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Church seemed a bit pointless to Byleth. All of that singing and praying and reading things out loud for what end? Even if a goddess was watching over them, did she really want to hear the same old prayers over and over again?
The advice box was the best thing about the cathedral. That at least was practical: people in trouble would submit their concerns or air their grievances, and other people could help them. Must of teachers seemed less enthusiastic about it—Manuela had found it downright odd when Byleth told her that they enjoyed offering advice—and so the task of checking it every day had unofficially fallen to the school’s newest professor.
Byleth had found a great many odd inquiries over the last few months, but so far there had yet to be a question they could not at least guess at a decent answer for. It seemed like their instincts for helping people tended to be fairly on the mark.
And yet today's note was particularly baffling. The outside was inconspicuous, just the typical small rectangle of parchment, folded over. When Byleth unfolded the parchment they were met with a single line in thick but even cursive.
I desire your heart in my hands.
Byleth cocked their head. That wasn't much to go on in the first place, and the handwriting wasn't familiar. How, then, were they to answer? It seemed wrong to ignore the note. Surely by now everyone knew that most of the answers came directly from Byleth. Just last week Annette had shyly asked if they'd happened to have gotten a questoin about making up songs, and she'd practically skipped off when she was told that yes, and that Byleth had answered it. What if whoever wrote this note was also hoping that Byleth would reply?
And yet... this was an advice box. The note wasn’t asking for advice.
All right. Byleth scribbled on the paper. That would encourage some elaboration, hopefully.
When they checked the box again the next day they found the same note with an addendum.
Meet me outside of the training grounds.
It was a challenge, then. A roundabout way to go about it, given how many people did so openly, and how willing Byleth was to accept a challenge over something as small as a sword or a few gold as a reward. Still, odd as it was Byleth saw no reason to decline.
The training grounds were clear on the other side of the grounds, but now that Byleth was getting to know their way around it was a quick enough jog. Tempting as it was, they even resisted feeding the cats along the way, just in case the note’s sender had been waiting for a while.
There, they were met by a familiar figure, tall and—as always—not quite scowling.
"So... you did come," said Jeritza.
Byleth nodded. "You challenged me."
Jeritza furrowed his brow just slightly. "Did I?"
"'I desire your heart in my hands; meet me outside of the training grounds'. That's what you said, isn't it?"
"I suppose it was."
"You asked me before to spar with you. I should have known."
"You should have. Come." Jeritza opened the door, waved him in. "We are both fortunate that murder is not permitted in these grounds. I would hate to lose you so soon."
Jeritza seemed oddly satisfied by how easily Byleth won. He fought with a ferocity, but not in the same way as the Death Knight. Here, Jeritza was able to restrain himself. Byleth wondered if things might go differently if they were ever enemies.
"You...paired with that sword... It may bring about my end one day," he muttered as Byleth held their blade at his throat, a definitive victory.
"Do you want to die?" Byleth asked, tilting Jeritza's chin up with the tip of the sword. It was an inexplicably nice view.
"Perhaps I do,” Jeritza said, faintly blushing.
"So long as we're on the same side, I'd really prefer not to kill you. Strong allies are difficult to find."
"Then I may have to become your enemy one day. Death by your hand would be an honor."
"For now, only sparring."
"That will be adequate... for the time being."
Byleth raised an eyebrow. "And later?"
"I have other ideas for next time," Jeritza drawled, his voice more gravelly than usual.
From across the room, the tournament officer coughed loudly.
Byleth slid their sword back into their scabbard. It wasn't much of an answer, but Jeritza wasn't the sort of man to say any more than he had to. That suited Byleth just fine; they had plenty of time to better understand him.
...
When Byleth entered their classroom the next day they were met with a bouquet on their desk, roses tied together with twine. Flowers seemed to be a common enough gift here, but it was a bit unexpected, and there were so many of them, at least two dozen. Beside them was a note, and when Byleth unfolded it they recognized the handwriting as Jeritza’s:
Every rose has thorns. Each beauty conceals the power to kill. Does that make them even more beautiful? I believe so.
May I show you my thorns?
Byleth set it all aside. A follow-up match seemed a bit premature, but it wasn’t the worst idea.
"What a magnificent display!" cried the first student to enter: Ferdinand, at least fifteen minutes early as was typical for him.
Constance had joined him this time—a new member of the class, but it wasn't surprising that they got along. "My, my, do you have a sweetheart?" she cooed, coming closer to admire the bouquet. "And what large, healthy blossoms. Truly the work of a master gardener."
"No sweetheart," Byleth said. "Why do you ask?"
Ferdinand and Constance looked to each other, then back at Byleth.
"I'm surprised, Professor. Roses are the flower of love!" Ferdinand said. “A dozen roses for a lover on an important date, such as an anniversary or an engagement. Two dozen for—my goodness, I do not even know!”
"If you have no sweetheart, then it is a confession!" Constance added. “It must be.”
"...I don't think so," said Byleth, handing her the note. "It's more of a threat."
Constance read the note and immediately went pale. "This is… I take what I said back. Perhaps you ought to be careful.
“Who could have possibly sent this?” Ferdinand asked as he read over her shoulder.
“Jeritza,” said Byeth.
“Then it is most assuredly a threat.”
Constance nodded. “And yet... why deliver such a note with such carefully grown roses?"
Byleth only shrugged.
Byleth nearly jumped out of their skin when a voice came from behind them with nary a hello beforehand: "Did you like them?" They relaxed when they realized it was only Jeritza, a welcome enough interruption to Byleth’s second lunch.
"Why so many?" Byleth said.
"Less than that seemed like it wasn't nearly enough," Jeritza replied.
"Right, to give to all of the students. Thank you."
Silently, Jeritza invited himself to sit beside Byleth. (Ashe, sitting on Byleth's other side, promptly excused himself with a whimper.) He was frowning, and they stared at each other for what most people would probably consider a disturbingly long time, although Byleth didn't particularly mind. Sometimes watching someone was more interesting than talking to them, and evidently Jeritza agreed.
"Is this seat taken?" asked a familiar voice, breaking the spell. On the other side of the table stood Mercedes, all smiles as per usual.
"It's not. Also, I think your brother is trying to murder me," said Byleth.
"Oh my!" said Mercedes, apparently not surprised.
"Not yet," said Jeritza.
"Oh my!" said Mercedes again. "Emile, would you be a dear and pass me the salt? Thank you, now tell me why you want to murder our lovely professor."
"I'm trying to seduce them."
"In that case you might want to make your intentions a bit clearer."
Jeritza turned to Byleth. "I'm trying to seduce you. Unfortunately it does not seem to be working. The roses... you were supposed to keep them."
"Was I?"
"Did nobody tell you what roses mean? A pity."
Oh.
"Oh," Byleth said.
"Traditionally, roses are given to one's lover. I thought Constance would tell you that if you didn't know," he explained, his eyes locked on Byleth. Almost unblinking.
"Right. So..."
"So."
"Are you in love with me?" Byleth asked, dumbfounded.
"Am I in love..." Jeritza drawled. "I wonder."
"I think I get it now," said Mercedes.
"I don't," said Byleth. "Can you elaborate?"
"When he was small, Emile left a frog in my bed."
"She screamed very loudly," Jeritza added. "Even though he was a good frog."
"He was a good frog! I was pleased to meet him once I realized that was all it was, but it took a moment."
"I don't see the problem."
"A few years later for my birthday, he cut all of the herbs I'd been growing at once and put them in the kitchen for me. It was a mess, and I couldn't possibly use them all at once."
Jeritza shrugged. "I'm not very good at cooking. I didn’t know you wanted to save some of them to use fresh."
"Anyway, be patient with him, won't you?"
Jeritza took a generous bite of his lunch—which, Byleth noticed, was three strawberry shortcakes and nothing else. They idly wondered if he'd had to threaten the cooks to give him only dessert. "I'll be patient," they said.
So it seemed that Jeritza had odd ways of expressing his affection. Fair enough. Personally, Byleth would have preferred a practical gift over fresh-cut roses, but the sentiment was appreciated nonetheless.
...
Byleth found the next note bright and early the following morning It was pinned to his bedroom door with a dagger that glinted in the sun:
A sign of my feelings.
Still slightly ominous, Byleth thought, but not unpleasantly so. Daggers were useful things, and they cost money. Byleth was more than happy to receive one for free, regardless of Jeritza’s intentions.
Come to think of it, now that they knew said intentions, they were probably expected to respond one way or the other. That was how it worked, wasn’t it? Frankly, the concept of romance was about as foreign to Byleth as it seemed to be to Jeritza. In that sense they were practically made for one another.
It was hard to put the feelings into words, Byleth realized, and Jeritza didn’t appear to be very talkative. No wonder he'd resorted to a series of cryptic letters and unconventional gifts. Byleth wasn't even in love and they were already beginning to think that love was too complicated to be worth it.
But Jeritza was... unique, and compelling, and certainly strong. All things that seemed desirable in a partner, from what Byleth had managed to gather from the happy couples they knew.
And he was trying to seduce them, apparently. That didn't sound awful, and it would be a great opportunity for sparring dates. Byleth ought to give it a try.
And so Byleth found Jeritza predictably near the training grounds once again.
"You're back," he said, deadpan as ever. But Byleth got the sense somehow that he was happy to see them— maybe it was some glint in Jeritza’s eye or the barest hint of a smile on his face. Hopefully Byleth might eventually be as good as Mercedes was at reading him.
It was all a lot to tell Jeritza at once. Instead, Byleth went for something simpler.
"Go fishing with me."
"Fishing?" Jeritza asked.
"I like fishing."
"All right."
Evidently, Jeritza was not good at fishing. He was very good at staying still, so Byleth had expected that everything would go smoothly, but it turned out that he wasn't familiar with the mechanics of it all.
"Haven't you ever been alone in the wild with no food in your pack?" Byleth asked as they demonstrated their practiced technique to bait the hook.
Jeritza watched closely, not flinching at the sight the way some of the students did when they watched Byleth fish. "I'd rather just shoot a rabbit. Maybe a deer."
"That's so much work."
"It's more amusing."
...that sounded about right for Jeritza.
"Do you want me to show you how to cast it?" Byleth asked. When Jeritza nodded in response, Byleth handed him the line. He stared at it blankly and Byleth sighed. "Here," they said, moving closer. They positioned themselves next to Jeritza, placed their hands on top of his. It was a bit awkward given how much taller he was than Byleth, but it worked well enough. Jeritza tensed, then quickly relaxed into the touch.
Together, they cast the line, Byleth leading and Jeritza allowing himself to be guided. And then, as it tends to go with fishing, they waited.
"Is it necessary for you to stay like this the whole time?" Jeritza asked.
"Not really," said Byleth, not moving.
"You may stay."
Byleth did stay, their body pressed against Jeritza. He was warm, and Byleth could faintly feel his heart beat. There was something enticing about that, and Byleth didn’t want to pull away from him any sooner than he had to. Soon enough Jeritza wouldn’t need any more fishing guidance, and that was almost disappointing.
A fish bit soon enough, and Byleth snapped out of their reverie. They reeled it in together, and it went as smoothly as could be expected with two people sharing one line. Satisfied with the first catch, Byleth had Jeritza make his next cast alone. Much as it would be nice to hug him again, the fishing came first. Jeritza fumbled with the rod a bit but eventually succeeded, and Byleth took up their own rod once again.
This? This was nice. This was how Byleth would imagine a courtship, if Byleth had ever bothered to imagine courtship before in their life.
"You like fishing," said Jeritza, after an extended silence, during which Byleth had caught three fish and an old boot and Jeritza had caught nothing.
Byleth mumbled what was meant as some sort of agreement and Jeritza nodded, satisfied with that answer.
"In that case," said Jeritza, "I like fishing too."