Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’re Dorothea Arnault, correct?” Hubert approached the piano where she was sitting, chatting away with friends from the theater club. It was during lunchtime, and she was helping the club with prop designs. September 1st had come quickly to Garreg Mach High School and it would be Dorothea’s last first-day before graduating. The four years were beginning to feel like a whirlwind as college and future careers stared at her with greedy eyes.

“Depends who’s asking?” Dorothea turned, looking at the man dressed almost entirely in black. He looked tired, likely lacking sleep. She could place him immediately from gym class, remembering his dreary attire and threatening aura that their classmates had come to fear. “Awh, it’s Edelgard’s lost puppy.”

“That’s very nice.” Hubert frowned. “Now, I have a request.”

“I’m very much a lesbian, thank you.”

“Unrelated.” Hubert pressed at his temples and Dorothea smiled that she had managed to bring out any sort of reaction from the stoic man. She had only completed her goal a couple of times during their shared class, undoubtedly making her way onto his hit list by the end of the year. “We are attempting to revive the volleyball team at this school and in order to do so, we need ten members.”

“And…?” She rested her chin on her hands, enjoying the situation.

“We only have four members.” Hubert growled. “Edelgard said your performance in gym class was promising.”

“Oh, Edelgard said these things about me?” Dorothea continued to tease the request out of Hubert, although it did surprise her that she had caught her eye. Edelgard von Hresvelg: captain of the volleyball team, the swim team, and varsity track. The girl was in her gym class the prior year and it was hard to forget her. She was small, but strong and terribly determined to the point of occasional bad sportsmanship… but she was also beautiful.

“She did,” Hubert sighed, “so if you would be so kind as to fill out the form.”

“Now let’s pull the brakes on this.” Dorothea held her hand up. “I’m a part of the theatre club and we have a show this semester and next. Although I could handle both—” she could tell that Hubert didn’t like the look on her face “—we are always quite short for the spring production. It will be Hamlet and I think you will be just perfect.”

“I am not doing any production.” Hubert crossed his arms.

“And I’m not doing any sportsball.” Dorothea shrugged.

Dorothea laughed to herself as Hubert stood his ground, clearly trying to find a way out. She couldn’t tell why she was at the top of his recruitment list, but it was clearly a do or die situation. Dorothea wasn’t kidding when she said that he was Edelgard’s lost puppy; he seemingly did her bidding without question.

“We need ten people,” he said again.

“And I need a Hamlet,” Dorothea countered. “Look. Edelgard is a sweetheart, but I can’t just leave my club to struggle. Besides, this is the spring show I'm talking about… unless you would prefer the fall musical?”

“Fine. I’ll do the spring production—but sign the paper.”

Dorothea smiled when she knew she had won. She signed the paper with a flourish: Dorothea Arnault. She admittedly did not know anything about volleyball, but it couldn’t hurt. It was strange that Edelgard was forming a co-ed team. She had heard rumors of the varsity boys’ team being cut due to too many injuries, but she wondered if the girls’ had been affected in the same way. If so, the volleyball team made sense. Edelgard lived and breathed the sport, it would be a shame for her not to play.

“Thank you,” Hubert said and was about to leave when another person hopped down from the stage and briskly made her way towards them.

“Were you requesting aid for Edelgard von Hresvelg?” she asked, her usual stage dramatics never quite disappearing off of the stage.

“Yes,” Hubert said, impatient. Dorothea smiled. Oh, this could be so much fun.

“Well, put me down,” she said, flipping her short bob of blonde hair, “Constance von Nuvelle!”

“I think you can write it yourself.” Hubert shuffled his stack of papers, shoving a new form into the girl’s hands. Constance signed her name elegantly and Dorothea laughed.

“Like playing volleyball, Constance?” she asked the enthusiastic girl. It was refreshing to see her animated over something. There were some days where her mental health had gotten so bad that she wouldn’t even go outside to see the sunlight, but then there were the days where she still blossomed like the flower she was meant to be.

“I happen to have never played it outside of gym class, but how difficult could it be?” Her eyes were sparkling.

“How excited will Edelgard be when you have members who have never played competitive volleyball?” Dorothea teased. She could see this going absolutely nowhere, but now it was exciting. “I might have a third, if you really need it.”

“That would be lovely. Please bring them to the meeting.” Hubert clicked his pen. He handed Dorothea an extra sign up sheet. “Good day.”

“Bye bye, Hubie.” Dorothea waved with a wink as the man sighed once more. She turned to Constance. “So, Edelgard, huh? I think she’s quite a beauty, myself.”

“You mustn’t jump to conclusions,” Constance insisted, her cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink that made Dorothea’s own heart flutter. The feeling always came when she entertained the idea of a crush being attracted to the same person as her. “The name is familiar to me. My parents worked for the Hresvelg Corporation.”

Instead of continuing the conversation, she turned away from the piano and took off back towards the stage. Dorothea didn’t try to force the information out of her, instead just humming to herself and texting Bernie to come for a visit.

Constance had lost both of her parents and her brother in a car crash at the end of the last school year. She had been set to graduate, but she seemingly disappeared from Garreg Mach to grieve and stopped handing in any work. She didn’t drop out, but it tanked her grades enough that she couldn’t pass and her name was skipped at the graduation ceremony.

Dorothea played a few keys on the piano to the same tune that she was humming. She had grown up without parents, so she knew a part of Constance’s pain. Dorothea found her phone number and called her over the summer, urging her to take a part in the drama club if she planned to finish high school. Apparently, Constance wasn’t planning on returning until that call. She had moved in with some friends, but it took her out of the school district. Dorothea helped her move into her own place and a friendship grew from there. She was a highlight of Dorothea’s life and she had a hard time believing that they would have never met otherwise.

“Dorothea.” Bernie tapped her shoulder, snapping her away from the piano. “Classes went okay?”

“It was nice to see people,” Dorothea said with a smile, stealing a kiss from her partner. It was nice to be able to do so in front of the drama club, considering that neither of them were out at home. They were both in… complicated situations, but they could steal the moments of happiness elsewhere. “What do you think of volleyball?”

“Volleyball?” Bernie furrowed her brows. She was wearing one of Dorothea’s sweatshirts, which was too big on her, the sleeves running right over her hands.

“I just joined the team and I was wondering if you would also like to join.” She didn't beat around the subject, knowing that Bern would be reluctant. “It could be lots of fun and you would get to know new people!”

“I don’t really know how to play volleyball,” Bernie said, taking the sheet and looking it over. “And getting to know new people sounds terrible.”

“So far, a fifth of the team doesn’t know how to play, we can learn together!” Dorothea smiled. “Just think about it? I think it needs to be by the end of the day, though.”

“Can I think about it until then?”

“Of course. I did want to let you know that a girl that I’m interested in is also joining,” Dorothea said, deciding it would be best to be upfront with Bern. She was always honest about her attraction to others; she never wanted her partner to think she was going behind her back. Dorothea looked towards the stage where Constance was entertaining a couple of new freshman recruits.

“That’s okay, thanks for letting me know.” Bernie smiled, still looking at the sign up sheet, pondering over it as if it were life or death. “I met your girlfriend while you were together.”

“Just wanted to tell you. It can be a bit different when it’s not an established relationship, you know?” Dorothea kissed her cheek, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and looking at the form. “It will be fun. You might get to know new people.”

“I don’t like doing that,” Bernie repeated.

“I know, but it’s nice being part of a team,” Dorothea promised. “Think about it?”

Hubert had two choices.

The first would be not getting enough people to join the volleyball club, which meant that Edelgard would be disappointed in him.

The second would be letting Flayn join, effectively leaving him to get murdered by the vice principal of his school for endangering his daughter.

With very little hesitation, Hubert selected the second option.

“We’re meeting after school, so you will need transportation home that isn’t the bus,” he reminded the freshman, who was looking at him with sparkling eyes.

“How old do you think I am? Five years old?” Flayn frowned as she crossed her arms. She had the same green hair as her father, falling in thick ringlets around her face. She was dressed in a blouse that looked to be old fashioned, like she was a porcelain doll being stood up in a display window. Hubert wasn’t convinced that she would be able to survive being hit by a volleyball, but it was her problem and not his.

“Yes,” Hubert said, but he handed her the sign up sheet. She took it quickly, signing her name while barely reading the content. It was the last period of the day and this was his last resort: the freshmen gym class. He was pretty sure that on the other side of the gym were sophomores, but he had already exhausted most of his options. He hated being in the gym while the other students were in there, none of them knew how to be quiet and it was impossible to nurse a complete thought before it could get cut off by a screaming teenager.

Hubert kept his eyes peeled until another one of the freshmen caught his attention. There was a girl in the corner of the gym was playing soccer against the wall. Gym classes didn’t properly start the first day, so most of the freshmen were grouped on the bleachers, trying to make friends. It was their insistent chatting that filled the room—reuniting with old friends from middle school and finding new ones that came from the different districts. All of them were expressing their fears of starting anew while trying to find new groups to hang out with.

Except for this girl.

She had her hair tied up into a thick braid and was hitting the wall with an insane amount of force when she kicked the soccer ball. Every time it slammed off of a mat, she trapped it with accuracy, leaving no room for it to bounce away.

“You’re not listening to me,” Flayn said, doing her best to hand Hubert the piece of paper back. He grabbed the paper, adding it back to his stack before immediately stalking towards the freshman, coming up behind her despite Flayn’s protests of being ignored.

“What is your name?”

He apparently scared the girl, who missed the ball that she had just kicked. It ricocheted off of the wall and slammed into Hubert’s side. He grunted at the force and did his best not to be annoyed at the freshman for what she had done, the ball rolling away.

“You have my apologies.” The girl’s eyes widened. “My name is Petra Macneary.”

“It is fine,” Hubert muttered. He knew that there would be a bruise. “I am Hubert. Would you be interested in a volleyball team? My friend is trying to start a team at the school and you would be a valuable asset.”

“Are exchange students have allow—be allowed?” Petra asked, correcting herself mid sentence. That would account for her accent and strange way of speaking, but it was nowhere near bad for a young girl. If anything, she sounded much more eloquent than most of gremlins around them.

“I don’t see why not.” Hubert already had the freshman signing the paper before he could even mention that they would be meeting for the first time in about half an hour.

“What is the volleyball?” Petra asked as she handed the paper back. “I don’t recognize the word.”

“It’s the sport with the net in the middle. You hit the ball back and forth on teams,” Hubert explained, hoping that would be good enough.

“Understood,” Petra nodded.

He let her be, walking over to the sophomore class’s side of the gym and taking a seat on the bleachers.

If Dorothea had managed to get the extra player, it would bring them up to nine. He groaned when he realized he was short one. He had spent all day getting signatures for Edelgard. The morning was solely tracking down every member of the disbanded boys’ volleyball team. He had only managed to get two of them, the rest not wanting to tempt fate.

Edelgard wanted it so badly and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to help. It was his best friend’s senior year and she wouldn’t have a team to belong to. After the boys’ volleyball team incident of the prior year, none of the girls had returned except for Edelgard. Their only loophole would be this team—and he was missing one signature.

Next to him on the bench was a boy curled up, using his backpack as a pillow. Hubert could use a nap, himself. He didn’t attend any of his classes, instead ambushing every possible option he had for the volleyball team. Hubert was exhausted and not sure if there was anything else he could do. He texted Edelgard:

“Any luck at all on your end?”

The response was almost immediate:

“None.”

He looked over the sheets, trying to figure out some sort of last-ditch effort. Printing out twenty had been optimistic, clearly. He entered all the numbers and names from the forms, adding them to a group text and sending out information for what classroom they would meet in once the bell had rang. The sooner they would be able to confirm the amount, the better. It was the only way the vice principle would give them a coach, which was needed for them to continue the club.

The boy next to him shifted.

It was nearing the end of the day, so Hubert shook him awake.

The sophomore with green hair yawned, barely glancing up at Hubert before closing his eyes again. “What do you want?”

“You have to sign this, it’s for class,” Hubert said with renewed urgency he shoved a pen into his hand. Half asleep, the boy signed his name just as the bell rang.

“Come with me, I’ll drive you home after.” Hubert yanked him up. He was much taller than he had expected, which by all means was good for a volleyball team. He followed without much complaint, still yawning as Hubert tugged him through the crowds of students rushing towards the busses, bustling with first day energy.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be dragging someone,” Edelgard said as he approached her locker. She was putting books back in, shouldering her backpack. Her hair was tied back with a lilac ribbon that matched her eyes. There was hope shining in them and Hubert still feared that it would be crushed. “What’s your name?”

“Why did you bring me here?” the boy asked, still not very aware of his surroundings. Or, he was and just didn’t care enough to argue.

“Volleyball meeting, you signed the paper to join the team,” Hubert said, using his free hand to check the sheet he had signed. “It’s Li… Lin—I can’t read this.”

“Linhardt.” He yawned.

“His name is Linhardt,” Hubert clarified to a skeptical Edelgard. “We might have enough people, barely.” He was still counting on Dorothea bringing an extra person.

“Hopefully,” Edelgard said. She closed her locker, her sweater dangling from her arms. “Ready to go to the classroom, then?”

The two walked side-by-side in the hall as they dragged Linhardt behind them. Even some of the seniors that they had shared classes with in the past four years would duck out of their way. He was sure it had nothing to do with Edelgard—she was one of the top athletes in the school and gained the attention of many of the students—but rather his looming presence that never left her side. Hubert never understood why it was such a big deal, considering that so many of the other girls in his grade would walk around in their own groups that never left one another alone. Nonetheless, he could only stand taller as the students got out of their way, all heading towards the fields instead of the classrooms.

“Do you think we’ll have enough?” Edelgard asked once more. Even though he could tell that there was doubt in her voice, it could only be heard with trained ears. The crowds were already thinning and he could see a couple of the newly recruited members already lingering outside of the door.

“I believe we will have enough,” Hubert said, but he didn’t want to promise anything. Without hesitation, they entered the classroom as he said a prayer under his breath.

“Thank you all for signing up, we don’t have a coach just yet—the school said they would hire someone once we had an official club—so I think for today we’re just going to do group introductions.” Edelgard stood at the front of the classroom, looking over the group that Hubert had managed to collect, trying not to show her… disappointment. Out of every member of the disbanded boys’ volleyball team, the one she wanted the least to show up was Ferdinand von Aegir. That, and Caspar von Bergliz, who played a huge role in the disbandment of the team in the first place.

Above all, there were only nine of them in the room.

“I’m Edelgard and I’ll be your captain,” she continued anyways. “I’m a senior and I plan to play as the libero. This is my assistant captain, Hubert.”

“I usually play as the setter,” Hubert said next to her. He then motioned for the next person to start. Edelgard preemptively sighed. She wasn’t the only one who seemed disinterested in what the man had to say. She caught sight of Constance rolling her eyes before he could even begin to speak, crossing her arms as she at next to Dorothea, anger flourishing in her pretty features.

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir,” he said proudly. “I’m a senior and I play as the outside—”

“Sorry, hon, I didn’t quite catch your name,” the girl from her last gym class—Dorothea—said from the back, a smug smile gracing her lips. She winked at Edelgard, twirling the end of her braid.

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir,” he repeated.

“How’s the first part pronounced?” Dorothea asked again and was about to get away with it before Hubert interrupted.

“Enough.”

The redhead looked insulted, but he stopped attempting his introduction as her assistant captain glared at him from the front of the room.

Edelgard frowned, bringing her fingers to her temple. Eventually, Dorothea took over the introduction. The captain had to admit that she was invited for selfish reasons, especially after she caught her attention the prior year. She was the star of their class regardless of athletic skill, her charisma helping her tiptoe her way into each person’s heart with compliments and flirtatious comments abound.

“I’m Dorothea, nice to meet all of you,” she said with a blinding smile. “I am also a senior. I have never played volleyball.”

“My name is Constance von Nuvelle.” Edelgard was surprised to see her, given the girl’s circumstances. She was sitting close to Dorothea, watching her as she gave her introduction. Edelgard had to admit that she didn’t remember the two of them being friends, but it was easy to read their body language. “I am also graduating this year.”

“Linhardt. Sophomore.” Linhardt didn’t seem interested in picking his head up from the table. Edelgard wasn’t sure how he had gotten there, but she was far past the point of questioning it.

“My name is Petra. I am a freshman and I am also not knowing of volleyball.” Edelgard was glad to see someone who seemed excited and likely not attempting to just be a pain in her ass.

“And I am Flayn. I’m also a freshman,” she said excitedly.

“Caspar. Defensive specialist and I’m a sophomore,” Caspar said. That was enough to confuse her, considering he had given two of the three concussions that got the boys’ volleyball team disbanded. It was… difficult to hit the other team hard enough to deliver a concussion if one wasn’t spiking the ball.

“So, that looks like all of us,” Edelgard said, still glancing towards the door. Perhaps she had been too hopeful about the team.

Just then—a tenth person walked in.

“Bernie!” Dorothea smiled, patting the seat next to her. The person scuttled in, hiding her hands in the sleeves of the sweatshirt that was too big on her. “Introduce yourself, darling.” Edelgard’s heart dropped a bit at the pet name.

“Oh, um. I’m Bernie,” she said.

“She’s a junior and also has not played before,” Dorothea filled in, smiling at Edelgard.

“That makes ten,” Edelgard said, not able to hide her smile. Somehow, Hubert had done it. He hadn’t put together an effective team by any means, but it was a team. “Hubert, do you mind sending the principal our roster?” He took out his phone, leaning against the chalkboard as he began to type out the names. “I was expecting more people who knew how to play volleyball, but I’m sure if we split up we will be able to cover all the rules on the first day of practice.”

“Who are we going to play?” Caspar asked, now kicking his feet up onto the front desk.

Edelgard glanced in the direction of Bernie and Dorothea, not wanting to scare them away. “The coach will have that information,” she decided on, not willing to admit that they might play against some of the other schools’ varsity teams. “I don’t want to keep everyone here, so please plan for another meeting on Friday. I’m not sure when we’ll have the new coach, but at the very least we’ll get in the gym to start learning the basics.” Edelgard looked to Hubert, to assure that she didn’t forget anything. “Thank you all so much and I’m looking forward to this season.”

“You did it,” Hubert said as she watched everyone get ready to leave. There was already chatter among the team members.

“You did it.” she turned to her best friend. “You really didn’t have to go out of your way for this.”

“And let you not play your last year?” Hubert shook his head.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Dorothea seemingly appeared in the front of the room. “It’s nice to see you. I think this is going to be fun.”

“Nice to see you,” Edelgard greeted, a bit confused as to why the girl approached her. Many of the others had already left the room in a rush, but Bernie and Constance also lingered. They both looked like they were waiting for Dorothea, but neither of them were speaking to one another.

“Can I grab your phone number?” Dorothea asked. “I could use some tips about how to prepare.”

“Of course.” She took the phone handed towards her, noting that she had put her name in as “Edie <3.” It was enough for her to blush, Dorothea managing to do something she had tried for most of the previous year just to fail: getting the other girl’s number.

“I think it’s a cute nickname.” Dorothea seemed to notice that she was staring at it, hesitating to put her number in. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I will not call you by it.”

“No, you’re okay,” Edelgard said, amused. “You do like your nicknames.” She could recall a plethora of pet names being thrown around to her teammates.

“Edie and Hubie.” She hummed, earning a nasty glare from the tall man. “Mind giving Bern and I a ride home?” Dorothea nodded towards Bernie, who was hovering in the doorway. Constance spun her own keys on her finger, waiting for all of them to walk out to the parking lot with one another.

“And there’s the ulterior motive,” Hubert said dryly.

“No, I think Edie will help me with volleyball. I’m a quick learner,” Dorothea said with a wink.

“We have the space,” Edelgard said, walking out of the room as a group of five. Bernie seemed skittish as they headed out of the building, but calmed considerably after Dorothea took her hand.

“Can you believe that Hubert is going to play Hamlet in the spring?”

“He’s going to what?” Edelgard looked to her friend, who now seemed thoroughly annoyed.

“Nothing to worry about,” Hubert said and Dorothea dissolved into laughter.

“You will make quite the foreboding Hamlet.” Constance didn’t bother to disguise her laugh—even Bernie hiding a giggle. “You already have the groveling down to perfection.”

“Constance, are you also in drama club?” Edelgard asked and the girl nodded.

“Dorothea requested I join for my skill in projecting my voice.”

“And is she not amazing?” Dorothea followed up. She smiled at Edelgard so brightly that it was difficult to hold the eye contact. She nearly turned down the wrong hallway if it wasn’t for Hubert leading her down the one towards the parking lot. “I have my predictions that she will land a starring role despite it being her first year.”

“You oversell me,” Constance said, but she was beaming at the praise.

“I think you will do wonderful,” Edelgard offered.

Perhaps the recruitment method had been… chaotic at best, but it wasn’t real practice yet. It felt good to be able to stick it to Rhea and Seteth with the roster, their jeers as they promised that she wouldn’t even be able to pull a team of ten. Their promise for a coach had been a bet that they assumed they would win—but her and Hubert had managed to do what they deemed impossible. Edelgard took a deep breath as she watched Hubert and Dorothea begin to bicker over his apparent “God-sent” role.

She had managed to put together a team. Somehow, she would make the fall season work.

Chapter Text

“Oh, there’s Edelgard and Hubert.” Caspar dragged an uninterested Linhardt behind him. “Edelgard!”

He could see the girl sigh as he yelled her name. The cafeteria at Garreg Mach was roaring around them in the usual chaos that overtook the lunch hour: kids screaming at one another as if they were  across the room instead of at the same table, music blasting from someone’s personal speaker, food being tossed at other students.

Edelgard rolled her eyes once more as he approached, Hubert answering instead, “What could you possibly need, Caspar?”

“How do you think we’re going to win with him on the team?” He jabbed a finger to Linhardt.

“He has a name,” Linhardt responded, taking a seat at the table.

Caspar pulled out a seat, throwing his bag on the ground. “This team isn’t going to work out. Half of them don’t know how to play volleyball.”

“I know that,” Edelgard said, taking a sip from her water bottle. Her lilac eyes didn’t leave his as she did the action and she didn’t look particularly amused. “We’ve been over this every day this week. It is now Friday.”

“They can learn,” Hubert said. “Until then, we will just need to compensate for the lack of skill.”

“How come you weren’t on the boys’ team, then? If you’re so confident.” Caspar had been wondering that, since he was apparently a setter. It wasn’t an easy position, to say the least. Hubert was just so stuck up about how he was a good player for someone who had never set foot on the school’s courts.

“I play for a different league, but it is none of your business. Linhardt is tall, he will learn how to play the net.”

“Oh, so you just need to be tall?!”

“Yelling,” Linhardt said.

“I’ll show you tall.”

“Caspar, sit down,” Edelgard chided as he jumped to his feet. Caspar sat back down, sitting on his feet so he could lean forward on the table. A few students at other tables were now looking at the out-of-place group. They likely saw him yelling and hoped that it would be another fabled fight between him and other students.

“Oh, hello! Can I sit with you?” Caspar looked behind him to see Flayn standing behind him holding a lunch tray. He didn’t personally know anything about the freshman except for the fact that she was the assistant principal’s pride and joy. He clearly remembered several photos of her in Seteth’s office the few times he had gotten in trouble.

“Sure, since I’m already babysitting,” Hubert said, his tone dry as Flayn sat down between Caspar and Linhardt. “Did your father say anything to you about the team?”

“He said I am ‘absolutely not playing,’ but he’s not in charge of me.” Flayn huffed. Caspar ate a carrot off of her tray.

“He is in charge of you, you’re an infant,” Hubert said and Flayn was about to argue when Linhardt interrupted.

“It looks like he might be coming to fix that,” he said.

Caspar followed his gaze and sure enough Seteth was standing in the middle of the zoo of students, glaring from table to table. His eyes locked with their table and began to cross the cafeteria at a frightening speed.

“Nope, can’t let him see me,” Caspar said, remembering his various threats after the fated volleyball match. Caspar had gotten rushed off of the bus after said match and straight into his office. Even so, he was glad that it was Seteth he was dealing with, not Rhea. Caspar did the obvious thing.

He dived under the table.

“What is wrong with you?” Linhardt kicked him lightly. Caspar stayed silent, listening to Edelgard’s aggravated sigh. Now that he was on the ground, he could see that she was wearing dress pants and heels to school. Who does that?

“Caspar von Bergliez, I can see you under the table.” Seteth’s voice boomed from above and despite not being religious, Caspar uttered a prayer. “Get up.”

“He’s not there,” Linhardt said in a smart-ass tone.

“Caspar, just get up,” Hubert said, also kicking him, and Caspar peeked over the table. Seteth didn’t look pleased, but his anger also didn’t seem directed at him.

“I cannot allow my daughter on your team,” Seteth said, turning to Edelgard and Hubert.

“She signed the paper,” Edelgard said.

“I’m playing, Father!” Flayn insisted.

“She says she’s playing, so that appears to be a family problem,” Hubert added.

“I just want to play, you won’t let me do anything,” Flayn continued. Even more people were watching, now, and Edelgard was rolling her eyes. Linhardt put his head down on the table, using Caspar’s balled up sweatshirt as a pillow.

“I don’t see why she can’t play,” Caspar interrupted the argument. “Look how excited she is!”

“It’s because of people like you.” Seteth rubbed his temples. “Two concussions in one game, how did you do that?”

“Sometimes the ball cannot be controlled,” Caspar said.

“If you focused on hitting it more than your battle cry, I’m sure it is possible,” Hubert said.

“The battle cry is important!” Caspar insisted. He wasn’t sure what everyone had against his screaming during the games (and practice… and team bonding… and general daily life), it raised team morale. He could see Flayn slowly sinking into herself. “Just let her play, there are risks in life. What is she going to gain if you don’t let her get hit around a bit?”

Flayn smiled, looking to her father with soft eyes. Even though Seteth liked protecting his daughter, Caspar had a feeling that he was also incredibly weak when it came to upsetting her. They would just have to push him a bit over the edge.

“If you don’t let your daughter do anything, she’s just going to act out down the line,” Linhardt added, helpfully. His hair fell over his face. “It’s volleyball or cocaine.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her,” Edelgard assured. “We all look out for each other on the court.” Caspar stuck his tongue out at the captain when she sent him a glare.

“Fine,” Seteth finally relented with a sigh.

“Yay!” Flayn nearly jumped out of her seat. “Thank you, Father!”

“But,” Seteth continued, trying not to make eye contact with his excited daughter, “I will be in charge of selecting the coach. I happen to have found a person by the name Byleth Eisner who was looking for work.”

“Eisner?” Edelgard asked. “As in the retired hockey player? They want to coach?”

“Byleth?” Flayn said nearly at the same time. “My cousin wants to work here?”

“Cousin?” Edelgard looked.

“Not cousins, but family some-many-times removed,” Flayn said. “It’s easier to just call them my cousin.”

“None of you are allowed to practice until we have a coach appointed—” so much for that day’s practice “—but hopefully they will be ready for Monday.”

“What’s that about a hockey player?” Caspar asked as Seteth left without a farewell, turning quick on his heels.

“One of the best hockey players of recent times. They absolutely dominated D1,” Edelgard said. “They were set for an extremely successful career on the United State’s women’s national ice hockey team… but had to stop due to health complications. It’s really unfortunate.”

“Since when do you know so much about hockey?” Flayn asked.

Edelgard visibly hesitated. “Family is big into it,” she said.

“Oh, that’s so cool! I’m going to join a team in winter, I just need to get Father on board!”

“You could barely get him to let you join a volleyball team, what’s going to happen when you get thrown across the ice?” Hubert asked.

Caspar didn’t know how a hockey player could help them, but they sounded respectable. He was sure that it didn’t matter because if they were able to play on Monday… it would be considered a win. As much as Edelgard seemed to neglect the fun of the sport—Caspar had to admit that he was glad for her bringing together a volleyball team. It had been crushing to lose his own towards the end of the last season, him and Ferdinand especially lamenting the loss. They, themselves, would never have the organizational skills to pull together their own team… so they just had to accept it for what it was.

“How’s school going?” Caspar asked Flayn as Hubert and Edelgard continued to discuss the new coach in whispers. Edelgard looked particularly intrigued, showing her friend something on her phone as if they were scheming the downfall of an entire country. Linhardt kept his head down on the table, regardless of how sticky it likely was underneath the sweatshirt pillow.

“It is going well, I have already made some new friends.” Flayn looked grateful for the question.

“Do you know anyone from your middle school?” Caspar asked. It had helped him get accustomed to the bigger, much more terrifying Garreg Mach high school to know familiar faces such as Ferdinand or even Linhardt. He would have hardly considered them friends prior to the team forming, but they were comforting nonetheless.

“No,” Flayn said with a slight frown. “I was in online school up until now.”

“Yeah—that makes a lot of sense.” Caspar raised his eyebrows, but cut back his sarcasm when he saw the freshman frown. “I’m glad you made it on the team then! It’s going to be fun!”

“Constance, darling, you need to mix it a bit faster than that.” Dorothea joined her at the counter, taking the plastic spatula from her hands.

“I was doing just lovely,” Constance insisted, but rubbed at her arms. The batter was seemingly fighting against her the whole time, so she couldn’t argue as her friend laughed and took over. Constance was in a study hall with the freshman—Petra—when she offhandedly mentioned that her birthday was on Monday. Since she was new to the school, they weren’t going to let her celebrate by herself. As soon as Constance had gotten off of work she picked up Dorothea and they got the supplies at the grocery store. She always loved when Dorothea would tag along on her errands—it made everything seem a little bit less lonely and much more bearable.

“How’s Yuri and Hapi? Been around lately?” Dorothea asked as she stirred the mix. They were just making it from the box, but it was already looking good.

“Yuri stopped by on the first day of school to make dinner,” Constance said. “Balthus insisted on a movie night and Hapi’s been busy.”

“That’s good,” Dorothea said with a smile. Constance knew all too well that Dorothea was just making sure she hadn’t been alone at her apartment all week, but it was as if she assumed that she spent all her time alone.

Then again, was that a wrong assumption?

Dorothea would always ask the same questions, her intentions hiding underneath. Asking what she had for dinner were always a reminder to eat, the same as asking if she needed help with her laundry. Dorothea wasn’t positive that Constance could take care of herself without the gentle reminders, but the problem was she wasn’t false in her accusations. Constance would hardly remember to do anything if it wasn’t for Dorothea’s companionship.

“Do you mind getting the liners out?” Dorothea asked.

“Of course.” Constance grabbed the package, dropping the printed papers into the pan. They had little smiley faces on them. She could have moved in with Yuri and Hapi after her family’s death, but then she would be outside of the school district. A brand new school to repeat her senior year sounded like hell on Earth, so she continued to pay rent on a small and run down apartment. The kitchen was cramped and dim in her home, the light on the ceiling barely reaching the corners. It was lonely at times, but she had Yuri, Hapi, Balthus—

“See, a natural!” And Dorothea. “You almost had it mixed completely, it was just a little lumpy.”

“You completed all the work.” Constance frowned. It was nice to make cupcakes for Petra’s birthday. She would have normally been making a cake with her mom for her brother’s birthday in August. This year she could barely get out of bed on the day because it was too—

“Con, you okay?” Dorothea asked. She put a hand over hers. “If you need me to stop talking to you, we can be quiet, I don’t mind.”

“No, no. There is no need.” She took a deep breath. “My mind keeps wandering terribly, my apologies.”

“What can I do to help?”

“It would be splendid if you could continue to speak,” Constance said. She really didn’t know it was possible to become acquainted with someone for three months and feel like she’s been by her side for her whole life. And it was all in the little things: always being there to help her, getting her to join clubs, inviting her over for Sunday dinner in her foster family’s small dining room and praying hand in hand with them.

“Keep talking… you know, I think I can do that one.” Dorothea laughed, a sound that filled the small kitchen. She began to pour the mix into the cupcake liners, doing her best not to drip the batter onto the pan. “So, I know I’m playing volleyball because I want more than anything to see Hubie act as Hamlet… but how come you’re so pumped?”

“If it is truly your desire to know,” Constance started, but faltered in tone, “Edelgard is Captain.”

“Well, how much do you like Edelgard von Hresvelg?” Dorothea asked as she put the cupcakes into the oven, being careful not to touch the heated metal. Constance held her breath, hating the idea of Dorothea getting hurt for her sake. Dorothea completed the task easily, swinging the door to the oven shut.

Constance stalled, using the moment to set a timer on her phone. “How much do you like Edelgard?”

“A lot.” Dorothea smiled. “We’ve been texting all week and it’s kind of amazing. Sure, I can already tell that she’s competitive, but honestly I’m looking forward to playing with her.”

It reminded her of the time Dorothea came out to her as polyamorous. She had tried to do so casually, but Constance had watched her fingers tremble as she explained how she loved. Her foster parents were religious and Dorothea went to church with them every Sunday. Constance knew that Dorothea could take care of herself (she took care of Constance, after all)—but she still worried.

Her admitting this crush was similar, with the casual tone in her voice while her eyes watched Constance’s face for any semblance of a reaction. Dorothea was an actress, that was for sure.

“I will back off if you like her,” Dorothea added, bringing Constance’s attention back to her. “Or we could share.” She winked.

“It’s not that!” Constance insisted, following her into the small living room. They usually set up her laptop to watch Netflix, Dorothea typing in Constance’s passcode. “My parents worked for her father. Hresvelg Corporation,” she clarified. “It would be grand if I could get an internship out of high school, that is all.”

She knew that it would be a shot in the dark—she had done her research, most of their interns were from prestigious business schools—but she hoped that her parents’ hard work would proceed her.

“It doesn’t hurt to try, but don’t go befriending her just for favors,” Dorothea warned. She was pondering the suggestions on the home screen. “God, she’s pretty.”

Constance sighed. She didn’t mean to, she never meant to be jealous of Dorothea’s gushing, but it would come in waves. Dorothea was charismatic, luring in people by her words. She could never distinguish between the girl’s teasing and flirting. Besides, there was a large possibility that the only reason she had become friends was out of pity. It stirred a strange guilt in the pit of her stomach to doubt Dorothea’s intentions, but the irrational part of her brain wouldn’t let it sit still.

“You’re beautiful as well, Con,” Dorothea said with a smile to counter Constance’s own frown. She sat closer to her on the couch. “Thank you for letting me hijack your kitchen. Don’t want to get in Mary and Harold’s way.”

“It’s too quiet anymore without you here,” Constance said, and she meant it. Over the summer she became accustomed to Dorothea and her chatter. Depended on it. “Did you pick a show?”

“Baking show in honor of our stunning performance in the kitchen?”

“Sure.”

Constance hardly paid attention as Dorothea found a baking show where none of the contestants were professionals. It was more fun that way—watching them venture into the world of sweets with no prior experience. It wasn’t meant to be watched for the results they brought to the judges, so to speak, but rather for the character of the contestants. Some were nervous to plate their food, already knowing that they would fail to earn the trophy. Others were filled with unfounded confidence, even though Constance could taste how bland their cake was through the screen.

Her favorite contestants were the ones that knew that they had fucked up, but were still willing to bluff about their dessert as if it were fit for the gods. The food would be nowhere near divine, but their personalities always shined through as they explained how they most definitely meant for the cake to fall over and crumble onto the tray, that it was just a feature of their design. “De-constructed” as some would call it.

Constance’s bad mood faded away as Dorothea laughed along to the show, pulling her in and taking petty bets against one contestant or another. The girl cuddled closer to her, checking the timer on their own project occasionally. Monday would come and her final year of high school would begin in full-force. Yuri had promised her that the second time would be a charm, but she wasn’t so sure.

“Feeling better, I hope?” Dorothea asked, taking Constance’s hand into hers.

Constance squeezed it, trying to will a stronger voice behind her words, but failing to find them. There was no need to hide from Dorothea, but she knew that it would make her happier if she could summon it. “Feeling better.”

Dorothea accepted the words that she settled on, the cupcakes nearly done in the oven.

Something informed Linhardt that he shouldn’t tell the coach that the reason he stayed on the team was to skip gym class entirely. Even though they seemed laid back enough (holding a clipboard in one hand and a giant coffee in the other), the coach held themself with a certain degree of confidence. Just their posture was enough to make him grow sleepy, even before they had spoken a word.

“This is Coach Eisner and they will be in charge of your team,” Seteth introduced as they stood in front of the small group of teens. The person in front of them had sweatpants and a tight shirt on, their navy hair tucked into a ponytail. Linhardt and his teammates were all in various levels of “volleyball appropriate” attire and to be honest, Linhardt had kept his jeans on.

“Thanks, Seteth. I’ll keep them in line,” they said. Seteth seemed pleased with himself, stalking off to the bleachers. It was no surprise that he would be watching the practice to make sure his baby angel wouldn’t get a bruise. As soon as he was far away enough, Byleth began to talk. “Don’t call me that. Byleth is fine or even ‘Coach.’” They looked to the team, sizing them up. “If you know about my professional career, I don’t really care to talk about it. No hard feelings, but I’m just here to teach you how to play. I use they/them pronouns and don’t use gendered terms, so respect that. I also cannot physically participate in practice due to medical complications, but I will be relying on your Captain and Co-Captain for demonstrations.”

And with the mini-spiel, that was the most Linhardt would ever hear out of their new coach in one go. Byleth wasn’t one to partake in smalltalk or formalities, which was fine by him. There was no need to waste extra words, especially if it would lengthen practice. Everyone went around the circle and introduced themselves once more, this time with pronouns. Linhardt remembered most of the names, it was a bit too difficult to forget the big personalities. He even knew that it was Petra’s birthday, thanks to Constance and Dorothea bringing in two dozen cupcakes. It wasn’t Linhardt’s style, but the freshman looked elated.

The coach had a few extra questions about how knowledgeable they were on the sport and any kind of experience that they would be able to bring to the court. They frowned for a moment when they realized how many of their new players had never touched a volleyball, but their apathetic expression returned after scribbling a few lines on their clipboard. Byleth finished their notes, then the team was off running.

Literally running.

Linhardt had heard from an upperclassman that joining a team sport gave an automatic pass in gym classes. Even if it meant staying after school at the very least both his gym teachers and parents would be off his back. The goal was the gym teachers would stop attempting to fail him for not participating in the group activities and his parents wouldn’t hound him to join a club where he could “actually make friends for once.” He didn’t know that volleyball would involve running.

“C’mon, Linhardt. It’s only two laps around the gym,” Caspar urged him along, Linhardt barely over the speed of walking. Everyone else had already done their laps but he was taking his blissful time. Until Caspar was shoving him along as his feet dragged and shuffled against the gymnasium floor. It was oddly silent as he finished up the lap, only the sound of his feet hitting the ground in poor sneakers and Caspar’s needless screaming. He was used to the insistent noise of gym classes, the high-pitched yells of teenage boys who didn’t quite reach puberty yet as they pummeled each other with flat basketballs.

At the very least, Linhardt deserved a nap after the two laps, but instead Byleth had them line up and learn how to receive the ball.

“Linhardt, you got that?” they asked as they stood in front of him. He had barely listened, instead daydreaming of working on his project when practice ended in approximately one hour, forty five minutes, and twenty seconds. Byleth tossed him the ball and he did as instructed, pressing his hands together and letting it connect with his arms. The ball bounced off, not straight but somewhat up in the air. “Close. Need to make sure to move your body so that you can get it up without trouble.”

“Can we settle for ‘good enough?’”

“No.” Byleth moved on.

Next to him was a shaking Bernie.

“No, no, no.” Her eyes widened. Even though he hadn’t paid much attention to the rest of the line, the borderline shrieking was enough to hold his interest. He was sure there couldn’t possibly be a reason to be this hysteric over volleyball.

“It’s fine,” Byleth said. “Just the same motion as everyone else.”

“What if it hits me?”

“I’m just tossing it. It won’t hurt.”

“I don’t think she can handle being in a game,” Hubert said, stepping out of line and furrowing his brows at the other player. Constance and Petra both shrank back as he began to head towards Bernie, but Dorothea stepped into his way.

“She can do it!” Dorothea smiled. “Bern, you got this!”

Byleth considered and then tossed the ball especially gently towards Bernie. She screamed and dived away, refusing to make contact with the ball. It hit the floor with a thud, rolling away.

“Yeah, no. I have to agree with Hubert,” Caspar said.

“Well, we don’t really have a choice, do we?” Edelgard put her hands on her hips. Linhardt laughed to himself, knowing that this eclectic team would be quick to be torn apart at the seams. “You can’t be afraid of the ball, Bernie.”

Bernie stepped backwards when Edelgard started towards her. Dorothea once again stood between her and Bernie, like a guard dog protecting its owner. “She’s learning. Not everyone can be as skilled as you right off the bat,” she said with a gentle smile.

“Edelgard,” Byleth got her attention. They had gotten the ball that had bounced away from Bernie. “It’s day one, no big deal.”

“Yes, Coach.” Edelgard sounded a bit defeated and it amused Linhardt. He didn’t want to pass judgment too quickly, but the girl seemed to be exhausting. Sure, it had to feel good being the top of everything, but where was the fun in that if you couldn’t enjoy it? Edelgard had a scowl on her face nearly the entire practice, especially having some choice words against him when he dragged himself through the second lap. She watched them like an eagle, not taking her eyes off of them as they went through the motions of practice, brows furrowing when a movement wasn’t satisfactory. She observed her own work with the same scrutiny, never settling for anything less than perfection.

“Bernie, you can do it next time, I’ll just move down the line. Grab a drink,” Byleth directed, moving onto Ferdinand who was more than ready to show his receiving skills. Bernie still seemed shaken by the encounter, but Dorothea was by her side as she got water.

“I mean we don’t need everyone on the court, she can just sit out,” Edelgard was saying to Hubert.

“Or let her try more than once?” Caspar asked, earning a glare from the captain. Linhardt just yawned, bringing the attention to him. “What, are we boring you?”

“A bit,” Linhardt said. “To be honest, you’re taking this too seriously.”

“Oh no, I like the sport I play, sue me,” Caspar taunted, crossing his arms. Hubert and Edelgard just stalked off, getting ready to start the next drill with Byleth. The others stood around a bit more aimlessly: Constance looking lost without Dorothea at her side, Flayn attempting to dodge the glares from her father, Petra playing with the end of her braid, and Ferdinand jumping into the air to spike an invisible ball.

In the end, Linhardt left that first lesson with promises of daily practices from that day forward, a homework assignment to learn the positions and rules of the game, and one massive headache from listening to the team bicker amongst themselves.

Was it worth a pass in gym class? He would have to see. At the very least he would have another study hall during the day and an opportunity to sneak into the labs while the teachers were too busy teaching basic biology lessons to freshman and seniors who couldn’t care any less. It wasn’t like he ever had plans after school besides scouring journals and diving into Wikipedia articles—he wasn’t one to spend time with family and had no friends that would take up his valuable time. It would be a trade: one hour of blissful silence in the lab in exchange for two hours of mindless bickering in the gymnasium after school.

Chapter Text

With the first week of practices combining with a new school, time went by like a blur. By her last class on Friday, Flayn couldn’t contain her excitement. She was practically bouncing in her seat, tapping her pen against the paper as the teacher drilled on about historical events long in the past.

“Do you have excitement?” Petra leaned over, whispering the question to her. Even though they were the two freshmen of the team, they only had one class together. Flayn wished the bright girl was in more of them, but they had fallen into the habit of sitting with each other for lunch, Bernie joining them more often than not. “My heart is having a race.”

“Oh, yes! Ever so,” Flayn said, earning a look from the teacher for her raise in volume. He was about to say something, but the bell rang. “Let’s go!” She took Petra’s hand, navigating their way to the freshman hallway through the crowds of students rushing to the busses. They grabbed their sports bags from their lockers then met up with the others at the locker room.

“I think the shirts came out fine, Edelgard,” Hubert said as they walked into the girls’ locker room. Their captain had a box open that was filled with t-shirts. Kids from other sports teams were looking skeptically at the tall shadow of a man, cautiously stepping around him. “Good job.”

“Here you go, Flayn and Petra.” Edelgard tossed them each a white t-shirt that had “Garreg Mach” scribbled on the front with a black marker and then a number with their last name on the back. Even though Edelgard’s handwriting was neat, there was only so much control one could have when writing on an uneven surface with a Sharpie. “The school didn’t allocate us funds and they wouldn’t let us use the boys’ uniforms, so this is what we got.”

“How does it look, Edie?” Dorothea twirled around the corner with her shirt tied up to a crop top and her hair gathered into a bun. Flayn was shocked that her shorts were so short, but it wasn’t unusual for her. It wouldn’t be Dorothea if she wasn’t evading Rhea half the day in hopes of avoiding a dress code violation. “Cute, right?”

“Very nice,” Edelgard said, “but the ref will ask you untie it.”

“Their loss,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Why is Hubert in the room for girls?” Petra asked.

“I needed the t-shirts,” Hubert said.

“Oh, okay.” Flayn smiled, looking at the t-shirt. Perhaps it wasn’t the uniform she was expecting, but it was a uniform nonetheless. It was exciting to be a part of a team, all of them working together!

“Edelgard! Do you have the shirts?” a loud voice penetrated the locker room.

“Yes, Ferdinand,” Edelgard hissed, throwing the shirt as hard as she could and socking him in the face with it. Flayn had watched the captain grow increasingly frustrated throughout the week with the other boy. He was a good player, but easily the most boastful of the team. She truly thought Hubert was planning to hit him with his car in the parking lot when given the chance. Flayn assumed that the only reason it had yet to happen was because then they would be down a member for the team. It was a choice of having a volleyball team or being free from Ferdinand von Aegir.

“Just shirts?” Ferdinand asked. “Wow, they look like you did them by hand. It’s lopsided”

“Thanks,” Edelgard said, dryly. “I used our budget and my abundance of free time, Ferdinand.”

“I believe the shirts are lovely, Edelgard!” Constance joined from a different row of lockers, wearing her own shirt. “What an honor that it has been graced by the name von Nuvelle.”

“Get out of the girls room.” Edelgard turned to the two boys. “You’re going to get us in trouble.” She motioned to the soccer team who was shying away from the boys.

“Hey, not all the feminine presenting people on our team are even girls,” Dorothea said. “I think the whole gendered restroom thing sucks.”

“Yes, I agree,” Edelgard raised her eyebrows, “but I don’t think the administration will help us with that if Ferdinand is in here.”

“I’m just getting the uniform,” Ferdinand said. “I wouldn’t do anything indecent—”

“Oh, cool! Uniforms!” Caspar slammed the door open, still somehow dragging Linhardt behind him. Flayn was sure that he was half-asleep by this time in the afternoon. She had caught glimpses of him once or twice throughout the day—he hardly seemed to spend much time awake. As long as he was here, however, they would be able to play. “Why do they kind of suck?”

“Edelgard and I did not receive any funding,” Hubert reiterated. Flayn could have sworn that their captain looked hurt, but the expression disappeared as soon as it had come, back to her stoic gaze.

“Hey!” They all turned to see one of the coaches—Catherine—glaring at them. The woman also happened to be Flayn’s gym teacher, and she could be terrifying once she shed her laid-back exterior. If she had remembered from the other day, she coached the soccer team during fall and softball during spring. “What the ever-loving hell do you think you’re doing?”

“T-shirts,” Linhardt said, holding his up in a ball.

“That doesn’t mean you can—” her voice began to raise as she stormed towards them, half of the team stumbling to get out of the way. Catherine was about to get to them when the locker room door opened again. Flayn felt her heart skip a few beats.

“They’re mine,” a voice said as they entered the room, “sorry about it. We’re heading out now.”

Byleth was standing in the doorway, hair tied back and twisting their car keys on their finger.

“Coach! They are harassing us,” Constance announced. “We were just getting changed!”

“Get out of the locker room, we can talk about this later,” they said. “Is everyone dressed?” They were all herded out with their bags, Byleth making sure each one of them had a shirt on and telling Dorothea to put hers on properly. Flayn and Petra quickly got their uniforms on, not wanting to keep the coach waiting.

Once they all gathered outside in the gym, Byleth turned to them. “If the locker room situation is making anyone uncomfortable, I can try to talk to the school. That being said, unless some of you aren’t telling me something—and I will happily correct myself—you can’t just do that.” They aimed their gaze at the boys, who kind of shrugged.

Flayn was surprised when Bernie raised her hand. “Well, um, it’s always been an issue at this school. I’m non-binary… but without a note from a parent they aren’t willing to accommodate.”

“Okay, I’m sorry about that.” The coach nodded to Bernie, voice softening. “Tomorrow I’ll try to get in contact with the school and I will do my best to work on fixing that.”

Bernie’s face brightened and Flayn smiled. Flayn wouldn’t mind sharing the space with her teammates, but she wasn’t sure if the school would be thrilled with their proposition while other sports were still in session. Her dad did have a soft-spot for their cousin, though, so she hoped that they would be able to make Bernie feel more comfortable.

“Now, we were provided no busses,” Byleth continued. “I worked it out with Edelgard, but we might have to start bringing funds for gas money. Hubert will be driving Edelgard, Petra, Ferdinand, and Caspar. Constance offered to drive Dorothea and Bernie… that leaves Linhardt and Flayn in my truck.”

“Why do I have to go with you?” Linhardt questioned. “Constance has enough space.”

“Would you show up or would you walk away?”

“Fair enough.” Linhardt backed down.

“Okay,” Byleth clapped their hands together. “Exciting.”

They said it with little enthusiasm, nothing to show that they were actually excited for their first match. Flayn would like to say that they were, but it was how her cousin always had been for as long as she could remember, only the apathetic expression and tone were much stronger following their accident. Vaguely Flayn could recall moments where them and Jeralt would visit, Byleth playing soccer with her in the backyard even as her father groveled over the decision.

Jeralt would always lay a heavy hand on his shoulder and tell him to lighten up.

Even now, as Byleth started the car and let country music roll through the speakers, they showed no sign of a smile. Linhardt grumbled as he got into the back about the music choice, but Byleth didn’t even bother to correct him. Flayn looked to Byleth, but was worried she would be turned down if she attempted a conversation. She sat uneasy in the silence.

“What’s that look?” Byleth asked, glancing over as they followed Constance’s small car out of the lot.

“Just worried about the game,” Flayn lied, not liking the distance when paired with memories of scoring goals against them and tumbling on the freshly-mowed lawn.

“It will be a great first game,” Byleth assured, offering no other words.

It was not a great first game.

Ferdinand was sure that Hubert was going to kick him out of a moving vehicle after insisting on a change in music, but he made it in one piece to the opposing high school. Byleth led all of them into the gym, where a team was already warming up on the court in full uniform. He knew that it wouldn’t be who they were going up against, since it was a team of girls.

“Hey.” Byleth walked up to the opposing coach. “Thank you for your time, I’m Byleth and I’m the coach for the Garreg Mach team.”

As they spoke to the coach, the other team began to take notice of Ferdinand’s team. They snickered quietly, their red uniforms noble compared to the generic-brand t-shirts.

“This is the girls’ team,” Ferdinand said to Edelgard.

“Yes, the varsity team offered to play against us.”

Ferdinand frowned. It would be unfair to play against a team of girls. The net would be lowered and, especially with Ferdinand and Hubert playing the front lines, it would be easy to spike and block.

“Coach, we should warm up before the game starts,” Hubert said once Byleth had exchanged information.

“I said no to a warm up, we need a pep talk more than anything.”

“You said no to a warm up?” Edelgard asked. Ferdinand had to agree with her for once. It seemed foolish to go into a game without even touching one of the balls. Especially when Bernie had yet to successfully hit or receive a ball without running in the other direction.

“Okay, circle up.” Byleth ignored their pleas and gathered them on the bleachers. Ferdinand noticed that Edelgard looked tense. She was wearing a black t-shirt—standard for the libero, who had to stand out from the rest of the team’s uniform. The freshmen seemed nervous, but in good spirits, while Edelgard had her fists clenched, looking at the other team. “Ferdinand, Linhardt, and Petra—you’ll be starting in the front. Caspar, Hubert, and Flayn will start in the back. We didn’t go much into libero rules, but Edelgard will be constantly switching in and out, okay? Constance, Dorothea, Bernie—don’t take offense that I’m not starting with you.”

“It’s understandable,” Dorothea promised. Ferdinand saw her improve greatly in the single week that she had been playing, but she wasn’t as naturally gifted as Petra had been. He assumed that Flayn was picked to start over Constance for the vote of confidence. Constance was another player who wasn’t terrible, but wouldn’t necessarily be beneficial to have on the court when she could only serve over the net half the time. It wasn’t what one would consider consistent.

“We can’t play a girls team,” Ferdinand followed his duty by speaking up. “The net is lowered, we have the advantage.”

“They are also an established team,” Byleth said, their eyes drifting over to where some of the girls were now glaring at them. “They are a varsity team, Ferdinand. I know you came from a much more skilled group than our current situation, but don’t underestimate them.”

“We are also skilled!” Caspar insisted.

“You mustn’t be so quick to dismiss us, Coach!” Constance added.

“Well,” Byleth looked at their team, “glad to see the confidence.”

And so the game began.

They started with the ball, Hubert waiting for everyone to take their positions on the court. Ferdinand couldn’t help but to notice that all the girls on the other side of the net looked… pissed off. And for some reason they were all glaring daggers at him?

“Ah, they want to kill you, Ferdinand,” Linhardt said beside him. This was the first time they had gotten the boy to wear something that wasn’t jeans to play volleyball. Even so, he looked like he was being terribly bothered by the whole ordeal, his hair loose and framing his face.

“Why will they be killing Ferdinand?” Petra asked.

“Because he thinks he’s better than a whole varsity team?” Linhardt suggested.

“All I meant by it was that we would have a clear advantage!” Ferdinand insisted, but Hubert interrupted any further explanation.

“Ferdinand. Shut up.”

Hubert backed up, bouncing the ball hard against the ground. He threw the it into the air and began to run, jumping up and sending the ball sailing over the net. Ferdinand had to hand it to Coach—it was smart to start with someone who could jump serve, then transition to the front line where he would be a force to be reckoned with.

The serve soared onto the court, dropping before the other team could reach it. They probably weren’t expecting a strong hit from such a ragtag team.

Flayn cheered for the point and Hubert attempted the same on the second serve, but this time the ball was hit up into the air. The team fell into formation, the girls calling out to one another to make sure that they knew who was getting the ball. The ball was set up and Ferdinand watched as the offensive line set up to spike.

Instead of blocking, Ferdinand’s hands flew to his face because the ball was aimed directly at it. It ricocheted off his hands and spiraled towards the bleachers where the rest of the team was sitting, Bernie screaming and diving away.

“That isn’t how you block, Ferdinand von ‘it’s unfair we have an advantage’ Aegir,” Hubert said, dryly.

“It was coming right for my face!” Ferdinand huffed.

“Then push it upwards.” Hubert sighed, readying himself for the opposing team’s serve. The server on the other team served overhand, but aimed directly at Flayn, singling her out as the new player on the back row. She attempted to get the ball, but it practically rolled off her arms and onto the floor as the other team cheered.

“You’re good, Flayn!” Coach raised their voice from the bleachers, making sure that the freshman looked towards them. “Remember how you got the ball up in practice!”

It took about three more tries, but finally Flayn was able to receive the ball without much issue. The ball barely got into the air, but it was enough for Caspar to send it over the net, knowing that there wouldn’t be much room for a spike. As the ball worked its way back over, Ferdinand yelled for Linhardt to get to his side. “Block!”

By the time the girl attempted to spike, Ferdinand jumped into the air and the ball brushed his hand. It would have been exactly where Linhardt would be if he bothered to play the game. Instead, it spiraled off of Ferdinand with a weird spin and even though Caspar attempted to save the rally, the ball hit the ground.

“Linhardt?!” Ferdinand had to keep himself from yelling. The sophomore just shrugged at him.

“Linhardt, you have to move,” Byleth said, clearly disappointed. “Most sports involve movement.” This earned them a weak thumbs up from the boy in question.

“Flayn, do that again, that was great,” Ferdinand said. “We can get this back!”

The next serve was a blessing, considering it shifted a bit in the air and was received by Caspar, who was able to get it up into the air.

“Mine,” Hubert called, shifting towards the middle of the court. “Petra.”

He set the ball, Caspar shifting to cover the defensive position he had left. Ferdinand watched as Petra jumped up, connecting with the ball and getting it over the net. It wasn’t the strongest spike, but it got past the blocking player and bounced off the ground.

“I earned a score!” Petra cheered. With the rotation of lines, Byleth used this momentum as a chance to get their star player in. Ferdinand watched as the libero took Flayn’s position in the defensive line, readying herself for the game. If there was any time to score points it would be now, with Caspar, Edelgard, and Petra in defensive position. Ferdinand would have preferred if his and Hubert’s positions were switched, but they could make it work. The three boys in the front towered over the opposing team.

Their momentum only took them to ten points, the other team sitting at a comfortable five when Caspar’s serve went spiraling into the net. Ferdinand was all smiles until he saw the opposing server jump serve. He watched as the ball came towards them and realized this would be their team’s worst nightmare: it was a float serve.

The ball flew towards Petra but dropped suddenly, even Edelgard’s warning not giving her enough time to get to the ball.

“The ball were… was strange,” Petra said as the team set up again.

“It’s a float serve,” Edelgard explained. “There’s no spin, so it’s hard to predict where it will drop. Just watch it carefully and you should be able to receive it.”

That wasn’t the case. The opposing team earned their final twenty points of the set with ease, Each time Petra wasn’t able to get the ball, the team grew more and more frustrated themselves. Well, more like Edelgard was beginning to criticize their every receive and potential play, lashing out at them for incorrect movements. Ferdinand winced when she told Caspar off, the boy clenching his fists in an effort to not make a scene.

It was enough of a problem that Coach Byleth pulled her and brought Flayn back in.

Even Ferdinand was surprised to see her benched. Sure, they weren’t playing as well as they could, but Ferdinand recognized that there were new players on the court and this was their first game. It was unfair to blame them for the downfall. Even if he had been the one to underestimate the opposing team, he didn’t turn against his own.

Byleth bristled on the sidelines when Edelgard traded some words with them, sitting heavily on the bleachers.

Petra didn’t know Edelgard very well, but she knew her well enough to know that being benched had angered her beyond belief. The libero watched as the second set was almost a wipe, her teammates finally getting the serve back once they were down eighteen points. Each Petra she caught sight of Edelgard on the bleachers, her captain had her arms crossed and was scowling at all of the teammates on the court. It made Petra uncomfortable, but it made sense that she would be upset about losing.

Once they won the serve, Byleth called a timeout to switch in some of the players.

Even on the court, Petra could hear Byleth trying to talk Bernie down. “I’m only going to put you in for one point, then take you out. I’m not even asking you to hit the ball, I just want you to try not to scream.”

“I… I don’t think I can do it.” Bernie shrank away from her coach.

“Hey, I’ll be right next to you!” Dorothea assured.

“You’re on the other side of the line up,” Byleth said.

“Hey,” Dorothea repeated, “Constance will be right next to you!”

“Okay,” Coach said. They called out Linhardt, Ferdinand, and Hubert, switching out the team for a majority of new players. Edelgard whispered something under her breath, the coach turning to face her. “What was that, Edelgard?”

“I said that this is a waste of our time.” She motioned to the players that were called off… all of the blockers that could be considered effective. “You think that we can win like this?”

“No, I don’t,” Coach said, barely looking up. “You need to watch that attitude of yours.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me perfectly.”

Petra wouldn’t say that their coach looked angry, but the energy between the two was bristling in the humid gym air, even the opposing team looking uncomfortable with the exchange. Petra was genuinely surprised that Edelgard would speak so harshly to someone older than her—teammates were one thing, but talking back to the coach? The white-haired girl huffed and Hubert looked like he was about to speak, but she caught his wrist with her hand.

Petra could hear the other team snickering as Bernie and the others took the court and she clenched her fists. Sure, they weren’t doing a good job, but they were trying their best! Constance started with the ball, hitting it underhand and right over the net. Perhaps it wasn’t as strong as the boys’, but Petra cheered knowing that it went over at all, trying to shake off the negative energy that was coming from their bench. The other team set up and she could tell that they were planning to spike it at the back line.

Her eyes widened when she realized they were aiming right at Bernie, who was stationed in the middle of the defensive line.

“Bernie!” Petra yelled, practically shoving her out of the way in order to receive the ball. Bernie shrieked, slamming into Constance who tumbled to the ground.

The ball flew up into the air, Flayn hitting it once more before Dorothea attempted to spike it over the net, accidentally hitting the net itself. The ref blew the whistle for the violation, while Petra turned to see if Bernie was okay.

Physically she looked fine, but she was also curled up on the ground, half sprawled over Constance. Dorothea hovered over them, trying to get Bernie to stand up on shaky legs.

“Ref, can we sub #30 back in for #12.” Byleth pointed to Ferdinand. “I don’t think it’s good to have her on the court at the moment.”

The referee didn’t bother to argue, letting Dorothea escort Bernie off of the court and make sure she was settled before returning to the game. Petra helped Constance off the ground, who was muttering under her breath about being pushed around.

“All for a foolish game that none of us excel in!”

“Bernie is like prey,” Petra said, “she wasn’t meaning to hurt you.”

“Okay, I’m back!” Dorothea announced. Coach Byleth was busy fretting over Bernie, making sure that she wasn’t injured in the fall.  The players gathered in their own faux huddle, Dorothea awfully cheery for someone who just watched her partner take out her best friend on the court. “Let’s get one point before we lose the set.”

“We won’t lose the set,” Ferdinand said. “We can take it to the third!”

“We’re losing this set,” Dorothea patted his back, “but I like the confidence, Ferdie. Ferdie… oh I forgot your last name.”

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir.”

“Stop doing that, Dorothea,” Caspar snapped.

“Doing what?”

“Pay attention to the game!” They all turned to Byleth, who raised their voice. “It’s not over yet.”

Petra and her teammates tried their best, but without having Hubert or Edelgard on the court to balance out their lack of skill, they found it difficult to break the streak that the other team was building. The two were hardly paying attention to the game, both of them too engrossed in their own whispers on the bench. Petra knew that their team didn’t ever run like a well-oiled machine, but she had no clue that they would be able to fall apart so dramatically during a game. By the time the set ended and they had lost, Petra’s arms stung from receives that never quite made their way over the net.

“You did such a good job!” Flayn stood next to her as they thanked the other team (who all seemed a bit too smug about beating Ferdinand).

“You also had a good job.” Petra smiled. Even though Flayn was the smallest on the team, she had been on the court the whole match. She was out of breath, but otherwise looked to be in good spirits. Petra wondered why her father was so insistent on not letting her on the court in the first place. She made it out in one piece—even not taking as much damage as Caspar, who had thrown himself on the ground a few times attempting to get the ball up into the air.

“So, that’s how a game plays,” Byleth said as they all circled around.

“It's not how a game plays,” Edelgard said and the whole team fell silent, their chatter fading as their captain challenged the coach again. Petra could tell that the captain was fuming as Hubert stood menacingly behind her. “We barely made a dent.”

“Edelgard,” Byleth didn’t change their tone, “half of our team is brand new to the sport. They are allowed to not be as skilled as you.”

“You barely let me play.”

“We can talk about this personally before practice on Monday,” Byleth said, not letting her speak any further. “I can see that you are frustrated, but you need to have your team in mind, Captain.”

Petra winced. The word itself seemed to issue a challenge and she watched as Edelgard grew quiet, a fire still burning in her eyes.

“Good job everyone,” Byleth addressed the rest of them. “I took notes that we can go over during practice. For now, drive safely home and I have to call Seteth so he knows that I didn’t get his daughter killed.”

Even though the game went nowhere near flawlessly, Petra was excited. She knew that she had improved greatly in a week and that they would be holding their own by the end of the season. The ride home with Edelgard and Hubert was nearly silent, Ferdinand, Caspar, and her not daring to engage them in conversation about the game. It as an uncomfortable trip, both her and Caspar sitting next to each other in the back and even Ferdinand knew better not to attempt a conversation with the girl in the passenger’s seat. Ferdinand let whatever music Hubert put on play without complaint. It was crowded in the back with the two boys, Petra taking up the least amount of room.

“Hey, want to do homework with me, Lin, and Flayn when we get back?” Caspar leaned into her to ask the question. “You’re new here, so I don’t want you to be just going home after school every day with nothing to do.”

The suggestion warmed Petra’s heart. She didn’t mind staying at her host family’s home, but all of the children were older than her. They were fun to hang out with over the summer, but now that school had started, it was nice to make friends closer to her own age. “Yes! You have my gratitude.”

Caspar beamed back at her just as Ferdinand made the grave mistake of asking Hubert to “drive nicer.” Caspar whistled quietly, watching the disaster ensue.

“I will leave you on the side of the highway,” Hubert threatened, before turning the radio up high enough that no one could think. Edelgard sighed and looked out the window, the anger still burning in her.

Petra could only hope that their team would pull together soon, for the sake of all of their hearing.

Chapter Text

Bernie wasn’t used to meeting up with people outside of school. It always proved difficult with her father, but he would be at meetings all day even though it was the weekend, giving her ample time to walk around and get some fresh air without too much worry. Dorothea was going on a date, so she wasn’t sure if she could take advantage of the time as much as she wanted to, but then Caspar had texted her out of the blue:

“Hey Bernie!! I’m free, wanna practice receives? I will be karful”

“*careful”

“:)”

She didn’t know if it would be worth the risk, but she agreed to meet the boy at a park near her house. Bernie would be able to walk there and the chances of her father finding out were slim. It would be terrible if he heard about Caspar, but maybe there would be a bit more leniency if he was a teammate. It was doubtful, but she held the sliver of comfort close to her heart.

The park was nearly empty, save for a couple of parents playing with their kids on the jungle gym. The children kicked mulch at each other, dusty from an entire spring and summer of use. Bernie took a seat on one of the swings, swaying gently as she felt the sun on her face. She had spent the first half of the weekend talking with Coach Byleth over email, making sure there was a way that they could approach the administration without outing Bernie to her father. Dorothea had tried hard in the past, but they could never get very far as long as she was a minor. Bernie didn’t want to get her hopes up, but Byleth seemed set on getting her access to a different bathroom discretely and she was beyond grateful. It was rare to have so much help from someone without having to fully explain the situation.

“Hey Bernie!”

Bernie nearly fell off the swing when Caspar materialized behind her.

“Don’t do that!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Caspar said. He was wearing his usual athletic shirt and shorts, his hair still damp from a shower. He had a volleyball tucked under one arm, smiling at Bernie. If it was anyone else, she would have most likely shrank away, but he looked excited. Even if his excitement could be loud and frightening at times, he always attempted to hold a bit of it back for her. He held up the volleyball. “Let’s get rid of your fear!”

“I don’t think it’s as simple as that.” Bernie laughed, nervously.

“It’s okay, I have plenty of time,” Caspar assured, motioning her off of the wood chips and onto the grassier area of the park. She would mostly see the children using it to run around and play tag or kick around a soccer ball. “We can practice first without the ball!”

“Without the ball?”

“Yeah, like pretend!” Caspar was talking loudly, garnering the attention of the very few people that were present. He dropped the volleyball on the ground, then continued to hold “the ball” in the air. He cradled the air in his hands with precision, to the point that Bernie almost asked if he had managed to make it invisible. “Here’s the ball, I’m going to toss it to you—then you receive it!”

He tossed the invisible ball up into the air towards her, but Bernie made no motion to get it.

“No! It hit the ground!” he yelled, dramatically.

“It feels silly,” Bernie said. She didn’t like drawing attention to herself and this was guaranteed to make people’s heads turn. Two teens playing invisible sports together wasn’t exactly normal. “I don’t know where the ball is.”

“You just need to think about where it would be and pretend that it’s really there,” Caspar assured. “And it is silly, but it will train your muscles to go through the motions without needing to think about it. Then it won’t be so scary when the ball comes near you, because it will just be second nature.”

Bernie doubted it would work so well, but she didn’t dare argue when Caspar sounded so sure in himself. “Okay, toss it to me again.”

“It’s by your feet, you need to throw it back over,” he said with a lopsided grin. It was so ridiculous that Bernie just had to laugh, pretending to pick up the ball and throw it back to the boy. He caught “it” and readied himself to throw it again. “Now, remember how to anticipate the ball, just like Byleth showed you.”

Bernie clasped her hands together tightly, bending her knees like she had seen Edelgard do time and time again. “I’m ready.”

Caspar tossed the invisible ball and when Bernie felt it would have fallen, she thrust her arms upwards. She had a feeling that her own rhythm was off, but Caspar played along. He ran a few steps, jumping up in the air to catch the fake object. “Good! You did it!”

“It’s just invisible.”

“But you still did it,” Caspar insisted, “you hit the ball and didn’t scream or jump away, I’m proud of you.”

“Th-thanks,” Bernie stuttered out, not used to the praise from anyone except Dorothea. Caspar genuinely looked excited for her, even if he was just teasing. His energy was contagious, so she readied herself again. He began to point out how to position her arms and hit the ball so it would go straight up rather than backwards or to the side. She had to admire how he could predict the trajectory of a fake ball just by her stance. There wasn’t even a need for her to demonstrate with the real thing, he explained the angles easily. They got into a rhythm, until Bernie could practically feel the invisible ball hitting her arms—hear it as it bounced into the air.

Caspar began to chat with her. “Where’s Dorothea today?”

“She has a date,” Bernie said, taking a step forward to get a ball that was thrown a bit higher up than the last, anticipating the drop. “I didn’t have anything to do today, thank you for texting.”

“Wait, wait, I thought you were dating her.” Caspar frowned, grabbing in the air for the ball above his head. He furrowed his brows in confusion, which was a cute look on him.

“She’s polyamorous,” Bernie said. “We are dating, but she sees other people. I could, too, if I decided I wanted to.”

“Cool.” Caspar tossed her another ball. “That’s pretty awesome, you two are adorable. Dorothea is already calling me her ‘little brother.’”

“Does she text you?” Bernie asked with a little laugh.

“All the time.”

“She’s very outgoing. I wonder how she came to even want to date me,” Bernie admitted. She was grateful for Dorothea—she couldn’t put into words how much she cared for her—but it was strange to think she wanted to get to know her in the first place. The quiet student who never talked to anyone in class and dodged most social interactions if she could help it.

“She loves you.” Caspar caught the ball this time, putting it down on the ground. “She always talks about you, always says things like ‘me and mine are going to the store.’ It’s sweet.” Caspar looked to Bernie, then picked up the real, physical ball from off the ground. “Here, put your arms out.”

“No, no,” Bernie said with wide eyes, “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Okay, then will you just let me touch the ball to your arms,” Caspar suggested, getting close. She put her arms out and squinted, trying not to completely close her eyes. Caspar took a few steps up to her. He held the ball with both hands, touching it with a bit of force to where Byleth taught her to receive the hit. “See, it’s not too bad?”

Bernie flinched hard, but stood her ground as the ball hit her arms. She looked at Caspar and his face was soft. She took a deep breath, this wasn’t someone who would purposefully hit her. Not someone who would aim to hurt her, especially not in a moment when he was being so kind.

“Try a toss?” Caspar asked. “Trust me, I will throw it right here—” he touched the ball to her arms again, “—it won’t go anywhere else. Your form was good and it’s going to come right back to me.”

“Okay,” Bernie said. She was shaking but she watched as Caspar took a few steps back, tossing the ball gently in her direction. For a frightening moment she thought it was going to go long and hit her in the face, but it was falling in a spot where it would be easy to make a connection. Time seemed to slow, and all she could hear was Caspar’s gentle coaching and the sound of the birds that were flocked in the trees.

In one movement, she received the ball.

It wasn’t in Hubert’s nature to open the front door when the doorbell rang. His father was always ordering something and he sure wasn’t going to be the one to sign it. Edelgard would call before coming over, so he was able to deduce that it wasn’t her.

When the doorbell rang six times in a row, Hubert reluctantly went to a window and caught a glimpse of orange hair. It was sunny and he squinted to double check that it was who he believed it was.

He took a deep breath and opened the door. “What the fuck are you doing, Ferdinand?”

“I thought your doorbell wasn’t working,” Ferdinand said, pushing his stupidly smooth hair out of his face. “Did you not hear it the first few times? It’s so strange.”

“I heard it the whole time,” Hubert said, doing his best to not just slam the door in his teammate’s

face. The real question was, what was Hubert willing to put up with today? “What do you want?”

“I have an assignment from the class you missed.” Ferdinand held up a stapled packet of papers, barely held together by the tiny piece of metal. “Were you ignoring me?”

“Yes, I was ignoring you.” Hubert huffed. “We don’t have any classes together.”

“We do, AP Biology,” Ferdinand said.

Hubert snatched the papers out of his hand, “Hubert von Vestra” written neatly in cursive on the line. “I dropped the class.”

“Oh.” Ferdinand’s face dropped ever so slightly and Hubert almost felt bad for kicking the puppy. Almost. “Well, the teacher told me to deliver the paper.”

“Thanks.”

They both stood on the porch, looking one another over. The unfortunate thing about Ferdinand von Aegir was that he was a wonderful volleyball player. Despite how he held himself and how much he thought he was better than Edelgard—he was skilled in his own right. He showed excellent control on the court and he was able to read Hubert’s sets without much thought. That being said, the last thing Hubert wanted was this man following him around.

“Do you… want to come in?” Hubert asked, knowing that Ferdinand had driven out to his house for nothing. Ferdinand nodded so Hubert stepped inside, letting him follow. The man was cautious at first, but his personality was quickly growing into it’s full potential, filling the empty house. “I made cold brew, would you like a glass?”

“Do you have creamer?”

“Yes,” Hubert said. It was a strange feeling having someone over at his house that wasn’t Edelgard. Having guests was never high on his “to-do” list, even if his parents were rarely home. They were always at the office, practically slaving over Edelgard’s father. He couldn’t say that the tradition didn’t span generations. He had been by Edelgard’s side since he was a child, the only one who had stayed so long. He would just be the next in a long line of von Vestra’s sticking by their side, but he didn’t mind it in the slightest. Edelgard was destined for grand accomplishments.

He took out two glasses, putting a bit of ice in each before getting the cold brew out of the fridge. Pouring them over ice, he added creamer to Ferdinand’s, lightening the color of the coffee. He liked black coffee, himself, but there was always something satisfying about watching the cream spread and branch out through the drink.

“Here.” He passed it to Ferdinand, both of them sitting down at the island. It was silent in the von Vestra home, so he could hear every clink of the ice against glass as Ferdinand used his straw to mix the drink.

“Thank you,” he said after taking a sip. “It’s very good.”

“Even spoiled with cream?”

“I don’t know how you could drink coffee black,” Ferdinand said, motioning to the other’s glass. “Too bitter.”

“Too sweet,” he countered.

“Did Edelgard talk to Coach yet?” Ferdinand asked. “To tell the truth, I should have also been benched. I completely underestimated the opponent.”

“You did,” Hubert said. “I don’t know why they targeted Edelgard.”

His words were a lie. Hubert had watched as his best friend practically tore apart the members of her own team. It would have been fine if it was him, Ferdinand, or Caspar… but she was too tough on the teammates who had never played in their lives. Her frustration was understandable, but for the team’s sake, it was good that Byleth took her out.

Unlike the others in his family, he was willing to put aside his bias and admit that his friend was wrong at times.

“I think we can scrape together some plays,” Ferdinand suggested. “Petra is very athletic, she’ll be a star with a bit more practice. Dorothea was also trying her best… and Flayn had heart.”

“Constance is also a possibility,” Hubert finished, taking a sip of his coffee. The von Nuvelle, like Edelgard, was very ambitious. He knew that she could rise to the occasion if given the chance. He had seen it time and time again whenever they encountered one another at a company party. She had a way of maneuvering into conversations with important people and networking was key when it came to corporate life. “Then there’s Linhardt and Bernie.”

“I don’t think we could get Linhardt to care if we tried.” Ferdinand frowned. “Who knows why he’s even on the team in the first place?”

“He wanted to join,” Hubert said, knowing very well that he had just snatched the kid at random from the bleachers the first day. “Dorothea said Bernie would be fine playing once she warms up to us, but I highly doubt that considering the lungs on that person.” He winced, thinking about the screaming that occurred during the game. Not only had it caused a scene among their own teammates, but he had caught the opponents laughing as well.

“I know you’re friends… but can you try talking to Edelgard?” Ferdinand asked, staring at the cup in front of him. He was wiping the sweat away from the glass. “I want to win and have a good team as much as she… yet it doesn’t sit well with me that she was telling the new players off for trying. You don’t have to, but I guess that’s another reason I came.”

Hubert was silent, hesitant to speak against Edelgard. Ferdinand shifted uneasily on the barstool, more than likely realizing that he shouldn’t have spoken up. “I’m sure the conversation with Coach will be beneficial.”

Even though he didn’t say that he agreed, Ferdinand’s face lit up. “How about the two of us start working with Dorothea and Petra? I think they’re our best bet to rounding out the team a bit more.”

“Dorothea needs to jump higher,” Hubert agreed. “If we could get her in the gym on the boxes every once in a while…”

“She’ll be an amazing spiker,” Ferdinand finished. “Then you have one more person to set up who’s tall enough to make contact. I’m usually in the school weight room after practice twice a week, I would be able to help if she wanted to tag along. It might take some convincing, but—”

“She would be more willing to go if I was also present, I believe,” Hubert said, mentally blocking out his calendar. “We could also invite Constance along, it would spur her into trying harder. And then if we could get Edelgard to work with Petra on diving, we can save a lot more of the rallies and make up for any mistakes in receives.”

“See, now we’re on the same page,” Ferdinand said and smiled, laughing to himself. He held out his hand for a fist bump. “Let’s talk to Coach?”

Hubert absolutely despised his use of “we” and “us,” but his smile was bright and Hubert accepted the fist bump. He didn’t want to admit it, but Ferdinand was more receptive to working individually with the players like he had suggested, only to be shot down by Edelgard. She wanted immediate results, but he could see that Ferdinand was looking at the bigger picture. And unfortunately, Hubert had to agree.

“Bernie also has a soft spot for Caspar,” Ferdinand added, “so as long as we keep her working with him and Dorothea, she’ll be better on the court. Coach Byleth is just going to keep putting her out.”

“They don’t appear to be one to give up,” Hubert said, nearly scoffing at the mentality. There were some battles that weren’t worth fighting, and making Bernie a viable option for a line-up was one of them. Ferdinand was quieter after that, his eyes darting around the kitchen as if looking for something. Hubert didn’t know what he wanted to see, but it wasn’t like he would be unaccustomed to the more expensive wares like others.

The boy scratched his head. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Whatever,” Hubert said, tossing the packet of work into the trash. He didn’t need to be getting comfy with Ferdinand.

Edelgard didn’t exactly know how she ended up in bed with her teammate after two weeks, but she couldn’t say she was complaining as Dorothea lay with her, playing with her hair and chatting as she normally would. The bed felt more comfortable with someone sharing the covers, skin warm against the sheets.

Well, she did know how it happened. Edelgard had been furious over the situation with Byleth. Dorothea had offered to listen. By the end, the bubbly girl was promising she would be able to relax her if she came over… and the rest of the night went more than splendidly. She wasn’t used to such sudden intimacy, but Dorothea was someone who made her feel comfortable. Her touch had been everything she wanted and more, and—as advertised—she felt much more relaxed.

“No frowning,” Dorothea said, the other not even realizing she was making a face as she thought about the coach. “Byleth is going to talk to you tomorrow and it will all work out.” Dorothea kissed her forehead and Edelgard couldn’t help but smile. She was still feeling jittery regardless of their night, and Edelgard wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with her. Dorothea, who was talkative and dramatic, but oh-so gentle when the time called for it… Edelgard could understand not wanting to leave her side.

“I guess,” Edelgard said. She shifted closer on the pillow, kissing Dorothea and tangling their legs together at the ankle. It was playful, Dorothea laughing and pulling her in tight.

“Do you mind if I call Bern quickly to say goodnight?” Dorothea asked, nearly taking Edelgard’s breath away. In the moment, she had forgotten about her companion’s partner. Regardless of Dorothea explaining their open relationship, she felt guilt grow in her stomach… followed quickly by a bite of jealousy.

“It’s fine.”

Dorothea let go of Edelgard and grabbed her phone off of the nightstand, but she was surprised when she went back to cuddling, putting her arm around Edelgard as the ring echoed through her phone. “Bern? Glad you’re still up,” she said with a laugh.

Edelgard didn’t listen to most of the conversation, not wanting to intrude. Then again, Dorothea was confident enough that it wouldn’t be a problem, considering she didn’t leave the room. She looked up to the low lights she had left on, wondering if she should excuse herself.

“Of course, of course.” Dorothea was still smiling, holding her hand even as she talked on the phone. “I will talk to you tomorrow, get some sleep. Love you, Bern.” She hung up, putting her phone face down on the nightstand and turning back to lay with Edelgard. “She said goodnight to you, too.”

“You mentioned me?” Edelgard asked.

“You must have been really zoned out, tired?” Dorothea asked, kissing her again. It lingered on her lips.

“It’s almost as if someone did a really good job tiring me out the last couple hours,” Edelgard said with a light laugh, but then spoke the words on her mind. “You said you loved her.”

“I do.”

“Even though we just…”

“Yes,” Dorothea said with a smile. There was hesitation on the very edges, but she did a good job burying it. She was glowing, a playful gleam in her eye challenging Edelgard to ask more.

“I didn’t know you were polyamorous before,” Edelgard said, still playing with Dorothea’s curls, “when you suggested this, I was very surprised.”

“Well, what I said was mostly a joke,” Dorothea said, a little laugh filling the room. “You seemed interested, however, so why not?”

“Oh…” Edelgard followed her laughter until it hit her. “Wait, what? You mean—”

“I was teasing you, but it worked out, didn’t it?” Dorothea said with a wink as Edelgard hid her face. “Even so. You caught my eye… so I’m very glad that you were just a bit dense.”

“Dorthea…” Edelgard trailed off, but she shook her head. “No use being embarrassed now. I guess… I’m still surprised. You and Bernie seem very close.”

“We are. And we’re committed. It’s not for everyone and it’s okay if it’s not for you, darling,” Dorothea said. She was looking at Edelgard like she was everything and she trembled at the pet name. “You seem curious about our situation and saying I’m interested in you is an understatement. I would love to take you on dates… but do know that I’m here because you’re a fun person to be around. I won’t go anywhere if you say no.”

“Thank you,” Edelgard said. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about Dorothea. The night confirmed how desperate she was to know more about her—to be cooed over by her more than just this one time.

“I wanted to let you know that I’m also interested in Con. In case more than one crush would be a deal breaker.”

Edelgard thought of how the two interacted, always sharing glances and light touches. “I could tell. And… to be honest, I’m not sure.”

It didn’t feel immediately wrong. Everything she had heard about polyamorous relationships up until that point had felt gross—but there was a preconceived bias that every relationship was the same. The way that Dorothea described it? It felt freeing more than anything, and it tempted her.

Dorothea laughed. “If you take my offer up on a date, I want everything to be out there, you know? And even if you turn me down, I still want to talk about how much of a crush I have on our dear Constance.”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in you as well.” Edelgard joined her laughter. She had a feeling that Dorothea had the ability to charm any woman she pleased into falling in love with her. “Hubert and I couldn’t tell if you were a lesbian from your Instagram profile last year.”

“Oh, Edie.” Dorothea giggled and Edelgard felt her cheeks flushing. “You are so adorable.”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Dorothea kissed the tip of her nose, then her lips. “I can’t really be out. My foster parents are religious and I’m nearly eighteen. I’m lucky enough to stay with them even though I’m out of the system, but you just never know.”

“I’m sorry,” Edelgard whispered. She could see how much it troubled Dorothea, even if she was playing it off as no big deal in the moment. A car passed outside, the hum filling the pause. “They sound terrible.”

“The thing is: they’re not. Harold and Mary are the sweetest couple in the world. They never had any children, so they fostered.” Edelgard listened to Dorothea, curling into her as she spoke. She loved her melodious voice and the way her fingers danced on her body. Perhaps the promise to help her relax was sexual, but she had a feeling if Dorothea had just come over to talk, it would have worked all the same. There was safety to be found in her arms. “I don’t even think they would be cruel enough to kick me out for being a lesbian. I just really don’t think they could look past the polyamory, and it weighs on me more than I would like to admit.”

“I’m sorry, this really isn’t a good conversation for pillow talk, is it?” Edelgard asked nervously.

“It’s okay, I want to get to know you,” Dorothea assured. “And now I finally have you right here.”

“My father doesn’t know I’m bi,” Edelgard said, feeling like she at least owed a glimpse into her own situation. “Things have been… strained since my mom left, though, so it’s best not to bring up another thing to worry about. Then my siblings took off—and now it’s just me. I feel like it’s going to turn into a big deal if I tell either of them, it’s not worth it.”

“Perhaps it’s not much, but I’m here for you,” Dorothea promised.

“The same for you.” Edelgard yawned.

“My angel is sleepy.” She kissed the top of her head. Once again the term of endearment flustered her, the sweet tone reaching out. “Get some rest.”

Edelgard adjusted herself in Dorothea’s arms. “A warning: sometimes I get nightmares. They’re…” she wasn’t used to having someone share her bed, “intense. So, I’m sorry.”

“Well, hopefully you will have good dreams tonight,” Dorothea whispered. “If not, it’s nothing that I can’t help you with. Don’t apologize.”

As she drifted off to sleep, listening to Dorothea’s soft breathing, Edelgard knew she would be making a terrible mistake if she didn’t give her feelings for the girl a try. The warmth was too much to pass up, her presence like a beacon shining straight through to her. Anyone with such brightness would be worth an attempt, even if it meant getting out of her comfort zone.

Sleep came peacefully for once, the nightmares held at bay as the world floated around them.

Chapter Text

“New rule,” Byleth said immediately as they entered practice. “Any lewd comments get two laps around the gym—Seteth told me I can’t take money from you. I wanted to make a dollar jar, but running will have to do.”

“Why are you looking at me, Coach?” Dorothea crossed her arms.

“You’re the only one who has proved to be a problem.”

“What I have said on this court is nothing compared to what I have said in the bedr—” Dorothea paused, thoughtful. “See, I stopped myself.”

“Someone is going to be running a lot.” Linhardt whistled. It had only been a week since their first, disastrous match, but his team was already working on their weakest points. Byleth had taken a plethora of notes during the match, using them to structure daily practice. Each person had their individual weaknesses, but then they could easily be grouped by the area of improvement they were required to work on.

Perhaps it was simpler to count the things they were good at, because the list of weaknesses seemed to be never-ending. Linhardt didn’t want to be there, Edelgard was too pushy, Hubert was terrifying, Caspar was loud, Ferdinand was Ferdinand, Petra was still learning volleyball, Dorothea had her brain elsewhere, Flayn wasn’t very athletic, Bernie was terrified of the ball, and he wasn’t sure if Constance understood the rules.

They truly made a wonderful, non-functioning team.

“Linhardt, you have to participate today” was the next point on Coach’s list.

He yawned at the thought. “I had an exhausting day at school, Coach, I’m not sure if that is a possibility.”

“You slept through sixth period English,” Caspar pointed out. “That was an hour nap.”

“More than an hour is needed,” Linhardt was honestly quite tired of his teammates expecting things from him, they should have just been happy that they had enough players to even have a team in the first place. It was never his idea to sign up, so they would have to take it up with Hubert if they didn’t like how he played the game. “All I’m saying is you should respect my energy levels.”

“You will participate,” Byleth repeated. “If I do not see an improvement in your willingness to do so, we will start having weight room days.” Most of the team groaned at the thought of having to share the weight room with the football players. It seemed like a cruel punishment, Linhardt had to admit. Ferdinand looked like he was going to raise his hand, but Hubert swatted it out of the air before he could say anything. “Final announcement before we start practice: our next game is the following Friday.”

“Tomorrow?” Ferdinand asked.

“Next Friday.”

Byleth got them started on drills, pairing up Linhardt with the ever-screaming Caspar, Dorothea “Coach, I think this is homophobic” Arnault, and Bernie, who was still genuinely terrified of the ball. They were still working on receiving serves, which Coach put Caspar in charge of. As a defensive specialist, he was the best help they could get apart from Edelgard.

Linhardt was surprised when Bernie got one or two hits in with a minimal amount of screaming. Caspar cheered for her, but it looked like she was only willing to receive the ball if he was the one who tossed it. Linhardt, himself, could still barely get the ball into the air, the ball rolling off of his arms and hitting the floor each time.

“Lin, I think you have to try a bit harder, just apply upward pressure,” Dorothea said, making the motion with her arms. “Your arms look like noodles. If we end up in the gym surrounded by the football team… I don’t think I would ever forgive you.”

“It comes in too hard,” Linhardt whined.

“I, for one, know how to deal with hard things—”

“Dorothea, two laps,” Byleth commanded, sniping her comment from across the gym.

“You weren’t kidding about that?” Dorothea looked confused, not used to consequences for her actions.

“Get running.”

“O-kay,” Caspar said, turning back to Linhardt as Dorothea reluctantly began her laps. “Would it help if we try to do this a bit in motion? I know you’re not a fan of… anything… but volleyball can be really fun if you just try just a bit.”

“Oh, I’m a fan of plenty things.” Linhardt waved him off. “Just because it’s not something you deem useful doesn’t mean I don’t have hobbies.”

“Napping is a bit of a boring hobby,” Bernie squeaked out.

“I do more than sleep.”

“C’mon, let’s set up the drill.” Coach came over. They were wearing an NHL t-shirt, tapping the clipboard against their hand. Linhardt wasn’t sure if they would actually hit him with it, but he didn’t want to test the coach. “I really thought you four would be less of a troublesome group.” They nodded their head in the direction of Edelgard, Constance, and Ferdinand arguing over something, but even then they were still getting the drill done. It was truly remarkable, Linhardt thought. “Do you have a drill, Caspar?”

“Yeah,” the boy said, perking up that the coach was asking him for help. So Caspar set them up in a drill. One person would toss the ball into play, it would be received by the second player, then the third would try to get it over the net. When the play was done, they would switch places. Dorothea joined halfway through the explanation, watching as the three of them ran through the drill before she could join.

“Makes sense? Take it from the top.” Coach clapped their hands together.

“I don’t even have the ball—” Dorothea said, before realizing the words that came out of her mouth, “—I am going to go run now.”

“Yes, you are,” Coach confirmed. Linhardt sighed at the thought of running when Coach looked at him. “If I don’t see an effort from you, you will be running with her.”

Linhardt watched as Dorothea worked on her third lap of the day, somehow managing to get Ferdinand to say his full name once more as she went by. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged around the gym in circles by her, so he looked to the drill. “I’ll toss the ball first.”

“Okay!” Caspar yelled, making him wince. “Toss it to me!”

Linhardt threw the ball into the air, watching as Caspar adjusted himself, bending his knees and sending the ball straight upwards. Bernie looked like for a fleeting moment she was going to try to touch the ball, but she shied away at the last moment and it hit the gym floor.

“We can work on it,” Byleth said. “Bernie, you don’t have to spike it if you don’t want to, but we have to try to get it over the net. It’s the same as receiving, but you want to angle your arms like this and push the momentum forward.” They demonstrated, holding their arms out. “Dorothea, welcome back.”

“A pleasure,” she said, slightly out of breath this time. “Where do I come in?”

“You’re going to toss,” Byleth said, waiting expectantly for a comment.

“I’m just going to play quietly so I can’t mess up,” Dorothea said, winking. “I also thought of about three jokes that could go with that, but I kept them to myself, are you proud of me?”

“Of course,” Coach said, clearly unimpressed. “I’ll leave it to Caspar.”

The drill took a bit to get into, but Linhardt found it easy once he figured out he was tall enough to simply hit the ball over the net without much effort. Caspar and Bernie would have to jump high into the air for a spike and even Dorothea would need to leap to push the ball over the net—but he could simply raise up onto his toes and hit the ball at the other end of the court. Even better, this seemed to please the coach and get them off of his back.

Linhardt didn’t even notice that with hitting the ball over the net, he had become one of the top three spikers on the team. Lovely.

“Linhardt!” Coach called out, ushering him out of the drill and to their side. “Good work.”

“I don’t like that you’re praising me.”

“Good, so you do know what’s next,” Byleth said. “Your form needs a lot of adjustments, but you have good sense when it comes to hitting the ball.”

“And, let me guess, I’m tall?”

“You are also tall. Starting next practice you will be working with Ferdinand and Hubert to hone in your skills.” Byleth circled his name on their clipboard.

“While they fuck each other with their eyes? No thank you, I’ll have to pass.” Linhardt shook his hair out of his ponytail.

“Uh oh,” Dorothea chimed. “That is definitely a lap, right Coach? Am I right?”

Byleth frowned. “Linhardt. Dorothea. Both of you—another two laps let’s go.”

“Flayn,” Hubert said after she had done her best to keep the ball up in the rally, accidentally letting it bounce off into the bleachers, “you’re not anticipating where the ball is going to land.”

“Anticipating?”

“You’re standing too stiff while the ball is dropping,” Hubert continued. “Bend your knees and stay a bit lighter on your feet—you’ll be able to get to where it falls faster.”

“Dorothea has been running for long,” Petra pointed out, their friend taking yet another lap around the court as Byleth looked increasingly disappointed with her. Surprisingly, Linhardt was following at a much more reluctant pace. “Why is she doing so many runs?”

“She’s only running because she’s—” Hubert looked like he had several things to say about his teammate, but he swallowed the words. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s run through the drill one more time, Freshmen.”

Flayn wasn’t sure what to think of the man. Even several weeks into the season, he still didn’t look like a volleyball player in the slightest. He captured the image of a stereotypical goth teen in the movies who would be found selling weed in the bathroom. Edelgard and Ferdinand looked like jocks for sure, but Hubert always stood out in their line up. Even so, despite his harshness while correcting them, she could tell that Hubert was doing his best to help them improve. It was much more than their captain was doing, considering that Edelgard was only working closely with those she thought had potential. Hubert, Ferdinand, and Caspar seemed more willing to help the team as a whole, rather than the stand-out players.

They ran through the drill—Flayn receiving the ball, Hubert setting it, and then giving a chance for Petra to attempt a spike. Petra was getting better at jumping, but even so, her work with Edelgard that week at practice had been much more beneficial. She was learning how to dive for the ball, throwing herself onto the court as a last-ditch effort to get the ball lifted into the air. Both her and Edelgard had bruises after a week of practice, but the coach seemed confident in Petra’s abilities. Flayn knew if she came home bearing the same marks, her father would have her pulled immediately from the team.

With the two girls on the court it would be much easier to save the rallies that they had let drop throughout the entire first match. Flayn was looking forward to the next game. While not everyone had improved, she was positive they could make a much better impression on the opponents the more professional they looked.

“Much better,” Hubert said after they had gotten the ball over. Petra gave her a high five and she nearly leapt in joy. “I want to show both of you what to do if you’re the third hit on the ball. Without the option to set, it becomes imperative to get the ball over the net.”

Flayn nearly tripped when she got back to the line for the drill, Petra laughing. “Have caution.”

“Thank you,” Flayn said.

“You are not allowed to get hurt,” Hubert said, “I wouldn’t want to have harm come to your father.”

“I have belief that you would be harmed,” Petra responded.

Hubert laughed and Flayn winced. “Hopefully we won’t have to find out.”

“Wait… are you saying that you would fight my father?!” Flayn gasped.

“It would hardly be a fair fight, so I would spare hi—”

“Cut that out,” Byleth said as they did their rounds between groups. “Hubert, can I not put you with the freshmen?”

“The children are fine, look at them.” He motioned. Flayn pouted at being called a child, but she kept her head held high. “Thriving.”

“If Flayn gets hurt, I’m the first one out of a job,” Byleth pointed out, tapping their clipboard, “and I want her on my hockey team, so don’t get her injured.”

“Compelling.”

“And field hockey!” Flayn reminded.

“Of course, I have plans to send you to the Olympics at this point.” Even though their tone was still flat, Flayn recognized the joke by the ghost of a smile on their face. Byleth turned to her. “Okay, Flayn. I noticed when you were playing that you seemed to be making contact strangely. What’s your dominant hand?”

“I’m polyambidextrous,” Dorothea announced from across the courts, sending a ripple of groans from her team members. “Shut up, that one was funny.”

“One lap,” Byleth urged.

“That’s just homophobic, Coach. There’s nothing inherently sexual about being—”

“Lap for the pun, not for a lewd comment,” Byleth cut her off. Flayn was glad to see the smile once more, small, but visible. They had been so upset by their hockey career being stolen from them, but it was good to see some of their banter and enjoyment come as they were coaching.

“Dorothea is on the run again,” Petra observed. “Coach, why is she running?”

“You don’t want to know, too young.” Byleth frowned at their clipboard. “What was I doing?”

“I was hitting the ball strangely,” Flayn said.

“Right,” Byleth said. “So, which hand do you write with?” An argument erupted, Ferdinand and Edelgard borderline yelling at one another. “Ferdinand, over here,” Coach said, snapping their fingers like they were calling a dog. The boy tried to argue, but Byleth shook their head. “None of that. Over here, now. Petra, please go with Edelgard and Constance.”

“Don’t put him with me,” Hubert said, also hushed by Byleth.

“Flayn, Hubert! We are having a team sleep—”

“No,” Hubert said.

“Would you be quiet? I want to hear!” Flayn urged. Hubert looked incredulous that she had talked back to him, but let Ferdinand talk. “What was that?”

“This weekend, I want to have a team sleepover at my house! We could use it as a type of team bonding.” Ferdinand was beaming, clearly proud of his idea. “Of course, I would be the wonderful host and—”

“I can talk to your father about it,” Byleth assured, letting Ferdinand continue his long ramble about how wonderful his house was and how they would have the veritable time of their lives sleeping there. “He’s not going to let you go with all the boys.”

“I wish he would leave me be,” Flayn said, doing her best not to pout. She loved her father, but sometimes he could get too overprotective. Well, it was more than “could,” but she had gotten onto a sports team and that was a first. He even let her hang out with the others after school, so she prayed that she would be allowed to participate in the team bonding. The only friends her age she ever had were those that she had met through church… it meant the world that she was getting know others now that she was in public school. Even though the only reason she was allowed to attend in the first place was because he worked there, it was the first step to finally gaining independence.

“Enough talking,” Byleth finally cut Ferdinand off while he was in the middle of detailing how many different video games he had for them to play. “Boys, you’ve been doing a good job at teaching the new players, don’t think that your effort has gone unnoticed.” They messed with Flayn’s hair. “And you are improving so quickly, be proud. I need to talk to some of the other players, but keep it up.”

Flayn beamed as her cousin walked away, glad to be making improvements. “See? I’ve been doing better!”

“You have,” Ferdinand said. “Thankfully you will be here to carry on the team after the rest of us graduate!”

“Oh,” Flayn said, looking around the gym at some of the players. Ferdinand, Hubert, Edelgard, Constance, and Dorothea… come spring they would all be graduating and moving onto college or work. “I had forgotten that so many of you won’t be here next year.”

“You almost sound sad,” Hubert pointed out. “There should be enough interest to continue building the team as long as you advertise to the incoming freshmen. Who knows, maybe the younger girls from Edelgard’s old team will decide it’s time to join again.”

“Why are you telling me these things?” Flayn asked, curious. Hubert and Ferdinand had gotten more serious about the team after the first game.

“Because the likely captain will be—” Ferdinand was cut off by their loudest player.

“Yeah! Let’s give it up for Bernie! That was perfect!” Caspar’s voice echoed across the gym, Linhardt bringing his hands up to cover his ears as if it would actually work as a barrier.

“He will need someone to do the thinking,” Ferdinand said. “Much like how although I’m not the captain or co-captain, I’m still the brains of this team.”

“Have you tried stand-up comedy, Ferdinand?” Hubert asked. “Or shutting up?”

Even Flayn laughed as the redhead pouted at the words and was about to respond when they all spotted Byleth watching them from across the court, about to tell them off for not practicing. “Shall we continue?” she asked, holding up the ball.

“One day,” Byleth said to themself with a sigh, watching as Ferdinand picked up the ball from the ground and departed from the other two in order to actually practice. They likened it to wrangling cats, but even kittens would be easier than the over-the-top teenagers they had been put in charge of.

Byleth looked at their clipboard with their directions from Seteth. They had received a list of students that they had to talk to as coach. Apparently, the children’s life decisions were also in their hands because of the position… the last line of defense after the guidance counselors weren’t able to talk sense into them. Byleth wasn’t sure how to talk to them about these kinds of things, but they had no choice. Reluctantly, they called Dorothea over.

“I have learned my lesson, I am trying,” Dorothea said with a smile as she came over to the bleachers. “These things just naturally roll off of my tongue.”

“While it is very entertaining to make you run, you do need to be a bit more careful,” Byleth said with a sigh. “I know that you are among friends, but you risk making people uncomfortable and pushing boundaries.”

Dorothea gave a thumbs up. “I will be more careful.”

“Thank you. I actually wanted to talk to you about college.” They watched as Dorothea’s face grew dark, something they never believed would cross her countenance. “Your guidance counselor asked for me to speak to you—”

“It doesn’t concern you,” their player said, with a shocking amount of strength behind her words. “I understand that you’re only doing this because someone told you to, but I’m more than capable of making my own decision.”

“Unfortunately, I do not have much of a choice. She told me that you refused to submit a decision plan—” to tell the truth, it went even deeper than that, she had also declined to speak to three of her teachers “—I looked at your grades and they are very good. Even if there are financial problems, please apply to county. The chances of getting the aid you need are very high, I wouldn’t be surprised if you received a full scholarship.” Byleth felt uncomfortable prying into Dorothea like this, but the administration had made it clear that there didn’t seem to be anything else stopping her. They were hoping that her coach could make a difference, but Byleth could already see that they held no favor in Dorothea’s eyes. “You’re a smart girl.”

“Look,” Dorothea said, crossing her arms. Byleth felt their body bristle. “If you must know, I’m in the foster system. I turn eighteen this month and after that, I’m out. My current foster parents have been offering to help me with college expenses, but I’m not out to them. I have a sinking feeling that I can never come out to them, but I’m also not going to lie to them for the next four years for my benefit.”

Byleth sighed. They felt bad for bringing it up, but they hoped it was worth a shot. Even though Dorothea was always open and proud around her team, Byleth had noticed that there was always a slight hesitation. Regret and worry hanging on her otherwise light-hearted jokes.

“I don’t want to impose myself on you. I am here to talk if you need it and I can help you navigate the financial things if you change your mind.”

“Thank you,” Dorothea said, but her body language didn’t change. Byleth was used to upsetting people for various reasons, mostly involving their lack of desire to share things about themself, but it wasn’t right to make Dorothea hurt more than she was. Byleth looked awkwardly down at their list. Pushing Dorothea wouldn’t help, but it was also a shame that she wouldn’t ask others to assist her. She was always so strong for her friends, Byleth didn’t need to know her for a long time to see how she could bring together various members of their team.

“I take it I shouldn’t have the college conversation with Constance either?” Byleth referenced their paper. Constance von Nuvelle was another one of the seniors that refused to talk about her graduation plans or submit any indication that she was applying.

“She does not have the money,” Dorothea said. “I don’t care if it’s required of you. I will quit this team if you try to give Con false hope.”

“Noted,” Byleth said, signing the form to say that they had the conversation with both of the team members. Lying would be worth not upsetting either of them any further than they already had. “Constance, too—I am always open to listen.”

“That’s sweet,” Dorothea said, but it sounded more like a threat than a compliment.

“Edelgard’s attitude has changed for the better, thank you,” Byleth added, hoping to at least end the conversation off on a positive note. “You talked to her, I can tell. You have a way with words.”

“That is what most women say.” Dorothea clicked her tongue, a bit of her usual attitude coming back. Byleth thanked whoever was watching above that they didn’t break her. They didn’t even send her on a lap for the jab. “No hard feelings, but I need some space.”

“That is fair,” Byleth assured, “my offer always stands.”

Byleth let Dorothea rejoin her other teammates before they called for a practice match to begin. They split the kids into two opposing sides and promised that they would serve as ref. They took a deep breath, attempting to steady themself. It was a strange feeling, wanting to protect all ten members of their team. Usually it would take months if not years for them to get to know others, but seeing each of the teenagers every day and helping them learn the game… it really did feel like they were picking up on all their personalities very easily.

It was more terrifying than they would have liked to admit that they were this attached. It would just be this one season, then Ferdinand, Hubert, Constance, Edelgard, and Dorothea would already be gone. Even when Edelgard had been pissed at them, they had come to a deeper understanding of one another by the end of the conversation. Byleth felt like they had truly gotten closer to her after that and they were proud of her for putting her pride aside.

They knew too well how it was so easy to lose everything. They went out on the ice one night, after all, not even knowing that it would be the last time that they would play hockey. Perhaps volleyball didn’t hold the same prestige as their hockey career, but they had played it all through high school, as well. They hated not being able to hit the ball, not being able to play alongside the teammates that were slowly becoming a constant in their life. Even so, they still felt like they were part of something, no matter how slight of a lasting effect they would have on the players. It had been their dad’s idea to become a coach, but now they didn’t regret having their entire year of work lined up with coaching for the high school.

“Petra!” Edelgard called out as she dove for the ball, the freshman sliding onto the court and getting the ball back up into the air. Edelgard set it and Constance (although it wasn’t a spike) got it right over the net. They were told that Edelgard was using some of her free time to help the younger player learn how to better play the court, and it was paying off, even less than a week later there was dramatic improvement. Byleth smiled to themself, clapping their hands.

“Nice teamwork!” they called out.

It was strange being on the coaching end of the sport. There was so much planning, and one word too many or too less could send a player spiraling. They had seen it with Edelgard the first game, watching the anger rise in the proud girl as she sat out on the bleachers. It didn’t feel good to bench her, but Byleth knew it was the best option at the time. The looks they had gotten from both Edelgard and Hubert had been scalding. Then, they sent Bernie onto the court screaming, which didn’t do wonders for team moral.

“Hey, Edelgard!” they called out. “Good form and support. Keep this up and you’re going to kill it.”

And as Edelgard smiled at them, the blush staining her cheeks ever-so-slightly, they knew that it was worth it to get these kids to their best potential, even if it meant the work and fears that came with it. Sure, Byleth would need to adjust. It was a difficult idea to become accustomed to, but at the end of the day—whether they thought they were fit for it or not—they were now in charge of helping to shape these children. And they would do the best job that they could.

Chapter Text

“I will be picking her up at nine p.m., she is not to be left alone in a room with any of the boys and—”

“Father!”

“Flayn will be under my protection!” Petra assured, standing next to Ferdinand as he waited in the foyer, Seteth scrutinizing where his darling Flayn would be spending the next six hours, perhaps eight if they were to get the deadline on the sleepover extended. Ferdinand usually had no reason to feel self conscious about his home (it was splendid), but he suddenly felt like he was part of a wellness check. “You will have not worries.”

“Dorothea will be arriving soon,” Ferdinand added. “She won’t allow anyone near your daughter.”

“Call me if something goes wrong.”

“I know, you gave me your number,” Ferdinand said.

“Okay, Flayn, have fun.” Seteth seemed satisfied enough with the situation, although he muttered, “I must have made some grave mistake,” as he walked out the door.

“I am so embarrassed by his behavior!” Flayn said as soon as the door closed behind him. “First, he will not allow me to sleepover and he continues to baby me.”

“Coach Byleth had to forge a document for a team field trip to get Bernie out of the house for the weekend, it’s okay,” Ferdinand assured, feeling sorry for the girl. It was never a good feeling to be kept from gaining independence, especially when most of her friends were older. Some of Seteth’s behavior seemed warranted, but most of the time it went above and beyond what could be considered necessary. “We won’t tell the others about it.”

Flayn thanked him and Petra. They were about to head downstairs when there was insistent knocking at the door. He held his breath, hoping it wasn’t Seteth back for a lecture, but instead his teammate greeted him.

“Ferdie!” Dorothea cheered, several bags flung over her shoulders. “Oh my god I got an undercut, feel it.”

He was basically stormed by his teammate, who flipped her head over to reveal she had indeed shaved half of the thick hair off. Constance was behind her, laughing at her antics.

“It looks splendid,” he said.

“No, feel it.”

Ferdinand couldn’t tell if it was a joke, but he ran his fingers over the shaved part a few times, relishing the feeling of the buzzed hair. Although he liked Dorothea, she always seemed to be teasing him. She also for some reason could never remember his full name (he was Ferdinand von Aegir) and she also seemed to be cheating on her partner with their very own captain.

He didn’t know how to deal with the last point yet. He didn’t want to upset Bernie, but he also felt like it was his duty to tell her that he saw Dorothea kissing Edelgard after classes. Ferdinand would figure out a way to bring it up without causing too much trouble. It was strange, though, Dorothea didn’t seem like the cheating type. She was always so kind to Bernie and watched after her both on the court and off.

“Dorothea, please allow us to step fully inside and close the door,” Constance urged, rubbing at her arms. She was without a bag and Ferdinand assumed that her friend was carrying it. Dorothea flipped her hair back over, laughing. “Apologies for our delay,” Constance continued, “it took my friend longer than he thought to dye my hair.”

“Your hair is dyed?” Ferdinand asked.

“No, the purple is natural.” Dorothea laughed, closing the door behind them. “Con was born with blonde hair and the back of it has always been purple and it has nothing to do with Yurikins and the salon he runs out of his basement.”

“Huh?” Ferdinand frowned.

“Dorothea is having a joke,” Petra said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Hair does not grow rainbow.”

“Awh, Ferdie, this is going to be so much fun.” Dorothea put her hand on his other shoulder, Ferdinand flushing over the closeness. “I’m so glad that you live in a house that could pay for three of my college tuitions.”

That comment in particular seemed pointed, so Ferdinand let it be and showed the girls where everyone was going to be hanging out for the majority of the sleepover. The stairs to the finished basement were right off of the kitchen, easy enough to get to. He had several extra mattresses for an influx of guests and there was something less-appealing about everyone having their own guest room (he could nearly accomplish the feat if some people were willing to share). It didn’t seem like the proper high school experience, so he had just gotten the piles of sheets and blankets and brought them downstairs into one of the recreational rooms. There was a TV so they could watch movies, along with video game systems. In the end, he was satisfied with the results—even having a refreshments table on one side of the room.

“Guys, feel my undercut!” Dorothea ran past Ferdinand, practically throwing herself into Caspar’s lap as he tried to play Mario Kart against Bernie and Hubert. Bernie was kicking both of the boys’ asses as Caspar spiraled into last place with Dorothea’s distraction.

“What are you? A cat?!” he yelled, trying to slide away from Dorothea while still having his eyes “on the road.”

“It suits you well, Dorothea,” Edelgard said, getting closer and gently tickling the back of Dorothea’s head with the tips of her fingernails. Ferdinand had been surprised when Edelgard didn’t show up in heels (the business casual she wore for school was particularly strange at times—not like him or Hubert didn’t also dress cleanly, but Edelgard dressed for an office job). Her weekend attire was much more in line with what she wore to practice. “How does it look up? I was considering cutting my own hair, but it seems kind of risky.”

“I’m losing because of you, Dorothea!” Caspar continued to complain, trying to shake her off.

“Shut up,” Dorothea said, before turning to Edelgard. “Oh, Edie, please do it! It would be so attractive.”

Ferdinand looked incredulously between Dorothea, Edelgard, and Bernie, but none of them appeared to be bothered by the comment. Perhaps it was okay, it was just Dorothea’s usual flirtatious comments, was it not? Bernie reached over and also played with her girlfriend’s hair, Dorothea beaming.

“Is something troubling you, Ferdinand?” Hubert asked, turning as he finished the final lap on the screen. “You look like something tragic has occurred.”

“It is nothing,” Ferdinand assured. “I have my phone, can we start trying to get a pizza order together.”

“I had not seen you there,” Petra said, nearly sitting on Linhardt, who was curled up on the coach and half buried under several jackets that were flung there almost as unceremoniously as Linhardt himself. “Are you hiding?”

“Sleeping,” Linhardt said. Ferdinand had been surprised to even get the sophomore to come to a sleepover, though perhaps his favorite pastime was present in the name. It was more fitting then he originally believed it to be.

“Dorothea, do you want to try?” Bernie asked, passing her controller to her girlfriend. “I-I think Caspar is going to kill me if I beat him again.”

“I would never,” he assured, before turning to Dorothea. “You made me lose! You’re going down!”

“Okay, Cas.” She laughed, taking up the controller. “Unlike you I can actually drive, so we’ll see.” She winked.

“Ferdinand,” Hubert said, pushing the controller into his hands as Caspar defended his nearly nonexistent driving skills, “you can take my spot.”

“I can get out another controller, Flayn can take this one.” He passed it off to the girl, whose face lit up. He crawled forward, opening up the drawer and grabbing one of the other joycons for the Switch. “And for Petra.”

“I will be driving?” she asked.

“I can show you!” Bernie volunteered, joining where Petra was on the couch, now crowding Linhardt in his little nest. Constance took a seat next to Edelgard, the captain smiling as she showed off her new hair. Hubert sat close to him, their thighs occasionally brushing up against one another. He was tempted to rest his head on his shoulder, much like Dorothea was doing to all of her friends, but something told him that it would only end in disaster.

Ferdinand found himself with a pleasant expression on his face as well, it was nice. He felt like he had done something to get the ragtag group of players to interact off the courts. It took them a half an hour debate to get pizza ordered, which resulted in enough pies to feed a small country instead of a volleyball team, but it wasn’t going on Ferdinand’s personal card anyway.

The night went by quickly, most of it passing in rounds of Mario Kart and Smash Brothers. The team also let Ferdinand show them his Animal Crossing island, which he had been working hard on since it came out. Bernie promised to play with him and they even convinced Linhardt to share his friend code in between his naps. It was a pleasant night, especially as everyone relaxed. It felt less like “team bonding” and more like just friends hanging out with one another.

Ferdinand had gone upstairs many hours later to get ready for bed, noticing that there was someone in the kitchen on the way back to the basement. His friends were allowed to explore his house as they pleased as long as they stayed away from the bar—he didn’t want to risk drunken shenanigans with such young team members. It would be a bad influence on the freshmen, although he did invite Dorothea to come over at another time.

He could see that it was Bernie in the kitchen, her purple hair hard to make out in the uplighting of the cabinets.

“Midnight coffee run?” Ferdinand asked, effectively making Bernie scream and nearly drop the glass she was holding, spinning around to face him.

“No, just water,” Bernie whispered, panicked. “And it’s not midnight yet, is it?”

Ferdinand looked over to the display on the clock, it was already ten minutes to one in the morning. Everyone was awake save Linhardt and Constance, both of whom had fallen asleep early. Flayn had already been picked up—they were unfortunately unable to convince Seteth to let her stay past her curfew. He was surprised to see that Bernie had ventured to the kitchen without Dorothea, but he knew that this would be his time if any to check. “It’s almost one already. The night really flew by.”

“It did,” Bernie said, looking like she was trying to find a way to escape the room. Petra had called her prey one of the first times that they played together and it was easy to see the resemblance. Ferdinand hadn’t meant to corner the person.

“This might be inappropriate of me to ask, but are you and Dorothea still together?” he finally said, watching as Bernie jumped at his words. He felt bad; they must have had a terrible break up for her to be this upset—

“Yes?” Bernie said, furrowing her brows. It was difficult to make out the rest of her expression in the dim lighting of the kitchen. “I-I’m not… really interested in you, Ferdinand.”

“No, no!” Ferdinand’s eyes widened, feeling his face flush at his accidental implications. “That’s not what I meant! It’s just that—” he cleared his throat before speaking as gentle as he could, “I think Dorothea is cheating on you… I just wanted you to know.”

He was ready to comfort her, but she just nodded slowly. “She is also dating Edelgard… so she’s not cheating… b-because I know about it.”

“Oh, she’s…” Ferdinand trailed off. “She’s what?”

“And with that Ferdie, you have corned my partner in the kitchen.” Dorothea showed up at the top of the stairs, crossing the room to stand by Bernie. “Sweet of you to think I would cheat, I really though we had some sort of trust by now.”

“It was not my intention to doubt you.” Ferdinand huffed. He didn’t understand why Dorothea was taking his words so personally. “I was just looking out for Bernie.”

“I thank you for that,” she said, “but you also don’t listen, Ferdie. You really thought you could play the hero on this one.”

“That was also not what my plans were,” he assured. “I’m sorry, Dorothea.”

She looked genuinely surprised at his apology, which hurt. He didn’t understand why so many of his teammates seemed to believe he was incapable of owning up to his mistakes.

“I think I got a little frustrated, it’s late.” Dorothea backed down. “Thank you for watching out for my partner, but it’s an open relationship.”

“I see,” he said. “No hard feelings? I’ll let you pick the movie next time.”

Dorothea smiled. “I hope your ready to watch ‘But I’m a Cheerleader.’”

“I have never heard of it.”

“I know and that’s the biggest misfortune,” Dorothea said, taking Bernie’s hand. “Let’s head back downstairs?”

Ferdinand exhaled, glad that he hadn’t accidentally ruined his relationship with nearly half of the volleyball team. Dorothea brushed his hair from his eyes as they made their way down the stairs, so he assumed that all was forgiven. He still didn’t quite understand what was happening between the three of them, but maybe Hubert would be willing to explain it to him if he asked kindly. Of course, there was also a big chance that he would just roll his eyes and ignore him, but it would be better than any reaction Edelgard would give him.

After dragging Ferdinand back down the stairs with Bernie in tow, Dorothea decided that it was time to get everyone to bed. Well, maybe not getting everyone to bed, but she was exhausted from the confrontation. It had drained her. She didn’t understand why Ferdinand’s reaction had been so off-putting. She was used to people just shrugging off her flirtatious behavior, but it left a sour taste in her mouth that others were under the impression that she was cheating. Dorothea knew in theory that people would be quick to assume, but it still stung in a way that she couldn’t control.

“Are you okay?” Bernie asked after Ferdinand had gone back to the others. Dorothea stopped at the bottom of the stairs, not going into the room just yet. “I think he was just looking after me as he said. Not everyone understands the situation s-so it makes it difficult.”

Dorothea looked at her and the nervous jitter in her words, wanting to reach out and ask am I hurting you? It felt like the only question she could manage at the moment and that terrified her. In a way, she didn’t want to know Bernie’s answer.

“Dorothea,” Bernie said, “I’m grateful for you and you’re the best girlfriend I could ask for. Someone who puts up with me… I couldn’t ask for anything better.”

“And you’re an amazing partner,” Dorothea assured, kissing her cheek and ruffling her hair. “It’s just… I don’t know how to put it into words? It makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

“You aren’t.” There was laughter from the other room, which startled Bernie. “It’s not your job to assure that everyone knows the kind of relationships you are in.”

“I know.”

Bernie gave her one more hug before they returned to the room. Despite all his bragging, Dorothea did have to admit that Ferdinand did a good job hosting them. All the extra mattresses, pillows, and blankets made the room comfortable, and there was enough space for all of them to fit without crowding one another. Everyone was beginning to get under the covers, Hubert turning off the TV for the night. Whether or not he wanted to, he had been acting like a co-host for the entirety of the party.

 Constance was already passed out on one of the mattresses, so Dorothea ruffled her hair and kissed the top of her head. She always loved seeing the peaceful expression on her friend’s face as she slept. She looked so free of worry—it was what she deserved. The back of her neck was stained slightly purple from the new dye.

“I can take this couch,” Bernie offered as they started settling down. It wasn’t surprising, Bernie was already not super keen on sharing a bed with others, but especially not if all of her teammates were there to watch.

Edelgard glanced at Dorothea, patting the mattress she had already claimed as an invitation. Ferdinand watched carefully, but knew better and kept his mouth shut this time. Dorothea kissed Bernie goodnight before retreating to the warmth of Edelgard’s arms.

Ferdinand was already halfway tucked in when Hubert said, “Get the lights, Ferdinand.”

He sighed as if he were aggravated, fighting the blankets off to venture back to the switches. He tripped over Caspar on the way back, their teammate yelling at him and pushing him back. Edelgard laughed next to her, pulling her close and placing a kiss on her lips. She was small and flushed easily against her own skin.

Dorothea tried to let the outside pressures fade away as she listened to Edelgard’s breathing. It had been the best thing she could do for herself… admit that she was polyamorous. Her mind attempted to wander back to telling her foster parents, but she ripped it further away, back to the present. She hated knowing how conditional love could be. Her birthday was soon and then what? She would be eighteen with nowhere to go the second she let them know who she truly had been the whole time.

“You’re tense,” Edelgard whispered, soft enough that the rest of their teammates wouldn’t hear. “Just relax, Thea.”

Dorothea nodded, doing her best to let go of the tension in her shoulders. She had two partners that were willing to protect and comfort her. She just had to let misunderstandings go.

Sleep eventually took over, Edelgard protecting her from the perceptions of others. She didn’t believe she had many dreams, but then again she was torn out of the darkness long before the sun could rise.

Dorothea was jolted awake by a short shriek from Edelgard and blankets being thrashed against her.

“Hey, hey,” she instinctively said, putting her arms around the woman she had been sharing a mattress with. Edelgard was shaking and fighting to get out of her grasp. “Edie, are you okay?”

Edelgard didn’t respond, her breathing quick and heavy, a small whine reaching her lips as she buried her face into Dorothea’s chest. She remembered the warning Edelgard had given her the first night they had shared a bed, the texts that she had sent in the mornings about not getting much sleep. Nightmares. They were something that haunted her often, although she usually dealt with them alone.

“Edie, it’s okay, nothing can hurt you,” she urged, but her breathing didn’t improve. Dorothea looked around the room, several of their teammates sitting up from where they were stationed on mattresses and couches. Constance in particular looked like she was going to reach out and attempt to help, but Dorothea shook her head. The last thing she wanted was for Edelgard to feel their eyes on her, so she whispered. “Do you want to get some water with me? I can help you.”

She nodded and Dorothea untangled them from the sheets, basically lifting her girlfriend to her feet. Dorothea waved off Ferdinand, doing her best not to make the biggest scene. She didn’t want the other teammates to hound Edelgard, even though for the most part they all just looked concerned by her flailing and screaming. She didn’t want them to unintentionally hurt Edelgard more than she was.

She helped Edelgard into the bathroom, flipping on the light and lifting her onto the counter where she would be able to hold her easily. Dorothea kissed her forehead, looking her in the eyes. The girl before her was shaking and Dorothea caught sight of herself in the mirror behind them. Her own eyes were veiled in worry, her mouth drawn into a tight line.

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t real. I have you, please don’t worry,” she urged. Edelgard nodded, but the tears were streaming down her face and her breaths were still hiccuping in her throat. Dorothea felt her stomach sink, not sure if this was something she needed more help with. She didn’t know if Edelgard was prone to panic attacks, so she just held onto her and continued to whisper assurances into her ears. Edelgard gripped lightly onto the back of her shirt, every once and a while gasping for breath as if her life depended on it.

Dorothea herself was beginning to panic, unsure if there was a way to cheer up her girlfriend. All she could do was rub her back as she shook, not sure if she should even ask what the nightmare was about. She felt lost, feeling her own heart race up at the thought of not being able to help. Edelgard was crumbling in front of her and she was being rendered useless.

Just when she was going to get someone, there was a light knock at the door. Edelgard’s eyes shot towards the noise, wide in fear. Her body went stiff.

“It’s Hubert,” a voice said. Dorothea never thought she would be glad to hear that voice, but she opened the door. He walked right past her and went to the counter where Edelgard was hunched over. “You’re okay, Edelgard. Nothing can hurt you.”

Edie looked at him and then tackled him into a hug as Dorothea closed the door, hovering by it. Hubert wrapped his arms around her, letting her bury her face into his chest. “You’re going to be okay. Take a deep breath. Do you want to go outside?”

“No,” Edelgard said, muffled by his shirt. Dorothea had never heard Hubert speak so softly. There was no menace in his tone, no veiled threat and no sarcasm. She knew in that moment how much he loved Edelgard. His devotion was something of fairytales. “I’m sorry, Dorothea.”

“Dorothea is fine, right?” Hubert asked, shooting Dorothea a threatening look as if she would say it wasn’t okay.

“Don’t worry about me, Edie,” Dorothea said, running a hand through her hair. Slowly but surely her sharp inhales turned into muffled cries and Dorothea’s heart broke despite the relief.

“Go upstairs and get a glass for water,” Hubert directed and she listened.

Dorothea didn’t realize that she had been shaking as well until she was holding the glass precariously between both of her in hands in an attempt not to spill it. She had gotten better over the past year helping Bernie with any type of problem she had, but she had never expected such intense and potent emotions from Edelgard. She wanted to be the one to help her no matter what, but she had failed.

When she returned to the bathroom after promising those awake in the other room that Edelgard would be okay and that it was under control, Hubert and Edelgard had moved to the floor. Their backs were against the bathtub and Hubert had his arm around Edelgard. He was holding up his phone, Edelgard watching some sort of painting time lapse to calming music.

“Please drink at least three sips,” he said, both him and Dorothea helping her hold the glass of water before collapsing back into Hubert’s shirt, half asleep as the video continued. He waved his phone gently at Dorothea. “Something to distract her from the nightmares. The water helps her get a better grip on being physically grounded, the same with holding her,” he continued, as if reading off of a list. “Sometimes she needs fresh air, which is helpful. This is also embarrassing for her, so she’ll need assurance when she wakes up that this wasn’t a problem… which it wasn’t.”

“It would never be a problem,” Dorothea whispered as she sunk down on the bathmat in front of them, not liking the threatening tone that Hubert had adapted. She was nearly insulted that Hubert didn’t seem to trust her. Then again, she wasn’t able to help her. Perhaps he was right to doubt her own devotions. “Thank you. Especially for telling me what you do to help.”

“I tell you these things because they have worked for me since we were children,” he said, adjusting as Edelgard fell practically limp at his side, the exhaustion of the night hitting her. “She is strong, but there are things that haunt her. It makes her no less of a powerful person.”

“I never doubted her,” she promised. “I just,” her voice broke, but she pushed through it, “I wouldn’t have been able to calm her down like you did. I didn’t know how to help.”

“You did the best that you could.”

“I should have been there for her.”

“You were. As was I.” Hubert turned off his phone, beginning to lift Edelgard to her feet. She was still half awake, but he brought her into a princess carry as if she weighed nothing. “Don’t blame yourself, Dorothea. I have known Edelgard for my whole life, you have not. We both have different relationships with her… what were you saying? Two hands.”

The last part was said with a chuckle and Dorothea relaxed. He was right. Hubert would always be her best friend and that wasn’t a threat to her relationship with her girlfriend. Dorothea was blessed that Edelgard had someone that loved her as much as Hubert did. “Two hands,” she repeated. “I never thought today would end with Hubie comforting me.”

“Edelgard likes you,” he said as they left the bathroom, “so if you’re going to be around, I want her in the best care.”

“Thank you,” Dorothea said. They tiptoed back into the room, getting Edelgard settled before they both joined her on the mattress on the floor. Edelgard was still clinging to Hubert, but she grabbed Dorothea’s hand under the blankets, moving it to her hip.

Ah yes. My girlfriend. And her six foot two inches tall goth best friend. Dorothea nearly laughed to herself as she nestled into the blankets. She took a deep breath herself, doing her best to settle. She was glad that Edelgard had a friend like Hubert. It was what she deserved, after all.

For a moment Dorothea wondered if Hubert saw Edelgard as more as a friend. Edelgard had said that it wasn’t like that, but honestly she wouldn’t mind if it turned out that Hubert did want to romantically be involved with her. Even so, he clearly cared deeply for her and that was something that Dorothea did not take for granted.

“Goodnight,” Dorothea said again, to both Hubert and Edelgard. “Sleep well.”

“You too,” Hubert grumbled and Edelgard just sighed.

Dorothea would have to ask him again what was best to calm Edelgard down, but for now she was just lucky to have someone to help her. Feeling much more sure in herself than before, she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

By the time Constance wandered into the kitchen for coffee, Hubert and Ferdinand were already arguing over several breakfast-related subjects. They never seemed to let their little rivalry rest, even if it was just over eggs.

“Constance, do you… shake your eggs before or after they have cooking?” Petra asked as Constance took a seat at the island next to her.

“You scramble the eggs in a bowl before you put them in the pan,” Hubert corrected, glaring at Ferdinand. It would be a look terrifying enough to convince anyone into agreeing with him. Except for a certain red-head.

“The eggs still scramble if you do it in the pan!” he insisted. “I’m sorry that I’m not doing it your way, but I think it will be fine.”

“Good…morning?” Constance offered. Hubert growled at Ferdinand, before focusing his efforts on getting mugs of coffee out to everyone who was awake. He was putting them in identical mugs, which nearly made her laugh. She was so used to her own apartment with only three mismatched mugs. Hubert lined them up on the counter, going down the line to get coffee orders. He only scoffed a bit when Caspar claimed he didn’t like coffee. Ferdinand had also started to make pancake mix—she was surprised that the man could cook anything by himself.

“Good morning,” Edelgard said, coming up the stairs. She looked better than she had during the middle of the night, but Constance could recognize the tired look in her eyes. As much as she related to being haunted by nightmares, she didn’t feel like it would be a good idea to attempt comfort her. “Ferdinand. Your eggs are burning.”

“I would never burn—” he turned to the pan “—shit.”

“Pay attention,” Hubert growled, but he passed the first mug of coffee to the captain. The rest of them were dished out made exactly to taste.

Slowly, each of the teammates assembled in the kitchen as Ferdinand got breakfast out with varying levels of success. Dorothea was the last to enter the kitchen.

“You look fancy,” Edelgard said, somehow ignoring Hubert and Ferdinand arguing over how to make pancakes and instead turned to Dorothea. She was wearing a light pink sun dress, her shoulders covered by a white sweater. Her heels clicked on the floors as she took a seat between Bernie and Constance, kissing Bernie on the cheek.

“Thank you, Sunday best,” Dorothea explained, still pinning bits of her hair back to keep the curls from getting in front of her face. “Can’t skip a week, unfortunately. Thank you, Ferdie.” She looked to the plate of pancakes placed in front of her. “What’s your family’s name so mine can pick me up?”

“Von—”

“Cut it.” Hubert nearly slammed a mug on the counter, interrupting the other’s grand flourish. “Dorothea, have I ever mentioned you tend to be unbearable?”

Dorothea just shrugged, rolling her eyes and taking the cup of coffee that Hubert had offered. Constance watched as she brought the mug to her lips, shamelessly staring at her friend. Seeing her and Edelgard the night before had made her more jealous than she cared to admit. She was grateful for Dorothea’s support, regardless of if it was romantic or not, but seeing her at ease with her two partners solidified some of the fluttering feelings that had followed her for months. She feared she was too late, especially now that Dorothea was dating more than one person.

“I am able to drive you” Constance offered, taking the chance presented. “I have my car, then Harold and Mary won’t have to fathom picking you up.”

“Thank you, Con!” She beamed, taking another sip of her coffee. “Perhaps it will be easier than having them wander the neighborhood.”

The impulsive feeling followed her as she packed up her bag from the night and drove to the small church that Dorothea would go to weekly with her foster parents. Even though Constance visited her house regularly, she had never been to the church… even Dorothea wouldn’t speak much about the masses themselves—just that Harold and Mary were very religious. She parked in the lot, watching the families with young children in nice clothes. The sight of so many families stirred her heart, but she quickly shoved it deep down.

“Thank you, darling,” Dorothea said, getting out of the car. “I will see you tomorrow at—”

“Would it be favorable if I came with you?” Constance asked, not wanting to see her leave so soon. Perhaps it was selfish—they had spent the entire weekend with one another. Yuri had teased her about “her girl” as he was washing the dye out of her hair. Even if she never told him or Hapi, they both thought her crush was obvious. “I am interested in seeing a mass, I don’t believe I have ever been.”

Dorothea smiled, a gentle warmth washing over her. “Of course. I do have to warn you, it’s a bit boring… but a nice, quiet hour.”

They met Harold and Mary, Constance feeling terribly under-dressed in the sweatshirt that Hapi had lent her. Both of Dorothea’s foster parents looked like they could be grandparents, but they had never had children of their own. Harold had gray hair and a light beard of sorts, while Mary still dyed hers a dark brown.

“Constance? How are you?” Mary asked, beckoning her for a hug. Constance fell into their usual routine, the couple asking about how she was faring and if there was anything they could do to help her. Constance never knew how to answer that question, always letting them know that having her over occasionally for dinner was more than enough. She was new to Dorothea’s life but they still treated her like family at the end of the day—it made it easy to forget the threat that loomed if either Mary or Harold were to find out about their sexualities.

The church building itself was bathed in a soft light, the sun filtering through tall, stained glass windows. Dorothea instructed her on the basics: keep her phone on silent, follow the rest of the crowd, don’t talk during the mass. When the music began, they all stood, watching as the priest entered the building. She was surprised by the beauty in which Dorothea sung the hymns. Of course, it was clear that she was an amazing singer, she didn’t expect her to know the words and melody so well. She sang the lyrics with the passion of an actress, some of the other parishioners pointing her out in the crowd.

Constance stayed quiet during the entire mass, taking cues from Dorothea for when to sit, stand, or kneel. The sermon hadn’t caught her attention, but she instead glanced around the building, taking in the architecture. The stained glass windows greeted her with images of different saints. Dorothea took her hand, hiding them with her knit sweater. Constance could see Dorothea trying to gauge her reaction, but she refused to make eye contact, knowing that her cheeks were flushed. She didn’t know what her friend was doing. It was difficult at times to judge between her flirting and her teasing, but this seemed like something real. Her reassuring touch grounded her body while her mind escaped to all the endings where they could be happy together.

There was nothing about Dorothea that she didn’t know… except for this. Every time she came over to watch shows or do homework, Dorothea would talk about anything and everything under the sun. She was never shy, except for mass. Constance didn’t know about how she whispered the prayers, sang the hymns as if her life depended on it, wore the silver cross around her neck. Dorothea had mentioned before that she didn’t believe in anything but the motions. She believed in the reverence of the building and the community that gathered each week.

She was either a wonderful actress or a terrible liar.

The mass went on for ages, only because Constance wanted to savor every moment of it. It felt like peeking behind a mask that Dorothea was wearing, or seeing the area behind the curtains of a play. It was enchanting and Constance felt honored that she was the only one who was uncovering Dorothea, untangling her from the religion she found herself thrust into.

“I want to show Constance where the choir sings,” she said as the last notes of the closing hymn faded. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Mary said, smiling at the two girls. “Harold and I wanted to speak to the father about next week’s food drive, were you planning on helping?”

“Yes, you can put my name down.” Dorothea turned to Constance. “Shall we go?”

“We shall,” Constance spoke the first words since mass began. She couldn’t say she recalled any of it apart from the girl standing in front of her. She followed Dorothea as they weaved through the congregation and arrived at a small door at the back of the church. They ducked into it, climbing a set of extremely narrow stairs.

“I saw the pianist leave, but I wanted to show you. Sometimes I sing for the mass, and in my opinion the church looks the prettiest from up here,” Dorothea explained as they worked their way to the top. “It’s like a little nest.”

From the balcony, Constance could see the whole church. The lingering parishioners seated in the pews looked small, some chatting in a group by the priest. It was easy to pick out where a kneeler was left down, or one of the hymnals that didn’t make its way back into the holder. The aisle stretched the length of the building, leading up to the altar where Christ hung above. She didn’t understand the appeal of getting married under a dying man, but she supposed it was none of her business.

“It’s pretty from up here,” Constance said.

“I’m sorry to drag you to this.”

“I invited myself,” Constance assured, watching as Dorothea flicked through some of the music sheets on the piano. Her heart was pounding and she knew what she wanted to say. It was on the tip of her tongue, but the doubts plagued her. What if Dorothea didn’t see her as any more than a friend? What if she only wanted two partners, not three? Would she be okay with the crush that was growing as they went through the practices, the one she had on their captain?

“It looks like they’re finishing up,” Dorothea said, heading back towards the stairwell that they had climbed up. They ducked into it, but Constance grabbed her hand before they could turn the corner that opened up to the church. Dorothea looked surprised, but turned to her with a gentle smile and a “yes?”

“You’re lovely,” Constance managed, but it wasn’t what she wanted to say. She was worried about rejection. But, her friend looked beautiful bathed in the light reflected from the stained glass that echoed down into the cramped stairwell. Her green eyes shined bright and even in a place that was attempting to suffocate her, she still stood as herself. “Can I kiss you?”

Dorothea took her hands. “Of course, darling.”

Constance kissed her best friend and all of her fears dissolved.

Her lips were softer than she could have imagined, the dreams of kissing her nowhere near enough to replicate the real thing. Constance dropped her hands and pulled her in by her waist, not able to get enough of her. She didn’t know how strong the emotions had been brewing since they met and she was overjoyed that Dorothea was reciprocating them.

Dorothea broke away with a smile on her face. “You’re going to get us caught, Con.”

“S-sorry,” Constance stuttered out, her face flushing with the realization of what she had done and more precisely—where she had done it. Her eyes shot past Dorothea as if someone would be standing there waiting to reprimand them. Instead, she was only met with the empty stairs.

“I’m kidding,” Dorothea kissed her cheek once more. “You are adorable. And we’re going to have to unpack that it took a church visit to have you make a move.”

“H-hey!” Constance managed as they made their way down the rest of the stairs and into the quiet atrium. “How dare you criticize my methods! You are just so…”

She trailed off, not finishing her sentence. Constance wanted to feel the warmth and happiness from the kiss long after it had happened. Dorothea was still beaming at her when her foster parents came up to them on the way out.

“Ready to head out?” Harold asked.

“Of course,” Dorothea responded.

“Constance is very welcome to join us for dinner.” Mary pointed back into the church as if to explain to her. “The priest who gave the mass is going to join us as well.”

Constance’s gut reaction was to turn down the invite—she may not believe in god but she also was superstitious about having dinner with a man who’s church she just kissed in—but Dorothea took her arm.

“Please?” She pouted at the smaller woman. “We can work on homework together, you have that chemistry test tomorrow, right?”

Constance blushed crimson after the girl winked and stuttered out a, “I’ll b-be honored.”

While Dorothea continued to chat with her foster parents, Constance lagged behind slightly.

Dorothea would be her undoing, wouldn’t she?

“I will be having the purple,” Petra plucked the golf ball from the wire basket, while attempting to roll up the sleeves of Ferdinand’s sweatshirt that was hanging off of her. “Caspar?”

“Blue,” he called, tossing the ball in the air and catching it. They were standing at the small window at the local mini golf course, the teenage employee looking annoyed that they wanted to play the week that the season was ending. Caspar had packed into the car with Ferdinand, Bernie, Petra, and Linhardt, bidding farewell to the rest of the team after breakfast. While Constance and Dorothea had church (confusing? Yes, but he didn’t ask.), Hubert had needed some space from Ferdinand following the arguments for breakfast. They had invited Flayn, but Seteth decided homework was more important than team bonding.

Caspar joined the others who had already gotten their balls and clubs, looking out at the fun-themed holes. Even planted at the beginning of the course they could see the windmill, a gentle looking dinosaur obstacle, and the water traps that were dyed a brilliant turquoise.

“It is having such… smallness,” Petra said. “Do you not hit it hard?”

“No, it is all putting. If you hit it hard, someone is going to get smacked in the face,” Linhardt said. It was surprising that he had come along, but Caspar was pretty sure Constance was supposed to be his ride, but she left while he was asleep. So instead, he was loaded into the car with the rest of them.

“You want to get the lowest number!” Ferdinand continued. “I, myself, play a lot of golf with my father. I will not be going down so easily!”

Caspar rolled his eyes at Ferdinand sweeping his arm through the air as if the half-assed mini golf course was a battlefield. Bernie ducked under his arm, avoiding getting hit in the face. She, like Petra, was wearing one of Ferdinand’s sweatshirts, with VON AEGIR plastered on the back of it. He wished he had brought one of his own sweatshirts for her to wear… at the very least it would have fit her better. Yeah, that was it. That must have been why he wanted to have his sweatshirt on hand.

“Who will go first?” Linhardt yawned. He put his ball on the first green and putt it without waiting for an answer, getting a hole in one. “I’m not keeping track of the score.”

“What the—”

“I will be doing the same!” Ferdinand hopped up next, his voice bellowing and echoing all the way to the parking lot. Caspar winced. He attempted the same feat, but the ball didn’t quite reach the hole, falling short.

“Wonderful job,” Linhardt commended.

“It was just the breeze,” Ferdinand said and Caspar was considering walking away from the course before realizing how funny it would be to beat his teammate at his own game. They had been playing together on the volleyball team since Caspar was a freshman, and although he could be… well Ferdinand at times… he was still a good person to hang around. There was hardly a moment of downtime as long as he was with his friend, and all in all it would make for an entertaining afternoon.

“Yeah, right,” Caspar said. “Bernie, you’re up.”

“Oh, uh.” She crouched down, placing the ball on the green. He really hoped that she would find mini golf much more relaxing of a sport than volleyball, especially since there was no threat of getting hit by a ball. Her putt got her surprisingly closer to the first hole than Ferdinand’s had.

Petra then knocked his ball even further away from the hole.

“My apologies, Ferdinand,” she said as he continued to sulk more and more.

Caspar also got a hole in one, taking it upon himself to keep track of the scores for the group. They were the only ones on the course, birds still chirping as they greeted the new day. Bernie stayed by his side, laughing quietly to herself as Linhardt continued to deliver. He was glad that she was growing comfortable with the team—it had been surprising when she said “yes” to the sleepover at all.

“Why is Ferdinand having difficulties?” Petra asked as his putt nearly spiraled into the water trap. “I am not having the same hardness.”

Caspar failed at keeping in his laughter, earning a glare from Ferdinand that was shockingly close to one of Hubert’s. He supposed that the man was learning from his new (boy)friend.

“It is not funny to make fun of people’s downfalls,” he insisted. “All morning, Hubert harassed me about cooking, and now this.”

“Hey,” Caspar said, crossing his arms, “my dude. No one would make fun of you if you didn’t act like you’re better than everyone right off the bat.” Bernie shrunk behind him a bit with the confrontation, but Caspar wasn’t planning to fight. There was no need to dwell on it, sometimes people just needed to be knocked down a peg in order to get back on the right track. “You’re doing fine, just relax. It’s mini golf.”

“You need to stop trying to prove your worth over dumb games,” Linhardt added, putting and watching the ball bounce off a sharp corner… then a rock… then perfectly into the hole. At this point Caspar was beginning to believe that he had set up the mini golf course himself. “Most of us are here for fun… I’m not quite sure why I’m here.”

“Because Constance left you?” Petra offered.

“Because Constance left me,” Linhardt repeated and Caspar face-palmed. “I’m not good at volleyball, but I don’t pretend I am. Just be honest with yourself and others.”

The advice left Ferdinand sputtering as they moved onto yet another hole, just throwing jabs at each other throughout. It wasn’t mean-spirited by any means without the usual offenders present, but Caspar felt bad for Ferdinand. He hadn’t meant to be rude to him, but his usual demeanor was long gone.

The son of a bitch was moping and Caspar unfortunately felt responsible for the shift in attitude. He supposed that Ferdinand deserved it, but he also wasn’t one to easily adjust to criticism. Caspar sighed to himself, knowing that he would always be the one to mend problems even if they weren’t his doing in the first place. Ferdinand had to be in a slightly better mood by the end of the game.

So Caspar putt his own ball straight into the fountain water trap.

“Fuck,” he whispered while Petra was puzzled, considering he clearly did not attempt to stay on the green. The younger student had watched him turn his whole body towards the currents.

“You were having purpose—”

“Shhhh,” he hushed her, before announcing. “I’m the first to get in a hazard, minus one for Caspar! Bernie, hold the scorecard.”

“Okay?” She took it, but pointed towards the window where they had paid for the game. He could no longer see the tired employee working behind the counter, perhaps he had gone back to looking at his phone. “We can ask them if they have a net?”

“Nah, I’ll just get it.” He also handed his club over before kicking off his shoes and taking his socks off. He rolled up his sweatpants and headed towards the water.

“It’s very cold,” Ferdinand said, motioning around to all of their friends who had to borrow jackets from him for the day. “The water will be even colder on your feet.”

“Caspar,” Linhardt said, sitting on a rock because standing for the time it took for everyone to catch up to him was too long, “you can just get a new ball at the front.”

Caspar looked down in the water, which was definitely showing its wear from the season. What once looked like turquoise from far away was now looking a little more green, and there was debris floating across the top along with water bugs. It wouldn’t be too bad, but it was certainly not going to be a pleasant swim. He didn’t even know why they dyed the water in the first place—they knew what water looked like.

“I don’t want to be a pain in the ass.” He shrugged, taking a step into the water. It was much more slimy than he expected, a thin layer of god-knows-what on top of the surface. The bottom of the fountain was slippery, so he shuffled his feet, hoping that nothing living was lurking in the water. It would be his luck if something slithered over his feet.

“Caspar,” Ferdinand spoke up, watching him as he made it to the middle of the fountain, “I don’t think this is the best idea, you could get hurt.”

“Nah, I got it,” he waved him off, squinting at the water. It was difficult to find the bright blue ball when it was in a body of water that was dyed teal. The bottom of the fountain sloped downward towards the middle and he was beginning to find it hard to keep his footing. Finally, he spotted it next to about four other balls and plucked it from the water.

“It looks… bad,” Petra said as she skimmed the water with her club, water that had probably been sitting stagnant since the beginning of the summer.

“Linhardt, I got it!” he called out. He was the closest person to Caspar, so he tossed the ball underhand to his teammate on the rock. “Catch!”

Linhardt did not catch the ball.

He watched in horror as it hit right below his eye, the boy bringing his hand up to his face. Caspar’s eyes widened and he lurched forward, trying to make sure his friend was okay on the shore. His foot landed right on a different golf ball, and he felt himself get thrown down into the water with a beautiful, miraculous splash.

“Oh my god,” Ferdinand said as Caspar cursed, feeling the water all over his body. It was already unpleasant enough just up to his calves, but being immersed was… bad. That was the only word he could think of using to describe it. “Linhardt, are you okay?”

“I got hit in the face with a golf ball, Ferdinand,” he said, his usual condescending and bored tone turning into a solely-condescending one. As Caspar stood carefully, the cold, autumn air hitting him like needles pricking his arms, Petra and Ferdinand flocked to Linhardt, making sure that he was okay.

Caspar waded out of the water, stepping back onto the course as Bernie appeared at his side, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”

“Better than our friend,” he said. Linhardt at the very least didn’t appear to be in too much pain, but a red mark under his eye marred his face. He was relieved that it didn’t break the skin. It was certainly going to leave a serious mark.

“You will be having a black eye, I think,” Petra said.

“Lovely, just lovely.”

“Do you want Ferdinand’s sweatshirt?” Bernie asked him, a warm hand on his wrist. “Your teeth are chattering.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He tried to shake the water off of him, probably looking like a wet dog, before wringing out the bottom of his sweatpants. He wondered if Ferdinand would even let him back into his car. He would need to find a towel or something so he wouldn’t ruin the upholstery.

“You’re always doing things to cheer people up,” Bernie said, attempting to help him wring out his shirt. Her small hands took the edge of it and the water fell back onto the course in large droplets. If he was being honest, Caspar could have been a new water feature in and of himself.

“I wouldn’t touch it if I were you, the water was slimy,” he frowned, blushing as she lifted his shirt up a bit from his body to get the water off. He winced as the wind bit at the skin on his stomach.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, not looking him in the eyes. “You’re a good friend, Caspar.”

“Even if I hit Linhardt in the face with a golf ball?”

“He wasn’t paying attention, I can’t say it was just your fault,” Bernie said with a laugh. It was sweet in Caspar’s ears, and surprising that she would speak against one of her teammates, even though it was just for a moment. Petra took off the sweatshirt she was wearing as well and tossed it to Caspar, still checking on Linhardt, who’s eye was watering. Ferdinand was certainly not going to like that they were all using his clothes to dry off the equivalent of a wet dog. Bernie caught the sweatshirt out of the air with ease, helping to mop up the water that was trapped in Caspar’s hair. He felt a little embarrassed to look so disgruntled in front of her, but she seemed to be in good spirits.

“You should probably switch into the sweatshirt that I’m wearing,” Bernie said again, still trying to squeeze the water out of his shirt. “This is soaked.”

“I can’t take it from you.”

“We’re going to be leaving soon, anyways. I would rather you be in dry clothes so you’re not freezing to death.”

Caspar thanked her, laughing as she ruffled his hair one last time. She looked him over, before saying, “You know, I was hoping—”

“Hey!”

All five of them turned when they heard yelling, the worker from the counter storming onto the course.

“Get the fuck out!”

Chapter Text

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “It’s Byleth! Am I good to enter?”

“Of course!” Dorothea urged, their coach opening the door.

“Don’t say ‘of course’ then not have a shirt on,” Byleth mumbled, adverting their eyes away from Dorothea, who had her top in her hand. The best they had managed in terms of a gender neutral bathroom was putting a sign on the second floor women’s bathroom, claiming it for their team for thirty minutes after the bell rang. Petra was still unsure why the administration seemed reluctant to have the teammates in the same locker room, but she was glad that they could at least designate their own area so Bernie wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. “I have a surprise for everyone,” they managed, despite not trusting enough to look up from the big box they were carrying.

“Are you needing help?” Petra asked as her coach let the box slam against the tile. “It is having weight.”

“It’s fine, I got it.” Byleth spared a glance upwards, satisfied when they saw a fully-clothed Dorothea. “So, your shirts aren’t the greatest.”

“Edelgard put a lot of effort into making them,” Hubert assured. Petra agreed that the heart was there… just not the skill or fashion. They had been wearing them to their past several games, but the homemade shirts stood out harshly against the uniforms the other schools had worn. They weren’t necessarily an intimidating presence on the court.

Of course, Petra wasn’t sure that a shirt could change them into a threatening presence overnight, but it would be better than nothing.

“I’m sure she did,” Byleth nodded to the captain, “but I have something better.”

They opened the box to a set of neatly folded uniforms. They lifted the first shirt off of the top. It was black with red details, a white 30 on the front. When they turned it, there was another 30, with “VON AEGIR” written across the top.

“Coach…” he was nearly speechless for once as he was handed the black t-shirt with matching shorts. “These are pretty expensive, the fabric is nice.”

“I was able to pull some favors,” they promised. “No offense, but I wouldn’t go bankrupt on this crowd. A friend of mine was looking to open their own printing place, so he used our uniforms as a practice run. Now, I was in conversation with our captain,” Byleth said as they continued to pass out the shirts: Hubert was 17, Dorothea 29, Bernie 12, “we decided for our team to be named the Garreg Mach Black Eagles. An eagle symbolizes inspiration and freedom. It has ties to pride and victory… I thought it would be fitting for our little team, as did Edelgard. While I cannot say we are close to winning, I’ve seen unbelievable growth from each one of you.”

Petra received her shirt, the “MACNEARY” accompanied by the number 7. She wondered if the coach had assigned numbers by their birthdays, it was a different one from the one that Edelgard had randomly written. “You are having my gratitude.”

“This is a lot,” Constance said, taking her shirt, now assigned 20. “Coach… what have we done to deserve this?”

“Worked hard with one another,” they hummed. They handed a number 11 shirt to Linhardt. “…Why does Linhardt have a black eye?”

“An incident,” Caspar provided, “mini-golf related.”

“Okay…?” Byleth trailed off, clearly unimpressed with the answer, tossing Caspar a shirt emblazoned with 1. “Well, thank god it wasn’t Flayn.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Linhardt crossed his arms, but even he looked interested in the change of uniforms. It was always difficult to gain his attention, but he was admiring the new shirt in his hands and looking around to see what numbers his teammates were assigned.

“Flayn gets number 6,” they said, tossing it over Petra’s head and into the owner’s hands. Flayn practically squealed at the shirt, and it felt warm in Petra’s hands. Byleth raised the final shirt for all to see, a brilliant crimson color: number 22 “VON HRESVELG.” “And the final shirt is for our libero and captain, Edelgard. This month has been… testing at times,” the coach was careful with their words, “but there has been such a shift in attitudes. I’m proud of all of you for having each other’s backs… even if Linhardt is getting hit in the eye with a golf ball? A golf club?”

“It was just a ball,” Caspar clarified, helpfully.

“Just?”

“Okay, I’m going to leave, all of you get changed.” Byleth waved Linhardt’s insult off, folding up the now-empty box. Petra noticed their shirt for the first time, the emblem on it was that of an eagle, “COACH EISNER” written in clear letters. She was glad that they had chosen to be a part of their group, regardless of how rag-tag it was.

Petra changed quickly into the uniform, slipping on the kneepads and long sleeved shirt with padding that Edelgard had lent her. As she had gotten better at receiving tricky serves, Edelgard had decided it would be better safe than sorry to outfit her with proper equipment. The two girls would spend all practice getting bruised by the gym floor. Petra didn’t mind: she knew it was hard for her to be of any use jumping for the ball, the least she could do for her team was slide along the court, giving them the chance they deserved to win a point. Her captain was proud of her progress, and it made her want to work even harder.

“Petra, ride with me and Con today,” Dorothea urged, pulling her by the hand towards the parking lot. Coach had yelled that they would be late, so they all grabbed their bags in a hurry. “How is training with Edie going?”

“I am having fun,” Petra said. “How is the gymnasium with Hubert?”

“Terrible, but he promised to start learning Hamlet lines with me,” Dorothea said with a laugh, tossing Constance her keys to unlock the car. “My legs hurt like a bitch.”

“She’s been getting better,” Constance provided. “I’ve never heard her so quiet.”

“Con, don’t be terrible.” She leaned in and kissed her cheek, a development that Petra had heard about from Dorothea over the weekend. Both of Petra’s friends looked even happier than before, and their romantic relationship seemed to fit like a perfect puzzle piece against their already existing friendship.

Dorothea took off her earrings, necklaces, and rings, and stacked them in the cup holder. She had gotten in trouble at the scrimmage earlier in the week for playing with jewelry in, so it was nice to see Dorothea actively following the rules.

Somehow, the rest of the team had beat them to the school they were facing, so Dorothea, Constance, and Petra had to nearly sprint to the front of the building. Byleth just checked them off on their clipboard and motioned all of them into the gym.

Petra could hear the team warming up, the sound of volleyballs bouncing off of the court echoed from the hallway. The coach let them know that instead of another varsity team, this was only a JV team. Even so, this school was known for their much more competitive sports teams, so they had told the team—specifically making eye contact with Ferdinand—not to underestimate them.

“Okay, remember how practice went this week?” Byleth asked as they all got into a huddle of sorts, checking their notes. “We have the first serve, I want Ferdinand taking it. We want to ride this momentum as long as we can, keep him in the position. Petra and Flayn will round out the back line. Once Petra gets to serve, expect Flayn to be rotated out for Edelgard. The front will be Caspar, Constance, and Hubert.

“Dorothea, Linhardt, and Bernie,” they continued, turning to where the three were together, “this game I’m aiming to keep your substitution in for a reasonable amount of time. I know Linhardt and Dorothea have been working at the net, and Bernie—all I want from you is no crying. You’ll be substituting in for Constance, Caspar, and Flayn when the time comes.” They tucked their clipboard under their arm. “Any questions?”

“Why am I in the starting rotation?” Constance asked with a frown.

“Because you are having growth!” Petra offered, earning a thumbs up from Dorothea.

“What Petra said,” Byleth pointed a finger in her direction, “Constance, you’ve been getting much better at receiving and second-touches, but you’ve also been relying heavily on Edelgard and Dorothea. This will give you a chance to work with the others.”

“Okay,” Constance said, but Petra couldn’t help but notice that she seemed deflated by the comment.

“Now, let’s get going, Black Eagles,” Byleth said, with a small smile on their lips, “kick some ass.”

Petra took her position on the defensive line, doing her best to hype up Flayn. The other freshman would always grow nervous right before a game began, playing with her fingers or adjusting her ponytail half a dozen times. Petra was used to sports so the idea of a game didn’t bother her as much, but it was easy to get back into the head space of before-game jitters.

“You are having this!” Petra cheered, giving her a final high five before readying her position. She wanted to show off for Edelgard during this game, to assure her that the extra help hadn’t gone to waste. She had felt confident while practicing against the others on the team, but an opponent was a different story. They were less predictable because she wasn’t acquainted with their play styles and wouldn’t be able to anticipate what their next move would be.

Ferdinand called out the score before serving, catching the other team off-guard with a powerful overhand hit. Petra supposed that this time they were the ones to underestimate the Black Eagles, and they were awarded an easy point.

Petra gave her teammate a thumbs up and helped the ball get returned to him. A part of her hoped that Ferdinand’s serve would be simply untouchable, but the second serve was saved and a rally began. Petra watched carefully—not only where the ball was going and who had it at the moment, but also how the other players were moving around that central point. Edelgard had asked her to watch volleyball matches when she had time, teaching Petra how to anticipate possible plays. The best way to earn a point was being a step or two ahead of the opponent, and she was surprised when she saw the right wing brace herself, ready to spike.

In a split second Petra followed her angle, to where she would likely slam the ball diagonally across the court. Petra shifted her own weight, knowing that Ferdinand would easily be able to cover while Flayn was still nervous about the beginning of the match. When the ball shot towards the ground—right over Caspar’s head—Petra dived for it, getting it back up in the air. At first slamming against the gym floor had hurt, but her body quickly became accustomed to sliding rather than hitting the ground with all the force of her dive. Caspar was quick to set the ball, Hubert stepping out of his comfort zone to spike it back over the net.

Another point for the Black Eagles.

Flayn helped her up off of the ground, and Petra didn’t want to jinx the match, but it was the first time they had ever opened up with two consecutive points. The momentum carried them another five points, which may not have been an accomplishment for most teams, but for the Black Eagles it was unheard of. Eventually, Ferdinand’s serve was received and Constance was unable to get the ball back up into play—but there were plenty of smiles on the court, regardless. Even Byleth was smiling on the sidelines, Dorothea cheering them on.

They got the serve back within three points, giving them the opportunity to switch Edelgard into the game.

“Nice job,” Edelgard said when she got back in, watching as Petra bounced the ball against the floor. Although she couldn’t serve as hard as Ferdinand or even Constance, she had developed a consistent serve at the very least. “Listen to my calls so we don’t end up hitting one another.”

Petra served it in, and by this point the other team knew better than to spike at their back line. What the other team wasn’t prepared for was that their front row now had both Hubert and Ferdinand. They would get the ball into position to spike, only to be blocked by the two men, who were working in a surprising amount of synchronization this game in particular.  Constance had received the ball a few times, getting it to Hubert before Ferdinand could spike it right back at the opponent.

Edelgard had the biggest smile on her face, not even criticizing Caspar when his yells echoed across the gym. They were finally settling into a rhythm together. Each time they lost a point, it didn’t feel like the end of the world. Flayn was rotated back in once the her position returned to the front line and the other freshman held her own without getting trampled by any of their teammates.

Petra also found herself smiling. Her body was beginning to ache, but it wasn’t enough to make the match feel miserable. They continued to ride the momentum of their success, the eagle emblem blazing on their chests.

“Coach,” Dorothea sang, crouching next to them, “are you sure Bernie has to go in today? It’s still all really new to her…”

Bernie attempted to tune out the rest of the favor for her own sake, shrinking further into herself on the bench. She had thought she would be ready after sitting out the previous game, but now she was having her doubts. Her team was doing such a good job today. They were so close to winning the set, and she knew she would find a way to mess it up if she was in the game. Dorothea had seen her reservations and agreed in hushed whispers to ask the coach.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Bernie,” Linhardt said, leaning back into the bleachers as if he could fall asleep in his uncomfortable position. To be fair, he did look like he was moments away from giving in. “I also want nothing to do with this game—I even pleaded injury.” He motioned to his eye, still a sickly combination of fading purple and yellow. “No one is expecting you to even hit the ball, you will be fine.”

“But—”

“Bernie, usually I would listen to your request,” Byleth said in a gentle voice, turning to her as Dorothea frowned behind them, “but I really think you’re ready. Although I wouldn’t say it as sarcastically as Linhardt—” they shot the boy a glare “—I’m not asking you to hit the ball. I just want you to be on the court, and Dorothea will be there with you, as well as the rest of your teammates. Have faith in them.”

Bernie was going to continue to argue when Coach called the switch and she was thrown onto the court. Caspar, Constance, and Flayn were all taken out of the game, a look of joy and exhaustion mixed on their faces. Caspar in particular had been an integral part of a majority of the plays and his hair was damp with sweat. Even so, he had a goofy grin on his face.

“Hey, Bernie.” Caspar caught her hand as they passed one another. He gave her hand a squeeze. “You can do this. Just remember to keep an eye on the ball, and it won’t be as scary.”

Bernie wanted to say that it made her stop shaking, but her fingers were still trembling as she took the front line with Dorothea and Hubert. Linhardt was right behind her with Petra, and it was back to Ferdinand’s serve. The other team wasn’t going down easily and was still consistently winning serves, but somehow the Black Eagles had pulled ahead in points. She had watched Petra and Edelgard become quite the team, and cheered as Constance scored her first point in a game. Caspar played at his usual level of excellence, and Flayn had been providing such a solid support to both Ferdinand and Hubert. She knew that her girlfriend was ready to play hard and even Linhardt was confident in his newfound ability to spike when given the opportunity (he had told her on the bleachers that Coach would be sure to switch him out with their libero if he made a good play).

That left her.

Regardless of how much Caspar helped her, she still found the idea of hitting a ball terrifying. It was unpredictable, potentially painful, and being aimed directly at her. She wanted nothing to do with it, but her teammates kept her coming back to each practice. It was strange, really, after so many years of being alone and then simply opening up to Dorothea… but now she wanted to be a part of a group. Even if they were loud and scary at times, she knew that it was all in jest and they never meant to hurt one another.

The whistle blew and she jumped, turning away from the net to watch as Ferdinand backed up for a serve. In first rotation he had done an impeccable job of serving—the opponents rarely able to get their hand on the ball if they even did at all. Byleth had whispered something about him being their ace, but she wasn’t quite sure what it insinuated… other than he was good. He would drum the ball against the court, far away from the line before throwing it high in he air and running forward, jumping up and connecting with the ball. He had tried more than once to teach Dorothea, but she was never able to get the timing correct.

Bernie watched as it flew over of the net and past the opponents, slamming against the court.

She shook the nerves from her hands, willing them to be still. If Ferdinand continued to serve well, she wouldn’t even need to think about receiving the ball. Dorothea cheered for the point, Petra giving him a thumbs up. Hubert looked less impressed, and Bernie would have been surprised if Linhardt was even paying attention.

The next few points went without a threat of the ball going to a rally, and Bernie allowed herself to unclench her jaw. Dorothea was getting restless next to her, shuffling back and forth on her feet without her usual rings and bracelets to twist. Ferdinand looked like he was growing tired, and it showed when his next serve sailed over the net in a less-sure arc. Bernie watched in horror as the back row got the ball  into the air, the middle blocker setting it, and a spike coming in their direction.

“Mine!” Petra yelled, nearly pushing Linhardt out of the way as he barely looked up at the incoming spike. She got it into the air and Hubert set the ball, Dorothea jumping into the air to spike it. The hit wasn’t perfect, but Bernie watched as her girlfriend slammed the ball down hard at the opponent, the ball ricocheting off their arm and out of the court.

Dorothea looked shocked. “I did it?!”

“Dorothea has did it!” Petra congratulated, earning a quick hug from her teammate. The ball went back to Ferdinand and Bernie smiled at the beaming girl. She was glad that a bit of her vibrancy had returned. The two of them had been on a long phone call during the week about her foster situation. Mary and Harold had offered to pay for her college, an offer that had left Dorothea sick to her stomach. Bernie did her best to comfort her, but she had already been overwhelmed with their hospitality given her eighteenth birthday that was in less than a week. Dorothea deserved more security than she ever thought she did, but Bernie could only listen as she rambled about getting an apartment and finishing high school.

“Bernie!” Linhardt called behind her as a ball nearly hit her.

She scrambled out of the way, letting it hit the court. Bernie heard the following whistle and new she had messed up. She had let her thoughts distract her and she wasn’t even sure of where the ball was. It could have hit her. She could have gone down, and she wasn’t even paying attention.

“I—” she gasped, eyes wide, “I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!”

She hated how the words always found a way to her lips, tripping out of her mouth as a last defense. There were, however, no fists raised and no threats given. Just a worried smile from Dorothea and a “you’ll get it next time” from Ferdinand.

“Head up, Bernie!” Byleth said from the sideline, looking ever-intimidating with their arms crossed. She was worried that she had upset them; but trusted that they wouldn’t retaliate against her. They looked even more powerful now that they had a proper uniform shirt to go with the rest of the team. Bernie wondered if it was anyway equivalent to the energy they exuded playing professional hockey. If so, they must have been terrifying on the ice.

“No one will be upset with you if you don’t hit the ball,” Dorothea said in a hushed tone as they all got ready for their opponents to serve.

It was Linhardt this time who received it, the ball rising above Bernie’s head. She froze, knowing that at some point it would have to come down. Unless if it got stuck in the radiators, but that was a pipe dream if she had ever heard of one.

She took a deep breath, Caspar’s instructions to keep her eye on it echoing in her head. She waited for it, taking a couple steps back as she realized it was getting closer to her. She had to let it fall to her arms, so she adjusted.

Eyes closed at the last second, she felt it hit her arms—a quick kiss before bounding off.

Bernie could hear someone else hit it, and cheers from Dorothea as it hit the gym floor. “Holy shit, Bernie! You did it!”

Dorothea tackled her into a hug and Bernie laughed nervously, opening her eyes back up to the dim lights. It had stung a bit, but not any more than it had after a month of practice. She locked eyes with Caspar, who had leapt to his feet, and Coach who was smiling at her. The moment faded quickly after that, considering it was just a normal play for everyone involved except for her.

They rotated, Bernie moving to the back line as Petra took up the serve. Byleth called for a substitution, and Edelgard stepped forward to take Linhardt’s position.

Her crimson uniform stood out from the black attire the rest had on, fitting for the captain. The other team seemed to falter as she walked onto the court again, tossing her ponytail back from her shoulders. Edelgard was… for lack of better words, amazing. Dorothea blew her a kiss, and Bernie did her best to ignore the small bite of jealousy that was growing in her stomach. Her girlfriend deserved such vibrant and self-reliant partners. Ones that succeeded and never backed away from a challenge.

Bernie didn’t have to play much of the set after that. Since she was in the back row next to Edelgard, the captain covered nearly all the receives, except for the ones that dropped too close to the net. She would throw herself at the ball with such vigor, maneuvering and anticipating, leaving no room for the other team to make a mistake. Once she had it up in the air, Hubert would set the ball—sending it straight to Ferdinand and occasionally Dorothea. Petra continued to serve, playing it safe with a strong underhand rather than attempting the jump-serves that the co-captain had been drilling with her.

She wanted to be part of the team.

Bernie felt it creeping in, the familiar feeling that was following her when Dorothea spent the night with Constance and Dorothea… or when Caspar would work on drills with Flayn all practice. Or even when Coach would focus on the others.

She didn’t want to be left behind. Bernie knew that she could go back to hiding in her room all day, away from her father who didn’t care and away from the words that would burn her, but she didn’t feel the need to. It felt better to stretch her wings.

“Good job in the game, Bernie,” Edelgard caught her as they were walking off of the court. They were being subbed out at the same time, the captain coming in and out as per libero rules. The set was theirs for the taking, and excitement rattled on the court. Of course, they would need to win a second set, but it was something that never happened before.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You hit the ball,” Edelgard said with a little laugh. “I was… tough on you the first few weeks.” Her tone turned serious, nearly scolding. “That one hit is more than you have done in a game previously, and that’s something to be proud of. Don’t spend all your time looking at everyone else, okay?”

Bernie felt a swell hit her chest as the others took up their positions on the court. “Th-thank you.”

Caspar was back in and he was bantering with Dorothea on the defensive line, likely yelling about Linhardt actually scoring a point. Bernie had to admit that it was something of miracles.

“Bernie,” Byleth waved her over before she could return to her seat on the bleachers.

Bernie stood next to them, both player and coach keeping their eyes on the game. From this angle, Bernie could see all the notes and scribbles that they kept on their clipboard. Coach took each and every game seriously, regardless of how small it may have seemed. It was impressive and thoughtful, really.

“Congrats,” they said. “I know that I’m a little hard on you, but that was a good play out there. If you keep this up, none of it will be as scary anymore.”

“Th-thank you,” Bernie said with a nod. She was waiting for a caveat, but none came as the coach whistled, cheering for their players as they scored another point. “Is it really okay? I mean—I don’t do much on the court and the others are much better—”

“You did amazing,” Byleth answered before she could finish. “And I mean it. There’s no stipulations… I assess my players based on personal growth, not comparing them to veteran players.”

Bernie looked down, feeling a blush spread across her cheeks. “Thank you.”

It felt a little easier to watch the game after the assurances.

Chapter Text

“Are we sure that Bernie and her father aren’t at home?” Hubert asked as he passed rows of houses slowly, not daring to press on the gas hard enough to go over the speed limit. It was a nice neighborhood—albeit not a gated community like the one that he, Edelgard, and Ferdinand belonged to—but nice enough that there were signs warning to drive like “his children lived there” and speed bumps once per street. He would go over those slowly, letting his SUV roll over them even though Caspar was urging him to go faster. Petra was in the passenger seat next to him, playing with a receipt between her fingers. “It’s not worth it if we’ll be caught.”

“Dorothea said they just left,” Caspar said, throwing an arm over the seat in front of him.

Hubert swatted him away. “Sit down. If we get hit and you go straight through the front window, it’s not my fault.”

“Fine, fine,” the boy grumbled, the click of his seatbelt echoing in the silent car. Petra was clearly nervous, not speaking a word, but Caspar was agitated in the back. It prickled on his body, his tension clear in the occasional streetlight.

“Why are we doing this, again?” Hubert asked.

“Because Bernie’s father is… a dick,” Petra said, carefully uttering the word in a way that imitated Dorothea. Hubert had noticed how the older girl had taken the freshman under her wing, new mannerisms blooming between the two teammates that copied one another. “He is deserving of revenge.”

“Yeah!” Caspar added, peering out the window as they passed by the von Varley house. It was quiet, not a single light on in the dusk as promised. “You’re driving past it.”

“Checking before we commit to stopping.” Hubert glanced towards the house, himself, keeping a steady hand on the wheel as they coasted by. Nothing looked out of the ordinary—the two story home sitting ominously quiet in the dark. There was no sign of the horrors that it contained, none of the yelling or cursing that had been reported, but Hubert knew better than to trust a white picket fence. “We’ll circle the block, they probably have cameras, so we need to keep hoods up and use the masks.”

“I didn’t see any cameras on the porch,” Caspar insisted.

“If you look at every other house on the street,” Hubert continued with an irritated sigh, “they have advertisements for a security company. It’s likely that their house has the same.”

Hubert continued driving, his eyes picking out the little white stakes in the ground promising a 24-hour watch. There weren’t many cars driving around the neighborhood and Hubert hoped that meant less prying eyes.

“I want to kill that bastard,” Caspar muttered in the back, growing restless. “Wrecking his stupid car is too nice.”

Hubert agreed, but there was little that three high schoolers could accomplish. The neighborhood was a picture of suburbia, but Hubert wasn’t going to trust the promises. It was easy enough to believe his teammate, and he knew well that this wasn’t a safe home for her. God, his own home wasn’t safe for a gay man—this neighborhood much less for a seventeen year old bisexual, polyam, nonbinary person. He clenched the steering wheel a little harder as they began to drive back.

Her father would get what he deserved, the same kind of punishment he would deliver to his own one day when he believed things could be different. One day Hubert would be able to stand up and throw all his words back at his face, make them shatter his soul. Until then, he would settle for petty destruction of property.

He parked the car in front of another house down the road, one that looked less likely to have a camera lingering on his license plate. He picked out one with overgrown grass, paint chipping on the garage. Hubert cut the engine, letting the three of them sit in silence.

“Stay here,” he said to Petra once she began to unbuckle herself.

“I am wanting to help,” she insisted, but Hubert shook his head. He pushed his door open, stepping into the weeds and surveying the neighborhood as best as he could. Pulling a medical mask over his mouth, he tucked the rest of his identity into his hood and caught a glance of himself in the side view mirror. He couldn’t remember putting this much effort into anything not involving Edelgard, but his veins had roared with anger when Caspar explained the situation: how Bernie was grounded for something as simple as not passing a test with flying colors. How she had to sneak around just to visit him or her girlfriend. How she was faced with punishment and words that even made the tall man wince.

His reflection looked back at him, and his eyes were murderous.

No, Hubert couldn’t retaliate against his own father just yet, but he would have to settle.

“I can help!” Petra said again, hopping out of the car. Her hair fell on her shoulders in waves and Hubert didn’t think she ever wore her hair down at all. It made her look more mature, pieces that framed her face and her sober expression. “Bernie is needing the help.”

“Yeah, but we don’t want to risk you getting in trouble,” Caspar said as he swung out of the back of the car, popping the trunk. He had a bandanna tied around his mouth and a hood covering his shock of blue hair. Caspar swung his hands back and forth, as if he was just warming up for a volleyball match. “You can act as a lookout at the end of the driveway.”

“That’s too close,” Hubert argued, but he joined Caspar at the back. They had a baseball bat along with two cans of paint, a vibrant purple that they had gotten from Linhardt’s house. It was leftover from painting one of their rooms (he didn’t want to know which one could possibly require such an obnoxious color), and that was where they had picked up Petra.

She just happened to need a ride home and also was a fan of putting abusive fathers in their place.

“I am wanting to have help!” Petra insisted, following them. Hubert had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to shake her, not when she was this insistent.

“Stay at the end of the driveway, got it?” he relented. Both Petra and Caspar cheered, as if participating would be the best thing she could do with her day. He almost felt bad for dragging her into it, but it would be fine as long as she stayed far enough away that she could run to the van if needed. Hubert was the only one who could drive, so she couldn’t serve as a getaway driver—which would have been the most optimal position. “Remember the plan, Caspar?”

“Of course, who do you think I am?!”

Hubert was going to respond that he was known for forgetting plenty, whether it be his uniform or a water bottle, but it wasn’t worth the effort. The sooner they could get to the car and back while it was secured, the better.

Caspar picked up one of the cans of paint while playing with the baseball bat in his other hand. Hubert took the second can from Petra and they walked quickly towards the house. The neighborhood was quiet, with fall in full swing it wasn’t likely that they would be running into any dog walkers or elderly couples going out for a stroll. As they got closer to the house the sidewalks got nicer and even, the grass properly cut and no straggling leaves resting on the lawns. Hubert almost regretted that they were going to destroy the silence.

They wouldn’t be able to avoid the cameras, but hopefully they had obscured their identity enough. None of the lights were on inside the house, and Caspar and Hubert wasted no time getting to the sports car that was parked outside of the garage. If there was a garage right there, he wasn’t sure why Bernie’s father would ever leave it out, but he was grateful. He didn’t need to add “breaking and entering” to the list of crimes they were committing for the day.

“Okay,” Caspar put the can of paint down at his feet. “Let’s get this done quickly.”

Before Hubert could respond, he swung the bat back and then forward into the driver’s seat window as hard as he could. Even though he wasn’t a baseball player, the glass shattered and immediately the car alarm began to blare and echo down the empty streets. Hubert flinched, but he got to work, splashing the bright purple paint into the interior of the car. They were considering setting it on fire, but that would land them in deep water if they were caught. Not that they were going to be caught.

Caspar continued to go around the jet-black car, each window shattering and the glass scattering across the pavement. Even if her father didn’t understand the message they were sending, he plainly deserved any type of suffering that they could raze. Hubert threw the cans of paint in through the windows when he was done, satisfied with the way that they dripped off the leather and into the car mats. The damage was far from permanent—not when the man had so much money—but it was satisfying nonetheless.

Petra ran up the driveway a bit, but before Hubert could yell at her to head back down, she said, “We are having guests!”

“What does that—” Caspar stopped.

Across the street the neighbors had gone to the porch to see what the noise was about, gazing over and beginning to call out to them.

“Run.” Hubert grabbed the baseball bat out of Caspar’s hand, giving the side-view mirror a good hit and sending it flying before taking off back down the driveway.

“Shit!” Caspar yelled. “That’s what you get bitch! Stay away from your child, asshole!”

“He is not hearing you,” Petra said as she overtook both of them with a steady pace, long strides despite her height. “He is not home.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“Both of you shut up!” Hubert yelled—something rare. He never found much reason for raising his voice, but sometimes there was no other choice. He couldn’t hear what the neighbors were saying from their porch exactly, but one was on the phone. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the police. “Get back to the car before they follow us to it. We can’t let them get the plate.”

Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if they did get the plate. He had a feeling that his father would be able to deal with the police and avoid any consequences, but the real punishment in the von Vestra family always began at home. The last thing Hubert wanted was to have his father turn against him for something as simple as property damage.

He threw himself into the car, only glancing to the passenger seat and rearview mirror to make sure that Petra and Caspar were both in their seats. Caspar didn’t even have time to fully shut the door before he turned the key and pressed on the gas pedal. They wouldn’t be caught.

Petra was fiddling with the seat buckle as the car beeped at him for both lack of seat belts and the half-opened door. “What are they doing?”

“Probably calling the police,” Caspar said. He was gripping the edge of his seat so hard that his knuckles stood out white, even in the dusk. “Serves that bastard right.”

“Good job,” Hubert offered. “I’m going to drop both of you off now.”

Petra was nearly silent, but still bid them both goodnight as she got out of the car. Caspar, on the other hand, was growing more riled up with every passing second. Hubert dropped him off at his house, but he went immediately to the backyard, likely to practice volleyball or hit a ball around. It would be good for him.

Hubert, himself, returned to an empty house.

He could see the light on in Edelgard’s room across the street, but he didn’t want to show up unannounced. Dorothea had been spending more time at her house, and he didn’t want to interrupt them when the relationship was still so new. Hubert slipped his shoes off and stalked up to his room, careful not to make a noise on the stairs.

He was the only one home, but the careful precision was still ingrained into his natural movement—skirting around parents that wanted nothing to do with him on a bad day and rarely wanted to hear him speak on a good one. The less noise he made, the less attention he would draw, so he slipped up the stairs and carefully locked the door.

If Hubert had to be honest, as he crashed into his bed, nearly tripping over the backpack he had left in the middle of the floor in a rush, he wasn’t sure if he had made the right decision. Even so, at the end of the day, humans only reaped what they sowed. He was sure there would be screaming in the von Varley house, but the blame could hardly deflect back onto Bernie—not when she was with him the entire time.

Hubert could save his homework for the morning, he needed time to rest.

Linhardt walked at a slow pace, no need to rush on the Sunday afternoon. One might attribute the day of rest to god himself—but it was just because everyone wastes Friday and Saturday away only to realize that work is to begin the next day once more. He couldn’t drive, but the day was bright enough for fall that it didn’t matter. A light jacket was enough to shield him from the cold, and his body heated up as he walked to the neighborhood next to his own.

He found that walking had become less-taxing the more he went to volleyball practice each day. Even if his skills were hardly improving, he was still working his way into shape for the first time in his sixteen years of life.

Flayn’s house looked like a typical single-family home smack in the middle of the suburb. A mowed lawn and clipped bushes were more pristine than their neighbors, and a large cross hung on the front of the house, above the door.

Maybe it was a church, he wasn’t one to judge Seteth.

Linhardt cut through the green lawn.

Once he got to the front door, he knocked hard in hopes that someone was home. He assumed the garage was on the other side of the house, because he couldn’t see up the driveway from the side of the street that he had approached. After his first knock was met with silence, he knocked again.

Linhardt was about to knock a third time when a disgruntled Seteth answered the door.

“What could you possibly want?” Seteth asked, not giving Linhardt a moment to answer. “Now is not the time.”

“It’s important,” he said, handing Seteth a packet of papers that he had printed out at home. What he had discovered was beyond interesting and he wanted to get to the bottom of his many questions as quickly as he could. The easiest way would be by going directly to the source. “I started doing ancestry research a few years back and thought I had completed my tree. It took lots of scouring through old files and documentation, but I had managed a pretty strong compilation, but—”

“Get on with it. As I said, this is not the time.”

“I took a DNA test recently, and we had a match. Not only me and you, but also Flayn and Byleth. So I was hoping you would let me snoop around your family’s ancestry so that I can formulate a more exact tree. It doesn’t make sense that I haven’t been able to find any birth certificates or travel records… where is your immediate family from? Could I talk to a grandparent or—”

“Linhardt.”

“Also, we are likely cousins, isn’t that something—”

“Linhardt.”

“Oh.” He peeked around the man and into his kitchen, where Byleth was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in front of them. “I didn’t know Byleth was here, can I speak to them as well?”

“Now really is not the time for your silly games,” Seteth said with an aggravated sigh.

“I would hardly consider this to be silly or a game.” Linhardt shuffled through the papers that he had kept for himself. “Genealogy is quite fascinating if you take the time to look at it. A lot can be discovered through what is passed through blood and how families can stretch across continents unknowingly. Frankly, some family drama observed through these trees is more entertaining than the Kardashians could ever hope to be.” Then, past Seteth. “Coach! Can I come in and ask you some questions?”

“Actually, I have questions for you,” Coach said. Linhardt wasn’t sure if he had heard them correctly, but he could have sworn there was a hint of anger in their tone. It wasn’t often that there was any type of emotion in their voice, but it was even rarer for the apathy to give way to anger. “Get in here.”

“They want me to come in,” Linhardt said, pointing.

“Fine,” Seteth said, reluctantly stepping out of the way of the door. The inside of the house was decorated exactly as he expected, with plenty of pictures of his beloved daughter adorning the walls. It was quaint, well kept for a family of two, and he could smell the coffee brewing from the kitchen. He also handed out a packet of papers for Byleth to fill out about their family. The copy was originally meant for Flayn, but he decided that she would be able to share with her father. She would have similar information to him, whereas Byleth was more likely to add something new that he could look into.

“This is what I have so far for the part of the family tree that supposedly connects to your DNA. If you could put me in contact with any surviving relatives so that I could continue to look into matters, it would be lovely.”

“Um, okay?” Byleth said, but they seemed more confused than anything about his goal. It was fine, he didn’t expect everyone to understand immediately. “Linhardt, can you please sit down?”

Linhardt took a seat at the counter, tapping his feet impatiently against the foot rest. Byleth looked like they hadn’t slept all night, aggravation echoed in their hunch over the counter. They had a death grip on their coffee mug, as if it would get up and walk away if they weren’t paying attention.

“Do you know anything about what happened yesterday?”

“What happened yesterday?”

Byleth hesitated, but Seteth joined them at the counter. “There was an incident yesterday where three of your teammates vandalized a sports car.”

“Are you sure?” Linhardt asked. “I don’t think anyone on the team is capable of any type of damage.”

“We are looking into the matter and we need to know if this was planned beforehand and why they would go through with such a plan,” Seteth said. “They aren’t going to get in trouble with the law if we can deal with it on a smaller scale… but we still need the full story.”

“Oh, so that’s why they needed the paint,” Linhardt said.

“So you know who it was?” Byleth raised an eyebrow.

“I’m many things and not a snitch,” he said. “As my ex who went to juvie always told me, ‘snitches get stitches.’”

“That’s a lot to unpack in one sentence,” Byleth said. “Linhardt, this isn’t a joke—”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“If we can’t prove to Bernie’s father that we have properly punished the three that did this, we are going to have to bring this to the police. We know that one of the three was Hubert… and he’s no longer a minor. It would be especially damaging for him to be connected to this crime.”

“I would hardly call it a crime, I’m sure you have your ideas about what goes on in that house and now the police should be looking into that.” Linhardt continued to shuffle with his papers as Byleth took a sip from their coffee. “She didn’t even confide in me, but it’s clear that the man doesn’t treat her right. At all.”

Seteth and Byleth shared a look. “We understand that there are certain situations happening in the von Varley household,” Seteth said. “And we have been looking into it and checking in with her regularly, but this isn’t the proper way to go about fixing problems.”

“Why? Because it’s illegal? The man deserves it, what can I say?”

“This isn’t about who deserves what, and it’s not about the law,” Byleth finally cut him off and kept him quiet, raising their voice ever-so-slightly. “Bernie is in a difficult situation at home, and what you all did was put her in more danger. People like that can know that their victim did not have anything to do with the incident, but who do you think the blame and screaming will land on, did you think about that?”

“I’m sure if you asked the team they would come forward,” Linhardt said, knowing that Petra wouldn’t be able to hide the secret for too long, and any lie that Caspar ever told was written clear on his face, “but I’m not going to be the one tattling on my teammates. Especially if you don’t do anything about her situation despite being aware of it.”

His words were pointed towards Seteth, considering he was the vice principal of the school. There was no way that he wouldn’t have the resources to deal with the problem, but he had been silent on it.

“We provide support and services at the school, but I cannot say any more on the matter,” Seteth responded. He was insulted by Linhardt’s words, but he didn’t say anything in response. Coach was silently fuming once more, their grip on the mug continuing to tighten. He was honestly surprised that there wasn’t a crack in the ceramic. “I understand the situation isn’t—”

“You children think that you know what is best,” Byleth finally said, hammering their fist on the counter. Linhardt flinched as their indigo eyes hardened. He didn’t know if their temper was directed at him—he didn’t do anything, after all—but it was gravely in their voice. “You think that you solved her problem, but that’s the very base-level of it all. If you’re not going to be there to provide her shelter if she needs it or—hell, if you’re not going to be right by her side to protect her if her father turns against her for this—then I don’t want to fucking hear it? Do you understand?” Byleth stared at him. “Now go upstairs with Flayn, I don’t want to deal with you right now.”

Neither Linhardt nor Seteth argued, even if it wasn’t Linhardt’s house in the first place.

No one wanted to deal with the coach’s wrath, especially since they didn’t believe it to exist in the first place. Linhardt took himself and his papers upstairs, running into Flayn in the hallway of the wooden staircase. It was lined with pictures, and he dwelt on one with Seteth standing next to a gorgeous woman, pregnant at the time. He assumed it was Flayn’s mother.

The real Flayn’s eyes widened and she motioned for Linhardt to follow her, and he did. It wasn’t like he had a choice—he assumed he would be yelled at if he attempted to leave the house at all. He crept up the rest of the stairs and followed his teammate into her room. It was small, bathed in a soft light, and had… lots of fish-related decorations? He wasn’t going to ask.

“Is your father going to kill me for a boy being in your room?” Linhardt asked.

“I think he’s more worried about Byleth at the moment… but perhaps that is the case.” Flayn looked nervous. “I’ve never seen Byleth so upset.”

“Do you know what happened?” Linhardt asked.

“My father said that he got a phone call from Principal Rhea from Bernie’s father about his car being wrecked? Apparently three people broke the windows and then threw paint all over the inside. He called the school because the neighbors saw that one of the kids had a Garreg Mach volleyball team hoodie.” Linhardt couldn’t believe that Caspar was stupid enough to leave something like that on… then again, he could. “Byleth and my father managed to stop him from calling the police, but they could get in a lot of trouble if he calls in the authorities instead.”

“That’s why there’s so much tension,” Linhardt said with a whistle. “Well, I don’t understand why I’m being yelled at if it wasn’t my actions.”

“We’re all a team… and you knew about it and the paint,” Flayn pointed out.

“I didn’t know what they were going to do with the paint.” Linhardt shrugged. “Anyhow, do you happen to know where your father keeps information about your grandparents or his? It would be lovely if I could take that home with me… any death certificates?”

“My apologies… what?”

Linhardt had to spend too much time explaining his goal to Flayn, but she seemed to be the most on board with his plan, unlike the other two downstairs. She followed along with his explanation of his own notes and his DNA test coming back with different results, but she didn’t have enough information to offer except for the possibility that they would have papers and photos stored in a box in their attic.

“They would be with my mother’s things, so father would be hesitant to lend them out,” she said, after crossing her legs and sitting back into the pillows. There was a soft knock at the door. “Come in!”

“Since both of you are here, I’ll let you know first.” Byleth stood in the doorway, their arms crossed. They looked unamused, but they had considerably calmed down. Linhardt still thought it would be sensible to run, but there was no other way out of Flayn’s bedroom. “We won’t be having any practices or games until the three who vandalized the vehicle come forward so we can properly punish them.”

“Fair enough,” Linhardt said, which only earned him a dirty look.

“And Seteth said you have to get out of his daughter’s room.” They jabbed their thumb back, motioning him out.

“Well, I will be sure to visit again,” Linhardt promised, standing from the bed. He avoided Seteth and Byleth on the way out, even though the coach looked like they wanted to say more. It was much more effort than he had signed up for, and he hadn’t even left with any valuable information.

Chapter Text

“What did they even do?” Constance asked, playing with her skirt instead of watching Edelgard drive. She had nearly laughed when she saw how far up the girl had to keep her seat in order to reach the pedals, but she knew that Edelgard wouldn’t find it as entertaining as she did. “We all know that Bernie’s father is to be plunged straight to the depths of hell… so why must there be punishment?”

“I wish I could tell you,” Edelgard said, putting on her blinker. Constance had learned that the three who vandalized the man’s car were none other than Caspar, Hubert, and Petra. Caspar wasn’t surprising—the second she heard of the event she had assumed he was a part of it—but hearing that it was Petra and Hubert was shocking. She didn’t believe that Edelgard’s friend was capable of caring that much about any of them, but she was proved pleasantly wrong. “Hubert said Petra is going to crack and tell coach, so practices will likely be resuming this week.”

She knew that Edelgard was beyond upset about missing a full week of practice as well as having to forfeit a game… and even Constance had to admit that the abundance of free time had been wearing on her mental health. Combined with Dorothea being strangely quiet, she had nothing to do except for homework and occasionally watching Balthus’s streams just to have background noise in the apartment. She assumed that it had to do with Bernie’s situation, so she didn’t pry into it.

“Coach’s anger does not appear to run deep,” Constance assured, wanting to reach out, but hesitated. Although they were both becoming better friends because of their shared relationship with Dorothea, it didn’t mean that they were close. Not as close as Constance desired, anyhow.

“Eh, whatever,” Edelgard said, sighing. Her car smelled clean, the air freshener hanging from mirror advertising its lavender scent. Constance was envious with how smoothly the vehicle drove, it made her own seem like a rattling disaster. “Just coffee good, or should we go someplace for a late lunch?”

“I ate at school,” Constance said. “Coffee would be splendid.”

Both of the girls were in the same chemistry class, and Constance had been helping Edelgard with the lab reports. It wasn’t that her captain needed teaching, more like in order for her to get the highest grade there was just small adjustments she had to make to her process. Chemistry had become nearly second nature to Constance, but she could have afforded to learn more about business and finance. It wasn’t like she would have the choice to work in a lab even if she wanted it. She chose to spend as much time around the subject as a structured high school schedule would warrant, quickly becoming the entire department’s favorite. It was always disappointing to see their look when she told them she wouldn’t be able to pursue chemistry in college.

“Hubert likes this place,” Edelgard said as she parked in a spot in front of a quaint cafe. Edelgard turned off her car and hopped out, grabbing her bag from the backseat. Constance mirrored her action and they entered the shop that was filled to the brim with plants that took up every surface that wasn’t a table. The chime at the front called out to them in welcome. “Hubert is very particular in his coffee tastes.”

“Ferdinand had mentioned,” Constance said, but her face turned sour when she mentioned his name. Having to see him every day for practice had been stressful and was wearing her down, but at the very least their assistant captain seemed intent on keeping him in check. Even so, he brought back unpleasant memories and a reminder that now her life was vastly different than his, even when they had been so similar in the past.

“Not a fan?” Edelgard asked, then shook her head. “I don’t believe many are. Let’s grab a table.”

Constance was grateful that she had answered her own question. The woman was wearing a light sweater today, the burgundy color standing out nicely against her silver hair. Spending time with her had been a dream come true for many reasons. It was clear as the autumn day why Dorothea had fallen for her… even though she believed herself to be driven, no one quite got results like Edelgard von Hresvelg. She would see everything through to the end, and it was admirable. Her confidence alone was enough to make something brew deep in Constance’s heart… and it was becoming a struggle to conceal it. All of Dorothea’s talks about loving freely and openly were beginning to get to her, and she couldn’t say the idea was unpleasant.

It took an hour for them to be fully settled with hot drinks, a pastry to share, and their books spread out on a table meant for four. Constance was impressed with how much Edelgard had improved over the two weeks that they had been working with one another, and there was more time in the sessions for them to chat about anything but chemistry. Of course, their topic always seemed to drift back to Dorothea—their girlfriend who always had so much to do and say. That or volleyball—Edelgard explaining how she had been holding extra training sessions with Petra to practice diving for the ball.

“Do you think I could join?” Constance asked and Edelgard’s head shot up, her brows furrowed. “What? Is that such a comical thought?”

“I just… didn’t take you for wanting to spend more time on the court.” Edelgard looked like she was watching her words. Of course, Dorothea had been given extra lessons, but Constance heard second-hand that they definitely did not end with too much volleyball happening.

“I am still becoming accustomed to the court, do not dare underestimate me,” Constance said with a laugh that called the attention of most of the other customers who were absorbed in their own work. “I can put in the effort that is required, I promise you that.”

“Hm, I’ll let you know when Petra and I are practicing next, then.” Edelgard looked pleased and Constance beamed. “Thank you.”

They continued to work in silence, finishing up the analysis portion of a lab that still wasn’t due for another week. Constance realized how much time they were spending on assignments so far in advance, just looking for an excuse to grab lunch or dinner with one another while Dorothea was busy. By the time they had packed up and got back to their car, Constance realized that there would be no more new assignments for a while. No reason for them to be hanging out.

She had to ask her question now.

Constance waited until Edelgard pulled into her apartment complex before turning to ask her what had been on her mind all of the sessions, but she had been too embarrassed to ask.

“Edelgard… by any chance does your father accept internships over the summer?”

“Hm?” Edelgard looked at her quizzically.

“For the company,” Constance clarified. “My part time job does not pay enough to go to school… and it would be splendid if I could work for at the Hresvelg Company like my parents and brother did before the accident. I may not have all of the qualifications but—”

“Then, no.”

Constance’s heart dropped.

Sure, she had been nervous for several reasons: the embarrassment of having to reveal her situation and Edelgard realizing how down on her luck she was, but she never thought she would be denied the chance.

“Why not?” Constance asked, unable to leave it at ‘no.’ Not when she had spent all this time proving herself the past month of volleyball practice and extra chemistry lessons. “I am certainly able to—”

“You just said it yourself, you don’t have all of the qualifications,” Edelgard said. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to give my father a resume that won’t hold any weight.”

Constance felt like she had punched her in the face. “Entry-level office work isn’t out of question! I can reference my teachers and Coach and—”

“Constance, my father isn’t one to accept anyone,” Edelgard said. “I’m sorry… but I’m just not going to bother him about this. He already doesn’t like people asking for favors.”

“What? Are you embarrassed by me? Do you not have any faith that I could do it?”

Edelgard’s eyes darted away, her hand finding its way to the emergency break even though she had already put it up. “I never said that.”

“Then why can’t you just do this one measly favor for me?” Constance could feel the sob rising in her throat, but she pushed them back. She wouldn’t cry at a von Hresvelg’s feet, she refused to.

“Well maybe I just don’t appreciate someone doing their best to get close to me just to get to my father,” Edelgard said, and finally Constance saw the disappointment in her eyes.

Even so, Constance wasn’t able to hold back her own storm of emotions that had taken over.

“And how do you believe that I have been surviving?” Constance asked. “That company of your father’s watched my entire family die and did not protect me! Edelgard… I have nothing. You cannot seriously believe that I would do this just to make things difficult for you?”

“That doesn’t mean you get to hang around me just because you think I can get you a job.”

“You really are saying that I am only here because I want a job?!”

“I don’t know what you’re doing. That could be the situation for all that I know.”

Constance opened the door to the car. She wasn’t going to just sit still and let Edelgard accuse her of false niceties. Even if she had sought the woman out initially for her father’s name, it didn’t mean that things hadn’t changed. At least, she thought they had.

Before Constance could fully get out of the car and grab her bag from the back, both of their phones lit up with a message from Dorothea to their group chat with Bernie. Constance was nearly out of breath from arguing, and she could see that Edelgard’s hands were shaking ever-so-slightly as they gripped the steering wheel. They both wanted to get away from one another, it was clear in how they leaned away, but they were confined to the small vehicle. The door Constance had been about to exit through was left hanging open as they checked their phones.

Constance was ready to ignore the message for the time being until they both saw the words:

Sorry it ’s something important. Please listen.

She felt her breath catch in her chest. The initial text was followed by an audio message that was quite long. It said that Bernie had already opened it. Edelgard grabbed her phone saying, “I don’t have time to deal with all of this, Constance.”

She pressed play and raised the volume for both of them to listen to Dorothea’s message:

“I feel like a bitch just throwing this into a voice memo in a group chat, but I really did not want to have to type this and I wanted to say it over three times even less.” Dorothea paused to laugh, but it didn’t sound like herself. “I’m going to come out to Harold and Mary tonight. I know it’s probably dumb, but I  really don’t want to be lying anymore. I’ve been eighteen for a week now and I just feel like I’ve… overstayed my welcome if they don’t know. I barely have enough saved to be able to get an apartment or something, but I’m mostly throwing this out here in case it happens immediately, then I need to sleep somewhere for a week or so.” Constance felt her heart drop when she heard the whine in her voice—their girlfriend was crying. “That’s all for now, I guess. I love all of you.”

The message was quickly followed up by a text:

“also!! it’s ok to not come out… i dont wanna come off as u have to… just for me, i feel like i have to… lots of love <3”

“Ah,” Edelgard said, stopping Constance from stepping out of her car once and for all. Constance didn’t hesitate getting back in. There was clearly more important things at the moment than her own feelings. “Should we message Bernie first? I feel like she’ll have a better idea about what to do.”

“S-sure,” Constance stuttered out. She felt the anxiety grow instantly, knowing that even the confident and radiant Dorothea could be thrown off so badly. She didn’t know that her girlfriend could be shaken.

It took a bit of time to get a hold of Bernie in a separate chat, but she was stressed out as she explained the situation. Of course, Constance knew most of it: Dorothea’s foster parents were both very religious and she had always assumed that she would be kicked out of their house if she were to come out. Of course, now that she was eighteen she was no longer protected by the system that she had grown up in. The words chilled Constance: it was unfair for Dorothea of all people to not have a stable home to truly flourish in. Unlike her, she was an amazing daughter and one of the sweetest people in existence. She was always watching out for others and making sure that they were comfortable before herself.

“We should probably park nearby tonight if possible,” Edelgard suggested. “We can wait in the car so that she has a way out fast if she needs it. Well… you don’t really have to come if you don’t want to. I can handle it.”

“I want to help—especially for Dorothea. She does so much for me, I can’t just leave her to struggle in the depths of her own feelings while she shoulders mine.” Constance pointed to her bag. “Besides, I have all of my work right here. We can wait in case she needs a quick out, that way we can be sure that she is safe. The last thing we want is for us not to be there when she needs it the most.”

Edelgard nodded. “Then it’s settled.”

They didn’t say much after their agreement. Perhaps it was because both of them were still testing the waters. Wondering how far they had stretched their boundaries just for them to snap like a rubber band. The energy in the car felt terrible as Constance slogged through the reading, barely able to keep her mind from wandering. The last thing she wanted to do in that moment was read Great Expectations. All she wanted was to hold Dorothea and let her know that things were going to work out. Even if her family wasn’t smart enough to accept her for the beautiful, open person she was, Dorothea still had them.

Not hearing from her girlfriend was beginning to wear Edelgard down.

She had parked her car several streets over at a quaint park. It was quiet, the sun already down as both Edelgard and Constance typed away at their own laptops without looking at one another. Neither of them had spoken much apart from shared concern for their girlfriend, but there was nothing else to say. Edelgard wouldn’t be able to comfort her and nothing that Constance could say at the moment would feel genuine.

She was still burning with rage over the request, but it made her hesitate to even ask her how she was feeling in the moment. Constance was upset, curled up in her passenger’s seat without her usual grand countenance. It was unsettling, but she was glad for it. The last thing she would be able to pay attention to at the moment was the girl going on dramatically about the situation.

Edelgard still worried, but her anger kept her from saying anything.

Even when she had finished her homework due for the next day, she continued her assignments in a desperate attempt to not open up a reason for conversation between them. Every ten minutes or so she would double-check that her phone wasn’t set to silent. Without hearing from Dorothea, her mind had time to wander to upsetting possibilities. She wanted to believe that there was no way that her foster family could seriously hurt her, but Edelgard had heard horror stories of coming out gone wrong. The last thing she wanted was for her girlfriend to be injured.

Bernie would anxiously text the two of them for updates, and she didn’t mind letting her know the situation. The person was holed away at home, unable to leave with her father still so angry about his vehicle being destroyed. While Edelgard was no stranger to strict rules, Bernie’s father was something of nightmares.

The car felt too small as they took up the space, their disagreement filling most of it. The world around them had gone dark and it was just them, the street light, and their building tension as they waited for word from their girlfriend.

“Edelgard,” Constance said, and she pretended not to hear immediately before picking her head up. “I just wanted to inform you that—”

Both of their phones buzzed, and Constance’s words died with it. Edelgard fumbled for her phone, not even getting past the message preview before letting out a sigh of relief:

“Everything is good <3”

“Oh thank god,” Edelgard said, relief replacing her anger. She waited a moment to send a heart back before reading the rest of the message from Dorothea, glad to hear that her foster parents had accepted her and even thanked her for telling them… their offer of paying for college and remaining a part of their family was still on the table. They had been a bit confused, but enthusiastic about getting to know their foster daughter and her partners.

“I told them that you both were waiting in the car,” Dorothea had wrote, “and Mary asked you both to come in for dinner. Thank you, really.”

“They want to… meet us?” Constance asked out loud. Her other words had been forgotten, but she look relieved. Edelgard watched as her jaw unclenched and her poised demeanor flowed back into her body. It was something she admired about the girl—the bad always showed clearly in her expression, but it never lasted long. She could always pick herself back up, even if it meant having to prove herself twice as much. “Should we go?”

“I don’t really want to disturb them,” Edelgard admitted. “We’ve never met them.”

“They know who I am,” Constance said. “I spent a good amount of the summer with Dorothea, so they’re used to having me around… I’m just nervous how they’ll treat me now that they know.”

Edelgard had forgotten. It made sense that her foster parents would have a more intimate relationship with Constance, or even Bernie. The two were around more than Edelgard ever had been. The jealousy felt uncomfortable in her stomach, but she pushed forward, turning the car on. Even though she had picked up and dropped off Dorothea more than once, it was Constance who directed her down the back roads to pull into the driveway, the house sitting quaint as ever in the neighborhood. Edelgard didn’t know why she expected something different. Dorothea had phrased coming out in a way that it would be life-altering, but everything seemed calm.

“Shall we?” Constance asked and Edelgard nodded. They both got out of the car, stretching their legs before climbing the stairs to get to the front door. Edelgard lingered behind as Constance rang the doorbell, unsure of what to say or do. It didn’t hurt to have someone else to rely on in the moment.

Edelgard took Constance’s hand instinctively as the door opened, hoping to at least quell some of her fears. When Dorothea opened the door, she looked like a disaster. The mascara she had worn during the day was now resting with the bags under her eyes and her hair was in a fluffy mane around her face.

“Hey,” she said, barely a whisper. “I’m sorry to cause so many problems.”

“There are absolutely no problems, my darling,” Constance announced before dropping Edelgard’s hand and holding her arms out to Dorothea. Their girlfriend essentially fell into her arms, burying her face into Constance’s shoulder. The neighborhood was silent around them and no one else came to the door to check on who the guests were. “There is no need to apologize.”

“I’m so glad it went well,” Edelgard said, feeling like she should have been doing more. She placed her hand on top of Dorothea’s lowered head and gently rubbed at the top of it. “You could have talked to us sooner.”

“I know.” Dorothea’s voice was muffled by Constance’s shirt. It wasn’t necessarily freezing outside, but the girl was shivering, shaking. “I got too in my head about everything and didn’t know how to discuss it. Bernie kind of knew that I was getting into something, but I didn’t tell her what I was planning to do.”

“Well, it is perfectly normal to not know what to say,” Constance assured. Her usual grand voice was slowly returning from after their argument, her assurances warming the girl in her arms. “Your personal feelings are of the utmost importance to us. If this is what we can do to help, we are willing.”

“My cuties…” Dorothea trailed off, hearing footsteps behind her.

Edelgard peeked inside of the house and saw both of Dorothea’s foster parents had joined in the background, watching the scene with gentle (albeit confused) glances. She had only ever met them in passing—always fearful that she would let something about their relationship slip while speaking with them. Edelgard didn’t know how Bernie and Constance managed to hang around the house at all and not be on edge the entire time.

“You have met, but these are my foster parents, Mary and Harold.” Dorothea said, still leaning on Constance as she turned. “Constance and Edelgard are my girlfriends.”

Edelgard had to admit that they both looked like standard older people—about in their late fifties or early sixties. Even so, their expressions were soft as they introduced themselves and invited them all in for dinner. It was an act of kindness that Edelgard rarely experienced at her father’s home, and it was confusing and comforting all the same. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to put all of her tumbling feelings aside for the moment and embrace that Dorothea’s life hadn’t suddenly been brought to an end, even if it was strange to be sitting at a dining table and be open about their situation.

“Now, as the father here,” the man said, helping to bring in plates of pasta for all that were seated, “I do have to warn. If our Dorothea is to get pregn—”

“Harold! They’re lesbians,” Mary chided, pouring a drink for Constance.

“Well, we can’t jump to it not being a possibility,” Dorothea said with a quiet, “Remember?” She was blushing, nonetheless. “Even so, there is nothing you need to worry about.”

Edelgard couldn’t actually believe how easily the LGBT discussion point was going around the table. Even if Mary and Harold were occasionally jumping to wrong conclusions (considering she wasn’t a lesbian), it was refreshing to see them trying. Edelgard had worked up an image of them in her head, of the usual religious conservatives that twitched their eye at two men holding hands. Instead… it was a nice dinner, curious questions aimed at understanding rather than tearing apart their relationship.

“And you two are also girlfriends?” Mary asked, pointing to Edelgard and Constance as they ate.

“Oh, uh, no,” Edelgard said, but she felt the blush spread on her cheeks. She remembered Constance’s words and it made her desires dial down. “All three of us are dating Dorothea… but we aren’t seeing one another.”

“I didn’t mean to pry, honey,” the woman said, “I saw you both holding hands at the door, that is all.”

“Yeah… what was that about?” Dorothea asked. Her voice was tired, but she winked at the two girls, Edelgard’s heart stuttering. “Getting close now, aren’t we?”

“You musn’t assume!” Constance squeaked, but her cheeks, too, were a bright red. The color looked pretty on her, but Edelgard played with her food. She had to remember what Constance really wanted from her—and it wasn’t friendship or something… more.

“Hey,” Dorothea whispered to her, nudging her arm. “Don’t worry about me. It all worked out, didn’t it?”

“You’re right,” Edelgard said, but she adverted her eyes. She knew that Dorothea would be onto them sooner rather than later, but she was hoping that they could disguise it as worry about the other situation for the moment. She didn’t want to admit that the jealousy and messy feelings had already worked their way into the polycule—if anything, it made her feel like she had failed Dorothea. She got into a relationship with her knowing that she would be expected to get along with any other partners she might have, and she had already messed it up. “This dinner is very delicious, thank you so much.”

The dinner went smoothly, everyone’s tension finally dissolving into stories and other anecdotes about the others. Dorothea was still wondering about what had happen with Bernie’s father—and she seemed angry about it. For the time being, she was only able to see Bernie during school hours, especially since practice had been canceled for the week. Edelgard hoped it didn’t read too clearly on her face that she knew exactly what had happened. She told Hubert it wasn’t worth it to help Caspar, but the man had a will of his own. She couldn’t stop him from taking revenge, even though it was a strange thing for him to put so much effort into something like vandalizing a car. As much as she asked him about it, the man wouldn’t relent.

Harold served a desert that he had whipped up—brownies that had been cooking throughout dinner. It was enough that both Constance and Edelgard were smiling by the end of the meal, even if they had began to fade by the time they were putting on their jackets and heading out the door. Both of Dorothea’s foster parents gave them a hug and thanked them for coming, making them promise that they would return with Bernie the next time. It sounded like a good enough plan, as long as Constance was ready to apologize and move on from the internship scheme.

Dorothea followed them out of the door and into the night.

“Do both of you need to talk to me about something?” Dorothea asked, closing the front door behind her for a second. The night was cold, but she was too focused on her two girlfriends on the porch. “You both seemed a bit… off. Like something was wrong.”

“It is nothing you should worry about,” Constance was the first to assure, stepping forward and kissing her. For the first time in a while, Edelgard felt jealousy prickle in her chest. It was all unfair. “I am so glad that everything worked out, love.”

“Sleep well and make sure to keep us updated if things change,” Edelgard said, stepping forward to claim her own kiss. As she did so, Constance dropped her girlfriend’s hand immediately. Usually, they were no strangers to both having their hands on Dorothea at the same time, but now it felt like they were taking turns… not risking getting burnt. Dorothea certainly noticed, but as promised, she didn’t dig. She was the best person in their situation when it came to boundaries, but even she would end up with questions if their behavior persisted throughout the week. At least for now they would be able to disguise it without team practices.

“Goodnight,” Dorothea said with a smile, and she waved as they both got back into Edelgard’s car.

When Edelgard drove Constance home, neither of them said anything. Edelgard could only remember that her teammate was using her to get to her father, and she felt the thought grow like a bad taste on her tongue. She knew that there were people as such in the world, but she had expected more from Constance.

Neither of them said goodnight.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe it was you three,” Dorothea said, waving her hand that was bandaged and splinted. She still wasn’t used to not being able to move it, but it would be fine in a week… maybe two at the most. “Like, I get Caspar… but, Petra?!”

“I was wanting to help,” Petra said, but the girl looked nervous. They were all sitting on the bleachers, in uniform and waiting for the opposing team to show up. It had taken nearly a week, but the culprits in the case had come forward. As promised, none of them got in trouble with the police, but Dorothea didn’t believe that there was any saving them from Byleth. According to her girlfriend, Coach hadn’t even told Hubert’s father about the situation.

“Well, at least Coach isn’t one to be unfair, it will be fine,” Dorothea assured, taking Petra’s hand with her good one, the bandaged one hanging uselessly at her side.

Caspar was about to say something, but he went silent when the gym door opened to reveal Byleth. None of the other teams were in the indoor space for the day, so the entire room faded to silence as they stalked over to the team, a murderous glare in their eyes.

“So, here we are,” Byleth said, prowling in front of the team as they all sat on the bleachers. Dorothea felt a chill run down her spine. All of her teammates were shifting in their seats, apart from Edelgard and Hubert. “I hate that I even have to be having this conversation with you. You’re all smart kids, but what the fuck? First of all, if you’re going to do something illegal, don’t wear a school sweatshirt…”

Dorothea had to catch herself from laughing. The last thing she wanted was Byleth’s rage to turn on her.

“Second, I know that you are all trying to help.” Their face softened. “I thought a lot about this over the past week, because at the end of the day you are all still young. I know breaking shit seems like the best solution, but you need to realize that by trying to help someone recklessly, the only thing you are doing is putting them more at risk. I will be speaking to Hubert, Caspar, and Petra all individually, but as punishment you will not be participating in this next game. I am disappointed in all of your behavior, as well as those who chose to hide information from me—” they looked at Linhardt, and then to Edelgard “—the only thing you have accomplished is making your team struggle on the court. This game, we will only have one substitute player because of the situation.”

“This might be a bad time to mention this,” Dorothea said, wincing. Better to mention it sooner rather than later, but it didn’t feel great. “I’m sitting out for the game today. Doctor’s orders.”

“Why?”

“Oh, it’s my wrist.” She held up an arm to show that it was bandaged.

“How did that happen—”

“You don’t want to know,” Hubert practically growled. Dorothea wanted to throw a wink at him, considering he was the one who drove her to the hospital and had to listen to the story countless times. It had been a wonderful bonding experience.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Byleth said, and she laughed nervously. “What happened? You were fine last practice.”

“Well, Hubie might be right on this one,” Dorothea said, shooting a finger gun with her good hand, as Constance flushed an absolutely vibrant red sitting nearby on the bleachers.

“Oh my god,” Ferdinand said. “Constance broke your—”

“Okay, enough, enough,” Byleth said, raising their voice slightly and waving their hand. “I regret asking, truly.” They said something under their breath, before adding out loud, “The other team is already on their way, so we can’t forfeit. That means no subs and our lineup will be Edelgard, Flayn, Constance, Ferdinand, Linhardt, and Bernie. You will all just have to do your best.”

“L-like, starting?” Bernie asked, shifting in her seat. She was sitting right in front of Dorothea, so she put her hand on her shoulder, doing her best to calm her. “Playing the whole game?”

“Just two games ago you hit the ball, I’m sure you can find it in you,” Byleth said, considering their clipboard once more. “We will certainly be playing at a disadvantage when Edelgard shifts to the front line, but receives will be much easier when she’s in the back.”

“And setting?” Constance asked, still doing her best to bite down her embarrassment. Dorothea wanted to tease her girlfriend a little more, but they had both already dealt enough with it today. What was Dorothea supposed to do… not take advantage of a quiet afternoon with her girlfriend? “Usually Hubert takes cares of directing us.”

“How about…” Byleth looked around. “Ferdinand calls the shots.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Constance said, crossing her arms. Edelgard looked like she was about to argue, but upon hearing Constance’s words, settled back down into her seat. There was certainly something going on between them, but she had yet to draw the truth out of either of them.

“If you have any complaints, file them to the assistant captain,” Byleth said. “Start warming up.”

Byleth walked away and the rest of the team began to get up. Dorothea wrapped her arms around Bernie quickly and kissed the top of her head. “I believe in you.”

“This is going to be terrible,” Bernie said with a pout. Caspar looked like he wanted to say something to her about the ordeal, but he clearly pushed it away and sat silently. Dorothea couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling guilty about what he had done, considering it had put Bernie at risk. She hadn’t talked to her partner about it yet… but it was very clear that the boy had an interest in her. “I can’t even play half a game, why do I have to stay in for the full time?”

“Hey, at least you don’t have to worry too much about this game.” Dorothea pointed out. “There’s no way we’re going to win.”

“That’s not the attitude we want, is it?” Edelgard asked, but there was a playful edge to her words. Less of a challenge and more fooling around. “Dorothea, can I borrow your shirt?” She pulled on the collar of her own. “I can’t wear the libero jersey and I never got one of the regular ones.”

“Sure thing.” Dorothea winked. “Do watch out for Bernie on the court, will you?”

“I’ll ask Ferdinand to make sure no spikes end up aimed in your direction,” she offered. “I… can’t even be mad about this match, if we’re being honest. This had gotten ridiculous.”

“We’ll win a match soon!” Ferdinand called from the court. He had roped a reluctant Linhardt into warm ups. “It’s just a matter of time!”

“I think there’s more to do with it than that,” Dorothea said, giving Bernie another kiss and taking Edelgard’s hand. “Let’s go back to the locker room to change shirts.”

“Not going to give your usual show?” Hubert scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Not for free.” Dorothea called back behind her. “Not going to go out wrecking cars?”

“That was harsh,” Edelgard said with a whistle once they were in the locker room.

“They didn’t think the plan through,” Dorothea said, still upset that it had driven Bernie to hide out for over a week by that point. “Bernie had to deal with the consequences, so yes, I plan to be a little harsh.”

Dorothea pulled the jersey over her head, getting it caught on her splint. She needed her girlfriend’s help to get it completely off. “Did you really hurt it on Constance?”

“I thought it was pretty clear by the Snapchat stories,” Dorothea said with a laugh. Hubert had spent the entire hospital trip lying about what had happened just so he wouldn’t be embarrassed by Dorothea’s injuries. “I was sort of exhausted by the whole ordeal, sorry I didn’t let you know personally.”

“No… it’s okay…”

Dorothea froze, waiting a moment as Edelgard took her shirt off and slid into the black jersey. “It doesn’t sound like it’s okay.” Dorothea waited, but there was nothing. “Do you want to talk about whatever happened between you and Constance?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Your tone betrays your words,” Dorothea said. “I know it’s none of my business, but at the same time… I care about both of you. If it’s jealousy… well, I think we should talk about those feelings instead of letting them grow out of control.”

“I’m not jealous.” Edelgard shook her head.

“Jealousy is only natural. It would be more abnormal if it didn’t bloom given our situation, you don’t need to worry about suppressing it, Edie.”

It looked like for a moment she was going to tell her, but then she shook her head and gave a soft smile. It was a bit forced, but Dorothea couldn’t judge her for hiding secrets—not when she had spent the last few weeks doing the same. “No, nothing is wrong.”

“Whatever suites you.” Dorothea shrugged, looking at herself in the mirror. She turned slightly, catching sight of the back of the shirt. “What do you say? Do I look like a convincing von Hresvelg?”

She laughed when Edelgard left the room without giving a straight answer, hiding her blush to no avail.

“Our priority will be making sure no hard hits are aimed in Bernie’s direction,” Ferdinand said, the players standing in a circle on the court before the match could begin. He had to admit: this wasn’t their best group. Hubert was their third-best player (after himself and Edelgard), Caspar easily their fourth, and Petra had been training hard as of late, not letting the ball touch the ground. Dorothea’s absence would also be a blow for team morale—especially when it came to calming Bernie. “Otherwise, we will follow Coach’s formation and do our best!”

“Don’t be exhausting,” Linhardt said. “How about we follow a more reasonable plan? We can all pretend to play, never hit the ball properly, and this can be over in two sets instead of even attempting a third. The rallies will be short and we will all be happier for it.”

“Both of you shut up,” Edelgard butted in. “I’m still your captain. We don’t have to throw a match because we’re at a disadvantage.”

“That is correct, we have never thrown a match before, even when we should have!” Constance said. Ferdinand watched as Edelgard bristled at the words. The two blondes had seemed at odds with each other as of late, but who wasn’t at odds with their captain, truthfully.

“Ugh, just do your best, everyone.” Edelgard took a step back. “I believe this team is one of the junior varsity teams, so we might still have a chance. Linhardt, remember what Hubert taught you for blocking and spiking, don’t close your fist above the net. Ferdinand, make sure to shield Bernie to give her another layer of defense. Flayn, keep it up with your serve, don’t attempt any above-hand serves—same with you, Constance. Bernie, just keep calm, okay? Assume that if the ball is in the middle of the court, I’ll be able to play the floor and get it up in the air.”

“Um, Coach told me I could call the shots,” Ferdinand said. That was what they had said, wasn’t it? Why was Edelgard always so set on taking control of every situation?

“You aren’t good at setting and you don’t make good decisions on the spot, moving on.”

“Hey! I think I am highly intuitive on the court and—”

“Stop bickering,” Byleth called from the bleachers. “Just play the game.”

“You’re coming with me.” Edelgard grabbed his elbow, leading him to the ref to represent the team for the coin flip. He wrenched his arm from her grip.

“I can walk myself, thank you very much.”

“We don’t have enough people to deal with you acting like this,” she hissed before an audible change in her voice when she was in hearing-range of the competition. “Thank you for coming out here!”

The coin toss went well and they ended up winning the serve, Edelgard walking back triumphantly with the volleyball under her arm. All things considered, Ferdinand was glad that she had brought him over instead of any of the other players. It made him feel like maybe she didn’t hate him quite as much as he thought.

The rest of the team was ready to go once they got back, all of them forming a starting huddle. Edelgard didn’t have any words of encouragement, and when Ferdinand attempted to speak, everyone just broke away and took their starting positions on the court. He sighed, bouncing the ball against the wood floor and prepared to serve once the other team was in position.

He was hoping that his serve could carry the first half of the match like the prior game, but they quickly learned that it wouldn’t be the case. There was a player with an intense aura on their defensive line who was nothing short of brutal, nearly shoving her teammate out of the way to receive the ball. He anticipated where the set would go, but it was still difficult to follow with how fast the ball was flying through the air. A player in the front row got their hands on it, slamming it down at Linhardt, who only managed to deflect it away from his face.

“Next time,” Coach called out, picking up the ball that had bounced out and rolling it to the other team. “Keep your heads up.”

Ferdinand watched as Edelgard got into a ready position at the end of his line, but the server was smart to not serve in her direction. He received the ball, calling out, “Flayn!”

She set the ball up for Linhardt, who gave his best try at spiking it. He was blocked and it ricocheted in Bernie’s direction, who ducked away. Ferdinand sighed, but he couldn’t blame the younger player. It was always difficult to keep a block up in the air.

The next serve dropped in front of Constance, who fumbled to get the ball, but it rolled off of her arms and to the gym floor.

“Try to keep your arms a little more level.” Ferdinand tried to show her how to hold her arms but she rolled her eyes, looking away from him. He didn’t know why she had been so cold—they used to attend parties and banquets together when they were younger. Constance had never treated him like he was a problem, but now she was always stiff around him. “I’m just trying to help you—”

“Pay attention to the game,” Edelgard said, snapping her fingers like he was a dog.

The next serve came in hot, but it curved towards Edelgard. She got it up in the air, and Flayn set it again. This time, Linhardt was able to get enough force on his spike, and they scored the point with only minor difficulty.

Next was Constance’s serve, but she hit the net. Ferdinand turned around, ready to help her with how she was positioning the ball, or even her nerves, but she beat him to the words.

“Cut it out,” Constance snapped at him, turning away from the other side of the net where the opponents were high fiving one another. “Get off of my ass, Ferdinand.”

Her tone was something he hadn’t heard from the woman—even when she was dramatic she never cursed at him. “Sorry? I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

“That’s the problem with you… you’re never trying to be rude, but then you are and you don’t hold yourself accountable. Ever.”

“If you’re going to fight each other, please do it in the parking lot,” Linhardt said.

“Linhardt!” Flayn hit his shoulder. “We should be playing together, as a team.”

“Fine.” Constance crossed her arms. “Get ready for the serve.”

They actually managed to get their serve back with a little bit of luck (or more accurately, bad luck for the other team). They had smooth sailing for a few turns, once they had both him and Linhardt in the front. Their combined height made it easier to prevent spikes, but his hands were beginning to sting. The other team could hit hard, which was impressive but bad for them. If they were able to properly sub in their libero and have their setter—or even their defensive specialist—they might have been able to win.

He didn’t want to admit defeat so early in the set, but things weren’t looking positive.

Bernie hit the ball during a rally, but she effectively sent it backwards. It was their second-to-last hit, so Ferdinand sprinted after the ball, nearly trampling the referee to hit the ball underhand as hard as he could back at the other team. It managed to get over the net, but the same girl from before who wasn’t afraid to knock over her teammates jumped up, spiking it hard against their team. It nearly hit Edelgard in the face and she had to prioritize batting it away instead of getting it back in the air. The player looked smug when the ref whistled, Edelgard cursing and shaking out her hands.

“Are you okay?” Constance asked, her brows furrowing.

“Yeah, just a hard hit,” Edelgard said, wincing, but doing her best not to show it. “And very intentional.”

The last part was muttered while glaring at the other team, particularly the girl who was causing problems. She looked like she was having too much fun, clearly wearing the fact that she made the captain wince as a badge of courage.

“Let me know if you need me to cover any of the dives,” Ferdinand said. He was half expecting a snarky comment from Edelgard, but their libero nodded, readying herself once more.

“Thank you.”

Ferdinand could feel them all being worn down, but he was hoping that they would at least lose with dignity, all of their heads up and trying their best. Bernie looked spooked by Edelgard’s reaction and even Flayn was wearing the same expression. He would do his best to get in the way of the harder hits, not trusting the newer players to properly protect themselves. At the very least, he would be able to project his anger at the opponents, trying to get points in the meantime.

“I’m hesitant to laugh,” Caspar admitted, leaning into Dorothea so that Coach wouldn’t be able to overhear them, “because I know a lot of this is my fault, but watching Ferdinand trying to play three positions at once is hilarious.”

“I think Coach would beat you up if you laughed… but I agree,” Dorothea said with a smile. She still looked a little upset with him about putting Bernie at risk, but Caspar couldn’t blame her. It had taken a while for him to realize why Byleth would take this so seriously… but they were right at the end of the day. Behind the scenes they had been doing as much as they could to help Bernie without getting them in trouble, but all him and the others did was strengthen the security that was placed around her. “I have a bad feeling, though. Do you see that the other team is starting to hit really hard at them?”

Caspar nodded. He had noticed a change in the other team’s play style, likely them attempting to bypass Ferdinand and Edelgard’s control and coverage of the court. While they had been rocky at first, the two of them were running around like madmen, desperately saving each and every rally without needing too much assistance from their teammates. While Constance or Linhardt would spike it occasionally, it was essentially the two of them versus the other team while Flayn maintained the serve. Bernie looked skittish, but she was keeping herself calm as the ball whizzed past her head.

“They’re getting careless,” Caspar said. The front line was hitting the ball as hard as they could—just as Dorothea had pointed out. There was one girl in particular who was smaller, but jumped up into the air and was slamming spike after spike into the back row of their own team. Constance had been stepping in and miraculously saving it from hitting the ground, but even the proud girl was wincing and rubbing at her arms the more she had to receive. The spiker in question had orange hair that was cut into a bob that fell around her face. She had a wicked grin, laughing to her teammates and pointing towards both Flayn and Bernie who were currently on the defensive line. “I think I should bring it up to Coach, it looks like she might be getting some ideas.”

Caspar was in the middle of standing and stepping off of the bleachers to talk to Coach when it happened. The mid player set the ball up and the opponent wailed on it, sending it flying at Flayn. Even though she adjusted and attempted to back up far enough, it was going to land right on the back line of the court.

“Let it!” Byleth called out, but it was too late.

Flayn tried to step back, but even then the ball was coming in too high and too fast. She brought her hands up to deflect it away from her face, but the ball hit her so hard that it and her hands slammed straight into her temple. The sound echoed around the gym, most of the people in the room crying out as if they were hit by the ball. It was a strong thud, and the girl crumpled to the court in a single cry, the ref’s whistle echoing around the gym as the rest of the team surged towards the freshman.

Caspar’s jaw dropped when he saw the girl on the other side high five her friend, and a surge of anger rushed through him. Sure, it was a bad move to vandalize Bernie’s father’s car, but this would totally be worth sitting out the rest of the season for. He was about to stand, but Dorothea put a hand on him and pushed him into the bleachers.

“Oh no you don’t,” she chided.

Caspar watched on helplessly as Flayn curled up into a ball on the ground, her hands holding her head as the rest of the team stood above her. All of their faces were twisted in worry, Edelgard kneeling over her and talking to her in a whisper, smoothing down her hair.

“Step back, give her space,” Byleth said, rushing over in a light jog and also kneeling at their cousin’s side. Caspar’s teammates surprisingly did what they were told without arguing, Byleth telling Constance to get a first aid kit for Flayn from the locker room. She seemed to be stirring, but Caspar wasn’t sure how hard she had been hit—or how soft her head was, for that matter. “Hey, Flayn. You’re with me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Byleth let out a sigh of relief when she followed the instructions, but they didn’t move her at all. Caspar was used to the concussion protocol, but it hurt even more to see the coach go through it with someone as fragile as Flayn. All of the guys he had seen get a concussion had basically hopped up right afterward and had to be convinced to sit back down, but Flayn looked like she was going to cry. It had to have hurt.

“I don’t think we’re going to have a volleyball team anymore,” Hubert said, watching as Byleth handed Ferdinand a cell phone and asked him to call Seteth to make sure he was available. The boy looked rightfully terrified, but held the phone up to his ear and walked away. “Seteth is going to kill us in cold blood.”

“I think there are bigger problems,” Petra said, pointing to Flayn and Byleth in the middle of the court. “Byleth is looking upsetted.”

Caspar had never seen them look so worried, even in the aftermath of their stunt the prior week. They always kept a blank expression, but as they knelt over Flayn and asked her simple questions and made her complete easy tasks, they looked like they were panicking, biting their lip. Ferdinand came back over and said, “Seteth is on his way, he’s probably going to take her to the hospital.”

“That might be for the best,” Byleth said. They spoke softly to Flayn, Caspar barely hearing them from his spot on the bleachers. “Keep your eyes closed, I’m going to have Ferdinand pick you up so you’re not on the floor.”

Caspar thanked whoever was above when Flayn seemed to nod, meaning that she was still aware of her surroundings.

“Do you want to continue the game?” the ref asked as he came over, the other coach lingering behind.

“No,” Byleth said. Ferdinand lifted Flayn gently, the girl clutching onto the front of his shirt. He was even silent, holding Flayn close. “Please put her down on the bleachers until her father gets here.” They turned to the referee, fire burning in their eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It happens in sports—”

“You saw that girl getting more violent every single serve, you should be ashamed of yourself.” Byleth pointed at the coach. “And you call yourself a coach? That kid aimed at my player, fuck you. Everyone, get off of the court,” Byleth said, motioning them all over and putting a protective hand on each of the players’ shoulders that were close enough for them to reach. “Get out of my gym.”

Caspar was nearly captivated by the way that they stood between the other team and theirs, like an animal when a threat got too close to its young. He wasn’t used to having a coach that wanted so badly to protect them—and he had to be honest when he said that he assumed that Byleth was not one of those kinds of people. They always seemed to be looking out for themself first and foremost, but here they were… willing to pick a fight.

Flayn was settled onto the bleachers, laughing weakly at something Ferdinand said as he put her down. At the very least, it would likely be a light injury. Caspar couldn’t say that the repercussions the rest of them would receive from her father would be pretty.

The rest of the team came off the court deafeningly silent, grabbing water bottles that the others offered them. Edelgard’s face was set into a frown as she continuously looked over the the freshman. Caspar motioned for Bernie to come sit with him and Dorothea and he nudged her once she sat down. “Good job out there!”

“Thank you…” she trailed off, the frown set deep in her features. “What’s going to happen to her?”

“She’ll probably be fine,” Dorothea said. “Although Byleth is really angry about it.”

“I do not believe we will live once Seteth figures out what happened,” Ferdinand joined in with the conversation. “He was very angry on the phone.”

“We all need to focus on how Flayn’s doing.” Constance hopped up onto the bleachers herself.

Just then, the gym door swung open full-force, Seteth’s form looming over all of them as he scanned the room, before briskly crossing the space. “What is the meaning of this?”

Chapter Text

“What if she just gets more upset with me?” Edelgard asked, watching as Dorothea cautiously flexed her wrist, stretching it out and looking it over. “…I don’t think you should be moving it so soon.”

“It feels so much better!” Dorothea emphasized her point by attempting to twist it, only wincing. Edelgard was about to step in when she answered the initial question. “It’s your job to right your wrongs. She won’t blame you if you apologize, give her that much, please.”

“Put the splint back on,” Edelgard urged, taking her girlfriend’s hand and sliding the hard fabric back in place. She was paranoid about her hurting herself even more, especially after the Flayn incident at the last game. They had heard frighteningly little about how she was doing, even if Byleth assured them that she was more fine than Seteth was making her out to be. Her tests came back mostly clear, and a single concussion wouldn’t be enough to do lasting damage. “The longer you keep it on, the smoother the healing process will be.”

“Yes, mom,” Dorothea said, but she was teasing. It was the last period of the day, but they wouldn’t have volleyball practice. They were all told that it would be best to take a day or two off to regroup after the accident. Edelgard wouldn’t be surprised if it grew into more. “I won’t go over with you, or else Con will just think it’s one of my schemes to get both of you on the same page.”

“I don’t want to mess this up,” Edelgard said, just as the bell rang. The entire class got up in a single motion, most of them waiting for the moment unlike Edelgard, who could have easily sat still for another hour. “I already hurt her feelings.”

“That’s why you’re apologizing.” Dorothea took her hand in her good one. “I’m proud of you for this, truly. Best of luck.”

With a quick kiss, Edelgard was on her way to the senior hallway in hopes of catching Constance before she packed up to go home. Dorothea had asked both of them to wait for her, as she had to check in with her drama club adviser, anyways, so it would allow them a bit to talk about what happened and for Edelgard to give her the letter.

Speaking of the letter, she dug through her bag to grab it as she was walking. After a long conversation with her father, she came to a pretty easy solution, making her feel even worse about how she had treated Constance.

Down the hall, she saw Constance grabbing her things from her locker, shoving them into her bag with a sigh. Edelgard took a deep breath, hoping that the busy hallway would disguise her hesitation for the most part. It was always difficult to admit she was wrong, but this was someone who she trusted. Someone that she should have never doubted even if it had felt strange in the moment.

“Constance,” Edelgard said, hidden by the door of her locker, “this was supposed to go to your apartment, but I decided that I wanted to be the one to deliver it in person.”

“I told you, I perhaps overstepped my boundaries.” Her tone was still brutal. Constance slammed the door shut, but Edelgard held the letter out to her. The girl frowned at it, burying her hands deep into the pockets of her sweatshirt. The return address gleamed on the envelope: Hresvelg Corporation. “I—”

Constance reached out and took the letter, Edelgard skimming the words as she stood close to her, watching her face light up as she read the first few lines that welcomed her to an internship for the following summer.

“I talked to my father about it,” Edelgard said, her voice quiet. “He would be honored to have the von Nuvelle daughter at his company. All it took was a bit of assurance that you’re a hard worker, which wasn’t very difficult considering your improvements on the court.”

Edelgard wasn’t lying. It had taken a bit of time, but once she found the strength to simply ask her father, he accepted the situation immediately. Constance would likely be making more than most of the other first year interns, her father spurred on by her predicament. Edelgard felt like an asshole that her father was more immediately trusting of Constance than she was… it took a long conversation with Dorothea for her to realize that apologizing would be the first step to building that relationship back up again.

“You said yourself that he doesn’t like taking internship requests—”

“It was something I should have done for you long ago,” Edelgard said, stopping the other girl. “I’m sorry, Constance. I put my own situation over yours and didn’t bother to think it through.”

“Our girlfriend got upset with you?” Constance asked, laughing even though she looked like she might cry.

“All Dorothea said was to think about your perspective,” Edelgard promised. “I also talked it over with my father, so there will be protections in place so you cannot be fired in regards to our relationship. I never want you to feel like you have to maintain a connection with me or Dorothea to protect your income. Also, he was willing to offer remote training so you can start getting paid before school even ends. All of this information is in the letter, but let me know if you need any help. I can always walk you through the process.”

“This is…” Constance closed the letter, putting it back into the envelope. “Thank you. I’m really sorry that you felt like I might be using you. You’re… really a great person to be around and I’ve already missed you.”

“Please don’t apologize for my behavior,” Edelgard shook her head. “I was being self-absorbed and it shouldn’t have come close to this.”

“Can I?” Constance didn’t finish the question, just opened her arms up. Edelgard had to admit, they didn’t even usually hug before they fought, but something about the movement felt right. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Constance’s neck, letting herself sink into the girl. She played with her short hair, breathing in her lilac perfume. Constance? She was not a person she wanted to let go of easily, not by a long shot. “Are we good?”

“Only if you want us to be,” Edelgard whispered, feeling some of the stares from their classmates, but she let them fade into the background. “I don’t mind giving you more time and space if you need it.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Constance said. She pulled away. “I was going to drive Dorothea home today, do you want to come with?”

“Sure,” Edelgard said. “I’ll just let Hubert know.”

“And there are my lovely girlfriends,” Dorothea said, appearing behind them and putting one hand on each of their shoulders. “I’m glad that I see more smiles than frowns. I got my stuff from my adviser, so we should be good to go. Need to finish applying to colleges today.”

“Do you need any help?” Edelgard asked. “We could get it done quickly if we put our minds to it. I can prevent you from getting distracted.”

“Please tell me that’s a joke.” Dorothea leaned into her with her full weight as she staggered. “You? Preventing me from getting distracted?”

“I will also work on a scholarship application, is that better?” Edelgard teased. “And we can help Constance with her application, have an extremely productive afternoon.” She looked to Constance, who was still toying with the envelope in her hand. “Are you in?”

“My apartment is open,” Constance said. Edelgard had to admit she was curious, she had never been to her home. It felt like forgiveness and she even smiled at the news.

“Then it is settled,” Dorothea said, closing Constance’s locker and holding onto both of their hands, one on each side. “Thank you both for trying.”

“No, I had to apologize,” Edelgard said, shaking her head. Dorothea towered over both of them, pushing their way outside of the school. The parking lot had emptied out since they missed the initial rush of traffic while all the upperclassmen attempted to leave at the same time. Fall had completely set in and Edelgard shivered despite her trench coat.

“You two had been hanging out with each other so much… it was such a shame to almost lose that,” Dorothea said. She hummed to herself—it was one of the songs for the musical—before swinging their hands. “Just let me know if either of you want alone time with one another. I’ll be more than happy to arrange that.”

Their girlfriend winked and both of them laughed nervously at Dorothea’s antics.

Edelgard didn’t like her like that… did she?

She had never thought she could be in a relationship with two people at once, but then again just months ago, the idea of dating someone who had other partners seemed like a joke. Now, it was one of the brighter aspects of her life, loved by Dorothea and becoming friends with both of her other partners. None of it felt unnatural, so would it be such a stretch to say she couldn’t fall in love with Constance, as well?

“I feel as if I cannot move my fingers!” Constance exclaimed as a gust of wind nearly knocked them over. “We must move faster.”

She tugged on Dorothea, in turn dragging Edelgard around. They both laughed, letting themselves get pulled along by her.

“I am not believing I can practice today,” Petra said as soon as she sat down at the table during lunch. The words felt unpleasant in her mouth, an echo of what her teacher had told her during first period. At first she had been taken aback, but she had come to the conclusion that he was unfortunately right about her circumstance and she would need to work harder than she had been in school. It would be their first practice since the accident, and she was upset to miss it.

Linhardt didn't pick his head up off of the table, his lunch left uneaten in front of him. Hubert paused picking at his salad to look up at her, Ferdinand still going back and forth from devouring a sandwich and hastily filling out answers in a workbook.

"What do you mean?" Hubert asked, a scowl spreading across his face. "We were going to work on spiking and makings sure your spikes actually hit the court." He sent a pointed look towards Linhardt, but the boy didn't notice.

"You have my apologies." Petra sat down. She wasn't hungry, but she knew the others would force her to eat even if she explained. Flayn would usually sit with her, but it had only been three days after her accident. The doctor said she would be okay, but she had to stay home from school for the first week to make sure the bright lights didn't bother her. "My teacher told me I had to come in for extra lessons."

"Extra lessons?" Ferdinand looked up, proving that he had been listening the entire time. "What in the world could you possibly need lessons in? You help Bernie and Dorothea with their homework all the time and you're only a freshman!"

Petra had thought the same thing, but she just shrugged, taking out an apple from her bag and biting into it. The boys looked bothered by the situation, but let her sit quietly. She really didn't want to burden them with her problems, so she continued to eat the apple despite how terrible it felt in her stomach. If she was talk to anyone about what had happened, she would have told Dorothea, but she was now in practice with her drama club during lunch, especially since volleyball practice took up an hour and a half after school. She didn't want to bother her with such a silly comment by a teacher, anyways. There would be enough time to fix things as long as she carved it out to practice.

Surprisingly, it was Hubert who spoke first.

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Petra lied, but even that made her advert her eyes away from the man. "You do not need to have worry."

"I'm not worried," Hubert assured, Ferdinand hitting his arm. "You are not one to sit and mope, but here you are."

"My apologies."

"Petra... we won't make you talk," Ferdinand butted in, clearly not trusting of what the assistant captain would say next. They worked well together, as much as they wanted to argue about things. They both fit together and made up for where the other lacked. They were like puzzle pieces, Petra had decided within the first few weeks of practice. "There's something wrong. We are here to listen if you need to talk about it."

"Okay," Petra said, clasping her hands together as she let the half-eaten apple rest on a napkin. "One of my teachers has told me I am to fail his course."

"Fail?" Linhardt asked, but he didn't look up.

"Fail," Petra confirmed. It was still a weird word, one that she had never heard in her own language. She was usually at the top of her class, and she thought that going into high school would be no different. Perhaps she had been cocky. There had been clearly an oversight if she found herself in the predicament she was in now.

"So you asked the teacher to help you after school?" Ferdinand asked.

"No." Petra shook her head, her braid tickling the back of her neck as she went through the action. "He was told me—" she grew frustrated and self-conscious of her inability to phrase the sentence. She groaned and nearly joined Linhardt with her head down on the table.

"Take a deep breath, it's okay. We understand you perfectly." Hubert took another bite of his salad, gathering the toppings up onto his fork.

"The teacher told me to stay after," she finally said. "I need more practice or he will be failing me."

"What subject?" Ferdinand asked.

"World history."

Ferdinand frowned at her answer and Petra almost apologized before he asked, "Why would it be in world history? You're amazing with that subject, I saw you basically write Dorothea's essay when you helped her the other day on the way to the game."

Petra nodded, grateful that someone else understood that she was skilled in the subject. It had always been her favorite growing up. Strangely enough, she didn't believe she was doing anything wrong to begin with. All of her papers were exactly what the teacher wanted and she had even put extra work into the last few presentations. None of it, however, seemed to pacify him. All of his comments cumulated into him keeping her after class to talk about her grade before the first quarter was to end.

"So, what's his problem?" Hubert asked.

"He is saying I am not being prepared for the presentations. We have them once a week and he is saying he is unable to understand my words."

"So..." Ferdinand trailed off. "There's nothing wrong with the information that you are presenting? He just doesn't bother to listen to you when you speak?”

“He is doing the listening,” Petra insisted. “My words are not good. I am understanding that—”

“Nope, none of that.” Linhardt finally sat up with yawn next to her. He put a hand over hers, patting it. It was strange… usually he wasn’t one to reassure others physically, but she appreciated the gesture. “I’ve read your work and it’s incredibly succinct. Besides, your speaking is perfectly understandable, that asshole just thinks he can get away with minimum effort. You don’t have to change anything.”

“It sounds like he’s just too lazy to put his own effort into his job. It’s not your responsibility to make sure that he is comfortable or whatever else he spews out,” Ferdinand said. “I’m so sorry that you’re being treated like that by an adult.”

“I cannot believe I am saying this,” Hubert groaned, “but both Linhardt and Ferdinand are correct. This behavior from a teacher is nothing short of inappropriate especially when you speak as clearly as you do. Even if your words weren’t as clear, threatening to fail you when you know the content is an unfair method of grading.”

"Are you sure..." Petra trailed off, but both Hubert and Ferdinand nodded.

"You should bring what he said as well as any other emails or notes he left on your work to your guidance counselor. And if nothing happens there, you can bring it to child studies and they should be sure to help," Ferdinand said.

"If that proves to not be enough to change his behavior, please inform me," Hubert said. "This is foolish behavior from a professional."

“Did you not learn from the last time you were almost arrested?” Ferdinand questioned.

“This time I would refrain from taking Caspar with me, then everything will go smoothly, thank you very much.”

"Thank you," Petra said quietly, before they could get into a fight. "Thank you for your help. You have my gratitude."

"Need to look out for the younger members," Ferdinand assured.

The rest of lunch went by quickly, Petra slowly regaining her appetite. The boys let the conversation drop after she had stopped talking about it and she was grateful. The last thing she wanted was to dwell on what the man had said to her.

"So, practices resume today," Ferdinand said and Hubert rolled his eyes, as if to say "well, duh." It wasn’t the most subtle way to change the conversation, but it made Petra laugh.

"They are already so exhausting," Linhardt said. "We barely have any games left on the schedule, considering Coach refuses to rematch the last team."

"Well, I don't want to go anywhere near them, either," Hubert responded. "Unless if it's to put them back in their places."

"Hubert is defensive over the team," Petra pointed out. "He used to not be as caring."

"None of your business," he dismissed, but his face was still soft. Linhardt put his head back down on the table, ready to resume the afternoon nap at a moment’s notice. Petra wasn't sure how they had gotten to this point, but she was grateful for the companionship nonetheless. They were feeling less like a team… but in a good way. She had no doubts that they would still be her friend after the season had ended and she moved onto other sports, an assurance she held close to her heart.

Caspar wasn’t very good in school.

It wasn’t really his fault, Bernie noted within a few sessions of helping him with geometry homework. The classes were too fast for him and the teachers never took the time to explain things in a way that would help him understand what was happening. Besides, his ADHD made it difficult for him to concentrate on the massive amounts of homework they got every night.

Bernie didn’t mind helping him, if anything it was the opposite. Running through the problems meant she had a chance to review and even when it was something he despised, Caspar was so positive and upbeat about everything that he did. He would get angry when he didn’t understand the numbers or how they arrived at an answer, but he never projected that anger onto others. He kept it held close to him, dissolved it in a few curses under his breath and a sip of water. Bernie would encourage him and backtrack to where things had begun to go awry, working through the steps with the same carefulness he always used with her.

This homework session was similar to most of the other ones, them both finding a corner of the school that wasn't occupied and sitting on the ground, pouring over the worksheets. Garreg Mach could be creepy when there weren't many students there, the halls empty and vast. They could hear sounds from the weight room down the hall and occasionally a student would finish up club or practice and get something from their locker, the sound of the metal door rattling the silence. Bernie had been telling her father that practice ended half an hour after it really did, a detail Byleth was more than happy to vouch for. It gave her more time of freedom, considering he was somehow still okay with her participating in the sport.

It was a strange shift, but it didn't make her forgive him. Even the devil could be kind when he wanted to be and this was no different.

"It's impossible," Caspar said, confidently throwing his pencil to the ground. It bounced on the tile, rolling away from them. "I can't get any better at these kinds of things, it's just not something I can fix."

"It doesn't need fixing," Bernie said quietly, already scanning his answer to see where the numbers had gone wrong. The formula... he had just applied the wrong formula. Caspar got up to get his pencil, while Bernie still pondered over her date with Dorothea the next day. The realization of other things. The fear of her father.

There was a little too much going on that week for her to focus: homework, practice, or otherwise.

Things had been becoming suffocating once more, in the ways that they did before she finally broke down. It was easy to forget about them while Caspar was around, but even today he wasn’t enough to keep her mind off of her problems completely. The thoughts kept wandering back in between equations, the numbers getting jumbled in the maze before they could even appear on paper.

“What’s up?” Caspar’s voice yanked her out of her daze. The grid of the tiles felt imprinted in the back of her mind. “You were staring off into space.”

“Huh, nothing,” Bernie said. Caspar didn’t buy it, but he shrugged, sitting back down close to her. “You used the wrong equation for this problem… do you want me to walk you through how to figure out which equation is the best to use? It can be a bit tricky to figure it out.”

Their knees were touching, Caspar listening intently as she ran through the problem. There were many things to doubt about herself, but at the very least the math was something simple. There was always a right answer that she could arrive at as long as she took the time to work it out. In her own brain, there were things that seemed impossible, just as Caspar had said—something she couldn’t fix.

“Okay, there’s definitely something up,” Caspar said. He put the pencil down, this time gentle so it wouldn’t escape. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong and I know I’m really not the best person to talk to about things, but… I’m here for you, Bernie. You’re really important to me and you have been distracted the last week.”

“I don’t want to bother you with the things swirling in my head,” Bernie said.

“That’s the thing, you’re never a bother.” Caspar scratched at his hair, one of the actions he always did when he was nervous. His eyes looked concerned and Bernie brought her knees to her chest, hugging them close to herself as she stared off at the lockers across the hallway. “I’ll be quiet if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well,” Bernie said, “to tell the truth, things have been a bit… difficult with Dorothea.”

Even those words alone sounded like a betrayal on her lips, it was silly. Dorothea would never want her to hesitate in pointing out something that was bothering her… but as more people joined the equation the scarier it was to speak up. A part of her doubted her girlfriend, was worried that she would simply be thrown away if she proved to cause too much of a problem. If she was trouble, there would really be no reason for Dorothea to see her anymore. Not when she had two other partners right there.

“Oh,” Caspar looked surprised, but he didn’t immediately jump into dismissing her claims, “I’m sorry, Bernie.”

“And then there’s just the stuff at home with my father… he’s still really angry about the car thing and it’s getting to be ridiculous. I’m always under surveillance and I’m just worried that I’m going to slip up and it’s going to be the end.”

The end of what? She didn’t really know. The end of having friends and a sports team and actual happiness in her life, maybe. Maybe simply the end of her own life. At this point, Bernie wasn’t sure if she was being over dramatic about the situation. She had seen the things that he was capable of and not many people knew when a beast like that would finally snap shut.

“About that,” Caspar began, “I know that I already said this, but what I did was really foolish. I’m sorry that I put more pressure on you at home.”

He looked disappointed in himself and Bernie wanted to reach out, but there was still something hovering in the back of her mind, something she had been wanting to say and she was worried that it would be too late.

“Some identity things have been weird lately, too,” she started simply, watching as Caspar listened intently. She looked away. “It’s just been hard. None of this is your fault.”

“Well,” Caspar took a deep breath. It was sweet how he was trying to be consoling, sweet how he had learned not to push her outside of her limits. “Thank you for telling me about all of this, truly. I’ll be honest—I’m a person who immediately wants to fix things and as we learned, I can’t really do that for all of these.”

“It’s okay.”

“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.” His tone was serious, soft for once. “It doesn’t matter if it’s something simple or big… I’m always going to be here for you, Bernie. No matter what it is.”

“I—uh,” Bernie stuttered on the words. She had said it over and over again in her head, but it had still been to no avail. Not to Caspar, not to Dorothea. She knew it would be fine, but a part of her always felt rejection in change, a fear of becoming something else that no one wanted from her.

Then again, it wasn’t anyone else’s job to decide who she was except for hers.

“If you could use she/they pronouns for me… I want to try them out,” Bernie finally said, their eyes still focused on the lockers instead of at the boy next to her. “I want to use them a bit more interchangeably. I’ve always been fine with just she/her, but I’ve been thinking it might be good to experiment and see what I liked to be called.”

She couldn’t bring herself to face Caspar, but he uncrossed his legs and leaned back against the lockers. They almost took back everything they had said until Caspar spoke.

“This is my best friend Bernie and she’s pretty great. They’ve been letting me teach them about volleyball, and in turn they help me with my never-ending math homework. She’s something amazing and I’m glad she trusted me with this.” He turned towards them, a goofy smile across his face. “Does that work?”

“Can I… can I have a hug?” Bernie squeaked out. He pulled them in and they were grateful, because they didn’t want him to see them cry just yet.

Chapter Text

Flayn had underestimated just how boring a week off of school could possibly be.

At first, a rest seemed like a good idea. Perhaps freshman year hadn't been too rough, but some of the classes were still giving her difficulty and volleyball had gotten a little tense when a third of the team had chosen to lead a life of crime.

(At least, that was how her father had put it.)

The ball had hurt, but she didn't think it was enough to send her home for a full week of school. The doctors all agreed that it was just to be safe, but home quickly became boring when her father was at work all day and she couldn't watch screens without risking a blinding headache. It wasn't too bad in moderation, but the house was quiet alone. She considered looking into Linhardt's ancestry papers, but even that strained her eyes.

Byleth would come to check in on her before practice, their light eyes masked in worry and guilt. Even though Flayn had let them know time and time again that it wasn't their fault, they shook their head and apologized for not looking out for her enough on the court. It was unfortunate that they wouldn't accept her forgiveness, but she was grateful for the hour of company they offered. Even Jeralt had stopped by on occasion to keep her company, but he mostly sat in silence as well. Like child like father, she supposed.

Flayn had heard that there wouldn't be many games left, but she was barred from all of them. That wasn't Byleth's decision nor her doctor's, rather it belonged to her father. His overprotective nature had reached a peak, and she would be surprised if she would ever be allowed to walk down the street alone again.

She was shocked when there was a knock on her bedroom door, a cacophony of voices echoing in the hallway. "We kind of have a party," one voice—Caspar—called out.

Flayn was confused. It was about three in the afternoon, meaning her father wasn't out of the office yet, and her friends should have been at volleyball practice.

Flayn got out of bed, tossed a bathrobe over her fish-patterned pajamas, and opened the door.

She was shocked to see so many people: Caspar, Linhardt, Bernie, and Petra were all lined up in the small space, smiling at her.

"We are having your homework," Petra said, holding up an unfortunately large stack of papers. "And we are hoping you are of better feeling!"

"But... my teachers have been emailing all of the work to me." Flayn pointed towards her desk, where she had already gotten about halfway through.

"Yeah, don't tell Seteth that little detail," Caspar said, scratching the back of his head. “We went into his office and lied.”

“You lied to my father?” Flayn asked, before a quiet, “Thank you.”

That made Petra laugh.

“You may come in!” Flayn motioned, pointing to her carpet. “I do not have enough places to sit, but hopefully the rug will be enough. It is pretty comfortable.”

The group of students came in, and Flayn noticed that none of the seniors had come to visit. She wondered if there was a reason for them, but she supposed not everyone would be able to fit in the room, regardless.

"Ah yes, my ancestry papers... have you managed to find anything in your research yet?" Linhardt asked as he caught sight of them on the desk, the packet still open from when she attempted to go through the family trees and pages of genetic material.

"Ancestry?" Bernie asked, their eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Why would you need that from Flayn?"

"Well, would you believe me if I said I'm related to her, Seteth, and Coach?" Linhardt asked.

"I am not believing your lies," Petra said.

"So, how are you feeling?" Bernie asked, looking around curiously as she sat down on the carpet. Petra sat down close to them, Caspar taking a seat at Flayn’s desk instead and playing with the packet of homework he had brought. She was happy that she already had her own printed out, or else it would likely be too bent to actually hand in to the teacher if it was going to spend time in Caspar’s hands.

“Much better.” Flayn nodded. “I’m starting to not feel bad when I look at screens, so I should be able to get back to school next week as planned. How is the team?”

“Byleth is having a meeting of the seniors,” Petra said.

“The student counselors keep on getting into their business and want them to be a life coach instead of a volleyball coach,” Linhardt said, rolling his eyes.

“I think it’s kind of sweet,” Bernie said, picking at a stray fuzz that had gotten lose from the shag rug. They were running their hands through it. They had been more quiet than usual, but still looked confident given the message about their pronouns they had sent a few evenings ago. Flayn was proud of her. “I th-thought Coach hated us for the first few weeks, now it’s coming close to the end and I hope they come back for next year.”

“You’re going to play next year?” Linhardt asked, incredulous. “I’m sure not.”

“Don’t be like that—” Caspar started but his friend raised his hand, which somehow worked.

“I never even wanted to be on this team on the first place, Hubert made me sign the paper. I only stayed because it was convenient.”

“Anyway,” Petra winced, “I will be playing when next year comes.”

“So will I,” Caspar said, still glaring at Linhardt. “At least some of us have had fun.”

“It’s not even structured as a regular high school sport.” Linhardt sighed. “Most of the teams have a game once or twice a week and are actually integrated into other school’s schedules. We have to beg up matches, so we have maybe two games left… no one wants to waste their time.” Flayn watched as Caspar began to interrupt, but Linhardt just yawned and continued. “Now, before you, ‘you haven’t known the triumphs and defeats, the epic highs and lows of high school football’ speech me: listen. This isn’t an actual team and it’s definitely not something that Seteth is going to let us try again after your little stunts.”

“How is all of this my fault?!” Caspar looked angry, but Bernie reached over and put a hand on his knee.

“I didn’t mean you, Caspar, calm down,” Linhardt finished. “I’m just curious why you believe this team can carry on for another year after all the seniors have graduated.”

“Well, I mean,” Caspar stumbled. “We aren’t the seniors.”

“He is in the right,” Petra butted her way back into the conversation. Flayn was grateful, even if Linhardt was just being pessimistic, she always hated to see the two of them fight. Though they were at odds with each other at most times of the day, they were still such great friends. “We are not the seniors. There will still be a chance to be carrying the team for another year.”

“I am unsure if my father will allow me to play another year,” Flayn said and the previous tension dissolved a little. She was glad that Caspar was willing to let the conversation go and not dwell on it the entire visit. “He was already reluctant and even though this is a minor injury and I will be fine as long as I’m careful… he’s always so strict about things. This might have ruined my chances to keep playing with the sports teams.”

“Why is he like this?” Caspar asked, redirecting his anger.

Flayn shrugged. “He’s always been protective over me. It makes sense… my mother died when I was just a baby and I guess in a way I’m the only piece of her he has left.” It felt strange to talk about it with others, but she could trust her teammates. She wasn’t sure if they just thought of her as the freshman… but to her they were friends. She picked a stray thread off of her pajama pants. “He’s scared of losing me, too. Which I understand—I don’t know what I would do without him. Even so, it feels smothering.”

“It’s okay to feel like that,” Bernie spoke up from the carpet. They were playing with the ends of their short hair, pushing it out of their face just to pull it back once again. “Relationship with family is hard, especially since when you’re young it’s not a choice. Even so, I think he needs to give you a bit more space. I cannot speak for you, but he doesn’t seem to have malicious intent… but that’s still just as harmful sometimes.”

“I’m planning to talk to him,” Flayn said with a nod. It felt good that Bernie was willing to listen what she said. So many people were dismissive of her situation because by all means her father was a good father, unaware that he could unintentionally harm her. “Thank you all for listening, truly. And for going out of your way to visit.”

“That’s what teammates are for,” Caspar said pointedly, glaring a Linhardt.

Bernie was quiet when Dorothea picked them up from Flayn’s house.

The weather was rainy and it completely ruined her initial plan. She was going to drive out to a park where there was a big open field and stare up at the stars. Dorothea bought some of Bernie’s favorite candies, found a playlist filled with artists they both liked, and was ready for a peaceful evening. Instead, they got a sky that was too cloudy to actually see the stars and a light drizzle of rain. Dorothea changed plans and drove to a scenic overlook that was off of one of the local highways, high up where it would be quiet. She supposed listening to the rain wasn’t a bad change of pace, even if the original plan had been literally washed out.

Dorothea talked a little about the meeting they had with Byleth. Their coach had been awkward, not really knowing what to say about college plans and entering the work force. They had gone to school on a full athletic scholarship, so knew nothing about how to explain the process or encourage Edelgard even though she had been rejected from one of her schools already early in the year. Her girlfriend had been on edge about it, but the coach rolled their eyes and said any school that didn’t accept her was stupid and not worth her time, no questions asked.

The rest of the meeting was more aimed at the future of the team. As seniors, they had voted who they would choose to be captain for the following year—a unanimous vote for Caspar. The assistant captain would be up to him, but Coach seemed satisfied with the conclusion they had come to. Dorothea was a fan of the boy—he was truly kind even if he was louder than most of their team combined (she supposed, that would not be including Ferdinand or Constance). Bernie smiled at the news, but then faded back into a nervous jitter that Dorothea found herself frowning at.

Dorothea swayed to the music, tapping her fingers against her steering wheel as she tried to talk to her partner. Bernie was barely touching their candy. The space between them was awkward in a way that it hadn’t been since they had met. Bernie wasn’t sharing whatever was on her mind, but she continued to try to make conversation. Dorothea thought that they would warm up to the conversation, but Bernie stared out the window instead of at her. Before Dorothea could ask what was wrong, Bernie took her face into her hands and kissed her.

She laughed, pulling away a moment before letting Bernie pull her back in. She wondered for a moment if they had just been nervous to be alone for the first time in a while. That was something that happened commonly, so Dorothea relaxed and instead focused on the person in front of her over assumptions.

It was strange when Bernie tugged on the collar of her shirt, nearly choking her. Dorothea wasn’t used to Bernie being so rough, but the kiss felt good and she didn’t mind when she felt Bernie shifting in her seat, climbing over the console.

When Bernie pulled herself onto Dorothea’s lap, she could feel how tense her partner was. Whereas the straddling action was second nature to Constance or Edelgard, the person now in front of her was trembling. She didn’t think it was due to lack of experience, either.

Even so, Bernie persevered, continuing to tug at the sweatshirt Dorothea was wearing. Dorothea helped them, pulling it off so that she was just in her bra. Something wasn’t matching up, the rain beginning to beat harder on the windshield. Bernie had never wanted something sexual from her—and it wouldn’t have been a problem if they did—just it felt strange that they would go so out of their comfort zone to seduce her in a car.

Dorothea pulled her lips away gently, bringing her hands up to a much more tame position of Bernie’s upper arms. She was breathing heavily, but she had to think clearly. Think far past the current situation and actually discuss the feelings that were swirling like a storm around them. When Bernie attempted to seal the kiss again, Dorothea just shook her head and steadied them.

“Hey,” Dorothea started simple. “Let’s talk.”

“I-is,” Bernie started, “this not okay? I thought—”

“Oh, this is wonderful, Bern,” Dorothea assured, making sure that they knew she wasn’t upset in the slightest, just worried. “You just feel really tense… like you don’t want to do this.”

“I want to do this,” Bernie said, but it wasn’t convincing. Their eyes wouldn’t meet Dorothea’s and they shrunk back in their more advantageous position.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Dorothea assured. “And right now I don’t. I’m worried about you and would like to talk about what’s going on, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re going to hate me,” Bernie whimpered and Dorothea’s heart broke. “Just let me do this for you.”

“No,” Dorothea said, this time putting force behind her words. “Bernie. We don’t have to talk about what’s bothering you, but know that anything you say isn’t going to make me hate you. You’re my partner.”

“O-okay.”

“Say whatever you need… don’t feel the need to hold back.”

Dorothea’s stomach sank even as she said the words, knowing that there had to be something severely bothering her.

“Wh-when it comes down to it,” Bernie said. Dorothea felt terrible as she watched her partner fall apart in front of her—wanting to do anything to stop her from crumbling completely. “Constance and Edelgard make sense for you. They’re clearly your type: they’re ambitious and blonde and pretty and you have lots of sex. And n-none of this is bad… it’s just something I can’t be for you.”

Dorothea felt the panic seize her breath, but she did her best to push it away for Bernie’s sake. They looked distraught and torn to pieces… and she had done it. Somewhere she had miscommunicated her feelings and they all culminated in Bernie thinking that they weren’t enough. She felt like everything was going too fast, swirling around her.

“A-and I thought that maybe if I could just try to be at least a bit like them… you wouldn’t grow sick of me,” Bernie said, finishing with a nervous laugh. “But I’m not cut out for this. I’m sorry.”

“Bernie,” Dorothea said, as soft as she could manage. “Can I please say something?”

“O-of course.”

Dorothea felt Bernie stiffen, and she knew that her partner thought that she was about to break up with her. She never wanted something like this to happen again—but it was just a part of their relationship, wasn’t it? The nature of it all was that without communication it was easy to get lost. And here they were… so far from the path without even noticing that their feet had left the pavement.

“I love you very much… and I’m the one who needs to apologize. I assume this happened because there was miscommunication and that’s probably because I’ve been too busy to check in properly. I should have been more attentive to your feelings, but I was distracted by settling in with my new partners.”

“That’s understandable, though,” Bernie said. They had their head down, playing with their nails. “You deserve time to figure out those bonds.”

Dorothea nodded. “Even so, I don’t think I was good at spelling it out clearly enough. The reason I love you and the reason I love Edelgard or Constance? They’re all different even if some parts overlap. While they may have similar aspects of their personality that match up, it doesn’t mean I love you any less. If anything, it’s nice that I don’t have to worry about sex when I’m with you… it’s been hard to keep up with two sexual relationships.” She thought back to Edelgard being upset by her injury, but how the two girls had begun to get along. “And if you ever wanted to explore things with me, I would be more than willing. But if that never comes, you’re asexuality is something I respect. And I love you for it. So please don’t try to change for the sake of me—I don’t need a single partner to fulfill all parts of my life and I hope that I’m not also the only person trying to balance all your needs.

“I love you,” Dorothea said again, holding her close. “I love you so fucking much. And it’s because you are you, not because you’re either of my girlfriends.”

“I’m sorry,” Bernie finally said, tears filling in her eyes. “I know—I know these things. I just got all caught up and I—”

Dorothea kissed her forehead. “I love you. I’m glad we talked and I want you to keep talking if there’s anything else.”

Bernie leaned forward again, this time throwing their arms around Dorothea’s neck and burying her face in her shoulder. Dorothea was still without a shirt, but she didn’t mind as she cradled her partner, breathing deeply, herself. She was sure they would have to follow up the conversation, but things seem mended in the moment.

“Dorothea?” Their voice was quiet.

“Yes, love?”

“I really like Caspar,” Bernie admitted. It wasn’t a surprise to Dorothea, but she rubbed their back and ran a hand through their hair. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too. And,” Dorothea smirked, “I think you should go for it. You two are very adorable together.”

The rest of the night went by much smoother, the raindrops soothing their burning thoughts.

Hubert had insisted that there was no need to be running stage makeup tests for Hamlet so early, but Ferdinand said that Dorothea was insistent on the timing. He didn’t have the heart to tell the boy that this was just an extension of Dorothea’s teasing, so now they were on the floor of his bathroom, Ferdinand digging for products in a small bag of makeup. Their teammate had pulled them aside after their meeting with Byleth and set them up to hang out, regardless of whether Hubert wanted to or not.

“How do you know how to do this?” he asked as Ferdinand ran a brush across his skin. The foundation was cold and it tickled as Ferdinand blended. He had his eyes closed, per his request. It felt strange against his skin, but he was getting used to Ferdinand’s fingers gently moving his face into position.

“Well,” he hesitated, “I used to play with my mother’s makeup when I was young. I think it looks pretty.”

“Strange.”

“Oh.”

“Not in a bad way,” Hubert amended, opening his eyes. Ferdinand’s cheeks were flushed a violent shade of pink. He felt terrible for even letting himself speak the words. He was so used to teasing Ferdinand that he forgot that there were things that he was sensitive about. “It’s very you, Ferdinand.”

“You can say that it’s weird.” He put away the foundation brush, pulling out one that was slightly different, but he didn’t know what kind of difference it would make. Hubert had only watched Edelgard do her makeup and she wasn’t picky about what brushes she used. Ferdinand worked with the palettes with patience, matching pigment to brush shape in a careful dance. “Boys aren’t supposed to like this kind of stuff.”

“Like what you want,” Hubert said as the other sized up his face. “If this makes you happy, why limit yourself?”

“This will help with the cheekbones, Dorothea said you have to look gaunt,” Ferdinand said, not responding to Hubert’s words, but a gentle smiled graced his lips. “Purse your lips—like a fish.”

“What’s that?” Hubert asked, pointing to the compact Ferdinand had in his hands. He didn’t necessarily care, but he owed it to his teammate. It was nice to see his face light up.

“Bronzer, but we can ask Dorothea if she thinks we should do a contour.” He waited for Hubert to purse his lips before using the fluffier brush to apply the product. “You don’t need too much to accentuate, especially because you already have a sharp face. If I was doing someone like Dorothea’s makeup, since she had more of a round face, you really have to paint on the illusion and add shape.”

“I see,” Hubert responded. He let Ferdinand continue without additional comments, content with waiting patiently. There was a certain intimacy in closing his eyes and letting Ferdinand’s decisions control the outcome of his appearance. He could see why someone would like makeup—it was just like painting on a canvas. Bringing art to life.

By the time that he was done, Hubert didn’t recognize himself in the mirror. Ferdinand had done a wonderful job selling the illusion. He could see himself on stage, delivering the lines that Dorothea had began texting him sarcastically every morning. It looked amazing in a way that he never thought would suit him. It certainly wasn’t something he would wear out on the street, but it would leave a lasting impression.

“Do you like it?” Ferdinand asked nervously. He looked timid, even as he was looking over his handiwork. “I know it looks severe, but that’s because people in the back also need to see the contrast. Since it’s a stage and all.”

“It looks amazing,” Hubert commended. He looked down at the rest of the bin that Ferdinand kept his makeup in. It was a lot for someone who couldn’t wear it outside of the bathroom itself. Hubert for a moment realized how much Ferdinand had to love it to practice with no aim. It was a shame to keep all of the products hidden away. “Show me how you do your own makeup.”

“What?” Ferdinand asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I want to see what you do, Ferdinand. What kind of makeup would you do if you could go out?”

Ferdinand blushed, but he nodded slowly, a smile taking hold of his expression. Hubert wondered if anyone had ever asked him to see his work. Dorothea had to know about it one way or another, but it still felt like something special as Ferdinand picked up a brush.

It was captivating to watch Ferdinand apply his own makeup, the colors shining vibrantly on his skin. He turned so he could face the mirror, leaning forward to observe the details up close. He defaulted towards the pinks and light reds, colors that brought out his eyes. He took his time blending, all of the foundation and contouring melting into his natural tones.

 While Hubert’s was meant for the stage, Ferdinand looked like he could be on the front of a cover of a magazine. The tinges of pink on his cheeks went with the gloss that he applied to his lips. It was all skillful and beautiful to watch. Ferdinand was quiet as he did his own makeup, the rest of the house as well. He would have never risked playing dress-up if either of his parents were home. Hubert knew that he wasn’t straight, but he was unsure if he had ever been in a relationship. As a von Aegir, such things had to be kept hidden away. Much like the von Vestra’s… there was no room for such “foolishness.” There were bigger things in the works and they couldn’t have sons that wanted to kiss other boys and wear makeup.

Hubert wished he had the opportunity to wear it confidently outside of his house. He understood why it would be difficult, but… watching his concentration as he applied mascara brought him to mourn the loss of the Ferdinand that could be. He deserved to be confident in his true self, not just his idolized version that he projected day in and day out.

The final touch to his look was winged eyeliner, his fingers as steady as a surgeon’s as he brought the felt tip across his lash line. He was concentrating the entire time in silence, but his and Hubert’s eyes kept catching in the mirror. The mirror ran all the way to the floor, both of them still sitting cross legged on the fluffy bathmat. Ferdinand put down the eyeliner, looking himself over one more time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. His eyelashes fluttered as he looked at his own work, a countenance of satisfaction crossing his face.

Without thinking, Hubert brought his palm to his friend’s cheek and turned him so they were facing one another. Ferdinand’s eyes were wide and he hesitantly breathed in, watching and waiting for Hubert to make the first move.

To kiss this man would be forsaking all that their fathers’ had put out for them.

Then, he pressed his lips to Ferdinand’s and suddenly he couldn’t care less about who they were supposed to be. Just like it had been watching Ferdinand apply makeup—this felt right. It felt intentional and special, like everything that year had been leading up to them finally colliding.

Ferdinand brought his hands up to Hubert’s shoulders, before tangling his fingers in his hair. It was pleasant, despite Hubert’s usual displeasure over others touching him. Ferdinand pulled himself into Hubert’s lap and he grabbed the redhead’s waist, steadying him. Hubert could feel his lip gloss on his own lips, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. Something stirred inside him at the idea of smudging a brighter lipstick… watching it get messier on Ferdinand’s skin.

Ferdinand pulled away, flustered. “Hubert.”

“Yes?”

For once, he was actually speechless and Hubert chuckled as he just shrugged off whatever thoughts he had to kiss him again. He felt surprisingly soft despite all his muscle and Hubert wanted more.

His father would have a heart attack if he ever knew, but it served him right. This is what Hubert was meant to be—or at least a very small part of it. He had always envied Edelgard’s ability to accept herself, but now he was able to claim his identity without worry.

“I guess you liked the makeup?” Ferdinand asked as he pulled away again. He was laughing as he tapped his forehead against Hubert’s.

“Shut up.” Hubert kissed his jaw, lingering there. His shampoo smelled sweet. “Do not speak of this to anyone.”

“Gotcha,” Ferdinand muttered, his breath stuttering when Hubert kissed his neck. “Do I have to do your makeup in exchange for a kiss…? Or can I just ask for a—”

“Please,” Hubert said, looking him in the eyes. “Talk less, Ferdinand.”

This time, when their lips met halfway, Ferdinand actually obeyed.

Chapter Text

Linhardt frowned when he got the message from Edelgard that there wasn’t going to be practice after school. Apparently Byleth had something to do with their hockey team (the season had just begun, even though the fall sports were still remaining) and half of the seniors weren't going to make it, anyway. It was a shame, but there was nothing to be done about it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Caspar said as he looked up from his phone. They were lingering in the library with Dorothea, all three of them trying to get work done during study hall.

Well, if work could be considered taking a nap, looking at college volleyball stats, and starting an Amazon list for college furnishings.

Caspar continued to look at him incredulously, even after he had put his head back down. The library was silent, so even Caspar's attempts to be quiet were way too loud. "Was that just disappointment I saw on your face?!"

"What else am I going to do after school?" Linhardt asked, more to himself than anything. Even though practice had to be bothersome sometimes, it had become ingrained in his routine. He would go to practice after school for an hour and a half, do more ancestry work (thank you, Seteth, for actually filling out the packet), and then if he was feeling like it he would sometimes do homework, but more likely than not he ended up sleeping. He had to admit that volleyball helped get his mind in order to sit at his desk for hours, his focus especially improving when he had exercised before-hand. Without it, he found himself getting irritable and it was more difficult to sit still at his desk. "Now getting work done is going to be much more annoying."

"Sounds like someone likes the sport that he's playing," Dorothea chimed. She was looking at dark red sheets, switching back and forth between two tabs to see which color was exactly what she wanted. Last Linhardt had heard, she was going to the same school that Ferdinand was attending. She had gotten in with a sizable scholarship, because at the end of the day, Dorothea was a hard worker. "Watch out, the next thing you know we'll see you in the gym with us."

She added a wink and Linhardt sighed. "Nothing is going to get me into a gym."

"Why were you looking so sad, then?" Caspar insisted and Linhardt just sighed, shifting his head so that the rambunctious boy wasn't in his line of sight. "Face it, you want to continue playing volleyball."

"It's just a matter of give and take," Linhardt tried to explain. "When I go to practice it's exhausting and stupid beyond belief, but then I work better when I get home that adds hours to my research."

"That's what exercise does!" Caspar insisted. "Doesn't it feel nice? It really helps."

Linhardt wouldn't say really, necessarily, but it certainly made things much more bearable at his desk. He also was sure that it wasn’t tacked up to exclusively volleyball. He could do any other exercise and it would have the same effect—but the thought of having to learn a different sport or how to lift weights seemed like even more of a problem. No, he would like to stick to volleyball if he had the opportunity—not that there was likely going to be a team next year.

The idea of losing the extra boost to his research made him upset, but there wasn’t anything that they could do about it. They wouldn’t be able to gain enough interest in the sport even if they tried—and the idea of tabling for freshmen sounded miserable. Even so…

“Be my assistant captain,” Caspar said, yanking him from his thoughts. “It would be the one thing you could do to ensure we have a team next year.”

“I cannot believe you are asking me again,” Linhardt said with a yawn. It had only been two weeks since Caspar was appointed future captain and he continued to harass him everyday about joining him in the clownery. “Ask Bernie.”

“They wouldn’t want to be in charge of anything,” Caspar assured, which had been his answer every time. “Linhardt, it can only be you. I want to do this and I know that you also want to.”

“It’s pretty compelling,” Dorothea added, although her commentary wasn’t going to sway him. She could convince anyone to do anything (his reference point: Hubert and Hamlet), so he couldn’t afford to listen to anything she had to say. Rather, he packed up his things before the bell could ring, intent on being the first one in the lab room to check on the experiments that they had left overnight. “Think about it Linhardt. Especially if you find it as helpful as you say—it would be worth it to help the others keep the team going.”

He got up and left the second the bell rang, ignoring Caspar calling after him and telling him that he was just being lazy.

Laziness had nothing to do with it—how would he be able to help the team? It made no sense, really. Not in the slightest. Even Edelgard and Hubert were barely able to throw together a full team and they were much more prepared and charismatic than he could ever hope to be.

Linhardt’s steps faltered on the way to class. Would they really not be able to play next year?

It was already a poor practice from the beginning. Co-ed teams were nowhere near as popular as gendered ones—but they would be able to get into the boys’ bracket with a bit of arguments, he believed. If they went to each of the schools, he was sure that they could be convinced to add them to the schedule for an easy win at the very least. And would they even be an easy win? Linhardt was sure if they practiced throughout the rest of the school year and summer—as well as get back some of the previous members—they would be able to hold their own on the court. Even if he had to take over spiking, they would have a much more solid team composition than what they had now.

…he wasn’t considering it, was he?

“This is a stupid waste of time,” he said out loud, as if it would throw the idea right out of the window. He arrived in the lab just as the teacher arrived. He said his hello and went straight to his lab table, beginning to get to work setting up the microscope. The room was quiet and he gave himself a moment to compose himself and get all thoughts of volleyball out of his head. Would he play again next year if Caspar managed to find the correct amount of players? Yes, it would be more of a nuisance to quit. Would he help him? Absolutely not, it wouldn’t be worth the time.

“Um, excuse me!” a small voice interrupted his thoughts. At first he thought there was no way that the freshman girl in his class could be talking to him, so he ignored it. Even so, when he looked up she was at his otherwise empty table. “You’re Linhardt, right?”

“The one and only,” he said. He grabbed the petri dish carefully, not wanting to tip the contents inside. He was about to slip it under the microscope, but the girl continued to stand at his table. “Did you need help with the lab work? I guess I can aid you with the equipment, but I’m busy because I ran more than one test group—”

“Oh, not about that.” The girl shook her head. She was bubbly, her blonde hair braided back and eyes sparkling. “You play on the volleyball team, right?”

Linhardt almost said “no” just so that he could move on with his day, but she looked too hopeful for him to simply crush her dreams. “Yes.”

“My brother and I saw a bit of your game the other day! He’s on field hockey and had to find some of the equipment in the gym—but it’s really cool that you started the volleyball team again. I was considering joining, but I got scared when I heard about the accidents that happened last year—” this girl could talk, that was for sure “—you all looked so cool! I’m going to join next year if there’s still a team!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t talk to me about that,” Linhardt said, but he took out his phone once he saw her face fall, “Here, I’ll give you our future captain’s number. He’ll be able to help you out and talk to you about summer practices and all.”

Linhardt sighed when he finally got the girl away from him. He would be able to work on his project in peace, thankfully, but not before he messaged Caspar:

“Some girl wanted to join volleyball, I gave her your number.”

He thought for a second, but rolling his eyes and typing out:

“I’m in for assistant captain.”

Constance brought her hair back on both sides, tying them into small space buns since the rest of her hair was too short to be gathered into a ponytail. She looked herself over in the mirror, her small frame already a bit more toned from working out with the captain. It would be difficult to continue playing volleyball after graduating—club sports tended to be expensive in their area, especially one that required a gym more often than not—but something like weightlifting was in the realm of possibility. It would give her an excuse to get out of the house when Dorothea wasn’t there to drag her out.

She was happy for Dorothea, but watching her girlfriend go away for college was going to be hard, even if it was just a few hours away.

“Constance,” Edelgard called out as she joined her in the weight room. The area wasn’t filled, but it certainly wasn’t empty—mostly football players used it on and off season, but there was now the addition of some hockey players. Both Yuri and Hapi were on their team, but Constance still didn’t know any of their teammates just yet except for a quiet boy named Ashe who would hang out with them from time to time. “How are you feeling today?”

“Still sore,” Constance said, pulling herself away from the mirror. The captain was much more fit than her and at ease to wear leggings and a sports bra even in front of the boys that filled the room. To be fair, they learned early on that ogling at Edelgard wasn’t a choice—they would either end up with her kicking their asses, Hubert casually threatening their lives, or Dorothea making fun of their own appearances. Constance would be terrified to do it, herself, even though it was always tempting.

“Don’t worry, it will start to get easier soon,” Edelgard promised. They headed over to the mat to stretch, Constance following through Edelgard’s routine. Ferdinand had offered a few times to help her with the gym, but she felt much more at ease with their captain. Even though it wasn’t Ferdinand’s fault necessarily, it hurt when he suddenly deemed himself too good for her following her family’s deaths. He could have checked in, but he didn’t. They were becoming closer, surely, through volleyball, but she wasn’t sure if the tension would resolve just yet. Even so, they would have to work with each other over the summer along with Hubert and Edelgard, so she didn’t have much of a choice.

“Here, shoulders back a bit more.” She didn’t even realize that Edelgard had moved behind her, pressing her shoulders back as she stretched. Constance felt the sting, but it certainly hit the muscle that had been aching. “Is it alright if I touch?”

The question for permission made her shiver and Constance nodded, letting Edelgard press her palms into her back to assist her with the stretches. The captain laughed when she whined at one spot in particular and her fingers dug in, working out a knot. “Why must exercise curse your muscles with such pain?”

“That’s how you know it’s working,” Edelgard said with another laugh. It was good to know that they were back on good terms, even though the misunderstandings nearly threw the relationship straight out the window. At the end of the day, they both had to be a little more patient with each other. “How do you feel about the bench today?”

They got to work, claiming one of the benches for their own and wiping it down to guarantee that it was clean. Constance was still only able to lift the bar, and whenever it was Edelgard’s turn she had to get extra help to spot. Edelgard never pushed herself too hard when it came to the bench presses, but she also took gym safety seriously. They would normally be able to call their classmate, Ingrid, away from her friends to help them for a few minutes.

Constance would lie on the bench, looking up to Edelgard as she readied herself to take on the weight. The bar was always lighter than she expected, but she wasn’t ready to add extra weights to the end of it just yet. The last thing she wanted to do was make a fool out of herself in front of so many people who were much stronger than her.

“Balthus keeps asking me to join his boxing gym—calls himself the veritable King of Grappling,” Constance said as she pushed the bar into the air once more. She knew that she would be able to lift more weight than just the bar, but her captain wanted to show her how to properly do the reps so she wouldn’t get hurt. They were always chatty at the beginning of their workout, but they would grow quiet the tireder they got. Well, more accurately, Constance would get tired and Edelgard wasn’t much a talker if there was no one to encourage conversation. Even Dorothea would be silent by the end whenever she was able to join them. It was impressive.

“Honestly, I think you have the fighting spirit in you,” Edelgard said with a laugh as she continued to hover over Constance, spotting her. “I think you should do it.”

“I would just get destroyed. Have I ever shown you Balthus?!”

“At first, maybe,” Edelgard said. Her hair today was tied into a side ponytail. Her eyes were particularly bright that day, as well, glistening with possibilities. She had gotten into her second choice of university, and it was local, as well. Only half an hour away so she would still be able to work at the Hresvelg Corporation part time during the school year. Constance was happy for her, and also happy that she would likely still be able to stay close. “You would kick their asses, though. You’re determined to improve in everything and you’re quick.” She motioned to the weights. “And soon you’ll be powerful. Don’t count yourself out just yet. I would love to see you in the ring.”

Constance knew that Edelgard could see her blushing, but maybe she would just chalk it up to overheating from the weightlifting.

They didn’t stay long, both of them wanting to finish so they could shower before heading to Dorothea’s for a movie. It was fun having a chance to hang out as the three of them. Sometimes it felt like they were more of a triad than anything and Constance wanted it more than she would care to admit. Either way, she would be fine with staying friends with Edelgard or their relationship becoming something more.

“You have my gratitude, once more,” Constance said as they made their way to their cars. The parking lot was nearly empty, making them easy to pick out in the distance as they walked down the hill. Her arms were aching, but she knew if she just made it home and to the shower, Dorothea would be more than happy to relieve some of the pain. “I know it must be a drag for your workout partner to be so out of shape.”

“Not at all, I like teaching,” Edelgard said. “And I should be thanking you more than anything. I have such a pretty woman telling me I’m doing a good job, what else would I be asking for?”

Constance surely didn’t know what to do with that information. She laced her fingers as they continued, stopping at Edelgard’s car that was closer in the lot. The gloomy part of her wanted to say that there was no way that the captain was flirting with her. There was the small, hopeful part that let her dream.

She let it take control just for the moment.

“What are we?” Constance asked. She had wanted to voice her question long before they fought. She wanted to voice it every time they ran into each other at school and every practice. “Because Dorothea gave me permission to see whoever I pleased.”

She knew that her cheeks were burning, but she stood up straight.

Edelgard toyed with the sleeves of her sweatshirt for a moment, leaning back against her car door. She looked radiant, even after an hour long workout. “What would you say if I wanted to be something more?”

Constance felt her heart jump and she smiled despite the anxiety. There would always be the dark part of her brain that wanted nothing to do with happiness, but for once it was easy to shove it aside and pack it away.

“I would love to,” Constance said, trying to play it cool, but she knew she was failing. She laughed at herself, despite it all. “I’m acting like an idiot, can we just kiss?”

That brought Edelgard to laughter as well. “Neither of us can be Dorothea, can we?”

“For the better,” Constance assured, taking her hands. “You’re answer?”

Edelgard kissed her and the air felt like electric around them.

“There will also be,” a teacher droned on, Caspar half-asleep in the back of the classroom, “a volleyball tournament open to all students at the end of this month. All proceeds will go to the junior class and—”

“Volleyball tournament?” Caspar yelled out, quickly followed by his hand shooting into the air. It was the first thing that interested him all class and surely would be the last, if he was to be completely honest. The teacher sighed at him—used to his antics—and waved the flier.

“Will you let me finish?”

There was a few snickers from the rest of the class, but Caspar ignored them. He was known in class for being loud and not the best worker, but if anything the other students seemed to look forward to his outbursts as a way to stall time.

“Sure, go ahead,” Caspar said, waving his hand at her.

“The team requirement is eight to ten students and they can be from any grade. A form must be handed into the front office with all the students’ names as well as five dollars per player. Are there any questions?”

“Yes.” Caspar continued to hold his hand in the air. “Is it okay if people on the volleyball team sign up?”

“We have a volleyball team?” the teacher asked. Caspar would have let it bother him at any other time, but there was no room to be annoyed.

This was going to be their chance.

“Can I go to the bathroom?” Caspar didn’t wait for the answer from the teacher who clearly knew he wasn’t going to the bathroom when he gathered his books into his bag and stood up. “And can I take this flier?”

Within a minute he was pushing through the doors of the school building with a flier in hand, intent on heading out to the football field before the school day officially ended. Even though it was cold out, gym classes were still being held outside for as long as possible. Even from up on the hill that Garreg Mach was stationed on he could see the turf field was alight with activity—or at least the six members of any given high school gym class that actually participated. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, but he practically ran down the path and to the bleachers that lined the field. Standing and chatting with one of the gym teachers was Byleth, themself.

Although they didn’t work at the school (”I could never be surrounded by the little demons,” they had said), Byleth would often come to Garreg Mach a bit early to visit with some of the other coaches. Today, they were with Catherine, who was laughing loudly at something their quiet coach had said. Coach looked at ease, which was a good change of pace than their usual anxious (but well-hidden) attitude towards other people.

“Coach!” Caspar called out, causing the person to turn and frown at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“Teacher said I could leave,” Caspar said, which wasn’t exactly a lie, but also wasn’t the whole truth. He produced the flier in his hand that had been crumbled in his fist, jogging slightly in place to keep himself warmed up. He had gone outside without a proper jacket and his single long-sleeved shirt certainly wasn’t cutting it with the weather. “Look! We can finally win!”

Byleth took the paper from him, scanning it quickly. “A volleyball tournament for a fundraiser?”

“Oh, I heard about that,” Catherine said. “The proceeds are going to next year’s senior class. It’s nothing but friendly competition, but the class supervisor was hoping that the students would get hyped up about it.”

“Well, they were right!” Caspar said, wishing that his coach would be a little more excited. “This is our chance to finally win a game!”

“I don’t think anyone at the tournament will be serious about it… is that really the victory you’re looking for?”

“Oh, one hundred percent,” Caspar said, nodding his head vigorously. “It will be fun! We can all work with each other and dunk on the other team.”

“Better yet,” Catherine added, “it’s set up to be in a bracket, so you get to dunk on multiple other teams.”

“See?!” Caspar cheered. “You can coach a winning team!”

Byleth furrowed their brows. If Caspar was honest with himself, he still didn’t understand Coach in the slightest. Even when he believed they were getting close to the other team members, they would then shrink back into their shell. However, they appeared to have forgiven them for the small amount of vandalism that they had committed. For a while he was worried that they would never get over it, but they slowly warmed back up to the team as time passed. He didn’t think that the tournament idea would be preposterous, but they were weighing it like it was life or death for the Black Eagles.

“C’mon,” Caspar continued, nudging their arm. “I think we gave it our best this season, truly.”

He wasn't lying. Although the season had been a rocky start and continued to be an uphill battle regardless to how long they played together, they had done their best. There was so much improvement from every team member—even if some of them were more mental than physical.

That was certainly worth celebrating in their own shitty, school-run tournament way.

"Fine," Byleth relented. "I don't think I can technically be a part of this, but you are welcome to talk to your captain about signing people up."

"Well, we're going to want you there," Caspar said, aghast. "It will be towards the end of the season, won't it? I doubt we'll have many practices or games after that."

"You're right about that," Byleth said with a nod. "I'll do my best to make it."

"Great!" Caspar was about to run back to the school before the teacher could realize that he had ditched class (she had realized the second he left, but sometimes he preferred to pretend) when a stray thought crossed his mind. "Oh no, Seteth isn't going to let Flayn play!"

She had been sitting out of practices ever since the incident, even though she was perfectly healed. The doctor had given her a go-ahead to play sports and return to school and she was even participating in gym class again. All of that, but Seteth had banned her from stepping foot on the volleyball court.

Byleth let out a heavy sigh. "I don't think Seteth will let the paper go through the office if Flayn's name is on it."

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Caspar asked, looking up to Byleth with disbelief. He wanted one final game together where they could all show off their skills and it wouldn't be the same if they didn't have Flayn there. She was the most enthusiastic out of all of them and she was going to be one of their star players next year if he had anything to do with it. “We won’t be a team if we don’t have her with us.”

Byleth scratched the back of their head, then brushed out their ponytail with nervous strokes. “I can try talking to Seteth again, but I really don’t believe he will budge. I’m sorry.”

“Eh,” Caspar eventually said, shrugging. That took Byleth surprised—they looked like they expected him to just start yelling. “We have Hubert on our team, I’m sure we’ll find a way around it.”

“How is one kid going to fix things?” Catherine asked. He was glad that she had either forgotten about the girls’ locker room incident from the beginning of the year or chose to forgive. He had a feeling it was the former.

“He has his ways,” Caspar said.

“I don’t want to know how Hubert would ‘fix’ something like this.” Byleth put the “fix” in air quotes, which helped considering their tone was still as monotone as usual.

“Neither do I, so maybe I’ll ask Dorothea to go and beg.”

“Well, Eisner.” Catherine patted their back. “You got a good group of kids under your wing. I have to go deal with that—” she pointed to a group of students in her gym class that were sitting on the turf and not participating “—but I look forward to seeing your team in action. We need to see if you’re all talk or not—eh?”

“All talk?” Caspar wondered aloud as the other coach walked away. “Awh, have you been telling people about our skills on that court?”

“Perhaps,” Byleth answered noncommittally. “And I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be in class.”

“Will you come to the game? Please!” Caspar did his best to pout at Byleth, but all he managed was to get them to laugh at his expression. “Hey! I’m being serious—we want you there!”

“I’ll talk to Edelgard,” Byleth said, shoving their hands into their pockets. “That’s all I can promise at the moment.”

Chapter Text

Bernie felt a little silly standing in full uniform against other teams that still had jeans on from their day at school. Caspar was in the midst of hyping everyone up for their third (and final) game, but Bernie still could only pay attention to the absence of their coach.

The first two games had gone smoothly—and that was an understatement. While all the other matches they ever had were stressful and an uphill battle, these were shockingly easy. All nine of them (Flayn hadn’t been able to show up thanks to her father’s rules) were on the court at one time which had been leading to some tragic communication errors, but even so, the opponents were not on-par. It was expected, considering none of them were students who played volleyball daily, but it was still satisfying to win for once.

“We’re in the finals!” Caspar yelled, running up to the players while the other semi-final match was playing. On one side Bernie recognized Claude—who was attempting to distract the other team by taunting them. The rest of the players didn’t look familiar, but Bernie had seen them around school and occasionally in her classes, even if she didn’t recall the names. They only hung out with the volleyball team anymore, sometimes it was easy to forget that there were even other people at Garreg Mach. It was simpler that way, but they also felt more at ease everyday at school. Like there were people watching out for her.

“I would sure hope we’re in the finals,” Ferdinand said with a frown, crossing his arms. Bernie laughed at his reaction, specifically because Hubert jabbed him in his ribs to make him smile once more. She was positive that some kind of relationship had blossomed between them, but neither had shared the details. She didn’t mind—it was there lives, after all—and it was nice to see both of them a little happier. “Let us continue our domination.”

“Fun words coming from you,” Dorothea said, winking at him as he flushed a vibrant pink. “Everyone hanging in there?”

“Why would we be… hanging?” Petra asked.

“Just asking if you’re doing alright,” Constance clarified. “Caspar bodied me in the last match.”

“I called the ball!” Caspar insisted.

“I was standing directly under it,” Constance said, rolling her eyes, but she was clearly amused by the situation. It had been a chaotic couple of matches, but it went by quickly. Each game was only a single set which made it easy to mess up, but it had been fun.

“How’s it going?” a voice made all of them turn their heads to the gym door. Byleth walked in with their coaching shirt on followed by…

“Flayn!” Half of them yelled, storming their teammate the second she walked in through the door. Flayn was laughing, hugging back an overly-enthusiastic Caspar who lifted her into the air.

“Now, if you see Seteth… we all run in the other direction,” Byleth said, smiling at Edelgard. “How’s it going, Captain?”

“We are officially in the finals,” Edelgard said. Even though she looked like she was nonchalant, Bernie recognized the parts of her that were excited. It was clearly visible by how much she was showering both of her girlfriends with kisses and how she laughed off Ferdinand getting in her way on the court. The captain looked like she was having fun for once, and it was refreshing.

Bernie was also having fun.

It felt strange to them, but it was easier to hit the ball. Sure, the other team might be more prone to mistakes, but the hits were always much lighter and easier to return. They felt much more confident in returning the ball. Each time Bernie had managed to get it up into the air, Caspar would award her with the biggest smile and congratulations as if it were a real match.

“They called the game,” Hubert pointed out.

“Awh, Ingrid’s on this team,” Dorothea cooed before calling out. “Ingie! Good luck!”

The “Ingie” in question turned her head and gave Dorothea a little wave before seeing who they were talking to. “Coach?”

“Hey,” Byleth responded. even though Ingrid looked shocked by their appearance, they were as at-ease as ever. “Finals?”

“Yes…?” Ingrid trailed off, before shaking her head. “Am I missing something?”

“I coach volleyball as well,” Byleth motioned to their team. They were about to turn away from the conversation when another voice yelled, catching their attention.

“Coach Byleth?!” The voice belonged to a tall man with red hair who was in the middle of being yelled at by his friend to put his shirt back on. “Are you here to cheer us on?”

“Quite the opposite.” Bernie was surprised when a small group of students swarmed their team—and all of them were going to be their opponents in the final match. It was three boys as well as Ingrid, and all looked terribly athletic which was frightening. It looked like Claude’s team had lost the match, but he was still doing his best to annoy most of the “fans” in the stands. “I’m here with my volleyball team, the Black Eagles. These four are from the Blue Lions, my hockey team that I coach.”

“You coach hockey?” Ferdinand exclaimed. “You are a traitor.”

“You do know that I was a hockey player before volleyball… never mind.” They shook their head. “Good luck everyone.”

With too many eyes on them, Byleth retreated to the bleachers. Bernie understood the sentiment—they would retreat, too, if they were caught between Edelgard throwing poisonous glares towards the tall, blond senior on the other team.

It wasn’t long before one of the teachers waved them onto the court and they split up their positions to begin the game. Once again, all ten of them had to share the makeshift court-space, playing in three rows. The first row had four: Dorothea, Constance, Flayn, and Hubert, followed by two in the middle: Petra and Edelgard. Bernie, Caspar, Linhardt, and Ferdinand took the back row.

Even though Edelgard wouldn’t be able to officially play as a libero, she wore her her crimson uniform, drawing attention to her in a sea of black. She looked confident, tossing her hair over her shoulder even as the boy on the other team taunted her. Their opponents started with the ball, the same person doing his best to serve, but it fell short and nearly slammed into the short, angry boy at the net.

“Sylvain!” He turned around, hissing at him. “You asshole.”

“Now, now,” the taller blond answered. “Do we really—”

“Dimitri I swear to god if you—”

“Felix. Dimitri. Sylvain. Cut it.” Ingrid demanded, and Bernie was amazed when all three of them fell silent, turning their eyes forward to the net in front of them. Caspar laughed next to her.

“Let’s go, Ferdinand!” he cheered, shooting their teammate a finger gun as he backed up, floating the serve over the net.

The first few times he had done that during the tournament, the crowd had been filled with gasps as they looked on in awe. By now, however, they were used to it and most definitely annoyed that they all came to the event just to flex on the other players. Usually Bernie would hate so much attention on them, but they were standing out less than the other players on the team, so it would have to do.

“Fucking hell,” Felix yelled back at his friend, who had leapt out of the way of the ball just in time for it to land in the court. “You have to hit it back.”

“Why don’t you hit it back?” Sylvain yelled.

“Uh,” Ferdinand hesitated, before announcing, “One serving zero?”

There were no official referees for the match, so it came down to them calling their own points. They had been fair thus far, but it hadn’t stopped the other teams trying to pin them down as cheating. It made Bernie nervous, but they were quickly distracted by Flayn cheering the team on, reminding them to keep their focus on the game. It was good to have her back, especially once Ferdinand accidentally served it into the net, earning a sour glare from Hubert who was only inches away on the front line.

When it came time for the ball to be served to them, Bernie was ready. One of the other team members (who seemed scared by the four’s bickering) served, dropping directly to Petra who easily covered her part of the court. Hubert switched the middle, yelling out, “Constance!”

The girl ran to the right side of the court, taking the position that he had left and leapt into the air. She connected with the ball, slamming it towards the back of their court again. She threw both arms into the air, laughing when the other team was unable to keep it from hitting the floor.

Dorothea tackled her with a hug while the rest of the team clapped, Caspar yelling loud enough that one of the members of the administration looked like they were going to ask him to quiet down. Bernie was beaming, feeling Constance’s happiness as if it was their own. The first week she couldn’t even return the ball, much less score a point—it was impressive.

And the game continued as such. Even though the hockey team wasn’t playing at the same level as their usual opponents, it was satisfying to see how much their little ragtag team had grown throughout the season. Bernie still remembered when she couldn’t stand being on the court, and now she felt (somewhat) safe even when it was crowded with all ten of them. The chances of something catastrophic happening were close to none when she had so many people there to deflect the ball from her if need be.

They even went as far as attempting to enact revenge on her father, which still struck them with such an intense feeling of gratefulness. Even though it had temporarily turned their life into a living hell, having to skirt around their father and not risk getting caught visiting their girlfriend—no one had ever stood up for them like that. No one had been so insulted by the treatment she received at home that they had struck back.

Bernie had to admit that she loved each of them, at least a little, after she saw how genuine their anger had been.

By the time she was pushed to the front of their line-up, they were nearing the end of the game. With only one set, the plays seemed to fly by and Bernie didn’t want it to end. They were still unsure if they would have other games after this one, but for all that they knew it might be the last time they would all officially be on the court with one another. Bernie was struck with the melancholy tone that was etched on each of their faces, even though they were all clearly having a blast watching Felix get angrier and angrier at Sylvain. Bernie could only assume that they were a couple—they acted exactly like Hubert and Ferdinand.

“C’mon just a few more points!” Caspar urged next to them, scaring them out of their thoughts. “Sorry.”

“No, i-it’s okay, just spooked me,” Bernie responded. When he offered her his hand, she took it and squeezed it. Out of the corner of her eye, she could make out Dorothea winking at her, but she looked away and brought her hands back to her own person. Caspar just laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Linhardt said from further down the line, “let’s continue to playing volleyball, unless if you want to be the new Dorothea.”

“No one will be the new Dorothea,” the girl in question responded, crossing her arms.

“I’m serving,” Edelgard announced, clearly doing her best to keep her tone light. Even if it was only a mock tournament of sorts, she was still as serious as ever about how their team presented themselves.

The ball flew over the net and Dimitri pushed it into the air, Ingrid hitting it hard against the back of their court. It was Dorothea this time who received the ball, sending it up into the air. It veered off to the side, flying out of the lines. Before it could hit, Flayn leapt away from her position, attempting to hit the ball as far as she could back towards the net.

It nearly made it over the net, but it was beginning to fall a bit short.

Right where Bernie was standing.

They froze and they saw in a flash what would happen if they didn’t hit the ball. It was easy to recall the images of Flayn falling to the ground, curled up in pain after the ball connected with her head. She remembered all the bruises that Edelgard had from playing constantly—and Linhardt’s black eye (even though that was mini-golf related).

She could just let it fall, they had enough points that it wouldn’t decide the tide of the match.

“Bernie!” Caspar cried out, and they knew that they would have to try. They didn’t get this far just to throw away all the training and care and friendship that the whole team had given to them.

Bernie took a single step back, matching the pace of the ball falling through the air. It wasn’t Caspar tossing it to her, but Flayn and Dorothea had done their best to get it to her. She would have to trust them.

Taking another step, and then jumping as tall as they could—Bernie flew.

“Yes!” Byleth was on their feet before they could even recognize what their body was doing. They watched as Bernie—shy, timid, terrified Bernie—leapt after the ball, hitting it downward and over the net with enough force that they earned the point. Some of the students who were watching the finals looked at them strangely, but they didn’t care. All they could think about was the very first practice they had, when they tossed Bernie the ball and she practically ran crying out of the gym just at the thought of receiving it. It was exhilarating, watching Bernie score a point all by themself. They had never even accomplished the feat during their practice matches against one another.

Some of the students were whispering about their outburst as they settled back into the bleachers, excited to watch their team finish up the match. Even though Byleth missed being the one playing the sport, there was something satisfactory about watching their team rise to greatness. Even Edelgard was smiling at Bernie, giving her a high five while they set up for the next serve. They were all getting along with one another, and that was something in and of itself to celebrate when it came to the team.

“Finish up strong,” Edelgard called out, resting her hands on her knees. Her and Petra had been playing beautifully, neither of them needing to throw themselves onto the ground, but still keeping perfect, communicated cover of the court. Byleth hoped they would have enough players for the next season—it would be a shame to not watch Petra grow in her skills over the next four years.

Four years? That was a long time even to Byleth. Did they really believe that they would continue coaching for so long? They pushed the thought aside as the ball flew into the air, courteous of Constance’s serve. She was growing into a much stronger player—and Byleth could tell that Edelgard had been helping her in the gym, she looked much more confident and stood up straighter. Between her and Dorothea… they both looked so much more at ease with themselves and the world around them. Byleth was glad that they pushed through whatever had plagued them earlier in the season, Dorothea even looking into colleges and asking for a recommendation letter from them.

The ball was returned to them (Byleth was surprised that Sylvain was finally getting the hang of the game—it was impressive from the boy, really), and Caspar saved it from falling just within the line. Even though he had been loud and destructive the whole season, he was a good kid. Byleth could see why the administration was fed up with him… but he was also trying his best in everything that he did. It was noble, even if misguided at times.

“Mine,” Hubert said, setting the ball perfectly for a waiting Ferdinand, who nearly took Felix’s head off with his spike. Byleth had been most worried about the returning volleyball players, but Ferdinand had stopped acting as if he was above the rest of the players.

(Well, for the most part. Byleth had learned painfully that once a von Aegir, always a von Aegir.)

Hubert was much of the same, even joking around with his teammates during the game. His version of joking around was could be considered sarcasm, but it had less of a bite than it had the first few weeks. He even looked after Flayn, who was radiant on the court. Hubert was the one who contacted Byleth with a plan to get her out of Seteth’s watchful gaze—an influx of paperwork made for a suitable jailbreak. They knew it would be a pain to make sure she could get onto the ice, but they were already spending the week convincing Seteth that hockey was safer because they wore more protective gear. That was a complete lie considering Flayn could be checked across the ice at any moment—but what Seteth didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

Byleth watched in awe as Linhardt blocked an attempted spike by Ingrid, another point stacking up for the Black Eagles. They were shocked when Caspar filled out the papers for the main office with Linhardt as the assistant captain. Byleth heard from Seteth that they were taking away the gym class exemption for the athletes and they assumed it would be the final straw for Linhardt. Instead, he not only willingly signed up for the next year—but also took a leadership position.

“Last point, let’s go,” Byleth whispered under their breath. It was a miracle that their team wasn’t fighting with one another, and they were proud. Even if this ended up being their last game… Byleth wouldn’t be disappointed. Honestly, their performance was more than they could ever dream of.

Byleth watched as Petra served, the ball hitting the court without being contested. Their little team erupted into cheers as the match was called, Caspar attempting to fit as many team members into his arms as he possibly could into a group hug. This ended up with Dorothea and Ferdinand being knocked down to the ground, nearly crushed by Petra who tripped over Flayn’s foot. Byleth stood up to check on all of them, but all three on the ground seemed to be unharmed—Hubert lifting Petra back to her feet and Edelgard helping her girlfriend. Byleth could feel the smile on their face, ever-growing as the team acted as if they had won the Olympics. It was what they deserved, after all, even if they were making a scene.

“Did you see that?” Caspar yelled up to them, motioning for them to join. Byleth descended from the bleachers, waiting to talk to them until after they got their prize, which was coupons for an ice cream shop in town. It certainly wasn’t a compelling prize, but Ferdinand was being over the top about their victory regardless. “We won!”

“I saw, I saw,” Byleth said. The first person they went to was Bernie, holding out their hand for a fist bump. “Congrats on your first point.”

“Th-thank you,” Bernie said. They looked a little skittish from the attention and noises, but a smile was visible. "Thank you for coming to the match."

"Of course I was going to come," Byleth said, doing their best not to scoff. Even though they had been hesitant, it was worth their time. They never expected coaching to feel so rewarding, especially when it came to something as simple as a high school team. "You all did really amazing. You improved so much from the first day."

"Is Coach being sentimental?" Constance asked, more announcing it than anything. An eruption of "oooooh" came from the team and Byleth waved it away.

"Giving praise where praise is due, that is all," Byleth said. "We should plan a team celebration at the very end of the season, but for now, I would like it if the seniors could come to my car with me. I have a little gift."

"Wait!" Caspar exclaimed. The rest of the gym was packing it up for the day—putting away the volleyball nets and the tables they had put out for registration. "Are you not going to give a speech? This might be our last game, we need some words!"

"I am believing you should speak," Petra agreed with a nod and the rest of the team joined in.

"Fine, fine," Byleth said, rubbing their hands together before returning them to their sides. They were unsure how to give a proper “inspirational speech," but Byleth supposed that they could so their best.

They looked over all of their team members, before taking a deep breath. "Thank you all for wonderful season. I had my doubts the first week... well, the doubts went much further than just the first week—"

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Hubert said.

“At least they are honest,” Linhardt added.

“Can I continue?” Byleth asked and their team slowly quieted down, standing in a half circle to watch them. “Thank you. My doubts were warranted, but I watched as each and every one of you grew as not only a player, but as a person. Three of you nearly got arrested and one was put on house arrest,” they shot a joking wink to their cousin, “but what is high school without a few bumps? I’m proud of all that you accomplished and I’m glad to be your coach. Um, Edelgard? Would you like some words as captain?”

“Of course,” Edelgard stood by their side, and the second she began speaking, Byleth was glad that they had someone who was eloquent. “As your captain, I wish to thank all of you for the hard work you have put on and off the court this season. I know that this team was unconventional from the start, but each and every one of you put in the work that was required for us to reach any level of success. More players than not were brand new to the sport, and we did wonders adapting to a new play style. All things considered, there was significant growth throughout the season and on behalf of me and the other seniors, we wish you all the best if the team should continue for years to come.”

“Woo!” Dorothea cheered and the team clapped. “Good job, guys!”

“We have finally secured the victory that we deserve,” Ferdinand began to speak and the rest of the team groaned, Linhardt going as far to attempt to boo him out of the spotlight. “What? Am I not correct in my celebrations?”

“Come with me,” Byleth urged, ignoring Ferdinand’s rambling. They knew that it would simply turn into praise for himself and persevering despite his team being not as talented. Byleth turned to the other players. “I’m working on securing at least one more game with the other coaches… I’ll keep you updated. If not, I’ll be sure to have a small party for all of your hard work. Good job today.”

Eventually, Byleth managed to drag the seniors out of the gym and to where they had parked their car. With winter around the corner, it was dark by the time they got out of the school building. In the light of the street lamps, Byleth fiddled for their keys and unlocked their car. Edelgard, Constance, and Dorothea were all leaning on one another, the girlfriends’ expressions all elated from the game regardless of the cold. Ferdinand and Hubert kept more of a distance, but were clearly much more at ease with one another than they had been earlier in the season. Although Byleth wasn’t one to question other people’s romantic lives, they were happy to know that they had grown close to one another. Frankly, Dorothea’s openness had taught them much more than they had ever imagined about romantic relationships, opening up doors that they had never thought of peeking behind.

“These are for you,” Byleth said, taking five bouquets out of their car and handing them to each of the team members with an envelope attached. “I’m not good with words, you know that. But I am grateful to have met you. You all have my number… so don’t hesitate to reach out. I expect you all to give me final updates on work and colleges.”

Byleth was surprised when after Edelgard took the flowers, she opened her arms and asked, “Can I give you a hug?”

Usually they weren’t a fan of physical affection, but they hugged each of their players (except for Hubert, they both settled for an awkward fist bump) before wishing all a good night.

Byleth got back into their car and began to drive back home, tired from all the excitement. They would need to wake up early the next morning for hockey, but at least they felt much more confident in their abilities to coach. They remembered laughing at their father’s idea, rolling their eyes at the thought that they could be in charge of a group of children, but now they already missed it. Seeing all of them on the court and win really made all of it worth it—even if they did have to beg Seteth to get off of all of their backs occasionally.

They stopped at a red light, the scent of the flowers still lingering in the car. It all went by too fast. Even if they managed to arrange another match or two, it was nearly the end of the season and they would move onto other sports or club activities. Even so, they had to admit that it had been much more fun than they expected. Byleth couldn’t play with them, but every step of the way their team made sure that they felt included in their plans… and they were grateful for it.

Byleth had lost that sense of teamwork and support when they had to drop out of their own team years ago… and to find it again at the local high school of all places?

They chuckled to themself in the car. There was a long hockey season ahead of them… but who knew? At this rate, they would need to pick up a spring sport just to make sure that they were able to keep up the momentum until the next volleyball season began. Then, they would have to wrangle Caspar and Linhardt into properly running the team, which was more of a sport than the volleyball itself.

Until then, it was time to get back on the ice.