The walk back up the stairs and through the winding corridors was long, quiet and cold. The sister kept her hands at her chest, fingers interlaced while her lips moved in some vague prayer. Every once in a while, she would glance to Byleth out of the corner of her eye but when their eyes met, she'd look away as if Byleth would leap at her. It galled her but was hardly a distraction from the biting cold in her bones and the chill seeping through her damp shift. Her teeth were chattering when they finally reached the semi-lit corridors above the dungeons.

The castle had seemed deserted a short while ago but now, it blazed with life either because she'd been in the dim darkness for so long or the alarm had awoken it. At the first person they met, the sister requested their cloak for the queen. The guard made a show of diverting his eyes to preserve the queen's modesty. Such a show in fact that he missed the sour look on her face at having witnessed the display at all. The cloak stunk and was rough on her skin but anything was better than traipsing back in nothing but her shift.

More soldiers and servants rushed past them than she'd seen the entire time of her stay at Castle Gautier. It hummed with activity suited to midday and not the middle of the night. Seems that the queen consort being rescued in the dungeons was more of a to-do than she'd thought. Most paused to bob their heads or make short bows to her before rushing past on some errand or other. The attention was beginning to color her cheeks and she held the cloak tighter at her neck.

She heard him before she saw him. The sound of Dimitri's voice resonated down the hallway and his anger was unmistakable. Without sparing a glance to the sister, Byleth took off at a run, leaving the cloak where it fell behind her. He must have been so frightened to wake up without her beside him. That and angry to think of how she'd disappeared. What a fool to think she'd been dreaming and follow that cursed light like a fish to a lure. Goddess knew what he would do if he thought she'd been taken.

Rounding the corner, she found him standing just outside their chamber door, stripped to the waist and dangling a soldier at least a foot from the ground by the arm holes of his breastplate. The man, who'd likely been the one to wake him, looked terrified and with good reason. Dimitri's lips were peeled back, bearing his teeth like an animal.

"Tell me where she is!" His voice, like his temper, roared and he shook the full grown man in armor like a rag-doll.

"Dimitri!"

He stilled at the sound of her voice. When their eyes met he dropped the soldier who scrambled back to catch his balance against the wall.

"Byleth!"

His arms were around her, crushing her against his bare chest before she realized he'd covered the distance between them. Her own arms circled his waist and she too was squeezing as tightly as she could. His skin was warm against her cheek.

"Where were you?" he was asking. "I fell asleep and then they pounded on the door. You're shaking." He stepped back just enough to look down at her and next, his hands closed on her bare arms, working to rub the chill away. "Your skin is like ice. They said you were in the dungeon."

This would be one of the only times in her recollection that she'd been the one to do something reckless and foolish. She nodded wondering if he were going to chide her and working to find her voice. The comfort of a torch lit hallway and the warmth of his arms began to chip away at her steely resolve and she could feel the fright of it all beginning to shake her in place of the cold.

He waited a moment or two for her to speak and when she did not, he folded his arms around her more gently this time and she melted against him. "Sister," he addressed her escort over her head. "Have warm water and soap brought to the room. And tea," he added as an afterthought.

The sister's slippered feet whispered away from them without another word.

"Come," he said tenderly, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "We can't talk here out in the open."

Then she was being guided toward their room and Dimitri's arm was warm and heavy around her shoulders.

"Wake Gilbert, if he is not roused already," he said to the guard who was still flat against the wall. "Call him to my rooms."

Vaguely aware of the soldier's retreating footsteps, Byleth nestled against him. His breath was steady and his heartbeat clear and strong. What had transpired that night felt so much like a dream that she had trouble thinking of it as anything but. Now, being so near something warm and alive, she could feel truly awake. Dimitri was solid and comforting against her cheek. He was real. He was alive.

Thankfully, he withheld his questions until he had undressed her and set her in front of the hearth wrapped in his thick, fur lined cloak. He had gently rolled the thin shift over her head with a mild hand that she wondered how he'd managed to rip the clothing from her body with such ease earlier that night. At the sound of her teeth chattering, the worried furrow between his brows deepened and he insisted that she sit as close to the fire as possible without singing her clothing.

The fur along the top lining of the cloak smelled like Dimitri and the out of doors. More than once she buried her face in it and was nearly lulled to sleep by the crackling of the flames and his hands on her legs, stroking her calves against the feel of cold.

The water, when it arrived, was perfectly warm. So warm in fact that it stung her legs at the first pass of the sponge. The cold in her bones was absolute and the heated water felt like it might shatter them. When she winced and jerked, Dimitri paused to look up from where he knelt in front of her.

"I'm sorry it's uncomfortable, beloved, but the heat will help."

She nodded and did her best to relax as he washed the mud from her skin, lifting her legs with astonishing care and reverence as he worked. So it went with her legs and arms. Leaning forward when prompted, she rested her forehead on his bare shoulder as he washed her back. When he was finished, all remnants of the dungeon had been washed away and her teeth had stopped clacking.

They talked softly as he washed her, listening quietly without interruption aside from a tightening of his lips or a grimace that wrinkled his forehead and nose. When she paused or was overcome at the retelling, he would prod her gently to continue with another question. Before she knew it, she'd shared it all with him from the moment she woke up to her rescue at the hands of Father Hobbs.

Dimitri sat back on his heels, face drawn tight and eyes downcast as he thought. She shifted in the chair anxiously, not sure if he would even believe her. More than once in the telling she too thought it sounded so outlandish that it couldn't be real. After a moment or two, he looked up at her, his expression unreadable.

"Are you sure it was the same song you heard before?"

She nodded.

"Then it stands to reason that the abyss wants you."

Her brows furrowed. That had crossed her mind but she had dismissed it as a possibility. How egotistical to think something like this had anything to do with yourself?

"Or it doesn't like that you escaped unscathed," he continued. "Either way, I suspect that the darkness itself or something inside of it is alive." He made an exasperated sound and shook his head. "I don't know what I'm saying in truth. But I am afraid." The admission caught her off guard and the fear in his eyes was plain.

A knock at the door freed them from their thoughts with a jump. "Your majesties. I have come as summoned."

"Just a moment Gilbert." He stood and was pulling a shirt over his head as he continued. "Regardless of my musings, it's clear to me that we need to leave as soon as possible."

Byleth clutched the cloak at her neck as he pulled her gently to her feet, unwilling to leave the warmth within it. "Are you able to dress yourself and prepare to leave?"

She nodded. The soft smile and caress of his knuckles against her cheek made her think it had not been as confident as she hoped. Then, he was shutting it behind him and she was left alone in the room. Her stomach twisted at the shadows in the corners of the room but the muffled sound of his voice through the thick door was enough to comfort her as she went about the business of dressing herself. Still, she was not able to ignore the memory of those specter-like eyes and that enveloping darkness.

What had the voice meant when it said that she was ready to see? Ready to see what? Simply recalling what had transpired broke her out in a cold sweat. How irritating that she couldn't even think about it without going to distraction. With a sigh and a shake of her head, she tucked those questions aside to focus on their next steps.

They would go to Fhirdiad first and then, from there, to Garreg Mach. While she wasn't exactly looking forward to seeing the archbishop, Rhea had a way of knowing things that others didn't. Perhaps there was a spark of hope that answers would come soon.

Rumors, by nature, spread quickly. When those rumors involve royalty they can spread like a wildfire in a windstorm. By the time she and Dimitri were dressed and seated in the audience chamber, everyone was whispering about what had happened in the dungeons.

Some said she'd been attacked by the ghosts of the Srengens killed in the expansion. It was commonly believed that they roamed the hallways at night. Some said that she had attempted to free the prisoners and they had turned on her, which was partially true.

Others claimed that she herself was mad and had been found naked in the lower recesses of the castle raving about ghosts. Rumors about the commoner turned queen had sprung up around the kingdom since the royal wedding. Many suspected that she'd used some form of sorcery to make the king fall in love with her. Byleth was blissfully unaware of these but as she accepted a porcelain cup of steaming tea from a servant in the audience chamber, she noted the calculating look leveled at her.

The audience chamber was barren just like the rest of castle Gautier with stone walls and sparse lighting from mounted torches. At least the fireplace had been set to blazing and the room felt warm. The night had softened into the early morning and the black outside the tall windows had a more predominant hue of blue. The servant made their exit along the thin carpet that ran the length of the chamber from the door to stop before the dais where they sat.

The sturdy chair at the center of the dais was certainly no throne but the craftsmanship and detailed carving on the high back marked it as the lord's seat. Byleth assumed that any chair Dimitri sat in would seem regal just by his presence. With his leg propped up atop his other knee, Dimitri was the very picture of ease. One might believe that this was his audience chamber rather than that of a border lord.

Byleth sat at his left hand on a smaller albeit comfortable chair. She'd have preferred to stand next to him but the queen consort must be seated, placed on the chair in such a way that she thought she should cross her ankles. She had dressed to ride in knitted pants and tunic, much like what she'd arrived in but to see her perched beside Dimitri sipping tea from a delicate cup, one could mistake her for a maiden. Without Margaret there to braid her hair, she let it hang loose in pale green waves to her shoulders.

For the hundredth time, she wondered distinctively how she'd ever gotten used to this. Dimitri glanced at her and chuckled as she fidgeted uncomfortably.

"You still don't enjoy sitting to the side like some sort of ornament, do you? Not that I'd expect you to."

Color blanched on her cheeks as she raised the cup to her lips. It seemed that, for some reason, she should be accustomed to someone reading her thoughts. This must be a returning sense of familiarity, she thought idly. When she looked back up, he'd straightened in the chair and was gazing intently at her.

Hardly the disheveled man she'd found bellowing outside of their room, he was now as composed as the man at the dinner table last night. His armor once again adorned his frame and his hair was neatly tied back behind his head. She thought that this must be what it was like to have two different husbands, or perhaps a husband and a lover?

Her blush deepened at the thought, she could feel it burning on her cheeks. He chuckled again, obviously enjoying the effect he had on her.

"You should remember that you are no ornament to me," he said, dropping the lighthearted tease from his tone. When she met his eyes again, they were steeped in sincerity. "I need you by my side. I said as much in my letters to you."

Her arched eyebrow indicated that she did not remember any such letters. He sighed realizing the same as she.

"I wish I knew where you'd kept them. I wonder if reading them would help to restore some of your memory."

An unspoken apology quirked the side of her mouth.

He sighed again and shook his head. "This will be difficult but having you with me will help to ease my mind."

She nodded and then returned her attention to the double wooden doors that opened out into the smaller receiving room beyond. The Margrave and Sylvain would be joining them at any moment now and it was taxing not to be able to see them coming through the oversized wooden doors. They had been seated in this cavernous room long enough for her to lose track of time while the preparations for departure proceeded outside.

From the moment he left their chamber, Gilbert had been diligently overseeing preparations and sending missives by owl to notify Fhirdiad and Garreg Mach of their imminent arrival. The other lords in all the Kingdom's territories must be notified of the occurrence and send reports of similar incidents to both the capital and the monastery. There was no telling where the party would be when the missives began to return.

While Gilbert saw to the preparations, Dimitri planned his next move with her in their chamber as they dressed. There were four mages within summoning distance from the castle and it had been decided that she, Dimitri, Sylvain and Felix would utilize the warp spell leaving Gilbert and the Blue Lion Knights behind.

Father Hobbs had not been seen since the incident, nor had the sisters that accompanied him so she could not estimate what Margrave Gautier knew. She was certain the father went directly to his lord when additional soldiers had arrived to guard the door. Even with her rescue at his hands, she did not trust him. It was evident that his allegiance did not lie with the king and that could pose problems if not dealt with.

According to other reports, the abyss had not advanced and no one had been allowed close enough to fall under its spell. The door to the dungeon where the soldiers had been held could not be opened. The key to the door turned easily in the lock but the door would no budge one way or another. When the key and locksmiths could not open it, they'd tried everything from hammers to magic but the door remained shut. It was inexplicable how it had come to be sealed but considering the circumstances made her queasy.

Despite not being at war, these felt like the preparations for battle. It felt the most like home she'd felt since this all began. A glance to the arched windows flanking the dias found the sky a lighter shade of blue. The stars had winked out at the approach of the sun. This was taking longer than she liked.

Her stomach leapt as the doors opened and Dimitri shifted with a casual aire to adjust his posture. She didn't think she could sit any straighter than she was already. Margrave Gautier barreled into the room, hardly giving the guards time to fully open the doors. Sylvain was hot on his heels and where the Margrave's face was beet red, his son's was a mask of grave acceptance.

"What is the meaning of summoning me to my own audience chamber?" Gautier bellowed still half way down the carpeted runner.

Dimitri remained still in his seat, hands relaxed on the thick wooden arms of the chair. Somehow, he managed to look relaxed while sitting perfectly erect. She shifted again in her seat and took another sip of her tea working to hide the anger that sparked at the Margrave's blatant disrespect.

His silence as he watched them must have stoked the old man's anger because when he stopped before the dais his hands were shaking at his sides. Gautier planted his feet to look up defiantly at the silver-clad king. "Well?"

Dimitri's eyes slipped shut for a heartbeat. When he opened them again, the biting ice from the night before fixed on the old man. His gaze was unyielding and his voice soft and low. "Am I outside of my rights as the King of Faerghus to summon my lords to my presence?"

"Of course not, your majesty," Sylvain interjected when his father's tongue failed to work. Casting a quick glance to his father that said he should follow suit, he bowed respectfully.

Swallowing whatever he'd planned to say, Gautier bent at the waist for a brisk bow. Dimitri did not offer a nod or thank them for attending him as he might on any other day. He remained stone faced on the dais, observing them with a detached coldness that made her uneasy.

"You may rise." His rich voice filled the hall, easily reaching the men at the door. "Leave us and see that we are not disturbed."

The guards shut the doors with a resounding bang that echoed off the bare walls as Gautier and his son straightened. Tension filled the air and was once again so thick that she could almost touch it. It was suffocating. Dimitri had not moved an inch save for a lift of his chin as he spoke.

"Margrave Gautier," Dimitri began. "How long have you guarded our northern border?"

The unexpected question plainly confused him. Indignity flared as he drew himself up to his full height. "House Gautier has guarded our northern border against invasion since Faerghus separated from the Empire. I was defending it before you could pick up your first sword."

Dimitri's laugh was so subtle that it may not have reached anyone beyond the dais. "Indeed. You have devoted the great majority of your life to the service of Faerghus, a sacrifice for which I am grateful. I have summoned you here, because I wish to thank you from the bottom of my heart."

This gave the margrave pause and drew Sylvain's distant look to focus on them. Surely they could hear the cold in Dimitri's voice that contradicted his words. His smile, devoid of warmth, masked some secret enjoyment known only to him.

"As a show of my gratitude, I wish to extend something that very few men and women of Faerghus receive. Henceforth, I relieve you of your duty to the Dukedom of Gautier. Your land and authority will be passed on to your son, Sylvain Jose Gautier and you will spend the remainder of your days in peace and repose."

Despite the honied words, only a fool could miss the dagger behind them. The old man's face drained of color before her eyes, leaving Byleth to wonder how he did not faint. Sylvain lowered his gaze for a split second as if he were searching for something there before darting back up to the dais.

Whatever Gautier had wanted to say, he swallowed as he stared down the fair-haired king and chose his words carefully.

"Your Majesty," he began taking a step forward and sinking to his knee. Whatever Gautier had wanted to say, he swallowed as he knelt and chose his next words carefully. "Thank you for your gracious gift. It is my greatest honor to safeguard our land and our people. I assure you, my King, I am not weary of this great responsibility. Your Majesty, my King, allow me to continue to serve you and our countrymen. Please." The plea must have soured in his mouth the way that it twisted at the word.

Dimitri's eyes glistened as he stood. Color sprang to her cheeks as she watched him slowly rise to his full height, his cloak shifted to fall heavily to his heels. He towered over the kneeling man, who winced in his uncertainty of what was to come. Dimitri smiled. He would enjoy what came next.

"Phillipe, I am surprised at you. I thought you, of all people, would appreciate my reasons. Was it not you who cast aside a son when his usefulness had run out?"

Shocked, the Margrave's eyes darted up to the King's face. Sylvain's gaze snapped into focus at the mention of his elder brother. Both of them visibly shaken at this unexpected turn.

"Am I mistaken, Phillipe?" Dimitri tilted his head, feigning confusion. "It was you, was it not, that disinherited your eldest son when your youngest was revealed to bear the crest of Gautier? What was his name?"

Gautier's voice was barely audible and his body shook where he knelt. "His name was Miklan."

"Life is difficult in the north and it is the way of things to cast aside what can no longer serve its function. Is it not?" Each word was a calculated jab and the tilted grin on his face revealed the joy in which he delivered each blow. He had indeed allowed his anger to cool and this was what remained.

"Your majesty! I beg of you please, let me explain," the man spluttered.

"Enough," A raised hand silenced the room. "Will you peacefully transfer your title and land to your son?"

Gautier was quiet, his face red and his eyes glued belligerently to the floor.

"Answer me." It was a command befitting a dog. When Gautier did not, Dimitri alighted the dais to approach the old man with heavy prowling steps, looking for all the world like a lion preparing to feast.

"If you do not transfer your title and land, I will strip you of it and I will cart you off to serve me in Fhirdiad for the rest of your life."

Gautier looked up at him, shock giving way to fear at the blunt threat. Visible sweat beaded heavily on his brow but Dimitri's advance was unrelenting if not excruciatingly deliberate. At last he stopped. If he were to continue, Gautier would have to move or be trodden on.

"There you will remain with me until the end of your days and you will never set foot on this land again. Unless you obey me." The fabric of his cloak whispered as he extended his hand, palm to the floor, an opportunity for a show of fealty.

She felt like the air had been drawn out of the room as the pair of them filled her vision. It seemed that no one, not even the margrave himself knew what he would do. As time stood still, the plan they had crafted played rapidly across her mind.

"And if he agrees?" she had asked him.
"Then I am a man of my word and he will live out the rest of his life in his home."
"How can you be sure he will not mount a rebellion in your absence?"

The wolfish grin that spread across his face insinuated that he hoped the old man would. Through that grin he replied, "Due to the lack of warpers, it will not seem strange that the Knights and Gilbert remain. I will send additional troops to bolster their numbers. In support of the exchange of power, of course."

Sylvain watched the exchange from the corner of his eye, expression still unreadable. Perhaps he had expected this or perhaps he saw the justice in this after having endured so much at the hands of his elder brother. Either way, his grave acceptance was somehow heartbreaking, as though the lighthearted person she knew was impermanent, something he reveled in while he could, knowing fully what the future held for him whether he wanted it or not.

Even kneeling, Margrave Gautier held his ground stubbornly refusing to move an inch. But Dimitri was a patient man and just as unyielding. The intensity of his gaze bore down on the old man and at last, when Byleth thought she couldn't bear the growing tension any longer, he relented. When he ducked his head, Byelth released the breath she'd obliviously been holding.

In a rush of movement, Gautier took Dimitri's hand in his and drew the knuckles to his forehead. Pressing them against his brow, the oath of fealty tumbled out of him. "My King. I renew my vow, that my family will serve Faerghus and the royal family until they deem us unworthy. My son will make a fine Margrave and serve you in my stead."

Dimitri withdrew his hand gently but his gaze remained hard, fixed and unblinking on the bowed head of the man before him. The silence pressed in around them and several moments passed before Dimitri was satisfied. "Very good. We will announce Sylvain's new title and then depart for Fhirdiad."

Without granting the man leave to rise, Dimitri brushed past him to lean in close to Sylvain. Byleth stood to follow behind.

"You may not want this now, but I know with no doubt that this is the right and proper course of action," he said, clapping a hand to Sylvain's shoulder.

Sylvain nodded with all the aire of someone who was about to receive his last meal, grateful but wary of what was to come.

Dimitri continued toward the doors and, as she passed, she turned to meet Sylvain's eyes. He did not meet her gaze. He had turned and was watching as Dimitri passed through the opened doors. Leaving him there, she quickened her step to catch up to Dimitri.

He was pulling his armored gloves onto his fingers when she joined him in the receiving room. Gilbert stood next to him, stoney faced as ever. "Are we ready to depart after the announcement, Gilbert?"

"Yes, your Majesty."
"And Hobbs?"
"I will see to it, your Majesty."

"Thank you Gilbert," he said with all the pleasantness of a summer's day, then turned to her with that easy smile that melted her insides. He offered her his arm and she took it without thought. Before long, she was blinking into the morning light atop the stone stairs that lead down into the confines of the courtyard.

The tiny courtyard was bustling and the main gates were wide open to reveal the sweeping green fields beyond. She'd missed this view during their harried ride the night before and the emerald grasses seemed at stark odds with everything she'd known of Gautier's land so far. It suddenly made sense that decadent cheeses and cream came from the cows here. This peak into the lands riches softened something inside of her in the midst of this morning's tumult and political intrigue. She could understand how she might have fallen in love with this land.

The soldiers and servants milling about in the courtyard stopped as shouts rose and passed further back beyond the gate, altering everyone to the king's presence. All in attendance bowed or curtsied. The rustle of skirts and the clang of armor filled the air as everyone straightened gaze up at them framed by the arched wooden door frame behind.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Dimitri began. His voice and sincerity carried easily across the courtyard to everyone present. Smiles of adoration had begun to spread on the faces of many and some held their hands to their hearts or touched their knuckles to lips. How curious to see so many plainly enamored with him be it by power or demeanor. But as she looked up at the man by her side and the sun glinted off his hair and armor alike, Byleth admitted to herself that she could understand how he could inspire his subjects in such a way.

"I have seen the abyss that threatens our northern border and I ask you all to have courageous hearts. Do not falter in the face of fear and uncertainty. I will send word when I have consulted with the ArchBishop. Until then, do your best to remain steadfast."

"Long live the King!"

The solitary shout was taken up by others and joined with cries of "For the Holy Kingdom." How such a small number gathered could raise a thunderous sound like this she did not know. Her blood warmed and her lungs filled with pride despite this not being her homeland. Perhaps she had begun to think of it as so and this was the returning love she had for it?

With a raised hand, he called for silence.

"We will depart for Garreg Mach and, Goddess willing, will return with the answers we need. Until then, carry on and remain steadfast."

The crowd gave away with little prompting to continue the preparations. With a start, Byleth realized that Gautier and Sylvain had joined them on the landing. As Gautier wished Dimitri a safe journey Byleth turned to Sylvain who was pulling on his gloves with an unnecessary amount of focus. Without even looking at her, somehow he knew what she was planning to say.

"Don't bother, Professor." He'd slipped back into her old honorific, a habit that she guessed was difficult for all of her lions to break. "It's not like I haven't been groomed for this my entire life whether I wanted it or not."

The weight of his tone and his words pushed down on her and she furrowed her eyebrows in thought. Sylvain glanced to her out of the corner of his eye and a mirthless laugh puffed out of him. "It's impossible to tell Dimitri no when he's decided something. You of all people should know that."

The bitterness in his tone struck her. And what did he mean that she should know? Even if she did not intend it, her imagination picked up the bait and a new flurry of questions swirled in her mind. If only she could remember!

"Come. Preparations should be complete and our horses ready for departure."

With a snap of her head, she found Dimitri smiling down at her. She took his offered arm and proceeded down the stairs. The warpers had taken up their positions outside the courtyard gate where four horses were saddled with blinders at the ready. Sylvain followed behind, joined at the foot of the stairs by Felix and his father. She could hear a murmured conversation behind her but could not make out any words further.

"I think that went well."

Dimitri sounded pleased but when she looked up to him she found his expression stern and gaze fixed ahead. Pursing her lips, she wondered. "Did it?"

"When a shift in power does not end in bloodshed, it went well."

"What about after we leave?"

"You never can tell, beloved. The best we can do is make it appear to be amicable and then leave a military presence to oversee the change."

She nodded, unable to hide her distaste for these sorts of proceedings.

"I didn't have a taste for it either," he said softly, his tone drawing her eyes back up to this face. "But it is necessary. I cannot have the lords of my kingdom regarding me as an equal or a child. You understand that, don't you?"

Byleth nodded. Often she'd been forced to make a decision for the greater good, even when she wasn't certain of the outcome. One had to maintain a sense of control and authority, especially on the battlefield. Your authority cannot be questioned. Being a king, it seemed, was much like being a general or the leader of a mercenary band.

He must be particularly wary of rebellions after what had happened in the western territories after his father's murder. And quickly after, Lonato's rebellion. She could understand his decision to shift the seat of power but the bloodthirsty glint in his eye and provocation in his tone made it clear that he'd have welcomed a challenge and an excuse for violence. Perhaps he was not as opposed to bloodshed as he would have her believe.

The sun was just creeping over the horizon even though the cloudless sky had been the light blue of the day's beginning for sometime. The gathered mages who were to perform the warp were dressed in all manner of attire, one in traditional robes, another dressed for work in the field and two had evidently dressed quickly in whatever was at hand. They made no attempt to hide disgruntled expressions as they readied themselves before each horse.

Shifting in her saddle, Byleth surveyed the faces of her companions and found each set in his resolve. Much like their journey to the northern border, they would warp and ride as hard as they could to Fhirdiad. There they would receive new horses and another warp would send them on their way to Garreg Mach. It would be an arduous journey.

Felix leaned forward out of his saddle as Rodrigue spoke to him softly. He nodded but said nothing in reply, likely embarrassed at some heartfelt well wishes from his father. With an encouraging pat to his son's stirruped leg, Rodrigue turned toward them. He stepped between Byleth and Dimitri's horses and reached up to take Dimitri's forearm.

"Good luck. I will return to my lands as soon as you depart. Are you leaving your Knights behind?" It seemed a simple question but his eyes shook as Dimitri straightened from their goodbye.

"They may stay quite a while, depending on the circumstances."

Rodrigue nodded, appearing to fully understand the enigmatic answer. Then, turning his smile to her, he reached up to take her gloved hand. "I wish you luck as well, my Queen. I am thankful that you have emerged safely from the events of the previous day."

She nodded and he gave her hand a firm squeeze. Having said his piece, Rodrigue stepped back many paces, well outside of the warp zone but his gaze remained on Dimitri. The mages took their positions in front of the party and there was no more time to think about the events of that morning.

They secured their mount's blinders and settled in to sit as still as possible in their saddles. Where the group of warpers had a leader in Fhirdiad, this ragtag group would coordinate themselves it appeared. At a nod from Dimitri, they began their incantation and the fluid swirling of their arms in the air. As she began to feel the tingle of magic charging the air around her, she heard a low rumbling that she'd not heard in a warping spell before.

Frowning, she looked around and found that the others were also looking around with perplexed expressions. The warpers, enrapt in their concentration, did not cease their spell. Even as they continued the rumble burst into roar that shook the ground beneath them.

Like a thousand frenzied drums banging in no particular rhythm or order, the sound filled her ears and everything around her heaved with such violence that she tightened her legs against her horse's flank. The tingling feeling intensified until it began to burn hot on her skin and the mages in front of her tilted and stumbled with the final gestures of the spell.

The film of magic slapped against her, blistering hot as it encased her like a second skin which burned with the intensity of live coals on paper. She screamed or her horse screamed, she couldn't tell the difference. Stark white burst across her eyes and then her vision went black.

She couldn't see or hear anything but the searing heat continued to press in until she thought her bones would cook in her boiling blood. If her eyes were opened, she couldn't tell nor could she squeeze them shut. Nothing was solid as she floated there, suspended in nothing and knowing nothing but pain and heat. Her nerves screamed even when she couldn't open her mouth to do so with her voice. The agony continued to devour her until a violent ripping sound assailed her ears. The sound was outside of herself and it began and ended in an instant.

Suddenly there was something solid beneath her. Every muscle in her body flexed and contracted as she came into herself. Her lips opened as she gasped at the air like a fish out of water. There was something soft and cold beneath her hands. She grasped at it, digging nails into the soft soil beneath the blades of grass that she tore in her clawing. Sound accompanied her breath at last and an inhuman screech erupted from her throat.

Shaking from fear and pain, she rutted her face into the ground, not knowing fully where she was or even what she was. Her breath gradually returned to her, and the strained sounds she made deepened into a low, rattling wail. It was muffled by the ground as she turned to bury her face against the earth. Mud. She remembered that this was called mud and grass. She could smell the grass. She could feel the mud on her hands and face. She was alive. She was a human. All of these realizations tumbled across her mind, piling up and spilling over one another as she clung desperately to the thick blades of grass.

Her name was Byleth. She was a human. She was alive. Shuddering, the strength in her limbs gave out and she fell forward. Exhaustion overtook her. Her eyes shut, her breath evened and then the morning light dimmed behind her falling lashes.