Wisps of blue and the sound of dripping. Water? Blood? She couldn't be sure.
A towering figure overlooking her. Laughing. Melodic, wretched. Soothing, disgusting. Peaceful, horrifying. No manner of words could describe the feeling as its eyes bore down on her.
No. There was one.
B̴͉̈́e̷̦̹͊͊a̴̞̲̘̫͓͋̅̚š̶̺͐́͝t̶͔̦̔̏̑̏͠.
The word echoed in her mind. Pulsating. Grating. A kaleidoscope of colors that threatened to overtake her vision. A blend of madness that encapsulated every bit of her being.
And through it all, she could feel it. Not fear. Not rage.
Pleasure.
A disgusting pleasure that reached into the realm of excess. A pleasure she would gladly clean herself from. And yet she couldn't.
She remained frozen, lying on the ground.
No, she couldn't let it end this way. Not yet. Not when that thing still existed. Not after everything it had done.
Her fingers curl, and through truly herculean effort, pulled herself upward. She wouldn't last long. Her S̷̩̀p̶̜͑i̵̺̓r̷̐ͅḯ̶̩t̶̡̓ ̶̣̊Ǒ̵̤r̷̪̒i̸̲͝g̸̩̚i̸̪̅n̷̮͋ was already damaged. Any longer and it would collapse. It was a miracle that she hadn't already faded. Only her I̵n̶d̸e̴p̶e̷n̴d̵e̸n̶t̸ ̶A̵c̵t̵i̸o̴n̴ kept her grounded.
Still, it would be enough for one last shot.
The world floated, the water at her feet rising. No, not rising. She was falling instead. Perfect. A one way trip for the both of them. Neither of them would live to see the next day.
Her hands gripped the pistols as she continued to fall, her dark skin covered in bloo-
…
Byleth awoke with a start. Frantically, she scanned the room, her room. It only took a few seconds to calm down as she realized what had happened.
A dream. Or a nightmare, more like. She hadn't had one of those in a very long time, not since she was a child. Regardless, she had to calm her heart down. It wouldn't do for her to survive everything she had, only to die in her sleep from something as simple as a heart attack.
"Byleth? Are you alright?" Sothis was worried, obviously. This was the first time that she would have seen Byleth act the way she did. The Professor waved her worries away. Really, it was nothing to worry about. Thinking about it, it was a miracle she hadn't had more with how she lived.
Mercenary work was usually pretty bloody, and it showed just how weird Byleth was that this was the first nightmare she had since starting said work.
'Just a nightmare, don't think too much of it.'
She shook the feeling that she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince Sothis.
…
Life at Garreg Mach eventually returned to a bit of normalcy. Classes continued, and Byleth taught as much as she could. The Blue Lions were getting back into the groove of their lessons, and Byleth kept her focus sharp, avoiding the distractions of that dream. She kept the Sword near her at all times, even keeping it during her classes. Surprisingly, just being near it was enough to keep her much more focused, to the point where even her students were surprised.
It was no secret that she wasn't the best Professor. Sure, she could teach how to fight, how to win a battle. But that didn't mean she was trained as an instructor. Byleth excelled in practical situations, where she could show more than tell.
And yet, as she continued her lessons, the better she was able to teach. It seemed like the Archer was onto something. She, of course, hadn't tried to separate from the Sword ever since she got it back. She seriously didn't want to feel that pain again. Neither did Sothis. But the secondary boon it provided was well worth the inconvenience of having to always have it near her.
As the days went on, Byleth found herself relying more and more on the Sword of the Creator. It was...unhealthy, she wanted to say. She'd lived her entire life absent of it, and now, she physically couldn't go without it.
Jeralt had confronted her about it. He was off on another mission for the duration of the attack on the mausoleum, and had only heard about it when he got back. To put it bluntly, her father was not happy. It had taken her a good amount of pleading and reassurances to keep him from marching up to Rhea.
It wasn't like Byleth was blind to how shit the entire situation had been. The intruders and spies should never have gotten that far, and yet, here they were. Jeralt had every right to grill the Archbishop for all of that.
But it wouldn't make a difference. It had already happened, and while Jeralt himself was already based in Garreg Mach. Even if he argued against Rhea, it could be said that her father held just as much responsibility as she did with the monastery's security failure. He relented after she had finally managed to convince him, taking up almost an entire day to do so.
Which only made his focus on Byleth's little predicament more than anything else.
Byleth sighed as she sat at her desk, the Sword of the Creator leaning against the wall beside her. Jeralt's words still echoed in her head, and though she'd convinced him that she was fine with it, the man was obviously wary of the Sword.
She was no fool. Jeralt knew something, and he was taking great strides to hide it from her. She didn't know why it took her this long to figure it out, when it was plain to see for just about anyone who looked even slightly close. Maybe it had to do with her heightened perception from the Sword?
A question to answer at another time. Above all else, she trusted her father. He hadn't led them wrong before, and she'd be damned if she started questioning him now.
Her thoughts were interrupted as a knock on her door sounded. Somehow, the knocks were nervous. Byleth sighed as she smiled to herself wryly. There was only one person she knew that could do that.
"Come in, Flayn, the door is open."
Just a moment's hesitation before the door opened, and in walked the aforementioned Flayn. One could easily see the familial resemblance with Seteth, her brother, from her looks. Her nerves on the other hand?
"How…did you know it was I, Professor?" Flayn was at times timid and shy, but could be the most optimistic person within the entire monastery.
"Lucky guess." Byleth had to chuckle. Yes, Flayn could be nervous, especially with her naivety and formality turning off other people and thus increasing her social isolation. For Byleth, however, that just made her a much needed breath of fresh air from the rowdiness that her students could display.
Flayn smiled softly, her nerves easing just a bit at Byleth's words. "You always seem to know," she said, stepping further into the room. Her eyes briefly darted toward the Sword of the Creator, but she quickly looked away.
Byleth noticed but didn't comment. "What brings you here, Flayn?"
Flynn made a small, startled noise, before nodding towards her, "Oh yes, my fa-brother is requesting your presence in the main hall." Nodding back, Byleth packed up the papers laid on her desk and gathered them up. It wouldn't do to let them wait, and if Seteth was asking for her, it was likely Rhea who was really asking.
Politely, Byleth ignored Flayn as she realized she had almost said something she shouldn't have. Internally, even Sothis couldn't help but chuckle at the girl. Really, just about the entire monastery knew by now, with how little Flayn could keep a secret.
It was still impolite to mention it though, and no one wanted to be the first one to break the news to either her, or Seteth.
…
"I have a mission for you, Professor. I hope that you won't mind."
And it seemed that she was right. Internally, Byleth had to sigh. Barely over with pleasantries and Rhea was already assigning her to a mission.
Apparently, some bandit leader had been running amok in the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and had stolen an artifact called the Lance of Ruin. Truth be told, she didn't listen much beyond that. As much as Rhea tried to pretty it up, at the end of the day, her mission was 'kill people, get thing, go home'.
Was she simplifying it too much? Maybe. To be fair, they were being joined by what amounted to Dimitri's adoptive father, as well as a Knight of Seiros. But at the end of the day, she was doing mercenary work. Work that she had done for a long, long time.
They would set out after a few days to prepare. In the meantime, Dimitri had approached her with a troubled look on his face. Immediately, the Professor frowned. Dimitri wasn't one to show worry like that, and absolutely nothing was supposed to be wrong.
"Might I have a moment of your time, Professor?"
"Dimitri." She nodded. The Prince was always one for formality, and she'd eventually gotten used to just letting him continue, "What's wrong?"
"Let me preface this by saying that, a while back, I offered the orphans of the monastery training. Sword training, to be precise. However, they denied my offer, stating that they already had a sword instructor and that they had been teaching them for a few weeks now." Dimitri stated in such a rush that Byleth had to pause. She hadn't seen the younger man as frantic as he was now, bar a few extenuating circumstances.
"My curiosity was piqued, I must admit. I requested that I meet their instructor. Only, when I met him…I…"
Scratching her head, Byleth had to raise an eyebrow, "Please don't tell me you suddenly found yourself attracted to whoever that was." Really, the entire conversation was starting to sound like a teenager trying to figure out what a crush was. It was both sad, and embarrassing.
Still, Byleth was their Professor, and she would do her best, despite her inexperience, to help her students. Whether that be through battle or their love lives. She just had a clear preference for the former.
Coughing wildly, Dimitri shook his head rapidly, "No! Professor, I-look, I believe it's better if you see for yourself."
…
"...I can't believe this."
"Do you understand now, Professor?"
"Yes, I understand why you were worried. No, I don't understand why he's doing this."
An annoyed click of the tongue as several children, the youngest Byleth could guess being no more than eight, performed sets of downward swings with their wooden training swords. Not an uncommon sight, to be fair. What was, was the man overseeing the training.
"If you're here to gawk, I'd suggest you do it off the field." The Archer stood with his arms crossed, scowling at them. His eyes slid over to one of the children, before speaking once more, "You, quit lagging behind. You're three swings less than you should be."
"Why, why is he training children?!" Sothis couldn't help but gasp out loud. Byleth agreed wholeheartedly. When Dimitri brought her out to see what the orphans were doing, she certainly didn't expect to see the dark-skinned Archer putting the children through their paces.
"What?" The Archer scoffed, "You think I was going to spend every moment of my existence standing guard?"
"I just didn't expect this, is all."
A shrug, "What can I say, it's the most efficient way to make sure this place is protected when I'm not around."
"Is efficiency all you can think about?" Byleth was admittedly annoyed that the Archer could only think of the children as nothing but tools. Then again, this was the Archer, so things could have been worse.
The dark-skinned man scoffed, "They were going to be conscripted by the Church anyway. Better I train them now so that they'd actually be able to do their jobs than let whatever idealistic bullshit seep too far into them."
Byleth was certain she could hear the faintest sense of bitterness in his voice. One so distant, that she doubted even the Archer heard it. Still, that wasn't what she focused on. No, it was the tiny voice that she could hear alongside that bitterness. Nobody else heard it, not even Sothis.
Garbled, the voice of a child.
And yet, she understood it clearly.
Ḭ̸͑'̷̤̓ĺ̸̥l̴̮̒ ̵̥̉d̸̙́o̵̝̓ ̶̬͂i̸͇͗ṱ̴͊ ̶̘͂f̸̮͠ò̴̹ṟ̵̊ ̶̤̇ỹ̷̼ǫ̶̑ù̷̦!̵̖̂ ̴̬̈I̸̘͛'̶̪̎l̶͈̿l̴͙̒ ̸͎͐b̴͙́e̴̡͠ ̴͎̓a̸̠͆ ̸͖̋H̴̲͝e̴̹͒r̶̨̔õ̵̩ ̵̱͝o̶̪̚f̸̳͌ ̶͓́J̵͙̀u̷̹͝s̵̅͜t̸̳̄i̷̜̇c̸̡̀ë̶͍́!̴̤̌
…
Commissioned by: FireRogueWolf25
A/N: If you like what I do and want to support me, check out my P-atreon at P-atreon•com(slash)Almistyor.
And a special thanks to: FireRogueWolf25, brutalcrab and Tassimo.