A/N: hey hey hey!

I'm back with another chapter (finally) :) On the bright side, I'm officially no longer in school, and that means there's plenty of time to obsess about these two and plenty more time to write, so I expect to be posting a lot more frequently (although you know I shouldn't make any promises LOL). I just watched the Three Hopes trailer and I'm so excited to see my Deer again I can barely stand it... June 24 needs to come faster!

This chapter is mostly plot setup and closely follows the video game, so it's not the most exciting or well-written one ever, but you know I had to add in some angst at the end for my star-crossed lovers! I hope you enjoy it nonetheless, and I promise to bring you one with some lighter moments next time :)

As always, sending you the MOST love.

xo Ever

By the time the morning of the Divine Revelation finally dawns, Byleth has already taken four laps around the entire monastery and there's a cold sweat shining on her brow as she nears the greenhouse, beginning her fifth.

Maybe it's just her, but the sunset seems brighter than usual. Less soft, less soothing, and more… piercing.

The monastery is slowly beginning to rouse, morning church bells ringing gently in the distance as gardeners and chefs and students alike begin to file out of their dormitories to start their day. They all seem so peaceful, each beginning their same monotonous routine, but as Byleth rounds the corner of the Dining Hall, her heart beats erratically, punctuating each ring of the church bell with a horrible jolt of adrenaline through her bloodstream.

She's not sure what it is that makes her so uneasy. This is just a regular ceremony, after all, and with both Seteth and Rhea there, her students will be well protected. So why does she feel like something is terribly, horribly wrong?

"Teach?"

Byleth turns so sharply she almost smacks right into Claude, who holds his hands up in surrender, a lazy grin on his face.

"Woah, careful there, Teach. You alright?" The minute he sees the discontent in Byleth's eyes, his expression sombers, and he frowns at her, holding out a hand in case she needs steadying.

"I'm fine, thank you, Claude." Byleth draws in a deep breath. Goddess above, if she doesn't get herself under control, she'll frighten her students, too. "Just… a bit nervous, is all."

"Our fearless leader? Nervous?" Claude shakes his head, his smile returning slightly. "And I thought I'd seen it all."

"What do you know about this Divine Revelation?" Byleth asks cautiously, unsure of what exactly is secret information in this monastery. "I have to say, Rhea was rather… tight-lipped about it."

"When is she not?" Claude says, laughing at his own half-hearted joke. "But I'm sorry to say I won't be much more help - I know next to nothing about all this church stuff." Byleth's face falls a little, and Claude clearly notices. "Y'know, I bet your Holy Father would know a lot more. Does he know you've been out all night, wandering around like a madman?"

"I haven't talked to him since yesterday," Byleth says forlornly, and it's true: she hasn't had a real talk with Seteth since that night - that night. It's only been swift "hello's", quick touches on the shoulder, brief small talk, and it's been tearing her apart with anxiety. "He's… very busy."

"Mmm, I doubt he's too busy for you." Claude grins at her. "You should've seen the way he was acting at the church service you missed yesterday. He asked pretty much half the school where you were, and when he finally found out you were in a meeting with Hanneman, he practically burst into tears."

"Claude."

"Okay, not tears, but he was halfway there. You can ask Dimitri - he was telling everyone he distinctly heard Seteth sniffle," Claude says, and then he seems to realize what he's said, and his smile wavers. Byleth doesn't let him off for a second.

"Oh, so you're talking to Dimitri again, are you?" Now it's her turn to quirk a smile at Claude, and for a moment, the burden of this damned Revelation feels a little lighter. "What's he been up to?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Claude's cheeks redden slightly, and he shrugs nonchalantly at Byleth. "I'm sure he's been quite well. I wouldn't know much about it."

"Is that so? No late-night rendezvous for you, then?" Byleth can't keep the grin off her face, and Claude rolls his eyes at her.

"I'm afraid not. I've been too busy studying for your class to go on dates, anyway," he jabs, and Byleth just shakes her head. "We can't all be like you, Teach. Not everyone lives such a wild and raucous lifestyle."

"I'll have you know that my lifestyle is quite-"

Byleth is midway through defending her honor when she suddenly feels the cool touch of a slender hand on her shoulder, and the feeling of it is so tender that it's almost disconcerting.

By instinct, she turns, and there stands the ethereal Lady Rhea, her seafoam hair spilling effortlessly across her shoulders as her golden headdress sparkles in the early morning sunlight. She's a vision, and she shines so brightly that it's almost difficult to look at.

"Professor. I am glad to see you awake already. It is almost time." Rhea's hand lingers on Byleth's shoulder, and she has to fight her immediate desire to shake it off. "Ah, Claude. Would you mind gathering the rest of the Golden Deer? The ceremony is nearly ready."

"Of course, Lady Rhea." Claude gives her a slight bow of his head, and shoots Byleth an apologetic look before he takes off, gone as quickly as he came. Byleth can't say she's exactly thrilled to be alone with the archbishop.

"Walk with me, won't you, Professor?" Rhea extends her arm, and Byleth gingerly loops her own through it, reluctantly quickening her pace to keep up with the taller woman. "I sense a slight fear in you, child. Is it the Revelation you worry for?"

"In all honesty, yes, though I'm not sure why," Byleth admits, tightening her grip on Rhea's arm as they ascend the grand staircase towards the cathedral. She might as well be honest with her. Sometimes it feels like Rhea can read her thoughts, anyway. "I think it's just a little… overwhelming."

"I understand. There is no need for apology," Rhea says, her smooth tone accompanied by a lilting laugh. "In fact, I would be far more concerned if you were not worried at all."

There's a few moments of silence as they continue to walk through the monastery, and Byleth assumes they must be drawing closer and closer to the Holy Tomb. Although she wills herself to calm down, to breathe in and out and stop worrying, by the Goddess's sake, she can't shake the awful, unsettling feeling that's settling underneath her skin.

Finally, after what feels like miles, they reach a gilded door, beyond which, Byleth realizes, must lie the way to descend to the depths of the underground below the monastery.

Suddenly, Rhea stops for a moment, her hand resting primly on the doorknob. "Might I ask you a question, Professor? And do let me know if it is too personal."

"Of… of course." Byleth can't help but be slightly worried by this sudden pause, but it's not like she can deny the leader of the Church of Seiros.

"I know that Seteth cares deeply for you. He has made that abundantly clear." Rhea stares at her matter-of-factly, and Byleth can't help but blanch. So it's that kind of talk. "What I'm wondering is quite simple: do you, Professor, feel the same way for him?"

Byleth is too stunned to speak. The embarrassment of having this conversation with a priest, with her boss, for that matter, is too much to bear, and she just stares at Rhea like a gaping fish.

"Ah… my apologies, Professor. Do not feel obligated to answer such an inappropriate question." Rhea's serene smile falters slightly, and if Byleth didn't know better, she'd think the archbishop looks almost uncomfortable. "It seems my curiosity got the better of me."

"No, it's not…" Byleth trails off, sighing in resignation. "I was just… caught off guard." She takes a deep breath, deeply unsure of how to respond. This doesn't feel like the right time for this conversation, but from the way Rhea is looking at her, it seems like she genuinely cares about the answer. "I… I do care for Seteth. Quite deeply."

"I see. Thank you for your honesty." Rhea's expression is unreadable, and for the life of her, Byleth cannot tell if her response pleases the archbishop or not. Regardless, after a brief pause, Rhea turns her wrist sharply and throws the door open, turning back to Byleth once more before she steps forward. "Another question, then. Are you ready, Professor?"

Byleth doesn't think she is, really, but instead of turning right around and taking a sixth lap around the grounds like she truly wants to, she says the only thing she knows Rhea will accept. It's too late to back out now.

With one last look over her shoulder, Byleth steps forward, drawing in a deep breath.

"Yes, Lady Rhea. I'm ready."

"So this is the Holy Tomb, huh?"

Byleth's Deer are gathered in a sort of half-circle around where she and Rhea stand in the center of the massive underground catacomb. The walls and floor are lined with cobblestones that are cast in an eerie emerald light that spills across rows and rows of covered caskets and stone tombs. And, at the front of it all, sits a large stone throne that Byleth has seen before, but only in dreams. Sothis. This… this place…

"No, Raphael, it's the kitchens. Can't you tell?" Lysithea rolls her eyes indignantly, elbowing Raphael in the side for his oblivious comment.

"Can't you two try to have a little decorum?" Lorenz, to his credit, stares at the two bickering Deer like they're something he found under his shoe, wrinkling his nose at their lack of propriety. "We are in the final resting place of the Goddess, for Seiros's sake."

"She looks so nervous," Marianne mumbles, and Byleth doesn't dare turn to meet her students' eyes. Doesn't dare let any more of them see the inexplicable fear in her eyes. "Hil, doesn't she look nervous?"

"I'll say. Someone get Seteth in here, stat. Flayn, any news?" Hilda's brash voice travels through the tomb like an alarm bell, and Byleth tenses slightly at the sound of it. The Deer never know how to lower their volume, do they?

"Oh, I wish he'd get here quickly! She's almost as green as her hair." Byleth can hear Flayn stamping her feet anxiously, and she can't take it any longer.

"I'm fine, everyone, please," she says, turning around and extending a hand to her students. "And I'm standing three feet away, so I can also hear every word you're saying."

"Definitely nervous, Mari. Definitely nervous," Hilda whispers exaggeratedly to Marianne, who shakes her head solemnly.

"So long… I have waited so very long for this day."

Suddenly, the room's attention shifts to Rhea, who stands before the great stone throne, one hand delicately tracing its stone outline. Byleth gives one last warning look to her students before walking to her side, staring up at the massive stone slab before her. With every step closer to it, her blood seems to thrum a little quicker in her veins, her heartbeat gradually picking up its steady pace. Where the hell is Seteth?

"I think… I think I've seen this before," Byleth says awkwardly, and when Rhea looks over at her, she's shocked to see there are tears shining in the archbishop's eyes.

"Indeed, you have," Rhea whispers, as if she's already seen into Byleth's very mind. "Sit upon the throne, Professor. I have no doubt you will be gifted a revelation from the Goddess herself."

Byleth draws in a deep breath, every sense in her body heightened tenfold. She can't do this. Can she?

In one last act of desperation, she turns once more, searching for Seteth. Her heart drops to her feet when she cannot find him.

"Do not be afraid, my child. Go, now." Rhea puts a hand on her back and gently guides her forward, and before she knows it, Byleth is drawing closer to the throne. One step. Two steps. Three.

Gingerly, she stands before it, facing both her students and the Knights of Seiros, who have accompanied them for the ceremony. Most prominently, she faces Rhea, who watches her with hawk-like intensity, and with a deep breath, Byleth lowers herself onto the throne, letting her eyes flutter closed. Though she tries to keep her mind blank, she can't help but conjure up Sothis's face. She can't help but miss Sothis's face, and although that inexplicable fear tenses each and every muscle in her body, she can't help but wish to see her once-constant companion, if only for a moment. Shutting her eyes tighter, she stops breathing the minute her body touches the stone, and waits…

And nothing happens.

Byleth opens her eyes, looking around frantically. Has she done something wrong? Has she somehow upset the ceremony? Against her will, her eyes meet Rhea's, who has suddenly lost her serenity and instead looks quite disturbed.

"I don't understand… it was supposed to be just a step away," Rhea says breathlessly, shaking her head. "What could possibly be missing?"

"Oh, I think you'll be missing a lot more than a vision when we're through with this place."

As if on cue, a cruel laugh echoes through the chamber, and Byleth jumps off the throne as if she's been burned by the stone beneath her. In front of her, just a few paces behind her students, stands a group of enemies that have haunted her every thought since she first saw them, all those battles ago.

None other than the Flame Emperor stands before her, flanked by a whole force of Imperial soldiers clad in crimson red. At their side, a scrawny, brown-haired Commander throws his head back in a bout of laughter, as if this is the funniest thing he's ever seen. Byleth can't think of a moment less humorous than this one.

And that's when she sees him - his stern mouth twisted into an awful grimace, a knife pressed to his throat from where a smirking Imperial soldier has grabbed him, green hair plastered against his forehead.

Seteth.

"Seteth!" Byleth cannot hold the scream back, and it takes everything in her to remain rooted in place, to keep from extending her sword and tearing his captors apart one by one.

When he looks at her - oh, when he looks at her - his eyes are full of pain, and wordlessly, she watches him nod towards Flayn, towards her Deer, and Byleth curses herself for forgetting her students, even in spite of all this chaos. This can't be happening. This cannot be happening.

Immediately, she moves to Claude's side, unsheathing her blade and drawing close to him, her gaze trained on Seteth all the while. He can take care of himself, she knows that, but the sight of that blade so close to his neck makes every hair on her body stand on end. She wants to tear each officer in this room limb from limb.

"Ah, apologies, Professor, but it appears the mechanism to the Tomb can only be opened by members of this Church," the brown-haired Commander drawls, a sickly grin on his face. "We needed a little help from your friend here."

"What do they want?" Byleth cannot bear to speak to the Imperial soldiers, not when one's knife threatens to steal Seteth's last breaths from his body. Instead, she whispers frantically to Claude, who merely shakes his head incredulously.

"I knew something was off about this." He draws his bow, notching an arrow with expert dexterity. "There's only one goal for grave robbers like these. The Empire is here to steal the treasure that rests within the Holy Tomb."

"So they followed us here? The Imperial Army and the Flame Emperor are allied?" Leonie stares at their challengers incredulously, and Byleth wants to smack herself in the face.

Always trust your instincts, wasn't that Jeralt's number one rule of being a mercenary? And yet, here she is, cornered underground with her students in tow, practically having led the whole damned Church of Seiros into a rat trap.

Seteth, is all her one-track mind can scream at her. Seteth.

She doesn't look at him. She knows if she does she will fall apart.

"Ah, for a fool, you catch on quickly, von Riegan." The Flame Emperor scoffs, their booming voice echoing off the stone walls, and they a step closer to Byleth and the Golden Deer. "The Crest Stones will be ours. That infernal power, which is masquerading as a medicine but is truly a poison, will plague this world no longer!"

"Insolence."

Rhea's voice rings out like a shot, and Byleth turns, stunned, to watch her glide towards the middle of the tomb that is about to become a battlefield, her arms extended like some kind of twisted angel. In a way, Byleth supposes, that's what she is.

"You will atone for the sin of trampling on this holy resting place." In a fiery rage, Rhea turns to Byleth, one finger pointed accusingly at her. "Professor, destroy these villainous traitors who dare dishonor our creator!"

Byleth has never seen such anger in Rhea's eyes, and all she can do is nod, snapping into action without a second thought. With a flash, she extends the Sword of the Creator in front of her, casting the Deer in a golden glow as she faces her opponents.

"Professor." Flayn draws close to her side, sparks of magic beginning to exude from her fingertips, and Byleth curses herself for forgetting to check on her. If she's feeling like her heart might shatter at any minute, how might Seteth's own sister feel?

"I won't let any harm come to him, Flayn, I swear it." Byleth's hands shake where she clutches her blade, and her heart is beating so fast that it feels like it might burst straight out of her chest at any minute. "I swear it."

"I know, Professor. It is not my brother I worry for." Gently, Flayn touches her shaking hands, and just across the floor, the Imperial soldiers begin to disband, pouring like ants out of a hill towards the crypts that house those damned, invaluable Crest Stones. "Please be careful. Do not lose your cool because of my Brother's predicament. He could not - and I could not - bear to lose you."

The words are so serious, so uncharacteristically wise, that they strike right through Byleth's heart, and she pauses, staring down at Flayn's earnest face.

"I… You're right, Flayn, of course you're right. Thank you." Byleth draws in a deep breath and slowly turns to where her students fan out across the tomb, clashing blades and screams beginning to echo throughout the underground room. At the front of it all stands that damn Commander, and she watches helplessly as just next to him, Seteth wrestles with the soldier that holds him captive, his throat coming dangerously close to the sharp blade in front of it. "Be safe, Flayn. Remember what I've taught you."

With a resolute nod, Flayn joins the rest of the Deer, and Byleth is off like a shot, tearing across the cobblestone floor towards Seteth, her mind consumed by one thought and one thought only: keep him safe. Flayn is right, as usual - she needs to keep her head, especially in battle, and Seteth is constantly making her lose it.

"What is it about this stuffy priest that's so important to you?" The Commander grunts as he blocks one of Ignatz's stray arrows, his teeth gritted. "I'm told it's fine to kill those who resist, you know. Tell me - how shall I cook you?"

"That stuffy priest is about to skewer your general," Byleth says, and she's right - to her crushing relief, just beside him, Seteth has finally wrestled his way out of his captor's grip, and with a horrible crunch, he stabs the man right between the ribs with his own knife, sending him falling onto the stones below. "And now, I'm going to skewer you."

For the first time, the Commander's face turns an awful shade of green, and his horrible grin falls off his face at the sight of Byleth's sword in all its glory, shining in the dim light like some kind of twisted, fiery torch.

"No… you don't understand, I just follow the orders. I'm not… Wait!" He starts, blindly swinging his blade at her, but Byleth knocks it out of his grip with a well-placed strike of her sword, her mind as blank as a sheet of parchment but for a single scratch of blood.

"Perhaps, if I were not who I am, I would've let you live," she says softly, and her thoughts are stiflingly silent as she takes a menacing step closer to the cowering man, "but I am no priest, and you have committed a sin I cannot forgive."

"Please, have mercy, I don't-"

With one quick sweep of the Sword of the Creator, Byleth tears the man's head from his shoulders before he can utter another word.

It's a horrible, brutal death, but she can't seem to care. It feels like chasing Monica - Kronya - did, like the lust for revenge has overtaken all of her senses, and she just stands there, panting, feeling awfully, utterly blank.

"Damn, Teach. In front of your man and everything?" Claude's voice crows above the roar of battle, tearing Byleth away from the scene of her crime, and she turns to him, frowning.

"Trust me, I… do not mind."

Seteth's voice is her anchor, and Byleth clings to it like a lifeline as she turns to him, her gaze softening, the bloodlust lining her every thought beginning to fade just a little.

"I'm terribly sorry I was late. I know I promised I would be here, but I… was met with some rather inconvenient trouble. " Seteth bends down awkwardly to clean his stolen blade on the dead body beneath him, looking utterly disgusted all the while, and Byleth just shakes her head at him, a smile playing on her lips in spite of everything. He's safe, and the relief of that realization calms her just a little.

"Well, you seemed a little preoccupied," she begins, hoping he's not too put off by the bloody display she's just performed, but then she's rushed by a Crest Stone-carrying solider, and she has to side-step him slightly in order to stab him, sinking her blade into his chest almost effortlessly. "In any case, nothing happened. It seems I have not been blessed with a Divine Revelation after all."

"Well, one cannot have everything, can they?" Seteth says matter-of-factly, and he steps behind Byleth just in time to spear an approaching enemy that would have at least gotten a scratch on her if he hadn't stepped in, his lance flashing in the fiery light of Byleth's own sword. "I must say, the way you use that blade is… effervescent."

"Flattery? At a time like this?" Byleth turns and finishes off Seteth's enemy, tossing his limp body aside once she's finished. "Who are you and what have you done with Seteth?"

"Forgive me. I've just been threatened with a knife, and I think it's jumbled quite a few of my thoughts."

Together, the two of them finish off the rest of the soldiers in their corner of the room, and Byleth turns towards the center, where the Flame Emperor stands in all of their crimson glory. Even from behind their mask, she can tell they're growing more and more impatient by the minute.

Almost subconsciously, Byleth checks on each and every one of her students as she slashes past enemy after enemy, making sure they're each safe, accounted for, and most importantly, using the proper technique she's been sure to drill into them. They are missing a day of class for this ceremony, after all - perhaps she should grade them on this fight.

"Stand aside."

Before she knows it, Byleth has reached the Flame Emperor, and she immediately abandons her grading idea, her brow furrowing in concentration as she stares down the menacing figure before her, staring into the endless crimson of their almost robotic eyes.

So this is it, then. The confrontation that's been many battles in the making.

"What is your plan, when all of this is through?" Byleth feels the anger slowly begin to rise within her once again, the memories of all she's lost, all she's been through quietly stirring her blood beneath her skin. "The Crest Stones? Flayn's blood? What is it all for?"

"Stand aside. Damn, you were…" The distorted voice behind the mask slowly trails off, and something seems to shift within its tone. Byleth can't help but pause. Who lies behind that cold metal? "You were the one person I did not wish to make an enemy of."

"Well, I'm afraid you did," Byleth hisses through gritted teeth, and then they're off: axe against blade, bone against metal, shrouded in a sea of glowing sparks as their weapons clash against each other.

The Flame Emperor is highly skilled, and Byleth has to dig her heels into the cobblestones to keep from sliding backwards as they advance forward, their axe narrowly missing her multiple times. Their stance is impeccable, Byleth notes, their technique so thoughtful it almost matches her own. If she didn't know any better, she'd think this was someone who knew the ways of the Officers Academy. The ways of Byleth's own teaching.

"Why are you so enamored with Garreg Mach?" Byleth jabs her blade forward, narrowly missing the Flame Emperor's side, and they hiss in surprise. She doesn't understand it. How can they be everywhere and nowhere all at once, and why do their paths seem fated to keep crossing?

"Stand aside," is all they say, but the second their gaze meets Byleth's, they pause- and that's enough. In a flash, Byleth whirls around in almost a full circle, her sword extending and snapping to its full length as it smashes into the Flame Emperor's armor, catching them by surprise and sending them plummeting to the ground, their axe falling from their hands with an ominous clang that echoes through the Tomb.

Before they can get back up, Byleth is on them, her knee pressing down hard on their armor-clad stomach, and she feels the battle lull around her, each side watching intently as their leaders decide the outcome of this fight on the ground before them.

"I asked you a question," Byleth says, her tone bitterly cold, and she can stand it no longer: hooking her fingers around the edges of the Flame Emperor's mask, she tears it from their face, casting it aside without a second glance, and…

What?

Byleth freezes, her hand hovering inches from the pale, now-uncovered face of the Flame Emperor. This… This can't be right. This can't be real.

Behind the mask, the mask of the murderous mastermind that's plauged the lives of Byleth and her students for so many months, lies… Edelgard?

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" In a flash, Claude, Seteth, and Rhea have joined her side, all three of them converging on Edelgard, vying for a closer look at who lies before them, and Claude pales the minute his eyes fall on the face of someone Byleth knows he once considered a friend. The pain in his eyes is enough to make Byleth's heart sink. "I don't… I don't understand."

"Enough!"

Edelgard takes advantage of Byleth's surprise and pushes her to the side, scrambling to her feet and backing up into the shadows.

"I have achieved my objective," she says, her tone breathless and frantic, and somehow, she looks frightened, even behind all that armor. "I will retreat."

"Edelgard…" Rhea shakes her head slowly, and Byleth frowns at her expression. It's not surprise, really, so much as it is utter distaste, as if Edelgard is any common criminal off the street. As if Edelgard was - is - not a well-respected and treasured student of this very monastery. "You have disappointed me. To think that a descendant of House Hresvelg would dare betray the holy church…"

"You know so little, Rhea." With a scoff, Edelgard just shakes her head, and suddenly, Hubert is at her side, clutching her arm to keep her standing upright. As they shuffle backwards further into the darkness, Edelgard's gaze snaps to Byleth, who just stares at her incredulously. "Farewell, Professor. If we meet again… It will be on the battlefield."

"Wait!" Byleth steps forward, holds out a hand, but of course, it's as good for nothing, and in a flash, she and Hubert seem to materialize away, disappearing into thin air as their warp spell carries them far beyond the monastery grounds.

"To flee is futile, wicked girl," Rhea steps forward to Byleth's side, and Byleth is shocked to see the archbishop actually shaking with rage, a bloodthirsty anger in her eyes that unnerves Byleth to her core.

"Hear me, Professor." Suddenly, Rhea turns to Byleth, her gaze full to the brim with fiery hatred. "The Church of Seiros will raise its entire army against this villain until she has been captured and punished. Her crime will never be erased, even if she burns in the eternal flames, and spills all of her blood into the goddess's soil."

Byleth can't find the words to respond, and so she just stands there, staring out ahead of her as if she's been frozen in place. It was all so… fast, and the reality of all that's just happened hits her in a dizzying sort of blur.

All around her, Imperial soldiers begin to warp away themselves, Crest Stones and weapons abandoned in their hurry to escape. Byleth wishes the bodies of their fallen comrades would warp away as well. How many of them were someone's student, too?

Seteth. Flayn. Edelgard. Claude.

Faces flash through Byleth's mind, and she turns to face her Deer, taking in each and every shocked, disheartened face. This can't be real. Can it?

For months, Byleth has sparred with Edelgard, has exchanged cold words with Hubert, has laughed with the rest of her charming Black Eagles, and through it all, they were planning this? Whatever has just happened, it can only mean further conflict between the Church and the Adrestian Empire, and Byleth is not sure she wants to get mixed up in.

"Byleth."

That lifeline of a voice tears her from her thoughts, and she realizes that Claude has begun to clear the Deer from the room, shooting her cautious glances as he trails behind a furious Rhea back to the upper level.

She turns, and without a word, throws her arms around Seteth's neck and pulls him close. He smells like pine-wood and crumpled parchment, and she buries her face in the shoulder of his uniform, trying to breathe him in as best she can. It's an embarrassing display for a bloodthirsty mercenary, but she'd be lying if she said she cared.

"I know," Seteth says, as if he can read her thoughts, and she feels him pull her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and rubbing her back, his touch so gentle it nearly brings tears to her eyes. "Just breathe."

And Byleth does. She breathes deep, draws strength from the wonder of a man who breathes himself just beneath her fingertips, and slowly, her thoughts become clearer, her mind sharper, and she slowly sets her feet back on the earth.

"I can't understand it, she was just… We were just sparring the other day, Seteth, Edelgard and I, and…" Byleth can't seem to say what she means, and she pulls slightly away from Seteth so she can face him, her hands still wrapped around his forearms. She can't quite fully let him go, even now. "I just can't comprehend it."

"I sense that Edelgard has been plotting this for a while now, Byleth. None of us could have stopped this, let alone have predicted it." Seteth sighs, slowly, his gaze locked on her own.

"Does this mean war, Seteth?" Byleth can't hold back the one question she truly wants an answer to, and his expression falls the minute she says it, waves of some unreadable emotion washing over his face.

"An hour ago, I would have told you that war was nothing more than a distant star on the horizon, but considering what has transpired here today… I am not sure that we can rule it out." He shakes his head, looking more tired than usual. It twists something in Byleth's heart, and though she tries to forget it, all she can think about is that damned Commander's knife inches away from Seteth's throat.

You are my reason, Seteth. You are my reason to fight, to remember and to move on.

"I knew it. It was like I could feel it before we arrived, like… like something terrible was about to happen." Byleth runs a hand through her hair, her mind racing. "Goddess above, I want no part in a war, not with all that's happened already. Not with all whom I have already lost."

She's never been good with emotions, but today is something else, some nameless jumble of feelings that Byleth doesn't believe even the most gifted therapist could untangle.

There's anger, of course, for the many lives that have been stolen at the hands of the Flame Emperor. There's sadness, for the loss of the only family she's ever known. And then, something else: something cold and bitter that feels like it might break Byleth's heart in two, something she does not think she will ever quite shake off, not after today.

"You do not have to stay here, you know."

"What?" Byleth's attention snaps back to Seteth the minute she processes his words. "Surely you don't assume I would abandon my students. Abandon you."

"Of course not," he says, pursing his lips, "and that is why I must say this. You are fiercely loyal, Byleth, and if war is what this truly comes to, I don't want you risking your life for a cause that you do not truly and wholly believe in."

"Seteth-"

"Please do not interpret this as me asking you to leave. That is the last thing in this world that I want, but I know that you will not abandon a task that you have started, that is just your way, and I could not bear to watch you in danger - to watch you put yourself in danger for others' sake - in a battle that was not yours to fight in the first place." Seteth's gaze is wild, and it's clear this is something he's been holding back since the first rumors of war began to swirl around the monastery. "Before you became embroiled in the Church's affairs, you had a life, and I would hate for you to-"

"Seteth." Byleth cannot entertain this kind of talk any longer, and before she can talk herself out of it, she wraps her arms around Seteth's neck and kisses him, silencing his tirade with a touch of her lips. The minute she does so, she feels him melt into her, feels him pull her closer, and she breathes him in again, taking a minute before finally pulling away. "I'm not leaving."

"But you-"

"I'm not leaving. I don't want to hear any more about it." Byleth stares Seteth down as resolutely as she can, and though she does her best to sound determined, a part of her is still trying to convince herself as much as convince Seteth. "I may not believe in everything about the Church of Seiros, but I believe in you." She slides her hands down to his shoulders, willing herself to sound as sure as possible. "And it's enough that I would fight a hundred wars by your side, if it meant that at the end of it all, you'd be safe. If it meant that my students would be safe. I… care about the people here. Deeply. I would die rather than abandon them at a time of need."

"Byleth…" Seteth stares at her, his eyes wide with what looks like surprise, and Byleth's face feels hot, her breath short. Everything she's said is true, she realizes, and it shocks to her core. Garreg Mach, once a cold, desolate building, is her world now, and its inhabitants mean far too much for her to give them up now.

"As for a life outside of the monastery, well… There is no longer anyone waiting for me, back there." The words make her want to cry, inexplicably, and she has to dig her fingernails into her palm to keep her voice level. "And I am not sure that it would be much of a life, anyway. Not without you in it."

"Byleth Eisner…" Seteth just stares at her, and the look in his eyes is one of such adoration that it makes her want to cry all over again. "I do believe you are the fiercest person I have ever met."

"Is that a compliment?" In spite of everything, Byleth smiles. How does Seteth always manage to hit her with such sweet words when she least expects it?

"I'm merely… astonished by you, again and again and again." Seteth shakes his head incredulously, and she has to fight the desire to blush under his intense gaze. "I cannot believe there was ever a time in which I detested you."

Byleth cannot help but laugh at this, memories of cold stares and bitter words flooding back to her as if they were little more than a dream. In truth, she too can barely remember the days in which the two of them avoided each other at all costs, in which they met only on the battlefield or at required Church meetings. Or, she supposes, in secluded graveyards in the middle of the night.

"You're still my reason to fight, Seteth. Don't ever forget it." Byleth rises to her tiptoes once again and presses her forehead to Seteth's, breathing in that pine-and-parchment scent she's grown to gravitate to like a moth to a flame.

"And you are mine, Byleth. Always, you are mine," she feels him whisper against her hair, and in the emerald light of the Holy Tomb, surrounded by death and destruction and the bitter taste of war in the air, Byleth has never felt more secure.

She is his, this she is sure of. No matter what the future brings, she is his. War or not, not even Hell itself could drag her away from this place. Away from him.

And you are mine, Byleth. Always, you are mine.