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“It’s true. My name is Byleth Eisner. I am the daughter of former mercenary Jeralt Reus Eisner and the nun Sitri.” Rather than being nervous, Byleth had never felt more sure of herself. Lying to the Almyrans had been uncomfortable. Remembering her lessons, she spoke with emphasis on clarity; ensuring every space in the room could hear her. At the edge of the crowd, she spotted Cyril. Making eye contact with her footman, he gave a slight nod and disappeared. “Three years ago I became a professor at Garreg Mach Monastery. For those of you who don’t know, the monastery automatically places students in classes depending on where they hail from. Each year I spent there, I taught a different class. Every time I thought I understood an issue at hand, a student would tell it to me from their perspective and it was as if my world opened again. I learned of their struggles and their dreams. Their hearts and I did my best to set them on a path that would help them.”
“I don’t see how this is-” King Xerxes gave Lady Yasmin a withering look and the woman’s mouth snapped shut. Byleth ignored her.
“One such student was Hilda Goneril. Now, I wouldn’t exactly call her an exemplary student in the beginning. I’m sure those of you who haven’t heard of the young lady do know her older brother; Lord Holst. Overshadowed by his achievements, she believed her own efforts to be wasted. It wasn’t until the young miss made friends and had a space to call her own that she came to know it simply isn't true. There are things she can do that Lord Holst never could. Now, my lords and ladies, I do not share this story with you to waste your time.” Byleth met and held the Almyran gazes firmly.
“I tell it to you because I ask for your sympathy. A young woman I helped guide to her dreams and potential was being asked to throw it all away because it is a long held belief that bloodshed cannot be ended without a union between families. When she requested my aid, I could not bring myself to tell her no. Some of you,” her attention flickered across the visiting ambassadors. “may believe it foolish. Selfish even. That a noblewoman’s duty is to marry for the sake of their family. But what if that noblewoman’s dream is also for the sake of their family? And the people those families are sworn to. I ask you: who else could step into Hilda’s shoes and see her dream come to life?” Byleth remembered the letter that Count Gloucester had begrudgingly handed her upon his arrival. The one detailing Hilda’s progress.
“My student became a teacher herself. She’s opened a school for artisans. One that would not turn away anyone willing to learn. One that does not judge based on an individual’s background. How could I allow that dream, the one capable of helping so many youths discover their potential, to fall because of an antiquated idea? My lords and ladies, please know I did not deceive you for the history between our countries.” Movement caught Byleth’s eyes: Cyril had returned. She signaled him forward. “I thank you for the opportunity to explain the reasoning behind my actions. And I understand that for many, it will not be enough for what I have done. So please, allow me to take responsibility for them in a manner you will respect.” Accepting the weapon in her footman’s hands, Byleth unfolded it. There were gasps and murmurs from the crowd as they recognized it.
“Today, on the 20th of the Blue Sea Moon, I challenge all eligible ladies to a one-on-one duel.” Swinging the sword of the creator, she allowed it to partially segment and whip across the open floor. Despite being out of range for the demonstration, those at the front of the crowd stumbled back. “The rules are simple: first to draw blood wins and the first lady to defeat me will take my place as Prince Khalid’s wife.” Pointing her sword out, Byleth met the eyes of the Almyran nobility who she suspected would be the first ones to accept. “However, those who fail must pledge their loyalty to His Highness.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arash stiffen. “If a full hour passes without any challengers, the deal will be considered complete.”
“I don’t see why we should entertain this- this folly of yours!” Yasmin spat. Despite the woman’s words, Byleth could clearly see the calculating looks in the eyes of her fellow nobles. Once more, she opted to ignore her.
“Of course, the challenge is open to foreigners as well. Your Majesty?” Turning, she looked up to the king. Xerxes stroked his beard slowly. His eyes flickered to Byleth, then to the sword of the creator, and finally to the faces of his audience.
“Time was long ago when Almyra did have an heir apparent, their chief spouse was chosen by way of competition. I accept your deal, Miss. Eisner.” His eyes met Byleth’s once more and she gave him a firm nod. “Prepare yourself for combat.” The man smiled grimly.
There was a flurry of activity once the conditions were set. Everyone made their way to the arena for the best seats. The ladies who would be participating were whisked away to arm themselves and warm up. Khalid took shortcuts to reach the arena before the start. His heart was pounding in his ears. When he reached the wing of the arena where Byleth was, he burst through the door. There, Cyril was helping her with her straps. Khalid took a moment to watch. Dressed in black, his mother’s gift hung from her waist. In her hands was an elegant, silver sword. He imagined this was her usual gear from her time as a mercenary. Once finished, Cyril nodded- in private he didn’t bow, Khalid had noticed- and disappeared to give the two their desired alone time. Byleth faced him, her expression calm.
“You’re a mad woman, I hope you know that.” Khalid ran his fingers through his hair before stepping forward and taking her in his arms. Before she could respond, he leaned down and kissed her deeply. He didn’t end the kiss until she clutched him back tightly. “A mad woman. The consequences of all of this-” His voice cut off as she reached up and kissed him again. Every time he attempted to speak, she kissed him. I could get used to this.. Finally, the fight left him. Resting his head on her neck, he sighed. “Will you use it?” No doubt she knew what he spoke of. He felt her shake her head.
“For this? I won’t need it.”
“How can you be so sure?” Pulling away, he searched her face for any sign of worry and saw none. “How can you be so calm? Do you have any idea of all of the women who will come for this? And I don’t doubt some will try to play dirty and-”
“So little faith,” she patted his arm gently. “Trust me, I’ve got this.”
“But you’re not even using your relic. What, did you just bring it out for show?”
“Well, yes.” Byleth nodded and fingered the hilt of her silver sword. “I wanted them all to see what I was capable of, but Khalid- I couldn’t allow the nobles to believe I owed my victories to the sword of the creator.” He nodded gloomily. He knew how history went. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. In his eyes, she needed all the help she could get. “You know the moniker I received as a mercenary, right?” He nibbled his lip.
“The ‘Ashen Demon’, right?”
“Mhm. I got that nickname long before I came into possession of the sword of the creator.” Outside, the sound of a gong signaled the start. Pulling away, Byleth offered him a slight smile. “Just sit back and enjoy the show.”
‘Enjoy’ is not the word Khalid would have used to describe his emotions during the match. The first challenger was Lady Henrietta. The woman wielded a massive halberd with skill. Swinging the weapon in smooth arcs, Khalid couldn’t see any opening for Byleth to get closer. On another backslash, she held her own sword up and caught the blade. With her free hand, she grabbed the pole and let it carry her into the air. Once above, she let go and dove down. Henrietta brought the pole across her face to deflect it. As weapons met and gravity pulled her back down to her feet, Byleth reached down to grasp her dagger. Free of the halberd’s blade, she slashed up and out. Noticing it, Henrietta shoved hard and jumped back. Too late. Red trickled across her knuckles and the gong sounded to indicate the end of the first match. For a moment, that was the only thing heard in the arena. And then, cheers rose from the crowds. Almyrans loved a good fight and the day was looking to be filled with them. Khalid couldn’t see the expressions on either woman’s face, but as they shook hands, he let out a sigh of relief.
On the fighting went. Every ten matches, Byleth was permitted a fifteen minute break. And every break, Khalid longed to visit her. But his mother prevented it. As per tradition, a fighter of the arena was allowed only a single attendant before a match to ensure there was no foul play involved. And Byleth’s was, of course, Cyril. Tiana’s pained smile matched Khalid’s and he remembered that his mother had known Byleth as a baby. That her father had escorted Tiana out of Fódlan. He also knew that, in the short time Byleth had been in Almyra, she and the queen had become close. Khalid sighed. He was not the only one worried for his bride.
Upon emerging from her rest, Byleth always armed herself with a new weapon. From the sword, she selected a spear. Axe, grappling gauntlets, and magic. The woman displayed skill in art after art. Khalid couldn’t help but feel pleased. He knew she was incredible, of course. But now everyone would know it. Hope flickered in his chest and the knot eased slowly. Eventually, he was cheering along with the rest of the crowd. Byleth was lethally efficient. No challenger lasted long in the ring with her and, coupled with the constant change of her choice of weapon, no lady entered with the advantage of having seen her fight. At long last, an hour came and went with no other. The crowd was silent as his father stood.
“My friends, thank you for bearing witness to this momentous occasion. With all those left in the stand as my witnesses and with no objections, I declare Byleth Eisner the victor!” The cheers were deafening. People leapt to their feet and chanted “Byleth, Byleth.” Even old Count Gloucester was clapping, although he shook his head in disapproval. Byleth saluted the crowd before walking to stand before the box where Khalid and his family sat. She bowed and beside him, there was a thump as Tiana slumped into her chair. The queen sighed and her eyes closed. Khalid was tempted to do the same, but he resisted. Xerxes held his hands up and the noise slowly quieted but the air remained charged with energy. “Furthermore, with the support won from this match in mind,” many of the defeated ladies had joined their families after their match. The king nodded to them now. “it is my desire to name my son, Khalid, my heir.” Khalid inhaled sharply and turned to face his father. But Xerxes wasn’t looking at the prince. His gaze remained fixated on the crowd. “Are there those who deny him the position?” He directed the question to where the other princes sat.
Their faces were mixed. Farzad and Shahid looked furious and ready to argue, but Lady Leila yanked them back. Lady Yasmin’s frustration easily matched theirs, but her twins were suspiciously calm looking. Mirza was the only one who looked resigned. He shook his head and spoke for them all.
“No, Father.” Xerxes smiled then. The cheers erupted again, this time for Khalid. But the prince barely heard them. Byleth was being escorted back to her wing. And all he wanted to do was go to her. An expectant silence descended on the crowd after a moment. His father’s foot nudged him and Khalid stood up. Wetting his lips, he spoke.
“Thank you, my brothers. You honor me,” he began and was thankful his voice didn’t shake. “And thank you to all of our foreign guests. It is my hope that Miss Eisner and I will be able to continue my father’s work for Almyra and I look forward to all future partnerships.” Bowing slightly, the crowd cheered again before slowly trickling out of the arena. The challenge took nearly all day and no doubt they were tired and ready for dinner. But before that, they’d need to wash up. Free from his duties as a prince, Khalid sprinted down the steps.
Byleth stretched in the bath and sighed. On the other side of the screen, Cyril was gushing about the fights while he cleaned her weapons. Normally she wouldn’t have needed a guard, but she knew after the final announcement that he’d wanted to talk about it. And it was one of few times when he seemed his age; young and excitable. A tut sounded in her mind.
“I bet you’re happy with yourself.” Sothis said. Well, Byleth was. Not that she said so out loud. “Was that your plan this whole time? To fight your way out of this mess?” Once more, Byleth remained silent. Although she nodded this time. “Hmph. That is exactly what a foolish soldier with nothing on their mind but fighting would do.”
It was always interesting to see what the goddess did and didn’t know about Byleth. Sothis couldn’t read her mind, per say. But they shared experiences and the goddess knew how Byleth’s mind worked most of the time. Of course, Byleth wasn’t expecting to win Khalid the position of crown prince with her plan, but King Xerxes was an opportunist. He rode the high of the fighting and Byleth’s skill to push for it. Byleth had to smile. And, of course, she knew the goddess was only scolding so much because she didn’t want to admit the plan had turned out better than expected.
Cyril fell silent at a knock on the door. Without looking at the shadow through the screen, she knew he’d reached for his axe. Byleth sat up and stepped out of the water. She knew who it was even before he opened the door.
“Highness, she’s busy right now.” He spoke firmly.
“It’s alright, Cyril.” Slipping into a robe, she tied it shut as she exited from behind the screen. “Go wash up yourself.”
“But-”
“Don’t worry.” Byleth smiled and Cyril blushed furiously.
“A-alright Professor,” he mumbled. It was funny how easily Cyril returned to his old way of addressing her. After putting away her weapons, he hurried off. Once the door shut, Khalid crossed the distance between them and pulled her close. Byleth stretched up to meet his kiss. He smelled clean and she sighed.
“See?” She murmured as his lips trailed down her neck. “I told you not to worry.”
“Uh-huh. Didn’t stop me,” he grumbled.
“You’re going to get all wet.” She felt the need to warn him as his hands slipped under her robe.
“Don’t care.” His voice was deliciously low.
“We can’t be late to-” Byleth’s sentence was cut short as she gasped and arched her back into him.
“We won’t be. The kitchens are taking extra time to prepare since it’ll be not only your victory feast, but also one to celebrate my ascension. Any other objections?” Byleth chuckled as she felt his lips travel back up her skin.
“None.” She murmured as they met hers.
Arash watched through narrowed eyes as Khalid sat and traded food with the woman. It was disgusting how quickly their eldest brother relinquished any claim he may have had to the throne in favor of their youngest brother. Now Mirza sat with the newly named heir apparent and seemed to be talking business. Beside him, Hassan settled into a seat. The twins exchanged looks. Their mother had been exiled back to their family home for her hand in kidnapping the woman’s servant. But the whole situation was awfully suspicious. The twins’ own spies among the servants had informed them that the woman ran to her quarters with purpose, as if she knew what was happening. Her story of having a spell on him was believable, but Arash knew better. While he wasn’t a mage, he made it his business to study magic so he could recognize it as need be. And he’d never encountered one that would function as she’d claimed it to.
As Arash passed a dish to his brother, he felt something against the palm of his hands. Slowly, he curled his fingers around the slip of paper and pulled it under the table. Peering down at it, he smiled. The symbol meant their last dice were thrown.
