It wasn't unusual for Hilda to be the last to slip into class just before the Professor closed the door. It was unusual that she would do so silently, that she would not have been seen at all the day before, that she would not meet any of their eyes as they glanced back at her.
Today it was more like open staring. She had been missing, the Professor had been missing, and the Gatekeeper had seen them leave together. Naturally the whole monastery knew.
She watched as Claude coiled like a spring, tighter and tighter as the lesson progressed, ready to burst forward the moment the Professor dismissed them to prod at the mystery. An undisclosed mission with just herself and their precious 'Teach'? He'd never be able to leave that alone.
She was saved once again, this time by the Professor asking those who had taken certifications that weekend to remain behind and discuss their results. That bought her a day's reprieve at least. Claude would bother the Professor about it and depending on what she told him either consider it 'solved' or start bothering Hilda for details. But that was Future Hilda's problem.
Future Hilda was not impressed with Past Hilda.
On Tuesday she'd managed to start returning their looks and glances with smiles, able to pretend she wasn't seeing their eyes glaze over as life left them, and they had started to lose interest.
But then on Wednesday Lysithea had given her such a conscious look that she knew her parents must have told her something, and she could feel Claude's attention on her, even as he faced the board. This time however, she saved herself;
"Lorenz, will you let me return the favour from last week?"
"It will be my pleasure." He agreed
She fell into her usual pattern purely by habit, so it resulted in Lorenz pouring once again, despite it really being her hosting him. She suspected he didn't particularly mind doing her bidding when it came to tea.
If the Professor had her way, there wouldn't be any work on the battlefield for her to talk Lorenz into anyway.
Lorenz noted her drop in mood, but refrained from asking, all gentility and consideration.
She answered the unspoken question anyway;
"I haven't… but… I should have."
Lorenz considered that and nodded solemnly.
Her next letter to Holst glowed with his praises, but made no mention of Ordelia.
There were always bandits on Magdred Way these days. With Gaspard and the Western Church all but collapsed the region was in chaos. House Charon did what they could, but they didn't have the same strength of force of Gautier or Fraldarius.
It was almost at the stage where the professors would need a rota for which class's turn it was to clear them out. They may even have started, actually, as Professor Byleth lead them all out once more towards the thoroughfare.
Or, almost all of them.
Hilda had expected to be sent up front with Raphael and Lorenz, a formation they had practiced before that scattered the enemy allowing Claude and Ignatz to pick them off with Marianne and Lysithea supporting, the Professor and Leonie switching between attack and defence as the fight developed.
But this time the Professor sent Leonie up front and stopped Hilda with a raised palm. She eyed her up and down, noting the absence of the misericorde (in its box, under a stack of fabric in the depths of Hilda's closet) with a frown.
Without warning she undid the clasp of her belt, looping it quickly around Hilda's waist so the hilt of the dagger settled comfortably where she could easily draw it.
"If it's me, I expect you not to hesitate." She whispered so the others wouldn't hear, meeting Hilda's eyes dead on with that stoic expression, as though she were commenting on the weather. Hilda's eyes widened and she swallowed harshly; was the Professor really expecting –oh Goddess, she was "Stay there until you're needed, Valkyrie."
The battle went as it always did when the Professor was in command; smoothly.
It did not feel that way from the sidelines.
Without being ordered this way and that across the field, Hilda can only watch. Ignatz is seconds away from being skewered when Lysithea hurls a spell at his assailant. Lorenz is beset on all sides when Claude finds his mark and pins them down in quick succession. The Professor is a juggernaut, but Hilda sees the moment her hand strays to the dagger that is not there, and she has to catch a blow on her vambraces before Raphael can intercept. Hilda can only watch as a thousand little moments of peril play out before her, keeping her heart in her throat.
Hilda would not die for anyone. But she doesn't want to watch her friends get hurt either.
She does not want to consider what the Professor expects of her. She doesn't think she will ever be ready for that.
The battle ends and from the view from the sidelines is… lonely. The Professor's pleased nod is not for her, nor is Claude's congratulatory speech, praising them all. She can't make out Lorenz's remark or Leonie's retort to him. Raphael doesn't throw his arm about her shoulder, Ignatz doesn't awkwardly compliment her, Lysithea doesn't roll her eyes at her, Marianne doesn't quietly check her for wounds…
She isn't with her friends.
Of all things, it's a rabbit hole that finally breaks her.
On their way back, they must cross the edge of a warren; the ground caves in, just a little, under Leonie's horse and the mare rears magnificently. Leonie throws herself clear and rolls away unharmed, but in that one moment of horse and rider silhouetted against the sky, Hilda sees a very different future playing out.
Hilda is off the path, on her knees, throwing up behind a tree before she knows it. There is a lot of confusion and kerfuffle behind her and then the Professor is speaking;
"Lead on, Claude, half pace."
"But, Teach-"
"Now, Claude, we'll catch up."
And then hands are pulling her pigtails up off the ground and softly combing leaf mould from the ends, before setting her hair to trail down her back. The Professor eases down to sit beside her, carefully staying on the leeward side of the tree, and hands her a flask.
Hilda rinses her mouth and spits "I can't do it, Professor. I can't… watch."
"Praise be," Byleth answers faintly and Hilda glances over to see a look of relief cross her face "I can't either." She says more clearly, taking the flask back and wiping the mouth of it off to take a swallow herself "I always have to step in. I couldn't have taught you how to cope with it, Hilda –with just watching. I can teach you how to defend yourself, how to stand on the field without fear… I can teach you to stand beside your friends and protect them, so you never have to bring them grace; nor they, you. Will you learn?"
Hilda nods and her teacher climbs back to her feet, offering a hand to pull her up.
There is a gash mark on that blocky vambrace now, Hilda notices. She thinks of pretty scrollwork on silver.
This, somehow, suits the Professor better.
Hilda takes the offered hand.
Five-and-a-half years later, Hilda finds a box at the back of her cupboard under a pile of fabric.
They are marching on Fort Merceus, based on a plan Claude had refined from her idea.
The Professor believes in her.
Hilda doesn't intend to die for anyone, but…
…she will give them her all.