Chapter Text
Byleth Eisner was never quite sure what people meant when they said their heart skipped a beat; lacking one will do that to you, as it turns out. What she has in lieu of a heart is a crest; a stone that has never once made its existence known. Therefore the sudden indescribable feeling that pierces her chest as she locks eyes with a red headed stranger comes as a shock to say the least.
“Byleth? Are you even listening to me?” an exasperated voice says, pulling her out of her head. The voice belongs to Jeralt Eisner, known lovingly to Byleth as “dad”. The two have just arrived at Garreg Mach, where her father has been summoned to serve as security in anticipation of Garreg Mach’s Foundation Celebration. Ever a man of mystery, Byleth was not even aware her father had any connection with the Church of Seiros.
“Sorry. I’ve just never seen anything like this before.” she says quietly. She knows that this will make Jeralt feel guilty and as underhanded as it is, she much prefers that over explaining why she wasn’t paying attention. As expected, the ploy works and Jeralt lets out a deep sigh.
“Why don’t we introduce you to everyone?” he says awkwardly, leading Byleth up the stairs to the monastery. She is not sure who ‘everyone’ is but she hopes it includes the redheaded stranger.
Sylvain Gauiter falls in love at least 12 times a day (if you use the phrase “falling in love” very loosely, that is). He has romanced at least half the female population at the monastery and is familiar with nearly every woman in the Officer’s Academy. Thus, the appearance of a blue haired woman Sylvain has never seen before piques his interest immediately.
“Absolutely not.” an annoyed voice says as the unknown woman breaks eye contact with him.
“I haven’t even done anything!” Sylvain says, exasperated. He turns around to face future king and lifelong best friend, Dimitri Blaiddyd.
“But you’re planning to, aren’t you?” the prince sighs, rubbing his forehead in frustration. The redhead shoots him a cocky grin.
“What makes her off limits?” he asks.
“That’s the Blade Breaker’s daughter.”
“And is that supposed to mean something to me?” Sylvain responds, causing Dimitri to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Do you truly not pay attention to anything in class? He used to be the most well known knight in Lady Rhea’s service and now he’s a renowned mercenary . She’s also a mercenary, an excellent one, at that; they call her the Ashen Demon. So, if you value your life, do not mess with that girl.” the prince replies, the frustration in his voice palpable. Smiling, Sylvain pats Dimitri on the shoulder.
“Now I only want her more.” he says, a lovesick smile on his face.
As she strolls through the halls of Garreg Mach Cathedral, Byleth wonders why her father never mentioned this part of his life to her. They’d been here not even an hour and at least a dozen people had come to marvel at Jeralt’s return. She has a million different questions she wishes to ask her father but the nervous look on his face implies that now is not the time. No matter, she is happy enough to finally meet people that aren’t a part of her father’s band of mercenaries. From what Byleth can gather, Gareg Mach also serves as a military training academy with students ranging from commoners to straight up royalty. She feels an emotion she has not felt often pang through her when she thinks of all the students at the academy. Was it perhaps jealousy? Sadness in not having that sort of childhood? No, that’s silly. Byleth would not change her life for all the money in the world. And yet…
“Jeralt, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” a woman says, gaining Byleth’s attention. There are no words to describe this woman other than ethereal. Her silky, long hair is the color of sea foam and is adorned with an intricate golden headdress. Flowers frame her perfectly symmetrical face and her skin is as smooth as porcelain. Byleth has never seen such a beautiful person before.
“It has been a long time, hasn’t it?” Jeralt says. Others may not be able to notice, but Byleth can tell that her father is on edge. She wants to ask him what has him so nervous but the goddess-like woman before her asks her a question.
“I heard that you are Jeralt’s daughter, is that right?” she says, brilliant green eyes fixed on hers.
“That is right. My name is Byleth.” she says politely. The woman continues to study her face and Byleth feels her cheeks starting to prickle. Jeralt clears his throat and steps closer to Byleth, as if he is afraid that she will be snatched from him at any moment.
“Byleth, this is the Archbishop of the Church of Serios, Lady Rhea.” the mercenary says quickly. Byleth gives her a polite smile and a small bow, unsure of what one is supposed to do in front of the head of a major religion.
“Pardon me, my child, but it has been nearly 20 years since I’ve last spoken to your father and we have much to discuss. Why don’t you go to your quarters and get ready for the celebration?” Lady Rhea says. She poses it as a suggestion but the intent is clear; leave. Byleth looks to her father for approval and he gives her a reluctant nod.
“I’ll see you later tonight, kid.” he says softly. She is anxious at the thought of being left alone in this strange place but it seems she has no choice but to simply nod and watch as the two walk off.
“Heeelloo Ingrid, my best friend for life, how are you doing this fine day?”
“Let me guess: you saw me with that knight’s daughter and now you want me to tell you everything I know about her.” the blonde knight in training says with a sigh. Crossing her arms across her chest, she stares up at Sylvain who is wearing a mischievous grin.
“You know me so well.” the redhead replies.
“It isn’t terribly difficult to read someone so shallow.” she replies cooly, walking away. Sylvain frowns and jogs to catch up with her.
“You wound me, truly.” he says, following Ingrid into their classroom.
“Good, maybe it’ll knock some sense into you.”
“C’mon, it’s different this time, I think she’s my soul mate.” Sylvain replies wistfully, to which Ingrid rolls her eyes.
“How many times have I heard that one before?” she mutters, opening up her Military Tactics textbook. Sylvain narrows his eyes at Ingrid and closes the book, causing the normally well composed woman to snap.
“Look, even if I wanted to tell you anything about her- and let me make this crystal clear, I don’t- I couldn’t. She didn’t say anything. She said maybe two words in the entire time it took me to bring her to her room.” Ingrid shouts, slamming her hands against the table. Sylvain takes a moment to ponder this before leaning against the table and clasping his hands together.
“So she’s mysterious, huh? I think I’m in love.” he finally replies. Ingrid nearly slams her head against the book she’s reopened.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Growing up as a mercenary with a single father means that Byleth has never had the need for fancy clothing. This makes the task of preparing for the festivities more daunting than it needs to be. She had acquired a dress on their way to the monastery in anticipation for the event but considering fashion is not something she grew up with, Byleth is not sure whether the dress will look nice to others. She has spent an ungodly amount of time pacing around the room thinking about what other people will think before sighing and accepting that at the very least, she likes the dress.
The celebration is about to begin and Byleth has spent the last hour preparing. Her ordinarily messy, blue hair has been cleaned and pinned into a more elaborate hairstyle than she is used to. Her face is bare, save for the tiniest amount of blush she has applied to her cheeks and lips to look livelier than usual. The dress she picked up thankfully fits her perfectly and drapes across her body as if it was tailored specifically for her. Looking in the mirror, she doesn’t think she’s ever looked this pretty in her life; the thought alone makes her blush. A knock at the door interrupts her thoughts and she quickly rushes to answer it, flustered at the idea of someone seeing her admire her own reflection.
“Byleth, the celebration is about to begin, it’s time to-” Jeralt stops when he lays eyes on Byleth, eyebrows raised quizzically.
“Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?” he says.
“And here I thought I looked nice.” Byleth replies, rolling her eyes. Jeralt’s face softens.
“You look beautiful, just like your mother.” he says earnestly. Byleth doesn’t know what her mother looked like but judging by the way her father always speaks of her with reverence she knows that it is a compliment of the highest order.
“Let’s get going, kiddo.” he says, offering his arm. Without hesitation, Byleth links arms with her father, excited to greet a world she has never met before.
Sylvain is uncharacteristically quiet, a fact which has not gone unnoticed by Felix Fraldarius.
“What is going on with you? I haven’t seen you this quiet since I knocked your teeth out when we were kids.” Felix says, causing Sylvain to nearly jump out of his skin.
“You really need to stop sneaking up on people.” the redhead replies, clutching his chest.
“You need better spatial awareness; I’ve been standing here for five minutes.” the raven haired man replies, rolling his eyes.
“I’m on an important mission.” Sylvain replies, adjusting his dress jacket. Felix groans, already aware of where this is going.
“Who’s the unlucky lady this time?” the younger Fraldarius asks.
“The Blade Breaker’s daughter.”
“You’re out of your mind.” Felix scoffs, incredulous.
“I’m in love.” Sylvain instantly replies. Felix groans again and smacks his hand against his head, unsure how or why Sylvain has ended up being his best friend.
“That’s the fifth time this week you’ve said this.”
“It’s different this time!”
“It always is.” Felix sighs. “Do you even know her name?”
“We’re not on a first name basis yet.” Sylvain replies evasively. Felix laughs as his friend scans the room for the apparent love of his life.
“Personally, I can’t wait to see her reject you so I’ll help you out just this once; it’s Byleth.”
Byleth has never seen this many people before, not in a non-combat setting at least. Everyone looks so effortlessly graceful and beautiful that the young mercenary is beginning to feel out of place. She has spent the entire celebration so far glued to her father’s side, unsure of what else to do or where else to go. Even if she did know what to do, the sheer volume of people alone was enough to make Byleth want to retreat back to her room. Perhaps she can now cross parties off of her list of things she longed to do.
“You alright, kid?” Jeralt leans over and whispers. For a moment, Byleth is embarrassed he even noticed her discomfort.
“This is just a lot.” she replies honestly, letting out a long breath.
“I know, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have just dropped you in the middle of this.” he replies, grimacing. A twinge of guilt stirs in Byleth’s chest and she quickly shakes her head.
“No, it’s alright, dad. I’m kind of starting to see why you kept all this from me.” she replies, muttering the last part. The older mercenary chuckles in response and squeezes Byleth’s shoulder.
“Why don’t you go outside and get some air? I’ll be in here waiting for you.” Jeralt says gently.
“Will you be alright on your own?” Byleth responds, motioning toward the group of knights who were anxiously waiting for Jeralt’s return.
“Somehow, I’ll manage.” he replies, a warm smile on his face. She is not completely sold but the overwhelming energy in the room makes the choice clear to Byleth; outside it is. She pulls the hem of her dress up, not yet used to the limited mobility a long gown offers. The several glasses of wine she’d had earlier make the speed walk a bit more precarious than usual but after nearly tripping over the layers of her dress, Byleth finally makes it outside to the courtyard where she is greeted by the sound of silence.
The monastery’s courtyard is empty, save for the occasional cat lazily walking about. The gardens are well maintained, illuminated by the dozens of stars in the night sky. The air is cool and chilly but not enough to make Byleth uncomfortable. In short, this is much preferable to the reception hall by far. She lets out a sigh of relief, closes her eyes and leans against the wall. It’s been an overwhelming night and she can’t wait to crawl into bed and take a long rest.
“Mind if I join you?” a voice calls out. This unexpected voice startles Byleth, causing her to instinctively reach for the dagger she usually keeps at her hip. She quickly realizes that it’s not there and begins to panic before looking up at the person who jolted her from her thoughts.
As it turns out, it’s the redheaded stranger from this morning. For some reason, this comforts Byleth and she relaxes her hands and closes her eyes in relief.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” he says, slowly approaching.
“It’s alright. I should have expected other people would be out here.” she replies, sighing.
“Ah, should I leave then?” the stranger asks.
“No! Um, I mean, no that’s not necessary.” Byleth replies, perhaps a bit too quickly. The stranger smiles and nods and the young mercenary takes a moment to observe him.
He is much taller than her, standing probably around a head taller than Byleth. He has vibrant red hair that somehow looks stylish despite being objectively unkempt. His hazel eyes are full of warmth and complement the rather sharp bone structure he has. His dress coat fits his wide shoulders perfectly and the gold sash around his waist accentuates his trim figure. It seems this monastery is simply full of beautiful people.
“It’s Byleth, right?” he asks, causing the mercenary to shift her eyebrows suspiciously. “Word gets around quickly here.” he explains quickly.
“Ah. Right.” she replies. She was not even aware the people here noticed her existence.
“I’m Sylvain. It’s wonderful to meet you.” the redhead says, extending his hand. Byleth stares at it quizzically before slowly extending her own hand and making contact with his. The two stand in silence for what feels like an eternity before Sylvain interjects.
“It's a bit stuffy in there, isn’t it?” Byleth laughs at this.
“That’s an understatement.” she mutters. She doesn’t intend for Sylvain to hear this but he does and lets out a chuckle.
“Sorry, that’s not very nice of me.” Byleth says quickly, staring down at her feet.
“Nah, I feel the same way. Too many nobles too eager to pat their own backs in there.” Sylvain says, staring up at the sky.
“Is that why you’re out here?” Byleth asks, looking up at the night sky as well.
“I could lie and say yes but honestly, I was just looking for an excuse to talk to you.” Sylvain admits, much to the mercenary’s surprise.
“You wanted to talk to me ?” she replies, incredulous.
“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?” he asks earnestly. She shrugs, unsure how to answer that particular question.
“I don’t know, I mean, there’s definitely more important people in there to talk to than me.” Byleth admits, shrugging her shoulders.
“They’re all knobs.” Sylvain replies back, scoffing. The blue haired woman has to restrain herself from laughing.
“And how do you know I’m not a knob?” she asks.
“I can just tell.” he admits, a smile forming on his face.
“Maybe I’m just good at pretending. For all you know I could be queen of the knobs.” she muses, eliciting a chuckle from Sylvain.
“Considering you’re not sucking up to everyone in there, I’m gonna go with my gut on this one.” the redhead says, the smile on his face growing larger. The silence between them returns but this time it is more comfortable.
“Has anyone shown you around the monastery yet?” Sylvain asks suddenly. Byleth thinks for a moment but eventually concludes that briefly passing through the halls on the way to her room is not exactly a grand tour and shakes her head.
“Well, how would you like a tour of the place, courtesy of yours truly?” the redhead asks, extending his hand. Byleth thinks for a moment about her father waiting inside for her. She feels bad leaving him on his own but glancing at Sylvain’s warm eyes makes the young mercenary realize she’s ready to see the world Jeralt had shielded her from.
“I’d love that.” she replies, grasping his hand.
“...And this right here is where my best friend knocked out my front teeth.” Sylvain says, leading Byleth to a sparring room east of the reception hall. For the past half an hour Sylvain has been showing Byleth random corners of the monastery, interjected with personal stories of his life at the academy. She has not spoken to many people before but she finds Sylvain incredibly easy to talk to. Words spill out of her without the usual accompaniment of anxiety and she finds herself entertained by every little thing he does ; he is comfortable to Byleth.
“You must have looked so cute.” Byleth said between laughter.
“Excuse you m'lady but I take offense to your use of past tense; I still am very cute.” Sylvain replies, a goofy grin on his face.
“Can’t argue with that.” the young mercenary admits, causing Sylvain’s smile to grow wider.
“What’s that building over there, by the Cathedral?” Byleth asks as the two walk side by side.
“What, the Goddess Tower?”
“I guess so. It looks so pretty.” Byleth says shrugging. She is not sure why, but for some reason she feels drawn to it. They continue to walk in silence for a few moments before Sylvain suddenly halts, causing Byleth to turn around in confusion.
“It’s a bit of a walk but we could go see it, if you’d like.” he says softly. Ordinarily, Byleth would be on guard, especially around a man she’d just met asking her if she wants to go to an empty building alone with him but it’s different with Sylvain. With him, she feels safe. What an odd thought to have, she muses.
“That would be lovely.” Byleth replies, an excited smile on her face. Pleased with her answer, Sylvain grabs her by the hand and leads her in the direction of the tower. The walk there is marked by comfortable silence, Sylvain occasionally looking back at Byleth to give her a comforting smile. After a short walk over the bridge and past the Cathedral, the two arrive at the tower and Byleth finds herself awestruck.
“Wow.” she mutters as the two enter the tower.
“I had the same reaction when I first came here.” Sylvain admits as Byleth’s hand tightens around his.
“I’ve never heard of this Sieros before but she certainly has lovely taste.” Byleth says, wandering around in amazement.
“Y’know, you’re a pretty strange woman.” Sylvain laughs.
“Thank you ever so much.” Byleth replies sarcastically, feigning hurt.
“Strange in the best kind of way.” Sylvain replies softly, inching closer to Byleth.
“I could say the same for you.” she responds. The sound of the orchestra playing in the reception hall can be heard faintly in the background and Byleth finds herself swaying to music she has never heard before.
“Do you like the music?” Sylvain asks. The mercenary nods.
“I’ve never heard an orchestra before, it’s… softer sounding than I expected.” Byleth replies. A thought seems to form in Sylvain’s head and he suddenly bows slightly and extends his hand.
“Would you care to dance?” he asks, smiling. Byleth returns the smile but is unsure of what to say. Ballroom dancing wasn’t exactly something she’d ever learned when training as a mercenary and she is afraid of looking stupid in front of Sylvain.
“I’ve never really danced before.” she finally admits, sheepishly. The redhead’s mouth gapes open and he shakes his head before laughing.
“Well, lucky for you I’m an excellent teacher.” he replies, hand still extended. Byleth glances up at his eyes and feels she could stay here forever.
“By all means, lead the way.” she replies, taking hold of his hand. He gently pulls her closer and begins to slowly sway back and forth. It is not something she is used to but surprisingly, the movements come naturally to Byleth and before she knows it she’s matched with Sylvain’s pace.
“You’re a quick learner.” Sylvain notes as the two grow closer.
“You kind of have to be in my line of work.” she shrugs.
“Ah right, the whole mercenary thing.” he says, causing Byleth to grin. They continue swaying in relative silence before Sylvain speaks up again.
“Do you enjoy it?” he asks. This question stumps Byleth as it is something she has never really thought about before. For her, it is simply all she has known. The lack of choice makes whether she truly enjoys her life’s work less clear.
“I don’t know, to be honest. I didn’t really have much of a say about it.” she finally admits.
“I know how that feels, I didn’t really have much of a choice in coming here either.” Sylvain replies, to Byleth’s surprise.
“You were forced to come here?” she asks.
“Any heir of House Gautier is forced to come here.” he shrugs. Byleth does not know why but she is still surprised to find out that Sylvain is a noble. The sudden silence between the two probably tips off her dance partner and he clears his throat.
“I forgot to mention that I’m a noble, didn’t I?”
“Seems that way.”
“Sorry, it’s just normally people already know that about me. Actually, it’s usually the only reason why people talk to me.” Sylvain says, a hint of bitterness in his voice.
“People really do that?” Byleth asks. Her dance partner chuckles and nods his head. She has never been interested in the intricacies of nobility and cannot fathom why anyone would want to befriend someone based purely on their bloodline.
“You really are pretty odd. Anyway, it’s nice being with someone who doesn’t want me just for my status.” he admits, twirling Byleth to the sound of violins in the distance.
“Are you implying I want you, my Lord?” the mercenary responds, a sly smile on her face.
“Do you not?” Sylvain responds, pulling Byleth closer to him. She has never been with another person before but her body moves as if it is second nature. She stands on her toes, inching closer to the noble’s face and feels that strange piercing sensation she felt when she first laid eyes on him. Sylvain leans in closer, his hands firmly wrapped around Byleth’s waist.
It is at that moment, a bright flash of light pierces through the stained glass windows, followed by an earth shattering boom. Instinctively, Byleth pushes Sylvain away and searches for the source of the explosion. She sees smoke pouring out of the main hall she was in earlier and feels her blood run cold.
“My father.” she murmurs. Without missing a beat, Byleth gathers her skirts and begins running out of the tower.
“Byleth, wait!” he calls out, chasing after her. His words fall on deaf ears. The young mercenary can only think of her father and making sure he is alright. She runs across the bridge of the cathedral, ignoring the dirt and tears gathering on the hem of her gown. She watches as people pour out of the building and screams echo throughout the courtyard. Upon reaching the reception hall, Byleth calls out her father’s name in desparation.
“Byleth? Is that you?” she hears a voice say. She sprints over to the source of the voice and finds her father assisting a wounded Lady Rhea. Relief washes over her like waves and she lets out a long exhale. Her father is safe.
“I’m sorry, I should have been here.” she says quickly, running up to her father. He waves her comment off with a flick of his hand.
“What difference would that have made, kid?” he says, guiding Lady Rhea in Byleth’s direction.
“Help me get the Archbishop out of here, will you?” he adds. The young mercenary nods and begins to make her way over to the two of them when a cloaked figure appears. Wordlessly, the person in the cloak pulls a dagger out and approaches Lady Rhea and Jeralt.
“Regards from the Empire.” a low voice says. Noticing the glint of metal in the corner of her eye, Byleth screams and things seem to unfold in slow motion. Jeralt also notices the dagger and shoots his daughter an apologetic look as he throws himself in front of the Archbishop. Byleth is already running toward the trio, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She curses herself for not having her dagger and begins to conjure what little black magic she knows. Just as the young mercenary reaches her destination, so too does the dagger; it pierces through Jeralt’s chest and Lady Rhea screams. Byleth blasts the cloaked figure with a ball of dark energy and they fade into the dark, as if they were never even there to begin with. Groaning, Jeralt falls to the ground and Byleth rushes to his aid.
“It looks like I’m going to have to leave you, kid.” Jeralt manages to say in between coughing up bits of blood.
“No, no no no. I can help you, it’s going to be fine.” Byleth says, stumbling over her words. She presses her trembling hands to the wound but finds more blood than she ever hoped to see. She panics, trying to remember any of the white magic she’d learned but the tears clouding her eyes make it hard for her to concentrate. She tears off a piece of her gown and attempts to cover the wound but Jeralt grabs her hand.
“I’ve never seen you cry before. It’s sad, but I’m happy the tears are for me.” Jeralt practically whispers, the life fading from his eyes. His hands tighten around Byleth and she lets out a loud sob.
“I’m sorry, I should have been here. I shouldn’t have left you.” she chokes out, gripping her hand. She doesn’t want her dad to leave her, he is all she has ever known.
“No…don’t…don’t say that. You get to live. That’s all that matters to me. It’s all that’s ever mattered to me.” he replies, closing his eyes. His chest stops rising and Byleth continues to sob. Lady Rhea reaches out to touch her but she immediately smacks her hand away.
“Leave us!” she screams, nearly feral.
“My child, he’s gone.” the Archbishop says gently.
“And whose fault is that?” Byleth spits back venomously. Lady Rhea does not respond.
“Dad, it’s ok, wake up!” the young mercenary says in desperation. She throws herself over her father’s body and lets out an agonizing sob. The foundation of her life has crumbled; Jeralt Eisner is dead.