Chapter Text
Sneaking out of camp in the middle of the night without so much as a lamp to see by was, Byleth was forced to admit, not the brightest idea.
It’s not as though she was lost, exactly. If she closed her eyes and filtered out all of the chirping and skittering of nocturnal forest life, it would be trivial to pinpoint the direction that would lead back to her father’s mercenary band: by now the men were, as Jeralt would often say, quite deeply into their cups.
She wasn’t exactly sure what it meant to be in one’s cup, but she knew that, once inside, people grew very loud, indeed.
So, no, Byleth wasn’t lost- but she was beginning to fear that it was lost. Even after stumbling her way over dozens of half buried tree roots, and through what felt like miles of brush that itched her exposed calves, she never saw so much as a glimmer of the dagger she’d misplaced when she’d stepped out to relieve herself earlier that day.
Like any other young girl, Byleth was obviously very pleased the day her father deigned to provide her with a weapon of her own. After years of watching the grown-ups play the game where they all hit each other with swords and swear at each other, she’d become fairly certain that hitting people with swords was all she ever wanted to do in life, even if she was on the fence about the swearing part.
A dagger was... not a sword, she knew, but it was the next best thing- yet it was no good to anyone left to rust on the forest floor. Even worse, if her father found out she’d been so careless with his gift, he’d likely box her on the ear, and give her only stale bread for breakfast tomorrow.
The thought strengthened Byleth’s resolve. She was not missing out on the fish breakfast she’d worked so hard to help catch and skin. No way, no how.
It was with those wonderful, hopeful thoughts of dried fish occupying her thoughts that she pushed her way through a particularly tall bush, and found herself colliding with something tall, warm, and maybe just a little damp.
“O-oh, my!” said the obstruction, as it- she, from the sound of her voice- wrapped an arm around Byleth, keeping her from sprawling to the ground at the cost of her freedom. “But, what have we here?”
Byleth squirmed her way out of the woman’s grasp, and took several large steps back, reaching for a dagger that she knew was no longer there- but the woman made no moves to pursue her. Nor did the two taller figures that had also apparently managed to elude her notice while her mind was occupied with food.
“It was a child?” asked the man by the woman’s right, the tallest of the three. He was breathing hard- they all were, Byleth noted- and there was a lock of sweaty, blonde hair plastered over his right eye. Brushing it distractedly out of the way, he said, “I believe you were right to stay Claude’s hand, Edelgard.”
The other man- likely Claude- lowered his bow, arrow still nocked. He said, with a fierce shake of his head that sent his lone brown braid whipping against his cheek, “Yeah, no kidding- sure didn’t need that on my conscience. Yeesh.”
“But... but what is a child doing-” the woman, Edelgard, began, before cutting herself off, tutting in frustration. She looked to her companions, and said, “No, never mind. We’ve lost our pursuers, if only for the moment. What do we do with her?”
She added, with an uneasy glance at the surrounding darkness, “I’m loath to leave this girl within reach of bandits.”
Claude hummed thoughtfully. He said, “I don’t know. I’ve heard tale of scoundrels using children as bait- and no offence, kid, but you smell like a trap. Maybe we’re best just continuing on our way.”
Byleth, in fact, took great offence- traps generally smelled terrible, and she’d only bathed that very morning- but before she could raise her objection, Edelgard raised one for her.
She said, the words turning to venom on her tongue, “And you’d be content, even if so? You would leave a young girl to live amongst those who would use her to line their traps, and who knows what else? Really, Claude?”
Claude winced, though he quickly recovered enough to shoot Edelgard a roguish smirk. He said, “Yeah, that’s fair. Kinda wondering why you asked at all, though, if you’d already decided she’s coming with. Dimitri? Thoughts?”
The other man didn’t answer Claude, though. He took a step forward- Byleth was quick to respond, with a step back. Dimitri took the hint, holding his hands up, placating. He said, quite gently, “My apologies, young miss- we’re being terribly rude. May I ask for your name?”
Though she was admittedly a little worried about Claude’s claim that she’d be ‘coming with’, Byleth was pretty sure these strangers weren’t the dangerous sort. They looked soft, even armed as they were- they wore fancy pressed uniforms, each bearing a vibrantly coloured capelet that was probably worth a year’s wages (not that she earned any). Wealthy, and in need of help- nobles, perhaps. Nobles who might be willing to pay for protection.
“I’m Byleth,” she said, trying out the little half bow her father used when dealing with the important clients. She gestured vaguely the way she’d come, and said, “My father’s not too far from here. He can help, if you’re in trouble.”
Eyeing Claude warily, she added, “You can come with me.”
The probably nobles shared concerned looks, some manner of unspoken conversation taking place between them. Finally, it was Edelgard who answered for the three of them, with a warm smile that didn’t really fit her face. She said, “We’re in quite a bit of trouble, in fact. Do you live here, in the forest? I doubt your father would appreciate us bringing our troubles to his homestead.”
“Pretty sure that horse has bolted, Princess,” Claude said, earning him a swift elbow in the ribs.
“I live here... tonight?” Byleth felt at a bit of a loss. She was living in the forest, but didn’t live in the forest, and wasn’t entirely sure on how best to communicate that. She finally settled on, “We did a big job near here. We’re mercenaries!”
She stood a little straighter at that last bit, feeling no small amount of pride at the declaration- which lasted until she remembered why she was out here in the first place. Always an honest girl, she was forced to admit to her potential clients, “I lost my dagger, though... So I’m not a very good one yet. My father’s much better.”
“A mercenary, you say...?” Dimitri asked, trailing off, the corners of his lips drooping in what Byleth- rather sympathetically- understood to be a frown of jealousy about her cool job. His demeanour suddenly brightened, though, and he reached into a large pouch around his waist, retrieving from it an ornate dagger, sheath and all.
Apparently noticing the way Byleth’s eyes immediately snapped to the thing, familiar and so terribly small in his hands, he said, “So, this fine weapon does have an owner. Perhaps we could come to an arrangement, then? The dagger, in return for guidance to your father’s camp. Fair payment, I should think, for a mercenary like yourself.”
Byleth pretended to think about it for as long as she could stand to, before firmly nodding her assent. Yes, that was more than acceptable- she’d never let the man know, but she was clearly getting the better end of the bargain, since she had to go back to camp anyway. If she played her cards right, she might even get a reward her for her hard work- double serving at tomorrow’s breakfast, perhaps, or...
She put those thoughts out of mind, and held out her hand. “Payment first,” she demanded. “Nobles have to pay upfront, because those spoiled pricks never pay otherwise. My father says so.”
This wasn’t received exactly how she’d intended it. Edelgard’s smile seemed to be jolted into one far more genuine- her father always liked it when Byleth forced the smiles that didn’t come naturally to her, so she was becoming an expert on the subject- and Claude laughed outright.
Even Dimitri seemed amused, failing to hide his own smile despite the implicit accusation in her words. He took a few cautious steps closer, holding the dagger in hands outstretched, sheathed blade pointed safely back to his own chest.
“Very well,” he said, once the dagger was within reach. “Please, accept our payment, then, Miss Byleth.”
Then, the dagger slipped out of his hands as, almost precisely at the location it had been pointing, an arrow was suddenly protruding from the man’s chest. Byleth could only watch as her very first client fell to his knees, hands groping uselessly at the dark shaft that had no doubt pierced his heart.
“Dimitri!” Edelgard surged forward, sparing only a glance to her fallen companion before grasping Byleth by the arm, yanking on it so hard that something popped painfully in the girl’s shoulder.
Trying to help her was a mistake, Byleth thought. If Edelgard had simply made for the cover of the nearest tree, she wouldn’t have ended up with an arrow shot clear through her neck, but as it was... The woman’s grip slackened around Byleth’s arm, and she fell to the ground, choking on blood even as it bubbled out of the new hole.
Behind her, Claude- who had spent his last moments heroically attempting to fire off his own volley at the unseen adversary- was breathing his last as well, and his wound wasn’t one Byleth was willing to look upon for long, reminding her unpleasantly of that first messy time she’d attempted to hunt game.
All up, it had taken less than ten seconds for all three of the nobles to die. Byleth was no stranger to sudden outbursts of violence, and this wasn’t even the first time she’d found herself in the middle of a pile of bodies, but she’d never had a conversation go so badly as to result in everyone present’s death, before, and so she was feeling rather put out.
Dying was Byleth’s least favourite activity, the pain usually making it even worse than digging latrines. The arrow in her own chest had, perhaps unfortunately, not been quite as lethal as Dimitri’s, but with or without a heart she still only had so much blood to lose. The last thing she saw, before she fell into the slurry of red mud by her feet, were the two men picking their way over the bodies of her new acquaintances, both clad in rough hide armour.
Her murderers shattered into so many shards of multifaceted glass, as surely as did the rest of the world, her own little body included. And she was small, Byleth knew- because whenever she stepped backwards through time, she briefly became so much larger than she even had the words to describe.
The glass reformed, fusing into a whole, clear pane, a window that wrapped impossibly around the horizon. Through it was a kinder world, in which the nobles were alive, and Byleth herself was hungrily eyeing her lost dagger, and negotiating its return. It would do.
Edelgard smiled. Claude laughed. And Byleth pointed into the forest, and she said, urgently, “Look out!”
To his credit, Claude seemed like he’d never truly dropped his guard and, as though himself a drawn bowstring, he quickly snapped to attention. He spun on his heel and swiftly fired off a shot that hit home, judging by the scream that followed.
Then he crumpled to the forest floor, likely on account of the arrow piercing through the back of his head.
Byleth huffed. She had a feeling this was going to take a few tries.