Chapter Text
The baby has no heartbeat. She seems not even fully human; not crying once.
Byleth’s hands trembled as her eyes roamed over her late father’s words, her breath lodged in her throat. Tears that should’ve been rolling down her cheeks stood still.
A heart that was supposed to be beating with fear lay unmoving inside her chest.
Perhaps what hurt the most was the subtle details in the text. The shaky penmanship of the decades old diary entry seemed to reveal Jeralt’s emotions at the time he was writing it—fear. Pure, unbridled terror of his own child.
She felt the walls of her throat closing in, almost suffocating her—what did this mean? She knew she had a heart, but she never knew it was supposed to beat —that time when she was talking to her father and she suddenly doubled over in pain from the sudden thud in her chest—that was the first time her heart truly had life?
An unidentifiable feeling hovered over her like a black cloud. Bleak with despair, she realized what it was—shame. Deep, unflinching mortification—her entire existence was ignominious.
Her fellow mercenaries would call her the “Ashen Demon.”
She realized now she was much more than that. She was a demon, yes, perhaps the Queen of Hell herself—but her true nature was beguiled to her all this time.
A monster. That’s what she was.
Her entire world turned into one shaky, vertigo-infested haze. She felt like she was about to pass out from the claws of terror reaching at her sides. Friends and colleagues, always constantly joking she didn’t seem truly human. She would’ve never guessed they were right.
“Byleth! Byleth, snap out of it!” the high-pitched voice of Sothis cracked the air like lightning, and at once her vision cleared. Surprise racked her body at the sudden sound of the familiar guardian inside her mind.
Perhaps, if she wasn’t a monster, her heart would’ve jumped in fear.
She expected the strange girl to start chiding her like she usually did whenever Byleth became spacey or absentminded, but just the opposite happened. “Byleth . . .” her voice trailed off, harboring on the edge of pity.
The professor let out a bitter laugh. No one like her deserved pity.
“Do not fall into the hands of wretchedness over this. This . . . you are no monster, Byleth. You are still the same person. We do not know why you were born like this, but you are still human,” Sothis finally stated, her words trying to be as encouraging as possible. The sharp-eared girl suddenly materialized in front of her, a concerned frown etched on her face.
Byleth let the diary fall onto her father’s desk with a loud slam, making Sothis jump. She turned away from her, her shoulders slumped, eyes glazed over with a certain darkness. She hadn’t felt this way in a while—ever since she came to the monastery, she was so much more lively, happier, even—but the emptiness that consumed her now was nostalgic to her days as a cold-blooded mercenary.
Her voice monotone, she simply replied, “Leave me alone, Sothis. It’s no use. Someone like me doesn’t deserve sympathy.”
Sothis flew over to her, gracefully floating in the air. Her countenance was now more stern. “I said, you are no monster! Stop cursing yourself like some horrid creature! I—” her angry rant broke off, and a sudden flash of guilt struck her face. Byleth peered at her with newfound curiosity—did she have a revelation?
“In all honesty, it was probably my very presence that caused the state of your birth. Perhaps my existence blocked out any and all emotion in you—even your heartbeat,” she admitted, deep regret sewn across her expression. She hesitated with her words—she was obviously afraid of how Byleth would react.
A cold stone of realization dropped in her stomach. Her eyes widened in astonishment—Sothis was the reason for her unbeating heart? All those years of her emotionlessness; this epiphany of her being a monster —it was her doing?
Her first instinct was to lash out, to scream in rage at the green-haired girl, demand answers and apologies and retribution—but she stopped herself. It wasn’t as if Sothis willingly did that to her, or asked to even be tied to her soul—her father had mentioned in his diary of Rhea somehow interfering with her birth.
Rhea.
She had never truly trusted the Archbishop, and now that distrust had manifested into the ravaging feeling of violence and revenge. What did that damned woman do to her? Whispers of unknown voices infiltrated her mind, tempting her with plans of annihilation, bloodshed, and destruction beyond all else.
Her feet carried her out of the office, having a mind of its own as she began to storm out, but before she could even reach the door, Sothis appeared before her again, blocking the entryway.
She had no idea if Sothis could actually prevent her from leaving, but she wasn’t eager to find out.
“Get out of my way,” she said in a low, menacing voice. A voice she never used towards her friends; one reserved for the most despicable of enemies. The sound made Sothis flinch—and a twinge of regret seeped into her, but it was gone in an instant.
“I know what you are going to do, Byleth. And I will not allow you. If you raise your sword against Rhea, eternal damnation awaits you. She will use any means necessary to punish you if you dare rebel against her,” Sothis gritted her teeth, eyes narrowed—an expression Byleth would normally laugh and tease her about, but no semblance of that remained in her. She wasn’t even normal anymore. “Explore your conscious fully—you know you cannot do anything to her. She will undoubtedly offer no information and will not hesitate to use her power against you.”
Inside, she knew the girl’s words were true, but a part of her still refused to believe it. She had to do something, hell, anything. If she was ever wronged she’d get revenge. But in this situation, she was powerless, resigned to the fate of a monster against her will. And she absolutely abhorred it.
Her knees were to the floor before she knew it, and her entire body shook with fear of herself and what others would think. Of course, she would never tell anyone—if they knew the truth about her . . . She couldn’t bear to imagine their torments, their fear of her.
Goddess, what would Dimitri think? Her most trusted friend, an ally and confidant she would've never imagined to find in this lonely, cruel world. Maybe he would reach out his hand to her, maybe he would understand . . . No. Surely, he would treat her the same as the rest, and she cowered in terror thinking of his reaction to her abnormality. No; he must never find out; if he did, her life was good for nothing. It would have no meaning, now that her father was gone; if Dimitri scorned her, it was useless to keep going on. If he were to know, his hand would not be reached out in kindness; no, it would be reached out to drive his lance into her heart.
But to be forever doomed to this purgatory of self-hatred, this epiphany that she was literally a heartless monster, made her wish for death itself. To suffer alone for something she had no say in . . .
For the second time in her life, she wept, tears hot and stinging her face like a burning sigil. She did not wail in the way children do when they want to get their parents’ attention; rather, she bit her lip from crying out, forcing only herself and Sothis to bear this pain.
She didn’t remember much about what happened after that—faint memories of Sothis embracing her, her ethereal form somehow transcending reality itself, the carpet before her growing wet from her tears. Sound and sight were meshed together, but none of it mattered.
All that mattered was the existence of her curse. She was a stain upon this world; someone who should’ve never been born. More inhuman than any evil king or demon.
As she cried in the room of her dead father, she wondered if any salvation was possible.
No, she thought, I am a monster. That’s what I am and always will be.