"Ugh… My head," Byleth groaned as she peeked out from under the quilt. She looked out towards the balcony. It appeared to be late morning, judging by the way the sun hung in the sky. She grumbled through the hangover, pulling the blanket back over her eyes.

The victory celebration at Garreg Mach had been a night to remember or, in Byleth's case, one to forget.

"What the…" she mumbled, realising she was fully clothed under the sheets. She couldn't even remember getting back to her room.

Then, a hazy memory surfaced through the haze.

She shot bolt upright, a look of despair etched on her face. She remembered that Hubert was there… but she couldn't quite recall what they spoke about. She had a feeling that things wouldn't have gone in her favour. She cursed multiple times as she pulled herself wearily out of bed. If it wasn't for the upcoming meeting she would have stayed put – and have been able to avoid him – at least for a while until she regained some semblance of pride.

There was a knock at the door; so loud it was like someone was rapping upon her skull. She hurried to her feet, shaking her head to get the blood rushing through it. Even after two weeks, her injury still continued to bother her, she found standing to be particularly painful. Thankful that she was already decent, she opened the heavy wooden door to find a familiar figure looming outside.

"Hubert," she said matter-of-factly. She was jealous at how put together he looked. It seemed he was surprised she had answered the door. Her apprehension burned at the sight of him, especially given the fact that he knew more about last night than she did. "What are you doing here?"

Every time she looked at him it reminded her of when he ended it, whatever it was, two weeks past. Still, whenever they were close she couldn't help but feel the desire to fall into his arms again. Knowing that they blatantly still cared for each other just made it all the more bitter. Being cordial yet cold was the only way she could deal with his presence.

"Apologies for waking you. I just came to remind you that the council meeting will be starting within the hour. Judging by your behaviour last night I was not convinced you would wake in time." He paused, a look of irritation on his face. "You're not the only person I've had to rise from a hangover. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Hubert, wait! I have questions."

"Apologies, but I must take my leave. Lady Edelgard probably has some boots that need shining."

Boots that need shining? What exactly had she said to him?

Byleth could tell he was taunting her, which made her curiosity burn even more brilliantly. Before she could respond he bowed curtly, smirking as he turned to walk away. "And do be sure to brush the grass from your hair before you leave. Farewell, Byleth."

Oh, Gods… She closed the door, leaning her back against it, trying her best to remember what had happened between them – a snippet, anything! What on earth did I say to him? Did I drop the act? Did I get mad at him, did I confess to him? Oh, this is torture.


The night before

Dorothea laughed, her cheeks rosy as she took another sip of red wine, she placed the glass on the table with a sigh. "And so, I got Petra to guide her to where we were speaking, just so the Professor could overhear!" She followed it up with another haughty laugh.

The orchestra was beginning to calm, playing fanciful string music in the great hall. The celebration Edelgard had promised came a week later than expected, but it was appreciated none the less. The evening marched onward, the long night beginning to wind down as people left in dribs and drabs.

"And it worked, for a time at least," Byleth replied.

Her and Dorothea had cleared the air a long time ago. Hearing the story through her slurred words provided a surprising amount of comfort.

"What did you do after you found out?" Bernadetta asked sheepishly, "oh! I'd be way too embarrassed to even say anything! I'd find a quiet corner of my room and welcome sweet death." She let out a frustrated squeal.

"I think I threw some books at him."

"That's an odd reaction," Lysithia commented, sipping on some pink lemonade.

"Who knows… Maybe he will marry me now…" Dorothea mused in her drunken state.

Petra, Lysithia and Bernadetta exchanged awkward glances. Caspar grunted in disapproval.

"You can have him," Byleth replied coyly, finishing her drink. Immediately the tension fell, and the girls giggled together. It had been two weeks since Hubert had put a stop to the relationship. Or whatever it was, she wasn't quite sure herself.

Caspar held his head in one hand, "Ugh, why am I even sat here with you guys. I don't wanna hear about your boring love lives!"

Dorothea giggled, "At least when you find your own special someone, you can look back on this and know what NOT to do."

"Yeah, whenever that happens," he said, giving Dorothea a stormy side-eye.

"I need another drink," Byleth said as she started to get up, but a shot of pain caused her to wince. Through the drinking, she had almost forgotten about her injury.

"Whoa there, professor," he said, getting to his feet. "I'll get you one, I need a break from this crap anyway."

"Oh. Thank you," she said, feeling the relief as she sat down again.

"Ugh, that man is so dense," Dorothea whined, putting her elbow on the table and resting her head in her palm as she watched him walk away.

Byleth noticed Petra avoiding her gaze. "You need to stop blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault."

The Brigid princess remained silent for a moment.

Lysithia's looked up from her drink, eyes narrowed. "Besides, even after the Professor fell, you carried the troops forward. You have the qualities of a good leader, Petra."

"Yes, I heard you were incredible," Byleth smiled.

Dorothea mumbled under her breath about how Caspar wouldn't even ask her for a dance.

"I… Thank you. I think this is something I need to be overcoming on my own." Her voice was resolved, but the dejection was still apparent.

"How does drinking make you even more serious than before!" Dorothea chastised playfully, slinging an arm around her grumpy friend.

Petra cracked a smile and Dorothea laughed.

"That's more like it! Maybe another drink will help!"

"You called?" Caspar said as he placed another round of drinks on the table.

"Oh you're a lifesaver! I was nearly dry!" Dorothea bounced, fixing her posture before pouring another glass of wine.

"Don't you think you've had enough? You can seriously knock 'em back," Caspar said, raising an eyebrow.

"I know my limits," she said whimsically.

"You said that last time, and I had to carry you back to your quarters."

"Well, aren't I lucky to have such a sweet, decent man looking out for me." She laughed.

"Ugh. Sort yourself out, you're almost falling out of your dress," he replied, looking away bashfully.

"Why, Caspar! Have you been looking?" She giggled, pretending to be shocked whilst adjusting the top of her gown.

The rest of the evening went much the same way. It had been good to blow off some steam. Byleth had decided to call it a night, she said her farewells and began to head back to her quarters.

She took a deep breath as she walked through the courtyard. The air here was cooler and less stifling. She thought back on the conversation, finding it hypocritical telling Petra to forgive herself when it was her that needed to do just that. If only I was stronger, if only I could protect myself properly then he wouldn't have had to… The pain in her chest was evidence of that, a reminder of her failure. Still, she needed to take it head-on – not to wallow in both the physical and mental ache.

She felt herself wobble a little, the fresh air making her head spin.

"Had a good evening, have we?" an unwelcome voice teased, snapping her back to reality, searching for the source.

"What have I told you about sneaking up on me? You're lucky I don't have a weapon," she replied, turning to find Hubert leaning against a shadowy outcrop of the Cathedral wall.

"There was no sneaking involved, you merely crossed my path. I suppose in your stupor you failed to notice me."

She rolled her eyes, trying her best to stand steady. "What do you want, anyway?"

"Just to chat," he said, voice low as he walked towards her and into the moonlight.

"There's a council meeting tomorrow, I'm sure it can wait until then," she replied. "Why don't you… scurry off somewhere." She waved a hand in a shooing motion. "I'm sure El needs her… boots shined or something. Though I'd use a cloth – it'd work a damn sight better than your tongue."

"How very crass."

"You're welcome," she said teasingly, an air of mischief igniting out of frustration. "You might run out of things to do without a life of your own. I can suggest more if you like?"

His eyes narrowed. "Now you're just trying to get a rise out of me. It's quite obvious that this is a waste of my time."

"Ah, how odd, I was thinking the same thing."

"Is this how you thank someone after they saved your life?"

She sighed. Things had been difficult between them recently. But it was hard to tell who was perpetuating it more. Giving in to the jelly of her legs and the pain in her chest, she flopped down onto the grass, the cool dew beautifully refreshing on the back of her head.

"What are you doing?" Hubert said disdainfully.

"People lie on the grass all the time."

Hubert scowled. "Yes… When it's warm and sunny. Not after midnight in the cold. You're clearly drunk."

"You're very observant," she teased. Even though the conversation was rather tense, she had to admit to herself that she'd missed their time together. "Plus, you know... It kind of hurts to stand at the moment." She then lifted her hand to tug on his cloak. "Try it, you might like it." She smiled, and that seemed to be all the convincing he needed.

To her shock he laid down next to her, arms crossed, eyes latched to the dreamy sky.


There was a long silence between them. It was clear that Byleth was rather stunned by his compliance. But then again, he'd do anything for that smile of hers. It was almost involuntary and the thought of it filled him with both dread and contentment. Like a switch flicking between the two when he thought too much about it. He was so thankful that she hadn't perished that day, but to know that she was still in so much physical pain... That fact alone dissipated his anger as soon as the words escaped her lips.

"You're so backwards," she said, amused. "When normal people realise they care for another in that way, they take it further – not break it off completely."

"You know my reasons. And it wasn't as if I didn't warn you from the beginning. Besides, you don't seem overly cut up by it all."

"I suppose I just… switched it off."

He huffed. If only he had the ability to do that so simply.

"You know," she continued, letting out a yawn. "Edelgard doesn't care that you left her to save me. The only one who's punishing you is yourself."

How a drunkard could say such a clear, poignant thing was beyond him.

"Perhaps that is so, but it is the path I have chosen. It was never going to be straightforward."

She let out a frustrated sigh, her words drowsily drawling out. "You know, I keep thinking… What if I was stronger? What if you didn't need to protect me? Then you wouldn't have had to worry like that, and rush to save me…"

He scowled. Hearing her blame herself for his own lack of self-control was tragic – why couldn't she just think of him as the villain and keep at arm's length? He thought about what she'd said for a while, taking advantage of the silence. The very fact that he was willing to neglect his duties in favour of her was, in a word, ridiculous. And yet, here he was, contemplating it. All his values were being challenged and he despised it.

However, one thing was certain. If they were to be together, he couldn't waver again. He needed to decide and stick with it. For both their sakes.

"I suppose… If we were to marry…" He instantly regretted the words a soon as they slipped, surely, they were far too sudden to mean anything. He turned his head to see her reaction, met by her sleeping face.

She fell asleep. Ah, that was lucky. I knew I shouldn't have had a drink tonight.