Idiosyncrasy Chapter 6, a fire emblem fanfic

Chapter Six

I hope this letter finds you well, L,

You can attempt recreating a tomb with matrices, but they would have to be repeated on every page. There is no such thing as a pocket-tome because something so small would be unable to absorb enough magic for a fireball spell.

I highly suggest buying an actual tome.

After a bunch of high-paying jobs and a lot of killing, Leonie sits in a cave going over the instructions once more. She spent enough money to feed the village twice over on the stupid book in front of her. The reason magic is cloying to the touch, the elemental affiliation designed towards fire users. Magical tomes are a special blend of wards and magic absorbing paper. Supposedly, the more pages that become inked with black designs, the more reason magic stored. White ink for faith, but those are a whole other type of tome.

"Here we go," Leonie lifts the thing onto her lap. She opens the cover, closes her eyes, and breathes. Imagines the energy pouring down her arms, through her hands, and into the pages.

Why does it smell like smoke?

Bwoosh!

Leonie swears and throws the book, pages ignited like an alcoholic bonfire. The teen gapes as her hard-earned cash prize burns to ash. When the fire's out, she hesitantly crawls forward and pokes the grey.

Her cursing echoes through the cave, "-good for nothing, piece of-"

Hope you got something pleasant out there to see, G,

I've decided not to pursue magic absorption until the Monastery. Recently, I've taken up wrestling to pass the time. If you have any tips about unarmed combat, or gauntlet training I'm really not picky, please send them.

We had a few mercenaries stop by the village the other day. The stories they told us were about how much sand is in Riegan. Is it true some temples have been buried under it?

Hope you're having more luck than I am.

Games? There weren't many games I played in my childhood. Battle of the Eagle and Lion is a favourite one around here, though everyone uses sticks since they're not old enough to be trusted with a kitchen knife. Most of the games father played with my sister and I were to train us into heirship, some to try to pull the family's Crest from us.

I'd recommend army board, but some boards and pieces can cost more then a tome. Be careful if you do go looking for a set.

Looking back, the educational games are never as fun as we'd hoped they would be.

"Leon-ie!"

"What's wrong?" the seventeen years old smiles at the kids.

"Be on my team!"

"No, she's on my team!"

"She was on your team last time!"

"Hold on," the teenager swings out her hands. "What game are you playing?"

"Colour coated!" the kids chime together.

Must be teaching colour groups to the little ones. "And I take it you two are the red and yellow captains?"

They puff up proudly, showing off their red and yellow badges. By terms of the rules, since Leonie has orange hair, she can be recruited by both. The older girl mocks a sigh, backhand to her forehead, "But why must we fight? Why can't reds and yellows and blues all work together?"

"That's not the point of the game, Leonie," the youngest one scolds her.

"Well," she throws out a wink, "why don't we team up together against the blue?"

The kids look to each other. One holds up a finger, "Stay here."

Leonie watches, vaguely bemused as they hold a whispered conference between each other. Cheating a bit with Heightened Hearing, the teenager listens to how they're going to betray her after they take down the main blue fighters together.

She's so proud.

"Alright," Red Leader nods, coming back to shake her hand. "We'll work together."

Leonie kneels down to shake at even height. They fist bump to seal the deal.

When it's over, and Leonie is being dogpiled by the blues while the reds and yellows high-five with the blue leader about teaming up in the end, Leonie is just happy she taught them something.

The high-fives and fist bumps, not the backstabbing. Though she is proud they're growing up knowing how to make alliances and knowing when to cut ties.

It's a life skill they all need.

We had a bit of snow, if you can believe it. I know the Kingdom gets some every year, but the last time I saw snow I was digging for truffles when a herd of pronghorn stormed past. Never saw them again; no idea why they were even in the area.

Have you ever seen any odd animals before?

Are you still practising upside-down archery? I've found the perfect teacher if you ever decide to take my offer.

In Crest vision, the words, 'another miss' float on gold-white strands. Leonie blinks to see how off she was this time.

Really off.

"I know," the teenager groans, swapping her bow for a poorly stitched together quiver. "It's just hard to see." When everything not-Crest-strand is black. The trees, the ground, the target.

Herself.

Back to position, quiver switched with bow, Leonie closes her eyes. Breathes. She can't risk Return when she can't see where they go. Crest bonds won't take on unimportant, unthinking objects. Background props are all black, are all void of colour and light, silhouettes that are deemed unworthy treasures to the Crests.

She's trying to learn how to see them, differentiate the void. Hit a target nearly blind. Even if it's not a skill she'll ever use, it is a challenge. If only she'd have better luck than throwing a javelin while hanging from a tree.

'Missed again.'

The unhelpful commentary of her stalker at least introduces a dual purpose. Not that he realizes, but Leonie's becoming better at ignoring his Crest's yearning to add her to his hoard. She's still working up the courage to ask about training that particular immunity, but it will have to be soon. She is seventeen, and the world will not wait.

Time is still moving forward; Leonie is still alive. At least she hasn't screwed up the future enough for a bounty on her head.

Still practicing. Going to you would take me at least twice as long to reach the Monastery and I don't enjoy backtracking.

In case you haven't heard, Heir Gloucester is in the Kingdom. Some fancy magic school; I bet they pay for their students' tomes. I don't understand the big deal, but every person I talk to seems to think it's an achievement.

Do you have any funny magic accident stories? I once frozen my hand to a tree. Full ice encasing. I do not recommend it.

My nephew will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. His writing skills are rather poor, he grew up using a different language's alphabet, and I thought writing to you would help him learn faster. The second page is his letter, please excuse the shortness. I'm sure he will write more as his penmanship progresses.

It would be appreciated if your letters were simple to read, as he is also relearning to read our written language. I hope this letter finds you well.

Hello.

I already like him better than you.

How is everyone adjusting? Was the culture shock bad?

Hi C,

If your uncle asks why I like you better, it is because you have yet to try bribing my loyalty.

Harsh words, but fair enough. We are all fine here, thank you for asking. It has been nice having tea with my sister and teaching my nephew when I can. My father has unfortunately been monopolizing their time, so I try to make our moments together last. Do you have anyone you can share a good cup of tea with?

What does culture shock mean? I have never heard of it before.

A small fireball hovers over her upright palm, Leonie's other hand holding a hollowed-out stone around it. The makeshift flashlight reveals the secrets of the underground cave while she thinks about her responses to the letters.

What is culture shock? The disorientated feeling of being suddenly exposed to an unfamiliar environment, whether it be the culture, way of life, attitudes, or surroundings. To Leonie, it is most recently found in the anxiety, panic, loneliness, confusion, paranoia, and depression one feels when they open their eyes and breathe after having died, realizing they are a small person surrounded by strangers in a place that does not even recognize the past-life's first language. This is not the answer suitable for Godfrey's nephew's situation – at least, she hopes it's not – and it is scary to think that culture shock is not a known term.

What is culture shock? Moving to a different country with no prior experience or knowledge of the people's lifestyle.

What is culture shock? Being told all your life that killing is wrong, that I think therefore I am, that every living being deserves a chance, and then being given a weapon and told to hunt because there isn't enough food in the forest for a whole village to be vegetarians.

Culture shock is a lot of things. Standing on a busy street, hearing words but not understanding. From the clothing, to the beliefs, to the land itself. Culture is how groups express themselves, shock is the feeling. The unsettling, upsetting, or surprising. The reason the reborn cry.

Leonie's footsteps halt, palm light angled towards a crystalized stalagmite. Beyond it appears to be a cavern. There is a sound, almost like rainfall hitting puddles. She moves towards it, fingers brushing on the shiny stones that a part of her yearns to make into a weapon. Knives, swords, lance or arrow heads. She still hasn't figured out the mechanics of gauntlets, and honestly her own two hands are fine enough with magic and buffs.

…maybe rebirth is more trauma then shock. Leonie can't bring herself to expand her small range of emotions, not with what's to come. Everyone around her will have enough emotional turmoil to deal with without her added two cents. She does miss real happiness, though. Even the chocolate pseudo-effect would be nice, but at this point it's hard to say whether it will deliver migraines from the chemicals it releases.

Leonie misses a lot of things, but that wouldn't be a good reply either.

She halts at the edge of a yawning cavern, light reflecting over stones who have never experienced the full effect of light particles and waves before. It brightens the area considerably, the lake in the center appearing grey against the faint sandy brown edges. Leonie breathes sharply, watching the top ripple in splashes.

"Fish," she hisses, taking one step after another.

Old, dark dwelling lifeforms sustain the ecosystem, rock bottom moss glowing in the dark when the palm light goes out. The fish range all sizes, small ones leaping out and darting through cracks in the walls. Larger fish look at her before slowly moving on. There seems to be coral reefs scattered throughout, closer to the center while a river quietly runs in and out of the lake with smoothed stones at the bottom.

Leonie Water Walks the shore, easily staying on top of the barely there waves. The magic comes easily here, she barely has to use any of her own. Gets the ward on the second try, even. This darkness isn't cloying, condensing, or making her twitch. This feels safe, no judgement necessary.

She'll teach herself how to fish, may even be able to store them away for future meals. Leonie doesn't want to tip the balance. There is an overabundance in the lake, only the medium sized fish being the largest to escape. Maybe it won't ruin itself with her interference.

The belief should be enough, but for the first time Leonie truly hopes – prays – that this place will survive her visits.

Hi L,

I will be sure to try when I have something to bribe you with.

How are you?

Thank you for explaining culture shock. It has given us a new perspective with how my nephew is coping and I think we can help him better adapt.

How have things been with you? You mentioned in your last letter that your faith magic is beginning to come along? I still recommend having a tome to store magic, it's harder to have faith or reason working properly in the middle of a battle.

We have had a few colts born recently. I was hoping for a filly out of one of them, but it happens sometimes. We may begin selling them in a few months, if you want first claim let me know. You would have to come out here to see them, but I am sure you can make it before the other bidders appear.

If staying on the ground isn't your thing, our wyvern breeders tell us the clutch should be all hatched by the new year. My sister is a great flyer, I'm sure she would love to teach you. Why not give it a chance?

Leonie snorts midway through Godfrey's letter. She shakes her head, glancing out the window of the pub. The rains continue to fall without end. Happy birthday to her.

Once the new school year begins, it will be time to send in her application. She can't put off the last bit of training anymore.

But first, the pocket change and essay revisions. Commoners must write at least three pages on why they support the Church of Seiros and want to become knights. Leonie is writing sheer bull.

Hey L,

Only fine? Well, the weather has not changed much here. My uncle has allowed me to go hunting with him, not by flying though. Only on horseback. I do enjoy riding but would like to do it when I feel like it.

To answer your question, yes, I am eating. The food can be very different here, but I am getting used to it.

My turn: what is the most interesting thing you have ever hunted?

Friendliest of greetings, L,

What a fine day it is for me. The sun is shining, and no one has tried to kill me in a week. Of course, now that I have jinxed it with this letter, I'll be sure to tell you all about how I saved the day in my next one.

The poetry books here are all so odd. The structure and timing are all over the place, especially in the church hymns. I guess you're used to them. It was the literature I was most excited for, if you know of any books with organized poetry verses please send help. I'm drowning in awkward pauses.

Can you tell I've been busy trying to avoid my problems?

Your favourite,

Like when the Emperor of the Adrestian Empire lost his power, the change in heirship to House of Riegan is not something missed. The new heir will one day take over the roundtable, be the representative and face of the Leicester Alliance for many. All peace talks with other nations go through them, and only by committing the murder of the Archbishop or the end of the Riegan bloodline would it be enough to remove House of Riegan from that power.

The new heir's name is Claude von Riegan. He holds the Crest of Riegan and will be the future leader of the Golden Deer house at Garreg Mach Monastery next year, though that last bit has yet to be announced. Leonie doesn't remember hearing about Riegan being in turmoil as they looked for an heir, would have thought that'd be something the people of Gloucester would have latched onto, but maybe it was something more commonly known by nobles or political players than the people of Fódlan. There is a lot in the background she does not have privilege to see, not being a Goddess or Main Character.

What she does know, that only a handful are likely ever in-the-know about, is that Claude's biological father is the King of Almyra. Claude is heir to two peoples, both of which would like to see the other dead or conquered.

Edelgard has her tortured backstory, a future of war.

Dimitri has the history of his loved ones slaughtered, a future of hatred.

Rhea has the past, unhelpful to the future.

Byleth has The Beginning, and the end.

Edelgard has Hubert.

Dimitri has Dedue.

Rhea has Seteth and Flayn, Catherine and Cyril.

Byleth has their students and a voice in their head.

Claude's future is in flex. He could have no one.

Leonie sends her application three times to make sure it makes it to the Monastery. At the very least, she'll make sure Claude has her until the end of the Fódlan year, even if he doesn't want her.

Howdy C,

The poetry in Fódlan is terrible. I'll even settle for something that rhymes if there's no structed stanza in any of the lessons. I made up and taught the kids of my village most of our nursery rhymes so they could have some fun with poetry and singing. The church songs are not my forte.

I can't recommend you any books since, again, I taught my village anything resembling creative poetry. If you want to throw poetry at me, I'm receptive to it. Be warned if you ask for something, mine mostly go along the lines of:

Bottle of ink, ready the mail,

Why is paper never on sale

So don't. Ask.

When your problems are assassins, I'd say keep avoiding them. Looking forward to hearing about your very heroic fight for your life. I am really hoping you send a letter before this gets to you. You know, since you've just causally admitted you've been targeted by assassins before.

If I have to hunt down your killers, there better be money involved.

A very worried L

Have you ever repeated mistakes L,

I find myself very interested in Fódlan's history. I have yet to find a book in the family's library that explains history outside of religion. By the Imperial Calendar, Fódlan is over a millennium old. If history is correct, the years only began once Seiros granted ruling right to the first emperor. What happened before? Why is there no history when there had to have been something before Seiros?

If this is a difficult topic for you, I will not bring it up again. Besides history lessons, I've been playing with the wyvern brood. They aren't ready for flight training, too small still, but it's been nice playing with them before their talons grow in.

Have you ever trained animals? Any tips for a newbie?

Having my fingers nipped by baby wyverns,

In the clearing where the golden deer once lead a charge against a monstrous wolf, Leonie pauses. The magic in the air is even, leveled, with no chance of increasing unless tampered with. She has no idea how monsters are formed, and really isn't sure she wants to find out.

All Leonie needs to figure out are the weak spots.

"I need your help," the teenager speaks to the open air. The interest peaks, but he doesn't show himself.

The Crest, though, feels like it's everywhere.

No poem this time, C?

It doesn't offend me. I'm interested in history too, but I only like learning it so I don't repeat mistakes. Letters are not really the place to talk about these kinds of things. Be careful.

I wish I could see a wyvern brood. We don't even get any pegasus out my way, so I'm stuck on the ground for the foreseeable future. I haven't trained any animals myself, but I've heard the number one trade secret is to not show fear. Good luck with that.

Unfortunately, I don't know much about Fódlan's history. What are the highlights you've read about?

Woefully undereducated,

Hark L,

The moon appears after the rains,

Future brightens on the horizon.

On the turbulent winds,

Steady are the wyvern.

For who am I to hold them back?

Okay, okay, not my best work, but you get the point. I am still not allowed to ride one. It's like they think I'm going to run away with their highly trained mounts or something.

They say you can't catch a rainbow, but I still would love to try again.

Anyways, now that letters are being sent once more, how have you been? I've been bored out of my mind with lessons and being cooped up inside. It's not like I'm going to need half of this stuff anyways. All I need to know is what spoon to not use so I don't accidently propose marriage. Easy, right? Well, did you know three different dessert spoons can say that depending on where they're placed in sorbet? I can't unknown it.

Fódlan is weird. There isn't any flower language, but you can talk to people through cutlery. Why?

Going stir crazy,

"Alright," Leonie huffs, sweat dripping through her clothing as she stands with her back to where the golden deer hides. "Again."

For such a small piece of Crest, it burns when focused on her. Leonie grits her teeth, repelling it best she can. There is no option but to force the pressured bond cables away. At least she no longer has to use Crest vision to push them, but no less strain as her body pricks with heat and needles on her skin. She can stop her blood from boiling, from creating the rainbow broken strands that yearn to connect with something. She can force it back enough her skin doesn't go red at the physical wanting to tie down.

It is getting easier to repel, but it's still not good enough.

Leonie gasps and staggers into a tree. The pain stops.

"I'm okay," she huffs out, feeling the worry in the air. For once she misses the rain, how it cooled her down. Sweat drips off her fingertips. "I'm okay."

When she's recovered, they go again,

And again.

Until the magic in the air is gone and her body tries to turn practically non-existent fat into energy.

"Thank you," she says to the air, the golden deer still watching from wherever it hides. She hears it's replying trill, a morose sound at putting her through this. "If you didn't help me, I'm not sure how I would be able to go to the Monastery."

The air around her changes, telling her she doesn't have to go. That she could stay. It could help.

They've been over it before. Leonie turns down his plea and his request she join his horde. She stumbles back home, slipping into the quiet and empty house with nary a question of where her father is. She strips off her sweat stained shirt, wishing not for the first time that they had a mirror. That's a noble privilege, same with bathtubs and showers. She'll have to bathe in the stream, cast warming charms on herself so she doesn't freeze.

Leonie pauses when she glances at her nightstand, like she has for months now. A soft smile crosses her lips, orange eyes glued to the acceptance letter a moment longer.

Her mind has memorized her plan by now. Step One: Leave mid-February – Pegasus Moon – to get to the Monastery in time for the testing into full-time classes. Step Two: Pass the testing and get into the full-time curriculum with the rest of Byleth's main students. Step Three: Save Jeralt at the end of the year.

Of course, the first step is always the easiest. Not a lot can go wrong getting herself to the school, she's made sure of that. She can out speed those she needs to and satisfy the urge to kill with those who choose to be a problem. Easy.

Choosing which weapons to take with her are the hard part. She'd take them all if she could.

It's a wonderful feeling, being nineteen again. Practically a middle-aged woman in the eyes of Fódlan.

Wow C,

That boring? Did they take away your pranking supplies again? By the way, nice poem. You know I enjoy anything that rhymes, I'm simple like that.

The art of utensils is a terrible thing, really. I bought a book on it just so I didn't offend anyone at a bar on accident. Did you know eating venison with your knife hand's pinkie up means 'I'm itching for a bar fight?' But only in the Alliance, in the Kingdom it means I'm ready for a one-night stand and in the Empire cutting food with your pinkie on the knife is considered rude.

You have that to look forward to. Have fun.

Speaking of all this learning, I was accepted into Garreg Mach Monastery for this coming school year. So, good news is I can send you letters for free because of the Monastery's free postal service. Bad news is that you'll have to wait a bit longer for my letters, and any you send after Ethereal Moon likely won't reach me. I'll send you and G a letter once I'm at the Monastery, so don't stress too much. I'm sure I'll have a lot to tell you after three months of silence.

Don't get too bored out there, alright? If you're really desperate, you can always try writing a book. I'd crack open my wallet to buy it.

I'd try to draw a flower on here, but I don't have a clue what anything besides a rose means. You'll have to find some definitions for me in your fancy family library.

Off to fight for the right to learn,

10.

New student L,

I'll meet you at the Monastery.

New student,

Up in a tree, Leonie turns the latest letter from her pen pal over and over. It arrived near the beginning of the new year – four months until game start – and a week later she's still worried. Her reply was sent off days after processing the ominous words, doubt creeping into her mind. She doesn't want to meet face-to-face, doesn't want to start liking this person. Even out of respect for Godfrey, she'd feel inclined to keep an eye on the kid.

It would be so easy to cut off, to ignore, but that isn't what makes them human. She still wants that potential friendship, and her spot with the Golden Deer Eight isn't certain. Leonie is the social weak link of the class, her only duty to fixate unhealthily on Jeralt. She holds no importance to the politics, no sway and no say to any of the next leaders of Fódlan.

If she weren't so irritating, Leonie would be forgettable.

If she weren't so emotionally dead inside, she would want to be friends with C in a heartbeat.

Leonie turns the letter over again, gaze casting over the forest. She freezes for one, heart stopping moment as colour flashes through the branches. The nineteen years old stuffs the letter away, climbing to her feet and stealthily moving from tree to tree for a better look.

The browns, blacks, and yellows blend in rather well.

The pink does not.

"What are you doing now?" Hilda complains, leaning against a tree. Leonie stops high above them – no one ever looks up – wrapped in Invisibility two trees in front of the pair. Leonie resists looking at the Crests that ignore her, there will be time for that at the Monastery.

"What it looks like?" Claude jokes. He fiddles with bow, smoothly hooking on an arrow. "Maybe catching something will lift the village's spirits."

Hilda makes a disgusted noise. "I'm not carrying anything back."

Leonie's too focused on what Claude's aiming at. A deer, a buck, one most certainly part for the golden deer's collection. She spends no time wondering why it's grazing alone. No, the gut-sinking terror at realizing the golden deer shadows her every move takes precedent. Leonie releases Invisibility and the Crest diverter as she slips off the tree, upping Shock Absorption and Speed to their limit.

Her feet sting impacting with the ground. Her appearance is enough to startle Claude into firing. With Speed blurring her, she easily grabs the arrow an inch from her face, flexing to force it back.

"What," Leonie begins, low deadpan even if her face is smiling its automatic look, "are you two doing out here?"

Why are we meeting now?

Claude lets out a soft, "Whoa."

"Are you a Sauin villager?" Hilda stands straight, head high and trying to shield away the bit of fear.

Why are you in the middle of nowhere Gloucester? "I am. Name's Leonie, who are you?"

"Claude von Riegan," the tallest of the three says, reaching out a hand like he means to shake before awkwardly putting it on his hip in a short bow. The smile doesn't reach his eyes, the bow hasn't left his hands, but he at least seems amused by the turn of events. "And this is the lovely Hilda Goneril. You wouldn't happen to be going to Garreg Mach Monastery this year, would you, Leonie?"

Hilda hisses, "Claude-"

No, seriously, what the f**k?

Leonie lifts an eyebrow at them, her own rattling smoothed behind an easy mask of 'I'm not angry, everything's fine'. "I am. Why?"

"We're here to steal you-"

"That's where we're off to," Hilda breaks in, leaning back against the tree now that there's no trouble. "This pitstop was to offer a ride. Is anyone else coming?"

While the cursing mantra loops in her head, Leonie forces the weakness from her voice and explains, "No, it's only me."

-what the f-

"Perfect," the pinkette turns and begins the walk back. "Then we can be on our way."

Claude's tight smile widens as he motions, "Ladies first?"

Leonie can't help the snort, holding out the arrow so he has to walk beside her to take it. "I'm aiming for the mercenary certificate, so chivalry is a bit moot to use on me. By the way," she cuts in before he can quip back, "I don't recommend hunting any of the deer around here unless you want to piss off his goldenness."

Claude blinks, smile turning wry, "His goldenness?"

"There's a golden deer that's staked land around here. Skewers anyone who hurts his kin."

He chuckles, disbelief not hidden. "You have a golden deer around here?"

Leonie's face sours a bit, "He likes to follow me on hunts."

Claude laughs, making Hilda stop and turn to face them. "The only one I met tried to stampede over me."

"Golden deer story?" Hilda drawl, a grin finally pulling up her face. "My brother and I only saw one once. It saved us from bandits."

Mine's watching us now.

They break from the forest line, village before them. Leonie pauses for half a step, muttering out, "No f**king way."

Under a lot of mistrustful looks, Godfrey catches sight of them and waves, relief on his face, "Hey! We were looking for you three!"

Leonie doesn't shut down because no f**king way was she so fixated on having a person to talk to that she missed this. Just because they have the same green eyes, just because there's only one full-time Golden Deer student whose name begins with the letter C, means nothing.

Godfrey cuts his way over; Claude throws an arm around the orange haired teen's shoulders, saying, "We found Leonie."

"Claude, hands off."

"He's fine," Leonie replies automatically. It is fine, she knows because last life she had touch aversion. No, stop, focus on the now. "What are you doing here?"

"We're all going to the Monastery," Godfrey explains. Claude drops his arm, him and Hilda leaving towards the wagon with a solid covering displaying all the noble Crests, "and since we were passing through on the way to pick up the last student, I thought why not grab you as well. If you need time to pack-"

"No," Leonie twitches, eyes darting to the crowd slowly forming. The unfavourable looks go towards Godfrey, while a head of what looks like blue violet hair is getting mobbed by children and unbound Gloucester adults alike. "Everything is ready to go."

"Then get it and we'll be on our way." Godfrey smiles and- "Thanks for finding my nephew and his friend. I told them not to wander off but obviously that didn't work."

Leonie feels her whole worldview shatter. She's stronger than curling up into a ball and keening, no matter how much she wants to. Her smile is bright, not a hint revealing how her insides are now cold knives of dread. She practically sprints into her house, reapplying the diverter ward now that no one is around. Her hands shake as she pulls out the emergency bag.

Eyes wide, she asks the empty bed, "What have I done?"

She lets the dread stay a bit more, feeling so strongly a moment longer, before reigning it in. Leonie smiles her bright, excited smile as she feels empty inside. None of it really matters, after all. She cannot turn back time, and the truth is she would never want to. Godfrey and C – Claude – have made the monotony bearable, let her hope for a little more to the world outside the life of a bloodthirsty villager. Even if they'll hate her by the end, she's grateful for every letter of theirs in her pocket space.

Leonie stops by the food prep area, taking her favourite knife out of spite. She is never coming back, after all. That is one character trait her new self doesn't have, doesn't want to repay all the village has done for her.

New Leonie doesn't care what happens to these people. She got them to sustain themselves, and now they survive or rot. Not her problem.

"Leonie," her father meets her halfway to the wagon a Crestless knight told her to ride in. There is still a bit of a crowd, Lorenz putting on a good show as he chats with his people. "Sir Riegan said you two have been in contact for years. Is he the rich merchant you write to?"

She doesn't have to lie or pretend for him anymore. The bitterness may not run deep, but she's never forgiven him for a lot of things. He may have tried to be a good father, but at the end of the day he's still the same person who told her to eat her kill. He's still the man that slept through half her teachers and told her she'd have to make her own money, her own way there, if she wanted to go to the Monastery.

He's the person who hates someone she respects, and the cold apathy kicks away for a moment to remind her that she doesn't like that.

Leonie smiles full of teeth and dead eyes, "Goodbye, dad."

Godfrey, at the head of her designated wagon, looks concerned, staring a little too hard at her one bag.

Leonie gives a friendly smile, "I'm ready to go."

"Alright…" he helps her up. She looks in while he calls the other wagons to get moving.

Six of her seven future classmates are before her. Only two can see her.

"Hi!" the oldest of them chirps, drawing all their attention to her. "My name is Leonie Pinelli. It's nice to meet you all."

Alright, C. I'll see you there.

A/N: In which plans never survive first contact.

Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to ShadowWolf223, MiserableSOUL660, PsychedAnon, xenocanaan, guisniperman, Cyan Sung-Sun, and BlueBunnyims for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!

Ashen Wolves DLC content comes out soon, and depending on what happens there my extremely vague hints may or may not follow through.

Food for thought: animals turned monsters in this story lose all connection to any Crest bonds they may have had, making them dark-void looking in Leonie's Crest vision. Turning into a monster via Crest Stone however…

It may be a while before Byleth shows up, but at least the Golden Deer cast is almost all together. Anyone want to guess who's missing?

I hope everyone has a fantastic day. Thanks again for reading