Part 1 — Lone Moon
As hours turn into days, the fear of impending conflict bubbles. Daily reports from the front lines in Enbarr become harder to obtain as Edelgard's army grows, but Seteth is just as insistent as ever to secure the safety of Garreg Mach.
Eventually Shamir returns with dire news. The full force of the Adrestian Empire has begun advancing on the home of the Church of Seiros. With the sheer size of the brigade it was hard to tell how quickly they could advance, but everyone knew there was only a few days at most before the siege would begin. For the remaining students in the Officers Academy, it was time to put their education to the test on a true battlefield.
As Garreg Mach ran amuck with chaotic preparations, one place remained distinctly peaceful: The Greenhouse.
Deep inside the horticultural chamber full of well-groomed, domesticated gifts of nature at the southern edge of the Monastery, the typically imposing and burly form of the Blue Lion's resident Duscur knight knelt beneath the cool shade of foliage with wide-brimmed leaves. It was a reverent and still scene, distilled to its most potent spirit by the utter silence settling in the otherwise empty room.
Nary a single disturbance of the dirt was out of place, as Dedue was laser-focused on his task. So much so that he appeared completely ignorant to the gentle creak of the Greenhouse doors and somewhat heavier footsteps that followed as Byleth entered.
Of course that illusion was shattered as soon as the Professor moved closer.
"Here you are again," Dedue calmly remarks without looking up from the soil.
Byleth pauses — always caught a little off-guard when the silent protector speaks away from his liege. It wasn't as uncommon an occurrence as it was at the beginning of the school year, but it would be hard to describe Dedue as anything other than "soft-spoken" outside the confides of combat.
"I came to check on the flowers."
Now it was Dedue's turn to pause. He stops mucking around in the dirt and lifts his head up slightly. It had been a long while since the two had met alone in the Greenhouse like this, so much so that the Duscur man was surprised his busy instructor remembered their banal time gardening together.
"I see," he says with a voice as naturally gruff but calm as ever. "The flowers you helped to water are now in bloom. Have a look."
He brushes his hands together to clean off some of the dirt before standing and leading Byleth over to a recently blooming patch of flowers. It seemed the crop's pedals had taken a similar shade of green to Byleth's divined hair.
"Aren't they lovely?" The Professor asks with his arms crossed as he stands beside Dedue.
"Indeed." For a moment the two are in sync, looking down at the flowers with similarly serious expressions. "My sister was fond of this one in particular."
Suddenly Byleth's eyebrows arc with interest. He looks over at the typically reserved student and unfolds his arms.
"Where is your sister now?"
"Dead."
Dedue's eyes close momentarily, but that appears to be all the grief he's willing to express. Byleth's straight-lined expression ticks into a frown.
"Duscur is a dead land. Its flowers were all trampled under the boots of soldiers. But seeing this blossom brings back memories." He takes a deep breath before turning away from the teal-green flowers and moving back to his original spot.
"I do not know why I am telling you all of this."
Byleth follows along after him. "You are unusually talkative today."
The larger boy offers what appears to be a calloused snort, some attempt to hold back a more generous laugh.
"It surprises me as well."
Dedue kneels in front of the foliage and once again starts to dig around. He appears to be pulling out thick roots from what Byleth can see over his shoulder.
"But if you are from Fódlan, you must know what became of the people of Duscur." Byleth nods; he remembers all that Dimitri and others have said about the Tragedy of Duscur. "The people who betrayed their allies from Faerghus. The ones who were punished for regicide. The Duscur are shunned for their crimes, even now."
Dedue's work pauses once again, and then he shakes his head before continuing.
"It would be in your interest not to spend any more time around me than necessary."
"Dimitri doesn't shun you, " Byleth almost immediately retorts.
The Duscur man smiles to himself.
"His Highness is an exception."
"And what of the others?" Byleth continues. "You're a valued ally, Dedue. I don't perceive anyone does not appreciate it by now."
"It took Ingrid some time to see beyond my darker complexion." Dedue's voice sounds remorseful rather than distasteful. "But I do believe she has stopped holding me personally responsible for the death of her fiancé."
Glenn Fraldarius. Of all those who perished alongside the old king of Faerghus that fateful day, his ghost was the one who seemed to haunt Byleth's class most.
"Speaking of…" Byleth starts to rub his chin thoughtfully. Something told him it would not be right to linger on such heavy and personal subjects. "Is there a reason you are here gardening, and not preparing for battle?"
Dedue nods again. "I am, actually." He turns his upper body slightly to show off one of the dirt-spackled roots in his calloused palm. "If we grind these into a fine powder, we can strengthen everyone's vulnerary supplies and offer them more potent medicines."
The Professor smiles warmly.
"Thoughtful as ever I see." He reaches out and rests a hand on Dedue's shoulder. "It's just that kind of caring which makes you so valued on and off the battlefield."
"Thank you, Professor." Dedue turns toward the torn-up flowerbed and returns to work. "To be completely candid… It pleases me to be able to speak with you like this. If you truly do not mind, I would be glad to receive more visits from you in the future."
"Of course. It would be my pleasure."
The two soft-spoken men share another moment of quiet, contemplative gardening before Byleth stands and turns to the exit. There were more students he needed to check on in preparation for the impending assault.
However, just before he gets the chance to push the Greenhouse doors open, Dedue calls out.
"Professor."
When the green-haired man turns around, he finds his white-haired pupil standing as well. Even from far away, his build was overwhelming.
"I want you to know that I trust you more than anyone else here at Garreg Mach."
Byleth can't help but smile at the sentiment, but it fades as Dedue continues.
"His Highness has always been… Troubled. He puts on a genial front, but thoughts of his past and future both infest his waking life."
Dedue holds the small collection of roots at his side and walks to the door.
"Even before the situation with Edelgard escalated, His Highness has always had trouble sleeping. Since that night in the Holy Tomb he has been inconsolable."
"I have noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Should I assume Dimitri is the source of those rumors about ghosts in the training grounds as of late?"
The general lack of a response from Dedue as he stops in front of his instructor is pretty much confirmation enough. Byleth nods.
"Ashe should be pleased to hear it."
"Professor." The resolve in Dedue's tone is enough to silence Byleth. "Should something happen when the Adrestian Empire attacks, I would like to entrust His Highness to you. I'm afraid that he might break at any moment… And you are a good grounding force."
Another long moment of silence settles over the two, but this time it feels tenser.
Byleth stares into his student's green eyes and tries to pick up any hint of reservation or doubt. There's none to be found.
"Don't let those thoughts bog you down Dedue," he says. "As long as I'm around, nothing will happen to you — or anyone else, for that matter."
The Professor offers his hand, all but cutting his palm to make the agreement more binding.
They shake, and then Byleth leaves Dedue to the rest of his work. He brushes a bit of the rich soil off on his leggings while pushing his way back into the Monastery proper.