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“But I’m sure no matter where you end up, you’ll come running at the chance to see your adorable little Golden Deer again, right?”
“Yes.”
“No hesitation, huh? I like that. You hear that, Deer? One step out of line and our beloved Professor will be right there, waiting.”
“With a heavy textbook, Claude.”
Byleth awoke soaked to the bone and tired like she had never been before. Her body ached, at first, and then when she opened her eyes to see the dim sunset, the pain dissipated. It was gone, like so much morning dew in the sunlight. A spike of terror went through her, and she prayed the students got out safely. To whom she prayed, she had no idea.
Protect the little ones, if you have any power at all anymore. If there’s anything out there. Please.
She hauled herself up, meeting the shocked eyes of a man in tired, common clothes. He opened and shut his mouth several times, but she assumed he’d be able to answer her questions.
“Hello?”
“Hello? You were dead.”
Maybe he’d be able to answer her questions.
“Where am I?”
“Near Garreg Mach, though it’s more like a bandit underbelly than a monastery now.”
“What? Bandits?” It was the Imperial Army that had attacked the school. Had bandits followed? Was the monastery taken? She strained to remember anything about the battle that was not Rhea… But she struggled heavily with the weight of her own exhaustion. “I need to go, my students-- They’re not safe—”
“Students? No students have stepped foot in that place in five years.” Five years. No matter where you end up— “That place is a ruin now.”
“I must go there. Thank you for your help.” Byleth stood, pulling her cloak away from her body and inspecting the pockets. Terror raged in her gut, and grief too, mixed in like some decay in a garden. But she needed to focus, she would be of no use to anyone consumed with fear this way.
“You’re crazy if you think you can handle all those bandits on your own, lady.”
“I am no lady. I am a professor,” Byleth corrected, rummaging in her cloak’s pockets for her trusty knives and— oh, good, there they were. She froze.
The little brown things she’d been carrying around, waiting for the best time to plant them, the little tulip bulbs… they had sprouted. Multiple times over. There were dead, withered, ancient things in her pockets, and one bulb had sprouted multiple green shoots, clearly still going strong after several cycles. There were many bulbs, fusing together, the stench of it rose to her nostrils and made her eyes water. She threw her coat aside and turned to the man, aware that she probably looked tired, insane, and distraught.
“What year is it?”
“Why, it’s the millennium anniversary, I believe. Strange,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. “I haven’t thought of anything worth celebrating in a long time. But that’s war. This endless fighting has ruined us all.”
“Thank you again. Take this. The thread is gold.”
“You’re going?”
She left behind the ornate coat of the Enlightened One with relief and ran.
You promised, she thought, eyes on the massive walls of the monastery in the distance. I’m keeping my promise, so please keep yours.
Everyone was distraught after the battle.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Marianne had sniffled, sinking back into her covers with a weak moan. “I can’t believe it. She’s survived so much, why could this kill her. Why didn’t the Goddess protect her?” She had lost her voice from sobbing, and Leonie and Hilda exchanged worried looks when she skipped meals. They were all taking it badly, but Marianne had taken it badly. She broke into sobs again. “It must have been me—"
“She’d destroy you for blaming yourself, no matter how irrationally. She wouldn’t want us to be here, either, wasting away,” Leonie said, stroking Marianne’s loose hair back from her forehead. “She’d want us to keep… to keep trying.”
Claude watched from the doorway, eyes on what remained of his Golden Deer. Raphael and Ignatz were long gone, back to their families, Lorenz had taken his leave too. Their goodbyes were heavy, grieved, and the weight of the pain dulled the edges between them. Claude had even clasped Lorenz’s hand without mockery, pulling him into a one-armed hug, ignoring his rival’s snotty tears. Claude could barely manage tears now, but he knew if he could that they wouldn’t be so different from Lorenz’s barrage of sobs.
Lysithea had disappeared without a word, however, not to anyone but Claude. She had stopped by Claude’s room in the inn before her party came to retrieve her. We both failed to protect her, she had said, tightly, clearly struggling. I harbor no ill will towards you. But we should take care to become great, the way she wanted, and not languish pathetically and shame her memory.
Claude hadn’t said anything. She left quietly afterwards. Little Lysithea was twice the Professor’s student than he was, sometimes. Strong and determined, even when she clearly did not want to be, he knew who she took her inspiration from.
“She’d want us to get stronger, not weaker,” Leonie whispered now, still stroking Marianne's hair. “Together.”
“We all have our missions,” Claude said, “and our promises to keep. I’m going to get Marianne some food. Make sure she eats it.”
“Of course,” Hilda said, arms still tight around Marianne’s shoulders. “You should let yourself feel something, Claude. It’s not… it’s not right, to hold it all back this way.”
Claude shrugged and left.
Leonie and Hilda left the next morning and Marianne’s escorts arrived the next day. Claude was left alone, staring up at the monastery in the distance.
I’d know, he had thought before. I’d know she was dead. He’d imagined, like a fool that believed in destiny and magic and legend, that he’d know somehow if Byleth was gone. That the world would be fundamentally different. But it wasn’t. The wind still blew, the sun still rose, his friends still left.
He watched the monastery for a long time that night before making a move.
Eventually, he left and planned to never come back. But even his own best-laid plans fell through, sometimes.
He never gave up hope. Foolish as it was, he couldn’t. He told himself to; he knew he should, but his heart didn’t listen.
I’d know, he grieved, silently. I'd know.
But time marched on, and he found himself trusting, blindly, like he knew not to trust anything, in his friends. He arrived at the monastery and waited, eyes on the setting sun.
No reason to trust them, to trust their memories. You should have reminded them, he thought. How many times did you get a chance to? You were too scared, too afraid that they— that they were right. That they’d call you a fool.
He shouldn’t show up here, like a blind, stupid, fool.
But he did. And so did she, her hair shining in the light, her eyes bright, her gaze astounded--
"Teach," he whispered, dangerously close to losing his cool. "It's about time."
Lysithea still stomped her foot when she was angry, Leonie still tilted her head back to grin, Claude still smiled with cold eyes, and Ignatz—
“I need a drink,” Byleth muttered, putting her head on the table, exhausted. Honestly, leave it to Claude to celebrate the confirmation that his favorite mentor and dear friend was not in fact dead with a battle that raged for most of the night. Leave it to her little Deer to march in halfway through and offer no actual help at all. Hilda had screeched and crowed in joy, Lorenz had regaled her with tales of his exploits as a glorious chevalier, and they had left, as always, Byleth to the front lines.
Apparently, one death null and void, they thought her indestructible. They’d be right.
The sun rose outside, she could see it in the broken windows of the monastery, and it illuminated dust motes and who knew what else in the air. Ignatz wordlessly passed her something, she took it, recognizing a large flask when she felt one, and looked up to take a sip.
“Ignatz, no,” she gasped in horror, pushing it away. He had passed her a flask of heavy ale. The smell of it nearly melted her brain. “Oh, Ignatz, no.”
Ignatz blushed. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s good for field surgeries, it—uh, numbs the fear. And the pain.”
She could hardly manage another word from him. “Please, can’t I have a cup of tea?”
Her Golden Deer exchanged glances with each other, and she noticed even Claude smiling wistfully as Hilda sighed. Marianne spoke in a gentle tone: “Of course, Professor. I’ll make you a pot of tea right now.”
“We’re all grown now, Professor,” Hilda said. “Maybe you should get used to the fact that we--”
“If you’re still calling me 'Professor,' then you’d better be on your best behavior, got it?”
Hilda rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure, Byleth.”
Silence reigned. Everyone was either staring at Hilda or at Byleth staring at Hilda. Byleth narrowed her eyes, leaning back and waiting. Hilda didn’t say a word, didn’t twitch. Until—
“All right, fine. That felt weird. I feel like I should be curtsying around you when you’re in that getup. It’s so dramatic.”
“Drama suits her.” Claude smiled. “She did leave us to grieve her for five years before reappearing like a vision as the sun set, opening up with a moving line about how I’d become a man.”
“I didn’t say anything like that.”
“Yeah, but I wish you had, I was really looking forward to impressing you.” Claude nearly pouted.
“Is that why you’ve been doing barrel rolls and flips on that ridiculous wyvern? Indoors?” Byleth took the cup Marianne set down before her and put her face over the rising steam. “Catch me up, then, my not-so-little deer. One by one. Raphael, how’s your baby sister? Do you ever take a break from training? Look at you,” she snorted.
“Never!” Raphael threw his head back, laughing. “I have five years of stories about my little sister to tell you, Professor. I hope you’re ready. She's a proper business woman now!”
Byleth crossed her legs and settled in, the smell of dust and rubble warring with the scent of the tea blend Marianne had brewed, and she was happy to be among them again.
Byleth always knew Claude had the makings of a master politician, but it was never more apparent than it was now. Gone were the comically overt ploys, and here in their place were subtle, artful, elegant almost-statements, implications, and symbols. Within a moment he had the Knights of Seiros wrapped around his finger and their attention hooked. Within a minute he had crafted a revolution on terms he did not believe in, but which he knew would seize the attention of the world. Within another, Hilda had begun to work them over, gloomily lamenting the fall of the heart of the Church of Seiros as a symbol to her believers.
Byleth, deciding it was about time she did her part in their schemes, gave a shuddering sigh and watched as Catherine and Seteth swiveled to stare at her, looks of horror on their faces. She gave a little gasp, trying to deliver the whole act as cleanly as possible. “I can’t describe to you,” she said, quietly, “the pain I feel standing here, when only yesterday this monastery was in its golden glory. I wonder that Rhea cannot feel my grief too.” Hilda spared her a single glance, a little shock on her face, before launching into a tirade against those who would let the monastery crumble under their watch.
The Knights were planning the repairs within an hour, already contacting the old faculty, requesting they return and lend their strength to the revolution.
“You know what this means, Professor?” Claude asked.
She had an idea, but she asked anyway. “What?”
“It means you’re one of us now.”
Hilda clapped Byleth on the back, sending her nearly to the ground. Still unnaturally strong, good to know. “A regular schemer, a lying, shifty little thing. Oh, Professor. How far you’ve come.”
Byleth groaned. “Get that smug look off of your face,” she grumbled, looking away from Claude’s grin.
“I can’t help it. I’m happy.”
It was weird, to say the least. The monastery was almost the same as she’d left it, merely crumbling and destroyed in places. Her room was the same, and she still felt that sharp spike of grief when she looked to the mirror, seeing that evidence that Sothis was not by her side. There was a layer of dust everywhere, and there--- yes, her old notes.
Or not, she thought, combing through the little books. Her notes were gone. These were all accounting books, devoid of actual use. Whoever had raided her room knew what to look for, and how. She observed the dust on the desk and noted that it was undisturbed. Like the mirror, the dresser, and the bed covers, the desk was layered with dust liberally.
No soldier would have a use for her tiny agenda, her little booklets of notes on the students, her stoic diary. The books were also, she could assume, stolen years ago.
It was too obvious to have been Claude, though he was the most likely one to go for her notebooks. He would have had to do it before the battle, to leave no clue in the dust at all. Byleth scanned the room for some insight.
Nothing, no clues. Her lost items left no sign of their disappearance. She turned back to the desk, getting down on her knees to look underneath. Nothing. She leaned forward, inspecting the prints. All of them were her own, and recent. So, the theft had occurred either five years ago or sometime during those years she was gone. The monastery had been infested with bandits, yes, but what use did they have for her notes?
It might be a more conceptual puzzle. Abruptly, she shook her head. No, there was no one toying with her. The sun was still high in the sky, so she left the dust and the unmoved, still made bed-covers, and ran out into the sun. She'd ask around today, perhaps even check the library to see if the imperial soldiers or the bandits had taken their strange, useless loot up there.
“Professor, this is such a nostalgic feeling! I’m happy to see you again in these halls.”
“Lorenz, hello.” She smiled at the young man before her. He’d changed so much, and yet he was much the same. “Still hunting a fair wife?”
He blushed. “Professor, please. Remind me not of my youth. I want to apologize to you, for putting you in so many uncomfortable positions.”
“It was my pleasure to see you grow and change, Lorenz. How about Claude, do you still plan to overthrow him?”
“I may yet,” Lorenz sniffed. “He’s a fool, but he’s improved remarkably since our days at the academy.”
“Keep an eye on him for me,” she said, and Lorenz beamed, puffing up proudly at the implication. “It’s important to watch out for your friends and take care of them.”
“He’s not my friend!”
“Sure, and those aren’t treats for a wyvern behind your back.”
Lorenz scoffed. “They’re not… these are for me!”
“Liars aren’t very noble, Lorenz.”
“Fine,” he muttered. “I like the little beasts. But their master I do not.”
She left him there, grumbling, and carried on exploring the ruined monastery. It wasn't safe, not by any means. She couldn't even get into the greenhouse yet, but she could see the flowers inside blooming. Making a note to request the Knights tackle the greenhouse soon, she went to find someone else to talk to. She decided to drop by the classroom and see how much it had changed.
A note caught her eye on her way towards the Academy annex. Curious, she picked it up, read it, and laughed.
She walked into the classroom to see the desks in disarray, and that was a surprise, but she was more surprised that Hilda was pushing them about all on her own.
“What a surprise, Hilda.” Hilda jumped, and looked over her shoulder at Byleth reproachfully. "Manual labor."
“Urgh, you’re still so creepy. No one else can do it, or has time, so I'm doing it.”
“You missed it.”
Hilda smiled down at the enormous oak desk she had singlehandedly shoved into place with her hip. “Yeah, actually. I did.”
“I’ve been looking over your notes." She lifted the note she had found to show Hilda.
“Oh no,” Hilda groaned. “Here we go!”
Byleth came around the rubble and sat across from Hilda, the little paper she had found brandished like a flag. “I’m so proud of you, Hilda.”
Hilda blushed and snatched the paper back. “It’s nothing.”
“No, that’s a lesson plan. For Marianne specifically.” Hilda pocketed the paper, glaring balefully.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it, Professor. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Byleth smiled, remembering the girl who had tried to trick Marianne into doing all the work in the library for her, and had come back to a mess and taken over, teaching Marianne all about the library’s organization system. “She’s struggling with her lance drills?”
“She’s really good, is the problem,” Hilda confessed. “It’s like this little secret she keeps. She hides behind her spells and her sword, because it has a wide arc and she’s nervous, but when she gets that look in her eye—”
Byleth knew, had been working with Marianne on these skills before the attack, had been shocked too, to realize that behind the modest, shy girl’s exterior was a monster with an eye for weak points.
“You’d do well to trick her into using the lance,” she said. “She’s a little nervous of the smaller blade, the wooden hilt, but if you find a way to show her its advantages, she’ll come around.”
“You really are something else, aren’t you? You’re trying to teach me to teach.”
“Clever; I know you have a knack for it.”
Hilda stomped back to the desks, but she took out the little paper again and gave it a soft look. “I do, don’t I?”
Byleth stood to leave, but Hilda stopped her with a smirk. “Ignatz was looking for you, Professor. He looked excited; I’d find him if I were you.”
Byleth found Ignatz near the cathedral, his face indeed looked overjoyed. “Professor!” he called out, waving. She made her way towards him, her eyes a little stuck on the makeshift targets set up away from the main paths.
“Ignatz, what are you up to?”
“Remember when you told me once that you weren’t good at archery? That you let the skill fall to the side in a tactical retreat?”
Byleth stared at him, confident and far, far too happy. “Yes.”
“The time for tactical retreats is over, Professor.” He handed her a training bow, outfitted to suit her skill level with a guard so she did not hurt her cheek on the bowstring. A child’s bow. She felt the blood rush to her face, the pulse in her neck pounding.
“Ignatz—”
“Professor, it’s ok! You’ve helped me so much, you’ve done so much for me. For us. Let me help you.”
She looked into his big, shining eyes and took the bow. “Very well, Ignatz. I… would be honored to learn from you…. Teacher.”
He blushed and fidgeted. “Oh, I don’t know if I’m your teacher. I just want to help.”
“Then help,” she said, getting into position. “But this does make you my teacher.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” he muttered.
“Neither do I.”
She did very badly that first session, but Ignatz consoled her like a master of the art. She almost found herself looking forward to their next try.
Fine, she confessed to a nonexistent voice in her head. Not almost. She looked forward to it a lot.
She realized that night, still sore and definitely glad that Ignatz had thought to attach a guard, that she had forgotten to ask about the events after the battle. Worse, she hadn’t remembered to air out her bedclothes. She took them all outside and hung them up on the railings of the stairs, shaking them and beating them with the flat of her axe, hoping no one was around.
A glimmer of gold caught her eye. No, not again. She turned, bitterly, and looked at Claude. “Claude,” she greeted. “Good evening.”
“Bit later than evening, isn’t it?” He came to stand beside her. “And look at that, you’ve gotten up to quite the strange activity. In a familiar getup.” She was in her nightgown, dusty, and her boots, still fine despite being a little damp.
“Whatever,” she muttered, inspecting the covers and noting that they were doing much better now. “I just don’t want to suffocate in my sleep.”
“I see.”
She thought, briefly, about asking him her questions, but there was something tired and cold under his smile. She resisted the urge, turning back to the covers. “Well, that’s all done. I’ll go now.”
“Yes, please rest. You’ve had a long, trying day.”
“No thanks to you,” she muttered.
“As if you’d have consented to sleep in a monastery overrun with bandits, Professor. Let’s be honest.” She begrudgingly agreed with that. “And you definitely had fun running around again." He smiled, a little more honestly than he had all day.
“I did.”
“I’m glad. I really am, so glad. Please, sleep.” He left, and she watched him turn the corner.
She’d never have told him, but he had grown into quite the impressive young man. Taller than her, strong, and with a weight to him that made people look and listen. Even with a smirk on his face, laughing atop a flipping wyvern, he made people watch and wait for his next words.
Blossomed, indeed. She snorted. Claude had more exploded in a rush of fireworks and gunpowder than blossomed. She took her bedclothes back inside and resolved to ask tomorrow.
She slept, for the second time in five years, with the haughty voice of someone dear in her ears.
You’re hopeless; all this time and you haven’t changed at all. But, still, I have missed you. Dearly.
Byleth dreamed of an old friend.
The next morning saw her making her way to the dining halls where Leonie and Raphael were lugging rubble and stone with the Knights. She’d start here, she decided.
“Hello, noble heroes.”
“Professor! Here to help?”
“Oh…” she sighed. “Sure, let’s tackle this corner together, then.”
A mountain of rubble later, she gladly took the giant deerskin of water from Leonie, and tried not to breathe too heavily. Leonie and Raphael looked mostly unphased. “What kind of monsters have you two become?” she demanded, unable to stand up from her chosen fallen statue.
“Well,” Leonie shrugged, “we had a lot of time to train, you know? Didn’t realize how far we had come until just now though, huh, Raphael?”
“It’s a great feeling! I barely broke a sweat! But I did work up an appetite. Do you think the kitchens still work?”
Byleth sighed, leaning forward and stretching her neck. “Bandits need to eat, and I have way too many tomatoes in this bag. Let’s make soup to start with. Low level threat, right?”
Raphael cheered and they set about clearing dust and spiderwebs and filth from the kitchens, while Byleth took her tomatoes (that sweet and grateful guard, happy to report back to duty, had unloaded what felt like a barrel onto her, proudly saying he had nothing to report but joy for being back) and washed them and diced them. She tossed them into the pot with some onions, some thyme she’d found, and water.
Raphael looked so happy, and Leonie so excited, they had no idea that she’d be asking them to sift and crush and grind the boiled tomatoes and drain the juice from them. She smiled, checking on the simmering tomatoes, and told them to wash their hands.
There was no sign of Lysithea anywhere in the first few days, but then Byleth knew she’d be in the library, probably avoiding everyone on purpose. She gave her space at first, hoping to respect her wishes until she was ready to confront her previously-dead Professor. But the second day came and went and Byleth gave up and went to find her.
“Lysithea?”
“Professor!” the girl exclaimed, dropping the book she had been rifling through. She shoved it into the stacks again and turned, a guilty expression on her face. “I have not been avoiding you,” she said firmly. “I am far too… mature and sensible to do such a thing.”
Marianne’s voice piped up a table away, still shy but determined. “She’s avoiding you! And Claude.” Marianne’s voice turned thoughtful. “I wonder why. Oh, well, I have a lesson with Hilda now. So, you two can… talk.” She bowed out gracefully, embarrassed, and Lysithea and Byleth were left alone.
“Lysithea, is there something you want to tell me?”
Lysithea was silent for a long moment, before bursting into tears. “I’m so sorry.”
Byleth stepped forward, her hands up to do something as her little student sobbed. “Lysithea, goodness, what has happened?”
“I feel so terrible; I feel like a monster. I just… I keep remembering how you— you took that arrow for me, and you protected me so much, and you worried about me, and I just gave up on you!”
“You didn’t give up on me, no. Lysithea. Look at me.” Lysithea did, tears leaking from her eyes and some snot beginning to gather near her lip. Byleth wiped it all away with a thumb, feeling nothing but affection. “Hey, these tears don’t suit you, come on. Where’s that glare—There it is,” she laughed.
Lysithea chuckled wetly, wiping her eyes and mouth, and threw her arms around Byleth’s shoulders, floating a little to reach. “I’m so happy you’re back, but I wish I had believed in you the way Claude did.”
“Claude?”
“Yeah, that idiot never gave up for a second. None of us could touch him for sheer faith. For a guy who has no care for the Gods or churches, he was so certain you were alive. Without a shred of proof.”
Byleth smiled sadly. “He had some proof. He had my father’s journal, and the powers the Goddess bestowed on me.”
“Neither of you are very faithful people.”
“No, but just because things happen, doesn’t mean they happen for the reasons others believe they do. Claude is shrewd, and you are too, it doesn’t make you less smart for grieving me.”
“I did. A lot.”
“And here I was, thinking you were dead these past five years,” and barely a wobble to her voice, incinerating a bandit without missing a motion. Byleth felt that familiar pride well up inside her.
“I hope you don’t deny me your lovely presence, just because you grieved for nothing.”
“Not for nothing. You kept me going. It’s how I got this strong.” She gestured at her floating body. “I didn’t give up, Professor.”
Byleth pulled her in for another hug, grateful that the tears had ended. “I see that,” she said. “Well, I’m here to spend time with you. What would you like to do?”
“I want help with this,” Lysithea said, pointing to a pile of books at the table Marianne had vacated. “You drove off my assistant, so you might as well take her place.”
Byleth sighed, and sat, beginning to sort through the piles as Lysithea explained what went where and why.
“Professor, that’s a cookbook. It doesn’t belong in the special collections.”
“But it’s so old!”
Lysithea groaned, taking it from her and shelving it properly. “Honestly, you’re still hopeless. Saying the most outrageous things with a serious face. I guess there’s comfort in some things never changing, though.”
They continued their work in silence, occasionally discussing a title or subject, before Byleth remembered she had questions to ask. She had forgotten to ask Raphael and Leonie too, curse them for distracting her with food and laughter.
“Lysithea, do you remember what happened immediately after the battle?”
“I do,” she said, suddenly grim.
“Do you mind telling me?”
“Why?”
“I… I have found that some items are missing from my room, I want to know who took them.”
“Well, the troops took the monastery and then abandoned it, and the bandits came in. It was probably looters. Valuables?”
“No. Notebooks.”
Lysithea turned a glare on Byleth, the likes of which she had never seen outside of battle.
“Notebooks?” Lysithea asked sweetly. “You lost… notebooks?”
Byleth yanked a book closer and held it up, hoping to appease the little demon. “Oh, what is this? A survey of plants in the Southern Reaches?”
Lysithea snatched it away and put it in her pile of books to look over. “You’ll have to talk to Claude,” she said, bitterly.
“Claude?”
“Yes.”
“You know something?”
“He… he always, always believed in you, was the last to leave as far as I know. I always wondered…”
“What?”
“No. Talk to Claude.” Lysithea flipped through her book ferociously. “Not my business now.”
Byleth thought back to her original assumption. Given Claude’s request to have her father’s diary, five years prior, he was definitely interested in the records of others. His endless sleuthing and scheming made him the perfect culprit. Still, why bother hiding that he’d done it?
Five years ago, she had been dead. Something cold settled on her neck and curled around her throat, restricting her breathing.
“She did leave us to grieve for five years,” he had said, with a smile on his face. Her gaze went to the tower the wyvern often settled and rested upon. Claude.
“I thought you’d find me here,” he said, looking at her without that smile anywhere to be seen. “Sorry about all this.” He gestured to the notebooks, ravaged and bent and dog-eared, that he held in his lap. “I took them before I realized what I was doing. Something told me you’d want them back, but I just couldn’t let go of them.”
“The monastery was taken,” she said, hushed. “You came back?”
“Everyone left, they weren’t there to control my impulses. So, I came back, searching for anything, any clue you might have left behind.”
“And you found something?”
Claude looked up at her, a wry smile on his face and a deep sadness in his eyes. “Do you know what it felt like? Staring up at this place, alone? If it were you, you would have come back too. It was almost too easy. I took the armor from a corpse and put it on, snuck in with the looters, right under their noses.”
She settled in beside him, leaning back against the wall and looking up at the same stars he had been watching. “You still like to stargaze?”
“I love it,” he said. “You can be angry at me, you know. You were so angry at me for ghost-hunting, back in the day. You can yell at me now.”
“I was angry at you for putting yourself and your friends in danger,” she whispered. “And at myself for not being well enough to help protect you.”
Claude was still watching her, that smile still in place, that sadness still in his eyes. “I know.”
She took a book from his lap, surprised to see one page in particular marked with a colorful piece of paper. She opened it to that page and saw her first activity plan. She nearly choked.
“The pranks.”
“I’ve got the whole book memorized; you know.” He tilted his head back, staring right at the moon. “Claude would make an excellent leader for his nation, today he’s proven it.” He turned his head to look at her again. “You wrote that.”
“I did.”
“I nearly gave up. Stopped trying. It’s so hard. The nobles are in chaos, the Empire is so unified, and Dimitri is steps away from a full decline. He might even be there already. It felt, with you gone, like that was it. End of the story.”
The page was weathered in a way it wouldn’t have been if it had been shut for five years. Someone had touched it over and over, ran their fingers over the pages, flipped through them, held it open in all sorts of weather, reading.
“But that book… all your notes, they just kept me sane. Especially the notes on Lorenz, really helped me out.”
She glared at him. “Don’t manipulate your friends.”
“He’s only half my friend, the other half of him is my greatest political threat outside the Empire. Don’t bother trying to change my mind.”
She huffed a laugh, looking back down at the notes, a rush of nostalgia welling through her. She shouldn’t be nostalgic; it was only yesterday for her. Only yesterday, she had seen them all.
“Do you remember the terms of this activity?”
“I do, very well.”
“You saved your request, for successfully pranking me. Remember? Do you want to cash it in?”
“I do, really badly,” he confessed. “But now is not the time. Besides, you’ve already given me everything I could have asked for.”
“What’s that?”
“You came back, and the Golden Deer are back together. I’ve missed them.”
“That wasn’t me, that was… whatever lies dormant inside me,” she confessed. “If it were up to me you wouldn’t have had to wait five years.”
“I know, but you came… just on time. It makes a guy believe in fate and destiny. I meant it, what I said. I feel like you’re the greatest friend I’ll ever have, like our bond runs much deeper. When I was your student, I was saving my request up, hoping one day to use it and make you join me in the Alliance.”
“And now?”
“And now something tells me you’d have come anyway, request or not.”
She smiled, shutting the little notebook on a page about Marianne’s acting skills. “Yes. I would have. It would be an honor to serve alongside you,” she said.
“Once upon a time, you said you didn’t care about the Alliance. The stupid alliance.”
She laughed. “But I cared about you and the rest of the Deer, didn’t I say that?”
“You did,” he said, taking the book back from her.
“You think you can just keep that?”
“I’m holding onto it, just a bit longer,” he murmured, tucking it into his shirt. “I still need it.”
They sat in silence, looking up at the endless sky above, comfortable to be quiet.
“What is your request, Claude?” she asked again.
“I still have so many plans and secrets, Professor. There’s so much you have to know before I can make anything like a request from you. Besides, haven’t you got a request for Marianne on the books too?”
Byleth smiled and shook her head. “No, her request was a few days before the battle. She wanted me to keep her off the cleaning roster for a month.” She paused. “Foolish girl. I must make amends. She’ll be off the restoration roster now.”
“She’ll be very happy to hear that.”
Byleth knew she would, the girl had been so diligent and hard-working recently, helping anyone who needed it. She deserved a break and for her request to be honored. Byleth knew Claude wouldn’t let her forget, he was far too good a leader. Oh, yes.
“You’re a leader now, Claude.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, looking suddenly sullen.
“No pranks,” she said firmly.
“Never!” he lied. “Listen. Wait, ok? Geez, you’d think sleeping for five years would make you more receptive to the concept of patience.”
“If anything, it’s made me allergic to patience,” Byleth said proudly.
“I noticed.”
“Very well,” she said, leaning back again and resting her head against the cold stone wall. The stars sucked her back into their thrall. “I shall wait.”
She could almost feel his smug smile on her face, so she took his chin in hand and directed it to the sky, now turning a purple color. “Focus,” she said.
He probably didn’t.
The sun rose slowly, and they sat in silence. Byleth swallowed a lump in her throat, remembering mornings like this one, so long ago. She watched the sun peek slightly above the trees, sending birds into their morning flights, and spared a glance for Claude.
He had fallen asleep, head tilted back and mouth open. She shut it with a finger and rose, resolving to come back with something to eat and maybe a few of the Deer to help carry it all. She could hear the sounds of Raphael taking over the kitchen, the barks of Leonie’s orders. She took the steps down the tower three at a time, running to the halls, where, yes.
“He’ll need breakfast,” Lysithea said primly, holding out a plate of eggs and bread. “He hates jam, so no jam, but here’s a banana.”
Byleth sidestepped the volley of orders and went to make a pot of tea, setting up a tea tray and piling it with teacups. “Dear Lysithea, go wake up everyone else up. You too Raphael, Leonie. The view of the sunrise should not be missed. The eastern towers, his usual spot. I’ll bring the tea.”
Claude did not sleep through the sunrise, but he fell back asleep promptly and suddenly when Byleth stood and looked down at her gathered Deer to tell them it was time, with the exception of Marianne, to get back to work. He did not stir, frowning resolutely in his “slumber.” Hilda followed his lead, falling back with a sigh into Marianne’s lap, who for some reason rolled over and shut her eyes and buried her face into Lysithea’s shoulder, who got a dangerous glint in her eye and began to “snore” furiously, and soon the Deer were faking sleep shamelessly. She was almost proud of their unity and teamwork. Even Lorenz committed to the act.
She leaned over the ramparts and looked at all the Knights getting to work down below, Seteth and Catherine leading the charge against the rubble and filth. She looked back to the Deer and sighed.
“Sleep well,” she said. There were a few smiles, one snort from Lorenz. Claude’s face was perfectly still, but she recognized the taut bite to his jaw, holding in a smile. “But prepare for hell when you wake, little Deer.”