The sword dropped from her hands, hitting the floor before Lonato's head.
Arms were around her. They were familiar. Her father's.
"Jeralt," Rhea said, audible only to them with the roar of the crowd. A roar of approval.
"My daughter is tired from her long ride," he growled. Byleth felt herself moving, her legs automatically following her father's lead.
Whatever Rhea's response was, it was lost to the mob as Jeralt didn't waste time. He kept her face hidden, blocking any chance of seeing her bloody handiwork.
She didn't know how long it took to get to her room, but she recognized her bed when her father set her down on it. The door closed and Jeralt knelt in front of her, grabbing her hands with his.
"By?" he whispered.
"I'm fine, dad," she muttered.
He shook his head. "Don't give me that, kiddo. Talk to me."
What was she feeling? What wasn't she? Sick, that was there. Something cold and dreadful settled in her stomach and made her want to vomit. "I was afraid," she breathed. "When Rhea turned to me, with all those eyes on me…"
Jeralt pulled her into an embrace. "You did what you had to do, Byleth."
"I shouldn't have," she said, letting her father hold her.
Her father pulled back and met her gaze. "No, Rhea shouldn't have asked you to do that. Asking you in front of all her followers like that was the same as holding a sword to your throat."
"I was worried what she'd do to you."
Jeralt's eyes darkened. "She ought to be worried about what I'll do to her." He bit back his anger. "Byleth, there are reasons that Rhea is so interested in you. The kind that are dangerous for you to know with her around. In fact, maybe it'd be safer if she weren't around us."
Byleth looked up, a question on her lips.
Her father's hands gripped hers again. "By, we can leave. Just the two of us, like the old days. We don't have to stay here and be pawns in that woman's games."
She shook her head. "I have students."
A glimmer of a smirk appeared on his wrinkled face. "Huh, never thought those brats would become important to you."
"I want to know why Rhea is interested in me," Byleth said.
He stood up and sat down beside her. "You deserve to know that. But that's a conversation we can't have at Garreg Mach. Too many ears here."
Byleth nodded, defeated.
"There are reasons that woman is interested in both of us. None of them are good. She wants me around here as much as she wants you." His eyes closed. "I left here vowing never to return. Especially not with you."
"It's okay," Byleth said, reaching out to hug him. "As long as we're together, daddy. We'll be okay."
He returned the hug and Byleth saw him try to hold back tears.
"Kiddo, you've got so much of your mother in you. Sitri would be proud of you," he said. "I'm gonna go, I'm going to need to head off Rhea from seeing you. I'm not letting her near you for now. You sure you're gonna be alright?"
Byleth nodded. "She scares me."
Jeralt smirked. "Suspicious like your old man. You hold onto that paranoia, it'll keep you alive. I'll come check on you later, once things settle down."
He stood up and walked to the door closing it behind him. Through the door, she could hear a conversation.
"Beat it, kid. The last thing she needs is a bunch of brats hounding her."
"She's our Teach, we just want to make sure she's okay."
"She'll be okay. Leave her alone, she needs time. You'll only make things worse."
Byleth ignored the rest of the conversation, crawling into bed. She still had her riding gear on and there was blood from Lonato on them. It would get on the sheets.
She didn't care. All she saw was Lonato, looking up at her with something akin to surprise.
You're not like the others. That was what he'd said to her. Why?
You fool! Because you aren't some dog kneeling at the feet of their master!
But I killed him, she thought. I followed orders. And she barely hesitated.
That woman commanded you in front of a legion of her followers. She riled up a mob, what were you supposed to do? The man was old, but he wasn't dumb.
Was that all Byleth was to Rhea? Someone to control? What was she trying to say by making her execute Lonato?
I shan't pretend to have an answer. That woman is dangerous. It is best that we avoid her.
"Are you…" Byleth felt silly for speaking aloud to the voice in her head. "Are you really Sothis? Like the Sothis Mercedes called the Goddess?"
There was silence for a long time.
I do not know. I haven't much in terms of memory. I know I am Sothis…but I do not know who Sothis is.
The maybe-Goddess fell silent and Byleth didn't try to prod her for more. Sleep nibbled at her, begging Byleth to succumb.
As she did, all she saw was Lonato with a smile, standing alongside what she assumed was his family. They looked happy.
Claude had shushed them all as they had began to talk on the way back. After Jeralt had stopped them from checking on their teacher, their house leader had ushered them to his room.
"We cannot speak about this unless we're in private," he'd muttered.
Marianne hadn't been saying anything. What did she have to add? Lonato had turned against the Church, was it not righteous for the unholy to go unpunished?
But she still heard Ashe's screams in her ears.
Perhaps Marianne was mistaken. Anything that made someone scream like that couldn't be right. Could it?
After they all filed into his room, Claude closed the door and locked it. He pressed an ear against the door, as if he'd hear someone following them.
He turned to his Deer, face grim. "We need to discuss this, and none of it can leave this room."
Marianne wrapped her arms around herself. She didn't know what to think anymore. Faith was supposed to be detached from this sort of thing. It was a relationship between one person and the Goddess.
No one spoke. They all looked at each other, waiting for someone to break the silence.
"That was wrong."
All eyes turned to who spoke. Hilda.
She continued. "Asking the professor to do that. She shouldn't have. That's not her job."
"Then why didn't she refuse?" Leonie argued. "She killed Ashe's father!"
Claude opened his mouth to respond, but it was Lorenz who spoke. "Professor Byleth was just asked in front of a crowd of thousands to kill a man. The Archbishop herself asked with the full weight of her position. Could you refuse that, Leonie?"
"Lorenz is right," Claude added. "I certainly didn't want Lonato dead, but you can't blame Teach for it."
"But you saw Ashe," Leonie whispered. She raised her hands as if they could say more about it, but flailed helplessly. "The way he screamed."
"Do you blame the headsman for carrying out a lord's orders?" Lorenz asked, though he didn't look as carefree as his question made him seem.
Ignatz took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I can't imagine that the other students will take this well."
Marianne agreed. As they'd left, she'd seen the way the Lions had looked to their professor. Most were displeased. Though that felt like an understatement. Marianne didn't want to think about it.
"They won't," Claude said. "And if we defend her, they'll pass judgement on us as well."
"Are you saying we don't defend her?" Raphael asked, glaring at Claude.
Their house leader smirked. "On the contrary. I say we stick up for her. She's our teacher, she's looked out for us. I'm not about to turn my back on her when she needs us." Claude looked over the six people arrayed before him. Marianne thought he looked like a king looking across his subjects. "But we can't do that as we are now. We need to come together as a house."
"We are a house, dummy," Hilda snorted.
Claude shook his head. "No, we're a group of students in a classroom. I call us the herd, but a herd looks out for each other. That includes our teacher. The next few weeks are probably going to come with challenges because of this, but we can't face them unless we unite."
"You've spread this word around a lot since we arrived here, Claude," Lorenz challenged. "I would ask that you explain what you mean, right here, right now."
The leader of the Golden Deer nodded absently. "What I mean? What I mean, Lorenz, is that we come from a land known for both unity and fracture. We may be united as Leicester, but that land is a bunch of bickering children trying to get their own way. I don't see that as the Leicester I wish to create.
"I see people like Lonato, beaten down by those more powerful. Or his son, reduced to a scapegoat. Was he even fairly tried if the Church went to lengths to cover it up? I see our own teacher, forced against her will to kill someone of great character and make enemies at the behest of those stronger.
"I want to break that world. I want to build a world where no one is judged for who they are or where they come from. I want to change the world so that the next Lonato can find peace, not killed in front of a mob. I refuse to see Leicester, the Church, anywhere, continue to trample those that Fódlan deems less important than the mighty."
He turned away from Lorenz to face the rest of the Deer. "What I want is your loyalty. Help me build this world. We have nobles and commoners alike in this room. Why, three heirs to the Roundtable and a daughter of Goneril. We have the sons of merchants and a woman loved by her village so much they sent her to the academy for a better life. This academy doesn't take in just anyone. It takes the bold, the driven and those who will succeed. So I ask, no, I beg, give me your loyalty and I'll give you mine."
Claude smiled and raised his hands like a king to his subjects. "Help me build this. Help me realize this dream. Let's work together and change the world."
There was quiet. He turned to Hilda.
Hilda stood. "Ugh, making me go first? Fine. Claude, you're my best friend. You don't have to ask for loyalty."
Raphael stood slowly. "I like your dream, Claude."
The house leader looked up to meet Raphael's gaze. "Help me make it reality."
The biggest Deer nodded, standing next to Hilda.
"Ah, well, I don't know what use you have for me," Ignatz said, beginning to stand. "But if you'll have me, Claude?"
Riegan's heir rested a hand on Ignatz's shoulder. "You sell yourself short. I would rather no one else at my side."
Leonie jumped up. "Claude, I don't want you to think I doubted the professor or anything, I just…"
"It's hard," he said, nodding, understanding. "What we saw, there's no easy way to explain it or reconcile with it."
She nodded. "I'll help you, Claude. I don't want to ever have to see that again."
Eyes turned to the last sitting Deer. Lorenz stood stepping over in front of Claude. "You talk of quite the world, Claude. In fact, some would call these words treason."
"It was the treason of our forefathers that built Leicester," Claude said with a smirk. "C'mon, Lorenz. What say we cause a little trouble?"
Lorenz snorted. "Someone is going to have to make sure you don't go blind with ambition. You'll need me to take over once you slip up."
"That I will, Lorenz." There wasn't malice in the statement. It was an olive branch. Claude reached out a hand. Lorenz hesitated, then shook it.
"Marianne?" Hilda called.
I want to build a world where no one is judged for who they are, he had said.
Deep inside Marianne, a spark of hope flickered to life. It had been cold there for so long. Hints of warmth filled her torso. For the first time in Goddess knew how long, Marianne felt excited by something.
She stood. "I would like to help, Claude."
Claude laughed. "You all had me so nervous! Standing up one at a time, so dramatic!"
Hilda elbowed him and Lorenz groaned. The rest of the Deer laughed and some of the tension vanished.
"I vow," Claude began. "I vow to make this a reality. I'll need everyone's help. Teach's too. We're the Golden Deer, and we're going to look out for each other and make sure we can achieve this dream."
"I never would have expected you to be the idealist of the house leaders," Ignatz admitted, face flushing a tinge of red. Heads around him nodded, including Marianne's.
"Idealists make it far in life." Claude shrugged with a smile. "Everyone who sees the world for how it is, they give up on change. It's the ones who see it for something better that keep going. And I'm not ready to stop seeing that better future."
Mercedes was one to take pride in being a comforting presence. Growing up in a church meant she saw her fair share of people in pain. Many only came to the Goddess when they desperately needed help, hoping they'd grant their desires.
She used to look down on those people. But like fine wine, time aided her. Faith wasn't so black and white. Everyone had their own ways of showing they cared.
So Mercedes took it upon herself to offer words of comfort to those in need. Sometimes people just needed to see someone care or share a prayer.
But Ashe didn't need that.
The head of her faith had just executed his adoptive father. Mercedes had never known her birth father. When she'd learned about Lonato from Ashe when they met, she'd been jealous. Every father she had that she could remember was an ill tinged memory or worse.
Her first instinct had been to comfort Ashe. But she'd stopped. What did she have to offer the boy? To sit there and tell him she understood?
She didn't. Couldn't.
"Mercie?" Annette asked, touching her hand. "You haven't touched your food."
Blinking, Mercedes looked down. So she hadn't.
The dining hall was almost entirely empty. Felix sat on the other side, looking to be in one of his moods. And without Sylvain at his side, that meant he was still with Ashe.
Sylvain, Mercedes found herself realizing, wasn't a bad man. Oh, he was a scoundrel, but like all people, there was more to him. Perhaps she'd judged him unfairly.
"Mercie?"
"Oh, sorry, Annie," she apologized. "I just have a lot on my mind."
"With Ashe?" she asked, gently.
Mercedes poked at the honey glazed meat. It smelled delicious, but tasted ashy when she took a bite. "That, among other things."
Annette looked at her, waiting for her to go on.
"Oh, Annie, you don't want to hear me ramble about my troubles," Mercedes said, trying to backtrack. Talking about it was the last thing she wanted.
Her best friend shook her head. "You spend so much time listening to everyone, mostly me! It's time someone returned the favor."
Ah, that was the crux of the whole thing, wasn't it? It was easy to ignore your own problems when you could focus on someone else's.
"I'm not sure what I'm doing here," Mercedes admitted. As soon as she said that, the words spilled out uncontrollably. "I'm at this academy at my father's hope that I'll fall in love with a rich man. I'm a part of a house that I feel an outsider in and I'm starting to think I'll never fit in. I just watched a friend's father get executed by someone I can't understand my feelings for. I can't even comfort that same friend I have here because the head of my faith ordered his father's murder. And to top it off, both Claude and Edelgard have approached me, asking for me to transfer to their house." Her eyes grew watery, but she would not cry. Her silverware clattered to the table as she raised a hand to hide her eyes before Annette noticed. "Annie, I just don't know what to do."
When Annette balked at the onslaught of words, Mercedes laughed. She felt dreadful about it, but her stress was reaching an all-time high.
Annette hugged her. Mercedes wrapped an arm around her best friend.
"Can I be selfish, Mercie?" she asked. There was a whimper in her voice.
Mercedes nodded.
"Are you going to transfer houses?"
"Edelgard told me that if I joined the Eagles, she'd attempt to restore the Martritz name and house. I don't have any interest in that." Maybe she once would have, when she'd seen less of the world. Now, the idea felt ridiculous to even think about. The world needed other things, not another noble family.
"And Claude?"
"His offer is enticing," she said honestly. An offer to protect Fódlan. An offer to make the world somewhere better. Is that not what her faith preached? What waited for her back in Faerghus, her father to sell her off like a prize goat? Her church was there, but if she could do more…
She had no desire for authority. But did the Goddess want her to? Did Sothis see Mercedes as someone who ought to wield power?
A not so small part of her wanted to run away from her father. To leave him behind and not deal with any of his greed. To whisk her mother away to somewhere safer.
I want change, he'd said. Initially, she'd wondered from what.
But his expression during the execution. The way he practically ran out of the cathedral after his teacher. Those were not the markings of a bad man. That man did not seek to break a world.
And then there was Byleth to consider, the woman who left the oddest feeling in her stomach. A woman she felt drawn to. Why?
Mercedes feared she knew the answer.
"Even if I did, that wouldn't mean we'd not be best friends, Annie," Mercedes said softly. "Our rooms are still right next to each other, are they not? We'd still go shopping, no? If I did switch, that wouldn't make you any less important to me."
She felt Annette relax in her arms and she smiled, glad no one could see the grim edge.
It was much easier to worry about someone else.
Byleth felt the flask slip from her fingers, clattering to the floor. As she sat up on the bed, her vision shook. Sinking back into her bed, she promptly forgot about it.
Sothis mumbled something, but Byleth's mind was far too gone for that. A mercenary had described this state as being smashed and it reminded Byleth of how her brain felt right now.
There was a knock at the door. Her father.
She pulled herself off the bed, still wearing the same clothes. The smell had ceased to bother her though. As she stepped onto the ground, her foot collided with her flask.
Byleth bent down to get it and fell. Bad idea. She grabbed the flask and found it empty. Disappointed, she started the get up.
The door opened. It wasn't her father.
Ashe stood in the doorway, in the torchlight of night. Byleth looked up to him, still on the floor. Even with dizzy vision, her eyes traveled to the knife in his hand.
Neither spoke while Byleth slowly got back to her feet and fell into a chair. Thank the Goddess she didn't topple it over.
Ashe stepped in and closed the door behind him. He wrinkled his nose at the smell and Byleth felt small.
"You killed my father." Why he felt he need to say it, Byleth didn't know. Did he think her so callous that she hadn't noticed? That she hadn't heard the screams?
"I did," she slurred. The words dripped like honey without the sweetness. Thick, slow, cumbersome.
The knife was shaking in his hand. Or was that her vision?
"You're an orphan maker," he said. "Christophe might be gone, but did you think I was Lonato's only adopted child? I have two younger siblings. Two sisters."
That pit grew in her stomach, like a seeping poison. "I didn't know."
Ashe laughed, but it carried a sharp edge. "I heard they called you the Ashen Demon. When I met you, I expected a monster. I didn't see one, so I thought myself wrong. But I just didn't look deep enough."
"Are you going to kill me?" she asked. Would she blame him if he did?
That stopped Ashe. He looked down to the knife. "I don't know," he admitted, voice wavering. "I just want to make you understand my pain."
He bent over and picked up the flask Byleth had dropped again. When had she done that? Ashe walked over to the window and opened it, tossing it outside.
"What are you doing?" The slurring was getting worse. Goddess, if she passed out now, she'd wake with a knife in her.
He glared at her. His gaze was judge, jury and executioner. And she was found wanting.
"You're running from the pain you caused. From my pain!" he shouted. "Don't you dare try and blot this out. You killed my father. You killed my sisters' father. You widowed a woman. You spat on Christophe's memory. You don't get to escape this, you will suffer." Ashe closed the distance, a wild beast on the edge of breaking its restraints. "I won't kill you, I won't sink to your level. But I'll change my mind if I ever see you drinking again."
When Byleth didn't respond, Ashe grabbed her throat and held the knife up. "Swear it! Live with what you've done!"
"I swear," she whispered and tears pooled in her eyes.
The door crashed open. Ashe let go of her throat and stowed the knife in his belt so quickly Byleth swore it was never out.
"Ashe, what are you doing?" a familiar voice said. Soft, warm.
"Just leaving," he said, his voice lighter. Ashe gave Byleth one last look before departing.
Mercedes stood in the door, looking between her friend and the professor who had begun to openly cry. Making a decision, she stepped inside and closed the door.
The woman said nothing as she helped Byleth up and got her changed. When the professor began to vomit out the window, Mercedes held her hair back. And when all energy had left her, Mercedes helped her clean up and get into bed.
"Stay," whispered Byleth, feeling weaker than she ever had.
Mercedes nodded and pull the chair up next to Byleth's bed, holding her hand. As Byleth's eyes began to close, the woman pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Mercie?" she whispered, confused.
Her companion blushed, "Forgive me, that was much too forward." Her face was still close to hers.
Byleth wrapped a hand around her neck and pulled her in for a drunken kiss. And then sleep took her.
Jeralt looked up as the door to his office opened. It was Rhea. He'd been waiting for this all night. It was a surprise she hadn't come sooner.
The sun had long set. Checking on Byleth would have to wait for morning. With luck, one of her students would have come to see her. They were good kids, he had to admit. It took a hell of a soul to charm his daughter.
And he was mighty proud of that.
Sitri, he mused. Did I do right in how I raised her?
Rhea took a seat across from him. Jeralt kept his face neutral.
"How is she?" the Archbishop asked.
"Fine, she just needs rest," he said, telling a partial truth. "She isn't used to being the center of attention like that."
Rhea smiled. "I am so happy to hear that, Jeralt. I did not mean to cause such distress to the two of you."
Vile witch. Lonato's words echoed in his head.
"I'm confused why you would pick her instead of Catherine. She's your executioner, after all," he said. Time for answers.
Rhea's smiled dipped. You're treading dangerous ground, it said. "I thought it a chance for Byleth to prove her loyalty to the Church. And I sought to free Catherine from the guilt of killing someone she knew. The death of Christophe still weighs on her, though she will not admit it."
"Of course. I'm just a father, I worry for her," Jeralt said. That, at least, was true.
The Archbishop nodded and folded her hands. "As we all do, Jeralt. She is truly someone precious. If I didn't know better, she is the splitting image of Sitri."
Fuck. "I think she got some of my good looks," he deflected.
"Jeralt. Is Byleth Sitri's child? You claimed you had her after you left. Is this true?"
His hands were under his desk. He had a knife at his belt, but little else. Could he grab it without her noticing? Seteth's office was right across from his, could he get past him? "It is. After Sitri, I…was lonely. I found someone else."
Rhea stared at him for a long time and Jeralt damned his inability to lie. The older you grew, the more obvious it became if you weren't good at it.
"A pity," the Archbishop said. "I'm sure Sitri would have been quite sad that you moved on so quickly."
He stood without thinking. "Don't you dare speak of her like that!" He was shouting.
But Rhea smiled. "Forgive me, Jeralt. The night draws late and I misspoke. What you had with her was something to treasure. I'm sure you had your reasons for moving on so soon after leaving."
She knew. Of course she did. This was the nail on the coffin, this conversation. The last check she wanted.
"No harm done," he growled.
The door opened to his office and Seteth stepped in. He looked to Jeralt standing and eyes widened in alarm. "Forgive me, I heard raised voices."
"Peace, Seteth. Jeralt and I were just airing a disagreement we had. Jeralt, prepare for the morning, there is a mission I have to send you on. You'll be gone from the monastery for some time." She stood and walked to the door, guiding Seteth with her.
"Fuck," he muttered, sitting down and running a hand through his hair. He dare not refuse, not now.
The door opened again. He nearly shouted before seeing a familiar, albeit older, face.
"My apologies," Aelfric said, sitting down quickly. "I haven't much time. If the Archbishop sees me speaking with you, there will be consequences."
"Goddess, it's been years," Jeralt muttered. He'd last seen the man just a day before he'd left the monastery. Hell, he hadn't even known the man was here now.
"Twenty-one," Aelfric said, eyeing Jeralt. "The Archbishop is sending you away for a month, but I know for a fact that complications will arise and you will be delayed longer."
"How—"
"I've been meaning to speak to you since you arrived back here," Aelfric said quickly. "But a Cardinal meeting with the Captain of the Knights would raise eyebrows if the wrong people saw."
"What do you want from me?" Jeralt asked, his breath hitching.
Aelfric chuckled. "Alas, ever the mercenary. This information is free. Our interests align in keeping Byleth safe. Sitri was my friend, you know." His voice twisted with melancholy on the word friend. "When you arrive at Arianrhod, there will be a message for you about bandits on the Rhodos Coast. There's no malice in the request itself, the region has seen increased activity from unknown individuals as of late. But Rhea intends to keep you busy with that as long as she can."
"Do you know why?" Jeralt whispered, leaning forward to a man he hadn't seen in two decades.
"Sadly, no. Ever since you and Byleth arrived back here, she's been much happier. More confident, rather. Like she expects something to come. It has me and a few other Cardinals concerned."
"And you think it has to do with Byleth?"
He laughed. "It doesn't have to do with you, Jeralt, I can tell you that much. You know the rumors about the fire just as I do. But we're the only two to know the secret."
"Shh," Jeralt urged, restraining the impulse to cover the man's mouth.
Aelfric nodded. "The secret is safe with me. I shall not let harm come to Sitri's child, worry not. I helped you back then, I'll help you now. I have friends among the Knights, they will keep an eye on her while you're gone."
"Aelfric," Jeralt said, "it's been years. You walk in here unannounced and expect me to trust you?"
The smile he received could only be described as pained, the kind he saw on someone who had lost something. "I loved her, once upon a time. Sitri," he said, noticing Jeralt's confusion. "But I was content that she was happy with you. And she was so excited about the idea of children…" Aelfric slipped into memory. Catching himself, he added, "She'd want me to help. She'd want me to protect her child."
Damn it, he believed him. Part of him protested that he had coveted his wife, that he couldn't be trusted for that. But Aelfric, for whatever faults he may have, helped him fake Byleth's death. He'd been an ally. A friend once upon a time.
"Alright, I trust you," Jeralt said. To hell with it. He needed someone to trust here.
"Head to the Rhodos Coast instead of Arianrhod, I'll have one of my people meet you along the way. You can have deniability then, say you got the message in transit. That can shave off some time." Aelfric stood with a genuine smile. "I've arranged for a group of Knights to be on a scouting mission in the area, they'll join up with you to help."
"Huh, wouldn't have expected you to be able to command my own Knights." Jeralt grinned. Memories came back of better days, before he was Captain and before Aelfric a Cardinal. Back to days where they'd plotted their rebellion of faking Byleth's death.
"A Cardinal has his own defenses should the need arise," Aelfric said. He held out a hand, "I'm sorry we must part so soon. We'll catch up properly when you get back."
Jeralt chuckled. "You owe me a drink for all this, that's for sure." He shook the hand.
Author Notes: In case yall hadn't figured it out, no Divine Pulse. That's a whole complicated mess that I admire people attempting, but this fic has plenty to focus on as is.
Editing Notes:
2/12/2021: Minor grammar adjustments.
4/14/2021: I spelled Riegan wrong.
7/29/2021: Minor grammar adjustments.