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He was fairly certain that this was a new form of torture.
A technique designed to hurt him in a way that only the most cruel and vile of people would enact. His hand gripped the pommel of his blade tight, muscles clenching and unclenching as he watched the target he’d been told to hold off on killing just a few weeks prior. What had once been an amusing sight now became a daily ritual; each morning following his usual routine of running around the monastery before anyone woke ended with seeing them and that dark mop of hair peeking out over the neatly trimmed bushes that lined the walkway by the stables.
Each morning, as he’d return to the gated entry for the Knight’s quarters, Byleth’s head would rise above that line of green shrubbery. Blank eyes, the eyes of soulless killer, would meet his own, and they’d nod in Jeritza’s direction. Acknowledgement that the man had been seen, and his presence was known. At first, the stoic fencing instructor had just nodded back before retreating into the quarters and into his room. He’d not lingered, not bothered looking over the bush to see why the new professor was hanging out by the stables so early, much less why they was seeming to hide. Days past of this little ritual, and Jeritza found it funny. Clearly the new professor was so nervous of being seen they slunk around, hiding so poorly the fact they’d been called a demon and had been a mercenary at all was almost unfathomable.
Yet eventually it just.. was a part of the day. Jeritza had no reason to pay any close attention to them, not past if they might offer a good fight or if they might perhaps be able to kill him. But that was then. This? Now?
The soft mewing that came from the sleeves of Byleth’s coat had him wondering why he’d been so cursed. With a crest, with his father, with his lot in life and now this?
“The stable master chases them out with his broom.” The monotone of Byleth betrayed no hints of emotion, yet Jeritza got the distinct impression that he found the method abhorrent.
“So I come to fetch them and take them to the fishing pond. They always come back here though. Probably because of the mice.” The grey cat currently purring atop the boot of the man seemed perfectly content to bat at the hanging cloth, not paying any attention to the looming interloper that was Jeritza.
Jeritza, who wanted to stab Byleth for daring to cause him this pain.
Byleth, two kittens mewling in their arms, one clambering in their sleeve, and one cat on their foot while another kitten climbed atop their back…
It was disgustingly adorable.
Jeritza had no love of people, but the cats of Garreg Mach were just cats. They minded their own business, did not care if you smelled of sweat and blood, had no political motivations, no ties that stopped them from seeking out that which would prove to be their undoing… cat were perhaps the one thing in the world that he rather liked.
And Byleth was covered in them; they mewled and purred as if Byleth were the most alluring of persons. As if they were made of catnip and fish and they couldn’t get enough of the stoic professor.
Jeritza wanted to stab them. They had no right to look so cute, the kitten now on their shoulder, purring, rubbing it’s face against the professor’s cheek. He was supposed to loathe this person, have to kill them. So how come they had to look so cute covered in cats and kittens, tenderly playing with their paws and presing the beans to make the tiny claws come out? How come they had to carry them and tell them softly to stop moving else they would be dropped as the professor ushered towards the fishing pond- pouting when one of them decided they wanted to grab the tails of the man’s coat and make them stop to scoop up the trailing cat, leaving them to struggle to hold all the small purring machines at once?
How come they had to give such cute name to the cats? Speckles (“He doesn’t have any so I had to give him one and that means it’s his name.”). Mr. Big. (“He is lazy and fat but always says hello.”) Peony. (“She likes to hunt down bugs in the garden.”) Crestofer. (“Because the mark on his butt looks like a crest”). Hubert. (“He looks just like the student, see?” (He did. He even attempted to swipe at him and Byleth both.))
“And this one is Sothis.”
Jeritza tilted his head. “You named one after the Goddess… why?”
Byleth looked back at the tiny kitten, a tabby with green eyes and a crooked tail. “Small.”
Jeritza wanted to stab the professor. It was such a nonsensical reason. Utterly rubbish- but little Sothis was so cute and she clearly liked her name as she ran up to headbutt the outstretched hand of Byleth, purring far louder than any other cat or kitten so far.
“...”
“...”
They sat in silence, long blades of straw dangled and swung around to entice the cats and kitten to play, batting at the ends. He wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t usually interact with anyone, much less for this long. Jeritza blamed the cats. Clearly Byleth had found a weakness, the gap in his armor. He’d have to be more mindful of exposing his interests in the future. After all, Byleth was a target- a possible worthy opponent. Someone who could spill his blood and provide a much needed challenge.
And here they were.
Play with cats.
Not a single care in the world.
It was enough to make Jeritza sick.
It also made him want to ask if it would be okay for him to join the professor in their morning ritual of escorting the cats from the stables to evade the stablemaster’s broom. It made something odd feel in his chest. Just above his torso but below his neck and it wasn’t in his gut. He didn’t know that feeling. He didn’t like that feeling.
He didn’t like how Byleth had a tiny smile. Didn’t like how cute it made the professor look. How he wanted to reach out, pull at the professor’s cheeks, seeing how much they would squish and if they were soft like a cat’s face. Jeritza didn’t like how he wondered all of the sudden, if he pushed on Byleth’s hand, would they be soft like the toe beans of a cat or rough like his own. He didn’t like any of it.
He didn’t like how Byleth asked if he wanted to play with the cat later. If he wanted to play with the cats with Byleth later. He didn’t like how he said yes because he did. He wanted to play with the cats later. Wanted to play with the cats with Byleth later.
Byleth had created the worst form of torture Jeritza had ever known.
He’d made Jeritza stare at how cute they’d looked, covered in cats.
As he finally reached his room, cat fur lingering on his coat. The memory of Byleth, standing, mournfully staring at the cats as they mewed at him, asking for treats- Jertiza vowed to kill Byleth for what he’d done. For being so cruel as to be so adorable.
Without prompt he stabbed the wall with his sword.
“This is… unacceptable.”
The next morning Jeritza didn’t do his usual run. He instead spent it silently, sitting behind a bush with Professor Byleth, waving around a ribbon for the tiny Sothis, entirely unknowing how the kitten’s namesake was screaming at their host to stop playing with said kitten and just to ask the silent fencing instructor out on a date.
After all, all this unspoken pining nonsense was just a form of torture of the worst sort and such a thing?
It was unacceptable.