Author's Note: Fun (maybe) fact: I got Three Houses only because I saw Claude in the trailer and some of cutscenes and thought he was hella hot. For real, that was the only reason. And I was a hardcore Claude fan (you bet I played Golden Deer first and S-leveled that motherfucker) until I later played as Blue Lions. Next thing I know, my world gets flipped turned upside down by Dedue, and even now I still have no idea why. Or maybe it's because he's a sweet, stoic hunk, and that will never not be attractive.

Got the game for Claude, stayed for Dedue.

Also, I loved the little 'where are they now' descriptions that the game gives at the very end—mostly because they planted the seeds of further storytelling in my head when I read through them all. So boy howdy, let me throw my headphones on and tell you a story of post-war Fódlan.

Anyway, feedback is always welcomed and is a huge source of motivation for me, so don't hesitate to post a review or shoot over a PM if you're enjoying the story!

"Don't. The people need you."

She uttered it softly when she saw him turn from the corner of her eye—back towards the throne room. Her hand flew out and gently grasped his gloved one. She watched him look at her. That single azure eye, and the question it held within, told her that he—the King of Faerghus—was faltering. That once again he needed the guidance of his professor.

And like all the times before, she would not let him down. A stoic dip of her head told him to move on—to leave the emperor of the defeated Adrestian Empire where she lay. A squeeze of his hand—get ready, it implored him. And then, with her other hand, Nadine pushed the palace door open. Sunlight cut like a blade over them, bathing the two with the blinding view of a new nation. Cheers reached their ears—of soldiers rallying for the end of long, gruesome fights. Of citizens celebrating the end of war-torn heartache. She let him go.

And he, King Dimitri of the united nation of Faerghus, stepped out to meet them.

"Are you sure?"

"This is the most sure I've been since being crowned," was the response. "With Lady Rhea having chosen to step down as archbishop of the Church, there is none other who can replace her. And I have no doubt that she will wholeheartedly support this decision. Unless you've a better suggestion?" Dimitri's inquiry was met with silence at the table. "If there are no objections, then I declare my decision to be final."

"I… see." The cardinal turned to look at the pale green-haired woman at the opposite end of the table. "And does the nominee approve of this election?"

Dimitri's gaze fell on her as well. "Professor?"

Nadine's eyes swept across the table. Funny—until now, she thought she had been ready to answer. But now… "I ask the Council to give me 24 hours to deliberate."

She avoided Dimitri's eye. There was a pause, and then she heard him say, "Very well. We will reconvene at this same time tomorrow. Council is dismissed."

A cacophony of scraping chair legs followed his words. Nadine heard mumbles—the speculations of cardinals spoken in hushed tones to one another. Her ears were not sharp enough to catch the exact words, though she was certain they were criticizing her response to the king.

Let them whisper. She had long since grown accustomed to the sound.

Nadine was among the first to leave the council chambers. Her understanding of Fhirdiad palace's layout was still new, although she knew an exit was bound to be at the end of one of these hallways. Her steps echoed against the immaculate stonework.

It was the middle of Red Wolf Moon, meaning that the skies above Fhirdiad would be cloudy and the air would hold a chill. Faerghus was cold in general, but the winter months turned that nip into a bite. Still, she needed the open air. It would help her think about the heavy decision that had been given to her.

It should have been easy. She was more than ready. But being archbishop meant that she would be away from…

The sun was already starting to set, although cloaked behind clouds, it was nothing more than a dim glow. The courtyard garden was already dark, barely lit by the pavilion lanterns. Frostiness lingered in the air, clinging to whatever bare skin it could touch. She wrapped her arms over herself, fingers clinging over the cold skin. Walking underneath the nearest pavilion, Nadine sat down.

Somewhere in the distance, a wind chime tinkled its lazy tune. It wouldn't be long before the biting winds of Ethereal Moon would liven up its song. Nadine's gaze fell upon the shrubbery that bordered the pavilion. Its dark leaves were dotted with snow-white blossoms. She wondered if they were to die with the coming of the ice.

"You are shivering," a deep voice noted, its enunciation soft.

"No I'm not. Trick of the light." Though when she looked, he was already taking off his coat.

"The capital gets cold this time of year," Dedue said as he draped it around her shoulders. "It would not do if you were to fall ill at such a monumental time."

Her hands rose to pull the coat tighter around her. Immediately, it had surrounded her with a woody scent. And that of cloves—likely picked up from his time in the kitchen. It was a comforting smell. The last time she had smelled it so strongly, the chandeliers had twinkled overhead while the orchestra's songs allured the ball goers to pair up and dance to the melody. In those days, she recalled how—.

Stop, came the internal voice that she had trained to intervene whenever such thoughts came. And it did the trick. Nadine broke from her intrusive thoughts, taking a deep breath as she sat back and broke her gaze away from the white blossoms. There was no point in thinking back on happy memories that only brought upon sadness.

"The capital is always cold," she retorted. The bench creaked as Dedue took a seat next to her.

"Forgive me if I am out of line," he said, "but I must ask—what happened in the meeting with the cardinals that troubles you so?"

Nadine leaned back, letting out a heavy breath that escaped from her mouth in a puff of white. "Well," she began, "your king asked me to become the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros."

"That is not unexpected."

"I suppose. It was inevitable the moment Lady Rhea stepped down." Nadine turned her head, once again finding her eyes drawn to the white flowers.

"Do you not wish to become archbishop?"

"You know, I had reservations about leading the Kingdom army against the Empire too. And if I'm being really honest, I wouldn't have even become a professor at Garreg Mach had Lady Rhea given me a choice."

A pause met her heavy words, one that stretched for so long that Nadine began wondering if maybe she should not have said anything. Then…

"I'm surprised to hear that. You fit the roles so naturally."

Nadine scoffed, a sound sharp and sudden enough to startle her companion into giving her a quick look. "That's it, isn't it?" she said. "That's the secret of a good leader—one who fears letting the people down. And so they strive and strive. One day they realize how tired they are." Nadine offered a small smile, shifting in her seat. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be such a downer."

"Voice your grievances," Dedue insisted. "I do not mind."

"No," Nadine insisted, crossing her arms tightly over her chest to bundle the warmth in. "I'll spare your ears."

"If you do not mind my asking, what had you envisioned for yourself after the war?"

"Oh," Nadine breathed in a drawn-out sigh, "Let me think. After the war… I don't know. I would… I would just disappear."

"… Disappear?"

"Yes. If I had the choice. I know it's a selfish when so many people still need me. But being so important—it's exhausting. During the war, the only reason I could keep going on was because of all those who supported me. The soldiers. The lords. The Church." She turned her head towards Dedue and suddenly gave him a playful bump with her shoulder. "My students. I'll never forget the day we reunited at Garreg Mach. You were all there for me, and you all stayed with me until the very end."

"That has not changed."

"Has it not? Everyone is going their separate ways. Even us." Nadine turned, and for the first time that night, they met eyes. "If I become archbishop, I'll go to Garreg Mach. You'll stay here in the capital to serve the king. No more nights like these under the pavilion." Then, in a halfhearted attempt to lighten the mood, Nadine added, "But at least I'll get away from this cold."

"I will admit, it will pain me to see you go."

"Oh, don't start getting all soft on me."

"For what it is worth, I think you will be a great archbishop."

Nadine swallowed heavily. The burning seeped up until it reached the back of her eyes, and she blinked to ward the bleariness away. "I don't mean to sound like a braggart," she said cheerily, "but I think you're right."

Dedue chuckled—a rarity.

Nadine looked away, once again letting her gaze settle on the white blossoms that lingered just outside the railing. "You think they'll be okay when the snow starts falling?" she asked. "These little ones here?"

"Those are Moondrops. They are quite common across northern Faerghus."

"So they'll be fine?"

"When snow blankets the earth and the other flowers fade, they will be more than fine. They will flourish." Dedue stood. "But we are not like them. Let us head inside."

Nadine's eyes suddenly widened with realization. "And here I was—making you sit out here in the cold with no coat!"

"I was not discomforted at all. Please, keep it on until we have returned indoors."

"Oh, don't act like a hero!" Nadine chided. "Fine, I'll keep it on, but we are going to chop, chop!" To emphasize her point, she grabbed Dedue by the crook of his arm and dragged him out from the pavilion. While they made their way across the garden, Nadine didn't realize that despite the frosty air, her companion's face had actually grown quite warm.

They stepped inside, where the stonework kept the temperature just a bearable few degrees higher. Nadine sighed at the blessed warmth, letting go of Dedue's arm. She started down the hall.

"The guest chambers are this way."

"Ah," Nadine said. "Right." As she followed, she continued, "This palace really is just a grandiose maze to the uninitiated. Yesterday I was half an hour late to a meeting because I couldn't find the room. Hey—don't you want your coat back?"

"I would not have you wandering these cold hallways for another half hour, so until I see you returned to your chambers, you may keep it on."

There he went again—being the overbearingly protective person she had always known him to be, although she was more accustomed to him focusing his energy on Dimitri. They had fought in plenty of battles together, so he knew as well as any of Nadine's comrades that she wasn't made of glass. Still, she couldn't help but find the sentiment sweet.

"Here we are."

"Yeah, at last a familiar part of the palace." Nadine stopped in front of her door, shrugging the coat off. "Here—and don't you dare think about leaving without it." Dedue, seeing no other reason to insist, took it back.

"Thank you. Have a good night, Professor."

"Starting tomorrow, you won't be calling me that anymore."

"Does that mean…?"

"I think talking with you really settled my mind," Nadine said. "I'm grateful, really."

"It was nothing. I look forward to when I will be addressing you as Archbishop." Dedue made to turn away when Nadine quickly spoke up.

"About that—even when I take up Lady Rhea's place… I wouldn't mind if you addressed me by my name."

As expected, her words were met with shock, though she still wasn't quite used to seeing emotion on that face of his. "If… if that is what you wish…"

"Ease up. I'm not asking you to murder someone," Nadine assured. "I know it's an unorthodox request, but I don't want this to separate us." Her hand rose up, resting against the polished wood of the doorframe. "Lady Rhea once told me the role of archbishop is a lonely one. I can't stand to watch anyone else drift away."

Movement drew her eyes up. Nadine realized that Dedue had taken a step towards her. And then he froze. As though to hide his actions, he turned his shoulders away. "I… will not let that happen. Good night." His final parting words were quick, as were his steps that carried him away.

Refusing to watch him leave, Nadine quickly opened the door to her guest chambers and stepped through. There she went again, saying too much. It had probably made him uncomfortable. Damn it.

She figured she ought to pack and distract her mind. Her days in Fhirdiad were limited—it wouldn't be long before she would be called to Garreg Mach. But when she opened her suitcase, it's bare insides made her feel just as hollow.

Nadine took a deep breath, her gaze drifting over to the blackened window. "Moondrops flourish in the snow," she quietly reminded herself.

It was final. Now that she had aired her decision to the cardinals, Nadine felt as though a burden had been lifted and she was going to enjoy this brief moment of respite before another, heavier one was set upon her.

Dimitri had persuaded her to stay another night, as a feast was being thrown to celebrate Margrave Gautier's 55th birthday. The moon and her ensemble of stars gathered high in the sky, yet the festivities showed no sign of slowing. Nadine, never one to appreciate merrymaking in large doses, had refilled her goblet with wine and surreptitiously stolen away from the banquet hall.

The hours past had been filled with her attempting to help herself to the gorgeous food in between abiding the constant requests to dance by various gentlemen she had never met before. In fact, aside from Dimitri and the Margrave, Nadine hadn't seen a single familiar face that night. Her company had been filled with strange faces—people who were apparently important in some way. Then there were the lords that had ruthlessly courted her as though she were some doe-eyed maiden and not the former commander of the Kingdom army—oh, not to mention the soon-to-be archbishop.

Well, no one else knew about that last part aside from the king and cardinals. Everyone in the meeting had unanimously agreed to withhold the announcement until later, so as to not steal the thunder from the Margrave's birthday.

Nadine stopped by a window and gazed out. Below was a paved passageway, lined with leafy shrubs. Beyond that, the moon-kissed rooftops of Fhirdiad peeked out from behind the palace walls. It was certainly a sight one needed time to get used to, not that she wanted to anyway.

She took another sip of the dark liquid in her cup. How many was this now? Who knew? That familiar light-headedness told Nadine that she was on the verge of seeing the world spin. Well, even if she ended up pushing her limits and regretting it in the morning, it hardly mattered. That was what tonight was about—and besides, once she became archbishop, who knew when she would be able to drink like this again?

Footsteps. Nadine tilted her head only slightly towards the sound. Catching sight of the flame-red hair, her eyes returned to the window as her goblet was lifted to her lips. After another drink, she said, "You're going to be margrave before you know it. And then this habit of following women around at night won't be very comely of you."

"So you're saying I should enjoy it while I can?" Sylvain jested in response. A glare from Nadine prompted him to raise a defensive hand. "Hey, hey, only joking. Again. Which you never seem to get. And relax—the title of Margrave isn't headed my way any time soon. My old man's still got at least a few more years in him."

"Speaking of which, I didn't see you in the banquet hall."

"Ah, that was probably because I was being obscured by the massive crowd of girls around me."

"As if!" another voice scoffed. Maybe it was the wine, but Nadine had been slow in realizing that Sylvain wasn't alone. Ingrid was almost unrecognizable with her hair down from its usual braids and from the lacy blouse she wore. "You were buttering up some older lady! Honestly, Sylvain, have you no shame?"

"Ouch, Ingrid. Can't you leave me to enjoy my night in peace?"

"Not when you're so determined to act a complete fool of yourself!"

Here they went again. Nadine helped herself to more wine while they quarreled.

"Alright, Ingrid—let's cool it in front of the Professor. She hasn't got long before she sets out for Garreg Mach. Isn't that right… Archbishop?"

Nadine nearly choked on her wine. "Did you just—?"

"Call you Archbishop? You bet I did. Maybe you ought to ease up on the wine, Professor."

"How did you know?"

Sylvain shot Nadine a wink and hooked his thumbs into his belt. "During the banquet, that lady that I was—as Ingrid put it—buttering up, was one of the cardinals. Hey, call me curious, but I heard rumors that there was something important involving you happening and I had to know. Can you blame me?"

"Yes!" Nadine snapped. "Yes I can! Sylvain, no one was supposed to know yet! I can't believe you would just—!"

"Actually," Ingrid interjected sheepishly, "I knew too." Both Sylvain and Nadine turned to her. "Dimitri told me."

"Dimitri?"

"Are you saying Dimitri just up and told you; meanwhile I had to resort to deception—and my disarmingly good looks—to find out?"

"This was big news, and can you blame him for being unable to keep it to himself? You were his professor too, you know. I think he just needed to talk to someone about it—he looked a little sad when he told me. Besides, he knew I wouldn't go blabbing." Ingrid shot Sylvain a glare.

Nadine followed suit. "Who else did you tell?" she demanded.

"No one!" Sylvain defended quickly. "Well… except maybe Mercedes. And Felix. Ha! You should have seen him, Professor! I thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head!"

Nadine pinched the bridge of her nose. Her gaze was down on her cup—which, unfortunately, was disturbingly low on wine. "So I guess at this point everyone knows?"

"Nah, just the handful of us. Don't worry, you're not going to take the night away from my pops. He's living it up in the banquet hall… although I think he's going to need a servant or two to help him back to the carriage by the end of the night."

"Anyway," Ingrid said, "what Sylvain and I really came here to say is this: we couldn't be more proud of you, Professor. It's crazy to look back and see how far we've come. When you think about it, it's a little bittersweet."

"No need to get all sentimental, Ingrid," Sylvain said. "We've got a bond that outlived five years of war. No way some measly little distance between Fhirdiad and Garreg Mach is going to be the end of it. Am I right, Professor?"

"You are," Nadine replied. "Don't worry—I know our days in the academy and in the war have ended, but you should embrace it. Change begets growth. And you both should know that you're both more than welcome to come visit me at the monastery."

"You sound like you're already saying your farewells," Ingrid noted sadly.

"Well, I leave first thing in the morning."

"That's… much sooner than I thought. I guess with the Church currently leaderless, they're eager to get you enthroned as soon as possible, huh?" Sylvain remarked. "Still, I thought we'd have a few more days."

"Nothing good ever lasts, Sylvain," Nadine said, lifting her goblet and giving it a useless swirl. "Otherwise there'd still be wine in here."

"Yeesh. But might as well go all out before the appointment becomes official. Shall we return to the banquet?"

"No, I think I should be turning in. Early start tomorrow, and now that I think about it, it probably isn't the smartest move to embark on my cross-continental journey while hung over. But don't let this old woman stop you two—go enjoy the rest of the festivities."

"Alright… you gonna hang onto that goblet or…?"

Nadine quickly clutched it to her chest. "I was thinking about keeping it as a souvenir, why?" she joked. Then, holding it out, she said, "Do you mind?"

Sylvain took the goblet. "Not at all, m'lady."

Nadine's eyes fell on Ingrid. "Punch him for me, won't you?" she asked. "As Archbishop, I don't think it'll be very proper of me to wallop Faerghus's lords… even if they do deserve it."

"Gladly," Ingrid smirked, shooting her fiery-haired companion a dark grin.

"Hey, whoa, I'll behave."

"I'll hold you to that," Ingrid said. The two of them were already starting to head back to the banquet hall. "Especially seeing as how we're about to return to the crowds."

"Good—more people means you'll be less likely to see what I'm up to."

Voices were already bouncing off the stonework—the sound of parties always had a way of traveling through the Fhirdiad palace like wildfire across parched plains. As Ingrid walked, a thought suddenly came to her.

"Hey… this is going to sound a little crazy, but what if we went to Garreg Mach with the Professor? I don't know about you, but I'd love to be there for her enthronement. Once we get back to the banquet, we can find the other Blue Lions and try to get them on board—maybe even Dimitri. Do you know if Ashe is h—Sylvain? Sylvain!" When she had turned, the young woman found herself quite alone. With a forceful huff, Ingrid stomped her foot down.

"Unbelievable! Not even a minute and…!"

He liked to call it his Gautier hunch—that little sixth sense of his that never steered him wrong… except when it came to girls. But tonight, his little hunch did right by him and led Sylvain to the Chanel Courtyard, which connected the palace's east and west wings. A lantern had been set on the cobbled walkway next to a line of short hedges, and beside it was a tall figure draping canvas sheets over the hedges.

"You know, as the king's vassal, you're allowed to attend the banquet. You don't need to keep treating yourself like an outsider, and I'm sure my father wouldn't mind. Come on, Dedue, the gardeners can take care of that stuff in the morning."

"Can you not feel the chill coming on? It is going to be especially cold tonight, and this shrubbery is likely to wilt by the time the gardeners get to it," Dedue replied, placing stones on the corners of the canvas sheets to weigh them down. "Besides, I'm not fond of loud gatherings."

"Well, can't say I'd prefer the company of flowers… unless by flowers, you mean pretty ladies. Say, when was the last time you were part of something like this? Don't tell me… it couldn't possibly be that ball from back when we were students?"

"We had a celebration after reclaiming Fhirdiad."

"Oh, that's right. That was the calm before a much bigger storm, so can you blame me for letting it slip from my mind?" Sylvain watched as Dedue unfolded another sheet. "Here, let me help with that."

"My thanks."

Together, the two of them wrapped the next length of hedges underneath the protective canvas. Sylvain crouched, feeling around in the dirt for a sizeable rock. There was something he really needed to get out—might as well have been now. "Don't know if you heard, but his Majesty held a meeting with the cardinals earlier today."

"I am aware."

"You wouldn't have happened to hear what was discussed in the meeting, would you?"

"All I have heard from his Majesty is that the matters will be kept secret for now. I would never try to convince him to act dishonorably."

"Right, right." Sylvain's fingers closed over an apple-sized rock. He patted the edge of the canvas sheet to flatten it and placed the stone down. "That's funny, because the thing is, a little birdie—." Cardinal, ha. "—told me that the meeting was about the Professor." Sylvain paused dramatically, hoping to get a reaction out of the stoic man. To his dissatisfaction, his words didn't seem to affect Dedue at all. "More specifically, I heard the cardinals all unanimously agreed to appoint her as the next archbishop."

"Yes, I know."

At that, Sylvain sprang to his feet. "The hell? How does everyone else know?" he cried. "Did Dimitri tell you too?"

"King Dimitri," Dedue corrected. "And no, he did not. As I said, I would never make his Majesty go against his word."

"Then how?"

"The Professor told me."

"The Professor, huh?" Sylvain remarked. Oh, that's right. Back to the thing he wanted to talk about. "Did she also tell you that she's leaving tomorrow?"

"… No."

"And I suppose you haven't told her, have you?"

Dedue froze. Aha, there it was! That reaction Sylvain had been vying for! "I don't know what you are talking about." Although from the look on his face, illuminated by the dim glow of the lantern between them, it was clear that Dedue knew exactly what Sylvain was referring to.

"Oh, come on, big guy. I think you do." Sylvain gave his temple a couple of quick taps. "This head of mine—it's like a steel trap. And it hasn't forgotten what you confided in me six years ago."

"I… that was…"

It was getting late, and he'd already promised a girl that he was going to take her out for dinner. But apparently that excuse didn't fly with the Professor, who had slapped a book in front of him along with a quill and a few pieces of parchment. He'd been assigned an impromptu paper due to all of his missed classes. "And the ones you've slept through," the Professor had added.

"Aw, come on, Professor! I've got plans tonight—please! Promise to do this tomorrow night instead? Or… unless I take you out to dinner tomorrow?"

The Professor flashed him a look, somewhere in between disbelief and amusement at his attempt to bribe her. "Is that the best you've got?" she retorted. Then, she jabbed a finger at the book before walking around his desk. Sylvain heard the classroom door close behind him. Finally alone, he let the miserable groan he had been holding out into the open air.

Man, what was it about the women who resisted his advances that made them especially attractive? It just wasn't fair.

Sylvain pulled the book closer to him and read its front cover with bored, drooped eyes. A History of Ceramic Arts in Fódlan? Oh come on, Professor! This at least could have been some exciting war memoir!

Yeah, no. There was no way he was going to get through this book and live to tell the tale. With a dismissive push, Sylvain shoved the damned thing away from him, folded his arms over the empty space, and laid his head down. What he was actually going to do was take a nap and then make something up for the essay. Pots, plates, little creepy elf figurines, yada yada. Besides, he was certain that the Professor would be too busy to actually read through it.

He was on the verge of drifting off when footsteps shook him awake. Shit! Better look busy! Sylvain quickly sat up. He grabbed the book, opened to a random page, and pulled it close. As he pretended to read, he spoke out, "You're quick to check back in—do you really not trust me?"

"I assume that was meant for the Professor," a deep, male voice responded.

Sylvain looked over his shoulder. "Ah, Dedue! This is… unexpected. Did you forget something?" But instead of walking to his own desk, Dedue pulled out the chair that was next to Sylvain and sat down.

"No, I came here to talk to you."

"Okay, well now that's really unexpected. I feel like you've been avoiding me these past few days." Suddenly, Sylvain leaned towards Dedue. "Did the Professor send you here to tell me that I don't have to write this stupid thing?"

"No."

"Damn. Worth a try."

"This assignment is a consequence of your own actions," Dedue said. "Everyone who hails from the Kingdom is here so that we may better serve the crown of Faerghus—honestly, Sylvain, have you no sense of duty?"

"Eh, when I'm only being groomed to be House Gautier's glorified Crest-bearer, I find the motivation hard to come by. Say… if you're free tonight, what say you to doing this paper for me?"

"No."

"Come on! I'll pay you?"

A look of disgust washed over Dedue's face. "Do you really think that lowly of me?"

"No I—!" Sylvain stammered, just now realizing the implications of his words. "Crap, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that—honest. You know what, forget I said anything." With a sigh, he continued, "So anyway, you said you wanted to talk to me? Because it really feels like you just came here to scold me."

"Well… I…" Sylvain had never seen Dedue look so uncomfortable. Normally, the guy hardly showed any emotion at all. "There is… a problem."

"Seems pretty serious if it's got you all riled up like this."

"Something like that. And I wanted to ask for your advice."

"My advice? Tonight's just one surprise after another, isn't it?"

"I am being serious, Sylvain. I did not know what else to do."

"Alright then. Lay it on me."

"I…" Dedue paused again. Sylvain, antsy with impatience, picked up his quill and frantically rolled it between his fingers as he waited for the words to eke out. "I have… grown… fond of… someone."

"Ah!" Sylvain suddenly cried out. His outburst seemed to startle Dedue, as he gave the smallest of flinches. "Are you for real? Ha! No wonder you came to me—you needed the expert of experts!"

"Please keep your voice down." It was hard to tell because of his dark skin tone, but Sylvain could have sworn that Dedue was blushing fiercely.

"Who'd be hanging around the classrooms at this hour? So tell me—who's the lucky lady?"

"I… cannot say."

"Come on, Dedue! Don't give me that! You can't tell me that you've got the hots for someone, then turn around and get all tight-lipped!"

"Then I shouldn't have said anything. I think it's time for me to go."

"Hey—HEY! No!" Sylvain reached out and grabbed Dedue's arm before he could stand. "You came to me for help, and I'm gonna help you out, buddy. Seriously, talk to me." But Dedue still looked reluctant, so Sylvain continued, "Then I'll guess, and you gotta tell me if I guess right. Now let me think…" He tapped the frilly end of the quill against his chin. "Annette? She's pretty cute—although she spends too much time with her nose stuck in a book."

There was a sigh. "No."

"Huh… what about Flayn? I've noticed you and her hang out a lot now… Although you're treading on thin ice if Seteth finds out."

"No. She has merely requested that I help her improve her cooking."

"No? I was pretty sure I was onto something there. It can't be Ingrid—she may have softened up to you since you two first met, but I can't picture it happening. Er… no offense."

"None taken. And no, it is not her."

"Mercedes?"

"She and I are friends, but I do not think of her that way."

"At this point I'm just going through all the girls in our house. Now what if—and I'm just messing with you—but what if I guess the Professor, huh? No way, right? … Dedue? Dedue. Hey, look at me. Why are you getting all… hold on, you can't possibly be ser—."

"I should go. You need to work on your assignment." The chair legs scraped loudly. Dedue even forgot to push it in, too preoccupied with trying to vacate the room as quickly as possible.

"I… that was… that was a long time ago." In the distance, crickets chirped through the darkness, and the sounds of the banquet could be heard spilling out from the windows.

"Yeah, but I know you. You're the kind of person to catch feelings and hold onto them like they were your last breath. Not like me," Sylvain added with a curt, dry laugh. "But times are different now. We're survivors of the war, free to forge our own paths. There's no reason to hesitate anymore. You ought to know that an arrow that doesn't get shot never hits its target."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You confided in me. I feel like I'm an accomplice to all this now," Sylvain chuckled. "But in all seriousness, the Professor means a lot to me. To all of us. I just want to see her happy. Can I tell you something?"

"What is it?"

"Five years after the war began, we all found ourselves drawn to the monastery. That's where we found the Professor. And that's when Dimitri told us the truth about you—or what he believed was true at the time. He said you were dead. And if you had been able to see the look on the Professor's face after she heard that, you wouldn't be hesitating now."

Sylvain suddenly threw his hands up in a shrug. "But that's just a little bit of insight coming from the son of a lord that's currently getting drunk off his horse inside the palace. Anyways, I'm going to head back in and find a pretty face to steal away with. Oh—do me a favor," he added, pointing back at Dedue. "If Ingrid comes out looking for me, I was never here."

Addendum: By the way, if you had an end-of-game pairing you were particularly fond of, or one you wished you could see happen, let me know in a PM or review and there's a good chance I'll incorporate it into the story if someone hasn't called dibs already. Obviously, Chef Deddles is off-limits.