Chapter Text
Byleth took a breath, exhaled, and knocked twice as was her habit. The Sword of the Creator rested in its sheath on her belt, her hand idly atop its pommel as she awaited a response.
“You may enter, Byleth.” Rhea spoke clearly despite the wooden door between them.
Byleth could never understand how Rhea always knew it was her, but nevertheless pressed on and entered into the Archbishop's office.
Stained glass panels decorated the windows, regaling tales of bygone eras and religious tales that Papa had never bothered to mention. Tapestries in colorful linens and wool adorned the hewn stone walls, one for the Church in all its silver and white, another in rich hues of yellow paired with a majestic deer for the now defunct Leicester Alliance, and the last tapestry adorned by a blue lion as a symbol for the dead monarchy in Faerghus. There had been, once, a black Eagle soaring against a crimson backdrop among the tapestries.
“I am Edelgard, heiress to the Adrestian Empire. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“-Are you well? Byleth?”
Byleth blinked to find seafoam green eyes staring into her own from across the oaken desk, the Archbishop's head tilted ever so slightly to one side in concern. She nodded affirmatively even as her eyes drifted once more to the blank space on the wall. Her hand had come to rest once more upon her sword, squeezing it once for good measure.
“I know their betrayal cuts deep. Even now, after everything, I find it difficult to believe that one of Wilhelm’s descendants could take up the sword against us. We will have to consider how to best divide the students into classrooms now that Fodlan has been reunited once school resumes in a few months.” Rhea smiled, gesturing to the paperwork across her desk. “It is one among many things that will need to be rebuilt in this peace you have worked so hard to achieve.”
“Will there still be an Officer's Academy? Even with the war over?” Byleth had liked it here as a professor.
“The sons and daughters of the nobility will still need to learn and to grow. I cannot think of a better place than here for them to gather, even the blessed commoners such as Dorothy blossomed under your tutelage here.”
“Dorothea.” Byleth corrected, teeth grinding ever so slightly.
The songstress who cried herself to sleep sometimes because of all the blood on her hands and the men who died under her care. The woman who even now worried about her future prospects as a wife despite her talents and hard work both on and off the battlefield. The friend who had been inconsolable in the aftermath of Edelgard’s… betrayal against the Black Eagles, even if she did ask Byleth how the Professor was handling the news more than anyone else.
“Pardon?” Rhea blinked, her eyes widening in what Byleth considered to be mild surprise at being corrected.
“Her name is Dorothea, not Dorothy.” Byleth stared at Rhea, unblinking. She thought, distantly, that perhaps this looked like insubordination to an outsider but could not bring herself to care.
“My apologies, then, to Dorothea. But we would still have you as a Professor while you are here with me, Byleth.” Byleth could have sworn that Rhea glanced at the sword that rested on her hip, pausing ever so minutely. “You need not worry about your position here.”
“Is that why you called me here, Archbishop?” After one of Dorothea’s late night visits, Byleth had found herself worried about her own future as well despite repeated reassurances from Rhea about a position within the Church.
It seemed like a fine organization, just one that existed in a world totally its own with overpowering scents, stuffy clothing that itched against her skin, and an invisible battleground composed of titles, invitations, and bloodlines. She had only learned of the last during the war during Seteth’s many diatribes and impassioned rants against this or that pompous oaf. She mentioned during one of these rants how all the clergy only ever smiled and nodded at her to Seteth, which had prompted him to request her leaving the Sword of the Creator behind for a fancy party during the war.
That party had cleared some things up for her. Namely, if she was to join a battlefield in the future, she would rather return to the Blade Breakers than go to another one of those parties.
But she enjoyed being a professor with her Black Eagles. She could envision a world where she enjoyed it still.
“Byleth, dear, we have gone over this. You may call me Rhea, much as Seteth and Flayn do.” Rhea fought back a sigh, her eyes trending downward as she offered this bridge between them once more.
But Byleth could not forget the Immaculate One rampaging through the monastery only weeks ago, not when she had been the one to bring Rhea back to her senses. The monastery wouldn't need rebuilding had it not been for Rhea’s senseless rage. They had won, after all, and upon their return to Garreg Mach Rhea had summoned Byleth only to turn into that monster.
Seteth hadn't been able to look at her in the intervening weeks, not until Rhea had opened her eyes again, and Byleth was much too preoccupied with assisting her students for their departures to amend that just yet. Even still, Byleth knew that she could trust him, their bond forged in the late night strategy meetings, blood spilled on the many fields of battle, and his attempts at socializing with her students in their few moments to breathe.
Therefore he could wait while Rhea, and her summons, could not. Papa had always said it was better to confront the known unknowns than to leave them simply unknown.
“Apologies, Rhea.” Byleth coughed into her free hand, the other still idly resting on her sword.”
“But no, that is not why I called you here today dearest Byleth.” Rhea slowly rose from her desk, using one bandaged arm to support her ascent. “I would very much like it if we could visit the Holy Mausoleum once more together. Just you and I, this time, with no interrupt-”
“No.” Byleth interjected, awkwardly, before coughing. “I mean, I would rather not in your current state. As I understand it, you were ordered to bed rest for quite some time and I would not want to see you overly stressed going down the multitude of stares.
Rhea’s eyes flickered a deep, crimson red. She proceeded to sit back down in her chair, one arm crossed against her torso, and her eyes did not leave the paperwork laid out before her. “Very well. I thank you for your consideration, Professor. You may go now.”
Now, of all times, Byleth regretted not learning the Warp spell for she could only retreat as quickly as her legs could carry her.
***
There had been three letters in her mailbox after her visit to the Archbishop's office along with a purple and black bag that had her name on it. She gingerly sat each one on her desk, careful to prevent any damage. It was so rare to get mail, let alone three letters and a gift in a single day.
The sun had already begun to set, so she lit several candles around her office before sitting down. The sweet, citrus scent of bergamot hit her nostrils as she lit the last candle-
A pair of lilac eyes blinked at her, staring intently from across a small table in the gardens, as an uncharacteristic pink hue formed across Edelgard's cheeks likely due to the sun exposure. “Did you go out of your way to select my favorite tea?”
“I-I had seen you asking for it once at a merchant stall out in the market and… I am glad you like it, Edelgard.” Byleth sat deathly still, white knuckles relaxing into pink as it dawned on her that this had been a good choice.
“Professor, you're smiling.”
“Oh-”
“No, please don't stop. I find it rather fetching on you.” Edelgard pauses for a moment and lightly sipped her tea once more, returning the smile at Byleth. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
-And snuffed it back out before opening her first letter.
“Profeasor Byleth,
I'm sorry for not sticking around longer to say my goodbyes and all that stuff but my big bro asked me back home since… well… you know he's Count Bergliez now and he could use my hand, at least for a while, pummeling some bandits and stuff.
I promise to try and visit you when the dust settles though! And to keep all your advice in mind in the future! You saved my neck so many times and taught me so much…
Man I suck at goodbyes. But this won't be the last time we bump into each other! I'll always remember your advice and I promise to be good trouble! Keep an eye on Linhardt and all the others for as long as you can!
Caspar”
She smiled at the letter, taking her red ink to his letter nonetheless for one last graded essay in the expectation that his promise would hold. They would see each other again someday and, when that day came, she would be sure to remind him of his grammar and spelling mistakes. Not to mention his abuse of the exclamation point.
Her eyes darted to the second letter and she bit her lip. Initially the idea of having so much mail sounded fun but not if it meant that they were all goodbyes without the goodbye.
Nonetheless, she opened the second letter.
“Professor,
We (Lysithea and Linhardt) (she knows who we are, Lys) are departing to Enbarr posthaste. I know that we both owe you much but time is of the essence for both of us.
I must go and suffer the tedium of inheriting my father's former position as Count Hevring, along with all of the bureaucratic waste and endless politicking that it implies. The only good being that, as an active supporter of the Church these past few years, I've managed to keep my family's wealth intact which leaves me with the good fortune to spend on facilitating my crest research.
As for myself, Professor, we both know that if Linhardt is to get anywhere it is with the nagging of another. I always hoped we could be closer. I always did appreciate how you never treated me differently from the other students.
Take care, we promise to write.
Lys and Lin,”
A rhythmic knocking pattern echoed through her room and, briefly, Byleth wondered if she had her own knocking quirk that gave her away. She folded both letters back up into their envelopes and tucked them away in a locked drawer before answering.
“Come in, Dorothea!” Byleth called out, wanting to see at least one of her students today. Hopefully she wouldn't be leaving so soon as the others, the idea of being alone-
“Hello, Professor! You are having a two for one agreement!” Petra was the first to enter, her knapsack slung around her back. She had pivoted, as of late, towards more Brighid clothing which had made sense in the warmer Adrestian climate at the end of their campaign.
Byleth hadn't expected to see her in said clothing once more nor so late in the day.
But her expectations were further shattered as Dorothea entered behind Petra and, for once, a little shy if Byleth had to guess. A leather halter top covered most of Dorothea's chest and what was still bare was adorned by seaglass necklaces that matched the bracelets on her wrists. From her vantage point, Byleth couldn't see the rest of her ensemble but it was clear that Dorothea had adopted Petra's fashion.
Byleth could surmise why, much as she wished the idea away. The thought of losing Dorothea so soon was not a welcome one, nor one she had prepared for and yet it came anyway.
“It's a two for one deal, Petra-” Dorothea paused, staring at Byleth for a moment before immediately breaking around the desk and bending down to be at Byleth’s eye level. “Professor, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost!”
Byleth quickly shook her head before looking at the remaining letter and gift. “No, not a ghost. Caspar wrote me a letter. As did Linhardt and Lysithea. They all had to leave, much like you are doing now.”
The smile on Dorothea's face fell away, cast into shadow, and Byleth had her suspicions confirmed.
“It was nice of them to write…” Dorothea placed a hand on Byleth's arm and gently squeezed. It felt nice. “I know this last letter for you is from Ferdie and the bag is one of Bernie Bear’s creations.”
“How do you know that?” There was no marking, no indication, on either as far as Byleth could tell.
Dorothea shook her head and Byleth knew she'd asked a wrong question. If only she had paid more attention, she could have asked the right questions and made the right observations and- she winced from the pain of biting her lip a little too tight.
“Oh, why Ferdie uses a crimson letter with cream colored wax and Bernie has been making bags like that for a while on the campaign trail.” Dorothea sighed, squeezing Byleth's arm once more. “But we are all here for you Professor.”
“Except that we will be doing the leaving tonight too.” Petra chimed in, pulling Dorothea up by a hand into a side hug. “I will be showing Dorothea my homeland. Now that the war is over, we have much to be doing and I am happy to have Dorothea's assistance.”
Dorothea happily retreated into Petra's side hug, nodding as she flapped the excess material of her colorful skirt. “And I look absolutely marvelous in the clothing she loaned to me!”
“But,” Dorothea paused and recollected herself, “we will write and I will visit even if Petra can't. I promise you that much, Professor, you will never truly be alone. You have done so much for us, each of us, and… I hope you know that.”
Petra nodded, squeezing Dorothea's hand, and Dorothea continued even as she began sniffling. “Even Edie and Hubie. They were so close to you, Professor, and I thought… I thought…”
Dorothea trailed off, pulling out a handkerchief to dab at her eyes before rifling through her bag for something. She pulled out a small, compact leather journal and wordlessly handed it over to Byleth.
“I think if anyone should have this, it should be you. I didn't open it once I figured out who owned it. She… she really cared for you and I… oh, Edie.” Dorothea fought through her tears and shook her head.
“I'm sorry, Professor, I… didn't want to be so… not when you and… I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” Dorothea shook as Petra held her tightly.
“It was good to see you, Professor. We will be leaving for Brigid soon. Thank you for everything, I promise we will stay in touch.” Petra fought to keep her smile undimmed as she spoke, Dorothea nodding vigorously along even as her mascara gave way to streaky black tears.
“I will miss both of you and your absence keenly felt. Please remember our times together and I expect you, both of you, to write me often.” Byleth tried to smile, tried her best to remember every muscle necessary, but knew in her heart she had only managed to turn the corners of her mouth upward as they departed.
Byleth looked to the journal now sitting in her lap, her eyes locked on the latch guarding its secrets, and she stared at it.
It took a candle going out in her office some interminable time later in order for her to become unglued from that position.
The Ashen Demon paralyzed by a journal.
Ridiculous.
She'd killed bandits, mercenaries, war criminals… students. She'd killed students and Hubert and Edelgard and Edelgard and Edelgard and-
Byleth took a deep breath and held it, much as Dorothea had taught her to do once, as she opened the journal and it fell open to a page somewhere in the middle. It had been years since she had seen this handwriting and yet it was so painfully familiar that Byleth found her hand tracing along every word as she read.
“As silly as it may sound, I find myself counting down the days until our five year reunion at the Goddess Tower. I know that our classmates were not swayed by my words, I wish that I had tried harder to connect with them and open my heart regret that Hubert was correct in his assumption that they would never walk with me.
But Byleth has been missing from the battlefield now since Garreg Mach and Hubert's formidable spy ring has turned up nothing nor has Those Who Slither in the Dark. It would be just like her to appear there like she did all those moons ago, just like my father and mother once met.
So I find myself often thinking what words I would say to her if we were to meet again, what words and what order I would need to string them in for her to understand my goals. I wish regret I had not been more open with her and perhaps this is my childish way of trying to accept culpability under the pretense of having some measure of control for the outcome.
"I wish you were someone whose heart could be swayed by my words and deeds. If it were so, I would have done anything to make you my ally…”
No, that wouldn't do. It's much too sombre, melodramatic for Byleth. I should act as though I have some dignity around her.
“All I wished for-”
“All I wanted was to walk with you.”
Short, but honest. It doesn't express my true feelings towards Byleth, but it is a start.
In truth all I wanted was to see her smile, much like I would on our tea dates. I admit I don't know much of her story, I don't believe anyone does, but she seems so much more… human around her students. She laughs, sometimes, and none of us know what we did but we want to hear more of it.
Perhaps I am projecting.
Perhaps things could have been different if it hadn't been for Solon, if Byleth hadn't been banished with her beautiful dark blue hair and returned with a likeness to Rhea.
But I was a coward and I became scared as she retreated into herself, as Rhea demanded more and more of her attention.
I have done many things that I regret over the years, even more still things to come, but I do not know if I will ever find myself regretting anything more than this simple truth:
Byleth deserved a better house leader and it is a good thing that her other students followed her.
A wet spot formed on the page as Byleth leered over it, uncertain when she had begun to cry.