Chapter Text
United Kingdom of Fodlan, United Year 6 (Imperial Year 1192), Capital Derdriu, the Aquatic Capital
His Majesty could not sleep tonight.
But that was nothing new.
Ever since he received the crown, he saw her face as his eyes closed.
Most of the time he could ignore those eyes, force himself to rest. Fodlan needed him, the world needed him…
He shot up, lifting himself out of bed.
The Queen stirred.
This had gone on for far too long. What should he have done? What would anyone have done?
It all came back to that moment…
The future King of Fodlan stood in the Throne Room of the great Adrestian Empire.
Before him, the Emperor of Adrestia was collapsing, a bloody mess on the floor who was heaving her last breath.
“... Teacher… Claim your victory. Strike me down, you must. Even now, across this land people are killing each other. If you do not act now…”
She kept panting, telling him in agony how her death was a necessity. How, even now, she wanted to walk at his side.
“Dear…” The Queen of Fodlan mumbled, rising from her side of the bed.
And he killed her.
The King snapped out of his trance, and spoke softly now. “Go back to sleep, it’s fine.”
“It isn’t.” She shook her head. “You must think me a fool… You’ve been like this for months at least. Please, tell me what’s going on.”
“I… I can’t…” How could he tell her he was thinking of another? His wife, the Warrior Queen of Fodlan, had risked everything to walk with him, to abandon her old life and family to serve under his banner as one of his commanders. They threw everything at the Empire, everything for this vague dream of a better future.
It worked, the land was slowly changing now as both the King and Claude, the former leader of their merry band, envisioned.
Claude’s last letter had indicated similar contrition. There was too much death. But he was doing well, cozy in his position as the dual King of Almyra and Brigid. It was quite a challenge to rule two distinct lands from one throne, but King Claude and his wife, Petra, the Queen of Brigid, were managing.
“Byleth.” Fodlan’s Queen gripped his shoulder tightly. “Tell me what is going on. Staying up like this, pacing the floor at night as though your mind is consumed with worry… That is not healthy. Long ago, His Highness Dimitri-”
“I know.” King Byleth shook his head. “He was your friend, and he was obsessed with similar reg-” Byleth choked on his words. “-Issues.”
“It’s more than that.” She sighed. “I’m certain it had nothing to do with his duties as Faerghus’ King. There must have been something more fundamental. We received those reports, didn’t we? That Dimitri kept talking about the Tragedy of Duscur. That Tragedy scarred me as well, it destroyed the lives of everyone in Faerghus. I am not surprised if that is what consumed him.”
“Ingrid, I’m not Dimitri. What was haunting him is not hau-”
“I see the same eyes that I saw in him!” She nearly growled at him. “Maybe not the same resolve to destroy everyone in your way, but you seem no less distressed, no less obsessed with whatever is bothering you. Tell me what that is… We promised that we would spend our whole lives together, didn’t we? Why are you like this?”
He rose from the bed, head bowed. “I’m… I’m sorry… I can’t answer that.”
With that, he stormed off.
She sat there, on the bed, and stared as he retreated. She had no reply.
Derdriu Cathedral, Moments later.
He stepped forward, towards the altar, ignoring all those parishioners who stared at their King in awe.
Getting on his knees, he prayed to the Goddess.
He seemed to awaken again, but this time it was in a fairly dark room.
As he began to stand, somewhat disoriented somehow, there was a massive, yet familiar throne before him.
And on that throne…
“This again? How many times do I have to tell you that we cannot speak like this normally anymore?”
“S-Sothis!” Byleth got on his knees again. “I know that this is crazy, but I need you to do it again.”
“Phooey!” The Goddess nearly spat as she rose from her throne. “Did you take everything for granted? Do you think books just magically appear out of nowhere, allowing you to regain memories of previous lives and the ability to manipulate the feelings and knowledge of others?”
“I…” Byleth mumbled quickly. “I know it was crazy. I know it should have been impossible, but if you are a Goddess, then you should be able to do it again!”
“Why? Why should I risk time itself once more? You are King of a Unified Fodlan, and not the first time for all you know. You married someone who loves you and you are friends with the Joint Rulers of Almyra and Brigid. From anyone’s perspective, you have achieved all that one could possibly want. Why would you want to undo everything?”
“... Because this end was wrong. Because I could have done something
more
. Because…”
“Don’t tell me... You don’t love Ingrid and yearn for Edelgard?” Sothis grinned.
“It’s not that! I… I need a second chance.”
“To walk with Edelgard instead?”
“No,
to forge a better path.
You gave me that chance, I may not remember the details but it’s clear you do. Please, I beg you, let me turn back the wheels of time once more.”
“I cannot guarantee anything, Byleth. For all you know, this could be the very last time I use my powers. You may find yourself forced to accept that fate may not give you what you want.”
“It cannot end this way. There has to be a better way. Please, let me….”
“Very well. Let us see how you force your own path…”
“Hey… Brother…” A gentle voice called out to him.
“Wha-?” Byleth opened his eyes. There was a face that smiled at him. He could have sworn he saw it before.
“Brother?”
“I… What?” Byleth blinked. Though this woman seemed familiar, who was she, exactly?
It was at that moment that a certain man appeared in the room.
“Byless, is he awake yet? Oh, I guess he is. Hurry up and get ready, the battlefield has no time for idleness.”
Jeralt? Was that his father? Before Byleth could confirm anything, Jeralt left the room as quickly as he’d came.
Byless crossed her arms, glaring at him.
Byleth took a moment to gaze upon this woman. Someone who should have been his sister. They looked extremely similar, same hair and eye color, same facial structure (he’d seen himself in a mirror quite often really), so similar that they were certainly twins in more ways than one.
“I’ll get ready.” Byleth spoke, but as he rose from his cot…
“We need all hands immediately!” Someone yelled from outside the room. Byless immediately grabbed a sword and ran out. Byleth fumbled as he came across a bow, and quickly took after her.
Could this be happening? Sure enough, as if fate itself was repeating everything, three young nobles stood before them.
Jeralt, Byleth, and Byless pushed their way in front of the soldiers of Jeralt’s mercenary band, and the youths began to talk.
“Please, forgive our intrusion. We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire…”
Byleth froze for just a moment. It was happening! The events that had defined Fodlan were about to set in motion once more. But this time, could he set things right? And what was this mysterious twin of his doing here?