Chapter Text
Edelgard speaks of grand reforms and upheaval to the laws Fódlan had long lived by, but even someone like Leonie understands that change takes time, and that time cannot heal every wound.
When she closes her eyes, she can sometimes see Lorenz and Ignatz at the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Hilda had put up a magnificent last stand at Derdriu. Who knows where Raphael had been, if he’d simply been one of many soldiers buried in piles of bodies without a name or a grave or if he’d fled to one of the villages Edelgard swore not to raze.
Leonie isn’t quite sure if she should pity Claude for being spared, or be relieved that Edelgard decided to leave his head on his shoulders. He left, anyway. Probably won’t come back to Fódlan for a long time, or ever again.
She thinks back to the bandit she had killed in the Red Canyon, back when she was only a student, and wonders why she can’t seem to shed any tears for her old classmates. Maybe because… that’s just war. People and beasts are as one. A mercenary carries no regrets for the lives they’ve taken. Things like that. Fighting is easier when she doesn’t think about who’s going to be at the end of her lance.
Captain Jeralt should be proud of her for making it out alive.
Well, there’s nothing left to it. Her debt to her village is all paid off thanks to the Empire, the war is over, and it’s time to make good on that dream she’d held onto through all these years. She leads her horse out of the stables before the sun is up, already mapping out a course in her head to figure out the fastest way to go home. It’s weird, thinking about home. A part of her doesn’t feel ready just yet, even though she’s aching to see how her parents and everyone else are doing.
Almyra is a long way from here, but if she could face Claude again…
No. There’s no point in apologizing for the decisions she made. She’d be insulting him and his pride if she asked for forgiveness when she showed no hesitance in Derdriu.
Claude would understand, she hopes.
For now, she’ll follow her own path and see where it takes her.
She makes it past the gates when she hears someone running after her. Leonie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath of that brisk morning air, and tugs her horse to a halt.
“Wait—!” Oh, Byleth is carrying a knapsack and a plain steel sword sheathed at her hip. That means…
“Byleth. Sorry, I wasn’t sure how to say goodbye,” Leonie says, her smile lopsided and half-hearted. “I kept my promise to Captain Jeralt and made sure you were safe. But I’ve gotta go my own way now. I can’t dedicate my life to being your adjutant, you know?”
“I know.”
Byleth is different now. She hasn’t been the same ever since the Immaculate One had fallen and the Empire put out the fires in Fhirdiad. What it is exactly, Leonie can’t quite put her finger on, but she wonders if there’s more life behind her eyes now than there was before or if Byleth is just relieved the war is over.
Leonie won’t ask what she did with the Sword of the Creator. That’s none of her business.
“… Edelgard wants you to stay. I know how much she trusts you— second only to Hubert, or third to Lysithea. Ferdinand is probably in there somewhere, too. I don’t know, three or four might be a crowd, but it sounded like she was thinking of keeping you close by as one of her advisors. Don’t you think you ought to be there for her?”
“That would be the selfless thing to do,” Byleth slowly says, moving around to stroke the horse’s face. And to stop Leonie from going anywhere.
“You’re not exactly renown for doing things selfishly. That’s why everyone likes you.”
“What do you think?”
“I think…” That the Emperor will need all the help she can get if she intends to keep her promise to help those trapped in poverty, and the people who lost their livelihoods from the war. And the shadowy group that was truly responsible for Captain Jeralt’s death have yet to be dealt with, but she no longer thinks about revenge. Leonie is tired, and she just wants to bask in the aftermath of the war, and maybe one day forget about the notion of finding Claude. Leonie sighs. “You should do whatever you want.”
“Edelgard has many friends,” Byleth says with a small, small smile as she pets the horse. “She’s not alone. She doesn’t need me there.”
“I’m not sure about that…”
“I don’t like politics, Leonie.”
“Oh.” Leonie sort of laughs. “Same here.”
Yeah, she can’t really imagine Byleth offering any particularly useful advice when it comes to bureaucracy and diplomatic affairs and ironing out the crinkles left of territories that need to be redistributed and old Houses torn down from their Crest-bearing pedestals. What a headache. Leonie’s suddenly glad that Edelgard only sought her out for war council meetings, not to discuss treatises.
She expects Edelgard will find some way to hire her again as a mercenary, anyway. This wouldn’t be their only farewell. Leaving Garreg Mach like this is just Leonie’s final act of defiance, to show that she have never and will never answer to anyone.
Byleth, on the other hand, seems to be caught somewhere in the limbo between leader and follower. Captain Jeralt had once said that he believed his kid would one day overtake him. He never said such things to Leonie in spite of all the confidence he had in her. Once, Leonie had resented his daughter for stupidly petty reasons, but now she gets it.
She'll carve out her own legacy as Leonie Pinelli, not just wear Captain Jeralt's secondhand.
“So I’m coming with you," Byleth says. "I don't want to be a knight or a politician. I want to be a mercenary."
“I told you—”
“I’m not your responsibility to keep safe anymore.”
Leonie wipes at her eyes, even though they’re dry. “You’ve been a real thorn in my side, you know that? First you sided with the Empire, then you disappeared. I spent five years looking for you… then I fought in a war partly because of you. You really piss me off, sometimes. Always have.”
“Yeah.”
“And now you have a pulse!”
“It’s weird.”
“Really? You’ll get used to it. Nobody notices their own heartbeat.”
They fall into silence for a moment. The guards at the gate are probably wondering why they’re still standing in the middle of the road. Some people might be waking up at this hour too, and Marianne will no doubt be the first to realize Leonie is gone when she sees the empty stall beside Dorte. She’ll have to write to Marianne. Come back for her, someday. She can’t face Claude again, but at least she has other friends to return to.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
“You’re the only family I have left,” Byleth plainly says.
Ah.
Something in Leonie’s chest tightens. She had never considered herself to be particularly sentimental, just like Byleth, but…
Leonie extends a hand and helps Byleth saddle up behind her. They’ll find another horse on the way. This will do, for now.
“Where to first?” Byleth asks, patting Leonie’s shoulder.
“We’re going home,” Leonie says. “To Sauin Village.”