Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Enough about us. Tell us about your plans, dear.”

It was a pleasant evening at the beginning of the Lone Moon. The bar was warm enough to beat back the chill of the wintery mountain air, and Byleth had drank enough alcohol and eaten enough fried food at this point that her mind had just begun to slip into that easy bliss. Across from her sat Jeralt and Manuela — his girlfriend and her colleague — who had driven across town just to treat her to a meal. Normally, Byleth looked forward to these outings. Today, she found herself staring past the two of them onto the slush-covered streets, wishing she were somewhere else.

Holding her beer by the rim, she turned it idly on the edge of its base and watched as the diffuse light of the sun refracted through the amber glass. “I don’t know. I’ll probably just stay home with a bad movie and a bottle of wine,” she said.

Across the table, Manuela pouted at her as Jeralt wrapped his arm around Manuela’s shoulders, nearby fairy lights softening both of their features. “Atta girl,” he grunted, popping a fry into his mouth. “Just like your old man.” Ever the supportive father.

Manuela slapped the hand on her shoulder lightly. “Don’t encourage her,” she glared, then turned to Byleth once more. “Sweetheart, you are simply far too beautiful to be spending the Day of Reunion alone and miserable. Just look at you,” she said, reaching over to pat her hand. “Wouldn’t you like to have a nice day out; have some handsome man pay your way ?”

At that, Byleth and Jeralt shared a look “Come now, you and I both know the university pays peanuts,” Manuela scoffed, reading their exchange. “Seriously, Byleth, surely you’d rather go out…? Have a little romance, even if just for one night?”

Inwardly, Byleth sighed. Manuela meant well, but it was exactly that kind of goodhearted busybodied-ness that only made her spirits sink. Truthfully there really was nothing more that she wanted than to be treated to a night out with good company, but time and again the universe had not deigned her so lucky. She was beginning to think she wasn’t meant for such things.

Jeralt cut in, shouldering his way into their conversation with all the well-intentioned simplicity of an older former bachelor. “It ain’t easy kid, I know, but I think if you gave up on those apps and focused on trying to meet someone face-to-face, you’d have better luck.”

Byleth rolled her eyes. “Whose side are you on, anyway?” she said with no real bite. Jeralt had listened to enough of her bad-date stories to earn that remark. But still… “There’s only, what, two weeks? That’s not enough time to find someone anyway.”

“Two weeks?! Darling, if you could only see me when I was your age, I could’ve had any man in the room with a wink and a smile — and you , dear, are just as beautiful as I ever was.”

“You’re not that much older than me, Manula,” Byleth said.

She smirked. “You flatterer. You’re just not looking in the right places, Byleth. The love of your life will not be found at work, or on some app for — for poor lonely souls. You need to get out a little; take a few risks. It’s how I met your father, after all.”

“Rear-ending me in rush hour traffic on a Friday night sure was a risk alright,” Jeralt agreed flatly. Byleth bit down on a laugh.

Manuela scoffed. “Oh please, it was barely a scratch and you got an entire date out of it,” she said, brushing his arm off her shoulder altogether. “ I could set you up too, you know. There are… several young people that come to mind.”

Byleth sighed and gazed out the window once more. She loved Manuela — she really did — but there were few ideas less appealing than the thought of a date with her sloppy seconds. Flicking her gaze to Jeralt, they exchanged another meaningful look. “I appreciate the thought, but I think I’d be happier alone.”

Following Byleth’s line of sight, Manuela glanced back at Jeralt, who wiped the grimace off his face quickly — but not quickly enough. “I’ve had about enough of the two of you,” she groused. Elbowing Jeralt a bit, she continued, “If I have such terrible taste, what does that say about you? ”

At that, Jeralt merely chuckled and took a long sip of his beer.

Manuela rolled her eyes. “That’s what I thought,” she said, and turned back to Byleth. “Come now, when have I ever led you astray? I know just the man. He’s a bit older than you, but that only means he won’t waste your time.”

“Now hold on just a minute,” Jeralt cut in as Byleth opened her mouth, “How much older?”

“Mm, I don’t mind,” Byleth said, which made Jeralt grimace and take an even longer sip of his beer. She smiled impishly. “Go on.”

“He couldn’t have been past his mid-thirties, but this was a couple years ago,” Manuela said. 

Evidently deciding that was an acceptable age difference, Jeralt set his drink down. 

“His daughter is one of my favorite students — a real sweetheart,” she continued. “She’s the one who set us up.” 

Jeralt set his now-empty glass to the side and rubbed at his forehead, appearing very much like he would rather be anywhere else having any other conversation. “I need another drink,” he grumbled and the two of them watched, amused, as he clambered out of the booth and towards the bar.

“A kid?” Byleth asked, when Jeralt disappeared around a corner. “Manuela, you can’t be serious.”

“Relax, darling, she was… sixteen at the time, I think. She’d graduated early, you see.”

Byleth stared. “Oh great, a child prodigy. And that helps how…?”

“She’d be like a little sister! You’d love her if you met her,” Manuela said, “but you won’t anyway. It’s just one evening.”

“Manuela, I know you mean well, but —”.

“He’s lonely, Byleth,” Manuela insisted. “A widower. But he’s a lovely man — really, he’s one of the best dates I ever had. I just knew he’d be too uptight for me, so we never had a second one.” A pause as Manuela dug her phone out of her unreasonably-large purse. “One night. Say the word, and I’ll text Flayn.”

‘Flayn’. His daughter, Byleth assumed, half perplexed. But she turned the proposition over in her head, weighing the pros and cons. On one hand, staying home was safe. There would be no one to disappoint her but herself. On the other… there would be no one to disappoint her but herself, and Goddess if she wasn’t sick of the silence of her apartment sometimes.

Byleth sighed. What was one more mediocre date in a long string of mediocre dates? Surely this man couldn’t be any worse that the ones she’d endured already… though he’d gone out with Manuela, so he could be anything.

What did she have to lose, really?

“Okay. Fine. One date.”

Manuela clapped her hands together, smiling broadly. “You will not regret this dear, I promise,” she said as she at last found her phone and swiped the screen on with a click. “Oh, Flayn will be overjoyed…”.

Reclining back and hoping against hope Jeralt would return with more drinks for all of them, Byleth listened to Manuela chatter away as she texted, and tried not to overthink what she had just signed up for.

***

The weeks leading up to the Day of Reunion dragged on as the chill at last began to wane, the first buds of spring pushing up through the remains of last year. With the newfound beauty of the shifting seasons, Byleth could almost put the impending day out of her mind. 

Almost. With each passing day, there were more reminders — vendors selling flowers on street corners; shop windows offering holiday sales. The cadre of students that manned the front desk had new gossip each time she passed, it seemed. If she could warp time, have the day arrive just so she could get it over with, she would.

It wasn’t that Byleth hated the day, not really. She actually quite enjoyed theming her lessons for the day around it. And she didn’t hate that she was going to be spending it with someone she’d never met. She just… hated how inescapable the whole event was; how effortless others made a day of romance seem. 

For much of her life, she’d been lonely — being mute for the first ten years of your life would put anyone behind socially, and finding it difficult to read others didn’t help matters. It wasn’t until puberty hit and her looks outpaced her social abilities that anyone had taken an interest in her. Even then, they all seemed to inevitably lose interest once they spent a little time with her.

Things had gotten better once she hit adulthood. Landing a job teaching history to university students had led to feeling more wanted than she ever had in her life — both by her students and colleagues. For once, she truly felt as if she belonged.

Her romantic life, on the other hand, continued to lag behind despite her best efforts.

“Doing anything special this Friday?” Dorothea Arnault asked by way of greeting, interrupting her thoughts and posing in her doorway with a sly grin that Byleth knew meant she was on the hunt for gossip.

She would find none from her. “As a matter of fact, I am,” she said dryly, grabbing a thin stack of papers from her desk. “Drafting your test. Here’s your essay. Remember, the due date is Monday.”

Dorothea took the paper, scanning her red-lined annotations for a brief moment before she tucked it into her bag. “The Monday after a long weekend,” she mused, clicking his tongue. “Cut us a break, won’t you? A girl’s got to have some fun.”

“You’ve had plenty of time to hand in your draft, Dorothea.”

She pouted. “I hope your date is more entertaining than my weekend, then,” she said as she headed to the front desk to flirt with an oblivious Edelgard, and Byleth had half a mind to shoo her away so the two of them had less time to gossip about her, and more time to focus on their work.

But she took a breath and closed her office door. It wouldn’t be right of her to take her complex soup of emotions out on them. She shouldn’t have mentioned the date to Edelgard in the first place.

Just then, her phone chimed, drawing her out of her thoughts. She picked it up and clicked the screen on — a text from Manuela. She’d been sending her periodic updates about her texts with Flayn. She unlocked her phone, expecting more of the same.

Instead, one single sentence shone up at her: “You’re bisexual, correct?”

What?

Byleth blinked; waited for Manuela to clarify, but there were no bouncing ellipses to indicate that she was still typing. Running a hand through her hair, Blyeth typed out a perplexed “Yes?” and hit send. When there was no immediate reply, she sent a probing “Why do you ask? ”.

“Great, ” was the single word that came through. And then, “ You’re all set for your date! She’ll be there to pick you up at 6♥️💜💙”

She was more perplexed now than ever. Quickly, she sent a trio of question marks. Had her date fallen through? Who was she being set up with now, and why hadn’t Manuela told her any of this? “ She? What happened to that guy I was supposed to go with? ”

Idly chewing her nails, she watched as the little bubble of ellipses bounced, disappearing for a few seconds and then returning. Whatever she had to say, it must have been a long explanation. Mentally, she braced herself for another one of Manuela’s ordeals. Maybe agreeing to be set up by her was a bigger mistake than she’d initially thought….

Finally the text came through. “ Yes, she. They’re the same person. I assumed that would be alright? ”

Oh. Well, it all made sense now, at least. Haltingly she tapped out, “ Yes that’s fine ”.

"Have fun darling, ” was Manuela’s quick response.

“I’ll try ”.

“You better! I’ll be waiting to hear every detail afterwards. ;)”.

With an eyeroll and a bemused huff of a laugh, Byleth turned her phone off and put it to the side. There were two days left til Friday, and she still had a mountain of assignments to grade.

***

The day had, at last, arrived.

Byleth stood in the dim-lit light of her bedroom, tugging on her boots and ignoring Sothis — her cat — who seemed intent on covering every square inch of her in white fur. For the umpteenth time, Byleth gently picked her up and set her out of the way. Maybe this time she’d listen (she did not).

With her boots laced and the clock at ten minutes to six, Byleth hooked the chain with her mom’s ring around her neck as a good luck charm, and went looking for the lint roller. At five minutes to six, she’d gotten most of it when the doorbell rang. Hurriedly she grabbed a light grey coat from the back of her bedroom door and swung it on, hoping to cover whatever she’d missed without the help of a mirror. Sothis twined between her feet all the while, even as she made her way to the front door, seemingly determined to trip her up and then make her great escape.

With a light sigh of frustration, she went to the closet door where she kept the kibble. “Coming!” she called down the hallway as she scooped a few bites into the bowl. 

Finally, with Sothis satisfied, a slightly-harried Byleth unlocked the door and swung it open, and came face-to-face with her date.

The woman stood there on her front step, a bouquet of white and pink roses in hand. She was tall — or, more likely, Byleth was short in comparison — tall enough that she had to look up to meet her unsettlingly light and vividly green eyes, with green hair to match. A clear effort had been taken to tame her curls into a braid, but the effort had only been somewhat successful. Wisps of hair floated away, framing her face. Quickly, Byleth’s eyes flicked downward. She also wore a high-necked dress that went nearly to her ankles, complimented by a shorter-length trenchcoat and black leather heels. A lovingly-worn black purse finished off the look.

Byleth hadn’t known what she had been expecting but, somehow, this … this had completely caught her off guard. Words tumbled out of her mouth, thoughtless and unbidden. “Is — is that your natural hair color?” she said.

The woman’s eyebrows raised a fraction in surprise, and they stared at each other for a long moment. “Pardon me? Erm — you are… Byleth, correct?”

All at once, her feet hit the ground once more. “Yes! Yes. It’s just so rare.” she blabbed, catching a chunk of her own grey-green hair in her fingers to show. “I’ve only met one other in my entire life, um, one of my students from years ago…”.

The older woman blinked. “Ah,” she began, tilting her head forward the tiniest bit and causing her hair to catch the evening sun, “yes, these hair and eye colors are rarely seen these days.” Passing the rose bouquet to her left arm, she reached for her hand and squeezed it warmly. “I take it Manuela did not give you my name? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sethe, and it is… so very lovely to meet you, Byleth.”

“Oh, flowers,” she said, taking the bouquet as it was offered to her. “No one’s ever brought me flowers. Thank you. And — thank you for agreeing to — to go out with me tonight.”

“I promised my daughter that I would make an earnest attempt at the dating pool this year,” she said warmly. “It is my pleasure.”

Were it anyone else, she might take her explanation backhanded, but her tone was so earnest that it instead put her completely at ease. This night was meant to be low stakes for the both of them. “Let’s just… focus on having a nice time, then.”

“Indeed. Shall we?” she asked, taking a step away towards her car.

“Yes, just a minute.” Mentally, as she turned to lock the door, Byleth noted the older woman’s formal speech. It was odd, though not entirely offputting — almost soothing in its quiet deliberateness. “So where are we going, then?”

“The Garreg Mach Archives have added some items to their collection that I have been wanting to see,” she said as she opened the car door for her, “and the cafe is beautiful.”

“The ones for the War of Unification?” Byleth said as she sat and Sethe closed the door behind her. 

She rounded the vehicle and quickly slid into the driver’s seat. “Have you already been?”

“No,” she said with a shake of the head, setting the flowers on the dash, “but I’ve been meaning to go. Edelgard…”. She paused for a second, mind stuttering. “Sorry, one of my students shares her name. Empress Edelgard is a secondary interest of mine.”

Sethe eyed her as she turned the key in the ignition and pulled onto the road. “You may very well teach me a thing or two, then.”

Byleth shrugged, not eager to oversell herself. “The period is what I teach. I’m familiar with the historical background.”

“I’d forgotten Manuela had mentioned you were a colleague. History, then. Funny, ‘Edelgard and Byleth.’”

“Mmhm, I’ve had quite a few students with historical names, even in the few years I’ve been teaching.”

“I see. And your research?”

“Ah, my thesis covered my namesake’s role in shaping what became modern Fodlan," she said, and then more softly, “and her potential involvement in ancient magics.”

“It is fortunate that your namesake is an interest rather than a burden,” Sethe mused, raising an eyebrow at her. “But please, go on. Ancient magic?”

Byleth sized the woman up. Oftentimes, the topic of ancient magics was met with a look of boredom, as if humanity already knew all it needed to know about the subject. This woman’s interest, however, seemed genuine — though she’d been mistaken many times before. Cautiously, she forged ahead.

“Yes. There is some evidence to suggest that there may have been more to Byleth than what history remembers. Accounts of her tearing open the sky — of her hair changing color overnight; a strange knack for predicting the future.”

“Or returning back from the dead?”

“Exactly. What if it isn’t just a myth? What does that say about her influence on Empress Edelgard, and the rest of the noble houses? The Agarthans?” She was starting to gain momentum now. “What power did she potentially have access to, and where did it go?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Sethe said.

“Right,” she said emphatically. “To have the entire country at your fingertips, and to place it in the hands of your monarch instead…! The trust they must have had in one another…”.

“Truly the stuff of legends.”

Byleth smiled a bit. “Sorry, I don’t mean to go on.”

“No, please. I have written a bit about the pair myself; it is always a pleasure to hear another expert opinion.”

Byleth stared, half-grinning. “Oh, so that’s the real reason you agreed to this.”

Sethe chuckled a bit and glanced over at her, hands on the wheel as the world rushed by. “I admit, your name did intrigue me. Your knowledge is a happy coincidence.”

“As long as I get a special acknowledgement in your next book.”

“I think that depends on how this evening ends.”

Byleth smiled and leaned back into her seat. Despite her strangely formal way of speaking, making conversation with this near-stranger was a breeze. It was a nice change of pace from the men she’d been seeing as of late. Goddess, when was the last time she’d been out with a woman, anyway? Why had she ever stopped? “I never asked — what do you write?”

“A little of everything,” she said evasively. “Ah, but I keep my lights on as a contractor for a publisher that specializes in educational middle-grade fiction. Have you heard of Dear Fodlan ?”

Byleth blinked. Of course she had. The series had been running since she was a child — fictional diaries written from the perspectives of children who lived through historical events. Recently, however, there had been a surge in popularity as books from the perspectives of the students who had taken part in the Unification War had begun to release. She’d even read a few herself for fun. “You’re serious?”

“You’ve heard of it, then?”

“My students love them.”

“I thought you taught college courses…?”

“I do! ” she exclaimed. “Surely you know how popular they’ve become outside their age bracket.”

“No…?”

“Well…” she scrambled for something to say, coming up blank. “Just trust me.”

“You know…”. Sethe stared straight ahead for a moment. “A few internet jokes my daughter has sent me are beginning to make sense.”

Oh dear. “Well, they’re well-loved. And well-researched, from what little I have read,” she said in an attempt to steer the conversation in a safer direction.

“Thank you,” she said, and Byleth mentally breathed a sigh of relief. “I cannot take full credit, of course. My colleagues are all very skilled individuals.”

“As are you, I’m sure.”

“I am inclined to believe so,” she said simply, and as she turned the wheel to pull off onto an exit, Byleth felt herself being drawn closer to this woman, her quiet confidence attractive in its modesty. 

She glanced at the minimap in the dashboard — twenty minutes until they arrived. Perfect . Just enough time to needle her about every student she’d written about, and why. 

Adjusting the seatbelt so she could face her easier, Byleth began her assault.

***

By the time they at last clambered out of the car, Byleth thought she had talked more in half an hour than she ever had in her entire life.

Stretching her arms above her head, she waited patiently for Sethe to join her. Before her, the museum stood massive and inviting, patrons milling around the sidewalk and picnicking on the lawn littered with sculptures. Apparently, this was a popular date spot; Byleth figured she shouldn’t be surprised.

“Ready?” she said, as Sethe joined her at her side.

“Almost,” she answered, squinting at her phone. Spoken under her breath, Byleth could just make out her disgruntled complaints about digital tickets. “Now I am ready.”

The line for the express queue was efficient, and they made it through without incident, grabbing a map pamphlet along the way. 

Gently taking her by the elbow, Sethe guided Byleth to the nearest empty corner.. “Shall we formulate a plan of attack?” she asked as she unfolded the map for both of them to see.

Byleth glanced up at her. “Sure,” she said, and made a mental note that this woman was a strategizer. “Start with what’s new?”

She nodded. “So we ensure we see our fill of it while it is here. Yes, I agree. I would like to revisit the Ancient wing if we have the time, as well.”

“And then back to the ground floor for dinner?”

Sethe quirked a half-smile at her. “Are you excited? You should be. They serve an excellent deconstructed meat skewer dish here that I think you will quite enjoy.”

The thought alone was making her mouth water. “Food is the best part of any date.”

At this, Sethe flashed her a full smile as she folded and stashed the map. “I am glad to hear it,” she said, strangely earnestly, and the two of them made for the nearest set of stairs.

The entrance to the temporary exhibit was marked with banners of every color and size — reproductions, the placards explained, of the original Garreg Mach Military Academy house flags. As they slowly filtered in among the crowd, soft choral music filtered in through hidden speakers. When Sethe caught Byleth squinting up at the ceiling, she leaned down. “Hymns to the Goddess. Choir music,” she said, close enough to be easily heard over the chatter. 

Right. Student life at the academy had been inextricable from the church, after all. Still… “I’m surprised you can make it out so well,” she said back. At best, Byleth could pick out a note or two; nothing resembling a full melody.

Sethe’s arm brushed hers as she surveyed the displays ahead. “My height is an advantage in a crowd.”

True enough, Byleth supposed. “I’m counting on you to get us through here, then.”

She looked down at her. “Would you like my elbow?”

“Hm?”

“To lead you.”

“Oh ,” Byleth said. Her first instinct was to refuse, but she was already being jostled when they were barely through the doorway. Besides… this was a date, no matter how unserious it may be. “Yes, please.” 

When Sethe offered it, Byleth linked her closest arm and held on with her other. She felt a bit silly like this — like a proper regency lady on her lover’s arm — but she couldn’t deny its effectiveness. If it was a move by the older woman, it was a slick one, and Manuela had been right about Sethe’s abilities.

Slowly, they began their circuit around the room. Were it any other day, it would be a spacious one with soft mood lighting and carefully arranged cases filled with knicknacks of a bygone era, but today, the crowds kept each room full. The exhibit began with establishing Garreg Mach as an institution, and explained the tensions between it and each of the neighboring countries. It progressed through student life and activities, to the beginning of the war, to its eventual end.

Or, it would , if they ever made it through.

“You were correct to suggest we start here,” Sethe said as they came upon a side-by-side reconstruction of a commoner’s dorm next to a noble’s. “I apologize — perhaps I should have picked somewhere less popular for us to visit.”

“It’s fine. It’s nice to be here with someone knowledgeable on the subject.”

“Someone you do not have to teach, you mean.”

Byleth shrugged. “I love my job, but I do miss being able to just discuss . My colleagues seem to only have the time for their research, and I’m happy to help, but…”.

“There is an inherent pressure in that sort of discussion.”

“Exactly,” she sighed. “I don’t want to perform .”

“I will try my best to not pester you too terribly much, then,” she teased.

Byleth hummed. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.”

“You flatter me,” she said, and gestured towards the display to begin. “It is quite something, to think princes and princesses once cohabitated with their subjects.”

Behind them, a slightly-disheveled mother reined in her toddler from ducking under the velvet stanchion barrier to play amongst the dollhouse-like set. “The nobles lived a floor above the commoners, but you’re right that they intermingled in every other part of their day,” she corrected her with a slight tease in her voice. “It’s strange to think we were once a monarchy at all. Not that we don’t have our issues now, but I can’t imagine.”

“And they were mere children.”

Byleth blew air through her nose in an almost-snort. “Teenage angst is one cause for revolution. Noisy neighbors, too.”

Just as Sethe was about to reply, the little girl gave her mother’s arm a mighty yank and slipped out of her grasp. Almost before she realized what was happening, Sethe untangled herself from Byleth’s grip and bent, catching the child from behind just as she crossed beyond the barrier. Shocked at her foiled attempt, the girl made no sound at suddenly being in a stranger’s grasp — it was only when Sethe gently handed her off to her exasperated parent that she began to wail. The two exchanged a few words — thanks, Byleth supposed — and a laugh, and Sethe was at her side once more, crisis averted. “Where were we?” she asked nonchalantly.

Byleth slipped her hand into hers. “I can’t remember,” she answered, and grabbed Sethe by the hand to pull her back into the larger room.

With their fingers still intertwined, Byleth looked up at Sethe as they re-entered. “Alright. I taught you something about the dorms. Now you can teach me something about whatever you like.”

Sethe’s spare hand went to her hip and she cocked one eyebrow at her. “A challenge?” she asked seriously. “This is becoming quite an unconventional date. I accept.”

Byleth grinned as she watched her survey the room with a sharpened gaze. It was nice to be with someone who was willing and able to play with her like this — and that focused look in her eye was a welcome bonus.

“Ah, there ,” Sethe declared, gesturing at a mannequin clothed in a student uniform, and they set off.

As they passed from room to room, the light banter they exchanged seemed to make the minutes melt away. Byleth had never thought herself gifted socially, but somehow Sethe seemed to bring it out of her — for every quip, she found a playful retort came easily. It helped that Sethe was shockingly well-read, too. Her knowledge bent into the obscure, revealing niche factoids that Byleth had never heard, and she was intuitive, too, always asking the perfect question to give her an excuse to ramble. Together, Byleth thought as they passed by Garreg Mach academy memorabilia, they could chat until their voices gave out.

But everything up until the war’s beginning, it turned out, was merely an appetizer. 

It was as if history was unfolding before their eyes. Byleth could spend all day here, if she had the time — so many things she had, until now, only read about. Things that were kept in locked containers in dark rooms, only brought out for special occasions. 

“Look,” Byleth said. “Cichol’s spear.”

“And Cetheleann’s staff.”

“Strange, isn’t it? To think that the Saints themselves once held them.”

Sethe nodded. “Indech must have been a master craftsman indeed, to last this long unbroken.”

Famously, the weapons had been anonymously donated to the Garreg Mach archives nearly a century ago after hundreds of years of being thought forever lost — a pet mystery of every Fodlan historian. “What’s your theory?” Byleth asked Sethe eagerly as she snapped a picture to show her students later.

The question seemed to draw Sethe’s attention more than anything previously. “I had not thought much about it. Merely one of life’s mysteries.”

Byleth blew a raspberry in response. “I can see from the look on your face that that’s not what you really think.”

“Is that so?” Sethe asked, arching an eyebrow down at her.

Byleth stared back, challenging. “What’s the big deal?”

Sethe sighed; tapped a finger as she thought. Then, all at once: “Perhaps they decided it was time to put their weapons to rest, and donated them themselves.”

Byleth rolled her eyes. “No, seriously.”

There was a pause  as Sethe’s wheels seemed to turn. “It is well documented that the first crest-holders had abnormally long lifespans.”

“You know as well as I do that those accounts are dubious at best. I didn’t take you for a conspiracy theorist.”

“Conspiracy?” she scoffed. “I believe it is your turn.”

Taking note of how she had avoided giving a real answer, Byleth let it slide. “I think some trust fund kid found a dusty box in the attic of their grandfather’s mansion, and didn’t want the press.”

Sethe cocked an eyebrow at her. “An attic ? And this is supposed to be a more realistic suggestion?”

“Well they had to be somewhere .”

“Surely they would have sold them, rather than donate. They are practically priceless.”

“Again, trust fund baby. No one in possession of something like this would be anyone but a descendant of noble blood,” she said. Byleth gestured at the blade. “Besides, who knows how many lives it claimed? The relics were supposedly so dangerous, they had to be destroyed. Battles were fought over them. Yeah, if I found something like that, I’d want it gone as fast as possible. Wouldn’t you?”

“I think I prefer my theory,” she said stubbornly.

Byleth laughed. “Maybe they still walk among us.”

Sethe huffed. “Stranger things have happened,” she said, resisting her teasing.

She laughed again, harder this time. “I really can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”

At this, the woman finally cracked a subtle smile. “I think it’s time we let those behind us have a better view,” she said, and led her away. Indeed, as soon as they moved, their spot was taken by another eager couple.

“We must be nearly done,” Byleth said as they entered the next room, clearly themed around Edelgard’s second coronation as the ruler of the newly-united continent. There was a large crowd drawn around a reconstruction of her throne at the far end of the room. The original, along with her crown, were still in the possession of the capital in Enbarr — something Byleth had been lucky enough to have seen only once, on a trip with other graduate students years ago.

Something else seemed to have drawn her date’s eye, however. Weaving through the crowds, Sethe drew them towards an annex off the main hall. 

This room was much smaller — and quieter too. By contrast, only a handful of people other than themselves milled around, lending the space a sobering sort of air. It was an appropriate one, Byleth realized, as she scanned the walls.

A little-known but historically devastating consequence of Edelgard’s takeover of Garreg Mach Monastery had been the destruction of many church artifacts. The faces of the statues of the four saints in each corner had been destroyed, leaving them as almost anonymous figures. Cichol had been rendered fully headless. Either someone hundreds of years ago had held a grudge, Byleth thought, or they had been much too strong for their own good.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Byleth said just quietly enough for Sethe to hear, “How much about the church will we never learn?”

Sethe hummed, fingers grazing the guardrails as they passed a tapestry where a blade had been taken to Archbishop Rhea and her counsel’s faces. “By all accounts, the Church was a hindrance to Fodlan’s advancement.”

Byleth eyed the woman curiously. “Still…”.

When no reply came, Byleth pushed again. “It is only because of Edelgard’s government that so little survives. Wouldn’t you like to know what the Church’s opinion on Edelgard’s war was?”

Finally, she spoke. “Perhaps the Church itself was responsible for this destruction.”

Byleth blinked; turned the idea over in her mind. It was backwards from everything she’d ever learned or read. Edelgard’s reasons for overthrowing the Church were numerous and well documented. It would therefore follow that, after the war’s end, she would seek to destroy as much of its influence as possible. “In what way?”

“Hm? Ah, I mean it quite literally. Do you not think it strange that the Goddess' visage is often left intact?” she said, nodding to a painting on the opposite wall. 

“Edelgard knew trying to abolish the religion altogether would lead to revolt. She specifically ordered the Church destroyed, not the Goddess. Leaving her alone would have been in her best interest.”

“And the Saints?” Sethe countered.

Byleth frowned. “Well, why would the Church have done it?”

“Perhaps the Archbishop saw the writing on the wall, and did not intend to allow history to bastardize the Church’s icons,” she hypothesized. “Perhaps she wanted to safeguard what was hers.”

“Maybe, but… their stories would live on anyway.”

“Ah, but stories warp over time; become unrecognizable over generations. A sculpture can last a thousand years if it is well-kept.”

It was beginning to click together in her mind, though Byleth wasn’t sure if she bought it. “So the Archbishop knew she was fighting a losing battle, and didn’t want, um… any blasphemous teachings to become associated with the true Saints.”

“Something like that. It is only a theory, of course — the Central Church was not the only branch to host such pieces.”

“You have some interesting theories ,” Byleth said as they slowly made their way round the room. “Maybe the Archbishop just wanted to protect them. Because they must’ve been alive then , to live long enough to donate the spear and the staff later, right?”

Byleth watched with a small amount of satisfaction as Sethe seemed to balk for a short moment at the callback. “You may very well be correct,” she said, her words clipped and light. “Perhaps she was responsible for the erasure of depictions of her counsel as well.”

“Well — and I’m just following your logic here —” Byleth continued, “ — they were surely at more risk than ancient mythical heroes. It does make you wonder though, doesn’t it? What kind of woman the Archbishop must have been, to drive these people away, and then protect them like this.”

“Anger may very well have been a motivator. Perhaps she grew disillusioned with all she created, and angry with all who betrayed her.”

Byleth chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. There was no evidence to support either theory, but instinct — or perhaps sheer stubbornness — willed Byleth to take another angle. “But what about the storybooks her advisor wrote? Surely if she were angry enough to erase them, those would have been a target.”

Sethe glanced down at her with surprise. “Is it known that he wrote them?” she asked.

“Well… it’s only a likely theory. I read a paper about it recently.”

“I see.”

“Regardless of how they survived, I thought it was nice that this is how he has been remembered,” she said. “How many children grew up with the tale of the fox and the squirrel as a bedtime story?”

“Did you?”

“Sure. It was one of Jeralt — my dad’s — favorites. Or, I don’t know. It was what we had.”

With a squeeze of her hand, Sethe smiled down at her. It was a lovely smile — one that reached her eyes and emphasized her crow’s feet. Byleth felt her stomach flip. “I’m sure her advisor would be pleased.”

The connection that had been niggling at the back of her mind ever since they entered the room suddenly came into Byleth’s consciousness. “Did you name yourself after him?” she blurted, then realized what she’d done. “Sorry. I just — he’s always fascinated me.”

She shook her head, brushing her worry aside. “Yes, something like that,” she said. “We make quite the pair, do we not? Historical leaders on opposite sides of a conflict.”

Byleth blinked. Somehow, she hadn’t even noticed. “Maybe he was the mysterious ex from her letters,” she said playfully. “Wouldn’t that be something, us here, doing this now, so many lifetimes later?”

“Perhaps this time, you will run away with me instead,” Sethe said quietly.

In the span of a second, the world came to a standstill. Sethe’s gaze was intense, and Byleth found her heart racing under the weight of it. “On our first date?” she asked. “At least take me to dinner, first.”

The older woman stared at her for a moment. Then, all at once she slipped her hand away and went wide-eyed. “It seems I am rustier than I thought. Forgive me, Byleth. I misspoke.”

Byleth laughed. “It’s okay,” she said. “I thought it was cute.”

“ Cute? ” she said, befuddled.

Still chuckling, Byleth led them around the room, at last emerging into the main hall. It was clear by the room that followed that the exhibit was finally starting to wrap up, memorabilia from the Black Eagles’ lives after the war’s end in every corner. Her eyes glazed over each piece of the past as her mind spun its wheels, running over what she’d said. ‘ Cute ’? Who was she, and where had the real Byleth gone?

A small noise, at last, came from her side. “Do you mind if we sit for a moment? My back isn’t what it used to be.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Byleth said dumbly as she remembered where she was and who she was with. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Picking the first bench she saw, Byleth took a seat and looked up. A sizeable oil painting of Edelgard’s second coronation stared down at them — Edelgard in the center with Byleth, her general, and Hubert von Vestra, her advisor, on either side. Altogether, they made for an imposing trio.

She could feel Sethe’s eyes on her. Comparing, questioning. Byleth glanced to her hands, lonely now, and eager to break the silence, began to speak. “I always dread teaching about her,” she said with a nervous laugh in her voice, “I never show pictures anymore, but I still get the questions. It’s crazy, isn’t it? How similar we look?”

The other woman seemed to shift almost imperceptibly closer, like she couldn’t make up her mind about whether she wanted to be nearer to Byleth or not. “It is quite incredible.”

Shyly, Byleth flashed her a weak smile. “I spent so much of my life studying her — I feel like I know her better than anybody else. And I did it all because I didn’t know who I was, and surely there had to be a reason for me to look the way I do, whether it be magic… or not.”

“ Ah, your thesis. And did you succeed in finding that reason?”

Their eyes met for a shimmering, fragile moment, museum-goers milling around in the background. “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I think — I mean, it must be a coincidence…?”

Sethe hummed. “I don’t know, Byleth.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, fiddling with her hands in her lap, then huffed out a half laugh. “I don’t know what’s worse: if I wasted my life chasing something without meaning, or if there really is something to it. Who — what would that make me?”

Haltingly, Sethe reached for her hands, covering them with her own and gently forcing them still. “I think that makes you a young woman who is alive now , with friends who love her and students who respect her, who has time to figure it out.” There was a brief pause. “I also think she’s easy to talk to, and has a lovely smile.”

Embarrassed, Byleth butted her head into her shoulder. “Thanks,” she said, and let herself smile a bit more freely. “Um, if you don’t mind me saying so — it’s nice to be out with someone a little older than me. I’ve never really done that before.”

“No offense taken,” she said smoothly. “And for what it is worth, Byleth, I do not think anyone ever truly finds themselves.”

“We’re changing every day.”

“Exactly,” she said.

They sat in pleasant silence for a few moments, awash in the warm glow of a pleasant conversation when the overhead speakers crackled to life. “ Attention: the Garreg Mach Archival Museum will be closing in half an hour. Attention: the Garreg Mach Archival Museum will be closing in half an hour. Please make your way to the exits to make your final gift shop purchases. Our museum is open from noon to eight p.m. Wednesday through Sunday except for special holiday hours…”.

“Already?” Sethe mumbled as she pushed her sleeve up and glanced at her wristwatch. “Oh my, three hours.”

Byleth leaned over her shoulder to glimpse the watch face. “Seriously?” As she did so, her stomach began to growl insistently.

Sethe looked at it with a small amount of regret. “Clearly we should have eaten beforehand. My apologies, Byleth.”

“We’ll just get something on the way home,” she said, and got to her feet. “If you don’t mind.”

Sethe shook her head. “Not at all. But, Byleth…”.

“Mmhm?”

“I’d like to ask you a question. It is a bit selfish, but I am hoping you will indulge me…?”

The hedging did little to curb her confusion, but Byleth sat back down anyway. “Yes?”

Sethe turned away, her head tilting up to meet Edelgard in the painting’s steadfast gaze. “Why do you think she sided with Edelgard?”

“Byleth? Surely she believed it was the right thing to do.”

“But that could not have been her sole motivation.”

Byleth stared at her date for a moment. “Well… everything we know suggests that the two women were very close despite never marrying. I mean…”. Byleth shrugged nonchalantly in preparation to point out the obvious. “I’m sure you know that the Day of Reunion is the day that Edelgard died, two weeks after Byleth. Probably of heartbreak.”

Sethe’s face shifted ever-so-subtly — something between a wince and an emotion akin to grief. She continued to stare at the painting. “Of course.”

When she offered no more words, Byleth continued. “If you want my… indulgent opinion… I think — I think she did it because she had to. I mean, she was conceived to be Rhea’s pawn. And I think Edelgard offered her a future of her own making. Wouldn’t you seize the opportunity if it were you?”

“I might not have been so brave,” she said, in a voice that betrayed a bone-deep exhaustion. 

Byleth hummed. “I’m not so sure it was about bravery. I don’t think she had a choice.”

At this, Sethe finally tore her eyes from the painting. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think you are correct.”

As they stood, Byleth took her hand and squeezed it. She couldn’t understand, really, why this was so important to her, but what she’d said seemed to have an impact all the same. “Have I helped?”

Sethe smiled, thin but genuine, eyes creased with gratitude. “More than you know. Thank you very much, my dear.”

Byleth felt her stomach flip flop, though this time it was a pleasant sort of feeling. “Of course.”

With a small closed-eyed sigh, her expression cleared. “Shall we find somewhere to eat?”

Already salivating at the thought, Byleth nodded. “Yes, please,” she said, and as they found their way back to the entrance, she began running through her mental list of restaurants that stayed open late enough for them.

***

By the time Sethe’s car rolled to a stop in front of her apartment, the moon had nearly reached its zenith. It had turned out to be a bright night, cloudless with the light of the stars reflecting off the snow. The headlights sent glittering sparks onto the curb, lighting Byleth’s way as she clambered out of the car, now slightly-wilted flowers in hand.

“Let me walk you to the door,” Sethe said from the driver’s side as she scrambled to follow her.

“Oh — no hurry,” Byleth said as she watched from the sidewalk. 

“I would have liked to open your door for you,” Sethe said as she closed hers.

Byleth blinked. She hadn’t meant to seem as if she were eager to say goodbye. The drive home had been pleasant — all that was open this late were fast food places, so they’d picked up burgers and eaten them alone in the parking lot together as they chatted. Somehow, Byleth had managed to keep up her side of the conversation like it was easy. After spending so much time with this woman without struggling, she was beginning to feel like a new person.

So, yes, she did feel some measure of disappointment at unintentionally blocking Sethe’s chivalry. “Habit,” Byleth shrugged apologetically. The motion caused the flowers’ fragrance to drift upwards. “My bad.”

“No matter,” she said as she came to her side.

Together, the two of them walked the short length of sidewalk to her front door in silence. Ahead of them, the windows to her apartment lay dark and uninviting, Sothis nowhere to be seen. The rest of the street was silent too, except for the buzzing of the street lights and distant sound of traffic.

Hesitantly, Byleth snuck a look at Sethe out of the corner of her eye. Her hair was nearly black in the darkness; her features lit softly. What was she thinking ? Had she enjoyed their time together, too? Or was she ready to say goodbye and go home to her daughter, promise fulfilled?

(Daughter . The word alone made her feel dizzy.)

After what felt like an eternity, they came to her front step. Sethe broke the silence first. “Thank you for accompanying me, Byleth —- I learned a great many things tonight.”

“Really? I’m shocked I was able to teach you anything at all.”

She chuckled. “I will take the compliment.”

“Thanks for taking a chance on me,” she said.

“I hope I was more pleasant than the alternative.”

“Much,” Byleth said. 

A beat, as she searched for something to say. “And… I hope it was a good practice run for your next date.”

Despite herself, Byleth could feel a bit of latent longing creeping into her voice — that old desperate bid for connection she never knew quite how to put a voice to. If she was interested… if she really did enjoy her company, surely….

There was a beat as Sethe processed her words. And then, she spoke. “Of course. I won’t keep you. Goodnight, Byleth Eisner.”

The woman turned to go. And as she watched her walk away, Byleth couldn’t shake the thought that there was something about her that seemed lighter, almost — at peace with something she wasn’t privy to.

She fumbled with her keys, eventually finding the one she needed and inserting it into the lock. Sethe’s footsteps echoed off the concrete and into her ears. Why couldn’t she feel as at peace with tonight as Sethe seemed to ?

A dozen memories flashed before her mind’s eye. One dead-end date after the other. A dozen people she’d felt nothing for; a dozen dates she’d arranged just to sate an insatiable hunger in her chest for companionship. 

And here she was, in the cold, letting someone she’d actually felt something for go. Why? Because Sethe was a widow? Because she had a kid old enough to be out of the house?

But what was her alternative? She could see her future rolling out in front of her. A hundred little moments wondering what if ; late nights spent in the bed of someone who did not love her and whom she did not love.

Turn around.

Byleth could handle rejection. She’d been rejected personally and professionally a million times before. But somehow… this one mattered.

The hard edge of the key pressed against her fingers. It was time to be brave.

Lump in her throat, Byleth left the key in the doorknob and dropped the flowers on the step. “Wait!” she called as she turned. Sethe, who was nearly at her car by now, turned back.

Tromping through the snow, Byleth made a beeline for her.

“Byleth? Is something the matter?” she asked as she approached.

She shook her head, hair tossed over her shoulder. “No, nothing is wrong. I…”. 

There was just enough light to make out Sethe’s face, though her expression was inscrutable. Byleth forged on, words falling out in a tumble. “I know we both agreed to this because it was better than spending the evening alone, but — but I liked being with you so much.”

Sethe’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. “What are you saying, Byleth?”

Summoning the last of her courage, Byleth swallowed the lump down. “I want to see you again, Sethe, and I think you’re beautiful, and if I don’t ask to kiss you goodbye, I know I’ll regret it.”

Byleth heaved a mighty exhale, not having realized that she was running out of breath in the first place. Sethe, for her part, looked stunned, eyes shining with emotion. Silence reigned as the two of them stared at one another — Byleth hoping against hope, and Sethe processing.

“Byleth… I am not sure you know quite what you are getting into with me.”

She laughed, half incredulous at the situation. “Definitely not. But I…” she hesitated. “I know we just met, but somehow I feel like I’ve been missing you for years. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it’s true.”

Sethe’s eyes shone. “I understand more than you know.”

Byleth took a step closer. “Really?”

“Yes. I am rather out of practice, Byleth, but I have not enjoyed another’s company as I have enjoyed yours in… many moons.”

With trembling hands, Byleth reached up towards Sethe  and grabbed her by her coat’s thick lapels. She stepped into her grasp readily, hands light on her waist, and Byleth felt herself pulled into her body, thick layers of soft fabric between them. The careful touch along with the bite in the air was enough to make a shiver run down her spine, and the two of them giggled with nervous energy.

“Please,” Sethe breathed.

Slowly, gingerly, without speaking another word, Byleth leaned up and pressed her lips to hers.

Sethe, Byleth learned within the matter of a few seconds, smelled of spiced tea and the earth and kissed with a kind of gentleness that she’d never encountered before. She was neither shy nor hesitant, but instead considerate, matching her motions with a kind of firm earnestness that spoke to her experience. And she was warm, too, a pleasant blanket against the chill.

Goddess, she never wanted it to end.

But end it did. And when they broke apart and Byleth found she had breath to catch and fingers to untangle from Sethe’s hair, only one question was on her lips: “When can I see you again?”

Sethe’s eyes were hazy as she smiled at her earnestness, and distantly, Byleth wondered if she looked so taken apart as well. She certainly felt the part. “I make my own hours, my dear. I am at your leisure.”

Excitement bubbled under her skin. This was really happening — she really, truly felt something special for this woman. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Yes,” she agreed. And then, “Ah, I will have much to explain to Flayn.”

That reminder sobered her a bit. “I’ll text you, then. Wait — I don’t have your number.”

“Oh, that’s correct,” Sethe said. Bending their heads together, shy smiles illuminated by the light of their screens, they exchanged contact information.

Finally, with one last lingering hug, Byleth bid Sethe goodnight and watched her drive away until her headlights disappeared.

Now that she was gone, Byleth’s emotional high began to subside. She shivered. When had it gotten so dark out? Hurriedly, she gathered the flowers off the doorstep and turned the key in the lock.

Upon flipping the lights on, there was a soft “mrrp?” from the couch. Peeking over the side, Sothis blinked up at her, almost as if she’d been waiting by the door for her to return. After scratching her behind the ears once, Byleth headed to the kitchen. Maybe if she got the flowers in water sooner rather than later, they wouldn’t be completely unsalvageable.

As she ran a lemonade pitcher under the tap, her phone screen flickered to life. New texts. Having turned the water off and set the whole arrangement in the window, Byleth tugged her boots off, flopped down on the couch next to Sothis, and flicked her screen on.

Oh. Manuela. Of course she’d want to know how her date went. “Hope you aren’t having too much fun ;) ” read the first text. And then, “Don’t forget to tell me everything!!!!!” Finally, the third, and final: “Byleth? ”

Byleth rolled her eyes with a smile and began to tap out her message. “ Sorry, it ran long. I didn’t forget about you. ” Send. 

(Nevermind that she had, in fact, forgotten all about her friend for several hours. No matter — she was about to make it up to her.)

Again, she began to type. “She’s perfect.”

When her phone erupted into furious ringing mere seconds later, Byleth wheezed with laughter, too giddy to care about how rash she was being. 

Rubbing her tired eyes and with a sense of warmth blooming through her body, Byleth pulled her throw blanket across her lap, and snuggled into the cushions in preparation for a night of girl talk and dubious counsel.

And then she picked up.