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“Byleth! Please! You cannot go!” Seteth was pleading with Byleth, but she was hardly listening as she secured her bags to the back of her horse.
“I am the one person who absolutely must go, Seteth.” She didn’t turn to face him, knowing full well that neither of them would concede. “It’s my fault in the first place.”
Before Seteth could respond, Byleth was already on her horse, calling for the knights to follow her as they left the monastery for Derdriu.
Rumors had begun popping up within the past few weeks that former Imperial soldiers along with what was left of Those Who Slither In The Dark were joining forces, and planning an attack on the Alliance capital. As soon as Byleth had heard she started preparing a small battalion to accompany her should the rumors be true.
She didn’t want to fight the soldiers. It wasn’t their fault. It was her’s.
Once the war was over, that was it. They had nowhere to go, nothing to do. They had been abandoned. Forgotten.
And she was to blame.
As Queen it was her job to watch over the citizens of the now united Fódlan, and she had failed in less than a year.
The entire time it took to arrive in Derdriu Byleth had hardly eaten anything, nor had she slept much. During her days as a mercenary and professor she never had much trouble with taking care of her basic needs. It wasn’t until the war had started that she began to experience troubles sleeping, often lying awake at night, frequently going on late night walks in hopes of easing her growing anxieties. Since becoming Queen of the newly united Fódlan her worries have only grown tenfold, only now she no longer had a certain charming Almyran prince next to her side to help carry the burden.
Once in Derdriu, Byleth and her battalion met up with the soldiers who had already been stationed in the Alliance capital city, but before she could exchange information, and get a full grasp of the situation there was a sudden boom mixed with the sounds of people screaming. Several houses and shops had been engulfed in flames, and the sky was quickly being painted with the smoke.
Without thinking, Byleth charged in the direction of the flames, determined to end the fight as quickly as possible. She already felt guilty enough for her handling of the former Imperial soldiers, she didn’t want innocent blood on her hands as well.
She ran and ran, pumping her legs as fast as she possibly could, cursing herself for not being able to get there sooner.
Once on the scene, Byleth immediately charged into battle, removing the Sword of the Creator from her hip, and ran headfirst into a crowd of former Imperial soldiers. One soldier lunged forward, sword being stopped quickly by Byleth. Though as she blocked the first attack, another soldier leapt at her from behind. She flipped to the side, just barely dodging, causing the two soldier’s weapons to clash.
Before she could get her bearings, two more soldiers came at her. Once within distance, Byleth released the Sword of the Creator, it’s segments sliding apart as she whipped it at their legs, causing them to not only trip, but tearing through their armor, wounding them enough that they were unable to stand without pain. Though the wounds were nowhere near being fatal, even without treatment.
As a mage was preparing to hit Byleth with a fire spell, she released her sword, hitting their hands with the end as it stretched in their direction. Again, she left only minor wounds on her foes.
A few soldiers came charging at Byleth, however, instead of defeating them with her sword, she grabbed a nearby plank of wood that had fallen from one of the destroyed buildings, and knocked them unconscious with it.
Soldier after soldier charged after Byleth, mages and archers shooting at her from the sidelines, and again and again Byleth incapacitated them, leaving minor wounds at best. Though they were the enemy she couldn’t bring herself to harm them anymore than she already had, still feeling at least somewhat responsible for their strife.
Due to the seemingly endless waves of soldiers lunging for Byleth, the assassins hidden amongst the shadows went unnoticed. Once the opportunity presented itself, they struck. Firing arrow after arrow upon her, several hitting her legs, shoulders, and arms. As she started to fall towards the ground, she managed to catch herself, resting on her knee as she panted from the exertion, and winced in pain. However, before she could regain her composure, one soldier sliced at her back, leaving a deep gash, as another cut her from the front, slicing open the skin on her forehead, just above her eye.
Suddenly she was surrounded by mages from Those Who Slither in the Dark, and she could tell she was done for. This was her last battle.
Blood pooled in one of her eyes as the other one burned from skin oil and sweat, severely impairing her vision. However, just before hitting the ground Byleth could have sworn she had seen a dazzlingly beautiful white wyvern soar through the sky.
Just as suddenly as she had fallen, she was awake in her bed in her room at the monastery. Her body ached. Muscles beyond sore, bones creaking as she attempted to move.
She had barely managed to get into a sitting position before she was falling onto the bed once again, crying out in pain as she landed on the deep wound on her back.
The door suddenly barged open, Claude rushing through with concern written all over him. “Byleth!” He called out.
However, before he could even approach her bed, Manuela was ushering him out of the room, “How many times do I have to tell you, Claude?! No visitations until she’s recovered!”
Manuela locked the door once she had shoved Claude out of the room, sighing in exhaustion as she pulled a chair up to Byleth’s bed. Gently she helped Byleth into enough of a sitting position that she was able to take a sip of water from a cup that had been sitting on one of her bedside tables.
“I don’t know how you put up with him for so many years! Honestly, it’s almost as if he doesn’t trust me as a physician.” She grumbled.
Byleth looked up at her in confusion, memories of the battle hazy.
“Manuela, what happened?”
“No no no, first you’re going to tell me how you feel while we get these bandages changed.”
Manuela got up from her chair, and walked into the adjacent bathroom, filling a large bowl with water so she could clean the wounds before she redressed them.
“I’m fine for the most part.”
“‘Fine’ is not the word I would use to describe your situation, but if that’s truly how you feel then there’s nothing I can do about it.” Manuela sighed as she placed the large bowl on the bedside table, and gently helped Byleth into a sitting position.
Carefully Manuela unwrapped the now blood-soaked bandages from Byleth’s torso, frowning once she noticed that part of the wound was healing onto the bandage. “As for what happened, after you recklessly charged into battle without even so much as a single knight at your side, you, for whatever reason, barely injured the enemy soldiers, and as a result was quickly cut down. Had Claude not showed up so suddenly with his troops you and all of Derdriu would have been engulfed in flames.”
Byleth remained silent as Manuela applied ointment after cleaning her back.
“Honestly Byleth, you’re going to end up giving me wrinkles and gray hairs if you keep pulling stunts like this. I only have so much ointment to help with scarring! I used the last of it on the cut just above your eye. What I’m applying to your back will help minimize it, but it will still be pretty severe.”
“I’m sorry for worrying you, Manuela.”
“The best apology I could receive from you right now is you getting plenty of rest, and healing up, your majesty.”
Once Manuela had finished patching Byleth up, she helped her lie back down, wrapping her up in blankets, and gently kissing her forehead, much like a mother would. After Manuela shut the door behind her as she left, Byleth could clearly hear her scolding Claude again, causing her to smile as she drifted off.
“Your majesty, I do not think it wise to continue on with the ball so soon after the attack on Derdriu.” Mumbled one of Byleth’s many attendants as they pulled the strings of her corset tighter. “At the very least you should not be in attendance. Your back has still yet to fully heal!”
Byleth gasped out a breath of air as the corset was pulled tighter and tighter, her back aching from the partially healed wound, and her ribs practically cracking from the pressure. “To cancel the ball would make us appear weak and vulnerable after the attack. There are already rumors flying around that I’m at Death’s door, which could lead to other countries wanting to invade, and frankly, we don’t have enough man-power to fight off such an attack yet.
“I cannot let people continue to believe the ruler of the newly Unified Fódlan is a weak-willed pushover who would keel after the first sight of a revolt. Despite my body begging me to rest, there are just some things that are more important.”
Byleth continued to get dressed and ready for the ball that was to happen in a few hours. In addition to rebuilding the Knight’s Academy, and restoring the church, the annual ball meant to celebrate the church’s founding had also been reestablished, though know it was meant as a celebration of a unified Fódlan, one no longer plagued by borders, and was instead encouraged to unite together as one people.
Despite the ball not even starting for several hours, nearly all of Byleth’s personal attendants insisted she begin getting ready as soon as she possibly could. The abundance of time allowed for them to perfectly plan and coordinate her outfit, hair, and makeup, and to fully brief her on the many invitees and possible guests. Had she been in a position to do so she likely would have considered merely not going through with the ball, and instead remaining in her chambers all night for some peace and quiet.
For the most part, Byleth remained still, calm and collected as she was prettied up, much like a show pony must be before being presented to the judges, allowing the hours to fly by her until it was finally time for her to make her way down to the ball. She walked next to many maids and ladies who had spent the day making her presentable, smiling as much as she could muster as she entered.
The large doors slowly swung open, creaking as they did so - practically knocking over those too close from the force - and all at once, all eyes landed on her. It was as if she had a halo floating above her head, attracting the attention of every person in attendance, as they stared at her with awe in their eyes. The silence of the room started to dissipate as people began whispering to one another, some returning to conversations they had been in the middle of before her arrival.
Though to her, there was only one set of eyes she cared about, yet no matter how hard she looked, she could not seem to find them in the sea of people. She longed to see them, having been denied the entire time she was recovering as she was under strict orders to remain in her bed, only leaving when necessary. Her visitors had also been limited as she recovered, in part to keep her safe, but also because it was no secret that there was a certain man that never failed to make her act rashly, following only what her heart told her.
As she stood there searching for him, she failed to notice a certain purple haired man and orange haired woman walk up at her, smiles beaming at the sight of her.
“Profes- Your majesty,” Lorenz cleared his throat, attempting to cover up his mistake, causing Leonie to laugh lightly at his expense.
“Please, Lorenz, we’ve been through far too much for such titles. You should know by now that I prefer you call me by my name.” Byleth smiled as Leonie hugged her close.
“Long time, no see, Eisner. How ya holdin’ up?”
“Almost fully recovered from the attack. It’s nice to finally be out of that room.”
“Ah, that reminds me. Have you, by chance, seen Claude? I was told that he would be in attendance, but I’ve yet to see him.” As if to emphasize his point, Lorenz glanced around the room, still not finding the missing Riegan.
“Unfortunately, no. I haven’t seen him at all since the attack.”
Leonie looked at Byleth with a confused expression, “I’m surprised. I would’ve assumed he’d have broken into your room by now if he’d been denied to see ya.” She sighed as she shrugged, “I still don’t know why he wasn’t allowed to see ya when he’s the one who saved your ass.”
Byleth laughed as Lorenz sighed at his wife’s potty-mouth, though it was obvious it didn’t genuinely bother him, likely finding it more so a part of her charm rather than a nuisance. It was no secret that he was positively enamored with her, and would do anything and everything he could to keep her happy.
“Perhaps becoming a king has reigned in his schemes, and caused him to mature enough to realize just how inappropriate that would be, especially if he had been caught doing such a thing.” Lorenz’s face burned red as he spoke, “Can you imagine the rumors that would without a doubt arise from such impropriety? Some members of the court would likely even attempt to use such rumors to their advantage, and try to do something unsavory.”
Leonie laughed as she watched her husband pretend to cough so he could hide his blushing face in his handkerchief. “As if! Even if someone did try to sully the good name of our dear professor, it wouldn’t end well for ‘em seein’ as how she’s got all of us to do the dirty work.”
“Leonie, you know I’d never ask you to do any-”
“No, course not. We’d do it even if you told us not to ‘cause like hell would any of us let someone try to tarnish your’s or Jeralt’s legacy.”
Byleth smiled warmly at her former students. It’s strange to think that they’d all met because her father’s mercenaries just so happened to be nearby when the three lords were being attacked. Not only that, but that Alois and the Knights of Seiros had been involved as well, leading to Jeralt’s return - Byleth’s arrival - to the monastery. Had even so much as one detail been different it's likely none of this would have ever come to be.
“Excuse me.”
All three of them turned to the newcomer, a nobleman who had been shyly watching Byleth since she arrived at the ball.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid I won’t have the courage to ask this much longer,” With a clear of his throat, the man looked down at Byleth as he held out his hand “May I please have this next dance, Your Majesty?”
With a smile, Byleth took his hand, and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor, “Of course.”
Truth is, Byleth wasn’t much in the mood for dancing, especially because her back was still feeling just the slightest dull ache, and the swaying and movement involved in even the slowest of dances of high court were proving to agitate the wound. She’d much rather have stood with Leonie and Lorenz, or any of her other former students, chatting the night away, but she didn’t have much of a choice. It was her duty as the new ruler of the Unified Fódlan to be an excellent hostess, and to forge bonds and alliances with anybody and everybody so that she might ensure a prosperous future for Fódlan.
Much like a dam bursting from holding back too much water, once she had agreed to one dance Byleth was asked again and again by anybody who had gathered the courage to seek her out. Noblemen and women alike asked her for dances, some even insisting on the faster social dances which left her gasping for air, more so from the pain caused by the excessive movement, though she was doing her damnedest to keep her discomfort to herself.
Before the ball could even begin to wind down, Byleth was finding herself aching and tired. She had been lucky enough to find all of her former students, now friends, amongst the bustling crowd, and catch up with them, even if only for a brief moment, before she’d inevitably be whisked away by yet another dance request.
There was a noticeable lull in the crowd as people began to take short breaks from dancing to enjoy the food and drink. Noticing her chance to sneak off to get some air, Byleth silently slipped out of the grand hall, breathing in the crispness of the fresh air, smiling as her skin cooled down, no longer surrounded by hundreds of other bodies moving vigorously as they danced about the room.
As if on instinct, her feet began making their way further and further away from the ball, the sound slowly becoming something akin to a faint memory as it drifted behind her. Her feet took her through the cathedral, and up the Goddess Tower steps.
Once at the top of the steps, Byleth stopped on the landing to look out at the entirety of the monastery, letting out a deep sigh as she took a moment for herself. Though the moment didn’t last long as on instinct her body whipped around, and she threw the daggers she had hidden on her at all times. The sound of metal clanked against each other rang out in the tower as they were blocked by another dagger.
“Woah! It’s just me, Byleth!”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the man she’d been longing to see for months now. Here he was, standing at the top of the stairs, the goofy grin on his face softening once he met her gaze. Without thinking, Byleth ran to him, wrapping her arms around his torso, and buried her face into his cravat. As if a weight had been lifted off her back, her shoulders relaxed as she smelled his familiar cologne.
Claude quickly returned her embrace, holding her as close to him as he could, as if afraid she might slip between his fingers. One arm wrapped itself firmly around her middle while the other gently buried it’s fingers into her hair as he held her close.
He leaned down so he could whisper into her ear, “I missed you too, starlight.”
Byleth carefully moved his hand out of her hair, and looked up at him with a fierce look in her eyes. However, before he could ask her what was wrong, she quickly leaned up, and kissed his lips, removing her arms from around him, so she could rest them on his cheeks to hold him in place as she did so. Claude quickly returned the kiss, closing his eyes in an attempt to better savor the moment.
The kiss didn’t last long as soon after Byleth was pulling away with a pout on her face, “You’re not allowed to leave my side ever again!”
“I don’t plan on it.”