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He was gone. Jeralt, his father - died in his arms.
Jeralt Eisner was gone from this world, with not but his son to stand on in his memory. The same son who stood motionless over the shared grave of his father and mother. He said no words, for the heavens spoke in his stead. Dorothea watched from beside the tree with a frown on her lips. The soft rumbles above didn’t faze her, not as she watched forlornly over her despondent teacher, friend, comrade...and lover.
The last part is what made this sting more than anything else could. She felt his ache in her own heart. His usually calm visage was contorted in ways she didn’t think was even possible. It made her realize just how little she truly knew of him outside of what he let out.
And that scared her.
The student slipped behind the tree as doubt swirled in her head. She was so certain - so readily and blatantly certain of what she felt. That night on her birthday when they lay aslumber, or even the time earlier this very month as they danced in celebration of her victory. All times that she felt the words well from her heart and get pinned in her throat. Only to pass her lips when he couldn’t hear her.
But no more- not today, nor tomorrow, nor ever again. Right now, what he needed most wasn’t a student, or a comrade, or even just a bedmate. He needed a voice to sing away his sorrow, and an ear to listen to his muted woes. He needed a hand to squeeze, and a heart to open to. He needed someone to stand beside him at his parents' grave.
He needed her.
Dorothea took a deep breath and shuffled out from behind the tree. She saw his hunched back while he looked down over the well-kept tombstone that had housed his mother all these years. Her body, now at true peace alongside the man she loved. A fate that would befall the lucky few who could find such happiness.Such sadness. Such peace.
Byleth said nothing as heard her steps behind him. The soft crunch of grass alerted him to her presence, yet he didn’t turn to greet her. He merely slipped whatever he had into his pockets as she stood behind him. “Professor,” she softly called.
He stood in silence. Her heart ached, yet still, she pushed on. “I have… I’ve sung lyrics lamenting death many times on stage… But when something like this happens...I’m lost,” she admitted.
Her gaze, once unsure, grew determined and full of resolve. “But I do know this much- Sir Jeralt must have been very proud to have you as his child.”
A smile -that is what greeted her. A thin, small curl of the lips resonated with her and sent her reeling. The diva took a deep breath as she made ready to re-enter the stage of tragedy that stood before her. Whatever words she thought she had were cast aside as the script was left to rot. “I’ve seen him at this grave before. And you, as well,” she noted.
Dorothea stepped forward and past her professor. He raised no hand against her as she gently touched the stone before them. The names lingered in her eyes as she caressed the cold rock with as much tender love as a mother would her newborn babe. “This is her, isn’t it? Your mother.”
He said nothing, but it hardly mattered. Not when she felt him in her own heart. And from that heart came forth her own emotions as her bitter past once more passed her lips. “I scarcely remember my mother, but I know that what she felt for me was love. I must suspect that your mother felt the same of you, even if your time together was so brief.”
Brrrrm
The light rumble of thunder passed them overhead. A soft, mournful gale blew across the quiet graveyard and down off the cliffs that Garreg Mach had long claimed. The silent grounds of the Monostrary felt like they were worlds away from the mournful teacher and his sorrowful student. It was just them - in this pocket detached from time and space.
Dorothea breathed deep as she turned back to face him. Her feet took her closer until she was before Byleth. As close as anyone could be without the veneer of camaraderie being shattered. It was a threshold she’d crossed many a time with him and would do so happily. But now - now that she sought something more than just skin and sin, it felt like a barrier impenetrable. “Professor...what I mean to say is that..”
Byleth looked at her with a gaze so weary and weathered. What tears he’d shed had long since dried. Yet the stains that remained on his cheeks went deeper than mere skin would suggest. Slowly, she reached up and crossed that boundary to stroke his dry cheek. “Professor,” she tried again.
A cold sting on her hand came down as the heaven’s tears fell upon the earth. Dorothea said nothing while she gazed deep into his eyes. Slowly, almost nervously, he reached forward and pulled her into a tight embrace.
Dorothea said nothing as she returned his hug with her own. The boundary between them was broken just as the skies themselves opened up. Drops of rain struck against the tree, grass, and stones of the graveyard while the duo remained locked together. It could’ve been but a moment, or an entire lifetime. Either would’ve been enough for her.
If only she weren’t so selfish.
Byleth felt his student pull away and it ached at his heart. But one look at the anxiety in her eyes gave him pause. He resisted the urge to confront her and her demons as she sought the courage to stand on her stage alone. A stage built of tragedy and fortune made hard and cold in the pursuit of luxury. A stage that she now sought to cast to fire, if only to make room for one more. “Professor I…”
This was it - the moment she’d feared and hoped for ever since that sorrowful song had yearned at her heart. The same song she feigned surprise over on opening the gift proper, and which now resonated in her ear and heart every night. If she couldn’t say these words now when the world at least seemed to grant her favor...would she ever get to say them again?
“Dorothea?” he asked her, finally.
“Prof...no, Byleth - I love you.”
That was it - without choke, without waver, without regret. Byleth blinked at her declaration, even as his student stepped forward to take him in her arms, and lips while the rain poured down around them.
Kra-kooooom
A bolt of lightning arched over the horizon, yet neither he nor she paid it any heed. Their focus, their world - was each other. Never once had he shown her favor in her texts, and never once had she tried to hold sway over him. What they’d had before had gone merely to the skin. And now, it came from the heart.
Dorothea pulled back and once more touched his cheek. Her other hand remained against his shoulder and over his nape as she looked up to him. “I...I know you’re hurting now, and I just want you to know that I’m ready to wait. I’ll wait for you as long as it takes to heal this hurt in your heart
“And...well, maybe I can be that salve as well,” she mused as she gently stroked his breast. She let her words linger as she left him with but a peck on a lips and a strong declaration that still echoed in his ears and across time.
“Professor…”
…
“...sor?”
“Professor!”
Byleth snapped out of his musings as his eyes darted around. The warm lights of the imperial palace greeted him, along with the medical ward filled to the brim with the most revered and respected figures in all the lands.
“Ah, Professor! You’ve come back to us at last,” Ferdinand von Aiger sighed in relief. The assembled behind him nodded as he took in everyone that surrounded them.
He knew them all, by name and by heart. Students that had started with the Eagles, or had come under his wing. Even those that had once stood against him until he offered a hand of mercy looked on in concern. Even in the gaps that were left, he could swear he felt more eyes that had gathered.
“Are you being...Ah, are you well, Professor?” Petra asked him.
“It would seem he was caught up in slumber. Perhaps making up for lost time,” Linhardt mused. “Ah, but it must’ve been nice.”
“You looked so peaceful, professor - sorry to bother you,” Bernadetta apologized with a sheepish smile.
“Surely his dreams couldn’t keep him in such tight slumber! How could any sleep through such a glorious day? I - Constance of House Nuvelle, will not allow it!” the blonde woman scoffed and fanned herself.
“There is nothing wrong with rest...we cannot always force ourselves into the bloody fray,” a stiff blonde man mused.
“I...I am fine,” Byleth finally admitted with a small, grateful smile. He rose from his chair and passed his students for a nearby open window. The fresh, clean air of an Enbarr in peace filled his lungs and made his heart beat clear. It made the wait just a little less agonizing.
Just a little.
“Um, Professor?” Manuela’s voice called to him. He turned to the former songstress as she gently stepped out of the ward. Beside her were the others who had taken to the healing faith of white magic. “She’s waiting for you. Just don’t be long,” Manuela urged.
He nodded and stepped forward. The sea of faces parted as well wishes and congratulations filled his ears. A few consolation pats and even a light punch from a certain overly-enthusiastic general passed like water over him. He paused only long enough to accept the bow of the distinguished retainer and lock eyes with the serene face of the Emperor, who nodded and smiled at him before she let him pass.
“There you are,” Dorothea hummed as he stepped into the ward. His footfalls felt so heavy even as he walked with grace that would astonish Petra. “Shhh, not so loud. You’ll wake him,” she teased her husband while he sat next to her on the bed.
Byleth carried no mind of japes while he looked at his wife and the swaddle of cloth in her arms. Already he could hear the soft coos that echoed within. Coos that made his heart beat faster while he waited with bated breath. Dorothea smiled at her husband before she shifted the cloth aside and exposed the little babe that slumbered within.
“He has your eyes, you know,” she told him while she rocked the boy in his slumber. Byleth felt the words clog in his throat while he hesitantly reached forward. Dorothea softly giggled as she lifted the babe towards him. “Don’t be nervous - here. You had a part in this after all,” she winked.
Her little joke at least cracked a smile on her husband’s face. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead while she settled back to rest. Her part in this was done, at least for now, and she could take solace and watch as the love of her life held the most priceless gift she could give him.
Though truly he had a part, and it was a part he played well. Perhaps he’d be ready to play it again. But for now, such thoughts were not on their mind. Not as Byleth picked up the newborn boy and held him close as he could, beside his wife. A silent breeze passed into the room and caressed the family as if yet more stood beside them.
Jeralt, his son - slept peacefully in his arms.