almost got yourself killed before you warped a giant box of crest stones to the Fraldarius estate without warning because…?" He arched an eyebrow, waiting for Renard to continue his train of thought.
"A mink's last fart," Renard deadpanned. "That's what it was."
"...Yes, as in, it was your last resort?" Rodrigue had become accustomed to the man's peculiar language over their years of cooperation. In a manner different from Satiana, Renard also had a nasty habit of being blunt, sometimes even mocking with his words.
"Uh, yeah, that," Renard coughed once into his palm. "Sorry about your window and ceiling, by the way. I swear it wasn't on purpose. I didn't have time to calculate the distance between your domains and honestly, I didn't think it was possible to use warp to send something halfway across the continent but hey, what do you know?" He laced his hands behind his head, tilting his head. "It worked. Miraculous, ain't it?"
"Putting that aside," Rodrigue diverted attention away from Renard's antics. "I am not sure why you thought it would be in our best interest to steal away their crest stones."
Renard blinked, lips curling down into a frown. "Why not? It's better than the enemy using these stones to create more monstrous beasts."
"Well, yes, of course it would be better for us to prevent them from doing so. But I have to be honest with you. Politically, this is a very… dangerous move." Although Rodrigue didn't say it outright, he really meant that it was a ridiculously suicidal move on Renard's part. "I'm sure you are aware of this already, but the Western Church is most likely erratic now that they're missing a huge chunk of their plans."
"Yes, literally a huge chunk." Renard grinned, eyes boring into the innocent chest lying on the table between them. "A few chunks, to be more exact."
This time, Rodrigue failed to keep a poker face, groaning. He slumped forward onto his elbows, rubbing his palms into his tired face. "Renard, please. Forget the puns. This is not the time for such… activities."
"Alright, alright. Sorry, pal. My head's still up in the clouds after that hectic battle," Renard threw a random excuse into the air, a lopsided grin hanging on his lips. "But I'll be honest with you. I wasn't really thinking things through."
Rodrigue shot him a tired look that screamed 'of course you didn't' and Renard flinched.
"Renard, do you realize what you have done?" Rodrigue began gravelly, sinking deeper into the sofa. He clasped his hands together and hid his chin behind them, midnight blue irises narrowing. "These crest stones technically belong to the Western Church. The Central Church is not aware of their existence. Now that these stones have disappeared from the Western Church's watchful eyes, who do you think will take the blame for your thievery?"
"The Central Church?" Renard answered with a nonchalant shrug.
"Yes, exactly. Your actions just fueled the Western Church's hatred towards the Central Church. This could lead to a whole dogmatic war between the two factions."
"Uh, Rodrigue?" Renard meekly raised his hand. "I think you've forgotten something."
"What is it, Renard?" Rodrigue grumbled, thoughts in disarray.
"Regardless of my actions, the Western Church already had a bone to pick with the Central Church. My actions simply… well… added to the fire," Renard chose his words carefully, noticing the dampening mood in the room. "I got a message from Byleth earlier, saying that Lord Lonato's corpse carried a document detailing an assassination plot on Lady Rhea."
At this remark, Rodrigue perked up. "An assassination plot? Another one?"
Of course, Rodrigue was aware of the vendetta between the Central Church and Lord Lonato. Renard had given him all the documents he stole from the bishop's room, including every single account letter describing financial donations between Lord Arundel and the Western Church. He felt for Lord Lonato's cause — really; he did. If the Central Church pulled the same thing on Glenn, he would've ransacked their altar, burned the entire place to ashes, charged in with nothing but the Sword of Moralta and the Aegis Shield.
It was truly a pity that a man of Lord Lonato's caliber succumbed to the sweet poison of the Western Church, allowing him to be used as a throwaway pawn. If it was Rodrigue, he would've gathered more forces in secret.
Rodrigue shook his head, smiling wryly at the thought. There was no point in thinking further about the dead or divulging in fantasy what-if scenarios.
"We can expect the Western Church to launch an attack on the monastery," Renard added. "Now that Lord Lonato is out of the picture, it's only a matter of time before the higher-ups in the Central Church realize their heavy involvement in the rebellion. Word of mouth has it that some villagers are already lending help to the Knights of Seiros with their testimonies."
Rodrigue's eyes widened. "Really? Why would they choose to help their sworn enemy?"
"Probably because they realized their Lord was being manipulated behind the scenes. We have to thank Satiana for her amazing act," Renard smirked at the thought. "She hid in a cloak and killed Lonato herself. Then, Byleth told the villagers it was the Western Church's henchmen that did the fatal blow. No one knows what truly happened, but hey," he winked, "it's easy to manipulate the thoughts of those who have succumbed to despair."
Rodrigue mused, rubbing his chin in thought. "I see. I have the documents entailing the Western Church's involvement in Lord Lonato's case. We can plead for the villager's safety to the Central Church."
Renard nodded. "That's a brilliant idea. It's the last form of respect we can give Lord Lonato. He may have failed to deliver justice, but at least we can protect his people." Then he leaned forward, mossy-green irises sparkling under the golden gleam of chandelier lights. "By the way, Rodrigue. I have a suggestion to make."
"What is it, Renard?" Rodrigue replied flatly, already eying the man with uncertainty. "Please don't tell me it's another plan of yours that lacks thought and proper preparation."
"Oh, forget the details already." Renard rolled his eyes. "Just listen to me for a moment. The Western Church is already occupied with the Central Church. Now's the best time for us to sneak in and catch them off-guard—"
"Halt," Rodrigue interjected.
Renard blinked. "What's wrong?"
"There's no need to touch the Western Church any further. We have all the information we need. They are useless to us, now that we have their crest stones in hand," Rodrigue commented. "The Central Church will crush the Western Church. We shouldn't focus on the religious war between them. Instead, we should remember who the real enemy is."
Renard crossed his arms. "The ones that slither in the dark? And perhaps, the Empire?"
Rodrigue nodded. "Our most damning evidence right now is the fact that the Western Church hid crest stones in Lord Lonato's mansion. The box in front of our eyes can attest to that fact. This more than implies their direct involvement in misconduct according to the religious laws of Fodlan. We can bring the Western Church down politically with this."
Renard caught onto his train of thought. "But you also don't want to hand such an important clue to the Central Church."
Rodrigue smiled. "Of course not. That's why we can give them something else in exchange. For example, the list of donations Lord Arundel provided to the Western Church."
Renard contemplated, eyes twinkling with realization. "You want to pit the Central Church against the Empire. You want to suggest through Lord Arundel's actions that they agree with the Western Church's ideals and shove a wedge between the Central Church and the Empire. Perhaps even ally yourself with the Central Church."
"Personally, I do not agree with what the Central Church did to Lord Lonato. The Tragedy of Duscur is not meant to be used as a scapegoat to protect their own reputation. However, I understand what motivated them to do so. We did the same to the Duscurians," Rodrigue smiled wryly. "That is how politics work in this world, I'm afraid."
"So, regardless of your personal feelings towards the Central Church, you want to ally with them to prepare for the day Faerghus heads to war against the Empire," Renard stated bluntly. "Am I right, Rodrigue?"
Once in a blue moon, Rodrigue's poker face would shatter, this being one of those times. "War? You must be joking, Renard," Rodrigue threw in a laugh, feigning indifference, but the lines on his forehead and tenseness in his shoulders exposed a fraction of how on-edge he was.
Renard glared at Rodrigue. "Is that not what all this is to prepare for? You've spent years on your own, spending all your resources to search for clues behind the death of your King. You're even willing to ask the Church for help."
"War is not something we can easily talk about like this," Rodrigue exhaled heavily, clamping his hands together on his lap. "Our true enemy isn't the empire itself. It's the ones that are playing everyone like fiddles, exploiting Caldea, the Empire, Lord Arundel, and the Western Church."
"How do we know they're not the same?" Renard crossed his legs, narrowing his eyes. "From how I see it, this Lord Arundel and the rest of the bastards in the Empire are all in cahoots with the experiments. Did you forget about what we found in Count Ordelia's territory?"
Rodrigue went silent.
Renard noticed his hesitation and pushed forward, raising his voice. "Those nobles turned a blind eye to the blatant corruption in that territory. They may not have directly taken part in the experiments, but they were complicit in it. There's no need to feel guilty for baring the Lion's fangs against them, Rodrigue."
Rodrigue wearily eyed Renard. "Renard, even with all the evidence we have, it's hard to justify a war against the Empire. We have no authority to enact justice in their territory. Even if they have been illegally dealing with the church, conducting inhumane experiments on their people, we have no right to interfere with what they are doing. The three different fronts have agreed for centuries not to delve into each other's affairs. The moment we break this pact, it'll launch the entirety of Fodlan into war." Rodrigue's gaze swept sideways, avoiding Renard's pointed look. "Besides, I am a mere Duke. I hold no such authority to begin a large-scale war on my own. One wrong move and I could be tried for treason."
"Then why have you been collecting all of this evidence so far? Is it not because you cannot forgive them for their atrocities?" Renard argued, crossing his arms. "I did not take you to be a coward, Rodrigue."
Rodrigue snapped his head up, meeting Renard's glare with a scorching gaze of his own. "Renard, you do not understand the severe implications our actions could have on the future of this land—"
"This land never had a bright future, to begin with. Have you still not realized that simple fact, Rodrigue?" Renard stood up from his seat, staring down at Rodrigue with contempt. "You know more than anyone. At this rate, those scheming bastards will devour Fodlan. No one realizes who they really are, and the Empire is blatantly working together with those evil snakes. If not war, then what do you suggest we do? Lie low forever?"
"Even if it comes down to war, we still need more information," Rodrigue frowned. "We don't even know where their headquarters lie, nor can we justify our actions with such flimsy evidence. I cannot taint Faerghus's reputation with another senseless massacre. How will I be able to face Lambert if I throw the entire continent into chaos with my preemptive decisions?"
Renard scowled, rolling his eyes. "Forget the dead king for a moment, Rodrigue, and look at the people alive on this land. Thieves are running rampant, nobles are fighting against each other, crestless kids are being thrown away like trash, and kids without crests are being turned into monsters. Is this the sort of status quo you want to keep?"
Rodrigue's expression tightened. He clenched his fists harder, hands trembling. "Of course not. I also want to eradicate these pests as soon as possible. However, now is not the time, Renard. His highness… his highness is still far too young."
Renard snorted. "Ah, yes. The young prince. So when will you be telling him about what you've been doing behind the scenes? Soon, I hope?"
Rodrigue closed his eyes, sighing. "I don't know, Renard. Perhaps after he takes the throne."
The unease was prominent on his face with the glistening glacial of sweat dripping down his forehead and Renard knew Rodrigue was churning out excuses. They both knew Dimitri would have trouble claiming the throne for himself at such a young age, especially with a power-hungry Regent acting in his place.
"So, you want him to decide what to do next? That means we'll be waiting for years, Rodrigue." Renard slammed his hands on the table, sending the box clattering against the wood. "I don't enjoy working for free, Rodrigue. I want a more solid plan detailing your next actions and our end goal."
"You are quite impatient, I see," Rodrigue chuckled, eyes drooping with exhaustion. "I will take your opinion into consideration," he conceded. "For now, I will pay a visit to Garreg Mach and talk with the Central Church about Lord Arundel's actions."
"Do you think they'll answer you?" Renard questioned, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Rodrigue smiled cryptically. "I may be a single man, but I'm still a Duke. I'll ask them for help regarding the bandits in my territory while striking a deal with them. If it's for Fodlan's safety, I highly doubt the Church will reject my offer for a temporary alliance."
"Temporary, huh? So you realize that there is no end to this conflict without war," Renard smirked.
Rodrigue sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm dealing with the devil when I talk to you."
Renard snorted. "Well, I have quite the reputation in the underground world."
"...Renard?"
"Yes, Rodrigue?"
"We're running out of time, aren't we?"
"So, you know what I'm getting at."
"I'm not a fool, Renard. Who do you think will strike first? The Empire? The dark mages? Or…"
Renard watched as Rodrigue's gaze flickered to his desk. It was a cheap replacement for the one Renard broke with his spell, but that wasn't the main point. There was a pile of documents, filled with Renard's investigations in Western Faerghus. He knew every fact and detail by heart. After all, he gave Rodrigue those documents himself.
Aside from information on the Western Church's dealings with the Empire, there was also an endless list of noble houses in Faerghus who received military funding and supplies from across the border.
Renard leaned back, reclining against the sofa for support. He stared up at the ceiling, a heavy sigh erupting from the deepest parts of him.
From Viscount Mateus, Gideon, to Elidure… we haven't even finished following the trails up north to Itha yet. Forget the invaders. Things are looking grim even within our own borders.
Renard closed his eyes, mirroring the look of fatigue on Rodrigue's face. "If only I could tell you, Rodrigue. If only."
"You guys are acting weird again."
Satiana brought the sword down as Felix swung upwards, their weapons screaming out upon striking each other. They danced around the blade, letting the wood visibly shake on impact as they swerved around each other. They deflected each other's strike and brought back their weapons for another swing.
"You're not even talking to each other anymore."
Satiana did a quick back-flip, dodging Felix's thrust, sliding against the floor. He chased after her, relentless with his moves, spearing the sword towards her. She parried flawlessly with her left arm, knocking his blade to the side. Pushing forward, she flicked her right sword upwards and slammed the blade against Felix's side, earning a small wince from him. He leaped back, one and two steps, gaining distance.
"Did something happen when I wasn't there?"
Satiana wasted no time in darting forward, slicing downwards with her left sword. Felix parried the move effortlessly with both hands on his sword, on impact deflecting her sword upwards, leaving her mid-area open to attack. He dived lower, thrusting right into her stomach. Satiana lowered her right arm, blocking the attack, though the difference between their strengths sent her sliding back.
"Alright, now you guys are just ignoring me!"
Felix snarled, eyes twitching violently as he threw his sword in Sylvain's direction. Sylvain yelped as he ducked, covering his head with both hands. The wooden sword landed on the wall behind him, reflecting off to the ground.
"Hey, what the hell was that for?!" Sylvain whined, pouting in feigned hurt.
That only seemed to rile Felix up as he stormed off towards Sylvain. He looked just about ready to tear out Sylvain's throat and play his lungs like bagpipes. The fuming steam puffing out of his ear was more than enough evidence of his fury. He grabbed Sylvain by the collar, spitting fire in his sheepish-looking face. "Will you shut up already?! You're bothering my training!"
Sylvain coughed under the grip. "O-Okay man. I g-get it. Sorry—" he gagged, face paling purple and blue. "C-Can't breathe…!" he patted Felix's arm. "L-Let me go!"
Felix released his grip, sending Sylvain into a coughing fit on the bench. He glared down at the red mop of hair, fiery gaze searing into Sylvain's skin. "If you don't have something important to say, then stay quiet. I'm warning you, Sylvain. I don't want another word of your nonsense."
Sylvain lifted his head. The corner of his eyes were brimming with silent tears as he gasped for air. "F-Fine. You and your goddamn temper. I swear you'll be the death of me one day." He mustered up the strength to smile weakly at Felix. "Not that I mind, though."
Felix's eyes twitched again. He took a step forward and Sylvain darted backward, jumping off the bench, flattening his back against the wall behind him with his hands hanging innocently in front of him. "Woah! Just kidding. I'll shut my mouth up now." He made a zipping motion with his fingers, clasping a hand over his mouth to seal the deal.
Felix rolled his eyes. He walked towards Sylvain and bent down, picking up the wooden sword. Then he swerved around the breathless man, focusing his attention on the absentminded woman in the middle of the training ground. He scowled in distaste before pointing the sharp end of the sword at her face. "And you. What's with you today?"
"Hm?" Satiana made a noncommittal sound in response. "What?"
Copper brown eyes narrowed. "You're not fighting as well as you used to. Something's distracting you."
Satiana gave Felix a pointed stare. She flickered her gaze towards Sylvain, hoping Felix would catch the drift. "I mean, you're not wrong. Sylvain has been yapping nonstop for the past hour."
Sylvain opened his mouth and let out a quiet 'hey' in protest when Felix's glare shut him up again.
"Aside from the fool, I mean." Felix crossed his arms, tapping his toes. "Your blows aren't as clean as usual. You hesitate more before you dive in for the final blow. Not to mention, you're not using dirty-handed tricks like before. What happened to the punches and kicks? Are you still recovering from your wounds?"
Blue irises darted to the ground. "Not really," she mumbled, rolling the wooden blades in her palms. "Maybe I'm just tired."
Of course, Felix didn't believe her lies. "You're lying. Is that all you know how to do? Lie your way out of confrontation?"
Satiana groaned, feeling the beginnings of a headache throbbing. She pinched her forehead, lips tilted into a frown. "Felix, can you, I don't know, mind your words a bit?"
Felix arched a brow in response. "Why do I have to change my speech to fit your needs?"
"Now you're just being a dick for no reason."
Sylvain snorted at the remark. He hid a snicker behind his palms. Felix sent him another warning glare that shut him up.
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean." Felix crossed his arms in a show of defiance. "Explain to me what I'm doing wrong."
"Are you kidding me? Do you even listen to yourself?" Satiana gaped, jaws dropping low. "You always try to pick a fight with me." She placed a hand on her chest, glaring at him.
Felix went silent. He genuinely looked confused, nose crinkling, brows creasing. Satiana knew he didn't mean to be such an asshole, but it didn't change how his attitude always seemed to irk her — especially because he always somehow knew which combination of words would end up causing the most harm to her mentality. Every sharp remark out of his mouth was like a stab wound to her heart, and he never hesitated to pour salt into those open wounds.
She could've just ignored him, like Ingrid, or Sylvain did. But she just had to be the self-deprecating, low-esteem, fidgety as fuck girl who soaked up every word like a sponge, drowning in the ocean of negative thoughts whirling in her mind.
And Jeralt had already warned her to care less about other people's opinions and believe in herself, but it was never easy to conjure up self-worth out of thin air.
"I… don't know what gave you that impression. But I am not picking a fight with you," Felix said, a frown plastered on his face.
Satiana wanted nothing more than to hurl her sword at the infuriating face, but she held back, choosing to grip them tighter. "Yes, because you are just speaking the truth?" This time, she threw back a mocking remark, and it had an effect immediately.
Felix flinched, the frown slanting lower into a grimace. "Now, who's the one picking a fight?"
"Well, good for you! Now you know how I feel lately around you." Satiana threw her swords into the air, letting them fly across the grounds. "Fucking hell. Talking to you is like talking to a goddamn parrot sometimes. You keep on spouting the same nonsense. Like how you're just speaking the truth or how everyone is so stupid compared to you. Just because you disagree with someone doesn't mean you get to be so rude."
Felix clicked his tongue in annoyance at her extra flair and flamboyance. "I don't know what's got into you, but all I need from you are your sword skills. You are a worthy adversary to test my skills against. That's all. I'm not seeking companionship with you. If that's what you want, then you're wasting time with the wrong man."
Satiana exploded at his condescending remark. Her face flared red like a volcano, mouth hanging wide open in shock. "Ex-fucking-cuse me?! You're the one who dragged me here to the training ground to spar with you!"
"To which you didn't refuse."
"Yes, because I don't mind sparring with you either."
"Then I see no reason as to why we're arguing like this."
"It's because of your stupid attitude, Felix. Did you emotionally stunt yourself at six years old or something?!"
"I don't want to hear that from someone who's screaming in my ears."
By this point of the argument, Sylvain was rolling around on the floor in a fit of unrestrained laughter. Tears sprayed from his eyes as he guffawed, holding his stomach as he gasped for air. "Holy shit, this is amazing. There's actually a woman who dares to confront Felix about his constant verbal abuse—" he broke off into another laughing fit, pounding his fits against the ground.
"Would you stop laughing already?" Satiana puckered her lips. "I'm being serious right now, and your bright countenance is throwing me off my game."
"How did I get myself into this mess…" Felix mumbled to himself, sighing in exasperation as he rubbed his head. "I should ask the professor for a spar next time."
Satiana felt her last remaining civility fly to outer space and she glared belligerently at him. "Oh, so that's how you're going to play?" Satiana sneered. "And here I was, so stressed about how I was going to make up for being a goddamn assassin and lying to you all. I even dragged Ashe to Gaspard, even though I didn't need to. I threw my life into harm's way on purpose, just to earn back some trust, but in the end, I see it was all pointless. No matter what I do, I'm still never going to be a part of this crew."
Felix froze, eyes growing wide. "What? Who said that—"
"Literally you!" Satiana spat. "Did you already forget what you told me yesterday? I know I don't deserve to be treated like a comrade because I am a fucking prisoner of war, but everyone treats me so kindly I sometimes forget that I'm just an insignificant piece of trash but then you just had to remind me all over again that I—" she choked on thin air and clamped her mouth shut.
The rising panic and anxiety were overwhelming, and she spiraled out of control. Satiana tried her hardest to battle for composure, but her breath was hastening, sweat pouring out of her nervous, trembling skin. She bit her lips, letting the pain dull her senses.
"Alright. Both of you, stop."
Felix stared helplessly at Satiana's shivering form and Sylvain eventually intervened between the two.
Sylvain stood in front of Satiana, exhaling before he patted her once in the head. She flinched, blue orbs darkening as they quivered from the shadows seeping into her mind. He continued combing the ebony strands of hair, threading his fingers through them, rubbing her scalp in a soothing manner. His expression was the epitome of warmth — a million-watt smile and softening honey-brown orbs.
"There, there. Let's relax for a moment, okay?" Sylvain patted her head again.
Satiana's shoulder loosened, the muscles relaxing under his comfort. She breathed slowly, the warmth of his touch seeping into her freezing skin. She swallowed loudly, feeling heartbeats dimming. "Sylvain, I—"
"Shh, there's no need to speak. I get it. It happens. The spiraling, the fall, the suicidal thoughts and all."
Satiana almost choked on thin air again at his remark. "H-Hold on, I haven't gone that far off the edge yet," she sputtered, eyes wide with horror at the implications of his words. "You, do you even know what you're talking about right now?"
Sylvain's sunny exterior cracked for a split moment, a quick flash of darkness darting through those understanding orbs. "Hm, I think I know what I'm talking about. Not that I ever want to talk about it in more detail, though."
For some odd reason, Satiana believed him. Sylvain was a masterful liar compared to her, especially with hiding his true thoughts from other people. He spewed nonsense daily, making light of everything around him to fill the vacuum of darkness inside his heart. But with truly important matters, things that came from the heart of others, he became honest with his words.
When faced with sincerity from strangers and those he could care less about, he would lie through his teeth. Make fun of their situation. Throw himself under the covers of cynicism that protected him from being harmed. Get slapped or punched. At least it was better than the pain that came with being deceived and betrayed.
But with those he cared about, even if the truth was harsh, he would give it to them because they deserved more than the sweet lies he habitually whispered in the ladies' ears. Especially when the topic at hand involved mentions of suicide and trauma. Sylvain may be a douche with his romantic endeavors, but he could never make light of someone else's troubles.
He was no saint, but he wasn't a monster at heart.
The sound of Felix's shuffling steps echoed throughout the empty hall and Satiana snapped her head towards him. "Hey, I—"
"No," Satiana cut him off sternly, eyes growing blank. "I don't want to hear it now."
Felix snapped his mouth shut, halting mid-step.
"You know, there were crest stones underneath Lord Lonato's castle," she started on an new topic, catching everyone by surprise. "Apparently, the Western Church was in cahoots with the dark mages who carried experiments on the children. They allied themselves with some high-ranked noble in the Empire, found out about Lord Lonato's hatred towards the Church, and incited him into rebellion."
"Wait, what?" Sylvain paused, lowering his hand from her head, arms hanging on his sides. "The Western Church, Empire, and those weird mages you mentioned are all working together?"
Satiana nodded stiffly, eyes still emotionless. "From what I can infer, the Western Church has been under the Empire's control for a long time now. Even that assassination plot Lord Lonato's son got involved in? I'm willing to bet the Western Church set him up on purpose, just to see how the Central Church would respond. There was evidence found in the high bishop's room that suggested the Western Church wanted to assassinate Lady Rhea."
"The high bishop's room?" Sylvain raised an eyebrow.
"My partner infiltrated into the Western Church. You know, the half-dead guy with brown hair," Satiana explained. "Combined with Byleth's intel about suspicious donations across borders between the Adrestian Empire and the Western Church, it's clear now the Empire had something to do with the Tragedy of Duscur."
Satiana skipped all the details and summoned a giant bombshell on top of their heads. Felix choked on thin air and Sylvain winced, head darting like a chicken as he glanced around them, searching for signs of eavesdropping.
"Woah, hold on, Satiana. Can you really be telling us all of this? Isn't it some secret mission between you and Felix's father?" Sylvain whispered, face paling in horror. "I mean, I know we kind of already blew your cover apart, but you don't have to tell us everything—"
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Satiana's voice cracked as she raised her voice. "I can't tell you anything because sir Rodrigue told me not to. But then, if I don't do something, you can never truly consider me a part of you guys. So I should just, I don't know, suffocate myself to death? Hurl myself off a cliff? Jump into hellfire? Throw myself into danger so I can earn your trust—"
"That's just suicidal," Felix interjected immediately, as if it were instinct. "And pointless."
Satiana shot him a nasty glare. "I don't want to hear that from someone who tried to get me to stab them just so that they can discover my true inclinations. Also, coming from you, the person who trusts me the least in this entire crew? How laughable."
Felix flinched. He lowered his head, glancing off to the side in a small show of guilt.
"Anyway, forget it. Just forget everything I said today. I'm not thinking straight and I'm throwing a tantrum like a child because you keep hitting my nerves, Felix." Satiana shut her eyes, lowered her head, and covered her face with her sweaty palms. "You're being an asshole, but so am I. Because you don't trust me and worst of all, I don't even trust myself. So I'm just throwing my frustrations at you. I'm sorry," she ended lamely.
It was clear from her speech that her thoughts were in disarray. Nothing was connecting and her words were all over the place. But from her hunched, shivering form, her sentiments were properly conveyed to the other two students in the room.
Sylvain exhaled, tousling his vibrant strands of hair in frustration. His gaze slanted side-ways towards Felix. His lips tugged down into a frown. "So, what are you going to do about this, huh?"
"Do what?" Felix asked, though it was clear from the slight edge in his voice that he knew what Sylvain was getting at.
Sylvain jabbed a finger in Satiana's direction. By now, she was huddled into a ball on the ground of the training hall, head digging into her knees as she hugged herself. Thankfully, there were no noises of coughing or sniffing coming from her and Felix heaved a sigh in relief because the last thing he wanted to deal with was a crying adolescent woman on an emotional roller-coaster—
"Felix," Sylvain spoke his name with such finality Felix had no choice but to succumb to the man's unsaid pleas. "This is your fault. You solve it yourself for once without my intervention, alright?" Sylvain walked over towards Felix and shoved the said man towards Satiana.
Felix stumbled awkwardly across the ground, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. He came to a halt in front of the gloomy mess, dark clouds hanging over her tiny form. He clicked his tongue once in annoyance before he scowled, scratching his head in a fury. "You are one annoying woman, you know that?"
An awkward silence passed through them, blowing a cold gust of wind into the training hall.
Sylvain slammed his face against the wall, groaning in exasperation. "Felix, you're my best buddy, but I swear to god you are so emotionally constipated I cannot even—"
"Just shut up and let me finish!" Felix snapped back.
*Sniff*
Felix whirled his head back towards the melting heap of despair, mouth dropping in horror. Now he had done it. Him and that goddamn mouth of his. Felix had made a lot of enemies throughout his life. Ingrid always warned him about his sour mouth — that he was prone to making enemies out of misunderstandings. He didn't really care about her warning. Felix always did as he pleased, without regard for other people's feelings. He simply continued walking down the path he believed was right.
A few hateful glares here and there; he could deal with that. Felix Hugo Fraldarius never needed friends or comrades. All he needed was himself and the sword.
But even he never stooped so low as to make a girl cry.
For the first time in his life, Felix was absolutely dumbfounded and clueless. He had no idea what he was doing, what kind of nightmare he had walked himself into, and Sylvain would probably tease him about it forever, but Felix had no choice but to console the poor girl somehow.
So he did what he knew best.
"Pick up the sword."
"What the fuck?!" Sylvain's voice box exploded, a ripple of screeching sound waves sending the birds perched on top of the roof flying into the air. He blanched as he yanked the strands of red hair in frustration and disbelief. "Felix, holy Seiros!"
Even Satiana could never expect this response to her outburst. She was still hunched up on the floor, but her head perked up at his random choice of words. She froze in slack-jawed shock. But fucking hell was Felix completely, utterly dead serious. The way he pointed the sharp end of his sword at her only reinforced his train of thought.
Her immediate reaction was to laugh, a nervous, slightly hysterical sound. "Felix, I'm literally sobbing here and you want me to spar with you? Have you gone mad or are you seriously that one-track-minded?" She coughed once on her tears, though her lips were twitching upwards in amusement, a shadow of a smile appearing on her weary features.
Felix felt his ears flush red in embarrassment and humiliation for a split second, but he brushed it off with a quick shake of his head. "I don't know what you're rambling on about, but this is the only way I know how to settle our differences. You win and I'll listen to you. If you lose, then you deal with your issues on your own."
Satiana stared hard at Felix. She slowly blinked the remnants of tears away from her eyes. She took a moment to analyze him, watching the way he chewed over his lips, copper-brown orbs trembling imperceptibly under her piercing gaze. After a long pause, she snorted. "You are one hell of a person, you know that, Felix?"
"What do you mean?"
Satiana managed a laugh. The sound was breathy and hoarse, but it was clear she was in a much better mood than before and Felix felt the tension in his shoulders loosening. He lowered his arm, letting the blade hang by his side. The sparkle and fire returned to her bright blue irises, and he felt himself backing away in reflex.
It was always that goddamn knowing vision of her. The one that always seemed to see past his bitter remarks, peering into his soul, laying it bare. It was the same as yesterday in the infirmary. She always somehow saw through him in that uncanny way of hers. But then, at times, like how she completely missed his point earlier, she acted as if she did not know what he truly meant.
She was an idiot — a stupid, self-deprecating idiot. But then again, so was he, for being the dishonest and roundabout fool he was.
"Alright, Felix. Let's spar."
It was a complete 180 from the angsty woman he saw earlier. The black fog of despair had vanished, revealing a brilliant pair of eyes. She grabbed the two swords lying on the floor and pointed the sharp end at his face without hesitation. "One minute. That's all we need, right?"
And there it was again, the same old woman with nothing but bluster and bravado. The familiar hard gaze underpinned with a gleam of confidence whenever she held two swords in hand. The one he had grown comfortable with. Because in that enigmatic way of hers, she always knew how to light that competitive spirit inside of him.
She came with a heavy baggage — an annoying one, if he had to choose a word to describe it. There was still so much mystery behind her identity. Where her future led, he had no clue. And to what sort of hell this woman would end up dragging him to, he didn't want to know. But he was the one who joined the sinking ship called Satiana Eisner.
And Felix Huge Fraldarius was never one to back away from a challenge, even if said challenge involved interpersonal relations.
Felix made the first move. Although it was quite underhanded of him to start the battle without warning, he had a feeling it would only be a waste of time. His instincts were screaming at him; he wanted to clash swords with her now — crush her clumsy facade, break through her defenses, and emerge with absolute victory. Dominate over her quaking will, teach her a lesson, impose his beliefs on her because he was so sick and tired of seeing such a valuable opponent dwell in the shadows of the past that shackled her from reaching her true potential.
If his words bothered her so much, then perhaps it was time to force her to bend with his actions.
As expected, Satiana responded immediately, and they ended up striking at the same time, both flicking their weapons with ease as they swerved around each other with momentum. Satiana twirled one of her swords in her hand and swept low. Felix responded by jumping over the blow, parrying the right sword that came diving towards his head with a hard slash. Satiana backed out of range, hopping backwards in a zig-zag motion to adjust her grip. Felix refused to give her room and charged at her.
At close range, Satiana had the advantage because of her superior speed, plus the addition of a second weapon. But today, her moves were much weaker and slower than usual. They both knew that. While Felix's moves could not break through Satiana's defenses, he also left no room for a counterattack with his relentless pursuit. Today, the sword wielder with more hunger and thirst for victory was Felix.
Satiana bit her lips in frustration, mostly directed at herself for fighting so pathetically. She haphazardly went for a small strike or jab at Felix's right leg, which was met with a quick two-part counter, one to block the blow and the other forcing her to move backward as he thrusted right into her stomach. He moved with a speed and finesse that far surpassed her, and she flew backward towards the wall.
On nothing but pure instinct and stubbornness to lose, she released her grip on the left sword and reached her arm outwards, grabbing his collar, yanking him down along with her. Using her momentum, she flipped their positions mid-air, preparing to shove Felix down to the ground with her remaining sword when—
*Crash*
For a moment, her vision was filled with nothing but dark blue and a flashing light of gold and brown. Her head was whirling in a concoction of throbbing pain and confusion as she lay there on her back, both swords out of reach. A blunt wooden blade was stabbed into the ground mere inches near her left cheek.
A memory darted through her numb brain and she realized Felix had somehow turned her move against her, shoving her in the shoulder mid-air, spinning her around so that he had the upper hand again before he pinned her to the ground while straddling her hips.
Wait a minute… isn't this exactly what I did to him the first time we sparred?
"F-Felix, since when did you learn to—"
She froze. There was no other word to describe it. The searing golden flames roiling inside those copper-brown orbs stole away her voice, breath and all. She had no idea what had gotten him so worked up, but whatever it was, holy flaming bison bells.
The deep gaze was intoxicating and inescapable. It amplified the underlying scent of bloodlust and musty wood that could be no one else but Felix Hugo Fraldarius, who drowned himself in sweat every day with a training sword in hand. The heated glare, the unyielding skills with the sword forcing compliance — it was throbbingly inflammatory and overwhelming.
Satiana gulped in a sudden wave of anxiety. "Uh, I… I lost?" Her voice broke into a high-pitched squeak at the end and she flushed in embarrassment.
"That, you did," Felix snorted. Then, he crowded closer to her, barely an inch lower, but he still radiated fluid, coiled, spellbinding power and Satiana winced under his blazing glare. "You lost, so you will keep up your end of the bargain. Deal with your issues on your own."
His words were sharp like razor-blades, but Satiana didn't feel the familiar wave of despair and hurt rushing over her. Perhaps it was because there was no hatred or anger swirling in those eyes of his, now that she had a close look at them.
Maybe they never had such loathing to begin with, and it was all her own imagination. She realized her damning mistake now, and it made her feel like a pathetic weakling all over again. Satiana wanted nothing more than to drown in the ground, bury herself six feet under, play dead like the corpse she was.
Me and my goddamn stupid self-esteem. Fucking—
"I'm not one to mince my words. By now, you've probably realized that already," Felix started on a new thought, catching her off guard. She stared up at him, expression tightening. He leaned backward, giving her room to breathe, but remained seated above her as if to remind her who was in control. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I never plan to change my ways. Do not expect some… consolation from me. If that's what you want, go ask the fool squawking over there in the corner." He jerked his head towards the left and indeed, Sylvain was in a stupefied state as he stared at the scene in front of his eyes.
"If you are seeking… friendship," the word rolled awkwardly off his tongue as if he was speaking a foreign language and Felix flinched. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Then I'm afraid you'll have to deal with the kind of person I am." Felix shifted on top of her, confident irises dimming. "However, if you must…hear it from me, then I will say it only once."
He paused, chewing over his lips. It felt like there was something solid in his throat and he didn't know what to do with the complicated feeling rising inside of him. But he enjoyed sparring with Satiana. That was a true fact that came from the bottom of his heart. So if he needed to strain himself a bit to keep their current relationship, then so be it.
"I do not… hate you," Felix muttered. He sounded strangely strangled, as if there was something else lurking inside his voice box that he didn't dare let free. "However, you annoy me. Greatly."
Satiana couldn't help but frown at his words, and Felix reeled backward again. He groaned, loosening his grip on the sword, letting it clatter to the ground beside them. "Look, I…" he exhaled, rustling the strands of hair that escaped from his bun. "I don't understand you sometimes. You're a confusing creature. Sometimes, I don't know if I can trust you because of your background, but then you act as if you're some reckless saint trying to save the world. It's stupid."
Satiana stared at him dumbfoundedly. "You…don't like the fact that I threw myself into danger on purpose to discover clues about the Duscur Tragedy?" Her brows furrowed, nose wrinkling in confusion.
Even to Felix himself, the words he spouted were sounding more and more ridiculous by the second. But what else could he say? "What I mean is, you irritate me with the way you so readily put yourself in harm's way because of some false sense of guilt. The only thing propelling you to get stronger is your regrets, and that is what's annoying to me. Because without it, you would be so much…so much stronger. And free."
Satiana's exterior cracked and for a brief moment, she felt a sudden surge of warmth rushing through her. Her eyes widened, realization dawning. Jeralt's and Byleth's words started pouring into her mind. How they told her she could prevent others from following down the same path. How she had already done plenty enough. How she should just be selfish for once.
How she had to learn to forgive herself to move forward.
"Felix…I…" she stammered, eyes darting away from his knowing look.
"You told me you wanted to fight for your own beliefs. I gave you a chance after hearing you say that," he paused, glare hardening, "but I see it was a hasty decision, a mistake on my part."
Her expression dampened again, but before she could mumble a protest, Felix moved the wooden sword closer to her neck.
"Tell me. What exactly is it you're fighting for? What beliefs are pushing you to act?"
Blue orbs flashed with burning coldness, and her response was with no hesitation. "I want to slaughter all those bastards who ruined the lives of many innocents for their own pleasure."
"You misunderstand my question," he snarled, the intense irritation twisting his face into a storm-like simper. "I asked you about your belief, not your goal."
She turned her head away from him.
The sword nudged roughly against her neck. "Don't you dare turn away from me. I won the battle fair and square," he growled. "Now, give me your answer."
She didn't comply with his command. Instead, she shut her eyes away from it all, face scrunching up with distress. "I…I don't understand your question, Felix."
The scoff entering her ears sounded harsh, but for some odd reason, it didn't crush her heart. "So, you don't actually know? I was right. You still haven't changed. You're still entrapped. The same puppet on the string."
Her breath hitched. Her hands balled into fists as she trembled. "Stop…"
"You're not acting on your own accord. They've played you like a fiddle and you're still launching yourself into a fit over them. How pointless."
"Shut up, Felix." Her eyes snapped open, and she whipped her head back to meet his scorching glare. "Are you telling me it's wrong of me to seek revenge? Do you honestly want me to just let them roam free? After everything they've done?" She raised one of her hands to the wooden sword next to her neck and grabbed it by the blade. "They framed the Duscurians. They killed many people. My comrades. The innocent children. The fucking King of Faerghus." She squeezed the blade tightly, feeling the blade sink into her skin. "Your goddamn brother, Felix."
It was a low blow even for her, but with such a blatant show of hostility and anger, she only knew how to react like the well-trained assassin she was. But it didn't make her feel better. The quick flash of pain on Felix's face only made her heart ache.
"And you're telling me I'm wrong?" Her voice trembled over her raging emotions, ones that she had kept a close lid over for years. She bit her lips, a small trail of blood trickling down the side. "Do you even know what you're saying?"
"I could say the same to you," he retorted. "What's the point of sacrificing yourself for some dead people who can never appreciate what you've done for them? It's a waste of your time and effort."
Another rush of anger surged from deep within. "What do you even know about me, Felix?"
Felix returned her taunt with another glare. "At least more than you know about me."
Satiana picked herself up from the ground, yanking the wooden sword out of his grip. She hurled it over to the side; the weapon snapping into two with a resounding crack as it crashed against the wall beside Sylvain, who squeaked in shock. Felix winced and jumped back on instinct.
Satiana breathed heavily, fixing her glare on him as she took a step forward. "Ah, of course. You know so much more than everyone else. Do you think you're that smarter than everyone?"
He lowered his gaze, glancing at the broken sword on the ground. "Watch it." There was no threat behind his words.
The warning blew past her head. She stormed at him, jutting her chin up into his personal space, blue striking against copper, sending invisible sparks flying in the air. "Not everyone can be selfish like you, Felix. You may have heard of my story from my mouth, but that doesn't mean you experienced it yourself. You can't understand what I'm going through. You'll never be able to."
"And I don't plan to any time soon," Felix threw a snarky remark right back at her, snarling. "I don't need to know what you went through to see how pointless your actions are right now." He pointed his index finger at her face while glaring down at her from the bridge of his nose. "You're obsessed with redeeming yourself to the dead, but listen to me for once." Copper-brown flashed golden. "The dead will remain dead. Your victims can never forgive you or resent you. You're throwing yourself into hellfire for some redemption that will never come."
"How dare you." Her voice was barely a whisper as her soul quaked under the tyranny of his scathing words. She felt the familiar stinging sensation returning to her eyes and sniffed once. "How could you say that to me?" She clutched the front of her shirt helplessly with one hand, eyes tearing up.
"I'm saying it because you need to get it through your thick skull." He jammed his finger into her forehead, knocking her head slightly back. "No one can give you the redemption you desire. You're the only one who has to move on. Are you fighting against those black mages to repay some unknown debt to the dead? Or are you throwing yourself into hellfire to make the world a better place?"
"...Why can't I do both?" she whimpered, blinking rapidly as tears spilled again.
Perhaps it was just her imagination, but for a split-second, an emotion akin to sorrow swept across Felix's expression. "You're being ridiculous. They're both awful choices to make. What in the world do you think will be left after you lose your life in the fray of battle against those mages? More dead bodies, that's what." To both of their surprise, his tone was softer than expected.
Satiana didn't answer him. She already knew the dreadful answer. Even if she was angry at him, she knew she was fighting a losing battle. She couldn't drag on this verbal exchange any longer.
Because he was right.
Jeralt, Renard, and Byleth had reminded her countless times to forget her guilt and move on. Even now, after years of self-depreciation, she still found herself stuck in the same place.
Satiana took a small step away from Felix, head hanging low. She wiped her tears with the end of her sleeves as she released a hefty sigh.
He's right. I told him I wanted to fight for what I believe in. But…what exactly do I believe in?
She stared at her hands, pondering Felix's words. It blew her away — destroyed her entire being, shattered the rudimentary building blocks that made her who she was today. It made her rethink everything that she had believed in, everything that she had been fighting for from the beginning.
Of all people, it was Felix who broke through her armor of defense. Not even Jeralt with his kind and warmhearted words, Byleth with her soothing advice, and Ashe with his sincerity scratched a clink in her steel-guarded heart. But then came Felix and, like the rough, straight-forward man he was, he clawed his way into her shell and bulldozed through the edges, crash-landing inside her heart.
Perhaps that was what she needed all along. Not some kind, soothing words — because she didn't believe she deserved them. She needed something more raw, more honest, more believable. Because of their rocky start, it only made this sudden outburst from him much more heartfelt. And Felix, despite his lack of communication skills, tried his best to convey his feelings to her.
It was an awkward attempt at most, but it was so genuine and so unexpected from him, Satiana would've broken into another crying mess, if not reminded of her pathetic tears a few seconds ago. She blinked away the beginnings of rain in her eyes and willed away the stinging sensation rising upwards.
"Tell me something, Felix."
Felix scowled. "What now?"
Watery blue orbs shimmered as she blinked up at him. "Why are you telling me all this?"
Felix froze.
"You said it yourself. You made a mistake trusting me. And now, you've completely ripped my facade apart," Satiana's voice fluttered against the wind, a resigned sadness in her eyes. "It's as you said, Felix. I don't really know what I'm doing. I'm just…doing what I know is what I must. Even if I have to throw away my life for it."
Felix sighed deeply, placing a hand on his forehead with his eyes closed.
"I'm a walking contradiction. I asked you for kindness, but now that I have it, I can only shy away from it all because I don't believe I deserve it." She lowered her head and stared at her palms. There were no blood trails, but with her trauma-stricken eyes, the crimson red forever remained. "So, please tell me one more time. Just once. That I am not your adversary. Your sworn enemy. Because I know you're not one to lie."
A deafening silence enveloped the two as they stood in an impasse. When Felix finally met her gaze, she took a sharp intake of breath.
The sharp look on his face was gone. He still looked far from satisfied, but there was no disappointment in his expression, no more anger. A steadfast gaze, underpinned with gold and confidence. A straightened posture. Felix Hugo Fraldarius at his core.
"Earn it," Felix said in a low voice after much delay. "Earn my trust. Not with your death or some noble sacrifice. Show me with your actions. And if you fail, then I will end you myself."
She cracked a wry smile at his empty threat, the air of familiarity chasing away all her fears, and tried her best to appear normal again.
"Fucking hell, Felix. I didn't know you had it in you," was all she came up with in response to his most honest confession.
Felix bristled, stepping away from her. "Shut up."
"Okay, okay," Satiana muttered to herself. She wobbled slightly, feeling the wave of relief rush through her. She felt light — lighter than ever before. Like a huge burden had been lifted off her back. "Hey, Felix?"
Felix rolled his eyes. "What now?" His voice was haggard, the adrenaline-fueled passion dissipating within him.
Satiana smiled brightly at him. "One more spar, please?" She blinked at him, battering her eyelids in a sudden show of innocence. "I want a rematch. Now."
Felix stared at her blankly. "Stop with that disgusting act already," he snapped back. "If you want another match, then so be it. Gather your weapons. If you give me a pathetic show again, I'll kill you."
"Duly noted," she spoke with a small laugh, bending down to grab her swords. She paused mid-stance, then stared unflinchingly at him. "Felix? I'll try to…change my view on some things. It might take some time, but please bear with me. For now…thank you."
An odd expression manifested on Felix's face. His eyes widened slightly, copper-brown orbs whirling with surprise, brows knitting together in disbelief. "You…" he started, only to snap his mouth shut again.
Satiana tilted her head to the side. "What's with that face?"
He continued staring at her, observing her, dissecting her apart, or whatever it was he was doing. "You…actually listened to me?" was what came out of his lips after a pregnant pause.
Satiana lowered her swords to her side, blinking. "Uh, yes? Was that not the point of your speech? To make me listen to you?"
"Yes, but…" he trailed off, voice fading. The words were tugging at his tongue, but he gritted his teeth, preventing them from escaping. "...Hm." He shook his head and made a small grunt-like noise in recognition, then slipped into a proper stance.
Satiana shot him a curious look as she entered her own stance.
Sylvain stood silently from the sidelines, watching as the two jumped into another fierce battle. He sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "What is it with people and bonding through clashing blades these days?"
Byleth would rather be anywhere but here in the moment, standing in front of the brooding green-head who most likely wanted nothing more than to feed her to his favorite wyvern pet. But she was a professor, as she proclaimed so confidently to them the day before, and she had a job to accomplish — even if said job required her to talk amiably with Seteth.
Of course, it seemed her sentiments were shared with the said man. The moment she stepped into his office, he scowled, glaring daggers at her. His eyes twitched violently and Byleth remained blank-faced underneath his pressure.
"So…are there no transfer forms available?" she started.
"...Yes, there are."
Another awkward pause.
"Where are they?"
"My…apologies," he spat out the word with disgust. "I seemed to have moved them somewhere. Give me a moment to search for them." He ravaged through his desk, opening random drawers, ruffling through sheets of paper. His hand eventually rested upon the forms, but he pretended to waste time searching for another entire minute, just to piss her off on purpose. He finally procured the documents after over five minutes. He threw them into her face with the same old nasty glare plastered on his face. "There you go. Now, if you will excuse me. I am quite…busy dealing with the aftermath of your excursion."
"I can imagine so," Byleth replied nonchalantly, as if she weren't the cause of his headache.
Seteth slammed his face into his desk. Byleth stared blankly at him, brows arching deliberately slow. He lifted his head eventually, forehead blazing red at the sudden impact. "Professor, you are doing this on purpose."
Byleth's face was the picture of innocent puzzlement. "Doing what? My job?"
Seteth exhaled heavily, clenching his fists in barely restrained malice. He tried his best to mask his displeasure, but really, what was the point of hiding it when it was obvious to everyone they were not on friendly terms? "No, professor. I am talking about your blatant condescending attitude towards me. Am I not your superior?"
"Indeed you are," Byleth hummed. "And I believe I have been treating you as such."
"Oh, really?" Seteth narrowed his eyes. "Because all I see is you attempting to get under my skin every moment of the day!"
"Seteth, I must say, you are overestimating your own looks. I have no interest in literally getting under your skin—"
"Not that, professor!"
"Oh. Forgive me. My mind seems to be troubled lately with abstract thoughts."
"Those are exactly my words, professor."
There was another lull in the conversation when Byleth ran out of smart, verbal counterattacks. Of course, she never planned on antagonizing him to this extent. On a personal level, she had no qualms regarding Seteth as a person. He was simply loyal to a fault, especially regarding Rhea and the Church. Sometimes, he became extremely blindsided by the obvious bias in his own actions and words, but she couldn't blame him for being so.
Seteth was just a devout believer of Saint Seiros. There was nothing inherently wrong with protecting one's own beliefs. However, he was prone to being overly defensive.
But then again, so was she with matters involving her beloved family that seemed to be growing in size lately.
"Seteth, I would like to apologize to you," Byleth said.
Seteth eyed her with suspicion. "For what, professor?"
"I am aware that you revere the Church and Lady Rhea. And perhaps I have been too…violent with my words yesterday," Byleth continued, chewing over her words. "However, I hope you understand I am not here to antagonize you or the Church. We may have different beliefs, but I hope that does not sour our partnership."
At her words, Seteth shot up from his seat, emerald green sparkling with something akin to surprise. "P-Partnership? Are you saying that you consider me as…as…" he trailed off, sputtering.
"We are colleagues, are we not? Friends, if that is what you wish to say," Byleth replied. "At the very least, I do not think little of you as a fellow human-being. In fact, I find you to have very useful insights. I have seen you interacting with some students on monastery grounds, advising even my students. Bernadetta, Hilda, Felix, and even Ingrid. I know Ingrid, for one, relies on your advice about worries she cannot bring herself to talk to me about. To be honest, I am aware how lacking I am in the interpersonal department, especially things that involve emotions. As a mercenary, I find emotions to be very annoying."
Seteth went quiet, listening intently to Byleth's words.
"As you may have heard from my father, I have lived in absolute seclusion from the rest of Fodlan. I had no interaction with the Church since young, so I hope you will not blame me for my ignorance regarding the religious beliefs in Fodlan." Byleth glanced at Seteth, analyzing his reaction to her words with her dissecting vision. "In fact, I would love it if you could inform me more about yourself. I still have much to learn about many things in life. Like how to interact properly with my students. How to be more approachable. My little sister seems to have a better hang of my personality than others, so I rely too heavily on her. Perhaps it is time I ask for outside help."
Seteth was staring at her in pure shock. "Professor, to think you had such thoughts in mind. I have misinterpreted you. I believed you were surely mocking me. It is very hard to infer from your expressions what you truly mean. I can only see the bite behind your words."
"I've been told I have quite a peculiar sense of humor," Byleth responded with a shrug. "However, I hope you now understand that I have no intention of belittling you. We simply stand on opposite ends."
Seteth frowned. Indeed, perhaps he had been too hasty in his decision to stamp her as an enemy. He remembered the words he once used on Felix. He had lectured Felix once before on a random visit to the training grounds about how he had a habit of pushing others with different beliefs away. And now Seteth was doing exactly the same thing he had scolded Felix for.
Perhaps Byleth was right. He indeed was defensive about anything regarding Seiros. His entire identity and being relied on his full devotion to the Goddess. But no one could ever understand his feelings of deep gratitude towards Rhea. He couldn't tell anyone about his true identity. Never. Not when he had too much at stake to lose.
But this brat of a professor was offering him a hand. As the wiser adult of many millennia, it would only be right to take her offer.
"I see. So you seek to reconcile our differences," Seteth hummed in thought, though there was no denying the small shadow of a smile hanging on his lips. "Friendship…huh…?" he mumbled to himself.
Byleth placed a hand on her hip, tilting her head to the side. "There's no need to hurry, Seteth. I plan on staying for the long haul. Unless my father leaves the Church one day."
Seteth crossed his arms behind his back, straightening his posture. He then nodded. "Of course. I will…take your offer into consideration."
Cerulean orbs twinkled underneath the newfound wave of warmth permeating the air between the two previously tensed duo. "That is more than I could ask for, Seteth."
"Is that a transfer form you are holding in your hand?"
Lysithea glanced up from her seat outside Seteth's room. She spotted the familiar silvery hair from miles away, but ignored it. It was a confrontation she expected to happen, yet wanted to avoid at all costs. But fate seemed to have different plans for her, and she sighed. She mustered up the courage to speak and stared directly into those piercing violet irises. "Yes, it is, Edelgard."
"...I see." Violet orbs burned holes into the innocent paper in Lysithea's hands. She noticed the familiar insignia or dark blue manes stamped onto the paper — one that she could never bring herself to look at without feeling an uncomfortable feeling rising inside of her. Was it hatred or perhaps a dull sense of loneliness? Whatever it was, she ignored it and focused on more important matters at hand. "So, is this your answer to my preposition?" Edelgard spoke quietly under her breath.
Lysithea closed her eyes. "Edelgard, I do not know what you have in plan." She paused, flickering through the burning memories in her head. The dark cells. The screams for help. The never-ending piercing pain. And then the whirlwind of blue that came crashing into her life, throwing her out of the darkness, giving her a new beginning. Pink orbs snapped open, resolute. "However, I cannot walk the same path you are heading down. I am sorry."
"May I ask why?" Edelgard frowned in heavy disappointment, violet eyes losing their shine for a brief second. "I treated you as a long, lost sibling. One who could understand the pain I went through. Do you not wish for the same change I wish?"
Lysithea shook her head, white hair twirling in the calm breeze that swept in through the open windows of the second floor. "Of course, I do. If possible, I want to change this world from the bottom to the top. This world that relies too heavily on the power of crests. Those nobles that misuse their powers for their own greedy needs. I want to purge them all." She then glared at Edelgard. "But I will do it in a way that will not obliterate all that I care for in this world. This world is still worth living in, Edelgard. Even if I only have a couple of years left, there are things I must do to protect, not destroy."
Edelgard stared blankly at Lysithea, her stomach plummeting at the younger one's confident declaration. "I see. So you choose to protect what you have instead of fighting for the future. That is a shame. A real shame."
"Edelgard, I would like to give you a warning," Lysithea began. "Do not bring Satiana into your endless pursuit of revenge. She does not wish for the destruction of Fodlan, Edelgard."
"I do not wish for the obliteration of Fodlan, Lysithea. I only pursue a revolution. It is for the greater good that I will dirty my hands in blood," Edelgard argued, violet eyes narrowing with a spark of disdain.
Lysithea frowned in response. "But it is that action of yours that will ultimately turn her away from you. Satiana would never stoop as low as those disgusting mages to create the future she wishes to see."
"Like I said, that is naïve," Edelgard scoffed. "Even if we destroy them, it will change nothing. Lives will continue to be lost under the tragic and heinous reign of those in power. This cruel world will never change unless someone destroys it all from the beginning."
Lysithea shook her head. "I may not know everything you are planning, but I can assure you, it is absolutely reckless, Edelgard. What will you do after imposing your will through force? How much blood will be shed for the sake of Fodlan's future?"
Edelgard gritted her teeth. "Someone must do it, Lysithea. For how long must we live in a world trampled by beings proclaiming themselves as divinity? They know nothing of our suffering and will never bat an eye in our direction." She glanced off the side, a solemn look on her face. "The Goddess has answered none of our prayers. I doubt they will soon. That is why…I must change this world. For everyone's sake."
Lysithea sighed. "That is where our beliefs differ, Edelgard. To me…to us…even in this cruel world, there are still things worth living for. She taught me something, Edelgard. When she saved me from the dungeon, from my death sentence, she showed me it was possible for the world to change. For people to come together. I spent three years rebuilding the County of Ordelia with my own hands. It was a very…eye-opening experience for me."
Lysithea exhaled shakily, staring at her hands. "If she didn't come for me then, perhaps I would've joined your cause. I would've wanted nothing more than to destroy all those nobles and this crest-ridden world. But right now, I want my beloved family to live in peace first. And as a noble myself, I have the power to do so. I've seen with my own eyes the change a righteous leader can bring, and that is what I will fight for."
She lifted her head up to meet Edelgard's burning gaze. "There is still hope in this land, Edelgard. We are not forsaken. When like-minded individuals work together for a greater cause…it is simply magical. If you insist on shattering this world through force, then this is where our paths diverge, for I believe such a reckless pursuit of change would only lead to chaos. I do not want our future to be built upon unnecessary bloodshed," Lysithea concluded, standing up from her seat. "I believe this conversation is over. I have nothing more to say to you. However, as fellow brethren…I am sorry that I cannot help you with your cause. I wish you will one day find peace, Edelgard. I truly do."
Lysithea deserted Edelgard, opening the doors to Seteth's office, handing in the paper that sealed her fate as a new member of the Blue Lions.
Edelgard stood outside the door, clenching her fists. She stared out the window, eyes forlorn. "Hope, huh?" She laughed cynically to herself, shaking her head. She stared at her hands, feeling herself sinking into the vast black hole of despair, devouring her whole. "Unlike you all, I have no one who will take my hand out of the darkness. The only one who can save me is myself. I am envious of you lot. I really am. I have no reason to live in this cruel world unlike you all who have found new family or friends."
She exhaled, violet eyes shining with determination — the determination to die.
"But I cannot stop walking down this bloody path. I will emerge victorious. I must, for my sake. For everyone's sake. Even if I must play the role of the greatest villainess of all time."
Because Edelgard was really nothing but a lonely and loveless child, one forsaken by the Goddess. There was no one who could guide her down the correct path. Fate had already chosen a side.
And it wasn't hers the professor took.