Before Cyril knew it, he was at her door. Yet, his hand faltered when he reached for the doorknob. Why was this so hard?

No. This wasn't hard. He was just going to tidy up the Professor's room. Nope, not the Professor. Not anymore. She was Archbishop Byleth now, and tidying her room was his duty and honor. Especially now that Lady Rhea was gone.

With resolve, Cyril forced himself to push open the door to her room. It was dark inside, as expected. But there should be a lantern around here somewhere… There. The little wick flared to life at the clink of flint on steel. The Professor's room looked barely touched. Did they even let her gather any of her things? Or did they just take her without warning? She sure went willingly, though. Didn't even resist. Not that he saw at least.

The memory of it hurt. Filled him with the anger that had been pushing him the last few days. He resisted the urge to kick something. Instead clenched his fists. Felt something strange on his pinky. Byleth's ring.

Cyril ripped it off and threw it at the floor. It bounced. Clinked a few times under the bed. Beyond where the light reached. Did he just lose it?

Cold dread sank inside him. Quenched the hot rage. He grabbed the lantern. Dropped to his hands and knees. In a corner far under the bed, something glistened. Cyril flattened himself and went after it. His fingers closed over the ring, but there was something else next to it. Something sleek and leather. He grabbed them both.

It was only a book. Must have gotten knocked under there accidentally and missed. The leather binding seemed old and worn, but well cared for. Cyril put it aside on the dresser. The ring he clutched in his fist. Held it to his chest. It almost felt like it burned him, though the fear of losing it was stronger.

How stupid could he be? Clinging to this ring like it meant anything. She left. It meant nothing.

He pried his fist away from his chest. Slammed it down on the dresser. Why did she just leave like that? Why didn't she fight leaving at all? Didn't this ring mean anything? Didn't he mean anything? The same questions that had been swarming his mind.

Maybe the ring meant nothing after all. She'd given the ring with a joke anyway. Even if it felt like he was the only person she shared her humor with recently, that didn't mean it was true. The joke of her telling him he couldn't run seemed like her telling him she wanted him around forever, but she never actually said it. Even when he spilled his heart out and told her he had fallen in love with her. Twice. In the moment her smile had made him feel like she did say it back. That smile of hers put him over the moon.

Didn't that smile mean anything? It held so much emotion. So much love. For him. Hadn't it? His head hurt. Why did this have to be so confusing? Cleaning and repairing the monastery was so much easier. If only he had an answer for sure. If only he could talk to her.

If only. If only. If only.

Seteth did always say that wondering about the past never solved anything. But these thoughts refused to leave. Why wouldn't they leave? Why did he still love her? He needed a distraction. More distance. Focusing himself, he forced his fingers to release the ring. It would be fine on the dresser. He knew where it was.

Instead, he picked up the book. Started flipping through the pages. He wasn't a strong reader, but between Byleth originally teaching him during her courses, and Seteth making sure he practiced, he could read decently. Scanning a few pages told him this wasn't a regular book at all. In fact, it looked like a diary. But not Byleth's? It talked about meeting Lady Rhea for the first time outside of the monastery. Could this be… Captain Jeralt's? That would explain why Byleth had it. And why it was tucked under the bed so far. She probably kept it there to keep it private. The tactic even worked for the looters over the five years of chaos. Nobody wanted a book they had to find under a bed. And even less looters wanted a diary.

Cyril skimmed a few pages as he leafed through the diary. It started during the time Jeralt was a knight, long before his captainhood. The entries were few and far between. Just a statement that Lady Rhea suggested he start a journal to document his travels and thoughts to start. The next few weren't for several months or years after the first as far as he could tell. Basic descriptions of battles or a large event in the monastery.

Several entries later, more than Cyril expected, Jeralt spoke of something else. A woman, one of Lady Rhea's clergy. The entries after slowly increased in frequency, all about his interactions with the woman. Before too long, it became apparent to Cyril that Jeralt was falling in love with her. In annoyance and jealousy, Cyril flipped quickly ahead. He didn't want to hear anything to do with love. Success or failure. It made him hurt too much.

Something caught his eye as he flipped through. He had to backtrack a few pages to get to it. It was a sketch. A sketch of the ring Byleth had given him. Cyril stared at it for a few minutes, comparing the sketch to the actual ring. It truly was the same exact ring. His heart pounded in his chest. The ring had meaning. More meaning than he ever thought. If this ring was all Byleth had left of her father, she wouldn't have given it up so easily.

His thoughts spun. He didn't know how to feel. Giving this ring was something Byleth must have thought long and hard about. It wasn't the battlefield find or store bought trinket he thought it was. Putting the book down, Cyril stared hard at the ring. This ring had belonged to Byleth's parents. Both of whom she lost. And she had given this ring to him. She meant it. Just like he thought originally. She didn't say it, but she meant it. Cyril gently picked the ring back up. He had one of the answers he wanted. It still didn't tell him why she left.

But it told him she loved him.

Holding the ring to his chest again, he sat on the bed. A part of him felt relieved. He thought he had learned how to understand her better, and he was right. Even now, years later, she still seemed like she was barely learning how to express any emotion.

He could still remember when she first arrived at the monastery. Of course he thought she was pretty. Then again, he thought several of the young adult women students and faculty were pretty. None as beautiful as Lady Rhea, of course, but Byleth came close. Only, her constant flat expression was a little unnerving. Like she had no emotions at all. It didn't stop Lady Rhea from taking a liking to her right away, though. A liking that made Cyril incredibly jealous. Because of it, he tried to dislike her. He really did. Yet, every time he was forced to interact with her, she was so kind to him. She was nowhere near a social person, but she still tried to hold a little bit of a conversation, or offered to help.

It was even her idea originally to have him sit in on her classes. At first he rejected the idea; he didn't need her charity. He was already learning archery from Shamir. Lady Rhea talked him into it. She thought it was a good idea for him to learn from someone willing to put in the extra work to teach him. Particularly how to read, but if he learned other skills too, all the better. Then he could do more complex tasks around the monastery, or, if he wanted, could become a full fledged faculty member.

Looking back at it now, Lady Rhea knew how to convince him to do something. She had always been very gentle with him and all the other orphans they took in. When he asked why him and not someone more capable, She pointed out that basically all others had started learning already. They attached themselves to stablemasters or knights or anyone in between to learn the entire trade, not just one skill as he was doing with archery. And while nobody had specifically been asked to join a class before that she knew of, nobody was banned from the classrooms or lecture halls. Even several knights and faculty sat in on courses they wanted to know more about. Cyril was one of the few not doing any of it because he was too busy working the menial labor part. By joining a class fully, he would be more tied to what they learned instead of his own desires, but Lady Rhea thought that would be better for him. Provide him more guidance and give him a better base.

He sure did miss Lady Rhea. She always did seem to know what to do. If only he could talk to her about this whole thing. Heck, she could have kept Byleth from leaving in the first place. Everyone listened to Lady Rhea. Even her next Archbishop, though it helped that Lady Rhea had been her best friend.

But Byleth had feelings for him. That he knew for sure now. It must have happened the same for her as it had for him. Reconnecting after she had reappeared and summoned the knights of Serios to return to Garreg Mach.

He could remember that first day they returned so clearly. Byleth looked somehow exactly the same as the last time he saw her. Like she hadn't aged a day and suddenly he was only a few years younger than her. When he approached her for the first time since returning, there was no recognition in her eyes. He had to tell her who he was. Her expression had been priceless; the most surprised he'd ever seen her. The most expression he'd ever seen on her even. He couldn't blame her, though. The few times he'd seen his own reflection while out with the knights looking for Lady Rhea he barely recognized himself each time. Plus, she had plenty of other things on her mind than trying to figure out if there was a trace of someone she knew in the face of another solider. Things like discovering that Lady Rhea was missing and all of Fodlan had been at war for five years while she said she slept.

Rumors flew left and right about her. One popular one was Byleth did actually die and Lady Serios pleaded with Sothis day and night until Sothis agreed to send Byleth back to protect her people. The other popular one was that Sothis herself pulled Byleth from the world until she was completely healed. Neither seemed too far fetched after her blessing by the goddess that changed her appearance and let her split open the sky and emerge from nothing.

It only made sense to make her Archbishop in Lady Rhea's absence. But where did that leave him? Working together to try and find Lady Rhea and fix up the monastery for her return had thrown him head over heels for her. Even then he should have realized how stupid he was for doing so. She was the highly esteemed Professor. The one touched by Sothis. The Crest of Flames everyone rallied behind. She was incredible with her sword and her presence a balm to many people.

Yet, she never acted like it. She would get down on her hands and knees and move rubble manually with him. Even if they worked in silence, it was comfortable. He enjoyed working with her and even got to experience her earliest attempts at humor. Before too long, he realized he was unconsciously seeking her out to work near her. Once he realized it, he stopped because he didn't want to be clingy or to hog all of her attention when there were always people seeking her advice on matters of war.

He missed working with her then, but it didn't change that he could still see her around the monastery when they worked, or in the dining hall, though she was usually the busiest then. A few days after he stopped searching her out, she appeared at the same site he was working at. She smiled and started working next to him. It didn't take long for him to learn she had sought him out to work near him.

That was one of the clearest days in his mind. He was over the moon with joy. Byleth had chosen him, Cyril, a lowly servant boy, over anyone else to work with. It was also then he began to suspect his growing feelings for her. Looking back, she may have started to fall for him about then too. They couldn't always work together, of course, especially out on missions, but they always wanted to work together. If they didn't work together, he would often seek her out to eat near her, or she would invite him to train with her. They certainly weren't inseparable; she was far too important and there was simply too much work to be done. But when they could be together, they were.

It was almost like getting to know an entirely new person. Though she kept the nickname Professor, she didn't act like it toward anyone. Yes, she still instructed various subjects when asked, but she treated everyone like an equal, not a student. For him especially it spoke volumes. Granted, she always had been more strict with him as a student, particularly learning to read.

But what did it all matter now? It didn't matter what he thought of her or she thought of him. They were… doomed. She was becoming Archbishop. And not just like Lady Rhea was, she also had to rule all of Fodlan, though not entirely by choice, according to Claude. And here he was, an Almyran. A different race in a country that barely tolerated each other, let alone outsiders.

Maybe her giving him the ring had been goodbye. She wanted him to know how she felt, but their relationship couldn't go further. There was that joke after all. Where he couldn't leave or run away anymore. Maybe she meant he would be stuck here while she left for the fortress in Enbarr. Didn't matter that he thought initially it meant running from both her and the monastery. Which he did want to honestly do after Lady Rhea died.

Yet, he still needed someone to live for. He knew enough about himself to know that by now. Even Byleth herself said she didn't think it strange to live for someone else.

Wait. Just because Byleth wasn't here at the monastery didn't mean he couldn't live for her. As the new Archbishop, she would have to return to Garreg Mach for religious events, even if they didn't want her to live here. He could keep this place spic and span just like he did for Lady Rhea for Byleth's returns. That's what he would do. It was decided. Cyril, a servant of Lady Rhea and Garreg Mach Monastery, would live for Archbishop Byleth by caring for the buildings and grounds to the best of his ability for the rest of his days.

Opening his fist, Cyril studied the ring once again. He slid it back onto his pinky. This was the sign between himself and Byleth of this unspoken agreement. The dedication of his life to her. Maybe he would stop by a silversmith and see how to get it resized. He wanted to wear it on his ring finger, just like a wedding band. It would cost gold, but that was okay; he had earned a bit from being in the army that overthrew the corrupt Empress.

Cyril let himself lay down on the bed. The pillow still smelled like her. It wasn't hard to imagine her laying in the bed, peacefully asleep. So he would take this small comfort where he could and lay where she once did.

"So this is where you ended up." A voice stirred him.

Wait, he was asleep? What was happening? Did he miss something?

"I guess I'm not terribly surprised, given your feelings for her."

Cyril sat up on the bed. Seteth stood in the doorway, arms crossed. He wasn't angry, he just always seemed to have his arms crossed. Ironically, it did always make him seem mad or irritated, which is why Cyril avoided him as much as possible until five years ago. Now, well, a close friendship with Seteth was another thing he never expected to have. He'd only ever spoken of his feelings for Byleth to Seteth, and that itself only recently.

"Don't worry, it's still early. Work hasn't started yet; only the mail carriers have been by." Seteth held out an envelope to him. "This is for you. I also have received orders from the Prof- I mean, Archbishop Byleth. We are starting the Officer's Academy again this next school year."

Cyril stretched as he accepted the envelope. "We are? But the Monastery isn't anywhere near fixed yet."

"There were plenty of areas of the monastery that were in disrepair before the war. We'll just use the space we have to hold classes. More will be fixed over time. The hard part will be finding enough teachers by then, as well as nobles who wish to send their children for education."

"I'm sorry Seteth. I don't think I'll make a good teacher."

"Oh, not you. You're going to be a student."

"Okay, go— wait, what did you just say?"

"You are to be a student, Cyril. It's part of the orders from the Archbishop. I need to appoint teachers for at least two houses for the next school year, send out invitations to all noble and highly influential families who have student-aged children to come tour and invest, and hopefully also agree to send their children, and fill in any gaps with Archbishop-sponsored war orphans. The first and foremost of those being you."

"But I'm Almyran. I'm not allowed to be a knight."

"And Calude is half Almyran and led the Leicester Alliance for five years." Seteth shook his head. "They chose you specifically because you are Almyran. That is actually the first part of their plan; to eliminate hostility toward outsiders. So you, Cyril, are going to become a knight. The first Almyran knight."

"Wh-what if I don't want to become a knight?"

One of Seteth's eyebrows rose. "You mean you don't want to serve Archbishop Byleth as one of her personal guards?"

Cyril closed his mouth. The pounding of his heart drowned out any words he could have said.

"That's what I thought. I would suggest reading your letter and getting some breakfast."

Seteth turned and left, pulling the door shut behind him. Cyril stared at the closed door. Him, a knight? Could it really happen? Did he want to become a knight? He'd never considered it before. It just hadn't been an option for him. Shamir had barely become a knight, and very few people truly respected her as one.

But maybe he could be one of Byleth's personal guards? Did he dare think of it? Just the thought made his heart pound even harder.

Maybe he should just read his letter. He had been getting a few of them recently, more than ever before. Mostly letters from surviving servants of Lady Rhea thanking him for the work he did with the knights to save the land and find Lady Rhea. Or congratulating him on his work well done and telling him how proud Shamir should be with her apprentice. It would be good encouragement and a nice distraction to help him clam down and focus.

Flipping the envelope over, he tore it along the seal.

Cyril,

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know how to tell you. I thought I had more time. So much happened with Rhea's death and I was trying to convince Claude and the others to move the capital to Garreg Mach, but not many people like the idea. I may apparently be an avatar of Sothis and we're posting the Archbishop in place of an Empress, but not as many people have faith in the church anymore.

Again, I'm sorry. I miss you. I should have told you everything. I at least hope you like my idea. The church will sponsor you to become one of our first batch of post-war knights, among others as nobility send their children in again. You will be the first Almyran knight. Claude loves the idea. He has a drive to make the people of Fodlan more receptive of their neighbors. As for me, well, I know you'll reject the idea of being a consort of sorts.

Cyril had to put the letter down. His head spun. Byleth was right; he hated the idea of becoming a consort. But, if he wanted to be with her, it was something he had to consider. As much as she wouldn't force him to be one, others would expect him to have some sort of high ranking title. The idea made him sick. He hated the idea of being in a role like that. It was the last thing he ever wanted. Even thinking of the idea made him feel like he was drowning in expectations.

Did he love Byleth enough to take on that role? To put himself in a position like that? In a heartbeat he would say he would do anything for her. He would get his hands dirty and do backbreaking work, like rebuilding the monastery for her. Battles were also no problem; he could kill or sacrifice his own life for her safety. Cleaning and serving were second nature to him and he was the best at them.

Yet, Byleth had come and done all those things next to him too. And she would do the same alongside all the workers in the capital city. That was why she made such a good leader. Or, part of why. Another part was she never really wanted the power it gave her. She was incredibly amazing with it when she wielded it, but that didn't mean she liked it or even wanted it. Which—

Wait. That's right. Byleth didn't want the position either. She didn't want to be Archbishop, let alone ruler of all of Fodlan. She was only doing it because the people needed someone. A reliable someone. He could never hold the title of consort, or similar, for the people. He wasn't like her. But, maybe he could do it for her. She needed someone on her side while she went through all this for the people. It was part of living for her. If she needed it of him, he would do it for her.

Cyril picked the letter back up.

But I hope you'll want to be my knight. The personal bodyguard to the Archbishop. It's still a high ranking title with important duties, but at least less than some type of consort. I doubt the nobility of the realm will let their new ruler marry someone without some sort of high ranking title, so we can't avoid it entirely. So I hope you like this plan at least.

I'll write to you when I can. It took me a couple of days longer than I cared to write this one as we rode hard to the capital. The war may be over, but there are still plenty of pockets of resistance as well as bandit groups that have popped up in the chaos. I hope you'll want to write to me too.

Again, I'm sorry. I've also gone and fallen in love and gotten you into this mess. It's not fair to you.

Byleth

His eyes lingered on her name. She didn't sign it as, or even call herself Archbishop the whole letter. He had a feeling that even if they had named her Empress instead of Archbishop, she would still only sign her name as Byleth. Just Byleth.

Yes, that only confirmed what he decided to do. He would follow the plan put before him by her. And one day he would be her knight and be by her side once more. As the first Almyran knight. But for now, the monastery still needed loads more work done to get it ready for the next school year.

Cyril stood in line with the others. Nervous, excited fidgeting and whispers danced between several of the students. He could feel it too. His academy uniform hadn't felt this suffocating since the first few weeks of classes.

Seteth gave the command. The two students in front of Cyril stepped toward the stage. He may not have been the top of his class, but he was close.

All of the students fanned out into a semi-circle around Seteth on the stage. Right in the front of the audience sat the Archbishop. If you didn't know she was there, you might have almost missed her. The biggest giveaway was that she sat dead center in the front with guards between her and the closest people. But she wore normal clothes and sat on a regular chair just like everyone else. The idea of trying to get her to sit in a throne-like chair made him chuckle; she would just go get a normal one herself to sit on.

For a brief moment, Cyril's eyes met hers. Though the Archbishop sat before all of them, her eyes twinkled for him. His heart hiccuped. Though he hated being on stage for so many people to look at, he was grateful nobody was close enough to see the red he knew was creeping into his face.

The ceremony passed by in a blur. Cyril hardly paid attention. Byleth's presence made his nerves dance inside him. He hadn't seen her in over a year. Neither Enbarr nor Garreg Mach had held any large scale celebrations due to the repairs still underway, so Byleth had no excuse to come here, nor the students go there. They had only been able to talk via the letters, of which he kept every one.

She did warn him that she didn't think she would have any spare time to spend with him. Her party arrived that morning and would be leaving again before nightfall. Not Byleth's choice; she wanted to stay for at least one night. But the destruction of Garreg Mach seven years ago was still too fresh in many people's minds. The citizens of Garreg Mach didn't feel safe enough having so many targets in one area again when the defenses weren't built all the way back up. And Byleth was an Archbishop of the people after all, so she conceded to their wishes of feeling safer.

Cyril completely understood. He didn't like it, but he understood. As much as he would have liked to spend even an hour with Byleth, he didn't want the people of Garreg Mach, many of which were his friends, to worry for their families' safety again. They already went through the worst of the war. But, Cyril had another plan entirely. He was going to give Byleth his next letter personally. She would have received his last one right before she left Enbarr, so even if she didn't get a chance to respond he wanted to give her this one now.

Next thing Cyril knew, Seteth was handing him the plaque that showed his brilliance in archery. That was one thing he ended up being the best at, better then even the two noble over-achievers who outranked him. Shamir made sure of that with her no-nonsense teaching style. But it also meant he missed most of the ceremony lost in his own thoughts. Eh, that was okay. He'd seen several graduation ceremonies before the war. This one was only different because it wasn't as grand of a celebration and Lady Rhea was no longer here. Besides, Byleth was here. He'd much rather steal glances at her.

Speaking of, he stole another glance at her. She smiled for him as Seteth stepped back, leaving the plaque in his hands. It took all of his training to not smile back at her like an idiot.

"Wait! Wait!" Cyril cried out as he ran after the group. "By- uh, Lady Archbishop!"

Byleth heard him that time over the crowds. She turned toward him, and when she saw him, she smiled. His heart nearly stopped.

Two guards stepped up to block his way to her as he slowed. Byleth placed a hand on one of their shoulders. He glanced at her, catching his partner's attention. They stepped back. Cyril found himself face to face with Byleth. She smiled again. He smiled back.

"I know you don't have much time, but here. I wanted to give this to you while you were still here."

Byleth's smile widened, well, widened for her, and accepted the letter. She tucked it into her bag and held out another. Held it out to him. He accepted the envelope from her. Her fingers brushed his. Completely on purpose. Electricity shot through his veins. She rubbed her fingertips together as she pulled her hand back. So she felt something too. He had to suppress the desire to reach out and touch her hand again.

"We can't linger, Lady Byleth." A guard reminded.

Byleth nodded. "I'm sorry, Cyril. See you again soon."

He couldn't speak. The electricity in his veins was too strong. Choking him up. All he could do was nod.

She wasn't wrong. It did take a little time to apply to be one of the Archbishop's guards, but his status as a graduate helped significantly. And so did a personal recommendation from Seteth. It all took a few weeks to process, including him having to travel down for trials. He wasn't the only war orphan graduate who applied, so the handful of them stuck together. All of them were accepted. It was difficult to find good people willing to fight again so soon after a war. It was where him and the other war orphan graduates could shine and help repair the country they wanted to call home.

Once again, it was all of them traveling to the capitol together. Only this time it was a bigger convoy as they were all moving there. They weren't allowed to bring much for the training portion, as they would be living in barracks for the next two years. Not that any of them owned much anyway.

They arrived in Enbarr early afternoon. It was an informal arrival, even less so than when they arrived for training. Category was taken of all of their belongings and they were shown to their temporary rooms until the rest of the recruits arrived and the barracks were prepared over the next few days. Afterward, they were given a little time to pack and unwind before the introduction ceremony for the Archbishop. Not much of a ceremony from what he understood, just them standing before Archbisop Byleth and introducing them as the new recruits to her personal guard.

Once the ceremony was over, they were released back to their rooms. Except for Cyril; the guard who led them through the ceremony stopped him. "Cyril?"

For a second, Cyril internally panicked. Did something happen? He was Almyran, he would be accused first of something, or maybe he did something to accidentally insult someone already. "Yes, sir."

"Please come with me. Lady Byleth says she knows you personally and wishes to have a social call once she's finished up the last of her daily duties."

Relief flooded him. It was followed by the electricity of excitement. He hadn't been able to talk to Byleth face to face in ages. He followed the guard, nearly bouncing with every step. The halls were long and winding, but nothing compared to the monastery he was used to. It would take a few months, but he would learn these halls. After all, it would be up to him to guard this place.

"Here we are." Of course it was here. The grandest door he'd seen, though the ones leading up to it had been getting grander by the second. What were the rest of the rooms? Probably important guest suites.

The guard standing outside the door flicked his arm backward and opened the door for them. "You may wait in the sitting room."

The sitting room? Lady Rhea had the entire topmost floor of the monastery as her rooms during her life, but she didn't have a sitting room. Only a rooftop garden. But Byleth was acting as Archbishop from the old Empress' fortress and that had to account for something. Apparently that something was a sitting room in her personal chambers.

Cyril stepped inside. They shut the door behind him. There wasn't too much sound out in the halls, but the door muffled nearly all of it into an almost eerie silence. Just the sitting room felt too large in the silence.

How did Byleth live here? For over a year?

He walked further into the room. For an Archbishop, it seemed rather simply decorated. Still decorated, but nothing was what he would call extravagant. Much like her room used to be at the monastery, and Lady Rhea's decoration tastes. Though just this sitting room was much larger than Lady Rhea's bedroom.

Even though he was told to stay in the sitting room, curiosity got the best of him. Besides, it was Byleth. She wouldn't mind. There were three doors in the room, but the one at the back was more of an archway. It led into a longer than expected, but still simply decorated hallway. He stepped down it, moving slowly toward the elegantly carved wooden door at the end, passing by another pair of doors. The grand doors were unlocked when Cyril pushed on them.

A bedroom. But not just any bedroom. The biggest Cyril had ever seen, easily three or four times larger than Lady Rhea's had been. He couldn't even see the bed frame, aside from the top of the canopy. The rest of it was blocked by decorative screens, separating it from the rest of the room. Essentially making the room around the bed much smaller.

Clever. He didn't think he could have come up with that. It was a good way to make a large room feel more manageable and cozy, though.

"Lonely, isn't it?"

Cyril nearly jumped out of his skin. Byleth stood near him, just a few steps behind. A mischievous smile pulled on her lips. Despite himself, Cyril smiled. Though he hated it when she scared him, it was still nice to be scared by her again.

Heck, it was nice to just be near her again. To hear her voice. To be close enough that he could just reach out and touch her if he wanted. And by Serios, he desperately wanted to reach out and touch her. Just brush her arm.

Then her words finally hit him. Lonely. Pain jolted his heart. She had been here, all alone, for well over a year now. Trying to make this huge room, let alone the massive suite, feel like it was actually hers.

"I'm sorry you've felt so alone." He spoke in low tones, the pressure of the silence in the room weighing on him. "But I'm here now."

She smiled. Joy twinkled in her eyes, for him. All for him. But then something cut through her expression. Something he didn't recognize. She looked away. "I won't be able to see you much."

Cyril blinked. "Why not? I'm going to be a palace guard. I'll likely not be stationed near you every day, but I'll be around."

"You're a trainee."

"Do you not see trainee's often?"

She shook her head. His heart fell. He still had two years of training to be fully palace guard. Two years more of not seeing her much. One year had been more than long enough. And he at least had Seteth and Shamir back at Garreg Mach. Here he had nobody.

Just like Byleth had nobody the past year. All of her previous students had left her to go back to their own house lands and help fix things there. Even Claude had left, though nobody knew where he went. Byleth had mentioned a few sort-of friends she had made since being Archbishop, but it was difficult to know their true intentions when you were so powerful. She would essentially be alone again for the next two years.

"Cyril, will you marry me?"

His brain shut down. What? It felt like he was trying to think through a thick fog.

"I'm sorry. That was sudden-"

"Yes." The word stumbled from his mouth before he even realized what he said. "Yes."

Her eyes fell on him. There was surprise in them, more than he'd ever seen before. His heart pounded in his ears. But he knew he meant it. "Yes I will marry you. You're the only one I want to be with; the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I will become whatever is needed of me in order to be with you. I don't think I would make a very good co-Archbishop or whatever, but I would try to make you happy."

The biggest smile he'd ever seen broke out on her face. It made his heart stutter. He couldn't help but grin back at her.

Movement caught his attention. He glanced down. Just in time to see Byleth's hand reach for his. Her fingertips brushed over the ring she gave him over a year ago before taking his hand. It nearly gave him a heart attack.

"You'll still have to do training."

"Yeah, but don't they give you leave after eleven months to go home for two months? Do you think we could get married then? You'll be doing most of the planning yourself, but I'll help when I can in letters."

"It'll keep me busy. And I'll hate to see you leave again."

"But when I come back, I'll never leave your side."