Chapter Text
The purposeful footsteps echoed as they drew closer in approach to the chamber. The doors were flung open, revealing the frazzle form of Seteth, which was not an unusual sight. Whether fretting over where Flayn may be, who she may be with, or chasing down a Byleth who skipped her lessons, a common occurrence as of late, Seteth appeared without much peace in his life, nor allowing himself a moment of rest. But at this moment, he seemed to be a step above the usual worries of a stressed-out guardian.
No, rarely does Seteth allow his appearance to match his inner, more worried-prone self. His mouth wasn’t just in a disappointed downturn, usually the only sign of his misgivings. His brows were pinched, and the way his eyes darted across the room, as if expecting to find whoever he has been looking for, Rhea immediately knew what the cause was.
Jeralt.
Though the man was no longer his esteemed position of being Captain of the knights, every now and again, the archbishop would assign a mission for the retired veteran to handle. She could very well keep the man chained to the monastery, considering how valuable the skilled swordsman was, but it was cruel to prevent a warrior from his weapon and Jeralt has not dulled once, despite relinquishing his previous title for a lofty position as a professor for the academy. These missions did not risk his life, especially at his level of skill and efficiency; had he been a mercenary, he would surely made more than a pretty penny on his quick and effective work.
Yes, the legendary Blade Breaker could handle the occasional mission she would send him on.
Seteth informed her of what she already guessed to be— now the question she wondered: did Jeralt knowingly taken Byleth along or did Byleth stow away yet again.
Jeralt heaved a sigh.
The lip twitch would not register to an untrained eye. But Jeralt, while not much to brag, knew enough to know this: Byleth did not regret her decision at all. He squinted at her armor— a breastplate he gotten custom made for her birthday, shiny and clearly new, and… then some casual shorts with leggings. She had her cape, hair wild without her usual pink headband, and at least she had the sense to wear practical boots.
His daughter, she seen battle before. She gone on appointed and heavily guarded odd jobs of sweeping up some bandits, usually the struggling remnants of a mission where the knights took out a bandit stronghold. Certainly, he made sure she wasn’t like some of the nobility rabble that walked through the halls of Garreg Mach Monastery. Her blade hand was impressive, steady and carried force, to the point she was banned from competing in friendly spars with the students for a few years now. Her wits on the battlefield, from what he heard and what he saw was something to trigger a swell of fatherly pride.
Though the Archbishop, as of late, has been allowing her leniency and stretch her legs outside of the monastery (or, as Byleth quietly murmured to her father, her prison), Byleth was still stubborn and wanted more freedom. It wasn’t enough. The missions where she was babysat by the likes of some healers and archers as well as brawlers following up whenever she so much brought her sword down, if she didn’t manage to finish the foe with one swing… she was tired.
She didn’t confess to that, but anybody with eyes could see how much the coddling has been getting to her.
It started around when Flayn was brought to the monastery.
As if a mirror to her own status there, Byleth realized— for every step she took, the echoes of a guard. Tutors drowned her in materials of etiquette, politics and history, her schedule shifting away from her time spent on the training grounds. She was being groomed, but she wasn’t sure for what.
Often, Sothis and her would debate.
Such a strange little woman, that Sothis. She didn’t appear as often, flitting in and out of her dreams after a particular memory that wasn’t her own and sometimes, Byleth swore to this, she saw the progenitor god out the corner of her eye. The petite woman never spoke to her long, and often months would stretch in between their conversations.
Well, until recently.
Sothis did not like to be woken from her slumber, but Byleth noted the hours she was not snoozing on the throne within her mind. Sothis was becoming a more common fixture in her mind. Some in the monastery must think of herself as being mad, with how often she would zone out and share a quick chat with the goddess. Not quite matronly, not like how Rhea treated her, but certainly, the ancient goddess did not come off as a child.
Where Byleth lacked in humor and apt reactions, Sothis would sometimes explain in reaction and prompt her to reconsider an interaction that would otherwise go over her head. Even decode a storm of emotions that passed through, dealing a hand of comfort or a stern hand of ‘focus! Don’t dilly-dally over frivolous things.’
Even now! Sothis whispering in her ear, commenting on what Jeralt just mentioned, and Byleth had to flicker her eyes towards her father, to pretend that she was listening.
Something about…. newcomers to the academy. Ah, yes, the new class.
Apparently, this year was supposed to be an exciting one, she remembered Flayn mentioning; not just one but three heirs, each hailing from the Kingdom, the Empire and the Dukedom of the alliance. Flayn didn’t know much, but the academy has been abuzz for the arrival of such powerhouses in the nobility scene.
Though Byleth never met any of the heirs, she knew of Edelgard von Hresvelg and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd— her lessons in politics ensured that of her. Claude Von Riegan was an exciting development, as Sothis gave commentary; apparently before his mysterious arrival and advocation from Judith of House Daphnel, Riegan Household was mourned (or celebrated) to lack an heir and soon to lose their power in the alliance once Duke Riegan stepped down. The trio were quite the characters, from the chatter popping in the monastery. Byleth normally did not care for nobility talk… but Sothis’s unusual chattering and Byleth, through bribing of a friendly guard, discovered Jeralt was meeting with the knight escorts and helping the students complete their journey to the monastery.
As to why— well…
“Bandits,” Jeralt answered, with a casual shrug as he approached the window. This village was so quiet and quaint in the late night. Looking back to Byleth, who sat on her bed with her fingers neatly folded in her lap and piercing look, so carefully blank, Jeralt could almost laugh. She tried so hard to conceal anything, which meant she was dying to know more than this one-word answer. “Carefulness, to the Archbishop, is a virtue. While these roads are normally safe, the uptick in bandit activity and the fact… some of these students might be my future students, Rhea thought it would be a good idea for myself to give a good impression.”
Byleth gave a small nod, before she pursed her lips, her eyes shutting for a moment.
[“Hm. I feel terrible for whoever will be stuck with such a crass instructor. An even worse option would be yourself. Could you imagine? A child leading a child— how silly.”]
Footsteps scraped against the wooden floor, before the sound of a chair dragging out accompanied it. When Byleth opened her eyes, her father was beside her bed, sitting and considering her, like he always did when he was trying to figure out how to phrase whatever was on his mind. Like this, Alois use to say, was how she and Jeralt were clearly related. Despite her fair-colored skin, hair like the shade of forget-me-nots and eyes to match, her mannerisms were so much like her gruff father. Stoic, considering and intimidating. They shared their inability to give genuine smiles and awkward habit of staring when words refused to surface.
Quite the pair they were, Sothis would state. A thought that would almost, almost bring a smile to her face.
Jeralt tapped her knee and she jerked her gaze back to him. He chuckled, a deep and comforting sound, and leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms. “So… kiddo, will this year be the year?”
Byleth straightened. “Did Lady Rhea say—”
“Well, you are already of age… and though this stunt will not win you any favor with the Archbishop or your baby sitter, I filled out the paper work to allow you to join one of the houses this year,” Jeralt couldn’t wipe the smirk off his lips, watching his daughter perk up and eyes danced with excitement that fought against the usual stare. There her lips go, twitching slightly, as if it didn’t quite know how to grin but badly wanted to. “I have my eyes set on teaching Golden Deer House again. Those kids always been my speed, you know?”
“Because they have more commoners?”
Jeralt shrugged, “Yes, usually that. Though this year, we’re having an influx of some crest wielders. Still, something about them that brings comfort to this old knight’s heart.” Byleth nodded, a ghost of a smile appearing then disappearing as her gaze dropped to her hands. Jeralt continued, his voice dropped, almost conspiratorially, “I would prefer if you joined the house I’m overseeing, but, unlike most students, you’re given the opportunity to choose from the get-go.”
Byleth kept her eyes lowered but he knew the gears were turning in her head, so he continued with a teasing lilt to his voice, pushing himself to his feet, “Hell, if you get a chance, maybe try and meet some of the incoming house leaders. Working with a possible friend is much easier than somebody who you wish you could slice the tongue off of.”
Byleth cupped her chin, squinting at her father, “What if all three cause that feeling?”
Jeralt snorted, shaking his head, “then pray to the goddess that next year’s batch is more tolerable?”
His daughter was pleased by this, or at least he assumed. He couldn’t dwell on this, or this nice moment he was sharing with her, as a soldier came rushing through the door with bad news on his lips.
She shouldn’t have worn the tights.
It wasn’t often she became self-conscious, but wearing her own uniform, an altered version of the one Academy students wore, would’ve been better than the shorts and tights combo she gone with. She would’ve blended in more, though this was wishful thinking— [“You have an air about you that sets off from other mortals, child.”] was what Sothis told her, though Byleth did not have the time to parse if this was a compliment or an insult.
Neither her nor her father could predict meeting the house heads like so.
As each interrupted themselves, trying to explain why they were here, ahead of schedule and the near-death experience they were currently running from, Byleth took this chance to observe each one of the heads.
Dimitri— while his hair made her squint, badly wanting to mess with it and style it in a more pleasing manner, he spoke with calm and measured presence of a kind noble.
Edelgard— though her eyes were ever so judging, the white-haired heir’s confidence was something to admire and Byleth found herself listening whenever she spoke.
And Claude— such an enigma, from the moment he appeared, not unlike his status as the heir for Duke Riegan; his lax smile did not match the urgent mood, but it was strangely comforting.
The students’ attention, thankfully, zeroed in on her father first. Though she was not a young child anymore, the urge of slinking behind her father as the anxious wave of meeting so many new people at once hit her… the urge was strong. But she kept to his side, her face devoid of anything beyond letting the students know she was following.
Jeralt couldn’t stay forever. As Jeralt prepared the knights for battle to rebuff these bandits hunting down the students, the trio turned to her, and underneath their piercing gaze, Byleth resisted freezing up and shrinking.
Dimitri broke the silence first, giving her a formal bow and a well-mannered smile. “Sorry, I did not catch your name.”
Byleth opened her mouth, before her etiquette lesson kicked in and she tried for a curtsy and bowing her head, and she put on her most ‘respectful to stuffy nobles’ voice she could, “Byleth Eisner.” Her voice was soft, and maybe they didn’t catch it— Claude looked like he was about to ask her to repeat herself, when her father hollered for her to round up the noble house heads and follow him.
“This way.” She said, raising her voice as she turned heel and headed the direction of which her father’s voice came from. She can feel their stares now. But she won’t let the audience spook her; she was shifting into a mentality of a soldier— by the tone of which her father called for her, he might be requesting her blade. Whether to actually fight bandits or simple guard the royals, she had to be on her feet and her wits sharp.
She could hear Edelgard whisper to the other two, “Did you know if Blade Breaker had a daughter? Eisner…” Dimitri didn’t reply, and Claude made a noise, reacting with, “But they don’t… look related. Maybe he adopted her?”
Hmm. She supposed her existence wasn’t well known. Even within the monastery, the truth of her birth was kept a mystery to most. She did not often call Jeralt as father, and while he referred to her as kid, he did so with majority of his students as well. Besides, she was not the only child who ran around the monastery growing up.
Jeralt was mounting his horse when they found him. And with a grunt, he told her and the other house heads to follow.
“Some managed to slip through. We have to pick them off before they set any more of this place ablaze,” Jeralt said, adjusting his grip on his lance. Byleth nodded, glancing to Claude, who strolled up beside her and considering her just the same. “Kiddo, make sure the royals don’t go killing themselves. You three can fight?”
To answer his question, they picked up weapons to use— a lance for the prince, an axe for the heir-apparent, and a bow for the future duke of the alliance. Byleth had her sword, but flexing her non-dominant hand, she felt magic sparked at her fingertips. Hanneman has been teaching a bit about her magic, hoping it’ll allow him one step closer to figuring out her crest. Archbishop often told the crestologist that it wasn’t time yet, and considering the grilling the professor did with majority of crest holders? Byleth was thankful for the excuse to scurry off.
Byleth turned to the trio, her mind rationalizing what the best set up was; of course, her father would correct if her plan seemed risky, but… “Claude, stick behind me. You don’t have a short-range weapon, and between my fire as well as your bows, we could pick out the enemies from…” she scanned the area that they were approaching— trees! She noted patches of trees broken up by a formed path, and in the distance, a burning outpost. “Dimitri, Edelgard— you’re going to flank both my sides, okay? When I attack, you must follow up. Claude, if you know how to wield that thing, make sure to take any shots if you see the opportunity.” She wondered if Jeralt would jump in to fix up any holes in her strategy, but her father nodded along, yielding his horse to a stop.
“I’ll scout ahead. You know to holler if something happens, kiddo,” Jeralt said before he kicked the sides of his horse, “You three listen to her if you want to live. I won’t be far.”
Cool. Cool, cool, cool.
Claude winced as he watched the dirt get kicked up by Captain Jeralt’s horse. Though, the man wasn’t wrong— the plan sounded like a solid one indeed. As the arrow shaft twirled between his fingers, he regarded their mysterious fourth member. And she was watching him just as much, if not more, than she was watching the other two.
“After you?” he said, his grin quirking the side of his mouth as he easily lined up his arrow. The mysterious woman nodded, and while Dimitri frowned at him, probably having an opinion of how tactless he spoke, they were in battle. It was something to lecture on later.
Edelgard seemed just as interested in watching the blue haired girl now. But like him, she must’ve already formed an opinion— whoever this woman was, she was impressive. She had to be around their age, or she was blessed with baby-faced genes. He wanted to know more, ask more; there was something about her that drawn him to her, and it must be taking an effect on the other two.
The battle, under her watchful eye, went smoothly. Fire and sword, the combo was impressive; when her blade failed to miss, Edelgard was quick to swing her axe and Dimitri jabbed his lance. His own arrows sunk into the bandits, as they let out cries before crumbling in heaps of defeat.
Jeralt wasn’t far, and he dealt with any bandit to prevent the four-party unit from being overwhelmed, like a guardian angel of sorts.
The field was almost empty. Him and Dimitri circled back, realizing one of their downed foes wasn’t downed enough. As the two made quick work of the bandit, just as Claude was going to pay the blond a compliment on his handling of the lance, he felt an odd sensation overcome himself.
Dimitri’s eyes widen, looking past Claude and at where Edelgard and Byleth should be. In the moonlight and the glow of fire, he saw the bandit’s axe fly and sink into the ground several feet away. Byleth was composed and relaxing her stance, looking at her downed enemy, as she lowered her sword. Then she blinked, slightly dazed as she glanced at her hand with a frown before turning to Edelgard, to assess the imperial princess and her well-being.
Claude decided before he thought of Byleth as interesting.
But no, she was more than that.
And the other two thought the same. They beat him to offering up positions to work in their respective kingdoms, while Claude tried to ease the awkwardness emanating from Byleth with a joke about wanting friendship first before trapping her in the deal of using her strength for House Riegan and the alliance.
The flush that bloomed on her cheeks made him grin, and again, he couldn’t help the teasing tone. “So, out of the three of us, who’s offer would you consider?”
And he ignored the other two’s glares as Byleth admitted she would choose him. Jeralt shooed them off, so they could return to their classmates and let them know they were fine. Between the three of them, chatter started.
“I think… I rather like her,” Dimitri started, his voice a touch shy and Claude could make out the blush appearing on his cheeks. Smirking, he chimed in, “yes, she is pretty. Especially lit by the flames she created!”
Edelgard gave him a look of exasperation. “Typical boys,” she muttered under breath, before clearing her throat, contributing to the conversation by adding: “Though… her skills over the blade and art in reason magic is quite a combination…”
“You were practically swooning at the end, no, princess?”
Now it was Edelgard’s turn to blush, and like Dimitri, she looked away, grumbling his own name under her breath. Claude crossed his arms, nodding as he continued to speak, “I wonder if she’s a student. Or is she a knight? I never seen a young knight like her, but she is an exceptional fighter…”
And thus, a tangent started, all three debating what she was— daughter of Jeralt? Knight? Theories upon theories. He couldn’t wait to pull Byleth aside again; he wouldn’t grill her, per say, but he had questions to ask, and seeing how she sided with him, maybe she already felt comfortable enough to let him poke and prod a little bit.
Claude smiled to himself.
He always loved little personal projects and Byleth just became his target.
Byleth, on the other hand, was kicking herself as she helplessly looked for her father. Inside her mind, Sothis cackled as she commented about Byleth’s sudden nervousness when all three turned their attention on her and she could only think wow, they almost have… a sparkling air and quality to them. Almost unreal, and pretty.
[“You’re young, child. You’re allowed to have a crush.”] And that set Byleth off, waving her hands as she tried defending herself but only finding her sentences trail off. Sothis poked more, mentioning the Von Riegan noble in particular and her face lit up, causing for the progenitor god to start up her laughter.
Now I can’t request Golden Deer, Byleth thought. But her mind kept drifting back to the smile that managed to put her both at ease and cause her shoulders to tense up as a fluttering feeling appeared in her belly.
“Father,” she said, as she slid into the one-sided conversation Sir Alois and Jeralt were having. Alois seemed surprised and pleased to see her, while Jeralt looked relieved about being rescued from the conversation (and there was a little surprise too, maybe from her uttering the term Father). She tugged on his tunic, eyes flickering to Alois, before looking up to him with a flat look. Jeralt shoo away the man and his bad jokes before Alois could make her regret coming over.
“When are we beginning the march back?”
Jeralt considered this, tilting his head, “Well… we’re changing routes and taking a longer path to the monastery. Some beasts have been spotted by our scouts, so to put less stress on the students, we’re taking the— you know what, come here, I have a map.”
Byleth obediently followed, mulling over this… she was hoping she’d had time to adjust to the leaders, and her mind wandered back to Claude, now a mixture of dread with excitement bubbled up. He was going to probably corner her at some point; she could sense it, from the way his eyes lingered and a private smile, small yet complex, studying her as if she was a box, he was figuring out how to go about opening her up.
She twirled a lock of her hair, her thoughts drifting. Golden Deer always had eccentric leaders— it what made their classes the funniest to watch and most interesting to see grow. In her spotty memory, Claude was already taking the lead of the oddest Golden Deer leader she met.
As Jeralt pointed out the path on the map, she let her mind wandered. Funnily, she was curious about him as well, more than she’d like to admit.
Ah well, there was tomorrow. The two were bound to find each other, now that they knew each other existed. It was just a matter if this curiosity will be killed by finding the Golden Deer house leader insufferable or Sothis was telling the truth about her attraction. Her fingers danced across the map, and she pulled out one of Fodlan as a whole.
Her finger trailed the script that read Riegan, situated in the Alliance area.
Claude Von Riegan. Mysterious heir of House Riegan. And quite rudely setting up camp in her thoughts.