Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Faerghus, a young woman named Byleth was standing outside her house, holding a lit lantern in one hand as she looked at the nearby forest.
Byleth was in her early twenties and rather pretty, with dark teal hair and light bluish eyes. She was calm and serious, but she had hidden depths to her personality as well. And on this particular evening, her face was clouded with worry for her father.
Byleth’s father Jeralt lived alone with her in this village, but despite the humble lifestyle he preferred, he was also a well-known mercenary. About once a year or so, he received a letter requesting his services, and Byleth took care of the house on her own until he returned. Jeralt always brought back enough money from his mercenary work to keep them afloat for another year.
However, they had only moved to this village a couple of years ago, and this was the first mercenary mission that was in the same direction as the dark forest near the village. Jeralt had gone through the forest as a shortcut and was likely to do the same on his return trip, despite the misgivings Byleth and the other villagers had about this.
Everyone knew of the rumors about the dark, mazelike forest. Its nature made it very easy to get lost in, and the forest always seemed to be in a state of perpetual night. But that was nothing compared to the most frightening rumor, the one that Byleth and Jeralt had heard a few months after moving to the village.
The villagers whispered of a bloodthirsty monster that lived in the center of the forest. They said that it was as vicious as a wild animal yet as intelligent as a human, and that it brutally killed anyone who crossed its path. Some villagers said that it resembled a wild boar, others that it looked more like a lion, but all agreed that no one who saw it would ever see the light of day again.
Jeralt had cavalierly waved away all of these tales. “Those are just rumors,” he always said when the villagers insisted they spoke the truth. “Monsters don’t exist. It’s just a forest that looks dark all the time.” He told Byleth not to believe such rumors, and she went along with this.
Still, Byleth couldn’t deny that she was wary of the forest. Something always seemed off about it whenever she looked at it, and when she looked too directly at the forest, she felt a shiver run through her.
And so she was standing outside the house, watching the forest even as night fell and darkness began to descend even in the village. Jeralt should have made it back home by now. But he had decided to travel through the forest on his way. If something had happened to him in the forest…
Byleth shivered and pulled her cloak more tightly about herself.
Then, suddenly, she heard hoofbeats. She raised her head in surprise, just in time to see Jeralt galloping out of the forest. He reined his horse to a stop in front of her and then dismounted, landing heavily.
“Hey, kid,” he said. “Sorry I’m late.”
Byleth noticed how exhausted he and his horse looked, as though they had been riding very quickly through the forest. And then she saw the scratches. Jeralt’s arm was marred with three long red scratches, and from the look of them, whatever hit him had cut deep.
“You’re hurt!” said Byleth. “Come on, let’s get inside.”
They headed into their house, and Byleth helped Jeralt to clean and bandage his arm. As they tended the wounds, Byleth noticed the shape of them. These were claw marks. Jeralt had been attacked by something with long, sharp claws.
“Father?” Byleth said once they had finished treating him. “How did you get these wounds?”
Jeralt sighed and sat down at their table. “It’s a long story,” he said. “Looks like there’s some truth in those rumors after all.”
“What?” Byleth gasped. “You can’t mean…”
“Oh, yeah, and I brought this for you,” said Jeralt.
He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a beautiful blood-red rose. Despite its having been carried in a pouch, it was pristine, and the petals almost seemed to shine. Byleth had never seen a lovelier flower in her life.
“A rose?” she said as she took it, handling it carefully so she wouldn’t prick herself on the thorns. “It’s beautiful. Where did you find it?”
“That’s part of the story,” said Jeralt. “Sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”
Byleth apprehensively sat down across from her father at the table, and Jeralt began his story.