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Chapter Text

Byleth watched with grim determination as her enemy fell to one knee, defeated. She looked down at the ground, panting hard from their fierce battle.

She never could best her teacher in combat.

“It looks as though… my path… will end here.” She muttered between breaths, just loud enough for the two of them alone to hear. Outside, the battle still raged, Byleth’s rebels fighting against the last remnants of the Adrestian army. Hubert and Jeritza had already fallen to her blade, loyal to the end.

Now, their master would share their fate.

Edelgard looked up at her, eyes glistening, and for the first time Byleth was struck by the realisation that she had never once seen the woman cry, “My teacher… claim your victory.”

Despite everything that had happened, everything Edelgard had done, Byleth’s breath caught in her throat. Memories of the time they had spent together burst unbidden into her mind, flashes of afternoon teas and late-night walks, talking about anything and everything. 

The white-haired woman’s gaze hardened, “Strike me down.” She insisted, “You must! Even now, across this land, people are killing each other. If you do not act now, this conflict…” she shook her head, “will go on forever.”

Byleth’s eyes filled with tears, an unfamiliar sensation, one she had felt only once. Her father’s death was the first, and only, time she had cried in her life. Now, it seemed as though she would weep again, for one who was as good as family, whom she had abandoned with her indecision.

She had hesitated once, in the Holy Tomb, faltered on the path she should have trodden. It was too late to change that fate now, that past unreachable even by Sothis’ divine power.

All she could do now was ensure she would not hesitate again.

“Your path…” the Empress whispered, tears falling from her eyes, “lies across my grave. It is time for you to find the courage to walk it.”

They were both crying now, silent tears falling to the cold floor of the empty throne room. Still, Byleth’s grip on her sword tightened.

“If I must fall… let it be by your hand.”

Blinking away the tears, she stepped forwards, silent and solemn.

She raised her sword.

Edelgard looked up at her and smiled softly, the smile she reserved for Byleth alone.

“I wanted… to walk with you…”

Her final confession.

She let the blade fall.

Byleth awoke with a start, drenched in cold sweat and tangled in her sheets. Panting hard, she glanced over at the clock on her bedside table.

6:08 AM

She took a deep, shaking breath. She had to get up for work in an hour anyway; there was no point in trying to go back to sleep now.

Not that she could after that nightmare.

She shook her head; those memories belonged in the past. Her choice had been made lifetimes ago.

Having brought her breathing to a more normal level, she disentangled herself from her bed and walked over to the light switch. She might as well get ready now, and have some time to kill before work. 

After taking a shower to wash off the grime of the night, and getting dressed into her work uniform, she headed downstairs to prepare some breakfast. The unexpected benefit of waking up so early was that she actually had time to make something more elaborate than usual, instead of having to rush to eat whatever she could put on toast.

The kitchen, as always, was clean and well-stocked. She’d put enough money towards it, after all, it was only right she maintained it as well. The house as a whole wasn’t the largest in the world, but it was a comfortable place in a quiet part of the city that served all her needs perfectly. Even when she had been the Queen of the United Kingdom of Fódlan, she had preferred to live in less extravagant quarters, and that hadn’t changed in 8 centuries. 

Byleth bit her lip and paused in preparing her breakfast. She’d been thinking about the past a lot lately, much more than she did before. Perhaps her nostalgia trip had been a mistake after all.

She shook her head and continued. She was just getting old. Age always seemed to make people nostalgic for the past. Maybe she should go and visit Seteth and Flayn sometime. It had been around 450 years since they last spoke, and a whole 5 or so lifetimes for her in-between. She wondered how they were getting along with the modern day, whether the technology of the time scared or intrigued them. Flayn, she could imagine, would almost certainly gravitate towards some of the newer developments, while she was sure Seteth would be more reticent. Maybe she should bring them their own phones when she next sees them.

She huffed a laugh at the thought of Seteth trying to work a phone. 

Speaking of phones, she pulled her own out as she sat down to eat breakfast, a vegetable omelette. Simple, perhaps, but still more than what she usually ate in the mornings. As she chewed, unhurried, she checked up on social media, scrolling through anything she’d missed while she slept. Truthfully, Byleth wasn’t a huge fan of those types of apps, but as a 20-something year old in 2024, it was more suspicious if she didn’t have some kind of online presence, limited as it was. Besides, it was always useful to hear about what was going on across the country, and across the world.

There was little of interest to her; some kind of sports match between Brigid and Almyra seemed to be the talk of the town, so to speak, but such games never interested her. She’d taken part in a few matches during her international travels, but that was centuries ago, and she was sure the games must have changed at least a little in that time. 

The thought of her wanderlust years brought a wistful smile to her face. Perhaps, after this life had run its course, she could do something similar. Not as an explorer this time, but as a traveller. It had been ever so long since she had left the country, and the world had doubtlessly changed since then. 

The ringing of her phone’s alarm brought her out of her musings. On any other day, she’d just be waking up to that sound. Instead, it served as a useful reminder that she had a job to get to.

Sighing and standing up, Byleth stretched for a moment before putting her dishes in the sink, ready to be washed when she got home. After quickly brushing her teeth, she grabbed her car keys and headed out. 

Her car, much like her house, was nice, but nothing special. It was the kind of thing that perfectly fit the image she’d crafted, of a young woman who had inherited the family home after her parents’ death. It was all a fabrication, of course, an intricate web of false documents that few others could have created, but it allowed her to live a comfortable, quiet life. 

As she started the car, she took a brief moment to marvel at how technology had progressed. Originally designed as a way to democratise magic, and level the playing field for everyone, it had quickly taken on a life of its own, thanks in no small part to Byleth’s own efforts. Still, back then, when they worked on the very first engines, she never could have imagined how they’d end up.

It was the same for the city as a whole. Byleth didn’t visit Derdriu until after the war, but she’d always had a soft spot for it. It wasn’t as cold as Fhirdiad was, nor was it quite so steeped in bad memories as Enbarr. Still, she could remember how it was back then, and could see very few similarities to what it had become. The city had expanded with its population, becoming something of a cultural hub in the East. She fondly remembered her work as the Curator of the Derdriu Museum of History, some 90 years ago now. 

She was sure Claude would have been proud of what it had become.

20 minutes later, she arrived at work, and parked across the street. She always found it somewhat ironic; she’d been a notable historical figure in many of her lives, from the great inventor “Lysithea Kirsten”, to the renowned author “Ingrid Ordelia”, to the famed explorer “Petra Nevrand”, and even the Queen of Unification herself. And yet, here she was now, working as a barista in one of Derdriu’s many artisanal coffee shops. 

She’d made the choice some 20 years ago now, after working in Enbarr’s National Museum for several years. It felt fitting to end her nostalgia trip at the place it all started, and she wanted to look towards the future. She didn’t particularly feel like travelling too much, and didn’t want to hide herself away again either. Becoming a barista seemed like the natural choice, a way to have the human interaction she needed, without forming any strong connections with anyone.

She knew too well how fleeting mortal lifespans were.

Byleth picked up her keys from the cup holder and got out of her car. The morning breeze carried with it the salty scent of the ocean, and promised a nice, warm Spring day. She hurried inside, and set about opening up the shop. It wasn’t meant to be a particularly busy day today, so she was to be working alone for most of it, but that was fine by her. It meant fewer stilted conversations with her coworkers, and less small talk in general.

Turning the lights on, Byleth put on her apron, and got ready to start the day.

Sure enough, it was something of a slow day for business. Aside, from a few regulars, and the usual lunchtime rush, Byleth found herself alone with her thoughts for most of the day. That, honestly, was fine by her. Throughout the years she had spent many moments with naught but herself for company. It was something she appreciated even before the war, and appreciated even more after it. She had never been particularly prone to boredom, and with the radio on she was able to entertain herself well enough, without slipping into the grasp of painful memories. 

It was evening now, and almost time for her to start clearing up for the night. She was at the tail-end of the so-called “Student Hour” now, when most lectures at the University of Derdriu were over, and the students hurried over for a pick-me-up before knuckling down to work. That was something of an advantage with this particular location: its proximity to the university meant that they often had students in, lending the shop a low buzz of noise that reminded her of Garreg Mach’s dining hall. It was a warm, comforting sound for her. 

The door swung open just as she was tidying up behind the counter. There were only a few other customers sitting in the shop, so she took the chance to do some menial work instead. A moment later, she turned around, and her heart stopped.

Because there was a ghost standing on the other side.

Because somehow, Edelgard von Hresvelg was there .

Sure, her hair was different, a chestnut brown instead of the snowy white she remembered, but she knew her student’s lilac eyes, knew the contours of her face, had spent many idle moments painstakingly drawing her from memory in the throes of her regret. 

She blinked. The woman remained. She knew it couldn’t have been her , that it was impossible in several ways, but the resemblance was more than uncanny. It was as though Edelgard had walked out of the depths of her memory and taken physical form. 

She took a shaking breath, and reminded herself that she still had a job to do, that she had to serve this woman who could not be Edelgard . Despite her decades of experience as a travelling bard, it still took every scrap of her acting ability to school her expression into her usual customer service smile, “What can I get you?” She asked.

The woman glanced up, lilac eyes skating over the menu with the same analytical gaze Edelgard had worn, “Bergamot tea, please.”

Byleth’s breath hitched, and her unbeating heart skipped. Edelgard’s favourite. Still, she nodded, and got to work. 

“And who is this for?”

The question slipped out impulsively, her mouth moving on her own. They didn’t take names for orders, had never found the need to, but something within her burned to know anyway.

The woman didn’t bat an eye, “Edelgard.”

Byleth was glad her back was turned to the woman, because she could not disguise the shock that crossed her face. Who was she, who wore the face and bore the name of the woman Byleth had once loved, whom she had struck down to protect a system she later abolished anyway?

“That’s an unusual name,” she tried to keep her voice light, casual and uninterested, but could do little to disguise the slight tremor to her words, “it sounds familiar.”

Edelgard sighed, clearly having had this conversation many times before, “It’s an old family name.”

Byleth hummed. She knew she should stop there, leave it at that, and refuse to pursue the mystery further. Instead, once her body had finished up the tea and placed it on the counter, her traitorous mouth continued to work of its own accord, “It reminds me of the old Adrestian emperor.”

Edelgard arched an eyebrow as she placed her card against the reader, “Not many people remember her name. Do you study history?”

She waved off the question, “I’ve only read into it a little.” Technically true, if only by virtue of the fact that she didn’t need to read about events she was present for, “Do you?”

The brunette nodded and sipped her tea, giving Byleth the oddest sense of déjà vu as she was reminded of those peaceful Garreg Mach days, “I’m a history student at the University of Derdriu. The Unification is one of my favourite topics.”

Byleth nodded, suddenly feeling unsure of where to go from here. Fortunately, her mouth continued its rogue manoeuvres, blurting out, “I’m Byleth, by the way.” 

Edelgard smiled wryly, an achingly familiar expression, “Like the Queen of Unification?"

Caught in a trap of her own making, Byleth said the first thing that came to mind, “It’s an old family name.”

The other woman laughed at her own words being turned on her, “Well, Byleth, I’m afraid I must go, but I think I’ll be back soon.” She took a sip of her drink, “You make excellent tea.”

Despite herself, despite this insane, impossible situation she had been placed into, she found the corners of her lips quirking up into a smile, one she only showed around her friends, and her mouth rebelled one last time to say, “I look forward to it.”

Edelgard blushed lightly, just as her doppelgänge once did, and left with a smile. Byleth resisted the urge to groan aloud, conscious that there were still customers in the shop. Her mind was not on them, though, but on the strange encounter she’d just had. Edelgard was somehow alive and well in the modern day, she was sure of it. She had been the last of her immediate family, and no one ever looked so identical to their ancestors. 

This, of course, suggested the existence of reincarnation. Byleth didn’t know enough about what lay beyond death to discount it; despite her immortality, she’d never come to learn of those deep secrets of life.

But perhaps there was someone who did know.

She sighed. It seemed she was going to visit Seteth and Flayn after all.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for Byleth to prepare for her visit to Seteth and Flayn. Her boss allowed her to take the week off easily enough, the first time she’d taken a break since starting there 3 years ago. Aside from that, she didn’t have much to do in the way of packing; she’d always travelled light, and she had more than enough money to buy anything she forgot on the way.

It took her about five days of driving to reach her destination. Her fellow immortals’ home was in one of the most remote regions of the continent, buried deep within a forest. By design, of course; the cabin’s original purpose had been as a place for Byleth herself to hide away from the world, so it was the obvious suggestion when it became clear that Zanado was no longer fit for purpose.

Driving west from Remire, now a lively town, Byleth allowed her mind to wander. She’d last visited Seteth and Flayn sometime in the late 1500s, during her global travels. While there, they mentioned how surveyors from Garreg Mach were making ever more forays into the Red Canyon, and how it was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid them. It was, of course, unwise for two people trying to live unnoticed to stay so close to the nation’s capital, so she easily offered them her old home.

The cabin itself was nothing particularly special, a wood cabin sitting by a river, simple and rustic, but it held a special place in her heart. After all, it was essentially where she had lived her second life.

Byleth was Queen for 20-odd years before her abdication, and they were some of the longest years of her life. She had to fight tooth and nail to bring the three disparate nations of Fódlan together, and that was before she got around to abolishing the nobility and de-emphasising the power of crests in society. Her final act consigned all royal powers over to the council, upon which she all but ran out of the repurposed monastery and returned to settle down in Remire, where she was nothing more than a mercenary’s daughter. 

The next few decades were some of the toughest of her life. She had known of her immortality for quite a while. She still remembered the day she first realised it; she and the rest of the former Black Eagles had gathered for dinner for the first time in years, and Dorothea had said something innocuous, some off-handed comment about how young she still looked or something. She’d glanced around at the faces of her friends, then. They were still recognisable, still mostly the same, but with subtle differences. Dorothea had a few early crow’s feet, Caspar a few grey hairs, Bernadetta a tiredness to her eyes.

But Byleth? Byleth hadn’t changed one bit. She looked exactly the same as she did that day in the Sealed Forest. Not a wrinkle, not a single green hair fading to grey.

She’d pushed down the realisation at the time, put it off in favour of celebrating with her friends, but eventually she had to confront it.

Surprisingly, Caspar was the first to go.

The man had been so full of life, so effortlessly bombastic, that she could scarcely believe he would ever die. After that, however, they seemed to drop like flies, funerals flying by in a blink of her ageless eye.

Byleth was alone when she attended Petra’s funeral, a grand Brigidian affair with feasting galore. She decided, there and then, that she could not face that pain again, could not grow close with anyone, lest she see them fade and wither and die. Many of her former students left behind children, and she could scarcely stand the reminder of what she had lost.

So, she ran. She built a cabin in the most remote area she could find, and lived the life of a woodsman. It was a simple life, especially in comparison to her royal duties, but comforting in a way. Days of hunting and fishing, and of hard manual labour, allowed her to forget the outside world. 60 years she lived there, her only interaction being with the occasional lost traveller, with whom she would name herself “Sitri Rangeld”. By the time she left, drawn to a different calling by plague’s grim hand, her friend’s grandchildren had grown old, and she no longer felt the sting of loss as strongly as she once did.

She brought herself back to the present as she got out of the car. She’d driven as far as she could, but she’d have to make the rest of the journey on foot. She wasn’t too worried about leaving her car behind - she doubted there were many thieves out here, and in the worst case scenario, she had the money to buy a plane ticket back to Derdriu. Really, it would mostly just be an inconvenience, as she’d have to hitchhike to the nearest airport.

It was only around 20 minutes before the dense thicket of trees thinned, and slowly gave way to a living memory. The cabin was just as Byleth remembered it, a squat wooden building with an overhang to one side for firewood. Behind it, a river wound its way through the forest, lending the soft sound of running water to an otherwise silent atmosphere. Overhead, the sun hung low in the sky as day gave way to evening.

Byleth brushed her clothes down as she walked up the path of trodden dirt to the door. With no more than a moment of hesitation, she raised her fist and knocked, the sharp rapping sound echoing out into the woods.

A minute passes. Byleth is content to wait. Then, slowly, the door opens, just a fraction, just enough for her to see green eyes look out at her in the ever-dimming light. They widen, and a second later the door swings wide open.

Seteth stands behind it, stern face etched in shock. He looked, she noted, exactly the same as he did the day they last parted, exactly the same as the day she abdicated, exactly the same as the day they first met.

But, then again, so did she, hair colour notwithstanding. 

“Professor,” he blinked, almost disbelieving, “this is quite the surprise.”

She smiled slightly, apologetic, “Sorry Seteth, I just had something I wanted to talk about.”

The man nodded, “Of course. Please, come in; dinner is almost ready.”

She nodded her thanks as he stepped aside and welcomed her in. Inside, the cabin was much as she remembered it; a few pieces of furniture added or moved around, different books on the shelves, but still the same home she once lived in. The fireplace was lit, and a pot of what smelled like venison stew bubbled over it. In one of the nearby armchairs, Flayn sat, an old book on the table next to her. As Byleth walked in, the girl’s expression brightened, and she shot to her feet.

“Professor! It’s so good to see you!”

“You too,” Byleth smiled despite the small pang of pain that particular nickname brought, “though it’s been a long time since anyone’s called me that.”

Flayn shook her head and hurried over as Seteth shut the door and walked to the fire, “Nonsense! You will always be my Professor!” She held onto Byleth’s arm and started guiding her over to the sofa, “Oh, but you must have been so busy since we last spoke. Please, can we take a moment to catch up?”

Byleth rarely found it within her to decline a request from such an earnest girl, so for the next hour or so, she decided to indulge her former student, and get reacquainted with the two of them over bowlfuls of, admittedly delicious, stew. 

Despite Byleth’s best attempts at truncating the story, there was simply too much of it. They’d last caught up when she set off on her journey to foreign lands, intending to explore and chart the world beyond Fódlan. Once her wanderlust was sated, she decided to put her experiences into writing, publishing a litany of grandiose stories of adventure. That had piqued Seteth’s interest, and he seemed eager to publish his own stories, children’s tales he’d originally written for Flayn. Byleth promised to help him out with that, before moving on to the next part of her tale: her days as a travelling bard.

Her experience as an author had given her a taste for storytelling, and she set out to do so across the country, singing tavern songs and weaving fanciful stories half-remembered from distant lands, all in exchange for bed and board at any inn that would have her. With her immortal lifespan, she had mastered a great many instruments over the years, so she was somewhat popular wherever she went.

She wasn’t sure quite how isolated from the outside world the father and daughter had been, so she didn’t know exactly how to broach the next topic, that of her time as a machinist, ushering in a new age of innovation where magic was available to all. They seemed to at least take it in stride, understanding the nature of human progress.

The same could not be said for the next career she chose.

“All that work,” Seteth frowned, “and you chose to become a fisherman ?”

“Sort of.” She shrugged, “Industrialisation had apparently made a lot of progress in the fishing industry, so I wanted to see what it was like.”

The results were… mixed. The life of a sailor tended to be quiet, with many of her fellow crew members keeping to themselves, which she appreciated. But even though she enjoyed the salty air, and the rocking of the boats, she was rather underwhelmed by the developments. Trawling was indeed a vital way of providing for Fódlan’s seafood needs, but she preferred the personal touch of a fishing rod, bait and tackle. Maybe she was just old-fashioned like that.

But, well, all that time alone on the ocean left her with a lot of time to ruminate on her past, and once her nautical adventures had ended, she decided to indulge in a little nostalgia, and found herself curating a number of museums across the country. It was probably a bad idea, but she was allowed a few of those in her life. 

And that brought them to today, where she has spent 21 years serving coffee.

Honestly, it was nice to sit down with them like this, catching up with two of the only people in the world who could understand her situation. Unfortunately, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t stay like that forever.

It was Seteth who brought her back to why she had come, after serving the three of them tea, “So, Professor, you said you wanted to discuss something with us?”

She nodded and gripped her cup tighter, focus drifting from the two others in the room and down to a spot on the floor, “Yes… the other day, I was working, and Edelgard walked into the shop.”

As expected, silence fell over the trio, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Byleth glanced up at the others, seeing them both look at her with an odd… sympathy?

“Professor,” Flayn began, “are you feeling okay?”

She tamped down on her annoyance; she scarcely believed it herself, after all, “I’m fine. And it did happen. Edelgard von Hresvelg walked into my coffee shop and ordered a bergamot tea.”

Seteth raised an eyebrow, “My apologies, but you must understand how this sounds to us. You are telling us that a woman who died 840 years ago, who you yourself executed,” Byleth winced, pushing away the memories of that night, “is now alive and well in Derdriu and ordering tea ?”

“It’s not… exactly her.” She explained, “She looks identical, but she doesn’t know me at all.”

“Could she be a descendant?” Flayn suggested.

Byleth shook her head, “Edelgard was the last of the royal bloodline. All her siblings and her father were dead by the time I…” she took a deep breath, “by the time she died. Her mother died in the Tragedy of Duscur, and her uncle…” she shared a meaningful look with the both of them. They knew perfectly well that Volkhard von Arundel had died long before Edelgard did, “Besides, she was identical . I’d know her face better than anyone, and that was Edelgard. No descendant could look that similar.”

Seteth rubbed at his beard, “Then what are you suggesting?”

She bit her lip. Discussing religion was… a difficult topic between them. Yes, she had technically fought for the Church of Seiros in the war of unification, but her reforms had stripped it of all political power. She knew they didn’t resent her for that, exactly, but it was still something they tried to avoid if possible.

Unfortunately, in this situation, it was not.

“Did… Sothis say anything about reincarnation?”

While Byleth was only somewhat familiar with the religion of Fódlan, and even less so with those of other countries, she had learned about the idea of reincarnation during her travels in Morfis. The dominant religion there held the belief that each and every living thing had a fundamental essence, a spirit that lingered beyond their mortal body. They believed that, after death, that spirit would return to the world in a new form. Perhaps it was a similar case here?

Seteth and Flayn shared a glance, the man tapping his fingers against his thigh, “In truth…” he began, “we rarely had cause to consider death. It was an alien concept to us, and by the time we were familiar with it…” he stared at the wall, clearly lost in memories of his own, before shaking his head, “I doubt even Rhea truly knew what lay beyond death, despite what her… scripture may have said. Sothis certainly never discussed it with me.”

“So it’s possible?”

“It isn’t im possible.” He relented.

Byleth nodded, taking a moment to process this. If her gut instinct was right, if this really was Edelgard, her Edelgard, then… what?

As if reading her mind, Flayn prompted, “What will you do now, Professor?”

“I’m not sure.” She answered honestly, “I never thought this would happen.”

“If I may,” Seteth cleared his throat, “I’m sure you remember my opinions on Edelgard. I also can’t say I ever understood your… fondness for her. With that said…” He sighed with the full weight of his two millennia of life, “Whether it was the Goddess, the world, or fate itself, you have been granted a second chance. I know better than anyone how rare such a thing is. You have been alone for a very long time, Professor, and you are facing eternity ahead of you. That is too long to live without love.

“Once, I had Flayn and her mother. Now, I have Flayn. You have had no one. If you want my advice, you shouldn’t squander the opportunity you’ve been given.”

She frowned, brow furrowed, “But… she’ll die, and I’ll be alone again.”

“Yes,” he admitted, voice like a solemn vow, “mortal lives are fleeting compared to ours. But speaking as a man who once loved someone with all of my heart, even if I had known how it would end, I would have fallen in love with her all over again.” He huffed a soft laugh, mouth curling in an uncharacteristic gentle smile, “Take it from a fable writer: happily ever after has never meant forever. It simply means time .”

Silence fell once more as Byleth processed this. For so long she had been careful not to get too attached to people, to drift through her lives with her cold heart closed off from the world. It was easier that way: with only acquaintances, it hurt less to leave them behind. Now, Seteth was suggesting the opposite: opening up, and to the person she had betrayed, no less. Could she do that? Did she deserve that?

Well. In the end she supposed it wasn’t a matter of who deserved what. The fact was, she had been given this chance, and it would be a waste to shun it now.

Maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself this time, however brief.

Byleth left the cabin early the next morning, after a night’s rest on Seteth’s surprisingly comfortable sofa. Before her departure, she gave the two of them presents she’d bought on the way up: a pair of relatively cheap but robust phones, all set up with her number inside. As expected, Flayn took to the device like a duck to water, eagerly spamming her with a series of adorably over-formal messages, while Seteth regarded his as if it had personally offended him, but reluctantly agreed that it would be useful for them to keep in touch more. She also promised she’d see about getting his books published, which seemed to cheer him up a little.

And with that, Byleth left the cabin of memories behind her, and returned to her, thankfully not stolen, car. With the early morning radio playing some old classics she hadn’t heard in a century, she set off for home, excitement warring with anxiety in her stomach as she thought about the future ahead of her.