Hey everyone!
Sorry this one took longer than the norm, just winding down from all the holidays and that jazz. Can't promise we'll get back to the usual chapter a week speed until near the middle of January, but we'll see. Also, sorry for the slight delay in replies to reviews. I do them in increments, so sometimes it takes a bit longer to get to them all. Anyway, hope you all had great holiday season this year! 2020 woooo!
A lot of you mentioned Edelgard's "comfort" scene in your reviews and were curious how I might adapt it, so I just wanted to quickly let you know that particular scene won't be til the next one. Didn't want y'all reading these coming scenes thinking "hey, where is it?" or "that's not how she'd say it!" Just a little summary, but this particular chapter takes place right after the last one, so a lot of those scenes after Jeralt's death will take place next time.
Hope you enjoy!
Rhea knelt in front of her professor, placing her hand to his cheek. His skin was ice cold and devoid of all warmth.
"Byleth?"
Byleth didn't say a word. He didn't move a muscle as her fingers brushed against his ashen skin. His lifeless eyes didn't blink. They simply continued to stare at the infirmary bed opposite of him. To the bed where the recently deceased Jeralt lied, covered by a blanket.
The archbishop tried not to let Byleth see her frown, but it was hard not to; Rhea felt her heart split in two as she looked at him. The shell of a man that sat before her now was nothing like the teacher she came to know over this past year. Byleth had always been… different, and she was surely to blame for that, but… Those blue eyes of his were always so full of life; so full of curiosity, always searching. In many ways, they reminded her of Jeralt's when he first came to the monastery. They weren't too different, in that regard.
But, now… Jeralt was gone, and she feared that Byleth would follow close behind.
"How long has he been like this?" Seteth asked quietly. He was standing behind Rhea, his arms crossed. He was watching the two with a neutral expression, but the grave tone to his voice betrayed whatever emotions he tried to hide.
"He hasn't said a word since the others brought him… them here," Manuela answered. The healer was standing off in the corner next to Alois. Given how she was nervously fiddling with her top, she appeared to be at a loss on how to help.
"He didn't speak on the way over, either," Alois added. The senior knight's face was hidden behind the hand that was placed to his temple. His eyes had never left Byleth, except for the handful of times they had moved to the captain.
Seteth frowned, his gaze lingering on Jeralt before it moved to the wood floor.
"I see…"
"Byleth…" Rhea swallowed, fighting back tears of her own. Her hurt couldn't possibly compare to his, but Jeralt… he had meant a great deal to her as well. "I am so sorry for your loss…"
The guilt she felt over what happened was near unbearable. Ever since the news of Jeralt's demise reached her ears, the thoughts of what she could have done differently never strayed too far from her mind. How could she let the man that saved her life so many years ago die? What if she asked another professor to handle this? What if she sent the Knights of Seiros instead? Would Jeralt still be alive? Would Byleth still have a father? First Sitri, now Jeralt… Had she truly ruined this entire family? Would she be the cause of all their deaths?
Yet, beneath that guilt laid a far more selfish emotion: fear. Fear that Byleth wouldn't snap out of this. Fear that the vessel she helped create would end in another failure. Fear that the sacrifices made for his very life had been wasted. Fear that despite how terribly far she had gone, her mother might never return to her.
The fact that she considered these things during a time of such loss and grief made her feel even worse.
Byleth's pupils slowly inched towards her. When their eyes met, Rhea felt no recognition come from him. It was though he was staring through her rather than at her. He didn't even seem to notice that he was now shivering. Perhaps he just didn't care.
"Seteth." Rhea tore her gaze away as she turned towards her confidant. "Bring the professor some dry clothes to change into before he falls ill."
"Of course, Lady Rhea." Seteth stooped into a bow before he hurried off to do as she ordered.
"Have you tended to his wounds, Professor?" Rhea asked the doctor.
"No. They're minor, but…" Manuela sighed, her shoulders drooping. "I haven't gotten the chance to."
Given her careful wording, Rhea assumed it was more that Byleth hadn't let her rather than she hadn't gotten around to it. In the state he was in, the archbishop doubted he was in any mood to be taken care of.
Taking a single glance at him, her suspicions were instantly proven right. Byleth's blank slate hadn't changed, but she could see a sharpness to his eyes. She could see the way his nostrils were slightly flared. It was though he was daring her to even try.
"I understand," Rhea murmured. She held his hawkish gaze, reaching out to cup his cheek once more. "Once Seteth returns, would you like us to help you to your quarters?"
Byleth tilted his head away, avoiding her contact. It was minuscule, barely even a movement, but it was all the answer she needed.
Rhea hesitantly lowered her hand back to her side. How deeply she wanted to comfort him… To hold him and console him… But, seeing the walls Byleth was beginning to put up, she knew it wasn't her place to do so. If anything, being here was only causing him more anguish.
The archbishop pushed herself to her feet, then faced Manuela.
"Professor, would you mind informing the others?"
Edelgard paced back and forth in the hallway, her arms crossed across her chest as she chewed on her thumb. The rest of the Eagles, Lions, and Deer were waiting with her, but she hardly even noticed them. The future emperor was too lost in her own thoughts. Her heart was overcome with grief, her mind plagued with worry. The herd of students in the hallway with her were the last thing on her mind.
So many conflicting emotions were at play. Sorrow over the loss of a man she truly respected. Regret over the fact that she didn't try to develop a relationship with Jeralt sooner. Worry over her professor's emotional state. Desire to be there for him during this dark moment, as he had been for her. Jealousy that Rhea of all people had taken her place. Unbridled anger at what her uncle and Monica did. Guilt… insurmountable guilt at the realization that this was her fault.
It was all her fault… If only she sent Hubert sooner. If only she went herself. If she had, then maybe none of this would have happened. She was truly beginning to view Jeralt as a friend, but more importantly, he was Byleth's father.
And it was because of her influence that he was killed. Wherever she walked, were death and heartache bound to follow?
"I wish there was something we could do," Ashe whispered, his eyes lingering on the infirmary door. "It's… not easy losing a father."
"It's not," Raphael agreed solemnly. A rare tone from the usual boisterous man. "Especially like that…"
Ignatz patted his friend on the back.
"Maybe when he's up to it, we can offer him our condolences?" He offered meekly.
"Nothing we say would change anything." Felix frowned. "Nothing we say would bring his father back."
Ignatz avoided Felix's glare, mumbling an apology under his breath.
"Even so, we should be there for him. Not as students, but as his friends," Dimitri countered. That was the first time he had spoken since they returned. "The professor should know he doesn't stand alone."
"Captain Jeralt was a good man…" Leonie nodded, her red eyes distant. "His son of all people should know that, too."
"Be quiet," Felix snapped, his glare hardening.
The murmurs of the crowd grew quiet.
"Felix?" Dimitri's eyes widened at the hostility in his voice.
"Do you really think Byleth wants to hear how great a man his father was? About how valiant and heroic he was? Or do you think he'd rather his father was still alive?" The swordsman scoffed, turning away from Leonie. "Useless words."
Leonie stepped towards him, rolling up one of her sleeves.
"Hey, I don't know what your problem is, Felix, but you've got some nerve-"
"Quit your petty squabbling."
All heads turned to a scowling Hubert, who had materialized behind the captain's apprentice.
"Have some respect," he spat, pulling Leonie away from Felix. "If you want to continue, I suggest you leave. Quickly."
Leonie huffed, brushing Hubert's arm aside as she went back to her spot against the wall.
Edelgard met his eyes, mouthing a silent 'thank you.'
"A bit harsher than I would have put it, but they're right. We're all a bit on edge, and while I'm sure everyone means well, it's best to give the professor some alone time for now," Claude conceded, stepping into the center of the group. He glanced to his Lion counterpart. "What do you say, Dimitri? Shall we let the Eagles handle this one?"
Dimitri exhaled through his nose, nodding slowly.
"That would probably be for the best," the prince agreed, pushing himself from the wall. "Come, Lions. You should all get some rest."
His gaze lingered on Edelgard's as the Lions filed out of the hallway. The two of them would never see eye to eye on many things, but… Regardless, she appreciated the sentiment.
As the two locked eyes, Edelgard nodded at him. Dimitri smiled fleetingly at her as he strode past.
"Let's go get some grub, Deer." Claude motioned for his house to follow as he made his exit. "We can swing by tomorrow to see if Teach is up for more visitors."
"I'm not leaving." Leonie crossed her arms, refusing to budge from her spot. "I… I have to see the captain. I-I have to see him before they…"
Leonie looked away, avoiding her leader's gaze. Yes… they would take him away soon, wouldn't they?
"Ah, man." Claude frowned, his features softening. He threw a glance Edelgard's way. "Princess?"
She nodded with a soft sigh. Edelgard didn't particularly wish for Leonie, someone from another house, someone she never had any dealings with, and someone that most of the Eagles weren't that close with, to stay. But, even so… Edelgard was aware of Leonie's past. Like most of the Eagles, she was aware of Jeralt's mentorship of the village girl, and knew very well how much the captain meant to her; Leonie wanted to follow in his footsteps. As much as it went against her better judgement, and as much as she didn't want it, Edelgard couldn't possibly deny her. In the end, it wasn't hers to decide; it was Byleth's.
And if she were in Leonie's shoes and it was Byleth that had… well, there wouldn't be anything in this world that would stop Edelgard from seeing him one last time.
"As long as you behave appropriately, I have no issues," Edelgard clarified. Everything went out the window the moment she suspected Leonie of stepping a single inch out of line. The fact that the aspiring mercenary didn't seem to consider Byleth's well-being wasn't lost on her. If she even looked at her professor the wrong way, Edelgard would escort her out herself.
"The ever-compassionate Princess, for you." Claude smirked at her. "Thanks, Edelgard."
"Thank you." Leonie dipped her head.
Edelgard scoffed, averting her eyes.
With that, the Deer minus Leonie followed the Lions' example and left the Black Eagles to wait by themselves. Were the circumstances different, Edelgard might have been able to finally relax. Were Byleth not so overcome with grief, he probably would have appreciated their concern, but Edelgard was simply glad they were finally gone. It was her professor. Her friend. This was her duty, not theirs.
This was an Eagles' matter. She only hoped she wouldn't regret allowing Leonie to stay.
Edelgard took a moment to examine the rest of her class to see if they were fairing any better, but the gesture was short lived. With just one glance she could tell they were just as distraught. Their gazes were glued to the floor, and outside of Felix and Hubert, none of them had spoken a word. Just like her, many of them had suffered through their own loss or tragedy at some point in their lives. In a time like this, it was easy to draw the parallels to your own past.
Ashe and Raphael were right. It was never easy to lose a family member.
The princess grimaced as a handful of faces flashed through her mind. Faces from her past; from her family. Faces that never stopped haunting her.
She quickly shook them from her head. Now was hardly the time be thinking such things.
As the door to the infirmary creaked open, every head lifted to meet it.
"Professor Manuela!" Edelgard was the first to speak. "How is he?"
The professor stepped out of the room, carefully closing the door behind her. Her expression was dreary and tired; a far-cry from the pep Manuela usually carried. She was usually very open with her students, almost to a fault, but today, her eyes seemed to gravitate to the floor just as theirs had been. Her lips were pressed against each other as she fought off a frown.
"About how you'd expect," she answered with a sigh. "Seteth ran off to get him some dry clothes. I'm hoping that'll help."
So, that's where he went… They all had seen Seteth take off in a near sprint out of the infirmary, but the man hadn't stopped to answer any of their questions. Not even Flayn's.
"Can we see him, Professor?" Dorothea asked.
Manuela winced, avoiding the songstress's hopeful gaze.
"I'm afraid not. I doubt he's up for visitors-"
"It is fine, Professor."
The archbishop herself stepped through the doorway; her hands clasped at her waist. Her carefully constructed façade betrayed nothing, but Edelgard still detested the way her green eyes seemed to land squarely on her. They reminded her of Byleth's, but in a terrible way. Those piercing eyes of Rhea's left Edelgard feeling insecure, as though they picked apart her every defense.
She loathed those green eyes of hers.
"They are his students. Perhaps seeing their faces would help Professor Byleth in these trying times."
"Archbishop?" Manuela faltered, but didn't object. "Are you sure?"
"I am."
"Okay, then." The professor nodded and turned back to the waiting Eagles. "You heard her, but only one at a time. The room is small, and we don't want to over-"
Edelgard brushed past the two and pushed open the door.
"-do it," Manuela finished, shaking her head. "I'll come fetch whoever's next after Edelgard's had her time."
The emperor stepped into the room, her eyes immediately moving to Byleth, ignoring Alois entirely. Her teacher was sitting on one of the infirmary beds, his hands resting between his legs as he stared at the ground. His wet bangs hung over his eyes, hiding them from view. The outfit he always wore was still soaked, but it seemed the rain hadn't washed away some of the blood that stained his hands, arms, and midsection. Byleth hadn't seemed to notice that, nor did he seem to care about the scorch marks on his chest piece.
Edelgard glanced at the other used cot, her heart jumping in her chest as she saw the covered body.
Oh, Jeralt…
"Professor Manuela, Sir Alois, could we have a moment of privacy?" Edelgard asked without taking her eyes off her teacher. Now that she finally had sight of the man she loved, she did not want to relinquish it.
The professor was silent for a moment as she considered her request. Edelgard could feel Manuela's eyes rest on her back, but she did not care.
"…Sure," Manuela relented quietly. "I'll be right outside should you need anything."
"I have some things to tend to as well," Alois sighed, running a hand through his hair as he walked to the exit. He stopped at the foot of the door, taking one last look at the Eisner's. "…If it's alright, I'd like to come back later. I… want to be of help."
Edelgard nodded, but she didn't look away.
When she finally heard the click of the door closing shut, she walked towards them. Before she went to her professor's side, she stopped beside Jeralt.
The princess took a deep breath as she examined the outline beneath the blanket. The guilt that had been replaced by relief at the sight of her professor resurfaced. It was so powerful, so overbearing that it nearly knocked her over.
Edelgard swiped the back of her hand across her eyes, letting the other rest on the bedspread. She didn't dare to reach out to touch the former captain, as she didn't feel she earned such a thing.
"Jeralt…" Edelgard muttered, her fingers digging into the cloth. "I am so, very sorry…"
As she uttered the apology that fell upon deaf ears, it was not the faces of her own family that she pictured, but the smile of Jeralt. The same relaxed smile she had seen from the man this very morning. It wasn't even a day ago, yet it felt like weeks had already passed. Was that truly the last time she'd see Byleth's father in that setting? Had she known that today would have been the final time, Edelgard wouldn't have drug her feet when he asked her to fish with him. She would have accepted readily. She would have told him how much his approval of her relationship with his son had meant to her. She would have told him how much his words had moved her.
Edelgard was no stranger to death or loss; even her own lifespan was drastically shortened. Because of that, and because of where that road would lead her, she tried to cherish every moment she could; no matter how difficult it was for her. She cherished every moment where she could play the part of dutiful student. She cherished every moment where she was able to spend time with her classmates. She cherished every peaceful day. But, above all, she cherished every minute, every second she had with Byleth.
Yet, it was moments like these that only reinforced the reality she found herself in. It reinforced what she knew more than all else.
Time betrays. It does not wait for you to catch up. It does not wait until you are ready. It does not allow you to get your fill. It stops for nothing.
Edelgard's hand drifted to where Jeralt's laid, still and lifeless. She did not take it.
Time betrays. It lets you start to believe that maybe things will go different; that maybe good things really do last. It lulls you into a false sense of security, only to sweep the rug out from under you when you least expect it.
These were all as true to her as the fact that the sky was blue or the grass green.
Edelgard retracted her hand, turning her body to face Byleth's.
Yet… When she looked at him… Despite everything, Edelgard still believed in the promises he made her. She still believed in the happiness and companionship he offered her. She still believed that Byleth, above all else, held the power to destroy all of these long-held truths. So desperately did she want him to continue to prove her otherwise… To continue to walk beside her to ward off the encroaching darkness… To continue to be her Byleth…
Is that what love does? Does it make you naïve? Idealistic?
Did it make you a better person? Or a worse one? Edelgard did not know.
"Byleth?" Edelgard spoke his name softly, taking a few steps towards him.
Byleth inhaled sharply, as though the very sound of her voice reminded him to breathe.
He exhaled shakily, pushing himself further onto the bed. Away from her.
His shoulders began to tremble, his breathing turning to something akin to pained gasps. It hurt her heart to seem him like this, but as much as she loathed to admit it… she could hardly believe it. Edelgard had seen Byleth during some of his worst moments. She had seen Byleth worry, she had seen him hurt. She had seen him when he was uncomfortable or anxious. She had even seen him when he was afraid.
But she had never seen him look so… frail and fragile. Not like this, at least. It was almost as though she was staring at a different person.
In a way, maybe she was.
…What a terrible thing to think during a time like this. Edelgard of all people should know better.
"Byleth?" She repeated his name, taking another step towards him.
Byleth clawed at the bed, avoiding her gaze as he stared at his legs.
"You… You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be here with me."
His voice was laden with anguish, cracking beneath the weight of his pain. The only other time she had heard such emotion seep into his words was back in the Goddess Tower.
"What if I wish to be?" She whispered, hesitating as she realized how that sounded. "Unless, you do not want me-"
"No, that's not what I…"
Byleth shook his head strongly. His muscles unclenched, his entire body slumping forward.
His previous declaration concerned her, but Edelgard pushed the feeling aside as she grabbed a nearby chair.
She sat down directly in front of him, but she didn't do more than that. She wasn't sure if Byleth exactly wanted her here, so Edelgard didn't feel comfortable with anything more.
Edelgard could still not fully see Byleth's eyes, but as he lifted his head to glance at her, she could spy hints of them behind his bangs. They were reddened and wet with unshed tears. His skin was ashen, and though she could not see it clearly, she thought she saw traces of streaks going down his cheeks.
It was only a glimpse, however. When Byleth lowered his head, the image disappeared with it.
And then, he gasped again, this time out of surprise. His body stiffened after it jerked, as though someone had punched him in the gut. His hands that had been tearing at the bed spread slowly turned upward, so that his palms were facing upright.
They began to shake as he continued to stare at them. The rate of his breathing quickened as his stained gloves prodded the bloodstains on his tunic.
Edelgard slowly rose from her seat as to not startle him. She… feared where this was going.
Byleth started to hyperventilate as he tore his gloves off.
"Professor Manuela!"
The gloves were thrown to the side as he moved to his upper body. As his hyperventilating worsened, he began to wheeze.
The door behind them burst open. Professor Manuela ran in, a stack of fresh clothes tucked under her arm.
"What is it?!"
Manuela's eyes landed on the frantic Byleth, who was still trying desperately to tear off his clothing that had been stained by Jeralt's blood. His neck began to redden as his nails cut into his skin.
"Professor!"
She ran forward, but Edelgard was quicker. As she was standing right beside Byleth, she reached him first.
Edelgard lurched forward, snatching his hands before they could literally tear his clothing, and his skin, to shreds. They were colder than ice, yet clammy at the same time. His palms were moist with sweat.
She had acted quickly, but Edelgard truly did not know how to react to this situation. She didn't know the words to say, nor how to comfort him. How could simple words comfort the man that just had his world taken from him?
But, she had been in his place before.
So, she said the words that she had longed to hear when she was trapped in that hell, hoping they would be enough.
"I'm here," she whispered, squeezing his hands as hard as she could. She hoped the softness of her voice would soothe him. "…I'm here, Byleth."
Byleth's manic eyes darted to hers. His pupils were dilated. Tears streamed down his cheeks. His hands fought against her grip, but eventually, as he stared into her eyes, they began to weaken.
Edelgard held his gaze as she lessened her hold.
"You are not alone. Never will you be alone."
His breathing began to stabilize as he peered into her eyes, but his face was still considerably pale. His expression was still contorted in pain.
"I need to get it off," he breathed, his hands twitching. "Please, I have to get it off…"
Edelgard looked to Manuela, who had watched the scene play out in a stunned silence.
She slowly let go of Byleth's hands to motion to the bed.
"Professor, if you would?"
Manuela walked forward, her gaze jumping back and forth between the two. She placed the dry clothing down on the bedspread, then backed away towards the closest wall. Edelgard was sure the professor would object, but curiously, she did not.
"I'll draw the curtains to give you some privacy," she said as she untied the bindings that held them in place.
Edelgard nodded her thanks, then turned her attention back to Byleth, who seemed to be looking everywhere but her.
"Would you like me to step out for a moment?"
"I…"
Byleth lifted his right hand. It was still trembling. He slowly curled his fingers into a fist and clenched. As he released, it was still shaking.
He shook his head, licking his dry lips before speaking again.
"Just help me with the armor."
Edelgard nodded, carefully reaching out to undo his shoulder pieces. She undid their bindings, detaching them and placing them on the bed. With those gone, his jacket fell as well. From there, she moved to his bracers, undoing their fastenings and slipping them off his arms. As she worked, she would occasionally steal glances at him. She had hoped that perhaps he would have calmed down somewhat, but that was hardly the case. If anything, he looked to be in even more pain. His eyes had gone back to avoiding hers, but every time Edelgard did get a glimpse of them, she had to willfully stop herself from wavering.
They looked nothing like Byleth's.
Byleth grabbed her hand, stopping her before she could go any further. It was still cold.
"That's-" Byleth swallowed before continuing. "I-I can take it from here."
Edelgard barely nodded as she stepped away.
"I'll be out there should you need anything."
"I'm not a…" Byleth stopped himself by biting his bottom lip. He closed his red eyes, his fingers digging into his thighs. "Thank you."
Edelgard lingered a second longer before she ducked behind the curtains. Manuela was waiting for her. Were this any other occasion, she was sure the flirtatious teacher would have some innuendo or joking remark about their closeness, but on this day, she only seemed to be staring at Edelgard fondly.
"You did well over there, Edelgard."
Edelgard scowled, avoiding the teacher's eyes. She would hardly describe any of her actions that way.
"It is not enough."
Manuela took a step closer to the Eagle, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. Edelgard usually didn't allow people to get so close to her like that, but she found herself savoring the gesture of kindness.
"It can feel that way." Manuela smiled ruefully. "We might not appreciate these gestures at the time, but I can promise you when the dust settles, Professor Byleth will be thankful for you."
Edelgard finally met her eyes. There wasn't a trace of dishonesty in them; she wasn't just saying that for her sake. The emperor wondered if perhaps Manuela had felt that way during her time in the infirmary.
"One can hope," Edelgard uttered under her breath. She did not believe in such assurances, but she would like to think so.
The curtains were pushed aside as Byleth stepped through them. He was now wearing a black shirt with a pair of grey, wool pants, and that was all. Edelgard hardly recognized him without his usual clothing on. It seemed very rare that he wore anything else.
The usual suit and armor was bundled up messily in his hand. He was holding it out as far as his arm would let him.
"Take it away," Byleth said, eying the stained clothes with disgust.
"Sure thing, Professor," Manuela replied, trying her best to appear chipper as she accepted the clothing. "I'll have someone clean it and return it to you."
"That doesn't matter." Byleth shook his head. "Burn it for all I care."
Burn it? But… Byleth always wore that. Every single day… Even the night of the ball he wore that… Edelgard couldn't imagine him in anything else, but if that's truly what he desired…
The professor pushed the curtains aside as he sat back down on the cot. He faced his father, his arms resting on his knees as he watched him. Byleth's eyes grew distant as he stared at Jeralt.
Manuela and Edelgard shared a look before the healer opened her mouth to speak.
"Would you like some visitors, Professor?" Manuela asked. "I'm sure your students would love to see you; they've been worried about you."
Byleth's eyes widened momentarily before he ducked his head, his lips curving into a frown.
"If that's what they want," he mumbled, slow and deliberate. It was as if he had difficulty getting the words out.
"Edelgard, if you-?" Manuela turned to her.
"I'm not leaving," she stated, her gaze never leaving his.
"I wasn't going to ask you to," Manuela sighed, smiling slightly at Edelgard's bluntness. "I was only going to ask if you wouldn't mind bringing the first visitor in?"
The professor took a step closer, lowering her head towards Edelgard's ear.
"I'm going to prepare Professor Byleth some herbal tea. I'm hoping it might calm him down some; we don't want him having another panic attack."
Edelgard glanced at the older woman, nodding slowly. While she had her own issues with any substance that might alter your state of mind, she couldn't deny the usefulness of such a thing at this moment in time. And, Manuela was the doctor, after all. Her knowledge on medicine vastly outweighed Edelgard's.
"Very well."
The emperor gave Byleth one last look before she turned to the door.
The first to enter was Lysithea. The young mage hesitantly made her way across the infirmary, sitting down beside him. Byleth's gaze hovered on her fleetingly as he gauged her, then it jumped away.
Edelgard stood off in the corner, her arms crossed as she watched the two. It was clear Lysithea was having some trouble finding the right words to say, as for the first five minutes she simply sat there silently, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
After a few more moments of indecision, Lysithea tentatively reached out to grip his hand in her own. She squeezed it softly, whispering words of apology for his loss. Byleth glanced at her, his eyes slightly red as he squeezed it back.
The next was Bernadetta. The timid, shy, Bernadetta. The recluse walked right up to her professor, not hesitating for a moment. She stared steadily at him, her own eyes filled with pain and grief.
Reaching out, she placed her hand to his head. She did not speak as she ran her hand across his hair. Byleth closed his eyes, turning his head away as the tears broke free. He did not move to distance himself from Bernie's headpat, however.
After her, came Flayn. The small, earnest girl was quick to apologize for Byleth's loss. Just as he did with the other two, though, he remained silent. He still remained quiet as Flayn wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a heartfelt embrace.
Byleth's hands did not move to accept the hug, but he did allow himself to bury his face into the crook of her neck. Flayn did not seem to mind her blouse getting wet as he quietly cried.
Ferdinand was the next to visit. He was putting on a brave face as he smiled at Byleth, but Edelgard could see the twinge of pain in his eyes.
The noble sat beside Byleth, drinking the very same tea that Manuela had prepared for him. This particular batch was clearly intended for medicinal use to help soothe troubled patients, but Ferdinand did not mind in the slightest. He simply sat beside his professor, sharing the tea with him. The bitterness did not seem to affect Ferdinand. He would remark about how fine a quality it was, and urge the professor to try it for himself. If not for him, Edelgard doubted Byleth would have drunk it at all.
Then came Dorothea. She was crying freely, but just like Ferdinand, she tried her hardest to smile through it. She sat down beside Byleth, resting her head against his shoulder as she sung him a lullaby. Her voice occasionally cracked and hitched, but Byleth did not seem to mind. He voiced no protests as he let his head rest against hers.
Once she was through, Felix had his turn. Edelgard did not fully know what to expect from the distant swordsman. He had grown a fair bit since he first transferred to their house, but even now, human relations were not his strongest suit.
However, to her surprise, Felix sat down right beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. And while Byleth's expression never displayed anything other than his grief and guilt, even his brows raised somewhat at Felix's gesture.
The former Lion gave the mercenary a few words of advice before he made his exit. Edelgard idly wondered how his words might have been colored by his own experiences with lost.
When Petra entered, Byleth was growing tired. He regarded the princess of Brigid with half-lidded eyes as she plopped down beside him on the bed. Like Flayn, she was quick to embrace the professor. Either his tiredness was getting to him, or perhaps it was due to his students' care, but when Petra hugged him, he returned it with one arm.
Petra shared a few stories from her homeland about how her people honored heroic warriors who fell in battle. Byleth murmured his thanks when she left.
Byleth was all but asleep sitting up when Linhardt came in. His head was bobbing back and forth as he fought back against his own drowsiness.
Linhardt hovered over him, gently urging the teacher to lie back to nap. Byleth protested at first, but eventually, he relented and allowed himself to rest. As he placed his head against the pillow, Linhardt covered him with a blanket. Wishing him a good night, Linhardt turned to leave, nodding at Edelgard as he went.
Caspar was the last Eagle to visit. Seeing the professor sleeping somewhat peacefully in his bed, he asked that Edelgard would inform Byleth that he came by, and that he'd be back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. He asked her to inform him that he'd come back so often that Byleth would grow sick of him. That he'd keep coming back until Byleth felt better.
With a slight smile, Edelgard promised that she would.
All that remained was Leonie.
When the Deer opened the door and stepped into the infirmary, she didn't give the slumbering Byleth a single glance. She walked straight to Jeralt, grabbing the nearby chair for her to sit in. She whispered her apologies over and over again. She questioned how this happened, how they could let him die. She apologized for her own weakness. She assured him that she'd do him proud one day. Leonie promised Jeralt that she'd grow to be half the man he was.
Leonie was strong. Stronger than most.
But, as she hesitantly squeezed Jeralt's hand, she was sobbing. It was not audible, and she tried to not let it show, but Edelgard could see the way her shoulders shook. She could spot the occasional teardrop fall to the bedsheets. She saw her hand tremble.
And, as Leonie cried, she gave Jeralt her thanks. She gushed it over and over, her lips tripping over each word as she tried to fight off her sobs. Leonie thanked him for choosing her back then. For being there for her. For being her role model. Leonie thanked him for giving her purpose, and for being the great man that he was.
Ten minutes later, after one final assurance that she would do his name proud, Leonie rose to her feet.
As she left, Leonie glared at Byleth, who was now struggling with a nightmare as he slept. Edelgard could see the contempt she held in those eyes. How much of that was born from the circumstance, she could not tell. The two always had a relationship based on mutual respect. From Byleth's stories regarding their numerous sparing sessions, Edelgard had always assumed that Byleth was just another bar that Leonie herself had wanted to surpass.
However, she had no way of knowing how much resentment or jealousy Leonie might hold towards Jeralt's son.
And if she lingered a moment longer or opened her mouth, Edelgard was prepared to ask her to leave politely, yet forcefully.
Thankfully, it did not come to that.
After a few seconds, Leonie turned away and left.
With her gone, Edelgard allowed herself to relax slightly. Exhaling slowly, she unclenched.
"Why don't you go get some sleep, Edelgard?" Manuela prodded her gently. "I can handle it from here."
"I want to stay by his side," Edelgard declined, shaking her head. She glanced at Manuela, meeting her eyes. "If I won't be in the way."
"As if I could stop you." Manuela smiled, motioning with her hand towards Byleth. "Go on."
Edelgard nodded her thanks. She grabbed the chair by Jeralt's cot, placing it back by Byleth's.
He was still battling with his nightmares. His head was tossing back and forth, his sprawled out legs twitching as he mumbled something incoherently. Edelgard could see his eyes darting back and forth beneath their lids. She wanted to save him from this dream, but she was hesitant to do so. Now, more than ever, did he need his sleep. For all she knew, this could be the only time he actually got any.
She sat down beside him, her eyes landing on his uncovered arm.
Edelgard reached for his hand, gripping it lightly in her own. She squeezed it once.
"Never will you be alone, my Byleth..."
Edelgard had whispered so softly that no one but her could hear her vow made; a vow only for them.
Byleth Eisner opened his weary eyes. He was lying on the infirmary cot, his blanket and pillows in complete disarray. He must have tossed and turned in his sleep, or in this case, lack thereof. It felt like he had barely closed his eyes before opening them again, yet when he turned his sights to the nearby window and saw the light from the moon and stars, he realized he must have slept for a few hours.
He sat up, his hand brushing against his damp cheek. He pulled away, frowning at the glistening liquid on his fingertips. He was still crying. Byleth hadn't felt it, but he was… How long would it take until the tears stopped? How long would it be until this excruciating pain ceased?
As he focused on his aching heart, his vision became blurry. Again, he could feel the heat of tears spring to his eyes. Why? When would this end?
Byleth exhaled, running a hand across his tired eyes. Lifting his head, he looked to the cot on the other side of the room.
His father still lied there. They hadn't taken him yet. Why? Why hadn't they taken him yet? What was taking them so long? Were they trying to torment him?
Byleth tore his gaze away. He couldn't stay in this room any longer. Not a second longer. He had to get out. He had to get away. He had to-
"Byleth?"
He could hear Sothis stir as he placed his feet on the ground. Byleth did not reply as he pushed himself up. Quietly, he walked towards the door.
Professor Manuela wasn't here, nor were any of his other students. They were probably asleep or eating by now. The fact they had all gone so far out of their way for his sake only intensified the already vast amounts of guilt he felt.
Edelgard, however…
Byleth stopped at the door to the hallway, the ache in his chest turning into a throb as he stared at Edelgard's sleeping form. She was sitting on a wooden chair right beside the door, her arms crossed, and her head slightly lowered as she slumbered away. She… hadn't left? She truly slept here?
Though, while she was asleep, it was far from peaceful. He could see her eyes move underneath their lids, her lips twitching as she mumbled something incoherent in her sleep. She was… having a nightmare.
Byleth reached out to wake her up, only to stop halfway there. His hand hung suspended in air, neither moving nor retracting. Even if he did wake her up, what good would he do? Wouldn't it be better to let her sleep? She needed her sleep, right? She had already done more than enough for someone like him; even if it was a nightmare, she needed the rest.
But, this wasn't rest. Knowing full well what nightmare she was having, even in his state, Byleth couldn't just ignore it.
He prodded her shoulder.
"Wha?!"
Edelgard shot up, her entire body jerking as her head twisted back and forth. Her wide, frightened eyes jumped around the room, only to come to a stand-still when they landed on Byleth.
She blinked a few times as her eyes regained focus.
"B-Byleth?" Edelgard stumbled over his name.
"I'm going to the bathhouse," Byleth whispered. Even now, his voice was still raspy. His throat still stung. "Why don't you return to your room and sleep?"
Edelgard grinded her palm into her eye, her hair fluttering back and forth as she shook her head.
"I'll wait here," she told him, her face regaining its color.
Byleth bit his cheek to keep himself from frowning. Why, why did she insist on staying here? He hardly deserved such sympathy. She was better off sleeping in an actual bed than struggling through the night in that wooden chair. He… He didn't deserve her kindness. He didn't deserve any of it. His students would have put their time to better use getting food or resting than coming to visit him. Failure shouldn't be rewarded in such a way.
Nodding, Byleth stepped past her and out into the hallway. He closed the door behind him. Byleth already felt guilty enough for lying to her; she didn't need to catch him in the act, as well.
"Professor."
The mercenary flinched as he heard a familiar voice echo through the dark hallway. Calming himself, he glanced to his left, towards the sound of the voice.
Hubert was leaning against the wall adjacent to the door, his arms crossed as he regarded Byleth with a neutral expression. It didn't hold the usual sharpness Byleth had always known it for.
He hadn't left either…? Of all his students, Hubert had always been the most difficult. While the two had something of a decent working relationship, he was well aware of the disdain Edelgard's accomplice felt towards him; this was the man that followed him constantly out of suspicion Byleth might betray Edelgard's trust. While Byleth would have preferred it to be different, he accepted the fact that he and Hubert may never be friends.
So, why? Why was it that Hubert of all people was here now?
"Go get some sleep, Hubert," Byleth sighed, walking away.
"Not until you do."
Byleth hesitated, turning his head back to his student. He had expected a biting remark. Perhaps even a sarcastic one. But… sincerity?
…Why? Why was he showing him such kindness, too? Why were they being so kind to him? He hadn't done anything to deserve any of it, and especially not from Hubert of all people.
Frowning, Byleth turned away. He walked to his father's office down the hall.
Jeralt had made a point of… a point of telling him to search his office should… something happen to him. Byleth had already failed him one too many times, so the least he could do was honor his wishes.
Turning the knob, he entered the room and closed the door behind him. Given how Hubert was acting, he couldn't be sure he would resort to his old methods, but still; Byleth wanted some privacy without anyone watching him.
Swiping the back of his hand across his eyes, he took a look around the vacant, dark room. It hadn't been touched since they had left it this morning. Everything was still in the places they had left it. The map was still on the table.
The second his eyes landed on it, he looked away.
"We've been in your father's office many times before, but… it hardly feels the same," Sothis commented. Her voice was soft, as though she feared anything louder would startle him.
Sothis… she had tried to initiate conversation with him multiple times since it happened, but Byleth had yet to reply to any of it.
"Byleth, do you…" Sothis paused. "Do you blame me?"
Byleth didn't respond as he squeezed his eyes shut.
"It is perfectly acceptable if you do. I… I surely-"
I don't.
"Y-you don't?" Sothis stammered, clearly surprised to hear him respond.
As Byleth opened his eyes, he could feel a tear break free.
"…Why not?"
My father died not once… not twice… but three, separate times. He experienced three, separate and painful deaths. If you hadn't stopped me when you did, I would have kept going until I couldn't any longer.
Three times. Three times did he allow his father to die. Three times did he allow that knife to pierce his flesh. Three times did he allow his father's blood to be spilled, and he would have kept going. Byleth would have kept trying to find a way to save him. In that moment, if Sothis hadn't intervened, he never would have stopped. He would have kept allowing his father to suffer as he toiled against the designs of fate… if that's what it really was. Looking back at it now, there were so many things he could have done differently… but even if he had, even if he had gone back and done everything right, what if the outcome was the same? How many times would his father experience the cold of death until Byleth stopped?
He knew the answer to that, of course.
He would have died again, and again, and again. He would have felt that pain multiple times. If you didn't stop me, I would have only prolonged his suffering. I… I am grateful that you stepped in when you did. I am grateful you stopped me before I caused even more harm.
Byleth's bottom lip began to quiver as the self-loathing gripped his heart once more. He caused his father so much pain…
"Byleth…" Sothis murmured his name softly. "You know he wouldn't have been aware of the other times."
Yeah, but I am.
Byleth walked towards the desk. He crumpled the map up and threw it to the side. Summoning a ball of flame in his hand, he lit a nearby candle.
He opened up the first drawer and picked through it. There were quills, vials of ink, and blank sheets of paper, but nothing else of importance.
"What do you think he left for you?" Sothis asked quietly.
Not sure. His diary, I presume.
Byleth opened the second drawer. It was relatively empty save for a few rolled up maps and a stray, small book. It wasn't the one he was looking for.
Shutting it, he moved to the third. The bottom cabinet was much larger than the other two, so it must have been in there.
Pulling it open, he-
Byleth's eyes widened, his fingers brushing against the wood. It was completely empty.
"Nothing?" Sothis mumbled. "Hmm. Perhaps he hid it behind one of the bookcases?"
Byleth frowned. That was possible, but there was something about this particular drawer… It was larger than the other two, yet its compartment appeared much smaller.
He tapped his finger against the bottom.
It was hollow.
With a grunt, he pulled the drawer out from the desk. Unsurprisingly, it didn't give much resistance as Byleth removed it. It must have been removed many times before.
Setting it down atop the desk, he began to probe the wood with his fingertips. If it truly was a fake bottom, then there should be some kind of-
His index finger ran across a groove near the back.
"How did you know?"
My father was always a cautious one.
Was that the first time he'd use 'was' instead of 'is?'
Ignoring the bitter taste that formed in his mouth, he slid the false bottom open. Sure enough, the diary and a small, leather pouch were waiting underneath it.
He brushed his fingers across its cover. Jeralt's diary… Byleth had always seen him write in it, but never had he got to read any of it himself. Reading it now almost felt like a crime, as though he was betraying his privacy. But, Jeralt did tell him to search his room…
Pushing aside that feeling, Byleth lifted the book and opened it.
"Your father's handwriting is prettier than I expected… What does it say?"
Byleth flipped through it until he got to the latest entry. There were pages and pages of other entries, but first and foremost, Byleth had wanted to see what his father had written before… before…
"Day twenty-six, Ethereal Moon.
Clouds are rolling in.
I ran into Byleth at Sitri's grave. He informed me of the good news regarding him and Edelgard.
I could hardly believe my ears when he told me. I always tried my best to be a good father, but I always worried that maybe our lifestyle screwed him up so bad he'd never meet a girl and settle down. I can't describe the relief I felt in that moment.
I wish you were alive to see it, Sitri. It was quite a sight to behold seeing him struggle to get it out. Never thought our son could be the bashful type… He's a good kid, though. He's really grown. You'd be proud."
Byleth swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking back a new batch of tears.
"After that, I met with Edelgard so we could talk. We went fishing. Gotta give her credit, she's not bad. Didn't peg her for the catch and release type, though.
You would have liked her, Sitri. She's got a gentle side just like you, but has a hell of a lot of spunk. I don't envy the task ahead of those two, but I'm sure they'll work it out. She doesn't seem like the type to just lay down and take it, and Byleth can be quite stubb-"
It stopped there. That was probably when Byleth entered the room and cut him off before he could finish…
"What else did he write?" Sothis asked. She seemed to be quite absorbed in it as well.
Byleth flipped to the front. He wanted to see the very first thing his father wrote.
The first entry was dated back in eleven-fifty-seven. Two years before he was born.
"Day sixteen, Guardian Moon.
It was sunny today.
After this month's assignment, I went to the greenhouse on a whim. I was never one for flowers; not my thing. But, for some reason or another, I decided to head in today.
Met a curious girl there tending to them. She had the biggest grin on her face as she watered the plants, as though it were the most enjoyable thing in the world. I never thought gardening could be fun, but… she really seemed to be liking it.
She was quite the striking image. Said her name was Sitri. Quite a looker Sitri is. Don't think I've ever seen a woman with hair like that. It was like some waterfall spilling over her shoulders. Her eyes were nearly as blue as her hair. If I hadn't been careful, I might have gotten lost in them.
Not sure how I felt about her nickname for me, however… The minute I told her my name, her face lit up like the damn sun and she just spouted 'Jerry!' Never once in my life has anyone called me such a childish name, but… When she said it, my heart skipped a beat. It was strange.
I think I'm okay with her calling me that. I might drop by again to see if she's still there. Wouldn't mind getting to know her a little more."
A few droplets of water fell to the paper below. Byleth rubbed his arm against his eyes. He didn't want to ruin his father's diary with his tears.
"So, that's how those two met…" Sothis whispered to herself. "I was always curious."
So was I…
Byleth was so enraptured with the words on the page, he didn't think to ask Sothis how far back 'always' went.
"Do you think there might be some entries regarding your birth?"
He nodded, turning the pages forward until they reached the year he was born.
"Day twenty, Horsebow Moon.
All is cloudy.
I can't believe she's dead.
Lady Rhea said she died during childbirth, but is that the truth? And still, the child she traded her life for doesn't make a sound. Didn't even cry at birth."
Byleth shook his head, closing the book shut. He… didn't want to read that. He couldn't read that.
"Byleth, I know it is difficult… But, these were questions you always had regarding your birth, are they not? We can stop if you wish, but do you not want those answers?"
I… I do.
Taking a deep breath, Byleth opened the diary once more.
"Day twenty-five, Horsebow Moon.
It's raining.
The baby doesn't cry. Not ever. Lady Rhea says not to worry, but a baby that doesn't cry… it's not natural.
Had a doctor examine the child in secret. He said the pulse is normal, but there's no heartbeat. No heartbeat!"
Byleth flipped forward a few days. These passages were much shorter than the others he read, and there were some days that were missing. Perhaps his father just didn't have the energy or spirt left to write them.
"Day two, Wyvern Moon.
Sunny.
I feel I must take the child and leave. But the church is always watching us… I don't know what Lady Rhea has planned.
I used to think the world of Lady Rhea.
Now I'm terrified of her."
Byleth quickly turned the page. The pain in his chest slowly morphed into a burning sensation.
"Day eight, Wyvern Moon.
More rain.
I used the fire that broke out last night to fake the child's death.
Lady Rhea is in a state over the news, but I can't change what I've done. I've got to take the child and leave…"
That… that was it? There was no more to that entry? Byleth rifled through a few more pages, but after skimming the next entries, there didn't seem to be any continuance. Most of it was about their time on the road, or his plans for the future. It did mention him planning on going to Remire Village until things cooled down, but nowhere did it explain what part Rhea played in this. It seemed his father was as much in the dark as Byleth was now. But he had to know more…
Byleth carefully placed the diary down before his coiling fists could damage it.
What did Rhea do to him? What must she have done to make his father so fearful? What did she do to his mother? Was all of this… his condition, his inability to express human emotion, his mother's death… Was this all her doing?!
Why didn't she tell him any of this?! Never once did she mention the fact that he was born here at the monastery, nor did she ever even mention his mother! The woman who died giving birth to him, and she didn't have a single word to say to Byleth?! Why had she deceived him?! Why had they kept him in the dark?!
"What else did he leave you?"
Byleth blinked, his rage dissipating as he heard Sothis's question ring in his ears. His desire to see his father's belongings greatly outweighed his anger towards Rhea.
As his mind cleared, his eyes landed on the leather pouch. He carefully picked it up, loosening its strings.
He poured its contents into his hand.
It was the ring.
The very same ring his father had given his mother. It was still attached to a chain. Jeralt must have left it here before…
Byleth's hand shook as his fist closed around it.
This was the very last remnant of his father and mother's love. It was all he had of his mother, and one of the few things he had left of his father. One final memento from his parents.
Slipping it on around his neck, he positioned the chain so that the ring lined up perfectly over his heart. His still, rotting heart. As he felt that tiny, almost nonexistent weight lightly press against his skin, the loneliness Byleth felt was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Not even his time as a mercenary compared to this feeling. This realization…
This realization that he was the only Eisner left. His father was gone. His mother was gone.
He was all that remained.
Byleth's hand gripped the chain beneath his tunic.
It's all my fault, isn't it? If I was never born… If I was never here… They'd both still be alive, wouldn't they? They'd be together in life instead of… instead of…
"You know that is not true. You remember what your father said, they wouldn't have given you up for anything," Sothis reminded him gently. "If there is blame here, it is mine."
Byleth frowned, his brow furrowing. That didn't make sense. How could it be her fault?
"Byleth, I believe I saw one more thing your father left," Sothis continued before he had a chance to ask.
He glanced at the drawer sitting on the desk. Byleth was certain those were the only two things there, but he didn't slide the lid all the way back, so it was possible there was something left.
Leaning over it, he opened it the rest of the way.
As usual, Sothis was correct. There was one more thing waiting for Byleth.
He… wished she had been wrong. For once, he wished she was wrong.
With a trembling hand, Byleth retrieved the stuffed doll that was left behind. It was worn and torn with years of use, but its fur was still soft and fuzzy, just as it was back then. It was missing an eye now, but otherwise, the doll was the same as he remembered when he picked it out as a child on his sixth birthday.
"He kept that…?" Sothis trailed off, her question hanging on the air.
It was the stuffed lion.
Byleth choked, his breath coming out in a half-cough, half-sob. He could no longer breathe through the knot obstructing his throat. He could no longer see past the wall of tears.
He dropped the doll as if its very touch burned him, backpedaling away until his back bumped up against the wall.
Byleth turned away from it, as he couldn't bear to stare at it a second longer. He was now facing the window that was behind the desk.
"Byleth? Sothis called out to him, but he could not hear her voice over the sound of his father's echoing in his ears.
Why… Why did he keep the lion? Byleth hadn't seen it since he was a boy, he always just assumed he lost it… Why would Jeralt keep it all these years? Why did he keep it hidden away and protected with his most prized possessions? Why?
Why…
Why…
Why?
Byleth lifted his head and stared into the glass of the window. Though the room was dim, he could see a reflection in its surface.
A reflection of a crying, sniffling man. A man with tears streaming so freely down his cheeks. A man whose lips were twisted in pain. A man whose eyes were filled with so much human emotion.
It was a man Byleth did not recognize.
He threw his fist through the reflection, shattering it and the glass.
"Byleth?!"
Near instantly he could feel stabbing pain shoot up and down his arm. Shards of glass had embedded themselves into his skin. Blood began to dribble down his hand and down his arm, dripping to the floor below. In this world of grey, it was the brightest color he saw.
He didn't care. The pain was nothing. He felt nothing. This was the way it should have been; it should be his blood that was spilled. Not his father's. Not his students'. Not Edelgard's. Just his. Only his.
Behind him, he could hear the door being pushed open. The wood slammed into the wall.
"Professor?!" Hubert's voice was near his ear. "What was that sound I-"
As his eyes landed on Byleth's wounds, then to the shattered window, he stopped. With a sigh, Hubert shook his head.
"Take this before you bleed all over the floor."
Byleth felt a handkerchief get pushed into his free hand. His fingers lightly grasped it, but his eyes were still fixed on the streaks of red.
Hubert hesitated for a moment, his analytical gaze studying his professor's face before he scoffed. He turned and left the room. His footsteps echoed down the hallway, eventually dying out completely.
"Why…?" Byleth mumbled, his eyes lingering on the cloth Hubert had given him. Sothis was calling his name, pleading that he staunch the bleeding, but he could not hear her. Or, perhaps he just chose not to.
A few moments later, the sounds of footsteps returned. They were quick, approaching him rapidly. There was another set this time.
Edelgard appeared at the door, Hubert a few feet behind her.
"Byleth," the emperor gasped, her eyes widening as she spotted his hand. "What did you-?"
She paced over to him, grabbing the hand that was holding Hubert's handkerchief and placed it to his wounds.
Edelgard's eyes landed on the broken window, then moved to Byleth's face. He could see that questioning look. She was probably wondering why, in his right mind, would he punch glass?
Byleth did not know. He worried that maybe he was no longer in his right mind. He had never experienced this kind of hurt before; he had no frame of reference. The pain in his chest was so much greater than any superficial wound on his hand.
Was he normal? Was this normal?
What was normal?
Edelgard had said something, but Byleth hadn't been paying attention. His gaze was still transfixed on the bright red. In his peripherals he could see Edelgard remove the shards of glass. After a few more seconds, there was a flash of white. Byleth felt an uncomfortable tugging sensation as his torn flesh began to mend.
"Byleth…" Edelgard sighed. She used Hubert's handkerchief to wipe away the red. Byleth could spot the hurt in her expression, as well as the hints of confusion and worry. He did not like being the cause of such a look on her face, but he couldn't seem to help himself.
Byleth stood there motionlessly as Edelgard cared for his hand. Hubert was still in the room, standing off to the side as he observed the display.
"El…"
Edelgard met his eyes, her own widening at the sound of her name. She seemed surprised to hear it.
Byleth swallowed to wet his dry throat.
"Why… Why my father?" He asked, pleading for an answer.
Byleth knew the answer to this question, of course, but he just couldn't understand why someone like Jeralt had to die. He couldn't understand how someone as strong as Jeralt could die. Byleth always just assumed his father was infallible. He never thought someone of his caliber could be killed, yet…
It was the situation he found himself in. Even with the power of Divine Pulse, he couldn't prevent it. Divine Pulse, a power Byleth always assumed could get him out of any situation, had failed. It had always been his safety net. If he ever failed, if he ever screwed up, it was there to bail him out of any situation.
Yet, it failed.
What happened the next time? Today Jeralt, but what if tomorrow it was one of his students? Ferdinand? Linhardt? Dorothea? Hubert?
…Edelgard?
What if the next time Byleth had to use Divine Pulse, it was just more of the same? What if he couldn't save them? What if he made them suffer countless times just like his father? How many deaths would he put them through before he stopped?
"I am so sorry, Byleth," Edelgard murmured, averting her gaze. She looked and sounded as guilty as Sothis had… Why did they blame themselves? It was his fault. He was the one to blame.
Edelgard's hands shook with rage as they clenched into fists.
"Jeralt was a good man. This… won't go unanswered."
Byleth watched her as she battled with her own anger, sorrow, and guilt. Her eyes were distant as they always were whenever she considered the future, though he doubted the future she was envisioning now had anything to do with her plans. As he had, she was likely picturing revenge. Retribution. Vengeance.
Things that Byleth needed more than food or sleep. He too pictured how he might go about snapping Monica's neck. How he might mutilate her body. How he might make her suffer as they made his father suffer.
Byleth should have been pursuing that. He shouldn't be here in his father's office wallowing in grief, yet…
He couldn't stop himself. That sorrow, that guilt… They pushed so heavily against his shoulders he feared even moving one leg lest he get crushed beneath it. Byleth wanted that revenge so badly, but… he just couldn't find the will to pursue it. He couldn't find the will for anything. The only thing he wanted was his dad. Everything else seemed inconsequential.
"Edelgard, Hubert."
Both Eagles lifted their heads as Byleth spoke their names. For a moment, he could see the light of hope flash across her eyes, as if it were her old professor speaking to them rather than this broken, shell of a man.
If only he could meet their expectations of him.
"Return to your rooms and sleep."
"No." Edelgard shook her head. "I won't leave you here alone."
While Hubert didn't voice his concerns, he seemed to share her sentiment. His impassive expression hadn't budged, and his feet hadn't moved.
"Go."
Byleth turned away from them. Away from their eyes. He couldn't stand to look at them, either.
"Leave me here."
"Byleth…" Edelgard mumbled, her brow creasing in worry. "I cannot-"
"Lady Edelgard."
Hubert cut her off, walking forward and gripping her by the arm.
"The professor wants to be alone. Let's not waste our breath trying to convince him otherwise."
Edelgard looked insulted by Hubert's harsh choice in words, but he was right.
The emperor spared him once last look.
"I will return tomorrow, my teacher; orders or not."
Byleth nodded, but he didn't dare to look her in the eyes. He still felt as though their efforts were wasted on someone such as him, but he envied Edelgard's strength.
And… he was thankful for it.
Edelgard's gaze lingered on him fleetingly before she turned to depart. Hubert gave him one last glance as well, then turned to follow after his liege.
Once the door to his father's office was closed, Byleth exhaled, letting his back fall against the wall as he slumped to the floor. The draft coming from the broken window was cool, but he hardly felt it. He could hear a piece of that glass crunch as he lowered himself to the floor, but he did not care.
Byleth rested his elbows on his knees, placing his head in his hands He could still feel Sothis's presence, like an ever-lasting light shining down on him. He could feel her watching over him, but Byleth couldn't bring himself to speak anymore.
For so long he yearned to be what others considered 'normal.' He longed to distance himself from his demonic title. Byleth wanted to be human, just like anyone else.
Yet, as he sat there alone on the cold, hard floor, he found himself praying to be anything else.
Anything that didn't feel this guilt. Anything that didn't feel this rage. Anything that didn't feel this sorrow. Anything that didn't feel this regret.
Anything that didn't feel the never-ending pain that only seemed to get worse with each passing second.
Byleth's gaze inched across the floor, eventually landing on the discarded stuffed lion.
He picked it up from the ground, dusting the glass off it. His cold fingers closed around it, reveling in the warmth it gave him.
The Ashen Demon hugged it to his heart, closing his eyes as he buried his face into it.
Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you liked it! I personally enjoyed writing how all over the place Byleth was. From grief, to guilt, to anger. As the game doesn't really touch on how he reacts to this outside of him being depressed, I did take some hypothetical guesses. Honestly, one of the things I've really kind of enjoyed with this story so far is touching on the implications of Divine Pulse and how it might affect his mental state. I mean, I NEVER thought about how Byleth might feel about putting his father through multiple instances of death. It's honestly pretty depressing. Divine Pulse itself is depressing. Someone could write an entire story about the strain it puts on Byleth's mind.
So, you can see why I mentioned that at the start. The Edelgard here will act differently then she might after a week or two goes by. I'll explain it more come next chapter, but one of the things I really plan on doing with these chapters is touching on how Edelgard will react to and perceive Byleth and his changes as time goes on. It's actually quite fascinating to think about considering how MUCH Byleth will change, and who he'll change into.
That comfort scene will take place next chapter, as well as the Flame Emperor scene and the moment with Alois. Changed my mind about Alois, got some plans for the guy down the line. Plus, I'll write a few "non-canon" scenes that couldn't be shown in game. Won't give too much away, but it'll probably be something you expect whenever a major character is killed off.
I hope everyone clocked my little "Jerry" inclusion the chapter before. You bet it makes a comeback here, and holds a lot more weight considering who called him that. I dunno why, but I always pictured Byleth's mom as basically the polar opposite of her son and Jeralt. Very emotive and animated, sort of naive and innocent, with lots of spirit. Honestly, wouldn't rule out the possibility of one day writing a side story that focuses on Jeralt and the mysterious mom. I'd love writing a full scene of their meeting that I basically summed up here.
But, I digress. We'll come back to Byleth's mom later on.
I'll see you all next time!
