Chapter Text
Garreg Mach
1194 Blue Sea Moon
In the family room located on the third floor of Garreg Mach, Byleth takes the opportunity to smooth out her daughter’s hair as they await for their esteemed guests to arrive. Shiida's cerulean hair always curls with the humidity and it is especially stubborn today. Her four year-old daughter squirms in her lap, bored with the wait, though she understands enough etiquette to not sneak away. Byleth then reaches down to straighten her daughter’s dress, now creased from her impatience.
Byleth’s eldest, Rodrigue, sits at her side, quietly swinging his legs. He’s more accustomed to these longer waits but he struggles with inactivity and thus, clings to her arm in an effort to keep his hands busy.
Her husband, in his regal armor, sits on the other side, tending to the twins on his lap. The two boys are barely out of their infancy and already proving themselves to be little hassles. Avel tries to rub his mouth against the hilt of his father’s ceremonial dagger, which Dimitri tries to redirect. Then Kain, for reasons known only to him, attempts to climb up his father’s cape. Dimitri awkwardly tries to grab his climbing son while Avel watches, his eyes wide with anticipation as his brother squirms in his father’s arms.
A messenger knocks on their door, alerting them to the arrival of their guests. Shiida hops off, ecstatic to meet new people. Dimitri lifts the twins up, the two boys enthused with the heightened view. As Byleth rises up, a tug at her cloak directs her attention.
She finds Rodrigue clinging to her cloak and she offers him a warm smile. He’s always been so nervous around new people. He looks up, his eyes glistening and she brushes her fingers through his dainty blond hair, hoping to soothe him. He tightens his grip on her cloak but follows suit as she moves forward.
As they approach the open entrance of the monastery, she watches the castle knights guard and guide a quiver of wyverns, the beasts adjusting to their new surroundings. A white wyvern catches her eye, a magnificent creature serving as the leader for the others. Her husband stands at the base of the stairs, greeting their guests, while the twins look up at the strangers.
The white wyvern’s rider chats with her husband, standing out as much as the creature itself. His bodyguards remain nearby, eyeing the Kingdom knights, yet their commander gives them permission to be at ease. The guest’s distinguished yellow garments and colorful bandana show his allegiance to the world outside of Fódlan, yet she spies a familiar pendant of a golden deer hidden within his bandana. The visitor turns to give her a smile.
“Hey Teach,” King Khalid greets, giving her a respectable bow, “You’re looking as radiant as ever.”
She returns the bow to her old student. “It is good to see you, King Khalid.”
Claude chuckles, still unused to hearing her call him by name. Last year, Byleth and Dimitri traveled to Almyra to discuss the border treaties with the King and his family. Since the temperature in Almyra is much hotter and drier than in Fódlan, Dimitri struggled in the blistering desert and they had to cut their visit short. This year, Claude decided to “return” the favor and visit Garreg Mach instead.
She spots Queen Hilda, his wife, draped in fashionable riding attire, approaching from the knight’s corridor.
“Sorry everyone!” She calls out in a honeyed tone. “We had to make a quick bathroom run. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
Behind Hilda, a small boy clings to her, attempting to sneak behind her. The boy takes one look at Dimitri and resolves to make himself smaller, likely frightened with the foreign king’s intimidating appearance.
“Oh and who’s this?” Byleth bends to meet the young boy at his eye-level. He clings to his mother, eyeing her with curiosity. The familiar tint of his green eyes gives away his identity. “Is this Altan? He’s gotten a lot bigger since I last saw him.”
The boy peeks behind, curious to hear his name. A small braid dangles as he tilts his head. Hilda beams.
“Yep, pretty cute isn’t he?” Hilda brags, placing her hand on his head. “Say hi, sweetie.”
Hilda nudges him forward, Altan gingerly follows his mother’s instruction and gives Byleth a big, toothy grin.
She chuckles. “It’s very nice to see you again, Altan. How was the flight here?”
“It was amazing!” He enthuses, waving his arms like a wyvern. “We got up super high! And I’m pretty sure I saw a bird fly into our wyvern’s mouth!”
“Ugh,” Hilda groans, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Sweetie, maybe don’t tell the Archbishop that story.”
“It’s alright Hilda,” Byleth assures, not wanting to spoil the boy’s fun. “Altan, would you like to meet my children? They’re very close to your age.”
He nods, his little braid clanking with rapid flare. Byleth calls the others over and they greet the newcomer, enthusiasm beaming through. Rodrigue’s a bit stiff, but manages a greeting and asks about Altan’s favorite games. The twins crowd around, repeating his name in curiosity. Shiida, in the meantime, observes him. She doesn’t say anything, but her wide blue eyes show her fascination with his exotic clothes and hair.
They all entire inside the castle, the children familiarizing themselves and chatting, while the adults reconvene. Their duties regarding the welfare of their respective countries take precedence over their past history, but it is nice to reconnect again as old friends, even for a short while. As the sun starts to settle in the back, Hilda gives an exaggerated yawn.
“Well, I’m beat. All that travel really wears you down,” she groans, rubbing her shoulders. “Plus, tomorrow’s probably going to involve a bunch of stuffy policy making so I’m going to squeeze in as much fun as I can today.”
Dimitri nods, the beginnings of fatigue growing in his eyes. “Apologies for the prattle. Please, allow us to show you to your quarters.”
The Kingdom guards escort the Almyrans inside the monastery with the Royal family behind them. From the corner of his eye, Khalid spots the Professor tending to the young princess and he smirks. The knights lead them to their guest room while their own guards wait patiently outside their door.
At the first sight of a bed, Hilda plops down and releases a guttural sigh. “Ah! A fresh bed! After three days of nothing but traveling, we finally have a bed.”
Altan laughs and walks over to disturb his mother when Khalid pulls him aside.
“Alright sport,” he whispers, a devious gleam in his eye. “Did you say hi to the princess?”
“Yeah!” Altan grins, his eyes crinkling.
“And so,” Khalid probes. “What did you think?”
“Her eyes are really blue!”
“Are they pretty?”
“Yeah!”
Khalid smirks, satisfied with his son’s enthused answer. “Alright then listen up, sport. I’m giving you an extra important assignment tomorrow, alright?”
Altan’s face scrunches, his eyes focused. Kiddo knows when daddy has a serious job, he’s going to work extra hard to do it.
“I want you to be extra nice to the Princess tomorrow,” he commands, half-jokingly. “The future of Almyra depends on it.”
“Claude!” Hilda shouts from her pillow, using his old nickname for emphasis. “Don’t put so much pressure on him!”
After a long, tedious morning of conversing with their advisors and the Almyran envoys on the border regulations and trade routes, the Royal family finally receive a respite to enjoy a pleasant afternoon with their allies.
The monastery students are currently out attending to their missions for the month, leaving the gardens entirely unoccupied. Byleth moves a table on to the edge of the grass near the hedges so that the children remain in sight as the adults entertain themselves with tea. She watches as Rodrigue and Altan tumble over the grass with Shiida laughing at the display. The twins sit close to the table, exploring the ground below and pulling up the long grass.
Her husband and Claude still have a few matters to wrap up before joining them, but this gives her an opportunity to catch up with her old student, Hilda.
“Ah,” Hilda grins, reminiscing. ”It’s just like old times, huh Professor?”
Byleth nods, a faint smile growing on her lips. “Indeed, which would you prefer? The mint leaves or the rose petal blend?”
“Oh I love both. Go ahead and pick one, Professor.”
The fresh scent of roses fill the air as the tea brews. Hilda beams as she pulls a box of sweets from her fashionable satchel. “I brought some sna~cks! I got these from Marianne a week ago and they are to die for. I’ve been holding on to them for a very special occasion.”
With no hesitation, Byleth reaches for one and takes a bite of the honeyed treat. “Thank you, Hilda,” she mumbles, indulging in the sweet pastry. “How is the Almyran Court?”
“Oh you know, boring,” Hilda sighs, as if taking about the Almyran Royal Court is itself a chore. “I have limited say in matters of the state, since I’m an outsider and all. All I know is how to butter people up, so that’s mainly what I’ve been doing- building up the goodwill with the higher ups.”
“Sounds exhausting,” Byleth empathizes, finishing her pastry and starting on a second.
“It is, but Claude told me that it’s been a real help.”
“Claude?” Byleth smirks, sipping her tea. “Not Khalid?”
Hilda huffs. “I gave up on that years ago. It’s too confusing. That’s what he gets for coming to school under a fake name.”
Hilda’s attention turns towards the playing children and she gives a devious grin. “My goodness, but you and His Majesty have been busy. I don’t know how you can handle four, Professor. We have our hands full with just the one.”
Byleth shrugs. Compared to a classroom of future soldiers with complicated histories and personalities, her children feel relatively easier to read.
She spots Kain crawling on the ground, pulling up some dandelions from the grass and attempting to shove them into his mouth. Byleth bends down to stop him, realizing that she might have spoken too soon.
“No, Kain,” she commands, removing the dandelions and picking him up. “Do not eat the weeds. They’re bad for you.”
She brushes the excess grass hidden in his clothes and hair. He wriggles, but once he spots Hilda’s snacks he suddenly grows more corporative. Once he’s been fully cleaned, Hilda cheerfully hands him a pastry.
“Little guy’s just hungry, isn’t he?” She coos, watching as the young boy gobbles the pastry.
A tug at her dress alerts Byleth to Avel, his bright green eyes looking up at the sudden snack. Byleth hands him an extra and he shoves the treat inside his mouth, his expression flat.
“It’s not easy some days. They usually behave,” Byleth admits, smiling. Kain squirms and she places him back on the ground.
She adores her children. They’re so lively and curious. Shiida’s learning how to read and recently she’s gotten into the habit of acting out all her favorite scenes from her fairy tales. Rodrigue’s taking to his sword training like a duck takes to water. Avel’s a little quiet but he brightens up around Kain. She never really grew up around other children, so it’s hard for her to say whether this is normal behavior or not, but she’s grateful for their happiness all the same.
“Hmm…” Hilda muses, “So maybe it’s just Altan. Then again, he does take a lot after Claude, so that might be it.”
“Does he?”
“Oh yeah!” She exaggerates, her idle personality shining through. “It’s so exhausting, Professor. He climbs on top of everything! The other day, our servants caught him climbing up our library shelves looking for a specific picture book. He was nearly five feet off the ground!
“He’s made off with some of my perfumes. My very expensive perfumes, mind you, and he spilled them all on a wyvern hoping to make the wyvern smell pretty. Then there was the time he almost fell out a window-”
“Sounds hard,” Byleth interjects. If she’s not careful, Hilda will spend the rest of the afternoon complaining.
“Right?” Hilda agrees, her tone brightening. ”I’m thinking of putting a leash on him at some point.”
As Dimitri and Khalid make their way to the gardens, they spot their wives chatting and their children playing in the distance.
“Now isn’t that a sight to behold?” Khalid beams, gesturing his hand forward, “Kids from two former enemy nations, playing without a care in the world.”
Dimitri’s good eye softens as he leans forward against the stone railing, affection spreading on his somber demeanor. “Indeed, it is a marvelous sight. Many of our opponents claim it’s impossible for Almyra and Fódlan to put aside their bloodied history, but witnessing such peace within the castle brings to mind that anything’s possible.”
“True, true. Speaking of this pleasant sight,” Khalid intercedes, hijacking the conversation. “I have a bit of proposition for you, Your Majesty.”
Dimitri chuckles as his stance tenses. “I should have guessed. What scheme do you have cooked up?”
“Well, I was thinking,” Khalid leads in, a hint of mischief in his voice. “As kings, we’ve got a lot on our hands now with mending the peace but all it takes is a generation or two of bad leadership to lead us right back to where we started off; brimming with animosity and clamoring for a war. And you and I both know that allies are fickle. Our kids are going to have to take up our charge someday, but we could make things a lot easier for them if we strengthen our national ties to each other.”
Dimitri's brow furrows as his curiosity takes hold. “What do you propose?”
“I dunno know,” he replies, feigning a laugh. “A nuptial? You’ve got a daughter, I have a son. That’d be one way to-“
A sudden crunch and Khalid hesitates. The stone railing has a visible crack underneath King Dimitri’s hands. His expression turns dour, the “one-eyed demon” briefly reappearing.
“What are you implying?” Dimitri growls, his stance growing more tense. Khalid rushes to smooth the situation over.
“Nothing, nothing,” he lies, hoping to keep his tone jovial. “Just spitballing. That’s one way to strengthen our ties, but we both know political marriages come with their own pitfalls. If another war ever breaks out or our families fall out of favor with the general populace, we’d be signing our kids up for a death sentence. C’mon, it was a joke.”
“I see,” Dimitri glowers, loosening his grip. A thin layer of dust trickles from his hand onto the damaged stone railing. “My apologies for the mess. My hand slipped.”
Damn, Khalid chastises to himself, I can’t just ease this in. I forgot Dimitri’s not the joking type.
It wasn’t a joke- at least, not fully. An arranged marriage would be advantageous to both their nations. Their relationship is strong now, but old prejudices die hard and all it takes is a selfish king to undo years of diplomacy. An early marriage could ensure that Fódlan’s Throat remains open and prevent future conflicts.
Still, he was hoping Dimitri could at least pretend to humor the idea.
Aside from that little hiccup with the stone railing, the proceedings continue smoothly. The two families converse over tea and the servants head off to prepare lunch. Overall, a pretty successful day.
Until they hear a sudden scream.
Khalid rises up and sees the young princess running towards her mother, on the verge of tears, with her brother close behind. Altan also runs up, covered in mud.
“Mommy! Mommy! He tried to put mud in my hair.” Shiida cries, pointing to Altan. Teach reaches down to brush the clumps of dirt entangled within her hair and Dimitri comes to her aid.
Altan fumes, his hands hidden. “No I didn’t! She pushed me!”
Hilda glares, rising up from her seat in a rare show of irritation. “Al? What are you hiding behind your back?”
Gingerly, the kid pulls out a green bouquet of plants with clumps of dirt still clinging on the edges. Khalid spies a few bugs traveling on the dripping dirt and suddenly the princess’ reaction makes way more sense.
“Um, it was a flower,” Altan mumbles, “I thought it looked like her eyes.”
“Don’t you lie to me mister,” Hilda chides, “Those look like weeds. Apologize this instant!”
“No!” Altan yells, throwing the plants down. “She’s mean!” Before his mother can admonish him further, Altan runs off into the bushes.
Khalid looks down at the scattered plant pile and finds a crushed blue flower within the mess.
Hilda gives out a frustrated sigh. “That boy I swear. He’s one of only three people in the world who can get away with frustrating me. The other two know better.”
She gives Khalid a pointed glare and despite being a King, he excuses himself to go find their son and avoid his wife’s wrath. Today’s just not going the way he’d hoped.
As Byleth wipes away Shiida’s tears, Hilda profusely apologizes.
“I am so sorry, Professor. What Altan did was just awful, putting mud in a girl’s hair. I swear he’s normally not like this.”
Byleth nods. Dimitri doesn’t reply, too engrossed in the children to really notice.
“It’s alright Hilda,” she assures. “No one was seriously hurt.”
She turns down to Shiida, her head buried deep into her side. “Shiida? Is it true you pushed Altan in the mud?”
Shiida clings tighter, burying her face further in. Byleth fortifies her tone. “Look at me, young lady.”
“Yes,” she answers quietly.
“Shiida, that was a very mean thing to do,” Byleth admonishes. “You need to apologize to Altan and never do that again unless you’re in danger. Understood?”
Shiida huffs, her sniffles growing louder and Byleth exhales. “We might just have to call it a day. Come on, we should go back inside and clean up.”
What a disappointment. She was looking forward to lunch with everyone.