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"Oh my goodness, Professor!" Flayn's voice dropped to a whisper, and she set her teacup down to watch the tan-speckled tabby casually stalk towards them. The young woman's eyes are wide, glittering with wonder. "Look! We have a guest!"
Byleth hummed. To most, it was just another one of the monastery's strays, lured by the bounty of fish and the kind hearts of students and clergy alike who find themselves doting on the creatures. But to her? "That is Terrysand Elliot."
Flayn turned towards her, blinking. "Pardon?"
"His name. Terrysand Elliot."
"I...was not aware he had a name at all."
Byleth shrugged. "Did you ask him?" Flayn shook her head, bemusement trickling into her expression. "Sometimes cats will tell you their names. Other times, you must observe them."
"Professor, are you well-versed in the ways of - oh!" With all the grace of his kind, Terrysand Elliot lept onto the table, paws narrowly avoiding knocking over Flayn's teacup. His nose was in the tiny pitcher of cream before either Byleth or Flayn could remove him, and when his face came up and his little muzzle was all white, Flayn laughed and laughed. It was something new to note about this cat, Byleth thought as she removed him from the table and shooed him back towards the gazebo. Terrysand Elliot: rolls in the dirt pit in the knight's hall, perches on the backs of benches, and is a naughty cream thief.
She'll have to keep an eye out for him next time she brings a student to tea.
~*~
Felix had asked for a sparring partner, and, having the time, Byleth obliged him. It was also the third session in a row that Buttonswithstripes and her litter of five watched the proceedings. At first, it had just been Buttonswithstripes, a calico cat that she sometimes saw trailing after Felix. Then came the kittens, all small and bounding with energy, captivated by the dancing of blades. It was interesting to her, how sometimes cats would choose people to shadow, and Byleth had wanted to ask what drew this gentle mother cat to Felix, but he simply wasn't the type of person to discuss such things. So, instead, Byleth observed.
When their spar had ended, Byleth pretended to focus only on cleaning and maintaining the training sword she had used in the bout. In truth, she watched Felix look from side to side, confirm that no one else was in the training grounds, and then sat down near Buttonswithstripes. The cat got up immediately, kittens following, and butted her head into his knee.
"Sorry," he said, so quietly that Byleth could barely hear, "lunch was vegetable pasta salad, not fish. I'll bring some tomorrow if we have it."
Buttonswithstripes meowed, resigned to his answer, and climbed into his lap. Byleth turned her gaze away just as Felix looked over to see if she had noticed, and when Byleth turned back, he was expertly rubbing the mother cat behind her ears. The kittens had started to climb on him too, their funny whip tails sticking up, their cries curious.
"Ah, your children have gotten stronger," he said as one lifted itself up onto his leg to bat at his free hand. He let it gnaw at his thumb. "That's good. If they're going to fight the orange tom from the dining hall, they need to be."
That's right - Buttonswithstripes did not get along with that particular tom. To be honest, Byleth couldn't win his favor, either. Mulligan James, that scoundrel - he seemed bent on causing nothing but trouble.
~*~
The kitten Ashe held in his arms was ragged, soaked, underfed, and it squirmed weakly. He had come rushing in an hour after Byleth had asked him to run some errands, Caspar and Linhardt on his heels. (Well, moreso Caspar on his heels and dragging Linhardt by the wrist, but the sentiment was there.) All three of them were distraught.
"Professor," Ashe began, "I'm sorry I'm back so soon, I didn't forget the supplies you asked for-"
"-I've got the bag," Linhardt added, placing it down onto Byleth's desk.
"-It isn't everything and I'll go back and get the rest, but this kitten-"
"-Some jerk kicked it out of his house!" Caspar said, throwing his hands out in frustration. Byleth could see his knuckles were bruised, and knew what he was going to say next. "So I yelled at the guy, and he yelled back, and then I punched him, like, hyah! And he came at me and I ducked, like-"
"The Professor does not need the play-by-play, Caspar," Linhardt said.
"-And, well, we couldn't just leave it on the street to die," Ashe finished. There was a hurt, dewey look to his eyes that was sharp and bruised at the same time. "But it wouldn't eat anything we tried to give it, and Linhardt used some faith magic on it, so it shouldn't be in pain, but..."
Byleth's mouth was pressed in a thin line as she listened to the disjointed tale, and as Ashe trailed off, she held out her hands for the cat. Ashe obliged, and the little creature was like a fragile puddle of fur in her palms, weak and soft. Carefully, she opened its mouth, noting the lack of teeth. She breathed out a sigh in a puff of indignation.
"It's still a baby," She said, then checked between its legs. "He is still a baby. You might want to see if you can get an eye dropper and feed him some cream. Then, you're likely going to have to feed him every few hours." Byleth looked at the three young men before her. "Since you all worked to save Russel, you all have to take turns caring for him. Even if you'd rather nap, Linhardt."
Ashe, Caspar, and Linhardt looked between each other. "That's fine, Professor," Ashe said, "But...Russel?"
Byleth nodded, handing the kitten back to him. "That's right. It's his nickname."
"If we - and I do mean that loosely," Linhardt said, "because I didn't do much of anything - but if we saved him, don't we get to name him?"
"He already has a name. It's Brusselsprout Pie."
She said it so matter-of-factly because, to Byleth, it made sense. That was the kitten's name. Caspar balked at the suggestion.
"Uuuuh, yeeeah, I don't know, Professor, that's a weird thing to call a cat-"
Ashe, bless his soul, cut in with a chuckle, and held the kitten closer. "I like it! It's so unique, and I think it suits him! Russel it is."
"You can't be serious," Linhardt drawled, following Ashe as he took the kitten out of the classroom. "That name is ridiculous."
"Then you think of one, Linhardt."
"No, no, wait, I want to name him-"
The conversation trailed out after the three boys, and Byleth sighed, putting away the test she had been grading. It seemed the rest of the errands would have to be completed on her own time.
~*~
Of course, with such an abundance of cats at the monastery, it was inevitable that some would pass away, in time. Ingrid had come to Byleth the day before to request her "guidance" on a short trip to the nearby forest, her expression solemn. It was only when Byleth reached the gates that she realized what it was for. Ingrid was there already, standing next to a forlorn Mercedes, who gently held Marianne's shoulders as she tried not to cry over a wrapped bundle in her arms. She may have only recently begun to learn to process her emotions, but even Byleth understood the tug at her unbeating heart.
The group of four did not travel deep into the forest - just enough so that no one would easily come across the cat's tiny resting place. Ingrid had brought a shovel, and set to work digging the hole nice and deep so that nothing could unearth the creature. Mercedes picked flowers and bundled them up, and even came across a flat stone they could use as a marker. Even if no one would notice the grave, they would know that the cat was not forgotten. Marianne sat and waited, still cradling the bundle, and Byleth sat beside her in quiet solidarity.
"...She was already very old," Marianne said, her voice whispery and quiet. "But, sometimes, she would sit in my window and enjoy the sun. And she always listened when I needed someone to talk to." Carefully, Marianne pulled back some of the cloth to reveal a cat with wild, bushy grey fur and a snub face. Byleth felt her own expression pinch.
Oh no, she thought to herself, it was old Heatherfeather. Byleth had wondered why she didn't see her slinking about the dormitories lately.
"Was she in any pain?" Byleth asked. Marianne shook her head.
"No...I don't think so. But it seemed...the end seemed close, so, I let her come into my room and rest on a soft blanket, and I shared some dinner with her." Marianne sniffed, petting the cat's head before covering her up again. "I stayed up all night with her, until she passed in her sleep. It was...peaceful."
Oh, Marianne. Gentle and kind, even through her own troubles. Someone else would have commended her for her compassion, put a hand on her shoulder or hug her. Byleth did not feel quite right in praising her at the moment, and the idea of touch might make Marianne flinch, so she merely nodded her head in understanding and wondered how Ingrid and Mercedes had heard of what happened. Had Marianne reached out to them in the night? Had they heard her or seen her, mourning over the old queen?
Either way, they had come together in solidarity, and when Heatherfeather was laid to rest, Byleth wondered to herself if the Goddess of the Church of Seiros allowed cats into her kingdom above.
(If I were she, Sothis said in response, I certainly would let them in. And dogs, too!)
~*~
Edelgard and Hubert took dinner as late as possible, in order to eat and speak in a relatively empty dining hall. It was on one night where a tortoise-shell cat sauntered up to Edelgard, and when Hubert moved to leer over the creature, she nudged him underneath the table with her foot.
"Don't," she said, and Hubert stilled, meeting the gaze of his liege. "She's as welcome to be here as we are, Hubert."
"I simply do not want your repast to be interrupted, Lady Edelgard," he said smoothly. The expression on his face shifted slightly, to one of surprise, when she crinkled her nose and stifled a laugh.
"It isn't," she said, "not by Troutleap."
There was a pause.
"...Trout...leap."
"That is what the Professor calls her, yes." Edelgard plucked a piece of Bullhead from her bowl of stew with her spoon. "We spotted her while talking near the pond, and - well, let me show you." With the flick of her wrist, Edelgard sent the piece of fish into the air, and the cat followed it, head tilting up as it reached the apex of its arc, and, much like a trout, the cat sprang up, twisting as she caught the bite of fish in midair. Edelgard smiled despite herself.
"You see? She leaps like a trout."
Hubert was quiet, amost mystified by this rare moment of childlike impulse. Cats...he was not fond of any sort of animal, but if his Lady was so pleased by a simple trick...
"It is somewhat remarkable, I...will agree."
Though in his opinion, the enigmatic Professor certainly needed to work on her naming conventions. One did not have to be so literal.
~*~
Bernadetta was one of the few people who would sit and listen to Byleth prattle on about the different cats of the monastery. Even if being out and about made her nervous, she had admitted to feeling more at ease in the Professor's presence, and thus their time together, even when Bernadetta's dormitory door stood between them, was actually quite productive.
It was a surprise, then, when Bernadetta opened her door a crack when Byleth came to call, and thrust a twine-bound manuscript into her hands.
"Here! This is...it's a present for you!" Bernadetta shut the door with a click, her voice immediately muffled. "I know it's not very good, but, I...wanted t-to thank you...for, um, for the cakes you brought to tea the other day, and, uh...everything?"
Byleth blinked, looking at the book in her hands, and began to flip through. On every page there was a block of text - some kind of poetry, she realized, though the form was unfamiliar to her - and an illustration of the cat it described. Each drawing was so lifelike, and each description was one Byleth had relayed to Bernadetta before. There was Jonesytoes with his notched ear, and Bim Bim Blam who yowled from the courtyard bushes and scattered young couples attempting to find a place to hide away in, and even Sir Rennington Wells, the cat who kept the Gatekeeper company in the evening and watched the comings and goings of Garreg Mach with just as much attention. These cats and more graced the pages, and Byleth could feel herself smile. It wasn't a wide, obvious expression, but small and rare and it still made her cheeks hurt.
"I love it," she said, and kept it at that. Bernadetta could flounder and fall over her words sometimes, backpedaling to insist that her talents were nothing special, but if Byleth kept her praise simple and to the point, then there wasn't much she could do to make cracks in her own self esteem. For years after, Bernie's special journal of cat poems was read often and meticulously cared for.
~*~
There were things about Garreg Mach - really, about society in Fodlan - that Byleth...let's say she was not fond of them, to be kind. One of those things was how Cyril was treated. Even in subtle ways, the people of Fodlan would find excuses to slight him about his obvious Almyran heritage, and this time was no exception. Today, as Byleth passed the greenhouse, she spotted him wrangling what most people considered an omen of bad luck: a black cat.
"Come on, ya can't stay here, buddy," Cyril said, struggling to keep his grip on the writhing creature, "The greenhouse keeper says you're making a mess of the flowers, and I can't let ya ruin them, or Lady Rhea'll be sad!"
Byleth entered the greenhouse, her footsteps alerting Cyril to her presence. "Do you need some help?"
"Oh, Professor - no, thanks, I've got this." The cat made to dart over his shoulder, but he pulled it back down. "I just gotta get this guy out of the monastery and into town."
"The cat is going to return," Byleth said, crossing her arms. "They usually do, if you don't bring them far enough away. I doubt town is far enough."
"I know that, but I've gotta do it..." Cyril sighed, reaching up to scratch the cat's head. It started to calm itself, relaxing in his hold. "It's a shame, I really like this little guy. He catches the mice who try to get at the seeds in here. Not sure why they'd want to kick him out, but I guess we've got more cats to take his place..."
It was important that Byleth hold her tongue, and she did, but she didn't want to. Rhea would probably allow the cat to stay, but plenty of superstitious people, students and faculty alike, might recoil at an all-black cat stalking the greenhouse. The ill fortune they were said to bring was "all a bunch of bullshit", as her father would say, but some were quick to foist such things on those they did not like. The fact that Cyril was that person was, in borrowing Jeralt's phrasing, all a bunch of bullshit.
Before Byleth could respond, the greenhouse door creaked open. "Hello? I am here to be watering the plants." It was Petra, who smiled at the sight of Byleth and Cyril. "I did not realize I was not being...er, that I would not be alone here today."
Cyril gave her a nod. "Hey, Petra. Don't worry, I'll be out of here in a minute - just bringing this guy to town." When he held up the cat, Petra's eyes widened.
"Oh my! He is all black!" She drew closer, reaching out questioningly. When Cyril shifted the cat in his arms towards her, she pet it reverently. "In Brigid, we have very large cats in the wild. Some are black as shadows, like this one. They are protectors. Why would someone be wanting to make him leave?"
"Dunno. I think he's pretty helpful." Cyril looked over at Byleth for a moment, mouth opening for a question, before he snapped it shut. Still, she had an inkling of what he wanted to ask, even if he would never dare do so.
(The cat is later officially sanctioned by Archbishop Rhea to remain at the monastery as the official Greenhouse Mouser - which, incidentally, becomes his name. Cyril and Petra take turns making sure he hasn't done anything to tarnish that position.)
~*~
When Byleth passed by the Golden Deer classroom, a bag full of lost items slung across her back, she didn't expect to see anyone inside. It's a beautiful Sunday, and most folks are out enjoying it. But lo and behold, Raphael and Ignatz are there, and she recalled the wooden button and art book she had found a few months back. Ah, perhaps they are the owners of those respective items? She stepped into the doorway and knocked.
Ignatz jumped at the sound, dropping his sketchbook, while Raphael looked over to her and grinned, a large cat with batlike ears sitting calmly in his lap. "Professor!" They both exclaim, Ignatz red in the face and Raphael booming with excitement. "D-Did you need the classroom for something?" Ignatz asks. "We can do this elsewhere if you-"
"Professor," Raphael cuts in, "you've gotta see what Ignatz is workin' on today! It's so cool!" He gestured her over, while Ignatz scooped up his sketchbook and held it to his chest.
"Oh, it's not...it's actually a bit of an experiment," Ignatz said, "I wanted to practice drawing two different living figures at once, and Raphael had an idea, and I sort of..."
He shifted on his feet, and under Byleth's calm and patient gaze, turned the sketchbook around. There, just starting to take on solid lines out of the sketch, was a portrait of Raphael...with the cat's head. And the cat with Raphael's head.
Byleth couldn't see her own eyes twinkle, but she felt like they must be. "That is very creative," she said. "I like it."
Ignatz blushed, muttering about proportions and musculature, while Raphael nodded enthusiastically. "It's pretty great, isn't it? See, nobody expects a portrait where your head isn't what it's supposed to be! And Ignatz is so good at art, he can make it look like we're supposed to have different heads!" He hefted up the bat-eared cat, who merely blinked. "Isn't that right? You're gonna be in a famous painting, you know that?"
"T-There's no guarantee it'll be famous," Igantz insisted, but he smiled from the praise anyway, and Byleth found herself trying to imagine herself with a cat's head. It was tough. There were just so many local cats to choose from, how could she pick one?
"Whether it becomes famous or not," she said at last, "you picked a very good cat model. Raindancer is very good at staying perfectly still, and her features are unique from all the other cats here."
Ignatz looked puzzled at the name, while Raphael's mouth fell open. "Raindancer? That's so much better than Kitty! I've just been calling her Kitty," he said. "Did she tell you her name? Professor, can you speak cat-ese? Can you teach me?"
Her mouth tilted into an amused half-smile. "Of course."
~*~
Lysithea loved the Library Cat. Byleth didn't need to ask to know, just to see them interact once. By chance, they were both in the library, though it was an unspoken rule not to bother Lysithea when she was in the middle of reading vast quantities of tomes. Behind two stacks of books, Byleth spied a slice of cake on a plate, carefully hidden from plain sight and only indulged in when she seemed absolutely sure no one was looking. It helped, however, that the Library Cat stayed curled up next to her, acting as a barrier of fluff should anyone get too close and notice the contraband snack.
Lysithea would read, and the Library Cat would nap, and every once in a while when Lysithia took a bite of cake, she would push some of the whipped cream topping to the edge of the plate and let the Library Cat lazily lap at it. That's how Byleth knew their bond was true - Lysithia was not one to give up even a crumb of her sweets so easily.
~*~
It was technically a faculty meeting, but in truth, the lack of oversight from Seteth (he was busy, he claimed, and had faith that the adults could discuss things without him) really only could lead to one conclusion: an evening of drinking. Byleth wasn't a lush, not by a long shot, but she could nurse a glass of wine through the night while watching her colleages indulge.
Or, she could agree to "join" Alois and Shamir's conversation, moreso sitting and listening and nodding while Alois boisterously discussed some topic or another and Shamir refilled his glass and corrected him on this or that. Tonight...
"They make operas of all sorts of things," Alois said, "so I don't see the reason for there not to be one about cats!"
"Do you really think it would garner enough interest to be profitable?" Shamir asked. Byleth was sure she'd had at least two glasses by now, but Shamir still seemed as clearheaded as ever.
Alois nodded. "Yes, of course! Why, I don't know who would dislike such a thing!"
"Dog people, probably."
"Aah, I'm sure they would get over it. But can't you imagine it with me, Shamir? The songs! The dancing! The costumes!"
Shamir paused, regarding Alois carefully. "The costumes would give people nightmares."
"No they wouldn't! They would be beautiful and regal, covered in furs and in all sorts of patterns!"
"It would be hot and uncomfortable for the actors to dance and sing in anything like that."
With a sigh, Alois waved her concerns off, taking a sip of his drink. "Aah, well, I would want to see it happen. I've never seen a real opera, but I'm telling you, I'd be there in a heartbeat if it was about cats!"
Byleth raised her hand slightly. "I would see it," she said, and Shamir looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"...Well, I suppose it probably wouldn't be all bad."
~*~
"Captain Eisner, I must speak with you."
Jeralt looked up from the last of his paperwork, his expression unreadable as he shifted back in his seat. "Ah, Seteth. Come in. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Seteth's steps were brisk, and he stopped short of Jeralt's desk, hands behind his back. When Jeralt gestured for him to sit, he shook his head. "No, thank you, I will be brief. I know you must be off in the morning on business for the Church, but I wanted to..."
"Speak to me, yeah. Go on," Jeralt said. While his words were brusque, his tone was calm, even. But not congenial. Not friendly. The man always had his guard up, even now...Seteth supposed he could respect that.
"Well, let me get to the point. This is not a complaint, but a concern regarding...your daughter." Seteth expected some kind of reaction at that, but Jeralt's poker face was nearly as impeccable as Professor Byleth's. Only nearly, because she seemed to have mastered the art. "It has come to my attention that she has been discussing cats at length with the student body."
"..." Jeralt tilted his head slightly. "Cats, you say."
"Yes. Now, normally this would not be a problem, but, it has come up so frequently as of late that I am a bit concerned that she might become distracted from her duties as one of the esteemed faculty of the Officer's Academy. And with the Battle of the Eagle and Lion coming up..."
Jeralt heaved a sigh, stacking his remaining paperwork and putting it to the side. "Let me guess. You don't want to sound like you're being a buzzkill by telling her to knock it off and get her head in the game, so you want me to talk to her about it." He smiled slightly when Seteth balked.
"No, that's - ahem. I...merely wished to ask your advice on how to...broach the subject. It is as you say that I do not think this some ridiculous, punishable offense, but the standards of the Officer's Academy demand that our students and our professors be at their very best during this most important of mock battles. If one is not focused on the matter at hand, then their best cannot be achieved. Do you not agree?"
There was a hum as Jeralt pondered Seteth's words, and the advisor wondered if their prodigal captain was stalling on purpose, just to annoy him. When he finally spoke, it was with a slight spark of rememberance in his eyes, an aha moment that turned his expression soft and fond.
"I agree, but I think I know why she's so fixated, too." Jeralt leaned forward, leaning his arms on his desk. "Byleth and I never lived in one place for very long when she was growing up. Comes with being a mercenary. But I taught her to read and write, because you need to know that if you live in the world. And...there was one town we passed through when she was a kid, and it had a library." Seteth's brow furrowed. Where was Jeralt going with his story? "We were there for about a week, and the entire time Byleth sat in that library and read the same book over and over again. And..." He shrugged. "It was about cats."
"...Just...just about cats, Captain?"
"Yeah, just a bunch of rhymes about cats with funny names. She read it to me on our last night in that town." There was a twinkle in Jeralt's eye that Seteth could recognize in an instant - that of a proud father. "And then for months afterward she could recite the whole thing from memory. It drove me crazy. But ever since then, she always ended up watching any cats we came across, and later she'd tell me all the stories she made up about them. It was actually pretty cute, even if her delivery was totally deadpan." Jeralt chuckled. "It's probably because she's been here so long that she's doing it again. Though I don't see why anyone would be complaining about it if it's not doing any harm."
Seteth cleared his throat again, trying not to think of how the tips of his ears felt warm with embarrassment. This was a personal story, and one that he had been trusted with; it had not escaped his notice how private Jeralt was with his past. Frankly, Seteth could relate. "Well, it was not...I never mentioned a complaint of any kind, only that it had been mentioned lately - Flayn has taken to - discussing what the Professor has told her outside of lessons, and..."
He missed the recognition in Jeralt's expression, there for only a moment, before the captain laughed and pushed himself up from his seat, coming over to clasp Seteth on the shoulder. "Alright, alright, I'll see what I can do. But no promises. This place is sort of crawling with cats, after all. I don't know how long my kid can resist their charms." And with that he left Seteth standing in the Captain's Office, bewildered and a little flustered, unsure how to process this odd circumstance of events.
He still didn't know how to feel when, the next day as he cast out his line, Byleth came up beside him with her own rod and pointed out that the cats scattered when he came to the pier because he never baited his line, and would not catch even the most pitiful fish for them to try to steal.