By the time the Black Eagles reached the surface, the sky had become grey, giving way to a light rain. It had rained when Jeralt died as well, Leonie recalled.
It was a small mercy, she thought to herself; her tears would remain hidden that way. As she stood there, arms wrapped around herself as she stared down at the captain's grave, the last thing she wanted was for the man she'd so admired to see her cry.
Then again, she wasn't sure he'd want to see her at all right now.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to the empty space around her. "I promised you, after you died. I promised that I'd do everything I could to protect her in your place, and now..."
When he'd died, she'd been heartbroken; she couldn't imagine anything worse than the feeling of that loss. Now, only two moons removed from that day, and she didn't need to imagine. She wasn't merely sad this time; she felt empty. Useless. Broken.
She fell to her knees, cataplexy setting in. "I-I'm so sorry," she uttered, her voice breaking. "I failed... I failed you... I'm so sor-"
"There is nothing for you to be sorry for, child."
A gentle hand came to rest on Leonie's shoulder. The voice that came with it, calm. It would have been soothing, had it not sounded so familiar, yet at the same time, so alien to her ear. Instead, it caused a trickle of frustration to mix with her sorrow, as a reminder of her own weakness.
"I guess you would know, wouldn't you? You're the Goddess. You know everything."
She merely sat on the ground beside Leonie, arms folded over her knees, eyes looking straight ahead into the distance.
"I am not omniscient, Leonie. I know only what I can perceive, just as you do. My gaze is simply a touch wider than most."
"So, what?" she snapped. "Can you tell me what Captain Jeralt thinks of me right now?"
"I cannot." If she noticed Leonie's glare, she gave no indication; she continued to stare unflinchingly forward.
After a brief silence, the Goddess closed her eyes.
"But I can tell you what Byleth thought of you." Leonie's eyes widened at that, before narrowing again.
Sothis merely continued. "I have shared this body with her from the day she was born. Everything she knew, I know. Everything she saw, I saw. Everything she thought, I heard. So I can tell you, honestly and truthfully," her lips curled into a wistful smile, "that you were one of her favorites."
...That couldn't have been right. Her? Leonie? Leonie Pinelli, that Leonie?
The Goddess must have sensed her confusion. "Is that truly so surprising?"
"I mean... yeah. I wasn't always all that friendly to her, y'know? I... I said a lot of stuff I wish I could take back, now..."
Sothis hummed. "I can see what you might mean by that. She never begrudged you any of it, however." She let out a tiny giggle, a light, airy thing that shocked Leonie with how natural it felt from what were once the professor's lips. "If I am being honest, she had come to see that as what having a younger sister must have been like. Troublesome at times, yes, but worth whatever hardship you might have put her through."
A sister. That might have been nice, Leonie thought. She had dad and mom back home in Sauin, sure, so it wasn't as though she didn't have one family she loved dearly, but she'd also come to see Jeralt as a second father of sorts. The image it painted in her head, of the three of them as a family of mercenaries, side by side... it brought a smile to her face.
"Do you remember what you told her, earlier on this very moon? When her appearance changed, after I surrendered my power to her?" Leonie shook her head. The Goddess turned to meet her gaze. "At that time, everyone started to look at her differently, in one way or another. Whether that be with awe, with wonder, with fear, none looked at her in quite the same way after that. She never did let on how that had hurt her, but then, she never let on much of anything, I suppose. But you, Leonie," she continued, taking the girl's hand in her own, "you said to her, 'don't lose sight of who you really are. However you may change, and whatever new power goes along with those changes—you'll still be the same person, deep down.' You were the one person who told her what she so desperately wished to hear, when she needed to hear it the most. She could never begin to thank you enough for those words... so please, allow me to thank you in her place. From the bottom of her heart, and of mine."
Her grip tightened on the Goddess' hand, and soon, not even the rain could hide her tears. She fell into Sothis' arms, weeping loudly and freely. The Goddess shrugged the loose jacket from her shoulders, swinging it over Leonie's head to shield the girl from the rain. "Here. One of us is sure to catch their death of cold in this weather, and I can say with some certainty that it will not be me."
"I-I just... why...?" she sniffled. "I-I should have been able to pr-"
"I am going to stop you right there." She wrapped her arms around Leonie in a gentle, comforting embrace. "You are grieving, and there is nothing wrong with that. We both are. But I would entreat you, please, not to blame yourself for what is beyond your power to control. Byleth would not hold you responsible for what happened today, nor would Jeralt, nor do I. Your grief will weigh you down more than enough, without adding to it the burden of responsibility. It is a burden that is not yours to shoulder, nor is it anyone else's, save the Archbishop's."
"...Wait, that's right." Leonie had almost forgotten about that. "You said you were going to speak to her, didn't you? Why are you here?"
"I did, and indeed, I will, child. In the here and now, however," she smiled, "I deemed this to be more important."
"So you just left Leonie to wander off in the rain?" Ingrid chided. "Felix, please ."
Felix, having better table manners than interpersonal skills, had the decency to swallow his food before responding. "It's not my problem." That managed to draw a glare from both his dining companions, not that he especially cared. "The professor had it well in hand, anyway."
The mention of the professor triggered something in the Boar. A quirk of the brow, and a deepening of his frown. He was deep in thought about something, and thinking had never been his strong suit. Whatever was on his mind, he'd undoubtedly consult them for their input in three... two...
"...Actually, about the professor..."
Right on schedule.
"Does something about her seem... unusual, to either of you?"
"Unusual in general, or unusual for her?" He could tell Ingrid instinctively wanted to scold him for that one, too, but it was a valid question. Byleth Eisner was not, by anyone's reckoning, a usual sort of person.
"For her," he replied. "She seems more... expressive, somehow, all of a sudden."
Well, that was hardly news, and it was hardly sudden. Felix had seen the change in her demeanor over the course of the past year. It was plain to see that the Black Eagles had stirred something inside her. Even the Boar must have noticed by now. "Is that all? It's not exactly a recent development."
"No," Ingrid chimed in, "this is different. I know what you're getting at, Felix, but this is from this morning to this afternoon."
It was at this point he realized she'd barely touched her fried pheasant. Something was amiss.
She continued, concern audible. "And the look on her face when she came up from the Tomb... I couldn't even describe it."
"I can," Dimitri replied, eyes cast down. "Rage and sorrow, barely contained." No doubt a look he'd seen in the mirror a thousand times. "I can only guess what must have happened down there, but I fear it was something terrible. None of the Black Eagles will speak a word of it."
Well, that didn't exactly add up. If anyone was unaccounted for, word would have spread by now, so clearly they didn't lose anyone. What else could it have possibly been? Something they found? Did the professor actually receive a revelation from the Goddess? One that bade ill, somehow?
"What of Ashe?" Dedue inquired. "Or Sylvain?" The Boar's lapdog had been silent as ever until now. Were he not so massive, one might forget he was there.
"Nothing," Ingrid responded, any differences she had with the man of Duscur seemingly set aside for the time being. This was growing more troubling by the moment. "Sylvain didn't even bother to deflect, like he usually does. He just... walked off. Without a word."
"Whatever it is, apparently they're all sworn to secrecy," Claude said, taking a bite out of an apple.
...Wait, when the hell did Claude get here? "What are you-"
"Most I could get out of Lysithea, anyway," he continued over Felix's objections, pulling up a seat between himself and Ingrid as though it were the most natural place for him to be. "Although, I get the sense none of them would want to talk about it anyway, even if they weren't. Whole mood's just weirdly grim around the whole class. Like they're coming home from a funeral."
"And I suppose," Felix responded, "that in your infinite wisdom, you have some theory as to why that is."
The Deer shrugged. "Oh, I have several theories, none of them particularly likely. One way or another, though," he smirked, that smug, obnoxious smirk of his, "I plan to find out. So, who's in?"
"In other words, you failed."
Metodey's eyebrow twitched. "I'm sorry, who are you again?"
It was, of course, a question he already knew the answer to. Lord Volkhard von Arundel, ruling duke of the Arundel territory, and until recently, regent to the Adrestian Empire, and uncle to Her Majesty. Metodey knew all of this, because he wasn't some clueless, slack-jawed yokel. He knew exactly which self-important blue blood to whom he was speaking.
He simply did not give a shit.
Arundel scowled. It was a look that might have cowed a lesser man on its own. "I believe you know precisely who-"
"What I know," he interrupted, well aware he was, perhaps, enjoying this too much, "is who you are not, 'Lord' Arundel." The sarcasm and disdain particularly dripped from that penultimate word. "You are not Edelgard von Hresvelg, first of her name, reigning emperor of Adrestia, and most importantly, my present employer, and the singular authority to which I answer. Any relevance you may hold means nothing to me, and upon the conclusion of my services, it will mean nothing to anyone."
The raw contempt radiated off Arundel in waves, and Metodey bathed in it as though it were warm spring water. So refreshing.
"You listen to me here and now, you pathetic, arrogant little worm-"
"Arrogant? Quite the charge, coming from someone of your standing."
Neither of them heard the door open over the sound of their little dispute. "Uncle. Lieutenant. Enough."
Both men snapped to attention at the sound of the Emperor's voice, though one more subtly than the other, with Metodey quick to salute the woman in question, shifting into an at-ease posture at Her Majesty's request. "I've apprised your uncle of the situation to the best of my ability, your Majesty, up to the point of our dismissal from the Holy Tomb." All true, of course, but with a lie of omission hanging over it. That being he had stuck around longer than he had informed Lord Arundel, and heard conversations that were not likely meant for his ears.
If he was not mistaken, the Goddess herself now walked these halls, in flesh and blood, and something in his gut urged him that this was not information he should relay to Volkhard von Arundel. Something more than the stink of nobility was off about that man. Metodey was a scoundrel and a rogue, he wouldn't deny it. He reveled in it, if anything. But he was also thorough in his work as a soldier of fortune; he never took a job without researching his clients. Something happened in his background (and for that matter her Majesty's - ten royal siblings suddenly falling ill and dying, all at once, without so much as a national day of mourning? - but he wasn't fool enough to pin that on a girl of eleven), and whatever it was, it was something dark. If the idea wasn't so outlandish, he'd think the man standing to his left was some creature, merely wearing Arundel's skin.
His mind flashed back to the Holy Tomb. That hideous light. The screaming.
The Goddess, emerging in the form of a teacher.
Was it so outlandish as he'd thought a day ago?
"My thanks, Metodey. You are dismissed. My uncle and I have matters of state to discuss."
He nodded. "By your leave, your Majesty."
If she was here, her lapdog, Vestra, couldn't have been far. He cared little for the man, but his loyalty to the Emperor brokered no questions. He needed to relay certain concerns to someone who could be relied on to handle them with the proper care.
Day 2 of the Wyvern Moon. Sunny.
I feel I must take the child and leave. But the Church is always watching us… I don't know what Lady Rhea has planned. I used to think the world of Lady Rhea.
Now, I'm terrified of her.
Not since he'd read those words had they left Seteth's mind. One didn't live to be his age without being able to put two and two together. He knew precisely what Lady Rhea had planned, and it did not sit well with him.
She had tried it before, after all. It was the reason he'd left with Flayn all those years ago. It should not have surprised him that she would make another attempt.
What did you do to that baby, Rhea? Nothing... questionable, I should hope?
Seteth, enough. She will be here shortly. No more, I beg of you.
He knew, deep down, that he should have been more direct. That he should have pushed back harder against this... he hesitated to call any actions Lady Rhea took "madness," but he could think of no more appropriate descriptor. Madness. He hoped that that wasn't where she was headed, but the possibility couldn't be shaken from his mind.
"Brother?"
A voice, much meeker than usual, came from the doorway, where Flayn stood, distress written plain as day on her face. "Flayn?" Immediately, Seteth rose to his feet. "Is something the matter? Did anything happen to you? Please, tell me, are you hur-"
"Peace, brother, I am perfectly fine!" she protested, a statement which did little to calm her overprotective "brother." "Nothing has happened to me," she paused, "though I am afraid that is not to say that nothing is wrong."
He closed his eyes. Deep breath. Inhale... and exhale. Glad as he was that Flayn was well, if something was truly amiss, he needed to be apprised. "...Something happened in the Holy Tomb, didn't it?" A nod.
"It did, although... I fear to say aloud exactly what. I simply wished to warn you, that it is likely the professor will summon us both soon."
...The professor.
But the church is always watching us... I don't know what Lady Rhea has planned.
...but there's no heartbeat. No heartbeat!
Lady Rhea said she died during childbirth. But is that the truth?
Yes, he rather had a feeling she would.
As if on cue, Byleth marched into his office with a purpose. She briefly stopped to give Flayn a nod in greeting, before continuing to his desk with an inscrutable expression. She slammed a torn piece of paper down in front of him, and turned to leave as wordlessly as she came, with a stride that brokered no objections to her departure. Looking down, his eyes widened the instant he was able to discern the note.
"Brother? What does it say?"
It was hastily scrawled, and merely one word, but the message was clear. Written in a script that had died over a millennium ago was a name. His own.
CICHOL
To identify him as the Saint he was could have meant a number of things. To write the name in Nabatean cuneiform, however, had very specific, and potentially very dark, implications.
He turned the note over in his hand, a more explicit, if similarly brief, message written on the reverse side.
Audience chamber. Now.
A/N: Would you believe I forgot I had this fic on this site? Because boy howdy, that's sure what happened! Posted this chapter on AO3 like a month and a half ago. Sorry for the delay, anyone who's reading it here!