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Chapter Text

26th day of the Ethereal Moon, 1180 (12/26/1180)

Fuck. I should've stayed with the infantry. At least Dad is corralling the other two Houses.

Byleth yanks on Morus's reins, flipping her mount into a nosedive and spiraling down onto one of the demonic beasts that ripped out of those poor students. Her grip on the Sword of the Creator tightens with her fury and rage.

That could've been my students. That could've been Felix. Whoever you are that did this... I'll make you pay. What is it that Felix says?

Oh, right. I swear it.

Her Relic splits into pieces and lashes out as she swings, cutting a blazing trail through the sky and deeply lacerating the enemy's armor. Beneath her, Felix jumps and spins away from a strike from the creature's massive tail. The follow-up double strike to the wound draws a screech of agony from its throat.

"Good to know I didn't waste the last couple weeks. Nice footwork, Fraldarius," she calls, hoping he can see her grin. He pushes sweaty, flyaway hair back from his face, parries a talon with his sword, and grins back.

Oh, goddess. He's distracting. Even when I'm angry. Sorry, Morus, but all I want to do right now is be down there.

She tries to ignore the ever-present urge to tackle Felix, no matter where they are, and continue what they might've started last night. The boy in question throws himself back at the monster, joined swiftly by Dimitri. His effortless positioning around the lance, and the precise motion of his off-hand's fingers as they summon devastating blasts of lightning, do absolutely nothing to quell the sudden pulsing at the apex of her --

"Even imperiled, you are a degenerate." Sothis kicks her feet in the air idly, seated behind Byleth. "There are matters at hand more pressing than your salacious fantasies. On a battlefield? Really?"

Shut up, Sothis. You know just as well as I do that he'd be into the venue. Maybe. If... if he was into me. Argh. This is stupid --

A bloodcurdling shriek cuts through the air. Byleth whirls, quickly pinpointing the source to be Annette wailing over the blackened, withered body of Mercedes.

"Mercie why didn't you tell any of us that you breathed it in I could've fixed this why did -- "

"You all needed... healing more," Mercedes rasps, head lolling to the side and a soft smile on her cracked, bleeding lips. Black liquid leaks from the corners of her eyes and mouth. "It got in when I was casting, and saving your lives is worth... laying down mine. So I just... kept going until..."

Hacking coughs shake her body and blood spatters Annette's pale, horrified face. Ingrid and Sylvain furiously try to beat the beast back, and Balthus breaks off from his team's target to try and save their healer, but to no avail.

"Sorry, Annie. If you ever find Emile... tell him I'm sorry, too."

"No. Nonononono, no, MERCIE!!!"

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

Instead of spending precious seconds fantasizing about starlit rendezvous and fingers in her hair, she immediately turns from Felix and dives to the other team. Just as Mercedes coughs up her first mouthful of blood and black begins to tinge her veins, Byleth rolls off her pegasus and shoves an antitoxin down the older girl's throat. She chokes a bit at first, but her body relaxes and the blackness recedes.

"Blugh -- Professor?! How did -- "

"Mercie what's wrong?!"

"Don't worry about it. Cast Fortify, now." Byleth charges off again, whistling for Morus to just follow her while she runs. The Sword slashes through tendons and claws, shattering yet another beast's armor. "Gautier, Galatea, go!"

She charges forward beside them, and between the three Relics the beast collapses and showers them with ichor in record time.

"Thanks, Professor! Whew. Last bit might've been a bit overkill, though..."

Ingrid leans herself heavily on Sylvain's side, panting with exertion. "For once I agree with Sylvain. Nothing could stand up to two Relics -- three must be near to divine punishment." Her brow wrinkles when something leaks onto her cheek. "Sylvain, you're bleeding, what -- when -- ?!"

He scratches the back of his head and turns away. "Uh. Y'know how I bumped you and you got mad about me messing up your hit? It, uh... s'cuz I was taking a hit for you. Heh."

"You -- "

"BALTHUS, NO, FALL BACK -- BALTHUS!!!"

A sickening crunch. Wailing. Surges of mana and flashes of light.

FUCK!

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backwards.

This time, she doesn't dawdle. "Gautier, Galatea, go!"

Byleth pivots, signals Morus down, and leaps into the saddle. She immediately spots the Wolves and notices Balthus literally boxing himself into a corner away from the rest. He's gambling his position, hoping it'll turn its weak spot to him to focus on the others. He's gonna lose.

"Von Albrecht, fall back! That's an order!" A blast of lightning accompanies her yell, distracting the beast long enough for Balthus to scramble back to Yuri's right hand.

"Balthus, what the hell were you thinking?!" Yuri visibly sags with relief and shakes his head.

"I was betting -- "

"That's where you went wrong, B," mutters Hapi. "Focus. I can slow this thing down, but I don't think I can do much more..."

Byleth forces her will through her blade and it writhes in response. "Allow me to demonstrate, then."

She loses count of how many times total she turns back the hands of time keeping her students alive. But she knows exactly how many times she has to save Felix. 

It's four. Once when he overcommits and gets gored, once when he blows himself to smithereens with a suicide attack, and twice when he tries to throw himself in front of her to take a blow she one hundred percent could have weathered.

I told you not to be a fucking hero, you idiot! I can't be the reason you go. I couldn't... I'd never forgive myself. So see tomorrow with me, and stay out of the way!

She has to abandon Morus towards the end. They're both exhausted, and Byleth can't risk falling out of the sky from careless errors. So she ends up where she always does -- fighting back to back with her star student.

Felix suddenly stops his movement and extends a hand. "Byleth. Dance with me."

Hah. Knew you were just deflecting about holding my hand.

Byleth grins. "Anytime."

She takes his hand. Mana sparks from the contact, and she doesn't really care who sees or what they think. She's having the time of her life.

They work through exactly one rotation of their choreography, evading claws and teeth and gouts of poison through a dance of gleaming swords and magic. He roars and fires off a blast of lightning with the last of his mana, and she stabs her blade into the hole left behind when he spins and dips her at the end.

The last monster collapses and withers to a husk behind them. In the frantic comedown from her battle fervor, Byleth twitches upward ever so slightly and almost brushes Felix's lips.

Almost. But not quite. Not yet.

"I grow tired, child. From your frank overuse of my powers, and your testing of my patience. Kiss that boy! The battle is won!"

Dad's right there, and I don't want to go back to save Felix again.

Speaking of her dad, he dismounts his horse and walks over, raising an eyebrow at Felix. Her biggest distraction clears his throat, pulls her back upright, and lets her go. Which is very disappointing.

"Fraldarius. Putting all that training to use, I see."

"...Sir."

Jeralt sighs, then huffs a laugh. "Told you to drop the formality, kid. And I guess you proved me right. You're the right kind of stupid."

...Huh?

Felix looks just as confused. Byleth opens her mouth to ask Jeralt what things he's been laughing about behind her back, when that one girl in the Black Eagles house sidles up. The one from the basement, but not the Wolves' basement. Von Ochs?

"Uh. What's up, kid? Edelgard send for me?"

"Oh, no sir. Not at all. I'm just here to thank you for all your help, sir!" She bounces up to Jeralt, hands held behind her back... and then everything goes wrong.

Von Ochs pivots on her toe. There's a flash of something in the midday sun, and a wet thwock of metal piercing flesh. The world narrows down to a single point. Byleth's breathing stops. Felix freezes, a strangled noise dying in his throat.

Monica von Ochs just stabbed her dad in the back.

And she's sneering.

"You're just a pathetic old man. How dare you get in the way of my brilliant plan... you filthy dog."

NO.

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

"...Thank you for all your help, sir!"

"DAD, LOOK OUT -- "

Jeralt turns, but his lance is stuck in the ground and he can't ready it fast enough. There's nothing he can do. The only thing that changes from last time is he sees the face of his killer before she sinks the blade into his gut with a wet thwock of metal piercing flesh.

FUCK!

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

"...Thank you for all your help, sir!"

Magic sparks to life on her fingertips -- the first, fastest spell she has, anything -- and lightning cracks through the air. But it scatters against a shield of some kind around her, and there's a wet thwock of metal piercing flesh.

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

Byleth draws her dagger and whips it at von Ochs before she even turns around, but there's a flash of purple and a sickening surge of mana. When it clears, a bizarre, diseased-looking husk of a man stands smirking at her.

"...Thank you for all your help, sir!"

There's a wet thwock of metal piercing flesh.

No no no no no no NO --

"Child, stop. You are pushing too far, this power is not meant to be used so often -- "

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

"...Thank you for all your help, sir!"

FUCK YOU, I'M NOT LETTING HIM DIE.

She tries. She tries, and tries, and tries again. But every single time --

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

"...Thank you for all your help --" It always ends the same.

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

"...Thank you for all your --" There's always --

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

"...Thank you for all -- "-- a wet --

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

"...Thank you for -- " -- thwock of metal --

Glass. The hands of time.

"...Thank you -- " -- piercing --

Shatters. Turn backward.

"... Thank -- " -- flesh.

"ENOUGH! Any further will kill us both!"

Blood fountains out of Byleth's nostrils from the psychic strain, and the world rolls. With one last-ditch effort, she channels all her desperation and helpless fury and terror and panic into the Sword of the Creator, which flickers and sluggishly separates. She's tapped. Everything in her is gone.

THIS HAS TO WORK --

A flash of purple. A sickly man. Her final attack scatters away.

Byleth's failed.

"... Thank you for all your help, sir!" von Ochs bounces up to Jeralt, hands held behind her back... and for the last time, the only time that matters, there is still a wet thwock of metal piercing flesh.

Monica von Ochs just stabbed her dad in the back.

And Byleth can't save him. The glass is powder and dust. The hands of time are broken and stuck.

"I... I am sorry, Byleth. But there are limits to even my powers."

NO --

"You're just a pathetic old man. How dare you get in the way of my brilliant plan... you filthy dog."

The sickly figure turns to von Ochs and smiles. "What are you doing here?" snarls the girl.

"Merely because there is still a role that I require you to fulfill," he croaks, and then they're gone. But that doesn't matter, because Jeralt Reus Eisner is lying facedown in a pool of his own blood, and it's all her fault.

"DAD!!!"

Her dad is heavy. But adrenaline and panic fill her with more physical strength than she thought possible, and with a mute Felix's help she manages to haul Jeralt's bulk onto his back. Her heaving, hyperventilating breaths stir his hair as he blinks up into her face. Blood drips down her chin and pours out of his back. Like father, like daughter.

She's out of mana. She can't heal him. But she knows, deep down and with certainty, that magic wouldn't have helped. There's a festering darkness pouring from his wound. Cursed blade. You fucking cowards.

"...Hey, By." He coughs. It's wet. It shouldn't be wet. It can't be wet because he can't be --

"Hey, hey, what's that for? Never seen you like this." Jeralt's hand, so trembly and weak, grasps her own numb one. "You worried about me?"

"Dad, please -- "

"Heh. I guess you are. I'm... I'm sorry, kiddo. Little shit got me good. Looks like... I might have to leave you now."

Byleth hiccups, and something strange happens. Her eyes burn, her throat closes, and her shoulders shake. Before she can process anything, she starts...

She starts crying, and sobbing into her father's broken body, "No, no, no, no, I'm sorry, I couldn't -- no, no, please don't leave me -- I tried -- don't -- "

"Byleth -- " she hears Felix gasp, but she doesn't care. Memories, hazy and disjointed but so clear and connected at the same time, play through her mind.

Swinging a sword for the very first time under Jeralt's watchful eye. Her first shot from a bow and arrow. The first time she ever accidentally sparked, and how proud he looked when he finally found someone in a town to teach her the fundamentals. Him, holding the reins of a horse as he taught her the basics of mounted combat. Her, pointing at books and tomes that he'd buy with his hard-earned gold, so that she could learn.

The clearest, most prominent memory is the very first time he took her fishing. He taught her how to set up the rod, how to hook bait, how to properly cast a line... and how to be patient. How to wait for good things to come, even if you're hungry, or tired, or anxious. How to be comfortable, and to enjoy the space around you.

She remembers the very first time she ever caught a fish on her own. He smiled big enough for both of them, so she didn't feel the need to do so herself. After some gruff congratulations, he showed her how to season it with whatever herbs they could find, and they grilled it together on a campfire with some vegetables. Years later, he still said it was the best meal he'd ever had.

"Holy... shit." His eyes widen in utter shock, and a gurgling, disbelieving laugh bubbles up from his spasming diaphragm. "You... you're crying. To think that the first time I saw you cry... your tears would be for me..."

"Dad -- stay with me -- no -- "

The laughter subsides, but the smile on his face stays. "It's sad, and yet... I'm happy for it." His body begins to shudder and convulse. His labored breathing slows. Felix tries to pull her away but she lashes out and catches him with her elbow. She thinks she hears a crack. She'll say sorry later. But -- dad --

"You know... for so long, I thought I'd die alone on a battlefield somewhere, when you properly grew up and left the nest. That I'd eat shit for the last time, and never be able to say goodbye." Jeralt lifts his big, callused hand one last time, and wipes some of the tears away from her bloody face. "But... here you are. So... thank you... kid. Be strong. Don't let those noble brats lead themselves to their deaths... and keep your head up for me, 'kay?"

Byleth nods, unable to get any words out through her tears. Jeralt closes his eyes. "Goodbye, kiddo. 'M proud of you. And... Sitri would be, too. I -- hurk -- "

He coughs again, hard enough that Byleth feels something dislodge, and his chest barely rises on his next breath.

"I... didn't say this enough to you. That's my fault. I never knew how. But..."

Four words rattle out of her dad's chest.

"...I love you, Byleth."

And then he suddenly isn't anymore. He's just... one minute her dad is in her lap, and the next there's nothing but a hunk of bloody meat.

But that doesn't make sense. The world is still here. Which means Jeralt has to be. He's always been here. But he isn't. Which means --

Her dad --

She flings herself across his body and clings tight, searching for a heartbeat, a pulse, a rise and fall, anything, but the evidence is irrefutable.

Jeralt's dead.

A shriek of pure grief and rage and loss rips from her throat and ringing fills her ears. Felix appears again, this time with Dimitri, and they both drag her kicking and screaming off the corpse.

The sky darkens and the heavens pour. Thunder cracks across the sky.

"Don't leave me -- FUCK!!!"

Chapter Text

27th day of the Ethereal Moon, 1180 (12/27/1180)

Jeralt's funeral is today, and only one person in the entire monastery never makes it. Felix doesn't blame her. The saying goes that the funerals are for the living, not the dead. But Felix thinks they're not for the grieving, either.

Just like Glenn's, Jeralt Reus Eisner's funeral is fit for a true knight. Speeches from the archbishop, and from the blowhard knight who was his brother-in-arms or some shit. Other faculty chime in, as well as students -- Leonie, naturally, has far too many things to say. All of them fawning and stupid. She can barely get through a sentence with her blubbering.

They shouldn't have let her talk. Her bizarre obsession makes Byleth uncomfortable.

But his Professor isn't there to say no. So up Leonie goes. A lot of things happen that she wouldn't have wanted, like him being referred to as "Sir" all the fucking time, or the archbishop's entire dedication being about his knighthood and making absolutely no mention of the twenty years he spent fighting tooth and nail to keep his daughter alive and away from the Church.

Speaking of evading the Church, even the basement rats make it to the farce. But when they see that Byleth isn't there, everyone but their king turns right back around. Hapi, visibly angry at all the disgusting preening, takes a deep breath while glaring at the archbishop. Only Yuri's swift hand around her mouth and Constance's elbow in her stomach save them all from destruction, and Balthus carts her off with the latter in tow. The Savage Mockingbird stares sadly after his underlings for several long moments, before Felix finally snags his attention by bumping his shoulder.

It's the first time he's ever really looked at Yuri. The anger and guilt and resolve he finds there, under a mask of calm and acceptance, are like a mirror of his own. In that moment, he knows they are on the exact same page. It's why Yuri stays for the entire service, fist clenched almost as tightly as Felix's.

We failed her. Every single one of us. She's one of ours, and we failed. This cannot happen again. 

After what feels like an eternity, Byleth's father is laid to rest beside his wife with pomp and circumstance and fanfare and honor, and it makes Felix absolutely fucking sick. 

The vultures eventually flee the corpse, and Felix stands off to the side of the graveyard. He hasn't said a single word since right after Byleth broke his nose.

26th day of the Ethereal Moon, 1180 (12/26/1180)

There are a handful of sights burned into Felix's memory. His mother's eyes. Her coffin. Glenn, blade in hand, across from him. Glenn's broken, ruined armor. Sylvain and Ingrid's faces when they heard. Their first smiles when they learned how to do it again, months later. Dimitri, face flushed, talking about the girl he once gave a dagger to. The boar prince's rampage of annihilation.

More recently, Byleth's smile. The way she throws her head all the way back when she laughs, or puts her knuckle to her lips when she giggles. Byleth swinging the Sword of the Creator through an ill-fated mage's last-ditch attack. Byleth, spinning and dancing and twirling into his arms. Byleth, on top of him, in her battle clothes, in her uniform, in that gorgeous dancer's dress. Byleth's eyes, stealing the moon and stars and putting the night sky to shame. Byleth, Byleth, Byleth.

This image of Byleth will also be burned into his memory, but... it's not a happy one. Just like his brother's lifeless shell, and his friends' faces, and the moment his friend Dimitri died and a rabid animal took his place, this sight burns itself into his very soul because of how much it fucking hurts.

Byleth sobs in denial as her father bleeds out on her lap. The ringing in Felix's ears drowns out their final conversation, but he snaps back into focus when he sees the telltale signs. Jeralt's body jerks and shudders as his systems shut down, due to blood loss. His heart's giving out. His nerves are firing aimlessly.

He's going to die in her arms.

This is too fucking cruel.

"Byleth -- "

He reaches for her shoulder, to try and offer support, to try to pull her back and spare her the trauma of feeling her father fucking die, but her reflexes are ingrained too deep. Her elbow cracks out the instant Felix gets too close, and then everything turns white. There's a crunch and he thinks he screams but he's not sure because Byleth absolutely pulverizes his nose.

Goddess dammit -- ugh -- another point to you --

Felix ignores the pounding in his skull and the blood pouring from his face. Instead, he chooses to ride the adrenaline, scrawling a white magic symbol in front of his own face and thrusting the last dregs of his mana into it. Once the warmth of magical healing starts knitting bone and cartilage together, he comes to a conclusion.

I'm not strong enough. I'm still not fucking strong enough.

Not on my own.

In that instant, he decides to go against every single principle he's ever had. Every single one, heedlessly ignored. Shredded and thrown to the wind.

For Byleth, I'll do anything. I pledged my sword to her. She needs help. And if I can't provide it all on my own... then I'll have to make do.

On the spot, he decides to make a deal with the devil, and invokes its true name.

"DIMITRI!"

Audible gasps of shock break the spell of choked horror that fell when Jeralt was stabbed. Ingrid grabs Sylvain's hand for some fucking reason and chokes, staring openly at Felix. Sylvain whispers, "Holy shit."

The boar -- Prince Dimitri -- staggers, his mouth hangs open, and the hazy rage in his stare recedes.

"Close your mouth and move your feet, you brute, I need your fucking help, it's Byleth, I -- "

In the time it takes for Dimitri to run to Felix's side, no questions asked, Jeralt dies. It takes all of their strength combined to tear her away from his body. She doesn't stop screaming or thrashing until Mercedes puts her to sleep.

27th day of the Ethereal Moon, 1180 (12/27/1180)

He snarls at the memory of his own weakness. Sylvain and Ingrid finally break their silence.

"Fe. This isn't your fault. There was nothing you could do. No amount of training could have saved him."

"Sylvain is right. We had no way of knowing that Monica -- "

"Von Ochs is nothing but a dead woman walking," Felix growls. "At the risk of sounding like the boar." 

I won't let myself get that far. But... I understand him a little better, now. That woman will pay.

The boar's stare turns steely. His fists tighten and his scowl grows even deeper. "I will grant you that, Felix. I agree with you. Monica von Ochs's days on this earth are numbered. She will not be allowed to escape unscathed. But I also agree with Sylvain. You are not to blame."

Felix tightens his grip on his sword and clenches his jaw. "We are all to blame. We all failed. We all should have been stronger. Faster. We didn't do enough. Someone should have known. More people than Byleth should have acted. Instead we all fucking froze like children experiencing danger for the first time," he grits through his teeth.

None of them have anything to say to that. Because he is fucking right.

"Tch. I'm leaving. Don't follow me."

The thing about storming off to be alone is that when you succeed, you're alone. Which, for Felix, is normally the ideal state of being. He can zone out, lose himself in a trance while training, or stare at the stars. If he has thoughts or needs to brood, he can do it uninterrupted. It's natural, for him, after four years of practice.

But this time, it's different. Because Byleth's words echo in his ears, instead of silence.

"Two of a kind."

Byleth is doing the exact same thing that he always does. But the difference is she doesn't have four years of withered bitterness festering inside her. She doesn't have highborn Faerghan repression baked into her bones. Her natural inclination to things isn't to lash out and wall herself off. Yet.

I... don't want her to become like me.

So he ends up in front of her door, working his jaw and clenching his fist. He can't bring himself to knock.

Coward.

Instead, he sits down and leans his back against it, unsheathes his sword, and takes out a whetstone that Byleth gave him after tea, one day. After a few moments, he slowly begins sharpening, still unable to form any words. Eventually, the blade can't take any more sharpening without its integrity being threatened, so he sheathes it and just... sits. He doesn't know how long.

Something hits the other side of the door, and Felix hears fabric sliding down the wood. A few beats go by.

Soft sobs break the silence. The kind that live between a whisper and a scream, where your voice can't get any louder or higher and it just breaks into a powerless whistle. Or maybe the kind that comes out when you're trying as hard as you can to strangle them back into you, but still they slip through.

She's still crying. An entire life of no tears, according to Jeralt, and now they won't fucking stop flowing.

Felix can't do anything but let her cry. He's on one side of the door, and she's on the other. He's here, and she's worlds away. It makes him want to stab something, punch something. It makes him want to go back in time and fucking do something. And even though he's heard it so many fucking times, and he knows that it's useless and does nothing and it's just words... he wants to say that he's sorry for failing, for all of her students failing.

But he doesn't. He holds it in, and seconds later inspiration strikes him like one of Byleth's Thoron spells. He shoots to his feet, draws his sword again, and stabs it down into the ground in front of the door with an audible impact. After digging around in his pockets, he pulls out Glenn's broken black iron spur -- the one that Byleth found at the training ground and returned to him -- and hooks it on the crossguard. Then he walks away, hoping that she'll understand what it means.

I know what it's like to be left behind. I won't do that to you. I will be back.

I swear it.

28th day of the Ethereal Moon, 1180 (12/28/1180)

Classes are cancelled until next month. For obvious reasons. Which is good for Felix, because he spends all night and the next day at the fishing pond with a borrowed rod -- two, actually, since he fucking broke the first one in a fit of pique -- and a scowl. No success, not for lack of trying. Hours without a single bite, and even then when something does it's either too small or gets away immediately. Annette, Ashe, Sylvain, and Ingrid all bother him at different points, but he ignores them and stares at the water.

Finally, after what feels like eons of more and more failure, Felix sees something bob at the end of his line. The rod moves, harder than ever before. He seizes it and pulls as hard as he possibly can, battling against a creature that's strong, and fast, and persistent.

But Felix is all of the above, too. And he has an advantage over it. It's one of the few gifts of his nobility that he actually feels no disdain for. He strains, and focuses, and feels his Crest manifest with a flash of blue light that reflects off every ripple and wave in the pond.

The fish doesn't stand a fucking chance. Minutes later, he's standing in front of Dedue, fish still wriggling on the line.

"Teach me how to cook this," he growls. Dedue nods, and says nothing.

When Felix darkens Byleth's doorstep again, his sword is gone. In its place is Byleth's dagger, point buried in the same spot.

Thank the goddess.

He leans forward to pick it up, careful not to tip the plate in his hands, and grunts, "You... don't want to eat. You won't. For a long fucking time. I know, because I didn't. But you need to, or you'll atrophy. If you're awake, unlock the door."

There's silence, for a few long moments.

"You're too good of a training partner to let waste away. I won't... I won't leave you behind. Let. Me. In."

He takes a deep breath, lowers his voice, and tries to hold back his natural sharpness as much as he can. "...Please, Byleth."

Silence. Felix almost turns on his heel after several seconds go by, but then there's a rustling and a click.

I'll count that as a small victory.

Byleth's room looks like shit.

There are random slash marks on the walls, maps scattered everywhere as though dashed off a desk, rosters with handwritten notes on all his classmates laying about unattended, and armor haphazardly hung on every surface. Jeralt's spear, the Sword of the Creator, and a bundle of other blades in various states of disrepair are propped in the corner, neglected and off-kilter. By the door rests Felix's own weapon. Her father's fishing rod lays on her nightstand, right alongside his flask. The smell of strong, overproof whiskey hangs in the air.

Something moves under the irregular lump of blankets on the bed. Felix rests the plate of food he brought next to Jeralt's fishing rod and stands awkwardly in front of it.

"...I. Um." Now that he's made it past the first obstacle, the second one looms before him -- his own inability to fucking talk like a normal human being. For the first time, he envies von Riegan and the rat king for their easy charisma and honeyed tongues. It would be so much easier to convince Byleth to stagger forward if he could just say some magic words.

But he can't. So instead, he sits gingerly on the bed, just barely not touching the lump, and says, "Fishing is much harder than you make it look."

The lump freezes. After a few seconds, it twists again, until he senses something facing towards his voice and weight on the bed. Hooked.

"It... that is the longest I've sat still. I think ever." He turns Byleth's dagger over and over in his hands. "I thought about stabbing one with my sword, or using a bow. Maybe even blasting the entire lake with a spell, Seteth's wrath be damned." 

The lump rustles again, and Felix senses blood in the water. Reel her in.

"But that seemed... wrong. Like a shortcut. Or an admission of weakness. You taught me better than that. I can't just rush headlong into everything. Some things require... patience. Time. Knowing when to move and when to wait. Like magic. Stealth. Archery." He swallows. "Dancing. So... I sat. And waited. With a fishing rod. Broke one. Got another and waited longer. Then finally something came."

Blankets start to shed from the lump, and it shifts closer. Reel her in.

"It was strong. I was stronger, thanks to you. So... I brought it here, to... show you. That... you're not..." Fuck, shit, ass, goddess dammit. This is so much more fucking difficult than it should be. 

"The rod breaking was my fault. You couldn't have stopped me from breaking it, because you did all you could to teach me the skills to use it. And I learned them. It was my own foolishness that led to misfortune." He inhales, and does one last tug. "But I still caught that fucking fish. You taught me the value of persistence, too. I'm here to remind you."

Don't give up. We failed you. Von Ochs betrayed you. None of the blame is yours. You did everything right.

The lump gets taller, and finally the blankets fall. Byleth reveals herself, in all her sweaty, messy, tearstained and groggy glory.

Caught you.

She, much like her room, looks like utter shit. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying or alcohol -- most likely both. Deep, dark circles hang beneath them. She smells like whiskey, and is still wearing the undershirt and shorts from her battle getup. Her cracked lips quiver with emotion. Clutched between her fingers are Jeralt's diary and Glenn's black iron spur.

But she doesn't comment on any of that, or on his rambling nonsense. Instead, she croaks, "Nose. S'crooked."

Felix snorts. Of all the things, you point out my nose? You perplex me. But... I'll humor you. Because you need to heal. "Your elbow is strong. I might... need more choir practice. And I set it wrong to begin with."

Her face falls even further and he scrambles, violently shaking his head. "No. It's my fault for entering your engagement zone. I asked for it. Don't you dare take the blame." His mouth curls up at one end. "Attractive looks were never a requirement to wield a sword or magic, anyway."

Byleth hugs her knees, not making eye contact but head still turned to him. "No. S'good. Still look nice. Maybe... better." She swallows and plows forward without letting him even finish registering that. "...Fishing?"

"I -- um. It... seemed like the most likely thing. That you'd eat."

She turns, swaying, to the nightstand. Her eyes widen in shock. "...You?"

"...Me. Mostly. Dedue gave me the instructions. I tried my best not to incinerate the stupid thing."

Byleth slowly rotates to look back at Felix, rendered mute with astonishment and eyes the size of the moon. 

Even at your lowest, you're captivating.

"I also brought something to drink that isn't liquor," he grunts, pulling out a horn of water to distract himself. "Judging by your state, you've forgotten the existence of such a substance. Here." 

He thrusts it into her chest. She rocks backward and nearly topples, but manages to stay upright somehow. Her eyes flick down to it, then back to his, then... slightly below his eyes, before going back up. Huh?

"...Wh'kind of fish?"

"Trout...?" Felix says, baffled.

Byleth hiccups, lets the blankets drop, uncorks the horn, and takes a few hesitant sips of water. She gingerly picks up the plate, sets it down between the two of them, and says, "Okay. I'll eat. You too. S'the best kind of fish."

Her hand tugs softly on Felix's sleeve, and he's powerless to resist. When he follows, she whispers, "Thanks, Felix."

"I don't have a heartbeat," mumbles Byleth, head resting on Felix's shoulder. He nearly drops the empty plate as he leans over to the nightstand.

"...What."

"Never had one when I was born. Didn't cry, either. Have a pulse, though." She shrugs and grabs his hand. There's a faint, tiny little spark. Barely there, really. "Feel. I checked."

Stunned, Felix lets her move his hand to her neck. A strong rhythm thunders beneath the pads of his fingers. She guides him down lower, and lower, until his palm rests gently over soft flesh that for once he isn't completely beside himself about feeling. Neither the time nor the place. Here, there's absolutely nothing but stillness.

"See? Nothing. Not like him. Or... you."

"What -- why -- how did you find -- "

"Dad's diary." She waves the book in the air. "He... kept me around even though I'm fucked up. Faked my death after my mom died for real and left the monastery to keep me from Rhea. According to this, she's always been weird as shit about me."

Her eyes drift shut. "Everyone does things for me and I don't get why. Mom died for me. Dad left his entire life behind, for me. Rhea gave me a position here. People see me and they want me, or they want me gone, or they wanna learn from me, but I don't get it. Why? M'barely even alive. I... maybe I'm not alive at all."

Tears well in her eyes again, and Felix has the bizarre urge to wipe them away. "Up till now I might as well have been a walking corpse. Acted like one. Barely ever wanted anything. Went where I was told to, did was I was asked. No laughing, no crying, no smiling. Just... some kind of puppet made of meat. But he still treated me like a daughter. Even if I was fucked up, and didn't behave like other kids, and looked at people funny and said weird shit and didn't have a heartbeat and had an easier time stabbing people than talking to them, I was always his child.

"And then we ended up here again, because I suddenly wanted something for real for the first time. I wanted to save some some noble brats' lives. So we did, and he helped me and went along with what they asked, even though he went through so much effort to keep me away, and then I started feeling things and behaving like I maybe should've from the start and caring and wanting and I wanted to save him but I couldn't. He did everything for me, and I couldn't pay him back, and I never said thank you, and I couldn't even get myself to say goodbye back to him and he left me behind -- "

Enough spiraling.

Felix takes generations of Faerghan repression and etiquette training and noble expectations, sends them careening down a cliff, and clasps his arms around Byleth in a tight, impulsive, wordless hug. 

He doesn't know how these are supposed to go, he doesn't even know if this is what you're supposed to do, but it's the only solution he can come up with for her shivering and shaking. To literally compress and restrain her until it stops. It's the most practical option he can think of. 

Byleth freezes, gasps, and then hugs back so tightly he fears his ribs might splinter. In fact, the room floods with golden light as the Crest of Flames triggers, and he hastily summons the Crest of Fraldarius to reinforce his own body. He lets none of the panic show. Because Byleth doesn't need that.

What she needs is reassurance. Words to tell her that it isn't her fault, that the blame isn't hers, that her strength and her speed and her mind didn't fail anyone. That she won't be left abandoned, just because someone took her father. But he can't form them. He's never been able to just say anything right. 

So instead, he murmurs against the top of her head, "Jeralt was strong. So are you. You're alive, heartbeat or no, because you're my training partner. I can cross blades with you. Trade blows with you. Cast spells with you. You can't... if you... I couldn't, if you weren't. I would be a fool to rush off without something so... worthy. No one would, unless they were forced to."

You're stronger than anyone I know. You're alive, because I can touch you and challenge you and surpass you and I can't ever do any of those with Glenn, because he isn't. And you will never be alone if you don't wish it.

Jeralt may have left, your mother may have left, and mine, and Glenn, but... wherever you go, wherever you may fall, I will always find you. I will never leave you.

Byleth breaks, and cries in his arms, and clings tightly onto him, and he would rather die than let go.

Eventually, she pulls back and wipes her nose, grimacing at the mess she's left on his uniform. "Thanks. Um. Sorry."

"It's fine." Felix squints out the window, tries to ignore the flickering warmth from his arm around her shoulder, and says, "It's dark. You should eat again. I can get something from the dining hall. If... if you want."

Byleth seizes his hand, squeezes hard, and shakes her head. "...No. M'not... don't wanna be..."

Don't leave me alone.

He hesitates, then squeezes back. "...Okay."

They sit there, once again silent. Byleth looks over at the nightstand, and her eyes widen. Something glitters in them for the first time, pushing through the glassy haze of grief and alcohol. She nudges his chin with her head.

"Hey, Felix. Um. If you want me to eat... we could fish. Catch something. Like you did before. Just... just us."

Alone together, with you.

"...Be careful. Maybe this is when I surpass you," Felix says with a small smile.

Byleth huffs a tired little laugh and sniffles, clinging tighter. "Fat chance, Fraldarius. I'm the best at fishing there is. I... had a really good teacher."

His fingers tilt her chin and blue meets gold. "So do I."

Byleth catches three fish in the time it takes Felix to land one. But losing doesn't sting so bad, when she shows him how to grill the fish on a campfire under the night sky. She tells him about Jeralt, and he tells her about Glenn, and when their throats run raw they greet the sun in comfortable silence.

For once, no one says anything when they're found asleep in the garden on a bench together, Byleth snoring on Felix's shoulder. There are no rumors, or accusations, or unrest. Just a collective sigh of relief at seeing Professor Byleth Isabelle Eisner out of her room, healing. And gratitude at her favorite student, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, for managing to reach her when not a single other soul knew how.

Chapter Text

31st day of the Guardian Moon, 1181 (01/31/1181)

"Child, slow down, you have outpaced your backup -- "

No. No, I wasn't fast enough last time. She won't get away again. And as much as I'm proud of my class... I have all the backup I need right here.

Byleth scythes through branches and underbrush, Sword of the Creator literally blazing through the vegetation and leaving nothing but ash in her wake. Behind and to her right, Felix snorts."Your name finally fits you. Ashen Demon indeed."

She huffs and her lip curves a little, but there's so much anger and determination thrumming through her that she can't bring herself to reply. Instead, she fixates on orange hair and writhing blades.

"You can't outrun me, Kronya!"

"FUCK YOU, you little freak!" shrieks her father's murderer. "Stupid little shit had to get in the fucking way -- "

"Look who's talking." Felix hurls lightning from his off-hand at Kronya and vaults a tree stump. "And you should watch where you're going."

The lightning smashes into a small tree and snaps it in half. Byleth sees her opportunity and shoves her will through the Sword, splitting it into fragments and whipping the deadly bones through the air. The fallen tree snags Kronya's ankle, and she yelps as she stumbles. Byleth's attack catches her right across the back and sends her flying into the clearing ahead.

Got you, you piece of shit!

"Do not underestimate her. There is something off..."

She and Felix skid on stone slabs, swords scything down in unison. The sharp appendages attached to Kronya flick out and parry the blades, even from her sprawl, and she quickly twists and writhes around until she's crouched with her dagger at the ready.

"You -- "

Byleth growls and slashes twice, forcing Kronya on the back foot while Felix circles around. "Shut the fuck up. You talk too much." She hears Felix bark out a laugh from her enemy's other side and lets herself grin for a second.

"Ugh. By far the worst part of hiding amongst you all was watching you two dancing around each other," sneers Kronya. "Utterly disgusting. Just fuck and get it over with, so neither of you die virgins when we destroy your -- AUGH -- "

"Enough of your nonsense," Felix growls, appearing behind her so fast Byleth swears there's a thunderclap. His sword cleaves clean through one of her weird tail things. Black ichor splatters everywhere, and the limb disintegrates into black dust and smoke. She screams and kicks him away, staggering drunkenly from side to side.

"Hah. Saving me from accusations of impropriety again, Fraldarius?" Byleth keeps her tone light as she charges forward. Felix heaves himself up from the ground and growls, joining her in a spinning dance around an increasingly desperate foe.

"No, you can handle those yourself. I'm just filing a noise complaint," he shoots back. She huffs another laugh, then grins when his kick sends Kronya right into her swing. Byleth carves a deep furrow against Kronya's exposed chest and the woman shrieks again.

There's a nauseating, stomach-churning surge of something, and suddenly she and Felix get forced back. A bladed tail slashes through Felix's shirt and he goes down, unnatural amounts of blood pouring from the cut and a frustrated snarl bubbling from his lips, but --

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

Byleth throws herself in front of Felix to parry the attack, unintentionally molding her back to his front. Sparks fly and her breathing skips, but she can't think about that right now.

Kronya's hair stands on end. Purple energy dances on her skin, and she heaves for breath as she clutches her free hand to the bloody gash. "You... are both... filthy vermin... eyesores, the lot of you..."

"Not so easy when you actually have to fight, is it?" says Byleth. Anger bubbles and simmers in her unbeating heart. The world turns hazy and her hands tighten on her blade. "No running now. You're mine."

She lunges with a wordless shout when Kronya tries to bolt, slicing another tail thing off and sending her careening down to the stones again. Byleth feels Felix hook his elbow through hers, just like she taught him. For a brief moment their eyes meet and she sees golden eyes practically aflame with determination. Despite the circumstances, it still stokes the embers inside her, and she grins. He smiles back and sends her spinning off like a rock from a sling, momentum multiplied by the motion. Kronya's last tail doesn't stand a chance.

"AAAAAGH!!! NO -- "

Felix slices through one of her hamstrings. Byleth's next blow renders her sword arm useless, and the dagger goes clattering to the ground at Felix's feet. She falls to her knees, whimpering and gasping, eyes rolling with pain and panic. "W-wait -- don't -- mercy, please -- "

"You don't get to beg for mercy," says a stony-faced Byleth. The Sword of the Creator rises high above her head, despite Sothis's murmured pleas for caution.

"I am telling you, there is something amiss here! Before you kill her, you must -- "

Fuck waiting. Not right now. No quarter, no surrender. I'm done playing it safe. I've been planning and waiting for this moment all fucking month.

"You killed my fucking dad. This is personal." The Sword blazes, growing hot in her hands, and her lips peel back in a furious snarl. Something burns through her veins and her pulse thunders in her temples. The world narrows to a single sharp point.

"Get ready to die."

The blade falls, and several things happen in quick succession. First, there's a sickening surge of mana again and a bright flash of purple, just like all those times Byleth had to watch Jeralt die. Second, Her blade bounces off a barrier. Third, Felix yanks her baggy sleeve, pulling her out of the engagement zone, and she roars in frustration.

"Felix -- "

"Are you an idiot?! Get clear!" he yells, yanking them both behind cover and lobbing a lightning bolt over his shoulder. It ricochets back and blasts a chunk out of the pillar they're behind.

"Solon?!"

Byleth peers around the edge, eyes widening when she recognizes the figure looming behind Kronya with a smug look on its face. It's the same disgusting creature that spared Kronya's life every single fucking time she tried to end it. Her vision turns red, but Felix's hand tightens on her shoulder and keeps her behind the rock. "Byleth! You know better than this, you fool!"

"Ugh! Don't just stand there and stare, I need your help!" Kronya whines, backpedaling until Solon's just a few steps behind her. He closes the distance with slow, deliberate steps, chuckling softly to himself and stretching his hand forward. The hair on Byleth's neck starts to stand up.

"Yes... you most certainly do."

"...Huh?"

Kronya lurches backward, but fails to avoid Solon's hand as it plunges straight into her chest, shattering her ribcage and splattering black and purple liquid everywhere.

"What the fuck?!" gasps Byleth, Felix spluttering behind her in surprise. Sothis appears and stares aghast at the scene before her, as Solon lifts Kronya's twitching and choking body skyward by the viscera. 

"No... no. Child, you must run. You must get out of -- "

Kronya was mine. He killed one of his own allies just to fucking spite me?!

"Don't throw both of our lives away," growls Felix. His fingers tangle with the ones on her sword, stilling the furious shaking and snapping her out of her trance. "You are better than the fucking boar."

"I -- "

"Have no fear, Kronya. Your sacrifice will help rid the world of the 'filthy vermin' that have long infested it." Solon looks back over his shoulder and locks eyes with Byleth, and purple flames blaze to life around him as he starts to laugh. It sounds like dank crypts and chittering rats and scurrying insects and rot. Screams of agony rip from Kronya's thrashing body, and everything goes wrong yet a-fucking-gain. The flames spread and start to circle everyone in. Solon's eye flashes, and arms of flame reach out to her and Felix.

The energy radiating from Solon and his spells makes Byleth want to vomit. She knows, instinctively, that they're in way over their heads. Simple countersigils won't do shit here, and if one of those so much as touches them they're probably fucked. Solon seems impervious to any damage while his guard's up, and there's nothing to distract him here and nowhere to really hide --

Fuck, fuck, fuck! It's a trap, I overextended, we're too short on resources, we're pinned, I'm gonna get Felix killed and then everyone else is gonna blunder into a fucking trap. I blinded myself with rage and I didn't listen, I --

"You are not alone, child! Be mindful of who is with you. Young Master Fraldarius's life is in your hands, now more than ever!"

Byleth looks back at Felix. When he tightens his fingers on hers again, she drowns in a sea of gold and her breath stops short. In that moment, she makes a split-second decision.

He has to live. I don't -- he needs to see tomorrow... even if I can't see it with him.

"Sorry, Felix. But... you have to go. Warn the others. Tell them to run."

"What?! I'm not leaving, are you fucking joking, it's just one old man -- "

Desperate times. I wish... I wish we didn't have to do it like this.

Byleth turns and spins herself under his arm, just like when they danced at the ball, and presses herself to his front. Up close, she can really see the damage she accidentally did to his nose. It's unfair, how pretty he is. Even the damn broken, poorly-set nose looks gorgeous on him. The asymmetry serves as a highlight for his beauty -- now that he isn't perfect, he's somehow even more irresistible.

She leans up, bumps her nose against his crooked one, closes her eyes, and whispers like a lover.

"Forgive me."

Her lips press to his, ever so softly. Just a second of contact, but it's enough.

Softer than I expected.

A massive firework of stray mana jumps from the point of contact, and Felix lets out a strangled gasp of surprise. Byleth wants more than anything to push harder, bite down on his bottom lip, tackle him, tangle her fingers in his stupidly fucking pretty hair, grind against him, anything.

But instead, as he slackens and shifts and tries to move his hands to her waist...

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

Her lips press to his, ever so softly. Just a second of contact, but it's enough. 

So soft. I -- I wish I could -- just one more --

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backward.

"No further, child."

Tears coursing down her face, Byleth presses her lips to his, ever so softly, and finally gathers enough courage to go through with what she knows she must do.

She bodily shoves Felix backward and traces a wind spell, flinging him outside the blazing purple wall and leaving her stuck in here with a demon.

"...Go, Felix. See tomorrow. I -- I'm -- "

I'm sorry. I wanted to give you a real one, but... if I did, I wouldn't have been able to let you go.

Felix roars with helpless rage, staggering to his feet and reaching for her. "NO!"

The flames rush towards her, and the Sword of the Creator burns bright as she parries and chops and slices and cuts. But for every tendril she destroys and burns, three more appear, and all at once it's over. A single tongue of flame connects with her skin and her entire body goes numb. The Sword flickers and dies. Within an instant, Byleth is engulfed in purple, and Sothis manifests next to her bound in black chains.

"BYLETH!!!"

Then the pain starts. Unimaginable pain, like the meat is being flayed from her bones while she's still conscious. Like knives sinking deep into her brain and spinning like a drill. Like fingertips on the surface of her mind, digging and digging until her soul is laid bare for the vultures to tear into.

She screams, and Sothis shrieks, and Kronya wails, and their unholy chorus drowns out Solon's voice. His lips move but Byleth can't focus enough to make out what he's saying. She tries to move back the hands of time, but the purple flames welded them in place. Even if she could activate her Crest on command like Felix and the other brats do sometimes, Sothis's screaming tells her that it wouldn't listen to her anyway.

I think I'm fucked.

Solon yanks Kronya's heart free from her ribcage and lets her mangled body crumple to the ground, face to the sky. Those bizarre orange eyes, glow flickering and fading as black ichor oozes from her mouth and nose, stare at Byleth in naked fear. Her hand weakly reaches out, violently trembling as blood loss sets in.

"Please... help... me..."

Tch. Too late for both of us, now.

Solon crushes the heart and finishes his babbling, and then everything isn't.

?? of the ???? Moon, ???? (??/??/????)

Byleth comes to on a stone floor in the void, at the foot of a long staircase to a throne. She blinks groggily and traces her stare up it, finally seeing a very put-out and pale Sothis on her throne at the top. She shakes her head and scowls.

"Foolish child! What did I tell you?! You blundered into the enemy's trap headlong despite multiple warnings otherwise! Are you just a boulder that rolls down whatever hill it is on? No, even a boulder has more sense!" Sothis's arms wave around, increasingly agitated.

You're right. You and Felix were both right, and now I might've gotten all three of us killed. Byleth's lip begins to tremble and her throat begins to close at the idea of Felix hurling spell after spell at the purple energy, scared and abandoned all over again. Or at the idea of him chained by purple fire and gored, just like Kronya. Or of him kneeling over her corpse and screaming. Felix, alone. And her, in the void, without him.

Fuck. Felix, I'm so fucking sorry. I -- I didn't mean to, I just... you needed to be safe.

"I-I... I'm sorry..."

I miss you already.

"Apologizing won't make things right! This darkness is terrifying!" Sothis snaps. She takes a breath, sees Byleth on the verge of tears, and softens with a sigh. "Oh, child... whatever shall I do with you?"

Byleth lifts her head sluggishly and makes eye contact. There must be something there, because Sothis immediately knows what to say.

"Neither he nor you are alone. Out there, he has the rest of your little ones to keep him safe for now... and in here, being as you and I are one, I too am trapped in this void. We are stuck together."

"I'm sorry, Sothis," Byleth whispers again. "I didn't... you shouldn't have to be stuck in here with me."

Sothis hums, looks around, and taps her lips with a finger. "Hmm. Speaking of 'here,' it appears as though this realm of darkness we are in is separate from the world from which you came. I mean that... it would take a god to leave this place."

"So... we're fucked." Byleth sags onto the floor and sobs. "Guess I was right about heroes."

"Heroes die, yes, yes. But are you prepared to die, Byleth?" 

She doesn't hesitate for an instant. "No the fuck I am not. I... Maybe before, I wouldn't have given a shit. But now, I... I want revenge. I want my students to survive. I want to fucking see tomorrow, I don't want this to be over, I want..."

I want to kiss him. For real. Kiss him right, and not let go.

Sothis smiles sadly. "I thought as much. I also do not wish to die." She leans back on her throne heavily and closes her eyes. "And yet... there is no other choice."

"...What?"

"Do you recall your father's diary? The revelation that you never cried, nor laughed, nor did your heart ever beat?"

Obviously. "Kinda hard to forget, Sothis. Bit of a sore spot."

"...I think I am the one to blame," Sothis whispers. "I must have been asleep, but even then I was a part of you. As I slept, so too did those parts of you. Your happiness, your mirth... I took these all from you, for twenty years."

She closes her eyes. "I... Rhea managed to keep me within you, somehow. I have always been with you, from the moment you were born. As you grew and aged, I experienced every moment with you... and one day, I woke up. Thanks to you, I discovered my power once again. The power to turn back the hands of time. A power that could only belong to a goddess."

"Sothis, what are you fucking saying -- "

"Yes. That is my name, isn't it. Sothis... the one who watches over Fódlan and the creatures dwelling there. She who died and then returned." Sothis opens her eyes, and once again they're glowing green, with slit pupils and an otherworldly air.

"I am Sothis, the Beginning. The progenitor god."

Hands turning back time. Rhea stumbling over a name. Ever-present, all-seeing, all-knowing. An awakening, a response to a primal yearning -- to save a life.

Huh. Bratty child in my head, god, what's the difference?

Byleth sniffles, wipes her nose, and says, "...Y'know, that tracks."

Sothis chuckles. "Deadpan as ever, child." She takes a deep breath and uncrosses her legs, idly tracing her fingers through the air. Golden trails of light follow. "There is but one thing left to do to save us from this darkness of eternity. I must now use the full extent of my powers... However, I lack a body of my own."

Byleth isn't stupid. She can tell what's coming next -- some speech about sacrifice, and duty, and being a big damn hero. "No -- "

"Yes, Byleth. I must relinquish all the power that I have... to you. The time has come for you and I to join as one. And when that comes to pass... then I shall disappear."

No. No, nononono. Not another one. I -- I just lost Jeralt, I can't --

"NO! I won't fucking allow it!" Byleth shouts. "I've lost so much, I can't lose you, too! You've -- you've been with me all along, I can't -- please, don't leave me -- "

Sothis shakes her head, a rueful and sad smile on her face. "You misunderstand. When I say disappear, I do not mean that all I am will be no more. My soul will join with yours, and you and I will never be apart. We will be together, forever. From here on out, I am you... and you are me."

"But -- "

"You are, however, correct in a way... I will no longer have the chance to speak with you. I shall miss it." A tear tracks down her cheek. "So long have I been on this path with you. Through you, I was able to see and hear this world. I was even able to watch you fumble and fall over yourself, for one angry wet cat of a boy. I... have not felt so entertained in a very long time."

Byleth feels herself blush, knowing that Sothis has been there for every single agonizing moment of her panic, and her foolishness, and her lovesick pining over Felix. Every furious deliberation, all the mental gymnastics. Everything. A bittersweet smile touches her lips and she sobs out a laugh. "...Glad you had fun watching me fuck myself over, at least."

"Hah! No, I believe you have quite a decent chance of success. Stick to the strategy you just employed and you will not fail. He is clearly just as stupid about you as you are about him, I do not understand your hesitance. Just kiss the fool. For real." Sothis shakes her head again fondly. "My feedback has hardly been becoming of a goddess, but... you are right. It was fun."

This isn't -- this can't be happening, I -- everyone keeps going away --

"For all that you have done... thank you. I'm glad that it was you to whom my fate was bound, Byleth."

I don't know where I'd be, if our fates weren't bound.

"...Thank you. Wouldn't have it any other way," rasps Byleth, head hung low and fists clenched. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, child. I do." She can hear Sothis shifting and standing. "Now... enough navel-gazing. We must pray. For if we share a wish, our spirits two will join as one..." Steps echo through the void as she descends.

"My wish is yours. And your wish...is to return to the forest, stop the enemy, and rescue the little ones. No need for words. I know your heart as though it were my own."

Her bare feet pad softly across the damp, dark stone. Byleth's tears won't stop flowing, even as green, reptilian eyes meet her own.

"Your will and mine are now as one. Both sides of time are revealed to you, and you alone."

Sothis raises her hand, and Byleth follows suit. Golden light erupts from the abandoned throne, surrounding the two of them in a ring of flame and hope. The progenitor god -- her brain roommate, her bratty little tagalong -- lifts off the ground, floats toward her, and smiles. 

"You know I am the beginning. With this power... what shall you do? Who shall you be?"

As their fingers touch and Sothis phases through her, Byleth sees a single tear track down her best fucking friend's cheek. "I look forward to seeing it... and I wish I could be next to you, when you find out."

Sothis burns away into golden flame. Byleth screams, desperate and angry, as another pillar of her life crumbles. But the amber ashes left behind suddenly coalesce around her and soak into her skin. The sobbing peters out and the shaking calms. Something comforting settles over her, like... like tiny hands patting her back, or a soft voice hushing her, or high-pitched, haughty laughter huffing from slightly behind and above her. A security blanket of memories and sensations, almost. Those words echo in her mind.

"I am you... and you are me... what will you do?"

...I'll make you proud, is what I'll fucking do.

Byleth's head snaps back and light erupts from every single orifice, lighting the void up like it's midday. Her hair whips in a sudden vortex. The Sword of the Creator heats up, glows, and hums, louder and louder, until it's literally burning, brighter than the sun and ringing like a bell against her hip. She draws it from the stupid fucking harness contraption thing that Sothis always thought was so fucking funny, and with another wordless scream she breaks the world.

Your sacrifice won't be in vain, Sothis.

31st day of the Guardian Moon, 1181 (01/31/1181)

When Byleth carves her way out of perdition, she's greeted with the sight of her precious noble brats fighting for their lives. Annette and Mercedes spin around back to back, the strain clearly showing on their faces as they cast spell after spell with nearly-empty tanks. Blood tracks down from a nasty gash on Annette's forehead, and Mercedes's fingers tremble so hard some of her sigils come out crooked and fizzle.

Next to them, Dedue stands between Dimitri and an incoming storm of combatants, trying to keep them as far away as possible from the main body of their forces. Ashe uses him as cover, sending arrow after arrow into exposed joints and through visors. But the enemy still beats them back, ever so slowly -- it's only a matter of time until there's nowhere left to move.

To the other side, her Wolves battle valiantly against a Demonic Beast, under the direction of the Savage Mockingbird. He and Balthus get right in the thing's big ugly face, stabbing and smashing to keep its attention off the casters. Hapi hurls slowing blast after slowing blast, ripping away at its armor with purple-black energy that's way too similar to the stuff that almost just killed Byleth herself. Behind Hapi, Constance holds her hands to the sky with her eyes closed, chanting rhythmically and tracing a massive sigil in the air. Oh, damn. Bolting. Good job, von Nuvelle.

That leaves the noblest brats -- the Faerghus Four, as Sothis called them sometimes -- in combat against fucking Solon.

Sylvain and Ingrid both wield their Relics. Ingrid swoops down on her pegasus and yells as she swings downward with her flowing spear. Her Crest activates, blasting blue light across the battlefield. A wall of purple energy sparks into being, but Lúin's point manages to pierce through it enough to crack the field. Sylvain takes advantage of the new weakness, thrusting the Lance of Ruin's eerily twitching head straight into the fault line and triggering his own Crest. More cracks spiderweb through the haze.

"I will plunge my spear into your ribcage and parade you around like a standard," snarls a voice so distorted with fury that she almost doesn't recognize that it's Dimitri. "Be grateful that this is not Areadbhar!"

The Crest of Blaiddyd blazes to life above Dimitri's head, and he charges forward bellowing. The spear in his hands shatters into a thousand pieces alongside the barrier when his strike connects.

"GO, FELIX!"

A silent blur streaks past the Prince and Solon actually has to rear backward and dodge when Felix appears. His eyes are blown wide with rage, tear tracks are drying on his cheeks, and his jaw is clenched so hard the tendons on his neck stand out like cables. Once, twice, thrice he cuts through the air, strobing the Crest of Fraldarius, then thrusts his palm out to blast lightning right in Solon's ugly face.

Solon dodges, and parries with magic, and straight-up swallows the lightning with a sick, smug grin. "Without the Fell Star, you are all worthless." 

On Felix's follow-up stab, he twists to the side and grabs the silver sword in his glowing purple fist. Purple vines trail down the blade and lock her favorite student's grip, trapping him. Solon raises his other hand and his grin grows wider and wider.

"Ahh, but she chose quite a strong pet. You will make an excellent test subject..."

Don't touch him. And he's not my pet.

As Solon thrusts his hand forward and Felix tries to blast him with a surge of raw mana, and Constance's spell just barely starts to go off, Byleth looks inward, to the place where Sothis used to be. Instead of asking for permission, this time she sits herself upon the empty throne, and wills.

Glass shatters. The hands of time turn backwards.

Except it isn't the glass of a clock, and they're not the hands of time. It's the fabric of reality that she's shattering... and it's her own hands that claw back time itself.

The world scrolls backward and returns to its normal colors, right at the moment where someone grabbed her favorite student's sword.

"SOLON."

The entire battlefield freezes completely. Students and enemies alike stare slack-jawed in her direction. Constance's spell goes off again and kills the Beast this time, but her victory screech comes to a strangled, surprised halt.

Felix looks like he's seeing a ghost, an angel, a dream, and a nightmare all at once. Solon, in his sheer shock at her continued existence, actually drops him and backs away in fear.

Byleth feels the tear in reality blazing behind her still. A snarl rips from her throat. She grasps the Sword of the Creator in a single hand and points it straight at the would-be architect of the demise of everything and everyone she's ever loved.

"Free lesson for you. If you try to kill someone, finish 'em off the first time. 'Cuz if you don't..."

She kicks forward, and the ground buckles beneath her as she launches herself with otherworldly speed at him. The world slows down and kicks into sharper focus at the same time. She knows she's moving almost too fast for the eye to see, but the power thrumming in her veins and thundering in her temples makes it feel like nothing more than a pleasant stroll.

Her flight ends right behind Solon, and before he even has the time to look over his shoulder at him she screams and runs him right through with her weapon. Blinding golden light blasts from behind her, and she knows that the Crest of Flames burns bright like wings from her back. The bone blade sings as it tears through his flesh and bursts out his front, and glowing rays of light trace through his veins.

Hah. Got you right where Kronya got Jeralt. Sothis... Sothis would've loved that.

It's a cold comfort now, but... it's enough. She smiles, and knows that there is no warmth in her face. Something feels like it's pricking her bottom lip, but she ignores it.

"They'll come back pissed off."

"Hurk -- " gasps Solon, all his various spells and enchantments unraveling around him and nauseating dark mana falling from his nerveless fingers. "So the Fell Star... consumes even the darkness itself..." 

Byleth tilts her head blankly. "Um. Okay?"

She twists the blade and blasts him point-blank with her own bolt of lightning. With one final choked rattle, Solon dissolves into dust and ash. Her attention turns to his crony forces, who are still struck dumb. On a whim, she decides to take a page from Felix's book and growls. It's a good growl. There's a nice, bassy rumble to it, deep in her chest, that she's never felt before.

Every last one of them, to a man, blanches and scurries away. No resistance whatsoever. Just fear.

...That was fast. They looked terrified. Come to think of it... so does everyone else. Why is everyone looking at me like I grew a second head? Or, I dunno, like I have fangs, or something?

"P-professor...?" whispers Sylvain. "Your... your hair is..."

"Chatterbox! You came back with new chompers!"

"Your eyes are like Jeralt's," blurts Felix as he jerks to her side, hesitantly reaching for her hand. "And... and they're green."

Huh?

Dumbfounded, Byleth grabs a lock of her hair and shoves it in front of her face. To her utter shock, it's mint fucking green, not blue. Her fingers go to her teeth, which are a little sharper. Especially her canines, which are long and pointy enough to prick blood from the pad of her finger. 

Holy shit, I actually have fangs.

...Like Jeralt's? What does that mean? His eyes weren't green... Wait, Sothis's eyes were green and --

Suddenly, the world splits into two. A pounding headache thunders in Byleth's temples, her body lights up with pain, and she loses her balance as all the strength of the Goddess drains out of her. Her students gasp and scream.

Felix catches her in his arms with an oof before she hits the ground, his golden eyes brimming with tears of relief and worry. She her vision unfocuses and blurs, but she manages to pull herself together enough to find his face. His expression flips rapidly between fury and naked, joyful relief. His jaw's working overtime to keep up.

He's alive, and whole, and more or less unhurt, despite her mistakes. Finally, finally, Byleth lets herself relax in his hold, smiles, and mumbles, "Oh. Afternoon, Fraldarius. M'home."

Tears glitter in his eyes and he's struck speechless for a few moments. Finally, he manages to grit out, "...Welcome back. Don't ever fucking do that again."

"Mm. 'Kay," she sighs, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. "This is good. 'M gonna pass out now, I think. That sounds nice."

"Wh -- no, that does not sound fucking nice -- MERCEDES!"

Mercedes staggers over and holds a flickering sigil over Byleth's body, grimacing at what it tells her. "We need to go back to the monastery. Felix, can you carry her gently?"

"Please, Felix, allow me to -- "

He shifts and Byleth can feel the bassy growl from his ribcage, which would do a lot of things to her if she wasn't delirious from deferred grief and didn't need to nap for maybe five years. "I'll do it. More gently than you can do anything, boar."

The last thing Byleth remembers before sleep takes her is lips pressing to her forehead for just the barest instant, and strong arms tightening around her to keep her safe and secure. If she had any energy left to think or mana left to spark, she'd be making an entire light show.

I... Sothis, you'd be losing your mind at this. Well, since you're me, and I'm losing my mind... I guess you are, too. Heh.

Goddess, I hope I can make you proud. I hope this will be worth it. I miss you. I... I wish I'd told you that you were my best friend, before you left. But... maybe you already knew that.

...Aw, dammit. My clothes don't match my hair anymore.

Chapter Text

30th day of the Lone Moon, 1181 (03/30/1181)

The only time Felix can remember things going to shit faster is when his father brought home Glenn's broken, mangled armor. But this is very close.

In the space of a paltry couple of months -- really, a handful of weeks -- the Imperial princess went mad, the boar showed everyone his true colors as Felix always knew he would, and the entire continent marched itself to the precipice of an all-out war.

And his Professor might also have maybe kissed him and then turned into a goddess. That development also potentially bears mentioning.

She's currently sitting cross-legged in her bed, hunched over a hastily scrawled-on map of the monastery with a cooling cup of tea in one hand and a pen in the other. Felix has taken up residence on the edge of the bed next to her, a cup of tea in his own hand and a list of draft battle formations on the nightstand in front of him. He can barely read it in the dim light of the candles haphazardly scattered around the room.

He turns his head sideways, just to glance at her. Like he's been doing a lot. He tells himself it's because she's changed, because she looks different and he finds it jarring. But deep down, he knows the reason, irrational as it may be.

I'm terrified she'll somehow disappear again. I need to make sure she's still here.

She is, in fact, still there. Instead of the blue he so thoroughly associated with her, he sees a messy bun of green hair, and glowing pale green eyes focused on her paper. A sharp fang worries at her bottom lip. He remembers softness grazing against his own and stops breathing for a few moments. This specific thing keeps happening, whenever he looks at her lips.

It was just a fraction of a second, really. Barely any pressure. In fact, it could conceivably have been nothing -- just her leaning closer to ensure her spell had the maximum amount of force, to push him away. Felix still froze, though, because for that fraction of a second, it felt like Byleth was kissing him. And then she decided to try and be a hero and shoved him out of danger. She tried to sacrifice herself for him.

The time between Byleth screaming and her ripping reality asunder to return from the dead, bright as a burning star, is lost to him. All he remembers is silent, white-hot, blinding rage, and his Crest triggering again and again. But she did come back, stronger than ever, and when she fell he was the one she let catch her. And as everyone turned around to rush back... she didn't exactly recoil when he hesitantly kissed her forehead, overcome with emotion.

When she woke up, the very first thing she did was reach for his hand, look him in the eye, and say "I fucked up. I'm sorry. I... I don't want to lose you. I've lost so much of me in the last few months. Please don't leave, I know I made you mad, but... I promise I won't let this happen again. Please don't... please don't let go of me."

Any questions and anger he may have had about Byleth's methods, or her foolish thinking, or her hypocrisy, were banished the instant he saw the desperate tears in her eyes. All he could do was tighten his grip, fold her shaking body in his arms, and say, "Okay."

She's stayed within touching distance of him ever since, fingers usually linked with his own when no one's looking. And he rarely lets her leave his sight, except for when she retires to her quarters. Sometimes he even stays outside them like a guard, when he can't sleep.

But tonight, as has become custom in the last week or so, she's dragged him inside from his vigil at an ungodly hour. So here he is, in his Professor's bed, in a candlelit room.

Sylvain would never let this go, if he knew.

"Felix. I can feel you staring," Byleth murmurs without moving her attention from the map and breaking his reverie. "Need something?"

"I..." I need to do what we did again. I need it to last longer. I need... I need to know it wasn't just a maneuver. Did you actually want to... kiss me?

Because... I might want you to. Maybe. I don't fucking -- I don't know what to think. And I don't want to fuck this up. And I don't want to... push you away by asking. I wouldn't care if it was anyone else, but... you're too valuable. Too important.

What he ends up saying is, "How the fuck can you see? I can barely read this paper."

"...It's bright as hell in here, though? I honestly was thinking of blowing some out -- oh." She jerks, looks off to the side, and grimaces. "It's... guess my vision is just... sharper, now. Sorry. I..."

Felix grunts. "It's fine. I'll just have to compensate to catch up when we spar. Sight isn't my only sense."

"I doubt you can hear that piece of paper talking about where we should put von Albrecht," she snarks, tossing the pen and map onto the bed and turning toward him with her cup in both hands and a smirk on her face. "Bet you wouldn't hear me coming, either."

"I'll take that bet," he fires back instantly. "Transformed or no, I know the way you move. When you come for me, I'll know." Byleth actually blushes at his response, and it takes Felix a second to realize what they both just said. 

I choose to blame Sylvain.

He clears his throat and blunders further forward. "You sound like you. That didn't change when you... came back."

Byleth freezes, then sags. Felix facepalms internally, knowing he's stuck his fucking foot in his mouth yet again somehow. While he stews, she starts worrying at her lip again and turns her glowing stare down into her tea. "So much of me did, though."

"Tch. Superficial changes at best." Felix puts down his paper and turns to face her as well, awkwardly crossing his legs to mirror her. "It doesn't matter to me what color your hair is. Or your eyes. You fight like a warrior. You think pragmatically. You're flexible, but you don't let up. What you have, you use to your advantage. What you lack, you plan around. That's what's important, and none of that has changed. You aren't any less skilled just because you're green and bite. In fact... I've quite enjoyed your new ferocity when we train."

He glances over at the formation sheet and wrinkles his brow while Byleth gapes at him. "Speaking of planning. I'm not in any of these formations."

"I-I was trying to decide," stammers Byleth, snapping out of her stupor. She scrambles for her map. "You're too fucking good of an asset not to put in the front. But if I put all of the Faerghus Four together -- " she blatantly ignores his spluttering at the moniker -- "where Dimitri needs to be, then that wing will be absolutely stacked. Dedue will refuse to go anywhere but His Highness's side. Sylvain needs Ingrid or you to keep him in check, otherwise he'll either overextend or hold back too much. Ingrid's air cavalry, but moving between wings makes her vulnerable as shit to arrows."

She flicks another spot on the map. "Ashe, Annette, and Mercedes can't hold a wing on their own, but if I put you there you'll be doing all the close-range work. That's way too dangerous. Then there's the Wolves. Balthus, bless him, is still kind of a fucking idiot. He needs another of the rats to keep him in check." Felix smirks. She's using my term.

"Constance and Hapi need a solid defense in front of them, they're too squishy. And Rhea refuses to have me anywhere but at her fucking side. So I have to figure out -- "

"Von Albrecht, the summoner rat, Ubert, Ingrid, Sylvain, Annette one side." Felix moves her fingers away -- I still haven't figured out what the fucking sparks are but at least it's easier to see -- and leans further into her side. She's incredibly warm. A furnace, almost. "Von Albrecht can heal himself if he can land a punch. He's a survivor, and knows when to retreat, usually. Sylvain and Ingrid can keep distance between swings. So Annette can split focus between healing and killing, backed up by the experiment. Ubert gets to prioritize other archers and act as backline support."

He circles the other formation. "The boar, his dog, Mercedes, and the other rats on the other side. Frankly, the boar is fucking uncontrollable at this point. His sole focus will be the Princess. On the one hand, he'll be absolutely unstoppable on the battlefield, but on the other... he's a fucking monster."

The last words come out a snarl, and Felix watches Byleth's face fall in sadness. Strange to think about how readable she's become. Maybe even more than before. But he shoves down the crawling horror and dread at what he knows everyone will see, come tomorrow. "The dog will wade into the blood he leaves behind. Mercedes can heal essentially from anywhere, and doesn't need to worry about healing herself, so during his rampage the boar will at least be protected. Leclerc can direct in place of the boar, and von Nuvelle will need his strong direction because of that ridiculous affliction of hers."

"Wh -- actually..." She squints and hums. "Mm. You're... right. All of that checks out, except one thing."

Byleth's finger prods him right in the chest with a flare of light, and by the time he's finished looking up her face is a whisper away from his. This close up, he can see the sharp glint of her fangs, exaggerated by her ever so slight buckteeth... and the shifting of her pupils to an intent, reptilian stare as her eyes narrow.

Does she know she's doing that?

Why... is it hard to breathe? Why can't I look away?

"You didn't give yourself a spot. You planning on ditching, Fraldarius?"

The accusation, joking as it may be, brings enough fire back into Felix for him to lean forward in return, pressing his forehead against hers and glaring right back once his vision adjusts from the spark.

"Not a chance in hell. My place is by your side. I told you, I pledged my sword to you until the day I make you yield."

Byleth's breathing hitches and goes uneven. Felix physically feels her go off-balance, and when she jerks backward to re-center herself he can see her eyes flicking down somewhere low on his face before locking back with his.

She keeps fucking doing that. What is she looking at?

She rallies, though, and her brow furrows again. "I'm air cavalry, Felix. You know that. You aren't exactly gonna be able to run alongside me."

"Tch. Irrelevant. You need ground support -- the zealot, the assassin, and the blowhard will all be focused on keeping the Archbishop unharmed. Annette's father is worthless and will throw himself on the first sword he sees if he thinks it'll help the fucking boar. And you'll need to dismount eventually, which means you need someone at your back. I'm the only one in the Lions both fast and strong enough to get to you, when you need me. Or do you not trust me to -- "

"Felix, I trust you more than anyone or anything on this earth. S'one of the reasons why I fell  -- " Byleth blurts, before slapping her hand over her mouth and looking away.

Felix furrows his brow. Fell what? 

After a breath, she clears her throat and says, "S'one of the reasons why I feel like you could lead another branch. I trust you to make the right choices."

The right choice is you. You're where I belong. And...don't think I didn't fucking notice you changing your words.

"Then trust me when I say I need to be with you. And what were you going to say before? Fell where? Fell what? That didn't make any sense."

"I-I... um," she babbles, suddenly very interested in the ceiling. "Nothing. Hey, I get Mercedes since she's like everyone's big sister, but since when are you on first name basis with Annette?"

He blinks. That's what you fixate on? "I caught her singing and now she's attempting to bribe me for some reason. I just want to know what the songs are about. We've gotten more familiar. Don't change the subject."

Something unfamiliar passes over her face, but it's quickly shaken off. "Okay. I'm sorry. It's... it can wait. After tomorrow, when things have settled, and I can focus on... stuff. We can... we can talk then."

It's been two fucking months, Byleth. But I can use this. Time to strike.

"Fine. I can wait. But in exchange, I fight by your side."

She heaves a sigh and turns to lean back against the headboard. Her eyes close, and her hand searches for his to twine their fingers together and squeeze. I should've just done this, if I wanted to properly read. "...Okay. You can come with me. I promise, I'll talk to you after we win."

Felix nods, and they sit in silence for awhile. Byleth doesn't open her eyes. "Heh. Guess I should've guessed this would happen. S'my own fault, I was the one that asked you to walk with me."

He clambers fully onto the bed next to her, leans back, and closes his eyes too. "I... don't regret saying yes. If that's what you wanted to know. No matter how many times you ask, the answer is yes. If I want to beat you, I need to be by you. To learn. And to stay sharp."

Her head gently falls onto his shoulder. She hums, and nestles, and he's glad her eyes are also closed because the sensation sends heat flooding into his cheeks.

"Mm. I... I don't regret asking. If that's what you wanted to know."

They fall asleep together like that. Felix's neck hurts like shit in the morning, but when Byleth presses close to his back and floods the cramped muscle with white magic, he decides it was worth it.

31st day of the Lone Moon, 1181 (03/31/1181)

Under Byleth's expert guidance, and with his own suggestions about unit placement, the Monastery goes untouched. They hold out, stalwart and unmoving. His Professor seems to be everywhere at exactly at the right time, but never overextends. She stays within his reach, and Felix's heart soars along with her. Even Edelgard looks like she will fall to the boar -- who's predictably out of fucking position.

The boar has her on the back foot, her axe furiously spinning to ward off the ferocious and untamed strokes and stabs from his spear. Raw, painful growls and snarls rip from his throat. "I will scatter the fragments of your skull to the four winds, you filthy traitor -- "

"Hubert, GO!"

"Yes, Your Majesty," comes the silky, smug voice of her own lapdog, and spikes of darkness coalesce from a sudden flood of purple smoke. The boar prince sees them and jerks to the side, expecting to dodge.

But they were never intended for him.

Dedue roars as the dark magic rips through his armor like it isn't even there, and he falls to his knees. A panicked Mercedes starts chanting and scrawling, but the blood pouring out of him doesn't stop. The boar freezes in place, horror warring with rage and his body tugged in two different directions. Edelgard takes the opportunity to cleave down at his head, and only a last-minute dodge and sprawl into the sand saves the erstwhile heir to Faerghus.

"Send in the reserves! UNCLE, NOW!" she bellows, backpedaling with her finger to the sky. The Crest of fucking Flames burns itself into the air above her, alongside a massive blast of fire. Her troops cheer and rally.

"What the HELL?!" barks Byleth so loudly that he can hear her even though she's on Morus above him. "How does she -- " 

Before Felix can can voice his own confusion, the Archbishop blurs into place by him, also staring up at Byleth. "Professor. You cannot fall here. Everybody in the monastery, young and old, student or otherwise, is in your hands. You must save them."

The moment Rhea mentions students, Byleth snaps Morus's reins and charges down. "Felix, get on, I'm not risking you getting lost in the scramble -- "

Felix doesn't give a shit about his fear of flying in this moment. All he cares about is protecting his Professor while she gets everyone out. So he sheathes his blade, leaps into the saddle, and grips Byleth's middle tight. "I'm adding to the deal. Tell me what these fucking sparks are when we talk."

"Sure, fine, just -- hold tight -- "

But no one launches arrows or spears or magic against them as they pelt hell-mell towards the vulnerable evacuation routes, raining magic assaults down where they can reach. In fact, once Yuri and Hapi appear -- posts abandoned, but for once Felix agrees with the rat king about what's important -- it goes swimmingly.

Then a fucking dragon appears and everything goes to hell.

Beams of red light scythe across the canyon and through the Imperial reinforcements like a hot knife through butter. Byleth instinctively grounds Morus and drags Felix with her as she dives for cover. "Leclerc! Sitrep, what the fuck is -- "

"It's not Imperial. Friend, that's our fucking dragon," hisses Yuri, spinning his sword and dragging Hapi by the hand to another bit of rubble. Felix notices glowing bones and glittering metal wrapped around the rat king's sword hand. It's a fucking Hero's Relic, humming with Crest resonance and power.

Wait. When the fuck did he get his hands on that? I thought the Church took it after that mission.

Yuri shakes his head, bringing Felix back to the present. No matter. If it's helping us, then he can fucking have it.

"I have no clue where that came from, which means no one does. As in, literally no one and nothing has mentioned one since the Goddess walked the earth, and that came from our library. Not yours."

"Which means someone went out of their way to keep people from knowing dragons are still kicking," mutters Byleth, worrying again at her lip with a fang. Wait... her fangs look similar to that thing's.

"Yuri-bird, you can -- I need both of these to cast," mumbles Hapi, swinging their joined hands. "If I die, I wanna at least be able to say I tried."

"No one's dying. Least of all you, rare little bird," Yuri says smoothly, but nonetheless he drops her hand. "You need to see those pretty flowers back home again, don't you? Have to stay alive to do that."

Hapi fucking smiles, which rocks the foundation of the earth to its core. "Yeah, yeah. Chatterbox, where do you wanna put us?"

Byleth opens her mouth to strategize, but a sudden pained bellow rips through the battlefield. They all whip around and watch as the dragon is beset by an entire horde of demonic beasts seemingly from out of nowhere. Hapi immediately pales and stumbles backward.

"N-no. I didn't sigh at all. That wasn't me. It -- it can't have -- "

"Obviously it wasn't you, we've been watching you the whole time," growls Felix. He unsheathes his blade and points it to a group in the distance, a flickering purple light giving them away. "The beasts came from that direction. Has to be those figures."

"Wherever they came from, they're turning the tide," says Yuri grimly. "The dragon's going under."

Byleth's eyes flash and turn reptilian. Something about her demeanor changes -- her movements become smoother, more deliberate, more predatory. The Sword, already glowing, begins to blaze with bright light. "Not if I can help it. Felix, c'mon."

They jump onto Morus's waiting saddle and streak across the battlefield, dodging arrows and blasts of magic and javelins, until they're almost at the dragon's position. Byleth whips her Relic around and shatters one of the beasts with a single blow, letting out a victory whoop. "Oh, they're weak as shit! Felix, go!"

He bares his teeth and traces a sigil, and the familiar tempest roils through his magic circuits as lightning crackles to life between his fingers. Another beast falls as Felix's Thoron spell chews through its head. "Child's play."

And then a ballista shot smashes into Morus, shattering her ribcage. Byleth and Felix careen out of the sky on her back, even as they both frantically pump white magic into the pegasus to try and right themselves. The world spins, and everything goes black when they hit the ground.

When Felix snaps his eyes open again with a gasp, he immediately shoots up and looks for Byleth. Judging by the surroundings, the two of them crash-landed on the edge of a cliff, somewhat near the still-struggling dragon. After a few panicked moments, he sees her bowed over the slowly heaving body of Morus, ribcage still laid bare.

Her hands hover over Morus's head, golden light slowly wafting down from her palms and blue light pulsing from her wrists. Blood pours from her nostrils and drips onto Morus's dirtied white coat, mixing with the red already soaked into it. Felix's heart twists.

Morus is dying. Healing won't save her. She's... Byleth's soothing her pain, before she goes.

He staggers to Byleth's side, ignoring the screaming and roaring and thundering all around them, and says, "Byleth. I'm coming towards you." Best not to risk her breaking my nose... again.

All he gets is a nod in response, but that's enough. He slowly lays a hand on her shoulder. "I..."

In the time it takes for him to think of something, anything to say, Morus's violently rolling eyeball stills, and the panting stops. Byleth shrinks in on herself, reaching over to close her mount's eye and bury her face in her mane.

"Another piece of me," whispers Byleth before he can say anything. "Another piece of me is gone again. It all keeps fucking slipping, and I don't know how to hold on to anything when the world keeps shifting and changing. And it feels like I never get to properly say goodbye, or say how important things are to me. That I love them."

Felix can't say anything to that. He physically can't. The words won't come out, again. But he turns Byleth to face him and presses their foreheads together, wiping the tears on her cheeks away with his thumb. She takes a shuddering breath and grabs his hands, leather on skin, before he can take them away.

"I loved my dad. I... I lost a friend that I cared about deeply, loved like I think people love sisters. I... I don't know, I've never had one." She coughs a watery little laugh. "I didn't show it very often, but I loved Morus. But you saw. You came with me sometimes, when I'd go out in the middle of the night to brush her and fly. I... you were the only one I trusted to be around me, when I did that. And... now Morus is gone."

She sniffles and dashes an arm across her face to clean the blood and snot and dirt. When she moves her hand again, it rests against the crook of his neck. "I never told you, but... I invited you so I could look at you under the stars. Helped make me feel better, when I was stressed out. Or when I couldn't figure out how to do a lesson plan."

What?

"I... Felix, I'm so tired. Tired of changing, tired of losing. But you... you've always been as hard-headed and stubborn as ever. You know what you want, how to get it, and you stick to it. You just... you're just always there. No bullshit, no frills. Just strength. You're good at what you do. It's... having a rock has been so fucking nice."

"A... rock? What?"

"Shut up. Just... just let me finish." She takes a deep breath and tightens her grip. "I said I'd talk to you after this battle. But I... if we don't..."

"We will, Byleth -- " Where is this coming from? Where is she going?! Why do I feel so -- pulled? She's so fucking close. So warm. I can't stop looking at her lips. What is she -- 

"I don't want to risk it. So... I'll tell you now. That friend told me just to fucking spit it out. I should've listened earlier. In my room, last night, you wanted to know what I almost said. When I told you that I trust you more than anyone or anything on this earth. It's one of the reasons I fell..."

Byleth opens her eyes, and it feels like she's laying his soul wide open. Reptilian, glowing green, and beautiful, even when brimming with tears. Her mint green hair tickles the sides of his face and blows gently in the chill breeze. She takes a shuddering, desperate breath, nestles her fingers behind his ears, and cups his cheeks.

"Why I fell in love with you."

Lightning strikes. He's frozen to the spot. His pulse thunders in his ears, and he can't do anything at all. She's holding him captive under her watch, and unloading an entire fusillade of strikes directly into him. Felix's heart soars.

That's... is that what this is? Is that what's been eating away at me and building over the course of the year I've known you? Why I pledged my sword to you?

Did... did I really mean my heart?

She laughs again and smiles through the tears. "Hah. That face is one of my favorites. Like a fish."

"Byleth, you -- "

"Still not done. Hush." She doesn't blink, just like her father. "You've always been my favorite student. You're the perfect training partner. You make me want to be stronger, faster, better. To keep winning, so you keep chasing me. I... passing up another chance to do this would make me a fucking fool. So... I hope you're okay with this. I think you might be. I'm... I'm gonna do this right. Not like two months ago."

Felix instinctively grabs onto Byleth's waist for dear life. Two months ago, she -- is -- is she -- ?!

She licks her lips, and her tongue ghosts over a fang, and tears pour down her cheeks, and her eyes flick down to a point low on his face before she closes them. Warm breath puffs against him as she says, "Sorry if I make you bleed."

Finally, he's able to choke some words past his throat, and he growls, "I'd spill all my blood for you, if you asked. A pinprick is nothing. Now make your move." 

"Always so impatient," giggles Byleth, and then soft lips are touching his and there's a tongue ghosting along them and the taste of blood fills his mouth when those fangs do actually draw blood. Bright blue and gold sparks light up around them so bright Felix can see them through his eyelids, and the world narrows down to just the two of them.

He kisses back. Just as hard, and fast, biting her lip back in turn and tilting her head. When he tangles his fingers in her hair, he can hear that damnable, undoing sound Byleth makes, can feel it vibrating against his lips. A snarl tips through them both, and she makes a different sound, almost like a desperate whimper. They nearly topple over when Byleth's body yields to him, but at the last second they have to break for air.

She grins at him, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, and fangs glinting in the light. "Damn. Really should've done that sooner. Top marks, Fraldarius."

"You're not a bad training partner. This is no exception," he pants back with a matching grin. A certainty settles over him, and he leans forward with determination. His hand cups her cheek, now, and he presses his forehead back to hers.

She hums, and laughs, and cries some more. "That one's my most favorite. I love your smile."

I know what this is now. I know what it's always been. This pull in my chest, the way I can't look away from her, how she is in the edge of my sight and in my dreams every night. I know.

I will fucking get these words out of me even if it kills me.

"I -- you -- argh -- " He groans in frustration at himself, and forces the feelings out of his throat past the repression and the distance and the cynicism, while she tearfully snorts at his consternation. Internally, he pleads that for once he can just say it right.

"Byleth... I lo -- "

Her eyes blow wide, but before he can finish their euphoria is interrupted by a blast of purple flame. Byleth whips her sword up to parry and deflects two more, while Felix triggers his Crest, throws up his hands, and scatters a larger blast to the winds with a hasty defense spell.

"Hello, Fell Star," sneers a twisted, gray-skinned man with spiked facial hair. "Am I interrupting something?"

Neither of them waste their breath. Lightning and silver twine with blazing bone as Felix and Byleth fall into their choreography. The Crests at Byleth's wrists match the one flaring above Felix's head, and the brilliant gold of Byleth's own shines bright above them all. The mages attempting to surround them fall to whistling flashes and fiery slashes as they follow each other through a dance of gleaming swords.

But the gray-skinned man just smirks at them while they cut down his coterie. Only then does Felix see the sigil he's been quietly tracing move into view from behind his back.

"Byleth, GUARD!"

She's already ahead of him. But the blast is too strong. She makes eye contact with him, slit pupils blown so wide they swallow her irises, as she's ripped from his side and skids to the edge of the cliff. Once he sees her positioning, the gray man raises his palm to the heavens and lets loose a sinister laugh. The sky rumbles like grinding gears, and the entire battlefield lights up. Spears of light emerge from the clouds, and the gray man clenches his fist, murmuring in a language Felix can't fucking parse.

The world explodes, but all Felix sees is Byleth falling with the crumbling cliffside, hand outstretched to him, too far away to stop gravity from taking away someone he loves.

"NO!"

As he tries to throw himself off the cliff after Byleth, the ghost of her fangs still foremost in his memory, a soft orange blur tackles into him from the side. Green energy lances out from it and sends two enemy soldiers tumbling off the edge.

"Felix! What are you doing?!" screams Annette.

"Byleth -- "

Her face falls and tears well in her eyes. She buries her face in his chest and tightens her fingers on his shoulders. "No... Felix, it's too late, if she went over then -- "

"I don't fucking care," he snarls, violently trying to throw her off. I can't -- I can't lose her, I swore I'd catch up with her --

"FELIX!!!" yells Ingrid, skidding down on her pegasus with Sylvain in tow, Relics alight. Somehow, Annette manages to keep Felix pinned to the ground with a cage of wind until his childhood friends can wrestle his flailing limbs down.

"Come on, we have to get out of here, Seteth ordered us to find the Professor and retreat!"

"Ing," murmurs Sylvain grimly, "We might be too late. Her pegasus is over there... and Felix would never leave her side. If her mount is gone, and he's -- "

Alone. No, no. I can't be. After so long, after thinking that alone was all I needed to be, I finally found something, someone, I didn't want to lose. I can't be --

"If he's alone, then she's gone. The Professor is -- "

"Don't you fucking dare say it!" shouts Felix. "She's not gone, she -- I need to -- LET ME GO, ANNETTE!"

"I CAN'T DO THAT, FELIX!!! You -- she'd never want you to hurt yourself, you have to listen to us!"

Ingrid's eyes widen and she bows her head. "Oh, no... Felix..." She reaches out, and the expression on her face is a perfect mirror of the one burned into Felix's memory -- from when Glenn left them all.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he roars, thrashing and gnashing his teeth. "It isn't -- she -- I can't -- "

I can't be alone. Not again. Glenn -- and I -- she didn't even leave anything behind --

"LET ME GO!!!"

Sylvain reaches down to cup Felix's cheek and nods to Annette. "Fe, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for this. But we promised her that we'd see tomorrow. You and I can't cash in on our promise today, either. So... this is for your own good.

How dare you?!

The last thing Felix sees is Annette, sobbing, gold light twinkling between her fingertips as she sings her incantation and draws a sigil over his face.

"Hush, weary soldier, dream a little dream; one soft and sweet as saghert and cream... don't fight it, Felix, please, I hate seeing you like this, just -- sleep -- "

Her palms gently press to his temples, and everything goes black. Gone.

But she isn't. She can't be. I will find her. I swear it. She can't be gone.

...I don't know what I'll do if she's gone.

--end