Chapter Text
“You know, you’re a young woman, Byleth—have you thought of getting married yet?”
Byleth snapped her concentration from the forest floor to the sound of her father’s voice. Jeralt was somewhat of an untraditional mercenary band leader—he was once a Knight of Seiros, the most elite military soldier one could be, before leaving the order to lead his own mercenary group. His sternness overshadowed his softness, especially for his daughter.
She only snorted, lightly slapping her father’s shoulder. “Father, please. Haven’t we been over this before?”
“Hey, hey! I just want to make sure you have a happy life. I loved your mother a lot. I want to make sure you find that special someone, too,” her father replied, winking. But his tone was soft as well as teasing—he always got reminiscent when speaking of his wife, who passed away long ago.
Byleth smiled, shaking her head. “Right, right. But I’m just a young adult. I still have a whole life ahead of me—do you really want me to settle down so quickly, popping out babies, while you lead the group alone? I have my own wishes and responsibilities, too, you know.”
She cared for her father—but sometimes it seemed like he wanted to lessen any burden that came before her. But she hated it whenever he did that—she should be the one taking care of him, not the other way around, especially since she was a grown woman now. She didn’t have time to think of love or marriage—she had to think of her duties.
Although . . . the thought of courtship did pass her mind occasionally. She remembered when she was younger, she dreamed of becoming a princess, marrying into the most prestigious of royal families, being unconditionally loved by her future husband. Of course, now that she was older, those fantasies stayed fantasies—but she blushed thinking of being romantically involved with any man. She was so caught up with fighting, strategizing, and leading, that she barely thought of romance. It would be nice to be cared by someone that wasn’t one of her troops or her father . . . but, as of now, it was unrealistic.
“Oh, look, you’re blushing! So you do wanna settle down!” he laughed. The soldiers behind them were giggling ferociously, and she turned around to give them a fierce glare, and they cleared their throats and stopped immediately.
“Father. Please,” she rolled her eyes, “You’re embarrassing me.”
He slung his arm around her shoulder, giving her a half hug. “It’s because I care about you. I don’t want you to end up like me, old and alone. Hey, how about we set up a blind date for you? What about that cute archer, the guy who always asks if you ‘come here often’?”
She guffawed. “You mean Rowan? I remember I walked past him once and he fell off his horse, ogling at me. If I married him, he’d forget to breathe.”
“That’s a bit harsh! OK, OK, what about—”
His next suggestion was cut off by the sound of a bloodcurdling scream.
Everyone was immediately alert, shouting and whispering, readying their weapons. Byleth’s father was already giving out orders, and soldiers flew past him to the sound of the shriek. His gaze fell onto Byleth, and she was already nodding.
As the troops flanked their sides, the two of them rushed ahead, leading all of them. The source of the sound was in a clearing right ahead of them, covered by the underbrush of the forest. Byleth and her father were already crouching behind it, surveying the area.
Three people, dressed in intricate military uniforms, most likely nobles, were surrounded by a group of snarling bandits. In an instant, one bandit leader was already charging at one of them, a young woman with a bright scarlet uniform and snow-colored hair. Panic rushed through her veins—if she didn’t stop the attack now, there was no doubt the bandit would slaughter the woman and her companions.
Without thinking, she charged ahead, her father shouting behind her to stop—but her legs were already sprinting. Adrenaline roared through her veins as she came upon the bandit, who was ready to lodge his axe into the woman.
Byleth let out a war cry and intercepted the attack, just before the axe was about to reach the woman—lurching forward, she stepped in between them, bracing herself for any kind of impact. The woman, shocked beyond words, had her mouth agape—and she was forming words, but before Byleth could hear them, she felt cold metal sink into her back.
She let out a strained gasp, feeling the axe crush into her bones, and stars were forming in her vision. No, no, no, no, no, this is where I die, I can’t die, I can’t, I’m too young, Father, I’m so sorry . . . Air was leaving her lungs quickly, and she collapsed on the ground.
She could feel tears forming in her eyes—Mother, will you be on the other side . . . ?
Everything went black.
Darkness. She was swimming in pitch-black darkness. She felt her body floating, an odd tingling sensation flowing through her entire form.
Is this what the afterlife is like? If so, it’s pretty shitty so far . . .
Suddenly, she was no longer in a weird, trance-like state—she felt herself being propelled forward, and suddenly she was standing in an empty room—with one exception.
At the front of the room was a throne—and sitting upon it was a young, sleeping girl. Messy green hair adorned her head, as well as intricate jewelry. Her entire body was . . . glowing. She seemed to be the only source of light in the room.
Byleth shook her head, trying to determine if any of this was real. Where am I . . . ? She gulped. Stepping forward, she tried to be as quiet as possible, but her footsteps only reverberated loudly across the room.
Finally, she was only a few feet away from the young girl. Now that she was closer, Byleth could ascertain even more strange features from her—she had pointed ears, and her attire was also odd—it was as if she was bound by chains.
Should I wake her . . . ?
Before she could even make a decision, the young girl awoke, slowly rising from the throne. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, yawning the entire time. Byleth’s throat went dry. Was this girl some kind of forgotten, old god? Would she curse her for interrupting her long sleep? She felt like a child again, being read stories of foolish adventurers who dared to defy the will of the heavens . . . was she the fool this time?
“Oh my. What could’ve brought you here?” the voice echoed to her, breaking Byleth from her thoughts. She widened her eyes, too stunned to speak.
The girl continued to stay still on her throne. “Well? Don’t just stand there! Say something! I’m just as confused as you are, you know.”
Byleth only blinked. “I . . . uh . . . who are you? Where am I?”
The girl rested her head on the chair, one arm propped on the armrest. She seemed puzzled herself. “Well, I just woke up, you know. I . . .” she trailed off, a frown starting to appear on her face. Her confidence seemed to diminish, and worry overtook her face.
“I . . . I don’t know, to tell you the truth. I . . . oh, my name is Sothis! I remember that much! It seems . . . I’ve lost my memories. Well, that’s plausible after being asleep for so long!” she chirped. Despite her apparent memory loss, the young girl was as optimistic as ever.
“Am I dreaming . . . ?” Byleth whispered.
Hearing her, the young girl shook her head. “Nope! Real as reality can ever be. Although, you did die, right?”
Her blood ran cold. How did this strange girl know what happened? And where the hell was she?
“H-How . . .”
“How do I know? I mean, I am in your conscious.”
“My what now?” Byleth sputtered, her eyes bulging out of her head. She thought she couldn’t get more incredulous, but apparently today was just full of surprises. This girl was in her mind?
Sothis smirked, “How else do you think I’m talking to you? Anyway, it seems we’re both lost, but we can sort that out later. How about we work together? You do have a nasty bandit to take care of, right?”
She didn’t reply, still staring in absolute astonishment at what was happening.
Sothis rolled her eyes, sighing, “Fine. A human like you wouldn't understand the true value of your life, right? Honestly . . . Well, it's up to me to guide you from now on, right?”
She suddenly stood, clapping her hands. Byleth’s whole body was shaking, stepping away cautiously. Sothis only furrowed her brow, clearly annoyed.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, geez! You technically have an axe lodged in your body, so I don’t know how you can get any worse than that. Anyway . . . I’ll talk to you soon. You definitely have your own problems to deal with,” Sothis explained, staring at her nails.
She was now directly in front of Byleth. Byleth looked down, and the strange girl only looked back, a mischievous expression on her face.
She was gone in a second, and so was Byleth.
Darkness. So much darkness. Floating in space, stars around her, then, the familiar clang of metal and screams—the sound of time rewinding, if there was a sound of that.
Byleth opened her eyes with a start, and saw the world in a strange, purplish tone. She saw herself taking the axe for the unknown woman, from far away.
Is that . . . me? What is going on?!
She didn’t have time to answer her own question. Without missing a beat, she was back in her own body, and she saw the bandit much farther away this time. She was stricken with shock at what was happening, but she couldn’t afford to waste time—whoever that strange girl was, she couldn’t waste being given another chance to live.
She pushed forth her body in action, this time turning around where her back was facing the white-haired woman, and her own body facing the bandit. Consumed with rage, the bandit continued screaming, his axe ready to plunge itself into both of the women, and then—
Byleth successfully parried the hit with her sword, forcing all her energy into the block—and the bandit went flying backwards, face first into his own soldiers.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, some way, she was still alive and standing—and she protected an innocent. She felt her shoulders sink in relief, but before she could allow herself to relax even more, a shout resounding in the distance came to her attention.
“Hey, over here!”
She gripped the hilt of her sword, ready to strike again, but it was the same people who were with the woman before. She relaxed her hand, seeing two men coming towards them. One was in a black and yellow uniform and had deep brown hair and skin and bright jade eyes. The other was a paler boy with blonde hair and icy blue irises, in his own black and dark blue uniform. These people . . . they were definitely nobles, but something about them suggested they were not just the standard, offshoot kind. Perhaps dukes and a duchess?
But if they were high-ranking nobility, they definitely didn’t act like them—they all gazed at her warmly and in awe. She felt her face flush just from their admiring looks.
“Um, so—” Before she could even begin questioning them, they all broke out at the same time.
“That was simply amazing! Thank the Goddess you saved us, we owe you a large debt, my lady! How do we even begin thanking you?!” the darker-skinned man applauded, bowing humbly and deeply. His face was beaming with gratitude and joy.
“Truly, we would not be here without you. Many thanks. What is your name, pray tell?” the paler boy nodded, his tone more calm. He lightly bowed his shoulders, but he was still chivalrous nonetheless.
The woman she had saved spoke up, as well. “Just as Dimitri and Claude said, we would not here without you. Thank you so much for saving me. Are you a mercenary, by chance? We are eternally grateful for your help.” She bowed as well, a graceful smile adorning her face.
Before Byleth could respond to any of their praise, the sound of her mercenaries cried from behind. They were cursing at the bandits who were now running away into the darkness. Jeralt was commanding them, and as soon as he saw his daughter, he breathed a sigh of relief and came up to the four of them.
She was just about to explain herself when she was enveloped in a bone-crushing embrace from her father. She squeaked out in surprise, but eventually hugged back. She could sense every fiber of his worry and concern.
“Byleth. Don’t ever do that again. You had me so worried . . . Goddess, I thought I was gonna lose you,” he whispered, shaking. She hardly ever saw him so worked up and vulnerable—and she felt even more guilty. She remained silent, and only hugging him harder.
He eventually let go, sighing deeply. He turned towards the nobles, who were standing awkwardly at the family reunion, clearly not wanting to interrupt the heartfelt moment.
Gruffly, he only said, “So, who the hell are you guys that my daughter found it necessary to risk her own life to save you?”
“Father! Don’t be so rude!” she chastised, even more heat coming to her face. She shook her head, sighing. “I’m so sorry about him—I, uh, never answered your questions, so, sorry about that. My name is Byleth, as you probably heard . . . my father and I lead a mercenary band, and we were out on patrol when we saw you guys under attack.” She bowed, beyond flustered.
The young woman only laughed softly, shaking her head. “No need to apologize, my lady. Indeed, we should be the ones saying sorry—you risked everything to come save a couple of strangers, and for that, we thank you again. My name is Edelgard von Hraesvelg, future Empress of the Adrestian Empire.”
“We clearly worried your dad here, so sorry about that again,” the darker skinned boy, who seemed the most laidback of the group, said, “My name is Claude von Riegan, future Leader of the Leicester Alliance.”
“And I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. A pleasure to meet you, and thank you so much again for your assistance,” the boy—Dimitri—said, bowing deeply this time.
Byleth didn’t think she could be even more shocked today, but apparently today was a haunted house field trip, because her jaw dropped to the floor.
First I apparently die and have a weird magical girl inside my mind making fun of me, I come back to life and rewind time—TIME—and when I do come back to life, it turns out I save ALL of the heirs of the three countries of Fódlan?!
Her entire body was wobbling and her mind was clouded with dizziness. She felt like she was about to pass out yet again, and a hand reached out to steady her—Dimitri looked at her with a worried gaze, and she felt herself blushing even harder.
Ah. Haha. Ahahahaha. The prince of Faerghus is touching my shoulder. By the goddess indeed.
“I’m so sorry, this must be taking a toll on you. It is quite shocking, isn’t it? But the reason we’re all here is that we were making our way to the Garreg Mach monastery—the military academy,” Dimitri explained, his hand still on her shoulder.
Byleth’s face was as red as a bleeding soldier. Edelgard and Dimitri seemed to think she was sick, but Claude only smirked, clearly aware of how flustered she was.
Edelgard nodded. She’s regal in every aspect. Even her head movements are so noble-like. “Unfortunately, we were ambushed by bandits, as you saw. But thanks to you we’re all alive. I can’t even imagine to think of what would’ve happened if you weren’t here. Please, how can we repay you?”
Byleth couldn’t even respond. Never in her life had so much action and drama happened—much less in a single day. Holy shit.
“Your thanks is enough. Let’s move on, By—”
“Wait! What if you came with us?” Claude interrupted. His sly smile was gone, replaced with a serious look. His arms were no longer crossed, now on his sides. He took her hands in his, and somehow, her face became even hotter.
“Like, as a student? I’m sorry, but my daughter is plenty skilled in the sword enough—” Jeralt assured, but Claude continued.
“You are obviously skilled as a mercenary and a soldier. And you defended Miss Edelgard beautifully. What if you came with us to teach at Garreg Mach? We could use talent like yours to teach the future generation of Fódlan,” Claude elaborated. His eyes were alight with fascination and wonder—had she really left that much of an impression on all of them?
“W-What?!” she exclaimed. She dropped her hands suddenly, and cursed herself for being rude, but she couldn’t help it. She was being offered a position at Garreg Mach? As in, the most prestigious military school in the whole continent?
What. Is. Going. On.
Jeralt’s face was one of extreme calm. “Garreg Mach . . . hmph. It has been a while since I was there.”
“You? Wait . . . don’t tell me . . . are you the Jeralt? The former Knight of Seiros? It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir!” the formerly calm and placated Edelgard broke her demeanor for just a moment, her eyes alight with admiration.
Now Jeralt was in the spotlight. “I . . . uh . . . yes, that would be me. How do you know . . . ?”
“Oh, sir, they always talk of you in Adrestia! They say you were the best knight of them all, and legendary in the battlefield! It seems your skill has passed down to your daughter,” Edelgard marveled, her perplexed lavender eyes studying his face like it was an ancient sculpture.
“Ah, well then . . .” Jeralt coughed. It was clear he had no idea what to say. While he was skilled in the battlefield, conversation was an entire different field—one out of his expertise.
“My, my. Well, with all of this, now you have to come with us. The legendary Jeralt and his daughter that saved us all,” Claude winked. His coy face was back again—and his eyes were boring into Byleth, as if analyzing a piece of literature.
Jeralt cleared his throat. “May I have some privacy with my daughter?”
Dimitri lowered his head. He truly was the embodiment of chivalry. “Of course, take your time. It’s a big decision. Although it is your choice, I for one welcome your help.”
The three heirs walked away, near a large oak tree, discussing their own plans. Jeralt turned to face his daughter, and sighed even louder than before. He massaged his face with his hand, clearly lost.
“Well . . . today has certainly been something, hasn’t it?” Jeralt groaned, pinching his nose with two fingers.
They both sat down on a log near a pond. Byleth could see both of their expressions reflected by the water—they were both consumed with exhaustion, noted by the bags under their eyes. But Jeralt seemed infinitely more fatigued than she did, which made the situation feel even worse.
They didn’t speak for moment, only listening to the cicadas humming in the quiet of the night. The moon was full—its light gleaming a pale, silver color. How did things change so quickly and so drastically? It felt like years since she was bantering with her father, training with her friends in the band, sinking her blade into enemies and monsters alike. But now, everything was different. She died and came back to life, she coincidentally saved the future heirs of the three major countries in the continent, and now she was being offered a teaching position in the most celebrated school in perhaps the world.
But, for some reason, all she wanted to do was go home and sleep.
Truly, she and her father didn’t really have a home—their base was always changing, and she had known sleeping in cramped tents and bunks most of her life. But Fódlan was her home. The frigid north of Faerghus, the long stretches of deserts in Adrestia, the dazzling waterfalls in Leicester—her entire life had been a journey, neverending travel, and she loved it. But she never cared to really think what she would do after she had fully matured, after Jeralt would be long gone . . . would she continue leading the group? Would she hand it off to a trusted general? Would she truly settle down, make a family, and become a docile housewife? What did her future entail, really?
“You’re thinking about all of this, aren’t you?” Jeralt asked. He always read her easily.
“Yeah.”
“It’s up to you, Byleth. I’ll follow whatever you do. But . . . if I can say something . . .” he stared into her eyes, and she felt like she was conversing with some divine, wise being, not her teasing and loving father.
“You really have the opportunity of a lifetime here. If you want it, take it. I can’t think of something more interesting than teaching a bunch of students the ways of the blade and the book—I feel like, if the Goddess really does exist, She would’ve made this happen on purpose. I don’t know much about fate, but this all seems so . . . in place. For you,” he went on, now gazing at the stars.
Byleth stared with him. She remembered so many countless, sleepless nights of just gazing at them until she fell asleep—by now, she memorized most of the constellations. Different patterns and stories of the great Ten Heroes, embedded into her mind. She wished that they could give her guidance now. She was never sure of her future, but now . . . everything had changed. She felt her heart beating against the black armor of her breastplate, and she closed her eyes.
That strange girl . . . Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude . . . Father . . . Mother. Mother, what should I do? I wish you were here . . .
She turned her head towards a nearby lily. It started to blossom, its petals reaching towards the moon.
Perhaps that was a sign in of itself.
She stood, patting away the dust from her armor. Jeralt stood with her, looking at her without any sort of emotion betraying his thoughts.
“You’ve decided.” It wasn’t a question.
She firmly nodded.
He already knew, it seemed.
She walked confidently towards the three nobles, who were still discussing various matters. They saw her approaching, and immediately straightened their stature.
“Have you decided? We would love to have you, but we understand if you do not want to go,” Dimitri asserted.
“I have. Take me to Garreg Mach, your Highnesses,” she deeply bowed, one hand over her heart, as she got on one knee.
They were all astounded—not just by her respect, but by her decision. Edelgard stumbled for words, Claude was scratching his neck awkwardly, and Dimitri seemed to be blushing.
“Please, no need for such formality. We’re friends now, aren’t we? We’re equals,” Edelgard declared, a warm smile on her face.
“I agree. Please stand. I’m more used to assassination attempts than people prostrating,” Claude joked, although he was clearly overwhelmed by her show of respect.
“Like they both said. We should be bowing to you, really,” Dimitri smiled. He seems like he doesn’t smile much . . . Byleth thought. She couldn’t help but smile back. He offered her his hand, and she gladly took it. It was warm, for a person with such an icy-looking face.
As she steadied herself, her father appeared before her. “Well, we better get going. The soldiers are still riled up after that whole ordeal.” Jeralt nodded towards the nobles. “Looking forward to traveling with all of you. It’ll be nice seeing Garreg Mach again.”
“Of course,” they all said at once.
Soon, their entire group headed to the monastery—and the journey began.
Byleth looked back at the lone lily.
A blossoming flower. I’ll take it, mother. I hope this is the right thing to do . . .