Chapter Text
A moon and a week had passed.
Byleth put the key into the lock of the side room in the infirmary and listened for the soft click. With quiet steps she ducked inside, closing and leaning against the door with a long sigh. She was covered in dirt, sore, and tired from the last fight she and the army had just returned from.
Fort Merceus was decimated, not at all what she had expected to happen. The last week was full of surprises, though nothing as frightening as the javelins of light that burst through the sky to lay waste to the fortress below it. Byleth still felt like she was reeling from the shock of it all.
She opened her eyes, adjusting to the dying light of the late afternoon sun. First, she went to the window to open one side of the curtain fully. The light shifted and stretched longer, brightening the room around her. Eyes traveled across to the bed and the person who occupied it.
Seteth lay undisturbed, eyes closed, chest rising and falling. Byleth shuffled over to him, sitting on the edge near his knee. She let her hand rest over his heart, the gentle thumping giving her a small amount of hope each time she visited him. “Seteth,” she whispered, and held her breath.
As if he would wake and answer her call. Exhaling the air from her lungs, she bent her head forward, the small hope that he would open his eyes at the call of his name evaporating from her mind yet again, like each time she tried before. He was asleep.
He would stay asleep for who knew how long. Not even Flayn had a direct answer to that, only a timeline of her own centuries of rest.
Byleth’s fingers curled into Seteth’s sleeping shirt. Flayn slept for almost a thousand years. That in and of itself was as shocking as any of the other bits and facts of her life she shared. Centuries could possibly pass before a person could wake from this healing slumber. Were Seteth’s own injuries so severe that Byleth would live and die just waiting? And if it were only decades, would she be elderly when he woke? Near her own demise?
Her chest constricted at the thought. To confess, to lay waste their feelings to each other before being taken, not in death but slumber, felt like too much for her to handle. It left a deep ache in her bones, like at any moment she would succumb to an impossible grief. Byleth often had to take a minute to breathe in and out to clear herself of that pain. Though, even after those dark thoughts managed to leave, she always longed for the day she would be able to hold him and kiss him and live her life with him. Even if it were only for a year or one day.
There was always the fear that it would never come. She looked up to his face, frowning at the way he looked so much younger and peaceful in sleep, in contrast to the memory of him bleeding and hearing his labored breath and his declaration for her.
Love was a feeling she did not have much experience in. Byleth knew she loved her students, she could say confidently now, and loved Jeralt, even if she never said the words to him outloud. Between her and her father were gestures: small flowers, having each other’s back in a fight, a quiet dinner away from the loudness of other mercenaries. Her love for her father was unspoken, silent.
Byleth’s love for Seteth was like an ocean, deep and unknown and dark. The chill of her feelings for him hit her like waves every time she saw him like this, and then the sadness came when she thought that maybe she sunk too far down. Maybe the thoughts of her dying before he woke would meet and keep her there.
When would she be able to express herself to him once more? Will she ever get to see his reaction again when she said the words aloud?
Everything unspoken between them could be lost in her eventual old age and death. Seteth slept peacefully and wouldn’t ever know. Would he wake up and mourn? Was his love whispered just before something for him to say to ease her through his death?
Were his words untrue?
These thoughts never failed to bring on a wave of anxiety and tears, but she pushed them back today. Byleth reminded herself that Seteth couldn’t be that way.
At least she didn’t think he would be.
She wiped at her eyes, then moved up the bed to lower her head to his. She could at least promise him one thing. “I will keep watch, and only pray that we’ll have even a small amount of time together. To talk everything out.” She sniffled as she rose, holding in the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.
When visiting Seteth like this, Byleth had a duty to fulfill. Manuela had shown her where she kept the best pillows and blankets in the infirmary. Flayn had confided in the monastery’s lead healer along with Byleth, Ferdinand and Dorothea about Seteth’s fate, and Manuela in turn had shown them how best to adjust his body so that he would not receive any bedsores. While all five secret keepers helped and moved Seteth about, Manuela created a rotating schedule so that each could still attend to their other duties about the monastery without suspicion.
For all other allies, the clergy and Knight of Seiros, Seteth had been set out on an undercover mission to find Lady Rhea. No one was the wiser.
So, as Byleth adjusted his pillow, repositioned his body to his side, and propped him up, she told him exactly what happened at the Impregnable Fortress. It kept her a little more sane to keep him updated, though she knew he was unable to hear and respond back to her. “You would not have believed your eyes, Seteth. The light came crashing and destroyed everything on sight.” Byleth pulled Seteth’s arm around to lay near his head, done with his repositioning. She let her fingers linger on his hand. “We rendezvoused on the Bridge of Myrddin. I’m happy to report that everyone lived. Of course everyone lived.” She would use her Pulses to the ends of time if it didn’t allow another one of their allies to end up dead or comatose.
She smoothed a hand over his hair. “And that isn’t even all the surprises. Just as we were packing up to leave we received a message from the Alliance. I thought for sure everyone over there would be recovering as Gronder was only the last moon.” Byleth paused, throat tight. Edelgard was weakened, Dimitri was dead, and Claude disappeared to who knew where.
Who would have guessed five years ago that those three house leaders would all lose something at the hands of each other? Byleth exhaled with a shake of her head. Things could have gone differently if only she hadn’t been missing for so long after her fall.
With a double check to make sure she was satisfied with how he lay, Byleth sat at the edge of the bed once more and continued her report. “The message was from Lorenz. I don’t really understand why but his father has given up his rule, leaving his son to take over as Count Gloucester, leader of what is left of the Alliance. I’m not sure what this means, though he is on his way to Garreg Mach despite what injuries I gave him back at Airmid River. Wasn’t his father working with the Empire? Is this just a visit to complicate our win over Merceus?”
She paused as if waiting for an answer. Seteth lay with a strand of hair stuck to his lips. Byleth cleared it away, fingers grazing over to the tips of his pointed ear. Another shocking reveal from Flayn and now she found herself fascinated with the odd appendage. She pulled her hand back quickly though, feeling guilty for touching him so affectionately when he wasn’t there to respond to it. “How I wish you could be here to talk to me. I guess I never realized how much your words could soothe my worries.”
Byleth pulled the blanket over his shoulder. “Maybe by next week, I’ll have more answers.”
. . .
Lorenz Hellman Gloucester sat across from Byleth. Flanked to her left was Ferdinand and to her right sat Flayn. There was no need to bring everyone into the room when their allies were now preparing for the march on Enbarr.
Lorenz himself had his arm in a sling, Byleth remembering the way she slashed at his shoulder making him fall off his mount. Had Seteth witnessed the way she quickly left him to die he would probably be a little shocked. The ex-mercenary would have never in the past left before making sure her enemy was actually dead or at least incompacitated. Byleth hit Lorenz with her sword, then immediately turned to rejoin the others without a second thought. Maybe Seteth would be a little proud for, even accidentally, showing mercy.
Or perhaps he would have been disappointed that she allowed an enemy to survive. You must remember this is war , she could hear him say to her.
Byleth shook that thought and disgruntled voice out of her mind, glad she hadn’t waited to check if the noble had actually died. “Lorenz, I am sor—”
“Professor,” he held up his good hand, wincing a little from the movement. “This injury is not one you should apologize for. If anything I am grateful it happened at all.” He stopped, brow furrowing. “Though I suppose, it is my turn to apologize. I do not know how to address you? Commander?”
“Professor is fine.” Byleth watched as Lorenz’s frown deepened. “Or, maybe you can just call me Byleth,” she quickly amended.
“That somehow feels…worse.” Lorenz tucked a strand of his bangs behind an ear and away from his eyes. “Very well, professor it is.”
“Count Glocester, if you could please explain why you've come?” Ferdinand spoke up. The violet haired man turned to him. “We must admit to being a little surprised at your message. You must have already been on the way to get here so quickly from the Alliance.”
“What is left of it anyway.” Lorenz sighed and closed his eyes. He opened them again a moment later looking a little ashamed at what he was about to say. “I’ve come to offer you our assistance on your way to the Empire. My defeat at the Airmid River came as a…wake up call, if you will, to not only my father but those lords who sided with the Empire. He has retired his title, leaving me as Count and with the weight of every—well, I can’t exactly say bad—decision he has made in the last half decade.
“While it was a little too late to assist Claude at the unfortunate battle at Gronder, when we figured you would probably march onto Merceus next, I called a meeting and we came to an agreement to lend our aid to you. I hope you will accept it.”
“Please forgive me, Lorenz—um, Count?” Flayn started. Byleth watched as she bit her lip, unsure of how to address the man in front of them.
“If it makes it any easier, Flayn, you may call me Lorenz. We are old friends despite this war.”
Byleth almost snorted at the way Flayn’s smile brightened and how Ferdinand’s hands twitched on the table. She cleared her throat discreetly instead. “Ah, Lorenz then,” Flayn continued, smile dimming just the smallest bit. “Am I to understand that all of the Alliance lords wish to help us in our cause? What of the Empire? What will happen to you if we should fail in our assault on Enbarr?”
“What do we have to lose, do you mean?” Lorenz gave a half smile, mostly a grimace. “Almost everything, but as Claude said to me before I left, it would be best to put all our eggs into the basket that will win. Or whatever he meant by the strange metaphor.”
“Claude?” Byleth’s brow furrowed. “Have you been in contact with him?”
“He rests at my estate. He wishes to give himself another few weeks to recover before he makes it up here to Garreg Mach as well.”
Byleth exchanged surprised glances with her two companions. “We were not sure if he survived Gronder at all,” Ferdinand said aloud. “I am surprised to know his injuries are not all that serious.”
“Yes, well, if it wasn’t for Hilda pulling everyone away at the last second, I don’t think hardly anyone would have made it.”
“ Everyone lived?” Byleth had to admit to being shocked. Without her power, to hear a whole class survive against the Kingdom and Empire at the same time was almost unbelievable.
“Lived, yes.” Lorenz rested a hand to his elbow, adjusting his sling to his shoulder. It was as if he was warning them of what he was about to say. “Able to pick up a weapon or fight another battle? For most, no, myself included. I’m afraid my old classmates have seen better days.”
It was relief enough, though, and Byleth felt herself holding back tears. “You know, I think the old Blue Lions fared even better than the Golden Deer,” he continued.
Byleth took in a breath. “Though not Dimitri,” she murmured. The image of the young and eager prince came to mind, and while she did not lead his house Byleth would often instruct the young man whenever he had asked her to. It brought a sad pang to her still heart that things had not gone differently, that this war could take so many people away.
On top of thinking about those lost from the Blue Lions, she thought about the time they went to Ailell and how she let Ashe escape that fiery fight. She often wondered if he went back to the Empire, but hadn’t seen him in any battle since.
“No.” Lorenz matched her expression. “I suppose not everyone left that place alive.”
There was silence, a moment to grieve over lost friends and classmates. Byleth shut her eyes until she saw stars, hands clenched underneath the table they sat at. She breathed in deeply, then opened her eyes to adjust to the room again.
“It gives me an idea.” All three heads turned to Ferdinand who sat with his chin in his hand. “If the lords and heirs of the Great Houses of Faerghus and the Alliance live, it may do well to call them to Garreg Mach.”
“We leave for the Empire in less than two weeks' time,” Byleth said, wondering just what Ferdinand was getting at. “It will be too late for them to prepare and go with us to fight Edelgard.”
“Yes, that is true, but I believe we’ll win against her even without their help.” Ferdinand turned to Byleth and Flayn eagerly awaiting him to finish his thoughts. “And if the remaining Kingdom lords and Claude and the Alliance were to meet us here, surely we can come together and decide then and there what is to become of Fodlan after she is defeated.”
Byleth admitted that it was a good idea. It would help speed things up in the succession of a new country with the Empire out of the way and Byleth already on her way back to Garreg Mach. Lorenz and Flayn agreed, and it was decided then to call everyone to the monastery.
. . .
The door to the infirmary shut tightly, the door to the spare room opened then closed and locked. Byleth could still feel the sweat and blood clinging to her skin despite the washing she had done after Enbarr.
After Enbarr. After Hubert and Edelgard’s defeat. After finding the archbishop.
Then learning about those who slither in the dark, the Agarthans, Thales .
After all of that, and still Seteth lay unmoving. She watched him for a moment in the moonlight, the glow from the beams alighting his face. He still looked peaceful. Byleth’s stomach dropped.
Two moons without him. She remembered his voice, his last words said, the happiness in his tears at her admission of her love for him when he believed he was dying, and Byleth raised her hand to her mouth to hold back a scream? A wail? She stood for a long moment letting the moment pass and the wetness build, though not fall from her eyelids.
Seteth hadn’t moved, hadn’t stirred, couldn’t speak, and the world moved on without him tethered to it. What else could happen that he wouldn’t get to see? Wouldn’t get to experience? Would they win against their next adversary? Would he wake up alone with everyone dead and gone, Byleth and her blessed power not enough to take Thales down?
What if she couldn’t protect his daughter, the only family he had left? The only thing he truly fought for in this war? Byleth moved her hand to her throat as she swallowed back another cry. Take care of Flayn , please , he had said. His last request to her, and she was afraid she wasn’t enough to fulfill it.
She couldn’t be enough, not without his guidance. There was not enough time together, not the almost year they shared before the war, nor the short months after she woke up and before he was put into slumber.
No, Byleth feared she was destined to fail, no matter the battle she had just won.
The few steps to his bed were so agonizing that once her knees pressed against the frame, she collapsed. Tears fell from her eyes as she reached for his hand and clutched it into her own. Sobs wracked her body, leaving her chest in stuttered waves, the saltiness of her tears touching her tongue making her recoil. “Seteth, please come back to me,” she whispered, all ragged and shaking. “We’ve won against the Empire. We’ve found Rhea, we defeated Edelgard, but…” Byleth leaned up onto her knees to lay her head onto his stomach gently, hands fisted into the sheets around him. “It’s not over. Nothing is over. There’s still another battle to face and I can’t do this without you. I can’t .”
Without Seteth, without his reassuring advice, without the shared affection they never got a chance to speak about fully, she knew she would not survive till he woke up.
Byleth took in a deep lungful of air, exhaling slowly to try and control her tears, her misery, her despair. “Please come home to me.”