Minutes were ticking by. Eventually she would have to get up—but it had already been an effort just to sit up in bed. Nadine sat with her hands dropped in her lap. The drowsiness was so strong it made her head throb, and it almost physically hurt to keep her eyes open.

How much sleep did she get this time? Nadine didn't even want to think about it, although she barely could in her state. But eventually, she would have to get up. Today would be another filled with interviews—they were currently in the midst of searching for capable professors for the renewed Officers Academy. Hanneman had retired from his teaching position to focus on his research. With him, Jeritza—not to mention Nadine herself—all off the teaching roster, the Church found itself in dire need of finding new faculty if it was ever to reopen the Academy.

But good professors were hard to come by. Nadine and Seteth had found themselves conducting interview after interview with fruitless results to show for their efforts. The search would need to continue, and that meant there was no time to loiter in bed.

Nadine let out a long, drawn-out yawn. I'll grab some coffee from the dining hall, she promised herself. Although she was not very fond of the bitter drink, she had found herself depending more and more on its ability to keep her awake.

Finally, she threw her covers aside. Goosebumps crawled across her skin as the sheltering warmth of the blanket curtly gave way to chilly morning air. Nadine quickly crossed the room to her wardrobe. She pulled the nightgown over her head and threw it backwards onto the bed. The archbishop's robes were donned in the nightgown's place. On her way out of the room, Nadine paused just long enough by the vanity to swipe up the hairbrush and give her tussled locks a few sweep-throughs. Then, she set it down and headed out.

The newborn sunrise was just peeking over the horizon when Nadine walked out across the monastery grounds. She made her way to the dining hall, where she found a mug of coffee already waiting for her.

"Archbishop, if you would like, we could have the cup delivered up to the Audience Chamber," the kitchen matron offered as Nadine tipped milk into her coffee.

"No, it's alright. I like the walk—it helps me wake up." She gave the kitchen staff a polite nod before taking her cup to an empty seat. After sitting, she held the mug between her hands and let the steam warm her face.

Nadine's eyes drifted across the empty dining hall. It's only been what… two months? But it feels like forever. It's the repetition… that's it. Feels like I'm trapped in a looping Divine Pulse nightmare.

Nadine took a sip of her coffee. Fortunately, the milk had taken most of the bitter edge away. Is it bad that I miss the war? Goddess, Nadine, listen to yourself. Just be thankful for the peace. Death hurts—you know that. She found her gaze drifting towards the direction of the church graveyard. Even now, she still felt the sting of sorrow every time she stood before that grave.

No matter how slowly she took her time, the mug always seemed to empty too soon. Nadine stood, leaving the cup for the staff to pick up later. It was time to head up to the Audience Chamber.

But a surprise was waiting for her when she arrived. Seteth was standing in front of the closed double doors. "Ah, Archbishop," he greeted as Nadine appeared at the top of the stairwell. "Good morning."

"What is this? Is something wrong?"

"Is it so strange for me to bid you good morning?"

"It's strange to see you standing in front of closed doors like you're keeping me from getting inside the chamber. My first interview is—."

"Canceled."

Nadine paused. "Sorry? Did you say canceled?"

"Yes." Seteth's hands found their usual place behind his back as he suddenly stepped forward. Walking leisurely, he continued, "Manuela has brought up a… compelling point to me. I must say, it's strange to see our roles swapped for once. I got quite the earful for—her words—'working you to death.'"

"Oh…" Damn it. Nadine knew Manuela had only acted out of concern for her, but still! "Seteth, I pray you don't think that I—."

"Worry not," the advisor quickly assured. "I see the attesting evidence with my very eyes. Though you are now in an important role, I would never want you to sacrifice your very health for it." When he reached Nadine, Seteth stopped walking. "That is why I have canceled all interviews today. You are taking the day off."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"From an efficiency standpoint—no, it's not. But I stand by my decision. You are my archbishop, yes, but you are first and foremost my friend. I will not watch you commit yourself to misery. Come now—let's take a walk, Nadine." He continued past her and headed for the staircase.

Nadine looked over her shoulder to watch him, and then quickly turned to follow him. "How dare you show such disrespect to your archbishop," she jested as she trailed him down the stairs.

"Excommunicate me if you must," Seteth retorted fluidly.

"I would never. You do such a fine job at scheduling my meetings." She heard Seteth sigh and smirked wickedly to herself.

The air was just starting to warm a little with the sun's arrival. The prior night's chill had dampened just a little under the sky's soft glow. Side-by-side, the two of them walked towards one of the monastery's many small gardens. "It is quite the blessing that Garreg Mach's beauty is difficult to grow accustomed to," Seteth remarked as they passed a wall decorated with streaks of climbing, leafy vines. Nadine couldn't help but notice his tone—that of someone attempting to hide pressing matters with small talk.

"It is," she agreed simply.

Seteth hesitated, and then gestured towards a bench that was positioned next to a tall hedge. "Let's sit," he suggested. They did. The bench had them looking towards a pavilion at the center of the garden. Creeping thyme covered its roof, dripping in soft wisps over the edge.

"Thank you," Nadine said, first to break the silence, "for looking after me."

"Think nothing of it," Seteth replied. "I feel I am partially to blame—have you felt as though I've been pushing you?"

"No," Nadine said. "The only person who has driven me this hard is myself. I…" As guilt gripped her, the rest of her words dissolved into a sigh. Then, she found them again. "I can't let everyone down again."

"Again?" Seteth looked at her. Nadine saw understanding fill his eyes. He sat back, his gaze returning forward. "I cannot imagine how it must've felt to wake up to a war that had been five years in the making. I know your consciousness beseeches you to think this way, but you must understand that you did not abandon anyone. You fell. Your body put you to slumber to save yourself. What happened after that was wholly out of your control."

"But—."

"Had it not happened that way, you would have died. You would have never returned to us—to your students. Then imagine how much longer the war would have dragged on… how many more lives would have been lost." The folding of Seteth's arms caused a soft rustle from his crisp, dark robes. "Apologies, Nadine, I did not mean to—."

"No, it's good that you keep me tethered to reality. I need that."

"In a way, you remind me of the king," Seteth remarked. "He has a large heart—both a virtue and a curse, for it also boasts a voice just as large. It was a voice that drove him to temporary madness for most of his life. Truly, he is fortunate that you were able to quiet it down."

"He silenced it on his own," Nadine corrected. "I only showed him how." Turning towards her companion, she remarked, "You're quite observant, Seteth. I dare say there's very little about a person's soul that can hide from you."

"That… is an overstatement," Seteth defended. "But when you have seen things for as long as I have, you learn to recognize the patterns. That is all."

"Sure, I look forward to the day I can peer directly into souls once I'm a billion jillion years old too."

"I do not peer directly into souls. And I'm not—!" Frustration cut off the rest of Seteth's words as he refused to acknowledge the rest of Nadine's tease. She let out a sudden burst of laughter, quickly covering her mouth and hoping the sound hadn't traveled far. The corners of Seteth's mouth twitched, though he obstinately kept it in a firm line.

"I needed that. I really did," Nadine said, her voice still bubbly as she fought down the rest of her laughter.

"It's been a long time since I heard you laugh."

"Really?" Nadine paused as she tried to recount when she had last felt this way. Damn…

"Nadine, I would like to ask you something. I hope you trust me enough to answer honestly."

"Go ahead. I won't hide anything from you." As soon as she said them, Nadine wondered if she would regret her words.

"Do you no longer wish to be the archbishop?"

Quickly, Nadine looked at Seteth. Coolly, he returned her gaze. "What do you mean?"

"I cannot help but notice that you seem… pardon my brashness, but miserable. Worse than when we were still at war. It makes me wonder if perhaps you regret your decision to become the archbishop."

"I have no plans to resign, if that's what worries you," Nadine replied. "I can't. And no, it's not being the archbishop that troubles me." She sat back, her eyes dropping to the grass in front of them. "It's what happened as a result. I feel as though… I've lost everyone."

"Ah." Seteth's voice was soft. "Their paths have led them all away from Garreg Mach. Surely you must have known this was inevitable."

"I know. So is death, but it still hurts us so."

"Quite true." Seteth sighed, his gaze drifting up to the pale blue sky. "You will move on, Nadine. Pain lessens—it always does."

"How did it feel," Nadine suddenly asked in a quiet voice, "when you learned that the Nabateans had been massacred?"

There was a long pause. She heard Seteth take a deep breath. "I felt lost," he said. "For the longest time, I felt unable to comprehend their deaths. Then, when I finally could, I felt as though my very identity had died with them. It took a very long time to feel whole again."

"If you had the chance, would you bring them back?"

Seteth gave an uneasy laugh. "That's a very weighted question," he admitted. "I… I am actually not sure. I miss my people dearly—this much is true. However…"

Nadine heard the soft crunching of grass underfoot. She turned her head towards the noise. Seteth did as well. When he noticed that the two adults had noticed him, the boy quickly froze like a startled fawn.

"Cefiro?" Nadine said, sitting up. "I didn't realize you were still at the monastery."

"I'm sorry if I've interrupted," Cefiro apologized sheepishly.

Nadine stood. "No, not at all!" she assured, crossing the short distance between them. She crouched down, bringing herself closer to the boy's level. "Did you come to pay me a visit?"

"I heard what I thought was your voice," Cefiro admitted.

"Well you were right. And you found me." She offered the boy a gentle smile. Then, she glanced over her shoulder. Rising to her feet, she said, "Seteth, this is Cefiro. He and his master are visiting from the Eastern Church." Turning back, she continued, "Cefiro, this is my friend Seteth… Well, my other friend Seteth." Nadine reached out and playfully ruffled the boy's hair.

She suddenly noticed that Cefiro looked uneasy. Nadine looked back and realized that Seteth hadn't said a word—not even a 'hello.' Instead, the green-haired man was staring at the boy with a strange expression. It seemed to be a mix of disbelief and confusion.

"Seteth?"

The man blinked, and quickly the look disappeared. "Oh, my apologies," he said. Standing, he walked over to Cefiro and extended a friendly hand. "It is a delight to meet you, son. I see you've already become well-acquainted with the Archbishop."

Cefiro shook Seteth's hand. "Yes sir. She's my friend."

"Is that so?" Seteth glanced at Nadine, who returned with a casual shrug. "Well, Archbishop, I will take this as my cue to return to my work. Remember—take it easy today." He glanced back down at the boy. "Good day to you, Cefiro." With that, he passed the both of them.

"What did he mean by 'take it easy'?" Cefiro asked curiously.

"He has me taking the day off," Nadine clarified. "No work for me today—doctor's orders."

"Oh…" Cefiro peeped softly.

"Is something the matter?"

"It's just… Master Zephyr was going to speak to you," Cefiro said. "He heard that the monastery is looking for professors and wanted to apply."

"Well!" Nadine exclaimed. "I have to say, this master of yours piques my interest. I'd be more than happy to sit down with him tomorrow. As for now… I think I'm going back to my room to take a nap."

There was something strange going on, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. It felt as if he was drifting, though his feet were planted firmly on the ground. It was a strange feeling indeed.

Of course, he didn't realize that he was dreaming.

The cold told him that it was Ethereal Moon. Granted, it was always cold in Faerghus, although… he wasn't in the Kingdom this time. Oh, that's right. He was at the Academy. Tonight was the night of the ball, though he had chosen the cold over the music and twinkling lights of the ballroom. He figured he could leave Dimitri alone just this once, and to be honest he was never one for dancing.

And, well, one other thing had driven him to leave the ballroom. There had been a face missing amidst the gathering. Earlier that night, he had seen her waltzing with partner after partner across the ballroom floor. It made him wonder if perhaps she would accept a dance with him, though he knew he would never have the courage to ask her. But now it seemed that she'd had her fill of the dance floor and stolen away.

He had stepped out into the courtyard, intending to head back to his room. But as he crossed the grass, he suddenly spotted a couple. Believing that their privacy was still intact, they were entangled and kissing quite passionately.

No, he would not be heading that direction. He turned and walked the opposite way. For some reason, it felt as though some surreal force had taken control of his feet and had them carry him towards the cathedral. Not the cathedral—the Goddess Tower beside it. There was supposedly a legend associated with it and this very night, though it wasn't really that important to him. He just wanted a place to be alone for a while.

A grand tree grew against the tower. Its thick, creeping roots and spanning branches had broken through the roof. He figured the top floor of the tower would offer a perfect view of the stars. The spiraling stairwell led him up. But as he reached the top, he realized he hadn't been the only person with that idea.

So she had come here. He remembered back to when he had watched her dance. She had seemed so inaccessible then. But now… he wondered if fate had brought the two of them here.

Her back was to him, and her head was turned up towards the gap in the roof. He hesitated. Surely she must have heard him approach, though she hadn't moved. Maybe she was waiting for him to say it.

And he did.

"Professor…" No, hadn't she wanted him to call her…? "Nadine, on the day of your enthronement there had been something I wanted to tell you, but never did. When I came to this academy with his Highness, I was prepared to be entirely insignificant. I came with the intention of only serving as a means for him to grow, while I myself remained unnoticed. But you never allowed that to happen. You did not just notice me—a scorned boy from Duscur—you believed in me, never once making me feel the insignificance I had always felt. You actual made me feel worthwhile. I… I think I fell in love with you before I even realized it myself. I loved you then, and I love you now. That is what I wanted to tell you."

He saw her lower her head. With her back still turned, she said, "Those are such beautiful words." She looked, and under the light of the moon and her stars, he saw the face he had spent years and years longing for. "Why have you left them unspoken?"

Confusion paralyzed him for a moment. "I have… I have said them to you just now, haven't I?"

"You never did. You just had me watch you drift away." She turned back and resumed gazing up through the broken roof.

"No, I am here now. Do not turn away… please. I never wanted to leave you alone. Please—." He wanted to move closer, to hold her. But as he took his first step, suddenly she vanished. So did the tower. One moment, they were there, and the next—

He was slowly blinking his eyes open. That strange feeling of drifting was gone, replaced by grogginess. And this pain in his chest—was it heartache? No, it was everywhere. All over his body, especially his shoulder.

Dedue let out a heavy exhale as the sight of the ceiling finally registered to him. He tried to move, but the pain was holding him in place like an iron cast.

"Lie still," an unfamiliar voice instructed.

"Where…?"

"The infirmary," came the curt answer. "And before you ask—yes, his Majesty is fine. You should be more worried about yourself."

Dedue gave a soft grunt. The more awake he became, the more the pain throbbed. "My shoulder…" He couldn't even turn his head to see who was talking.

"Completely shattered when the Beast bit down over your shield. My priests and I were able to restructure the bones, but they're still very brittle. The only thing that was keeping that shield up was your strength and your armor—and that didn't last very long." There was a pause. Dedue heard the rustle of objects over a table, and the soft whirring of a magical instrument. "When the Beasts's jaws closed down over you, your armor shattered like eggshells and essentially became knife shards that pierced you. Six ribs broke, too, and those became knives for a few of your organs. You were basically an amalgamation of stab wounds and shattered bones by the time you were brought to me. Anyone else would've declared you a casualty in the making, but…" Footsteps brought the speaker closer. A man's voice finally came into view over Dedue, though his face was still blurry. "I am his Majesty's head priest for a reason."

A soft glow emitted from the man's hands. Softly, they danced and reminded Dedue of when he had lain on his back in the fields of Duscur and watched the wind play with the branches of trees overhead. "I'm going to put you under again—these healing sessions are not ones you would want to be awake for. Settle your mind, Dedue. You will be fine."

After that, time seem to stretch on as fragmented segments of dreams, interrupted by moments of awakening to dull pain and muffled voices. He would hang on for as long as he could, trying to make sense of their words. But try as he might, exhaustion would always compel him to close his eyes. He would sleep, and he would dream.

Often his dreams had him climbing the steps of the Goddess Tower. Some forgotten objective drove him to reach the top where the great tree had broken through the roof. There was something he needed to do there. What was it again? Something unspoken. He would just begin to remember.

And then he would wake. Dull throbbing pain—it saturated his shoulder and climbed up the side of his neck. Every breath hurt. Muffled voices—what were they saying? But he was tired, and he needed to sleep. So he would, and he would dream.

Sometimes he would be sitting underneath a tree. It was a large, fanning tree that sat atop a hill and almost looked like a hat. Because of this, his sister would always refer to it as 'the Hat Tree.'

"And when the wind blows, the tree sways like the hill is tipping its hat to the flowers," she once told him while they sat underneath the Hat Tree. She pointed out to the hills beyond, covered completely in springtime blooms—rolling waves of color that went on for as far as the eye could see. "Like a true gentleman. Do you think he has a favorite one?"

"Perhaps," he replied. "If he does, it is a secret he keeps to himself. I think I would find it hard to pick a favorite from here—the beauty comes from seeing them all together."

"That's true," his sister said. "It always saddens me to see a flower bloom by itself." She suddenly sat up from the tree to turn to him. "But you always make more bloom around it—you're good at that. Some day, you should teach me how you speak to the flowers like that."

"I do not speak to them, Alinah. But I promise—one day I will teach you how to help them grow. After that, I doubt there will be a single flower growing on its own in Fódlan."

"I'd like that." His sister leaned back against the smooth bark of the tree. "Can you take me down there, Dedue? I'd like to pick a bouquet for the king when he comes here for his visit. Do you think they'll let me get close enough to give it to him?"

"I'm sure they will. I ought to take some flowers too for when I go meet her at the top."

"Who?"

Instead of answering, Dedue found his gaze settling towards the horizon. He was dreaming, and so he did not question how he could see the Goddess Tower in the distance.

"You should go to her." He heard the grass rustle and looked. His sister had stood and was walking down the hill.

"Alinah, wait!" He reached out towards her. She paused, looking back. "Don't go! Don't go ahead without me!"

"It's okay," his sister reassured. She smiled gently, looking patient beyond her brief years. "We'll meet up again." She looked back out towards the hills in full bloom. "I think I shall pick him blue ones," she noted softly to herself as she continued down the hill. "Blue for Faerghus."

Dedue awoke. He blinked his heavy eyes. He felt the dull pain and heard the muffled voices. This time, he didn't feel like going back to sleep. The drowsiness that had clung to his eyelids had gone, lifted like fog at sunrise.

He turned his head an inch. This time, his shoulder didn't hurt quite as much.

"How is he doing?" Even in his state, Dedue recognized Dimitri's voice.

"He is recovering," a female voice answered him. "His body has been responding well to the priests' healing."

"Has he been sleeping well?"

"After all he's been through, sleep is all he has done. Recently, though, he has begun to grow restless in his sleep. It's a good sign—his body is recovered enough to be restless."

"I see," Dimitri replied. "Yes, that is good."

"I have heard him mutter names on occasion, sounding distressed as he says them."

"Whose names?"

"Recently, I have heard 'Alinah.'"

There was a pause. "His sister. She was lost when Duscur was attacked."

"Oh… I didn't…" the nun uttered softly.

"So he's been dreaming of his family. Who else have you heard?"

"All other times, he speaks of a Nadine. More family?"

Again, there was a pause. "Not quite," Dimitri finally said. Dedue began to sorely wish he had still been asleep. "Thank you. Might I ask that we be left alone?"

"Of course, your Majesty."

Footsteps receded. There came a creak from the chair next to his bed. Dimitri let out a soft sigh. Seconds ticked by. And then the king spoke.

"How long are you planning to feign sleep, my friend? It's only me."

Dedue didn't remember Dimitri being this perceptive. "Forgive me, your Majesty. I was… not quite ready to return to the living."

"Then you'll have to forgive my impatience. Until now, every time I have come here, I've seen you lying as still as death."

"You have nothing to apologize for, your Majesty."

There was a brief lull of silence as both men found themselves with no other words to say. Dimitri's eyes swept over the room, and then declared, "Let me get you some water." He stood and walked over to a nearby table, atop which sat a pitcher. After a moment, he returned to Dedue's side with a cup in hand. "Can you sit up?"

"Yes… I think so." Slowly, Dedue lifted himself up to a sitting position with Dimitri's help. Then, he accepted the cup that was proffered to him. "Thank you." But then it hesitated in his hand. "Your Majesty, did you mean what you said outside the palace?"

"What I said?"

"That you would not let me live nor die for you."

"Every word." Dimitri sat back down into the chair. "I know you swore your life to me the day our fates crossed in Duscur. I accepted it at the time, but as we have grown closer over the years, I find myself regretting that I ever allowed you to chain yourself to me. This is no way to live, Dedue."

"Your Majesty, I…" The water within the cup quivered as Dedue's grip tightened around it. "I have been having strange dreams."

Dimitri was slightly taken aback by his response. "I can only imagine."

"I think… some part of my mind has been trying to tell me something. Perhaps it can be called a coincidence that we speak of this now, although I have long since stopped believing in coincidences." Dedue hesitated, and then found himself shocked by his next words. "I… I wish to resign from your service, your Majesty."

Silence followed. Dedue could hear the pounding of his heart even in his ears. He felt as though he had jumped from a ledge, and it was too late to turn back now.

"Ah," Dimitri said at last. "So you've finally stopped denying it, have you?"

"Your Majesty?"

Dimitri chuckled as he crossed his arms. "I told you—I like to think I know you better than most. And… well, you've been talking in your sleep recently."

"I—."

"You were never one to show your emotions, my friend. But one thing I did notice while we were at the academy was that a certain light would fill your eyes whenever we spoke of the Professor. You were also quite attentive in her lectures, and let's be honest, Dedue—none of us really liked class that much."

Dedue looked down at the cup in his hands. Within, his reflection wavered on the water's surface.

"I accept your resignation." He looked up and saw a smile on the king's face. "Your life is out there, my friend, and nothing would bring me more joy than to see you go and find it."

"I… thank you, your Majesty."

"Have you a ring?"

Dedue looked startled. "A ring?"

"Yes, I imagine you cannot go to her without one. If you have none, perhaps I can have one commissioned for you… although, I admit I wouldn't know what design to request."

"Th-that will not be necessary," Dedue insisted quickly. "You speak as though marriage is guaranteed. I am not so optimistic myself. I go with the intention of saying what I have left unspoken—what may come thereafter is unclear to me, but I will accept it regardless."

"Really? It's quite clear to me. It seemed rather obvious from our academy days that the Professor was taken with you."

Dedue was skeptical—perhaps this was Dimitri's attempt to cheer him up. He would've rather been given harsh truth than false hope. "What do you mean?"

"Dedue, do you really need me to spell it out for you? Very well—Cerro."

The Professor's declaration that class was dismissed quickly was drowned out by the sound of scraping chairs, shuffling papers, and rustling book bags. Over the noise, the Professor quickly announced the week's group assignment.

"Weeding duty—Dimitri and Sylvain." At the back of the class, the red-haired boy gave a loud groan. The Professor flipped through the last sheets in her portfolio, and then shut it. "Ah!" She came around the podium. "Dedue, I hope you don't mind if I hold onto you for a bit longer. Did you have any other commitments after this?"

"No, Professor." Dedue looked back as Dimitri passed him. "Your Highness, I feel I must remind you that when you are out weeding to please not—."

"I know, Dedue! I won't!" Dimitri cried, exasperated. A few nearby students snickered. With the lecture over, the classroom emptied quickly. Nadine turned back to the podium and plucked up her folder.

"Have I done something wrong, Professor?"

"Why is that the first thing you assume?" she replied, tucking the folder into her bag. Fitting the strap over her shoulder, she gestured with a hand. "Come on. Follow me." She led him out of the classroom, heading towards the eastern side of the monastery. When they passed the Knight's Hall, Dedue realized they were headed for the stables.

"Professor?"

"Hang on, hang on. Just a little bit further," she assured, throwing a smile over her shoulder that made his chest flutter.

Unlike the paved pathways that ran across the rest of the monastery, the stable grounds remained soft with gravel and dirt so as to ease the strain on the horses' legs. It crunched underfoot as the two of them walked. With each stall Dedue passed, horses either quickly dipped their heads out of view or pinned their ears angrily against their skulls at the sight of him. A knight, leading her horse by the reins, was suddenly yanked back when the beast threw its head up and stamped its front hooves.

He hadn't been here for even a minute, and already chaos was ensuing. "I should not be here," Dedue reminded the professor.

"What have I told you about adversity?" the Professor replied simply. "When we turn away at the first sign of it, we let it win." She stopped by the very last stall where a man waited. Dedue recognized him as a mercenary—part of Jeralt's band, if he recalled correctly. To the mercenary, the Professor said, "Thanks. I'll take it from here."

The mercenary gave her a curt nod, uncrossed his arms, and stepped away from the stall door. The Professor undid the bolt and swung it open. But instead of stepping in, she held the door open and gestured for Dedue to come closer. He did, pausing in the doorway to look into the dark stall. The light coming in from behind them just barely missed the small shape huddled in the straw at the very end.

"A foal?" Dedue said, developing a very wary idea of what was going on.

"Yes," the Professor affirmed. "Found on his own, with his mother's body discovered a little under a mile away. Wolves had gotten to her." Dedue nearly jumped when he felt the Professor's hand on his back. It gave him a gentle push. He stepped inside the stall, and she trailed in behind him. "He's a Highland breed—a descendant of the powerful warhorses cultivated by the ancient Faerghus tribes. It is estimated that he'll be at least 2,000 pounds once fully grown."

"How did he come to be here?"

"The man that took him in owed my father and I a few favors—we'd helped him out during our mercenary days, and I called this one in. This was an opportunity too good to pass." The Professor stepped ahead, crouching down next to the foal. It stared up at her with wide, timid eyes. The Professor waved for Dedue to move closer.

Cautiously, he did. He saw the foal's eyes quickly switch to him. Although it didn't react, it remained frozen in the straw.

"Opportunity?"

"I think you've already guessed it by now." He met the Professor's eyes. She nodded towards the foal. "From now on, he's yours. You said no animal ever liked you, and I thought that couldn't possibly be true. They are like people—they need to learn. To bond. And also…" The Professor looked down at the small creature. "This one reminds me of you. He has also lost so much. I think you can really help him."

He didn't know what to say—truly, he was at a loss for words. Dedue looked at the foal, and it stared back. Perhaps… perhaps…?

A careful hand reached out. As it neared, Dedue suddenly saw the foal's ears fold back. It shrank away, its nostrils flared and quivering. His hand hesitated in the air.

Dedue was just about to pull it back when suddenly the Professor's hand gently clasped over the back of his and pushed it forward. He felt his fingers touch the soft fur on the foal's neck. The creature was deathly still.

Then, as it felt Dedue's hand draped lightly over its neck, it lifted its head. Its ears perked back up. Its eyes looked to Dedue, and this time the fear had been replaced by a shy curiosity.

He couldn't remember the last time a smile this genuine had touched his face. Beside him, the Professor blinked her glassy eyes. "Well," she murmured softly. "With that over with, here comes the hard part."

"Hard part?"

"Mmhmm. Now you're going to have to come up with a good name."

"The Professor was always going above and beyond for all of us," Dedue pointed out. "She did similarly for you, especially during the war."

"Dedue, please—she gave you a whole ass horse. While you were a student. That's textbook favoritism—and no, I am not saying that to place the Professor in a bad light. I am simply telling you this to assuage your worries that your trip to Garreg Mach will be in vain. Go, Dedue. I wholeheartedly believe your life will be far better by the archbishop's side than by mine."

"O-of course." Suddenly, Dedue remembered something. "Your Majesty, what of the shire in Virtres territory?"

"The shire? Ah yes, I remember."

"I had to depart swiftly to come to your aid. There is still so much I haven't achieved in that shire, and I fear—."

"Peace, Dedue. I have already sent my knights back out there to make sure there is no more needless bloodshed. They are on strict orders to exhibit no discrimination, and I myself will be closely monitoring that they keep their word." Dimitri shook his head with a sigh. "It's not much, I'll admit, but it's all we can do. You and I both know that these kinds of problems do not get solved overnight. All we are able to do is surround ourselves with good people and push for change. In the meantime…" Reaching forward, Dimitri pushed the cup that had been sitting idle in Dedue's hands up towards his face. "Rest and recover. You have a long road ahead of you, my friend."