Part 2 (TWSITD Arc)


4 months later

Byleth awoke at some point between midnight and morning. The warm air that rolled through the open window did nothing to quench the overbearing heat of her body. She groaned, kicking off the heavy quilt in a tired effort to cool down.

Summer in Enbarr was hell.

Never had she expected to miss the bone-chilling winters of Faerghus, but now, wiping the sweat from her brow, she dreamed of falling asleep curled up in a blanket of snow. One day she hoped to return, if not only to rest some flowers upon Dimitri's grave.

She brushed an arm over the other side of the bed, searching for her husband. But all she found was an empty space.

"Not again," she mumbled, sitting up drowsily as her eyes adjusted to the dim room.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and found her footing on the hardwood floor. The full moon cast shadows and silver-light over her path as she made her way down the staircase. She tilted her head to look over the bannister, noticing Hubert asleep on the sofa. Her features softened as she watched him for a short minute. It was a rare moment to catch him that peaceful as of late; he had been working himself to the bone to ensure the next mission was a success.

As expected, he began to stir. Byleth often wondered if his mind were ever truly at rest or if, conditioned by such an abnormal life, he could sense eyes upon him even while sleeping.

She made her way down the rest of the steps, sitting beside his legs on the sofa. "Hey," she whispered, brushing the hair from his eyes. "You know you don't have to sleep down here."

"I got back rather late," he replied, eyes half-open. He brushed a couple of fingers over her cheek. "I could not bear to wake you."

"Thank you, but I find it difficult to sleep without you," she said as she snuggled up to him. He wrapped his arms around her as their bodies aligned, his face nestling into her hair with a heavy breath.

His quiet voice fell an octave. "Nevertheless, you'll have to get used to it, I'll be leaving for Hrym territory within a couple of days."

Her composure melted with those words, replaced by an unbending sense of worry. Even though facing death was a part of war, they always had each other. Now he was likely to face adversity, and this time she wouldn't be there.

"I wish I could go with you," she let slip.

His arms squeezed tighter. "You know that's far too risky. We have no idea what to expect when it comes to those wretched creatures, not to mention Thales. I would damn near lose my mind if anything happened to you… to either of you."

She exhaled in defeat. Even if she weren't carrying his child she would be of little use on the battlefield. Even now she would still ghost her hand over her hip to check for her sword. Finding it missing was always a sobering reminder. And now her past recklessness had come to haunt her. Her husband and closest friends were going to war without her, and all she could do was watch from the side-lines and wait for their return.

Was this how her mother had felt when she watched her father leave on missions all those years ago? Did she feel this weakness? This helplessness?

"I just… want to do more," she whispered.

Perhaps deep down she missed the thrill of the fight.

"You've done enough. Without your keen eye and council, we likely wouldn't have noticed the leads that tracked them down in the first place." He sighed. "We still need you – I still need you. But you need to leave the fighting to us now."

Her protest fell mute and she listened to the stillness of the night, feeling more assured, trying to push her negative thoughts away. She heard his breaths though the comfortable silence that followed, broken only when Hubert weaved his fingers in hers and kissed her neck.

"I find it quite romantic that you worry about me so."

She couldn't help but give a subdued laugh. "Shall I gaze from the window like a saddened maiden whilst I await your return?" she replied with dramatic flair.

He huffed, "I'll leave you my handkerchief to catch your tears."

"My, what a thoughtful husband," she giggled.

"Naturally."

They soon fell asleep in each other's arms. They woke in the morning hardly rested and a little stiff, but happy none the less.

In the early afternoon, she stopped by the local school. When she wasn't providing council at the palace, she would teach healing magic there. The children were always happy to see her, idolised her in fact, always nipping at her heels and begging for heroic stories from the war. She would gladly share them, usually getting carried away, embellishing them into resplendent tales of dragons, knights, and ferocious beasts. Even the other teachers would sit captivated by her grandiose stories.

After an afternoon being pestered quite fervently by the children to teach them fire spells, she headed home. As usual, she found herself in the garden tending to the plants.

Hubert was practical, even when it came to gifts. Instead of gifting her flowers that would last little over a week, he would instead bring her cuttings of the unique and beautiful plants from the palace gardens. Not only did it give her a hobby, but it was a gift that would last a meaningful time. She brushed a gentle finger over a sapling, it's little leaves beginning to grow. It would soon flourish into a gorgeous white bloom: a rare blossom that could only be found in Duscur.

Duscur. She felt her stomach twist, the memory of Dedue sitting heavy in her mind. He was the one who taught her much of what she knew about plants. All those years ago, sat in companionable silence as they tended to the greenhouse; the humid heat and sound of trowels digging into the soil. They told her he had turned into a demonic beast that day, giving up his own humanity for the sake of his king…

Her senses kicked in, blood rushing. She heard the rustling of grass beneath silent footsteps, the feeling of close eyes upon the back of her head. Without hesitation, she whipped out a concealed bade.

"Lady Vestra," the young voice whispered, hardly a regard towards the dagger. "Please, forgive my intrusion, I did not mean to startle you."

"Who are you?" Byleth narrowed her eyes as the boy pulled down his dark hood. His lavender eyes regarded her behind limp black hair, messy and unkempt. He could not have been older than 12, barely standing a head above her waist. But the way he held himself along with a strong, impassive aura suggested he was not ordinary.

The boy's eyes widened ever so slightly in realisation before returning to a glassy stare.

"Samael…" he bowed, "Apologies again. As I know you so well, it did not occur to me that you would not recognise me."

His tone was demure and monotone, devoid of any personable cadence.

Byleth sheathed her weapon and stood to greet him, unease giving way to curiosity. She had wondered on the face of her shadow for quite some time. Hubert had mentioned he was a boy… but this. This was just a child. No doubt Samael was related to House Vestra, the family resemblance was almost uncanny.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she replied with a smile.

"Likewise. Before I came into your service, I had heard many stories about you. The great Ashen demon, The Fell Star… Wings of Hegemon."

Byleth arched an eyebrow. He was incredibly difficult to read, she could not tell if he was speaking out of childish reverie or admonishment. She had to admit, it was strange hearing her titles recited so openly and in one breath.

He broke the short silence. "You are… kinder than I expected."

"Ah, you speak of the treats I leave out for you." She had tried her hand at baking, albeit not very well. But whatever was spare she would leave for him on the windowsill with a note. It would always bring a smile to her face when she found the bowl empty.

"They were… adequate."

Definitely a Vestra. She mused to herself, holding in a giggle. "There's nothing wrong with liking cookies."

"Assassins do not like cookies." She noted a slight pout on his face before he pulled his hood back over his head, concealing his face once more.

"Alright, I believe you," she replied with a knowing smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I received a raven. Lord Vestra requests your presence at the palace."

"It must be important if he cannot tell me in person."

"Indeed, the letter said as much. 'deliver her with due haste' it said."

"Deliver?"

Samael nodded, presenting his palm and closing the gap between them. She recognised that glow of magic immediately, but before she could conjure another thought they had arrived at the palace courtyard. She was rather impressed at his skill at such a young age. Many could spend their lives trying to learn the fundamentals of such a technique, let alone teleporting two people at once. It must have run in his blood.

"All this time I've been walking everywhere... I could have had you warp me places." She said with a vexed expression.

"Likely for the best, My Lady. One would not desire to become fat."

"You'd do well to watch your tongue," she rebuked.

"Forgive me, Lady Vestra. I spoke out of turn… I meant no disrespect."

"Of course you didn't," she sighed. It was strange being addressed so formally. She felt like Edelgard with her very own miniature Hubert.

Byleth swept her hands over her dress. "You could have at least given me some warning. I'm hardly dressed for this. By the goddess, I have soil on my clothes!"

"Apologies for my lack of foresight… I fear I do not have the magic reserves for two more trips."

"This will have to do then."

"I have taken too many liberties in speaking with you. I will remove myself from your sights at once."

And with a burst of violet magic, he was gone.

She couldn't decide if this encounter made her more or less inclined to meet the rest of Hubert's family.

Her mind turned to the task at hand, buzzing with questions as to what could be so important. She entered the palace and was greeted by a guard. He escorted Byleth to a private meeting room, he opened the door for her, and she stepped in, closing it behind her.

She turned, about to apologise for her attire when two familiar faces caused her breath to catch.

"S-Seteth? Flayn?" She was frozen to the spot, looking over to Edelgard and Hubert to confirm that it was indeed real.

"It is so wonderful to see you again, professor!" Flayn shouted with glee. The girl ran over, throwing her arms around her in an embrace she had missed so dearly.

Byleth pulled away, grasping her by the hands. "You're alive!" She felt tears welling up, "By the goddess, you're alive!"

Seteth placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She clutched onto Flayn as if she'd vanish at any moment.

"It is good to see you well," Seteth said fondly.

"But I don't understand, why are you here of all places? What's going on?"

"Perhaps…" Seteth cleared his throat, throwing a pensive eye towards Hubert. "Your husband would care to enlighten you?"

The animosity between the two men was practically feral.

Hubert glared at him, avoiding eye contact with his wife. "We have been trying to solicit further information in regard to certain… practices that took place in the church. Along with information pertaining to those who slither in the dark. They have the knowledge we seek but have so far refused to divulge it."

"How long, Hubert?" She asked, "how long have you been in contact with them?"

Hubert still refused to meet her gaze.

Her knuckles whitened through clenched fists. Judging by his reaction it had been a while.

"Why didn't you tell me? You could have at least told me they were alive!" She spat.

"Now is not the time for this," Edelgard spoke, commanding the room. Byleth fell silent, neglecting to hide that she was burning with ire. "In exchange for their support in the war and information, they have asked for the sword of the creator and access to Garreg Mach… they also refused to negotiate further without your presence at this meeting."

"Why do you want the sword?" Byleth asked curiously, turning to meet Seteth.

"Now that you are within our presence, professor, I will gladly share our intentions," Seteth said, "We wish to retrieve the sword of the creator with the sole intention of cremating it, we feel the most fitting place would be at Garreg Mach."

"Cremation?" Edelgard asked, her eyes widening.

"Yes," Seteth replied, "The heroes' relics, as they came to be known, were created from the bodies of my brethren. Their blades forged from their bones, and their hearts bound to them as crest stones."

"Your brethren…" Byleth replied, "so, it is true. We had speculated that you were indeed the two saints, Cichol and Cethleann. That about confirms our theory."

"Yes. After we got word that Seiros had discarded her alias, we suspected you would come to that conclusion."

Edelgard nodded, "Continue."

"The sword of the creator is notably different from the others, created from Sothis herself…"

The room fell silent, the revelation hanging heavily in the air.

Seteth cleared his throat and continued. "The world is changing to your ideals, your highness. Such regalia will not bend to them. We wish to finally bring the goddess peace. And we request that Byleth accompany us."

"You have clearly gone mad," Hubert seethed.

"Need I remind you that she housed the power of the goddess herself? If anyone should be present, it should be her."

"Putting my wife and child in the hands of the two traitors whose family, religion, and way of life we destroyed? Ah yes, that fills me with every confidence."

"You know we would never let any harm come to the professor!" Flayn interjected.

It was clear to see Hubert wanted to mention the incident at the battle but did not wish to expose his defiance to the crown.

"Harm her no. Perhaps you would take her from us and hold her to ransom?"

"I can speak for myself," Byleth said, her eyes narrowing. "And I trust them. Her highness must also place some assurance in their intentions… otherwise, we'd be having this conversation in the cells."

"You're correct," Edelgard said, "But only on the pretence that we have a common enemy." Her attention then fell on Seteth and Flayn. "There is the matter of you turning your back on your own kin."

"I will not deny what we did. But I could not in good conscience fight alongside Seiros, nor turn my blade against her cause. But we come to you now as neutral associates. Those who slither in the dark need to be vanquished, it is in our best interests that we work together."

"And yet you stand before us, making demands in exchange for your information," Hubert said sourly.

Seteth pulled out a scroll of documents from his coat, placing them on the council table. "Regardless of whether you grant us this favour or not, these reports include everything we know – the majority written by Seiros herself. Much of Fodlan's history was changed to the whims of the late archbishop. I wish to rectify that."

"I will give you the sword. It serves us no purpose now anyway. It is gathering dust as we speak," Byleth said, "We should allow Sothis to finally be at peace. Garreg Mach is under imperial control and occupied by its forces, we'll be completely safe." She looked to Edelgard. "I will personally act as envoy if you will allow it."

The Emperor was silent for a moment, contemplating the decision. "If this is truly what you want, then I will allow it. I will defer to your good judgment, my teacher."

"Your majesty..." Hubert grimaced.

"Thank you, your highness," Byleth said with a grateful bow. "We will depart at dawn tomorrow."

"I'll prepare a battalion to escort you there safely," Hubert said with clear reluctance. "I also request that you take Samael with you."

At the very least he was asking for her consent before spying on her this time.

"Alright," she agreed, it was the least she could do to ease his mind. She turned to Seteth and Flayn gesturing to the door. "There is much I wish to discuss with you. If we may adjourn, for now, your highness."

"Very well. Make sure to restrict yourselves to this wing of the palace," Edelgard replied.

As the three of them exited the room Byleth looked at Hubert with an expression that said we will speak later. The large wooden door closed with a thud, leaving in its wake a charged silence between the emperor and minister.

It broke with Edelgard's hushed voice.

"Did I hear that right? You said Samael." Her eyes searched his face for an answer.

"Indeed," he replied, before walking towards the door. "If you will excuse me, your majesty."

"Does she know?" Edelgard said, her voice low.

He stopped.

"She does not," Hubert replied bluntly.

"Are you planning on telling her?" she asked, clenching a fist.

"No."

"Do you not think it risky having them in such close proximity? Honestly, Hubert, what were you thinking?"

He finally met her gaze.

"It won't cause problems… so long as this knowledge stays purely between us. As far as I'm aware, Thales is the only other who knows the truth of his heritage, but once I find him, I'll make sure the dead may never speak."

"I was wondering what had become of Samael. But I... I couldn't bring myself..." Guilt was clear on her face, but as soon as it had appeared, it dissipated. "To think you had him in your service all this time."

"I'm surprised you haven't asked after him after all these years. Though he was not born of you, he is still very much your offspring."

"We may be related by blood, but that thingthat experiment. I refuse to acknowledge him as our child."