Chapter Text
It had been days since the battle. Byleth was in the infirmary recovering and Linhardt felt a renewed sense to continue to find clues to their affliction in the library. It was a good way to get his mind off of the events that had just passed.
She got hurt because of me.
He shook his head and buried his face in a book. No matter where he looked or how many times he read the same books there was never any mention of a girl on a throne, or people losing their ability to see colour. Some of the less... historically accurate books made mention of soulmates, but he dismissed this information. There was no such thing.
I protect you because I choose to.
The Garreg Mach librarian Tomas walked up to his table and passed him some books that looked older than the monastery itself.
“Where did you find these?” Linhardt wondered as he eagerly turned the pages, wondering what kind of ink wrote in such fine lines on the pages and was preserved so well.
Tomas chuckled. “The monastery has many secrets, Master Hevring.” The old man then bent over beside Linhardt and flipped to a few choice pages. “This may be of use to you.”
Linhardt's eyes lit up immediately. “What is this?”
Tomas gave a knowing smile and put his finger to his lips. “The Archbishop and her second would have it confiscated if they knew I was showing it to you. You better take it back to your room.”
“You would... allow me to have something so ancient?”
“Of course.” The old man chuckled. “You have quite a gift for knowledge, Linhardt. I'm sure you can make use of what's written here. Hurry along now.”
Linhardt shoved the book into his bag and looked around to make sure no one was watching, then hurried out of the library and down the hall to his room.
* * * *
He didn't get very far out of the library before his conscious began to take hold of him. Normally, he never thought of anyone but himself first, even those he considered his friends.
But today was different. He kept thinking of Byleth lying in an infirmary bed, who knows how injured. All because she took a blow for him.
His thoughts wandered as he made his way down the lengthy corridors towards the infirmary. How did he feel about Byleth? After all, none of this was her fault right? She was just as much a victim of this curse as he was.
Then I choose to protect you, because I want to. Were the words she had spoken to him.
Something stirred inside of him again, as it had during the fight. From somewhere deep inside of him, his emotions were in turmoil. Was it because he was confused about his own feelings for Byleth? Did he actually like her or was he just feeling guilty that she got injured because of him?
I'm not suited for battle. He thought as he finally reached his destination.
“Byleth, are you in- oh.” Linhardt walked into the large, open room of the infirmary and saw Byleth lying on one of the beds. Ashe was sitting at her side, talking with her.
They both noticed him at the same time and Ashe gave a small smile. “Oh, hello Linhardt.”
“Hello.” The scholar stood in the doorway awkwardly, unsure whether to continue in or come back at another time. Byleth looked fine where she was laying. Why had he come here again?
Ashe looked at Linhardt then back to Byleth. “Oh, did you need to speak with Byleth? I'll leave.”
“It's ok Ashe.” Byleth smiled. “You can stay if you-”
“-Thank you Ashe.” Linhardt began striding towards the bed.
“I'll see you later Byleth.” The silver-haired young man replied. He bent down and gave Byleth's hand a squeeze. “Thanks for... listening to me.”
He turned to Linhardt. “I have to go and arrange things with Rhea. She's allowing me to have a small service here, to honour Lenato. Even though we...”
“-Ashe.” Byleth gave his hand a squeeze again. “It's ok.”
“Well I'm sure you'll be quite busy.” Linhardt replied, gently pointing Ashe towards the doorway.
Once he was outside, Linhardt came and took his seat beside Byleth's bed.
“That was rude.” She commented.
“What was?” Linhardt asked, genuinely curious. “Oh, you mean Ashe?”
“His adoptive father just died, Linhardt. You shoved him out the door.”
“Oh, well. He can return once I'm done.” Linhardt replied, shrugging.
Byleth simply stared at him in disbelief.
“I wanted to see if you were all right.” The scholar continued, his eyes roaming towards her bandaged shoulder. She had other injuries on her arms and bruises on her neck. He took in a deep breath.
She noticed his discomfort. “Injuries happen, Linhardt.”
“Because... you choose to protect me?” He muttered.
“Yes.” She smiled and reached out her hand. He took it, his own trembling. “And because that is the nature of fighting.”
He felt her give a small squeeze and he smiled back. He felt instantly better knowing that she was going to be all right. It was as though a great weight was lifted from his shoulders.
“I'm relieved.” He said seriously. “I just felt so useless in battle.”
“If you want to feel a little less useless.” Byleth continued. “You'll come train with me after I get out of here.”
“Training? No. I refuse to touch any weapons, even if they're just for practice. It's too much like fighting.”
“Linhardt.” Byleth brought him down closer to her face. “Please.”
He took in another deep breath. “All right Byleth. Only with you.”
“Good.” She smiled. “You should go back to class now. I don't want to have my father complaining to me about how you never attend.”
Linhardt gave a sly grin but stood up. “I do feel badly about you getting hurt on my account so... I'll attend the lectures this afternoon, but I can't guarantee I'll stay awake for them.”
“Fair enough.” Byleth put her head back against the pillow. “I could probably use a nap myself.”
Instinctively, Linhardt reached out and pulled the blankets higher up on her, to make sure she stayed warm. She sighed in response and closed her eyes.
Once out of the room, he looked around for Ashe, but the young, silver-haired man didn't seem to be anywhere nearby.
Was I rude? Linhardt wondered as he walked back towards the Black Eagles classroom. Again, he had never really considered others' feelings before, but the look Byleth had given him was etched into his mind, her blue hair falling around her shoulders like waves in the ocean. Her bright eyes staring directly into his.
He sighed. He didn't really want to start anything resembling training.
* * * *
“Ha! You're here?” Caspar had teased him relentlessly when Linhardt had stepped onto the training grounds.
“And I suppose you never leave.” Linhardt lamented. He had secretly hoped his energetic friend would have been gone by the time he and Byleth arrived, but it seemed Caspar worked harder than he gave him credit for.
“Oh, Byleth. Hello!” Caspar waved as the aforementioned stepped out, flashing a small smile. “It's great to see you out walking again.”
“We are so happy to be seeing you!” Petra agreed. “Please be making sure you do not work too hard and put yourself back in the infirmary.”
“I won't, thanks for the concern Petra.” Byleth's smile broadened.
Linhardt couldn't help smiling too. This was a part of Byleth that he had known about, but rarely seen outside of battle. She seemed right at home among the various practice weapons she picked up, taking a few practice swings with them.
“Rhea is charging us with helping to guard the Holy Mausoleum.” Byleth mentioned to Petra and Caspar, who gave solemn nods.
“You don't really think the Western church is going to attack it, do you?” Caspar wondered aloud as Byleth took a practice swing at a target dummy. The wooden sword bounced off the dummy with a loud crack!
“Hang on.” Linhardt chimed in. “Are you saying we get to enter the Holy Mausoleum?”
His excitement was short-lived as Byleth flung a wooden sword at him. He reached out to grab it when it fell uselessly to the ground.
Caspar burst out laughing. Linhardt hadn't realized it, but he could clearly see his friend's light-blue hair and eyes.
“Everyone starts from the beginning.” Byleth chided, shooing Caspar away. “That's what my father says, anyway.”
“Ah yes, I'm sure Captain Jeralt is the pinnacle of wisdom.” Linhardt replied sarcastically as he bent over to pick up the wooden sword.
“We'll see.” Byleth replied softly as she moved his hands to the correct positions.
It felt awkward and strange and Linhardt hated it, but he had promised Byleth he would give it a try.
After what seemed like an eternity but was merely an hour, he practically limped back to his room, exhausted and his hands were sore and bruised. His body felt light however, a sensation he had never experienced before.
Was it because the training made me light-headed, or was it seeing Byleth in her element? He wondered, as he drifted off to sleep.
* * * *
He opened his eyes and the sight of green was so overwhelming he had to shut them again momentarily to become used to it.
“There you are.” The green-haired girl was standing before him, her arms crossed. “I have had to come visit you again, for it has been months but you have at least made some progress.”
“Perhaps,” Linhardt began, crossing his arms himself, “It would be easier if I knew what it was I was supposed to do.”
The girl seemed highly amused by this, and floated up into the air so that she was seeing him eye to eye. Being a dream this didn't seem strange to Linhardt, but he did wonder about it some.
“You are supposed to set me free.” The girl chided. “I believe I said that when we first met.”
“I don't even know if you're real.” Linhardt scowled. “The thought had crossed my mind that you could be a ghost, or an illusion.”
The girl looked troubled by this, but then shook her head vigorously.
“No, I refuse to believe that.” She replied. “I cannot be a ghost, simply left to drift through this... existence forever.”
Linhardt held up his hands. “I've been researching as much as I can, but I lack certain details. Do you remember your name yet?”
“Sothis.” The girl blinked. “Yes, that is my name. Sometimes I am also called 'The Beginning'.”
“Sothis?” Linhardt shook his head. “I've never heard of that name.”
But it's a start, he thought.
He tried to press his luck further. She didn't feel nearly as hostile to him as she had during their first meeting.
“That spell you cast on me when we first met... it held the crest of flames. Does that mean you possess the crest of flames inside you?”
Sothis laughed. It was a light, melodic sound.
“Yes human.” She replied, floating back towards her throne. “I am the Crest of Flames.”
* * * *
“Sothis, her name is Sothis.” Linhardt exclaimed, muttering to himself as he searched through the book that Tomas had given him.
Sure enough, the pages that Tomas has told him he would find interesting proved to have some important information on them.
“Here she is... the 'Fell Star'.” He frowned. Interesting. Why was she called that?
Byleth had said she could see her sometimes, or feel her.
* * * *
After the battle in the Holy Mausoleum, the pieces began to fall into place as everyone witnessed Byleth clutch the Sword of the Creator, which meant she too was imbued with the Crest of Flames.
Linhardt continued his research, though a thought began to trouble him. He had always thought Sothis to be somewhat benign, yet she had cursed both of them with an inability to see colour. The book the Librarian had given Linhardt continued to call her 'The Fell Star', and referred to her in passing as if they were afraid of her and her children, whatever those were. He would have to keep reading.
* * * *
“Ouch, ouch, ouch!” Linhardt instinctively swatted Byleth's hand away as he felt her firm but soft grip on his shoulder.
“Just as I thought,” She murmured, “You're hurt. Why didn't you say something?”
“It's nothing.” He said, though his voice cracked as a new spasm of pain shot up his arm and into his chest.
“It's not nothing. You've pulled your shoulder.” She said it without much emotion, but he could detect a soft inflection to her words.
“I don't think I've ever done such a thing before.” Linhardt said, feeling somewhat proud of the fact that he obtained an injury that could only happen through physical activity.
“If you ever trained at all in your life you wouldn't get hurt like this.”
He winced, and not just at the pain.
“Come on, take off your jacket and sit on the bed.” She said. “I think I have a salve that might help.”
He hesitated, then sat down and turned his neck slowly to see Byleth digging around in her bag. She mumbled in satisfaction as she brought out an indistinct jar with a miscellaneous substance inside.
“What is this?” He asked, pointing with his good arm.
“You don't even have your jacket off!” She exclaimed, and reached over to yank it off him.
“Owww... owwww!” He cried out as she practically tore it from his shoulders. “It's hard to concentrate. As you say, I'm hurt.”
“You're hopeless.” She sighed. “It.. it's hard protecting you sometimes. I worry that I might not always be there to watch out for you. And then this happens.”
Now Linhardt felt slightly ashamed. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a burden on you.”
He helped Byleth remove part of his shirt so his bare skin was showing.
“You're not a burden.” Byleth twisted the lid of the jar and as soon as it came loose Linhardt could smell the heavy scent of pine needles and mint.
He saw her hesitate, as if she were about to say something more, then reached into the jar with her fingers and removed some of the cream.
“Stay still.” She ordered and he froze, then gasped as a cold feeling washed over him as she applied the substance to his skin. He shivered involuntarily.
“Are you all right?” She asked gently and he felt his cheeks grow warm.
“What is in this?” He asked, genuinely curious and she handed him the jar.
“It's medicine to help soothe your sore muscles.” Byleth replied as Linhardt looked it over, dipping his finger in and almost laughing as he felt it going numb.
“I guess I've never really needed it before.” He handed it back to her. “Thank you for once again protecting me on the battlefield.”
He thought he caught her cheeks darken. “It was nothing.” She muttered, her hands lingering on his shoulder even though the cream was already on it.
He was starting to feel better, much better. But now that the physical pain was receding from his body, the memories of the battle they had just fought in resurfaced.
He could see the soldiers in front of him, screaming as the Black Beast tore them apart, their blood splattering against his uniform. He had tried to run, but his legs had turned to figurative stone. He saw the giant creature raising its claws against him, when suddenly there was a shout and Byleth came to stand in front of him. Her sword was outstretched, and even though her back was to him, he could almost feel her fury. It was like a heat radiating off of her, a crimson aura, and for a brief moment he felt afraid.
He saw the large, black monster in front of them almost hesitate, before it let out a deafening roar. Now Linhardt was very afraid. Byleth raised her sword and charged forwards.
“Linhardt?”
He snapped back to attention, wondering how long his mind had wandered. Byleth reached out and gently touched his cheek, wiping away a tear. When had he started to cry?
“I'm sorry.” He placed his hand over hers and sniffed. “I was just... thinking about the battle.”
“You did very well.” Byleth assured him.
“No I didn't!” Linhardt said, sounding angrier than he had wanted. “A bunch of men died under my command!”
“I'm sorry.” She lowered herself so that she could look him in the eye. “People will die in battle Linhardt. It's not your fault.”
“Byleth I...” He took in a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “...I'm not suited for it. You have to stop taking me along with you. You're going to get yourself hurt trying to keep me safe.”
“I like protecting you.” She replied.
“I can't go into battle anymore.” Linhardt repeated. “I can't have blood on my hands. Please, don't make me do it.”
“There are some fights we cannot run from.”
Byleth's blue eyes shone out at him and he shuddered as he took a deep intake of breath. When had she gotten so close to him? She seemed inches from his face.
It was his turn to touch her cheek and he smiled at how warm it felt. “You may be right that there are fights we cannot avoid but... what if something happens to me anyway?”
“I won't let you die.” She stared at him, sincerity written on her face. “I promise.”
Linhardt traced his fingers from her cheek down to her lips.
“That's a bold statement.” He whispered, as he drew her closer and closed his eyes. “But I believe you.”
Linhardt had never kissed anyone before and had absolutely no idea what to expect or how to do it. How much pressure does he apply to her lips? How long to hold it? What if she shies away?
Such thoughts were completely rent from his mind as he felt Byleth's hands on either side of his face, her lips pushed against his, mouth slightly parted, her tongue flicking against him. He relinquished himself to her mouth and felt her warm tongue sliding against his teeth, teasing the inside of his mouth, rolling against his own tongue. He felt warm, so warm and for the first time in ages, he felt completely at peace.
His hands moved on their own, tangling themselves in her hair, caressing the back of her head, tickling her ear. He felt her own hands move past his shoulders to tug at his hair tie. It came away easily, floating down his back as her own hands began to roll over his shoulders. She was ever so gentle, as if she was concerned that he would shatter at her touch.
He (regrettably) had to pull away for a moment to catch his breath. He opened his eyes to see her staring at him, looking equally flushed and gasping for air.
Linhardt looked at her, and for the first time in his life, words failed him. He simply laid back on the bed, his mind racing. Byleth lay down beside him and reached out to take his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.
“I would like to kiss you some more, Linhardt.” He heard her say. “...If that's all right.”
“Very much so.” He blurted, without thinking.
They turned to face each other on the bed.
How I must look. Linhardt thought, as he grinned through the mess of hair in front of his face. Byleth brushed it aside and began to move closer.
As their lips touched again, Linhardt made a silent promise to himself.
As you have promised to protect me Byleth, I will promise to get to the bottom of our mystery.
As he silently spoke the words, the world around them shimmered slightly and suddenly everything was in red. Not a menacing dark colour, but something that felt warm, comfortable and safe.
How soft her skin is, he murmured as he lost himself in the moment.