Thank you to everyone who has this far - only three or four chapters left :)

I'd love to hear your thoughts!


4 months later

"How can you say that, Hubert?" Byleth beamed, pinching and squishing Samael's cheeks from behind his chair. "He's just so cute!"

"Please, mother, I beseech you. Cease this nonsense," Sam replied, voice muffled and deadpan, delicately attempting to pry her fingers from his face.

They both immediately froze when Hubert snorted a laugh, their eyes fixed upon the man. He stood from the other side of the dining table, bringing a hand to his mouth in surprise.

"I… please excuse me," he mumbled in shame, heading towards the stairs in a restrained dash.

Byleth followed Hubert with her eyes until he fell out of view at the top of the steps.

"I am still not used to hearing him laugh. At least, not in a menacing way," Samael spoke evenly once Byleth relinquished his cheeks.

"He still does that? At work?" She asked with a wry smile.

"He did on occasion, yes," Sam replied with a childish grin.

She giggled to herself and started to collect the plates from the table. They had fallen into a pleasant routine over the last few months. A quaint family unit. When Hubert relinquished Samael of his duties and asked him what he wanted, the boy immediately wished to swear his vassalage to her. Instead, she decided to adopt him into their family.

Sam stood from his chair and reached over to grab his empty plate. "Please, let me assist you."

"I can handle it. Stop fussing over me," she said, swatting his hand away and ruffling his raven black hair. He quickly retreated and landed back on his chair. "Let me take care of this, just concentrate on writing your letter."

"If you insist," he replied, pulling the inkwell and half-written letter from the middle of the table, previously discarded in favour of breakfast. His lavender eyes read through the words he had already written, a thoughtful look upon his face. He picked up his quill, twiddling it as he pondered.

The chill of the encroaching Adrestian winter crept across her body. She shuddered, watching the heavy snowfall through the bay window, the wind chime outside motionless in the frigid, still air. She rubbed the raised hairs on her arms before returning to wash the dishes.

"We should take a trip to Garreg Mach after your sister is born, I bet you'd love to see Flayn again," she mused out loud.

They had not been back to Garreg Mach since that fateful visit. Seteth and Flayn decided they wished to remain there, with Edelgard's blessing, to restore the Monastery. Not as a place of worship, but a centre of education. The two of them had considered it home, much as Byleth had. Perhaps one day she could return there for good and teach again - a daydream she continued to hold onto.

"No, it is easier this way – Flayn cannot pester me by raven," Sam replied after a moment's thought.

She huffed a laugh. "It's difficult to tell if you two get along or not."

"I like her writing, it is pleasing. Though I find her to be rather… boisterous in person."

Flayn and Sam had managed to tolerate each other by the end of their visit all those months back, and, conceding to Flayn's niggling, he agreed to become her pen pal. Byleth found it rather adorable; Sam's face would always faintly light up whenever he received her letters.

"She is pretty though, right?" she teased.

Sam glanced over his shoulder to shoot her a disappointed look. He made a disgusted noise and returned to carefully scribing his letter.

Byleth smirked to herself and dried her hands, heading towards the stairs.

"I'm going to make sure Hubert hasn't hung himself from the rafters," she said dramatically, making her way up to seek him out.

He was stood in the master bedroom, buttoning up his waistcoat in the full-length mirror. She watched him for a short moment, leaning on the doorframe with an amused look on her face.

"It's rude to stare," he said with a reserved smile, not turning to acknowledge her.

"Can you blame me? It is the curse of having a handsome man for a husband." A flutter of delight captured her heart when she noticed his cheeks reddening at her words.

He ran his fingers through his hair and finally switched his brooding gaze to her. "Did you seek me out just to torment me further?" he muttered.

"Maybe… a little bird told me you still do your evil laugh at work," she replied.

He sighed. "That little bird may be stoic, but surely you can discern when he is telling tales."

"I will believe what I want to believe," she giggled.

"I gave up arguing with you a long time ago. It is pointless," he walked over, brushing a few stray hairs behind her ear, a humoured expression clear on his face when she turned her sights away bashfully. "Have you made your mind up on what you wanted to do today?"

"How about we go to the markets?"

"We are not going to the markets. You fainted last time we went."

"I'm feeling better today…"

"Out of the question."

"You just said you'd given up arguing with me."

"This is not an argument. I am merely stating the facts."

"Yes… but if I don't have the fortitude for a simple trip how can I possibly…" her words trailed off. Her health had waned as her pregnancy progressed, and now just a week from giving birth she found the doubt creeping in. Worries that she would share the same fate as her mother nestled firmly in the back of her mind, a morbid afterthought.

"Listen to me," he said, placing his hands on her arms. "We have the best healers in all of Adrestia here – and you are strong. You will give birth to our daughter and we will continue as a family, of that, I have no doubt."

Hubert must have noticed the goosebumps that riddled her skin. He broke away, heading towards the dresser. He pulled out a knitted shawl before returning and placing it tenderly over her shoulders.

"Thank you." She placed a warm kiss upon his cheek. "We should tell him about her, it would save confusion later down the line," she said as she tied the shawl, changing the subject. Lingering on her potential demise was putting a damper on her good mood. She placed a gentle hand on her stomach. Not only was Linhardt able to confirm their child had a crest, but also her gender. Her child did indeed have the major crest of flames, giving further fuel to their theory that she hosted a part of the goddess.

"Very well, we can tell him. You're not wrong."

"Alright. And I concede on the markets… the garden then," Byleth replied, "perhaps you can both help me with the plants."

"What monstrosities have you planted in the garden that require tending in the winter?" Hubert grimaced.

She giggled. "Some of the more delicate ones need extra care to make it through."

He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Fine, the garden it is."


Hubert made his way back downstairs after slipping on his coat, followed closely by Byleth.

"Are you willing to assist us in the garden, Samael?" he asked as the boy came into view, still sitting at the table.

"Y-Yes," he stuttered, muffled as he buried his face into his hands. He seemed to be doubled over in pain.

"The headaches still plague you?" Hubert said as he walked to his side, rhetorically, pity in his voice. The persistent guilt he felt for the boy's condition simmered well below the surface, refusing to materialise in anything other than a clenched ball of thorns in his stomach. He blamed himself. He should not have disowned him and sent him back with Thales, he realised that now. Samael's headaches were a painful reminder of his short-sightedness and cruelty, a punishment he had to live and witness each day.

Hubert exhaled briskly, kneeling next to him, placing two fingertips to Samael's forehead. The barest of healing magic he had learned sparking to life in bright golden light. It was strange, when Samael's headaches got this bad it was almost as if he could see straight through his eyes. Like they had a transparent quality to them. Goddess knows that they had done to him in Shambhala.

He lingered on the spell, only breaking away when Samael's body relaxed a little.

"Better?" Hubert asked.

"Yes. My thanks," he replied, finding his footing on the wooden floor.

Hubert stood, placing a tentative hand on Samael's head – a small hint of affection. "Notify me if it gets bad. I do not want you to suffer… you are my son after all." He did not say it often, but enough to leave an impact when it met the boy's ears. There was always a strange sense of irony attached to the sentiment… Samael had no idea he was his biological father.

Before Samael could respond Byleth pounced on him from behind, pushing a warm knitted hat over his head so that it covered his eyes. The boy hardly reacted, instead, tucking the hat up so he could see, pushing away his bangs that were now flat against his face.

"It's cold out!" Byleth said, trying to contain her mischievous demeanour.

Hubert smirked and walked over to the windowed sliding door, watching the fluffy snow fall noiselessly outside. He gave a moment to appreciate the warmth of their marital home, not entirely keen on spending one of his rare free days trudging around in the cold.

His eyes fell back on his wife who had appeared at his side, tugging something woollen onto his bare hand. He brought up his hand to inspect her handiwork, eyes narrowing.

"I am not wearing mittens," he stated, taking the second from Byleth as she attempted to shimmy it up his other hand. He had to admit that they were warm, cosy in fact. But he would not be seen dead wearing such ridiculous things.

"Really? I think they suit you." She held out his usual leather gloves and sighed. "You can't blame me for trying."

"The boy should wear them," Hubert said, referring to the mittens.

Sam shifted uncomfortably as he pulled on his coat, "Perhaps not… surely it would be inefficient to garden without the use of my fingers."

Annoyed that Samael had a better excuse, he yanked the mittens off and placed them on the side table. After fitting his leather gloves, he opened the sliding door and the three of them headed out. Their boots crunched upon the freshly fallen snow as they made their way down the large garden.

Hubert stopped, the tweeting of birds grabbing his attention.

"Those strange birds that nest in the winter…" Hubert mentioned, his breath visible in the frigid air, green eyes listlessly fixed upon the nest that chirped and whistled in the leafless tree.

"I saw a hawk snatch one of the chicks yesterday…" Samael said, "It swooped down, and then the baby bird was gone. I wish I could have done something to prevent it, but I had no time to react."

Hubert gave a short, dark chuckle. "Perhaps it is deserved for having offspring during desperate times."

"Hubert!" Byleth scolded with a smile as nudged him with her elbow. She turned her attention back to Samael. "It seems cruel, but that's just the way of things I suppose."

"It does not make it any less upsetting," Samael replied with little expression.

"A seasoned assassin grieving over a bird? How peculiar," Hubert said in a derisive tone.

"I never took any joy in my work. I suppose I was the hawk, in a way. Doing what I must to survive," he replied.

"But now you're my baby bird," Byleth said affectionately, pulling Samael in for a saccharine hug. The boy gave little resistance, and oddly, Hubert found it quite… adorable.

Ugh. I'm going soft and it's sickening.

"There is something I'd like to speak to you about, Sam," Byleth said as she released him from her embrace.

Samael watched her curiously, awaiting her words.

"After your sister is born, we will be moving back into the palace, where it is safe… from any hawks."

"That is understandable."

"Do you not want to know the reason?"

"I presume it is because she could be a target, given your social standings."

Hubert narrowed his eyes. Bizarre to think that the boy had a higher status than either of them. Technically a Prince, by blood, next in line to the throne of the Adrestian Empire. That little secret wouldn't see the light of day, not if he could help it.

"Not quite…" Byleth replied.

Hubert's eyes wandered over her caring smile and he felt the cold lessen. He listened to their conversation, sights meandering back to the birds in the nest. Enjoying the afterglow of his darling wife's radiance.

"Dare I ask?" Sam asked.

"This must stay between us, and your father," she warned, voice falling to a whisper. "Your sister… she is likely a new vessel for the goddess, much like I once was. How much of Sothis remains is unclear… but she will likely need your protection. Can I count on you to do that?"

"Of course, I -" his words halted, and he whimpered with pain. A sound Hubert had never heard escape him before.

"Sam! Are you alright?!" Byleth panicked.

"It's... that damned buzzing… it will not cease," he replied, shaking as he held his head, falling to one knee.

"Buzzing?" Byleth whispered as if she had just realised something.

Samael then stopped shaking.

There was silence, only disturbed by the patter of snowfall.

Hubert exhaled in relief at his quick recovery, but his stomach dropped to the ground when the boy raised his head.

Those eyes.

No longer that nebulous colour of lavender: they were white as the snow, opaque and without pupils. Byleth had noticed it too, she was on her knees by his side, clutching his arms, an expression he could only describe as confusion and concern.

He knew for a fact Samael wasn't one of those imposters - this was something different, something entirely new. Hubert moved to close the distance, but before he managed to reach out and pull Byleth away, a flair of violet magic ignited in the boy's hands – throwing Hubert back in an explosion of Miasma.

His sights were blanched, and his ears rang, the breath knocked from his lungs. He heard her call his name. He struggled through the shallow, painful breaths, thickened by the smell of his own burns, desperately trying to right his shaking body. He tried to steady his blurred sights upon his wife, unable to coordinate his shocked limbs into action.

To his horror, there as a flash of warp magic.

There was no time to react.

They were gone.