Title: Chasing Ghosts

A/N: For the Immaculate One: Rhea zine! I just love the tension of Rhea wanting what can never come back.

Summary: Byleth was as clever as her father, as serious as Hanneman, a hard worker like Seteth, and as reckless as Catherine. Rhea could pieces of her coworkers and family in Byleth, but she couldn't find any remainders of Sitri. She couldn't find any signs of Sothis.

Rhea might have failed again. Worse, she might not be forgiven this time.

There were few things better than warm tea on a cool evening, the finest of which was sharing it with company. And there was no company better than Byleth's. Rhea glanced at the woman sitting cross-legged on the other side of her bed, nonchalantly biting a biscuit. With a blank expression, Byleth idly glanced around the room. Despite a handful of visits, she always took in the place as though it was her first time.

"Looking for something? Rhea asked, taking a sip of her chamomile tea. The sweet scent of apples wafted cloyingly off the cup. It was a comforting smell, reminding her of many nights spent curled up with Flayn and a romance novel.

"No." Byleth shook her head simply, turning her attention back to Rhea. Her piercing blue eyes were livelier than when they'd first met, and perhaps the monastery was starting to rub off on her. Jeralt had been the same when he'd first arrived decades ago, his rough edges softening over his years of service. "It's a big room."

Rhea chuckled. And just like Jeralt, Byleth had a tendency for the understated. "I understand the sentiment. I honestly do not know what to do with all the space."

Still, with the two of them here, enjoying tea, it felt more cozy than vast.

"You can take my classroom," Byleth offered. It was hard to tell if she was serious or joking; her neutral expression didn't offer much answer in that regard. Was she smiling? Smirking? There was so little Sitri in her odd reactions and mysterious behaviour, so little of her even in how Byleth looked.

Rhea's hand clenched on her bedsheet. A bitter pang ran through her body at the memory of her almost-daughter. Forcing a chuckle, she asked, "Not enough room?"

"Not with all the students applying for it." Byleth frowned, taking another bite of the hard biscuit. Rhea wasn't sure if she actually liked them, or if she just ate to have something to do. "There's too many of them. I don't have desk space."

That was a piece of news she hadn't expected. For all of Seteth's detailed reports, he had glossed over the class changes. Rhea blinked. "That many?"

"It's a lot." She pursed her lips, mulling over it. "Maybe I should reject some."

"You need not worry about that." Clasping her hands, she smiled comfortingly. "We will ensure you have ample room and resources to handle however many students are in your classes. Though, I am not sure how Hanneman or Manuela will take it."

Byleth's frown grew deeper. "That is…also a problem."

Somehow, she was more serious than Cyril or Hanneman. Less expressive than Shamir. A harder worker than Seteth and more reckless than Catherine. Rhea could find pieces of all her close associates in Byleth, little markers of their influence. It had only been months, yet they'd all changed her somehow, transforming the stoic woman who'd first arrived into something more.

And yet, despite wielding the Blade of the Creator, there was no indication of Sothis's influence at all. Something in Rhea's chest tightened at the thought, and she reached up to grip her shirt. "Byleth…do you ever dream of the Red Canyon? Or of people and places you do not recognize?"

Or of me?

"The red canyon?" Byleth flinched, taken aback. Considering it, she slowly replied, "I—"

Mercifully, a knock on the door interrupted them. Rhea wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the end of that sentence, the possible rejection of everything she'd hoped for for centuries in a single breath. Straightening up, Rhea lowered her arms to her sides, transforming herself back into the Archbishop. There was strength in her role, enough to hide any fears and personal feelings, and she let the feeling sink into her core before calling out, "You may enter."

The door opened and Seteth stepped in, several papers in hand. Noticing Byleth, he raised a brow. "Should I come another time?"

"No, it is fine." Rhea smiled apologetically at Byleth. "Another time, then?"

She nodded, looking neither disgruntled nor relieved. Not for the first time, Rhea wished she could read her mind. Did Byleth enjoy these private moments, these small snatched snippets of time? Dreaded them? Or was she simply indifferent to them all, seeing them as just another duty to bear?

The door thudded shut behind Byleth, the room feeling colder and emptier with her passing. Rhea suppressed a shiver. Donning a calm smile, she turned to Seteth. "More paperwork?"

She could feel Seteth's stare before he spoke, hear the disapproving tone before he even said a word. "Did you have a good talk?"

"Well enough," she lied. When he only pursed his lips in response, Rhea sighed. "What is it?"

Seteth clasped his hands behind his back as he slowly approached her. Still in administrator mode, he regarded her evenly. "Why is she here?"

"A professional courtesy," Rhea replied easily, watching as his frown grew deeper. "I wanted to confirm how she was adjusting here."

"This goes beyond professional courtesy," he argued, shaking his head. "You have brought her here several times."

"Is it really that unusual?" Rhea murmured, staring up at him.

His stern expression softened. "I have accepted that you will not explain why you have insisted that we hire her, that she—any of this, honestly." He sat down beside her. "Is there nothing you can tell me?"

"I…" Rhea worried her lip. Now that they were on eye level, she couldn't handle his direct gaze and she looked out the window instead. Her flowers swayed in the breeze. It was easier to be brave when she couldn't see his reaction. "Is there anything familiar about Byleth?"

"Familiar?" Taken aback, Seteth stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I…I cannot say that there is. Why?"

"Me neither…" There was none of her mother's childishness, her wisdom, her kindness in Byleth. No matter how Rhea squinted or where she changed the topic, it was apparent: Sothis hadn't woken up.

Byleth was just Byleth.

She might have failed again.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she leaned on Seteth, burying her face in his chest. "She's so utterly different."

"Rhea?" Surprised, he gingerly wrapped an arm around her. His voice lowered as he murmured, "Seiros?" Automatically, he stroked her hair, each motion long and soothing. For a second, she was a child in her mother's arms again and she closed her eyes as she breathed in his familiar, earthy scent. "Did something happen?"

Yes. Rhea could still hear the screams, feel the fiery heat, taste the blood from that day centuries ago. The red canyon had been stained dark with her kin's life. Even now she couldn't forget her mother's strangled gasp or her own pitiful cries for help. For someone, anyone, to come and save them.

Seteth and Flayn hadn't been there. Her brothers hadn't witnessed it firsthand. It had just been her, and now it wouldn't leave her.

"I…" Rhea listened to his steady heartbeat. Seteth's counsel was rarely wrong.

He would get mad.

He would get more than mad.

You wouldn't forgive me. She squeezed her eyes tighter, her tears sliding down her cheek and onto his shirt. He wouldn't understand the need for her mother to return, wouldn't understand the way her heart threatened to burst every time she remembered that canyon. In the centuries that had passed, he'd become like a brother to her, Flayn a niece.

If either of them knew…they wouldn't look at her the same. They would get up and live, disappearing like her brothers did until they could only be found in rumours and stories.

And for all of her strength, Rhea had never been able to bear loneliness. "Nothing…just a memory."

She wasn't ready to lose her family, not again.