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Chapter Text

When Petra was just a girl, she believed her Father was the strongest man in the world, as most girls do. His skin was kissed by the sun, eyes sharp as a hawk, and body as strong as the most stubborn of trees. He could lift her in his arms and fight off his royal guard with his free hand. 

In body and mind, he was the Ocean Spirit given form. Serene and charitable to those who respected him. Enrage him, and his wrath would fall upon his foes in a steelsong riptide. Even as a young girl she ignored her blademaster and teachers and instead begged her father to train her. 

To her, he was the pride of Brigid, his long mane of mauve hair billowing heroically in the salty air as he led Brigid’s army alongside Dagda’s to challenge the Empire. He hunted, sang, romanced, and fought with a passion that she yearned to have. He would be a great king, all agreed. 

Yet he died, despite all his blessings. Slain by Leopold von Bergliez in single combat. Some still blame his arrogance for Brigid’s loss. From then on, Petra knew not who the strongest man was. She knew nothing, in truth. Petra had to learn, and the first thing she learned was her most important lesson: Knowledge was a harsh truth. Petra felt as if lost at sea, rudderless in her search for strength. A hostage in a foreign land, learning a tongue she could barely speak. It was there that she understood how weak she truly was. As she learned to read the history of Fodlan, she realized how weak Brigid was in comparison to the great, ambitious Adrestia Empire

Whether her future put her alongside or against the empire, she needed a pillar of strength to serve as her guide, something that could remind her of her drive as she burned candle after candle reading, or as she shot and stabbed at targets and dummies on the training ground. She vowed to become the leader her father never had the chance to be.

When she met Edelgard, she sensed the ambition in her as well. A kindred spirit of sorts. Edelgard was unflinching in a way that reminded Petra of her father, yet also held the tact and cunning that her Grandfather had. Despite her situation, Edelgard had treated her with the rare gifts of respect and dignity. She trained with her and answered her questions patiently on diction and culture alike. For that, Petra was thankful. As they sparred, Petra learned of the gap between them, a chasm that would continue to widen as Edelgard closed the strait between her and her ambitions. 

In her days in the Empire, Petra heard whispers of the Blade Breaker’s band, their successes in sweeping feared bandits as if they were mere cutpurses. In particular, she put the name “Ashen Demon'' to memory. He had made a name for himself, one that would surely grow as formidable as the Band’s namesake. Ashen Demon… The name alone, though heavy on her tongue, held a power. It struck a fear in enemies the Ashen Demon had yet to even meet. That was the power she needed. Power that flowed from her name. Funny, she never thought that man would be her new teacher.

To watch Professor Eisner, she could have believed the War Spirit itself gave him strength. Even in the mock battle, he fought with a mortal intent, fighting off the den of lions alongside her and Edelgard, turning their strengths to weakness. She heard tales from Edelgard of how he, alongside his father, had nearly wiped out the band of brigands that had harried the church forces for at least a moon. He never flinched, and never faltered, and never lost.

To her, that was a strength to follow. A man with a name that sent fear and thrills through Fodlan. With him as her professor, she would find strength.

18th of Harpstring Moon

Though she did not expect to find him tending flowers…

“Professor Eisner?” She called. She hadn’t been able to find him anywhere today, not training, reading, or with his father. She had almost given up her search until Edelgard had pointed him in the Greenhouse’s direction. 

“ He seems to have a penchant for cultivating flowers. Perhaps another interesting quirk of our professor? ” Edelgard had said, pondering her own words. The heir-apparent held the same fascination for the man, Petra could tell. As a fellow princess, she could not fault her for trying to recruit one who would no doubt be a boon for House Hresvelg.

“I’m here,” He said. Petra could barely see him, squatting down to prune the plants. His hands were dark with dirt, the earthy floral scent of the greenhouse clinging to him. It was a nice scent, though somewhat foreign to Petra, who longed for the salt-laden winds off the sea. 

“I was having difficulty finding you,” Petra said, taking care to try and speak her best Fodlan 

“...Makes sense. I’ve been here all day.” Petra noticed his eyes shift to a tome propped against a spade. The pages showed an illustration of a beautiful red flower, blooming out into manifold petals.

Byleth glanced at her and back to where her gaze landed. “Carnations. They’re hard to find in the wild.” He said, before pausing to ponder. “...Do you like flowers, Petra?”

Petra thought it over for a moment. “I am liking some of them, particularly sunflowers. They are being called by the same name in Brigid,” She said. Petra wished she hadn’t thought of her home though, it only made the homesickness pang dully inside her. 

“Are they now? Byleth asked, “I’m afraid I know only a few words in Dagdan, and the Brigid branch of it even less,” His tone always held a listlessness, there seemed to be interest in his tone. “I’ll have to plant a few. They grow fast.” He said, standing up.

“And long as well! Petra said, though the words didn’t sound right as she uttered them. ‘Long’ wasn’t completely right, was it? No… It was a different word, with a similar meaning, but different use. “Tall. They are growing tall.” She corrected herself. 

“Indeed.” He said, before turning to cast a spell over the saplings. “...did you want anything, Petra?” Petra had almost forgotten about her request. “I was hoping that you could be helping… help me with my training. Perhaps a spar?” 

Petra watched his eyes as he thought on the request. Strange. His face was always set in a stormcloud of a mien, yet his deep turquoise eyes were as calm as still water. She was reminded of the ocean shore, the shallows sparkling with an avid invitation as the blue shimmered against white sands… 

The trance broke when Byleth nodded, turning his head in answer. “I could use the exercise today.” 

“Ah, Yes! That is most pleasing!” Petra said, perhaps louder than usual. It was not like her to get lost in one’s eyes. Surely that was not a queenly sign of strength, to surrender to eye-contact alone!

“I’ll meet you in ten minutes. I need to finish watering the plants,” He stated, before turning back to the flowers. He really did like flowers, it seemed. 

*

The ten minutes had passed at an agonizing pace to Petra, who had already stretched and picked her favorite of the training swords available. Perhaps she was just too excited. She had seen him fight in the mock battle, an admirable display of combat to be sure, but to Petra’s trained eyes it was clear he held back some, as if the battle were not important for one of his skills. True, Dimitri’s zeal and Claude’s cunning had wrested more effort from him, but that effort was all the Eagles had needed to change the tide of battle. Besides, it was single combat she hungered for. It was the blood of Brigid that longed for the clash of blades she supposed.

She had counted almost ten minutes exactly when he strode in, clad in all black, practice sword already in hand. Patches of fresh dirt still clung to his gloves and cloak as he readied himself opposite to her. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He said, testing his sword with a few slashes. 

“That is being fine, professor.” Already, Petra surveyed his stance, his grip, and his body for weak points. He seemed almost lackadaisical in how he carried himself. If she didn’t know him, she’d have been slighted by such a lack of zeal. She wanted to see- no, feel the power that the Ashen Demon was feared for, “I hope you are not estimating under me,”

“Quite the contrary, I expect great things from Brigid royalty,” Even if it was idle flattery for one of her station, she had to smile. His respect for her country seemed sincere, something that was woefully scarce in the empire. “Anyways, what are your terms? Points? Disarm?

“Mmmm… something like that. Just be pretending that I’m going to kill you,” Petra smiled. 

Byleth nodded, only half hearing her.

 “...What?” 

Finally, a weakness! Petra lunged for his chest, cat quick. Her father had taught her that tales of glory were fine, but true warriors ended fights as soon as they began. Her opponent was too formidable for that, turning the blow. The surprise on his face was evident as he raised his sword to meet her side swing. She clashed with the blade, before dancing out of the lock to slash at his left, to meet another sweet clash of blades. Petra lived on the offensive. To see the emotions swirling in her opponents eyes as she searched for the death blows always made her feel like the apex beast in a hunt. She made the practice sword sing tales of Brigid’s valor as she cut, slashed and stabbed at his defenses.

Every one of her blows was checked, though each step backward was a step closer for Petra’s own victory. She growled for every impact that missed its mark, trying to see in his eyes the moment he slipped up.

Try as she might, she couldn’t find it. Every glimpse she could catch between clashes was a cold, steely glare that bit back as hard as the dull throb in her muscles that grew with each parried blow. There was no zeal there, no confidence, no fear, nor any other heated emotion, only a cold dread set in a permanent scowl. 

She heard the cut coming before she saw it, raising her blade to catch the blow. The impact of it made her wrists ache and her knees buckle, and that was only the first of his flurries. She hadn’t even noticed the moment she lost the advantage, but she could feel it slipping farther and farther away as he hammered at her defenses. A heavy blow to her left flank suddenly vanished to a thrust, hastily dodged. As the fatigue set in, she knew the duel to be lost. Professor Eisner was bigger than her,  his blows stronger, and did not lack for speed either. Each blow tore at her defenses like a chisel to stone. By all rights she should yield, but a warrior of Brigid never backed down. 

Just as she thought that, she felt her parry move up too slow, his swing coming straight for her neck. At that moment she closed her eyes, time slowing down as her body recoiled from the imminent blow. Yet it didn’t come. When she opened her eyes, the wooden blade was mere centimeters from her neck, the shallow breadth between skin and edge as cold as real steel. 

“The day is mine.” He said, pulling the training blade away. Just like that, the demon was gone, replaced with the stoic, cool teacher that had been there before her duel.

“I… I am conceding.” Petra said, dropping her shoulders in defeat. She wasn’t used to losing, let alone with such ease, the last time she had lost in the training field was against Edelgard, and she still looked back at the first loss with shame. How stubborn she was to think she could defeat the heavily armored style of Adrestian royalty. Though even those bouts with Edelgard were closer than this…

Professor Eisner, though armored lightly, fought with an impenetrable defense of his own, and never sacrificed his strength for it. In Brigid, there was a saying that the sword became part of the warrior’s arm. With Professor Eisner, he became the sword. His body moved like an arrow, his stance was as strong as newly-forged steel, and his eyes all cold iron with the edge to match.

Thankfully, those eyes of his had softened - as much as they could - back ocean-blue pools. 

“You fight like a tempest, as expected of Brigid royalty. Though from your halfhearted defense, I can tell you aren’t used to losing.” As always, he got to the quick of it. Petra swallowed her pride and listened. Even after the humbling experience of being a hostage, such forthright criticism still seared even as it healed. “The long and short of it is that you cannot fight as if every enemy will be awed by your style, as mighty as it is. I myself have seen it before.”

“You are having experience against Brigid warriors before then?” Petra asked.

“Quite a bit. There used to be a man in our company, Half-Brigid, Half-Dagdan. Taught me the basics of the sword after I hounded him. He used the same phrase in the Brigid-Dagdan tongue when we sparred.  

“Oh?” Petra asked, her interest piqued.

“Téigh trasna ort féin. I haven’t the faintest Idea what it means.” 

Petra laughed, harder than she had in a very, very long time. “Perhaps it is being good if you keep not knowing!” Petra giggled, “Nor should you repeat such things to me or Edelgard.”

“I figured it was bad,” If she squinted she might have saw his lips curl upward

“Is this warrior still living?” Petra asked.

“Yes, actually. I believe he used his earnings with the company to purchase a brothel in Deirdriu. He is said to be very happy, last I heard,”

Petra furrowed her brow at the foreign word “A brothel… that is meaning what exactly?”

“Perhaps that too is best left unlearned.” 

Petra laughed again, though the sound slowly died as a new thought crossed her mind. He fought well too well to only know the style from one man. “...You have slain Brigid warriors then, Professor.” 

He stared up for a moment at the blue sky, as if trying to remember a hazy memory. “ I’m afraid I have… Yes, it must have been retaking Nuvelle’s territory. I had a few close calls that day.” He turned his eyes back to her, “Does that bother you?” 

To a small extent, it did. As Brigid’s crown princess, the death’s of her countrymen were to be remembered and avenged, yet at the same time she knew it was only his job. It was yet another lesson hard learned. Many times during her visits to the capitol she had seen Duke Bergliez out in the open smiling with his sons. How her heart burned to cut his throat, and his sons with him. He had killed her father after all, and he would rest better with Bergliez dead, even if she went to rest with it. Still, she couldn’t have imagined wishing the same pain on Caspar now that she’d met him.

“In… small feelings,” She admitted. 

Professor Eisner hummed, the closest sound he made to a chuckle “Good. It’d be cruel if you didn’t feel for your countrymen.” He said, and Petra was grateful for that. 

By the time they had finished, the evening meal was close to ready. As tired as she was after the bout, her stomach absolutely roiled with hunger. 

Professor, would you… ah… would it be..” Blast! Why did Fodlan invitations have to be so complicated!? ”Would it be… pleasing to you… to be having dinner with me? Dorothea would be being present as well,”

“Hmmm… That’s the second invitation I’ve declined from a princess today. I’m already eating with Jeralt tonight, and then we’ll spar. Maybe I can win for once.” 

“I see…” Petra said. It made sense for Edelgard to ask Professor Eisner to attend her, and perhaps it would have been wise for her to let the heir-apparent have priority over her, but it still made the competitive side of her envious all the same. She supposed it was some small comfort to hear that family came before royalty in his eyes.

“That is being fine. I am wishing you a good meal and a good victory.” She said,

Petra only had time for a short wash, for the bath house was busy (as it always was until the wee hours of night) and she was already running close to late. Thankfully she made it in time.

 The dining hall food was very delicious, and the cooks always had a wide assortment of meals made to order. Still, she did miss the flavors of Brigid, and all the spices that came with it. Thankfully, they were serving spicy fish tonight in addition to the mainstays.

“Good evening Dorothea, Good evening Edelgard!” Petra said as she sat down. Edelgard’s presence was surprising, but not at all unwelcome. Given that she too had been her dinner invitation declined, it made sense for her to be there.

“Good evening Petra!” Dorothea said. “We just got here ourselves. Edie’s a bit down in the dumps, Professor Eisner declined her dinner invitation…” 

Edelgard sighed. “I am not ‘down in the dumps’, Dorothea. It was a simple scheduling conflict, and if anything, it reflects better that he honors his familial ties before my station,” Petra was not surprised to hear a similar form of thought from Edelgard, that was part of why she liked her so. Edelgard kept her emotions close to the chest, but Petra for one thought that she used her fork with a bit more force than necessary.

“Oh yes, I’m sure.” Dorothea said, a smile curling on her glossy lips “Alas, if a princess gets turned down cold, what chance does a bedraggled ragamuffin like me have? Ooh! Unless he is into bedraggled ragamuffins!” Petra chuckled at the joke, most people in Fodlan were strangely quiet when it came to talks of romance, especially when women and nudity were paramount. She remembered the Duke Gerth’s wife being particularly mortified when she learned Petra had been swimming bare in the sea.

 Edelgard huffed, but even she couldn’t hide her reddening cheeks, especially with her fair features “ Be that as it may, I’m sure Professor Eisner can make plenty of time in the future to entertain our invitations. “

“Well, he didn’t seem very taken with my charms either. Just stared at me with those eyes of his… they’re rather unnerving if I say so myself. He’s certainly a hard man to please,” Dorothea had complained to her how unnerving his gaze could be, but Petra did not mind the feeling of his gaze, it only made her want to wear the pride of her homeland for him to see. 

“He has been being a warrior for his whole life, yes? Perhaps that is the way to understand him,”

“Yes, a peerless warrior, with no station or crest to speak of.” Edelgard said, closing her eyes in thought. “Simply fascinating. We’ll each have to see just what pleases him… Oh not like that Dorothea!”

1st of Garland Moon 

Even back at Garreg mach, the taste of victory still clung to his tongue, though he never much cared for it. A near flawless victory, on their first mission no less. Of course spirits would be high, and confidence as well. He needn’t be strict now, just simply let his students savor the taste of victory. For him, victory never washed the metallic taste of reality that clung to his tongue. Already, he had to prepare for next month’s mission, and that started with assessing the strengths and failings of his students so that they could save their own lives this time. 

Thankfully. He hadn’t needed the Time’s Pulse for any grave injuries. Hubert had reconnoitered their positions prior to their arrival, and he had been right on the mark, down to the rubble on the ground. Though the man hardly spared anything but a venomous smirk his way, he was one of the most talented strategists he had met. He and Edelgard commanded a presence together on the battlefield that he had only seen in the most elite and synergistic of regiments.  Top marks for the both of them.

He knew an awful lot about their positioning and behavior. Is that not suspicious? Byleth thought on Sothis words for a moment. It was true that Hubert had been eager to support him, and neither eagerness or supportiveness (except to his liege) were traits characteristic to the callous mage.

Kostas tried to cut down his liege lord. Hubert must have prepared his reprisal from the moment he heard the news. 

Fair enough, I suppose. Sothis trailed off, adding a small huff to indicate just how she truly felt. She had been rather testy since their visit to the Red Canyon, and if Sothis was testy, he invariably felt the same. It had been a strange place, that filled him with a strange mixture of anxiety and nostalgia

The rest of the reports went smoothly. There was a common thread he noticed in the Eagles. Unlike common mercenaries who were experienced, yet untrained, his charges were impeccably trained, yet lacking in field experience. Ferdinand was a deft hand with the spear and inspired confidence in his men. ‘A confidence that borders on vainglory’, he added into the margins

Bernadetta was a nervous wreck, but somehow her arrows seldom failed to reach her target. Perhaps the chaos of battle and the chaos that was Bernadetta canceled themselves out. Though he could hardly put that in as a comment.

Linhardt blanched at the very smell of blood. For one such as Linhardt, the only way to get used to the chaos of combat was the hard way, though attending lectures on time would help. Still, his healing know-how was integral to their victory, especially in supporting Caspar’s reckless regiment.

On that note he added to Caspar’s evaluation “Scars are not trophies. They are warnings.”

That left Dorothea and Petra. Dorothea had surprised him with her knowledge of Black magic, and surprised him more with her willingness to use it. He had thought the protege of Manuela herself would have followed in her clerical arts. It seemed that, though she clearly cared not for the violence, she knew the reality of their position and saw through her people. Byleth did notice her hands shuddering at her side as Linhardt healed one of her subordinates. Perhaps he could put in a word with Manuela about teaching her the healing arts, though their usual dalliances left little room for a quiet word. 

That left Petra. In truth Petra’s swordsmanship was stellar, the mettle of her blade only matched by her zeal. Perhaps it was only natural for princesses to be high contenders on the battlefield, she fought as if it were as natural as hunting, never fearing, never faltering. Still, she seemed to have a stubborn will to prove herself, it was part of what he respected about her, but also part of what would get her killed if she burned too bright.  

“You are feeling much consternation, yes?” Byleth hadn’t even heard Petra walk into his office, let alone notice her standing in front of his desk. 

Looking up at her, he saw the curious glint in her sharp eyes. They seemed to move subtly around the area, trying to scan the area like a bird of prey. 

“No, I’m doing rather fine.” He said. “What brings you here?”

“I was preparing to train. I saw light from your office, and was hoping you could be freeing yourself to join me?” 

Perhaps a few drills would do him and Petra both well; in their training sessions and talks, he found far more similarities in her than he’d have thought to find in a foreign princess. Their preferred love language of the sword being one of them. “I suppose I can make the time, once I finish what’s on my plate.”

“Your plate? But I am seeing no plate… Ah, another Fodlan saying,” She said, before pulling out her notebook to write it down. “And what is ‘on your plate’ Professor?” 

“Performance Evaluations. Yours right now, in fact.”

Petra’s lips curled into an excited smile. “Truly? Since I am here, why not reveal to me what you are writing?”

Byleth turned the paper and slid it over to Petra. Her eyes went to and fro scanning his scrawl, mouthing the words under her breath. She was a surprisingly fast reader, all things considered. 

“Hmm! I am honored to be given such fine praise! This is making me very happy!” Petra said, sliding back the document. Her eyes, sharp as ever, caught onto another document as she slid hers back neatly into place. “Is that one being… Edelgard’s? Quickly her eyes blazed through the lines and comments he made across the rubric. Each line slowly chiseled her smiling face into a contemplative frown. “Her marks appear to be being perfect,”

“Exemplary, not perfect.” Byleth watched her lips parted, and then shut as she looked for the right words to say. “So is Edelgard being better than me?” Petra asked. It was a blunt question, and as far as he was concerned, blunt questions were best met with blunt answers.

“In this instance, yes. Edelgard’s command of her battalions was pivotal in our victory, as was her ironclad positioning. You were formidable, but her gambit proved more pivotal to our victory.”

Thankfully, Petra hardly flinched at such steely criticism. She simply thought, tilted her head, and thought again., trying to find the right words to say.

“How can I… be growing stronger?” 

“Practice.” The answer came by instinct. It was the answer he’d gotten from Jeralt as a boy, and if he were to ask this very night, the answer would be the same. 

“But how can I be growing stronger… with more alacrity.” She asked. “How can I be as strong as the Ashen Demon?” She asked, walking to peer through the window. Even though she was a few arms lengths away, her stare seemed to be leagues away from the both of them. 

“Ah.” He said, trying to think of just what to say. How could he best tell her that was not the strength that she needed?

She’s a princess, remember? Perhaps it's best to tell her you’re stumped. You’re not as smart as she thinks you are, after all.

That sounded agreeable enough to him, scathing comment aside “I imagine you are looking for the strength Brigid needs. That I know nothing of. Ashen Demons make strong mercenaries, but not much else.”

“I see…. How did you know I was thinking of Brigid?” Petra asked

“I often catch you staring far away. Where else would you be looking?” 

“Yes, you are being correct, as always.” Petra said, the smile coming back. Her hand stroked through her braid, ending to fiddle with a lock of hair. Your eyes are sharp like the hawk. You would be marked well in Brigid.”

“Marked well?” 

“The tattoos, I believe you call them. Like the one that resides on my face, remember? Men and women gain these marks as they grow. I hope to be receiving many on my return to Brigid. Ah, have I revealed to you the rest of my marks, Professor?”

“I do not believe so.” He said.

“Then let me show you!” Petra's mood soared at the promise of sharing her culture, her fingers quickly going to unclasp the buttons of her blouse.

Oh, this should be good ,

“Petra, perhaps now is not the time for such things.” The risk of creating some scandal on his name or worse, dishonoring Petra’s was too great. 

Petra looked crestfallen, utterly so. “You are not wanting to see them then…”

Now look what you did… she looks like a kicked puppy. Perhaps we should use the Time {ulse, before you break her heart even more.  

Byleth pushed the cackling to the back of his mind, before turning back to Petra.

“My apologies, It’s just not Fodlan’s culture to reveal skin. I was taken aback.” 

“It is being fine, a considerably silly rule I in truthfulness,” Petra said. There was an innocent passion to the way she wanted to share her culture with him of course, but it was hard to see it as innocent as she slipped her blouse off her shoulders, revealing her bare back to him. Byleth had to thank every god or goddess in this world for the ability to Time Pulse, given his office door was open. 

He ignored the strong sculpt of her back muscles, ignored the faint rounding of her breasts visible from the sides, and ignored the dip of her waist that widened into ample hips hidden under a veil of a pencil skirt to focus on the solitary mark in the center of her back. Byleth had seen many tattoos. Rough hewn scratches on brigands to Inky canvases on warriors backs, but he’d hardly seen such a resplendent shade of burgundy before. It looked as if had been newly emblazoned on her skin, but looked as if Petra had been born with it all the same. 

“Fascinating… He said, trying to make some sense of the simple symbol. 

“Petra chuckled shyly as she straightened her back out, “It is the Radiant Dawn, picturing the Sun seated just above the ocean’s horizon. It is a mark of my royal lineage. I have worn it for as long as I can be recalling. It is being strange that clothes in Fodlan aren’t cut to be showing it!” Petra said, A cool breeze blew through the half-open window. It felt clement to Byleth but it made Petra shiver. He almost chuckled watching her quickly retreat back into her blouse.

“My apologies, Professor. It is getting colder than I am being used to,” Petra said

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Byleth asked. The lapse in time gave him the chance to consider the expanse of Petra’s homesickness. Petra looked to meet his eyes, letting her gaze answer the complicated question. Her eyes sparkled with life whenever Brigid was part of the conversation. Swirling within the haze of emotions in her eyes was anger, regret, wistfulness, nostalgia; all coming together in one emotion. Homesickness he heard it called. If that didn’t give it away the long sigh did. 

“I had… thirteen years to my name when I left… taken hostage, to be being more honest. It has been five long years since then… I miss it greatly,”

Byleth himself could only imagine. Mercenaries knew no proper home other than the fit of their boots. He remembered beautiful sights, like the rise of sunrise over Fodlan’s Throat, the sighting of the mist-veiled beast in lake Teutates, even the bucolic peacetime in Remire. None of those could have come close to the memories Petra had of her birthplace.

“Is that why you want to be strong? To go home?”

“That is having partial correctness, yes. I want to go home, but with enough strength to be standing tall. I must grow ever stronger if I am to stand up as an equal to Edelgard, either as an ally or adversary. And since she is beating all my marks, then I have much more strength to gain,”

“No need to compare yourself to Edelgard,” Byleth said, neatly putting away his papers “Your strengths and weaknesses can hardly be compared.

She is clearly being your favorite though,” Petra said matter-of-factly. Byleth didn’t quite know what to say to that, She’s right you know . Byleth didn’t quite know what to say to that either. 

“I try not to play favorites, but perhaps I could be more objective in the future, house leader or otherwise.” 

“Could you be telling me of Edelgard’s weaknesses? For constructivity, of course,” Petra added.

Byleth thought for a second, he supposed it would help to hear of her friend’s shortcomings as well. “Let’s see. Flaws… Stubborn comes to mind. Imperious. Prideful. Uptight. Short.” Petra giggled at that, causing him to look up.

“It is nothing. It is just that, if she were here, Edelgard would be being upset to hear this from you,” Petra said. I am glad that you are being blunt with us, even if we are both being royalty.” Her warming smile was back again, Byleth noted. It seemed Petra was even more competitive than he realized. “You wanted to train, correct?”

“Ah, yes! I was saying that. But… I had a thought, Professor. Perhaps we could be resting our muscles and studying in the library.?”

“Hmmm! Wise words. Please, lead the way.”

*

“I did not know that the Kingdom and Alliance were being made so… were made recently,” Petra corrected, running a finger through the small. “It is most astounding that the Empire was even stronger in the past.”

“That it is.” Byleth said. Truthfully he had only recently shown interest in histories. Sothis believed that her memories could be inspired by the histories, but so far it had not proven fruitful. It was interesting though, especially hearing the differing perspectives regarding the Adrestian Empire. From his perspective, the Empire had a noble ideal of unity, but perhaps carried out that ideal with too much zeal. “There does not seem to be much mention of Brigid.”

“That is making sense. Brigid is not known for its scholars, but we are having some education on Fodlan, dating back to our first subjugation. Still, it is most annoying that my country is only being referenced during its wars. We have been most influential in Fodlan’s trade routes.” 

“I would be interested in learning about Brigid. Whatever you find interesting is fine, 

“T-truly?” A subtle blush bloomed across Petra’s features. She seemed surprised at his interest, and he was surprised at how sheepish she seemed. “It might be boring you if I speak too long… I fear that I cannot be speaking beautifully in Fodlan”

Byleth placed a hand on hers, feeling a sudden shudder in her fingers. “I am quite interested. You may not have noticed, but I can be a rather patient man,” 

You should… really work on your body language.  

I was just patting her hand. 

Gah, nevermind…

“Mmmm, I am respecting that,” Petra said, her smile widening. “Please, let me take a deep breath and locate my words…”

*

“So the font of all knowledge comes from a salmon?”

“Oh yes! It is rather interesting. That is why we are all wanting to fish in Brigid.”

Makes about as much sense as some of the scripture, anyways. Quipped a certain disembodied voice in his head. To his surprise Petra laughed on cue. He had said that out loud, or rather, she had made him. 

“You would be losing your head if you said that around the clergy.” Petra chuckled

“Shamir has been fine in that regard so far. What was the Brigid name for the fish?

*

“ A chuisle ” Petra pronounced. It sounded so warm coming from her, like a clement breeze. 

“A… chuisle” He said, it sounded nothing like how it looked in Fodlan’s lettering, but he thought he had the sound of it relatively right. 

“Yes! Petra cheered, clasping her hands together. “It is sounding almost perfect, Professor!” He supposed that was a victory enough. Somehow their talks about histories had turned to the language of Brigid itself, and for once he was on the end of an arduous lesson. It was not unpleasant, though. Petra’s voice rang beautifully in her mother tongue, making it seem like a song. Byleth, however, had a new appreciation for Petra’s slightly rough Fodlan. He’d have a better time speaking underwater than pronouncing the foreign tongue correctly. He turned to look at Petra, focusing hard on rolling his tongue just right.

“A chuisle ” he said. Petra froze up, her tan glowing under the duress of her blush. It was a rare sight to see Petra act so demurely, especially at a word. 

You are the most absentminded heartbreaker I ever hope to meet. Sothis groaned. 

“That is sounding… Very nice professor,”

“Too intimate?” Petra nodded, trying to rub the embarrassment out of her cheeks. 

Petra took a measured breath before answering“ It is meaning ‘My pulse,’ in rough terms. It is being a… romantic term,”

“Oh.” He’d blush if he could. It was only then that Byleth noticed the candle sputtering. The library did not have open windows, so it was often up to torchlight and candles to keep track of time. At present, the candle was barely sputtering over a pool of melted wax. “I suppose it is getting rather late, perhaps we should retire?” 

“So soon?” Petra asked, an almost disappointed tone in her voice.

“Sleep is quite important. For all of us.” 

“That is having sense, I suppose. Could I be asking one more question?” Petra said, brushing a hand past her hair. 

“Go ahead.” 

“ Ar mhaith leat gnéas béil?” Petra asked. He believed it to be a question, but frankly he had no clue what had been said. 

“I have no clue what that means so ‘no’.” He said. Petra chuckled to herself before picking up her books.

“Very well professor. Perhaps I can be teaching you someday.”

15th of Garland Moon

Petra knew it was a dream from the moment the seasalt hit her nostrils. But the intoxicating nostalgia and flavor of it all was too much to care about. She found herself wading through warm waters, the sunset hue sparkling over the water like polished bronze. It lapped over her hips, embracing her lower body like a lover as the sun warmed her from above. 

She could feel the sharp beams of sunlight raining down on her, sending a long-missed tingle through her skin. 

Home.

She danced slowly with the waves, letting her hips roll with the tide’s ebb and flow. The water splashed against her bare skin, the cool beads clinging to her braid, shoulders, and breasts. Memories of how frustrated her handmaidens would be after a long day of her swimming as they slaved over her salty, wet hair washed warmly over her. For a fleeting moment, she wondered where the other swimmers were. There was seldom a day in Brigid that didn’t have men and women basking in the shallows, watching the skiffs and boats drift across the distant seascape. But this was a dream, was it not? It stood to reason that there would be nobody here. Just an empty beach all to herself. Though that was a lonely thought though. Times like these called for passion, and passion called for a strong companion.

A heated gasp escaped her lips when she felt hands grasp her waist. Callused hands, with a corded strength interlocking each finger. 

“Byleth…” she groaned, feeling the heat rise in reaction to his touch. She let her hips gyrate against his rigid form as his grip pulled her against him. Petra didn’t want to turn around just yet, for she’d lose herself instantly in her eyes if she did. She could feel her womanhood’s warming ache grow more and more with every roll of her hips against him, Her breath catching each time she got too bold and their loins kissed. The pride she loved so filled her chest with every groan she elicited from him. 

Her lover knew that she was his and his alone, therefore he wasted no time exploring the exotic curves of her body. He seized her hips and breast with hard hands, claiming her feminine form for his own pleasure, just as Petra had urged him to do. Her heart beat double time each time a finger traced one of her marks, from her arms to her back, and down to the one just under her navel. She did not have this one in real life and never would, for it was the lascivious sign of a mistress. His fingers rolled and kneaded her chest with a cursory ease, yet the effect made Petra’s hunger for him burn around. Just as she thought to see the ocean of his eyes, she felt the grip tighten and her vision whirling as he effortlessly turned her around. 

Her eyes fluttered as his fingers grazed her lips, those made for kissing as well as the pair down below. She could feel her juices run free’ even with her body partially submerged, as Byleth plunged a finger inside her. lapping up a bit of the passionate dew. When he made her feel like this, not even the purest waters to dilute the passion of her womanhood. She looked up, she all but had too, and already she was entranced by the sight of those deep blue eyes. To peer into them felt like sinking into a warm bath. Pure, still water that helped wet her lips against the insatiable thirst in her loins. Those deep pools, usually so calm, rippled with a desire like no other now. She knew what to do then, her hand slid down his toned body, dragging over the ridges and grooves of hard-earned muscle before wrapping around the mast rising out of the water. 

“Ba mhaith liom tú anois” He said, fluently in the Brigid’s tongue. His soothing voice made it a song, making her body shudder against the clicks of his svelte tongue.  Petra melted between the sweltering sun, Byleth’s unbending passion, and the flame stoking in her pussy.

Her fidgeting hands rose from the water, rising to grasp his face. Slick fingers danced across the rough feel of his clean-shaven stubble. She pulled her head closer to hers, until she felt their foreheads and nose touch, spreading a warmth across her whole body down to her submerged toes. The gesture was a very passionate show of affection in Brigid, a feeling even the most hardened of warriors pined for in their cups. She had only ever seen her father do that to her mother, a sight that made his bevvy of paramours green with envy. The heat in her face rose with  embarrassment, passion, and pride every time their noses snuggled together. 

The sunlight seemed to grow brighter and brighter as the ache she felt the ache grow hungrier and hungrier, begging for him to plunge inside of her and vanquish that ache for a. She wanted - no, needed him to fuck her like enemies turned lovers, who know no other love language than the adversarial mettle of bladecraft. Her vision grew hazy from the teary-eyed delight and white light of the sun, breath hitching as she felt him line up with her pussy. The moment of anticipation was like the moment a tempest meets landfall, with Petra dangling helplessly at the precipice of it all. 

She woke up with a  groan, for that had to be the moment she woke up from the reverie… The heat against her hadn’t been her lover’s body, nor had it been the tropical sun. It was simply the furs laden heavy over her body. 

Petra looked blearily out the window, peaking the streaks of magenta that threaded the horizon. The morning meal was still an hour away, if not more. She wondered how much sleep she had truly gotten with such a restless dream. One thing was true, however. The ache had been all too real. Petra slid her hand down to her pussy, whining against her own shuddering touch. Even just clasping her hand against her sex was enough to feel just how sticky and desirous she was for any release. She pulled her hand away, seeing the dew stick to her hand like a cloying syrup. She feared the noise she’d make in this state if she tried to temper the flame inside her.

It wasn’t the first time that these yearning dreams had taken a more intimate direction, and those times she had indulged herself. The problem was that Petra could be rather animated in the heat of the moment, letting her aching groans spur on her movements. 

“I admire your passion, Petra but… girl to girl, perhaps you could… um, indulge yourself a bit more quietly. It was rather early in the morning, and if I can speak candidly it would set me off as well...” Dorothea had said, not unkindly. The diva was far from the usual blushing maid in Fodlan when it came to sex, but even she had been talking in hushed tones with a rosy blush on her cheeks.

For respect for her friend she kept these indulgences as she called them (Which was odd, she had not seen that definition in Fodlan’s dictionaries) to times to herself in an empty bath house after training, or during her rare leisure hours when most around the monastery were busy lazing and chatting in the sun. Right now, not even those teasing touches could help her. Even with her pillow to muffle the sound, the groans from her stirrings were more from frustration than arousal. 

It was not the same heated scenario as her dream. She tried to cradle the sensations and images of her dream, but she’d have better luck holding water in her hands than those elusive feelings.

The second problem was that it was much too cold for Petra to indulge her heat. The cool air over her bare body was bracing, even more than it was in Adrestia. The mountain weather was hard to get used to, even in the warming springtime months. She really should try to wear a nightgown, especially given how brutal Fodlan winters could be, but old habits die hard. The only thing to do now was get dressed, as slipping back under her furs was not a fruitful option. She missed the breathy mobility of Brigid’s fashion as she struggled to button her blouse and squeeze into her skirt. She did her best to drown out the lustful reverie of her dream by thinking of her routine as she clothed herself, allowing herself a single yawn before she left out the door.

Even with her uniform on, the morning chill bristled her skin. It was considerably cooler this morning than it was the last. Petra feared she would never get used to the capricious nature of Fodlan’s climate. Even more frustrating was the ache between her legs. It would abate, of course but only at the most glacial of paces, and only if there were no more risings. She had much she could do to take her mind away from it. Training was always paramount, and early exercise was always a strong beginning to a new dawn. The library was equally as opportune a time. Perhaps work on her composition, though those always proved difficult without Edelgard there to aid her in proper grammar. Hmm… maybe she’d simply take an early morning walk. It was a rest day though, perhaps she could try and take it easy, Professor Eisner would recommend that as well. 

Just the thought of his voice was enough to make her sigh. The feeling of his blazing eyes taking in her bare back was already ingrained in her memory. It had been bold of her to be sure, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t have ulterior motives. Her culture was dear to her, yes. But women of Brigid did not simply disrobe just to reveal their prized marks. Perhaps she should have been forthright that night, and unsheathed her desire for him. But the inkling fear of rejection was sharp enough to curdle that zeal.

As she approached the greenhouse, she could already see two figures sitting at the fishing dock together. Even from here she could see a head of teal and another of flowing white. What were they doing together at this hour? 

“...could sit closer, You’re not likely to fall in.” Petra heard Professor Eisner say, their voices rising as she inched closer and focused her ears. It was an easy task for a skilled hunter like her.

“After a sleepless night, I’m afraid that likelihood might be larger than you think, my teacher. And besides, the fish rather smell…” She said

Petra was of course aware of Edelgard’s admiration for the professor, who wasn’t? But it was a strange thing to see Edelgard - oh what was that expression? - letting her hair down for once. Perhaps it was her eyes playing tricks, but Petra could have sworn that her House Leader nudged a bit closer to her teacher. A distance closer than she’d ever been with him. She could feel an acrid pang in her heart as she watched them, yet she could not bring herself to so much as move. 

“I never imagined that fishing would take so much patience…” Edelgard said, gazing between the still water and back to their professor, letting her gaze linger there. Her posture softened as she looked at him, no doubt seeing something in his good, honest eyes. 

“Indeed. Fun though, if one gets the hang of it.” Byleth answered. His focus was almost entirely on the line and the water, but he still kept his ears open for conversation. “Ah, one moment, I feel something nibbling the line.”

She could tell by the way Professor’s Eisner’s shoulders tensed that he hooked a large one, the silvery strand of fish wire caught the early light for a second as he fought against his catch's strength. Edelgard stood quickly, startled by the sudden tension. 

Petra heard whispers and grunts from afar. Even with her honed ear, she couldn’t quite make out the curt series of question and answer from student and teacher. It was clear from their body language though that all concentration was on the line for an interminable amount of time.

She could hear Edelgard gasp in surprise and Professor Eisner’s body tense as a fish caught the line. As expected, he fished with aplomb as well, letting the fish on the line tire itself out before pulling back with his own strength. The fish leapt out of water, golden scales shimmering in the morning twilight. 

“A… Golden fish? It’s huge too…” Edelgard marveled “How in the world does such a fish come to Garreg Mach?” 

“Spawning season, I imagine.” He said, clutching the flopping fish by the tail. “Can you hand me that club?” 

Edelgard picked up the club carefully, keeping a good distance from the dock’s edge. It was clear to Petra that the Adrestian Princess had a fear of the water. She almost giggled. In Brigid, it would have been farcical for one to not know to swim, let alone the crown princess. However, it was admirable to Petra that she would brave that fear so readily. Still, she only imagined how impressed Professor Eisner would be if it were her next to him instead of Edelgard. Petra was said to be a mermaid in the water, and she knew the rod even better than she knew the sword.

“Is there not a less barbaric way to do this?” Edelgard complained as she handed him the small black club. Even with the distance between them the wet thwack made Petra flinch along with the Adrestian Princess.

Byleth looked at the fish with no small amount of pride. The way his deep blue eyes sparkled seemed to be the closest thing to a smile he had. “Not really.” He answered. “My Father used to punch them. I imagine this is the better option. Do you not think so?” 

It was rare to see Edelgard at a loss for words, her mouth agape with equal parts bewilderment and admiration. “I…yes. Well, the amount you’ve caught is rather impressive aside. Your family is certainly talented in fishing,” Edelgard said, standing to wipe flecks of water off of her. “Umm… I must thank you, my teacher. I didn’t expect you to weather the rest of the night with me,”

 They had spent the night… together? The thought of it seared the jealousy deeper into her heart. Edelgard, the woman she both admired and rivaled, was even her match on the field of romance. Edelgard could deny it all she wanted to with a measured word, but it was clear from the luminescent blush that she was taken with Professor Eisner as well. The heart moved before the mind, just as the sun spirit always outpaced the moon spirit.

Professor Eisner nodded “Nightmares can be terrible things indeed. Just know that I am always available if you need a distraction from them,”

“Well, I certainly won’t try to make it a habit…”

“...These nightmares come often then?” He asked, though it was not truly a question. Edelgard flinched, as if she’d been struck by an unseen blow. 

“You’re very… perceptive, professor,” She said, trailing off. Her hands fidgeted at her side, as if searching for something to hold. With an intake of air she opened her mouth again “I’m afraid it's a rather personal matter. I cannot tell you… Not yet, anyway,” She added. Professor Eisner’s posture twitched, a veritable emotive breakthrough for the man. He wanted to help her, it was clear to see, yet Edelgard von Hresvelg marshaled her heart around the cool ramparts of courtesy and mystery. Honest concern and passion alone were unlikely to reach it.

“Very well. Though if I can be selfish, Please try and get some sleep. You will find fatigue a grave opponent to fight against.”

“Is that an order, my teacher?” Edelgard asked.

“It is a request. As a friend.” He said. Petra could imagine that half-smile he sometimes did

“Oh, and Edelgard? If you are well rested, I would be grateful if you would dine with me. I hear that the fish sandwiches will be fresh tonight.”

“I-I’ll do my best to attend, Professor!” Edelgard said, a newfound earnestness in her voice. Thankfully, Edelgard departed in the opposite direction of Petra’s vantage point, allowing her to leave unnoticed, however sulkily. 

Petra chose to train, striking and stabbing at the dummy with particular force. Even the dull clangs of combat were not enough to drown out her own envy and apprehension. She’d be a fool to try and compete with Edelgard for love, she was sure. House Leader and Professor were kindred spirits, all agreed, and Edelgard was better in all areas that mattered. 

Perhaps not all, Petra believed she had larger, ah, assets than Edelgard where it counted.

To make matters worse, the ache was back, and stronger than ever. Petra never felt anything like it. It wasn’t truly painful, no. But it bit at her, creating a heated, unscratchable itch deep inside her core, only to emanate more frustrating lust. Petra could not even pretend to believe her inexperienced fingers could indulge her. She dropped her sword, focusing on not pressing her fingers against her sex right now, thankfully it was too early for most to start training. Petra needed him to have her, to claim her roughly like a beast in heat. There was a word for it in the language of Fodlan, wasn’t there that spoke exactly to that need. A need to feel his grip hold her too tight to move as his cock made a woman of her, slaking the hungry maw itching inside her, a desire to feel his own seed melt the heated desire in her with a rushed urgency, throwing all consequence to the wind. What was that word…

Fucked! That was the word! Petra needed to get fucked . Just the thought of the word was enough to make her thighs rub together. Petra took a deep breath, fighting against the impending flood of lurid visions in her mind.

Perhaps she should be bold, even reckless tonight. Professor Eisner, no… Byleth found her beautiful, she was sure. Even just one night would be enough to quell both her yearning and heartache. 

Petra steeled her nerves and marshaled her courage. She would need both for this… new type of duel.

*

The fish had been quite delicious even he had to admit, and the dinner itself was just as enjoyable if not more. They had spoken on many things, though he did more listening than speaking as always. Topics ranged from his fighting styles, their parents, various details of Enbarr’s palace, and simple talk about animals. Edelgard seemed to adore cats, to his surprise.

After such a hearty meal, an evening walk was the perfect thing. Even Edelgard had to admit the beauty of the monastery, especially wreathed in dusklight. “It sits perfectly among the natural beauty of the mountains. In that sense it even puts the Enbarr Palace to shame,” She admitted, before letting out a protracted yawn. 

“Sleep catching up on you?” Byleth asked, the golden light of the waning sunset brought out the flush in her cheeks, a sight he was beginning to enjoy more than he ever thought.

“Perhaps…” Edelgard said.

The sun had finally settled below the horizon by the time they had finished their walk, its orange rays only a lingering finger in the night sky. Jeralt had taught him that a gentleman always walked a lady to the door, and his father’s advice had never done him wrong before.

“That was… well, it was very fun professor.” Edelgard said, I believe that I will find no need to seek you out like a scared maiden tonight,”

“Of course.” 

“And thank you again, it’s rare for people to reach out as you do. Do know that I appreciate that beyond words,” Edelgard said there was almost a demure edge to her voice, only apparent because of how sweet it felt compared to her usual commanding tones. “Good night, professor.” She whispered before slowly creaking her door closed. 

My, you really do play favorites, don’t you? Sothis spoke, were you expecting more than a farewell?

I just wanted to help her. He replied, trying to keep an even keel on his faults.

Sothis sighed, I can feel them, you know. I didn’t know you could think so romantically! Thinking of what sort of flowers her highness would like? What sort of presents would help her sleep better? Or perhaps how sweet her lips might taste? That thought seemed to peak your interest. 

Byleth grumbled

Yes, grumbling, very gentlemanly of you. 

Byleth ignored the haughty laughter playing in his head, doing his best to ignore the lurid images that Sothis conjured in his head. Images of Edelgard’s lavender eyes alight in lustful anticipation, wrapping a gloved hand tentatively around his cock. Of Dorothea pressing her chest full against his, whispering sweet, heated desires into his ear. Or Petra, rolling her hips against him, a warm purr laced with the heat of her accent and her desires humming through the air. 

Getting worked up, are we? Sothis asked, somewhat redundant. Of course he was getting worked up. Still, he had stronger will than Sothis liked, all her taunts and titillations did was make walking slightly more awkward. He had enough on his plate to keep his mind off those thoughts. He had to prepare the rest of this Moon’s training regimen, the logistics for the march would have to be reviewed, he still hadn’t trained today. ALl of those would provide a different hesitation

By the goddess, you’re a boring one. What stays your hand when you have so many who would throw themselves at you or your bed? You have charisma, mystic power, and you choose not to indulge in that worship? 

You need not abuse your power, but a strong leader should take all gifts from their flock. I would at least know why you don’t. 

Byleth thought about that for a moment. He was certainly no gentleman that was for sure, and he was at an age with most of his students, despite his higher rank. I never knew my mother, but I know my father loved her greatly. I do not know what love feels like, but I know it can’t be found in one night of passion.

Hmmm. Sensible, if stupid reasoning. Sothis said. Though I would say there is no need to deny your instincts. You are mortal, no reason to pretend not to be.

Perhaps. Byleth relented.

He had just came to his door when he heard the voice

“May I be giving you a question?”

Byleth turned around to find Petra standing there rubbing her arm in anticipation.

“Of course and always.”

“You are liking Edelgard,” Petra said

That was the second accusation tonight, and this one from someone whose opinion he trusted. Byleth thought for a moment, and then a moment longer pondering the value of that word. Love was something flowery and ethereal was it not? Something out of an idyllic life far removed from him. 

“I am afraid that is not a question.”

“Ah, I should say, are you liking Edelgard then?”

“That is better. If I had to think of a word myself, I would say I admire Edelgard, perhaps even envy. Aside from her intellect, strength, and charisma, I admire her ambition. Living any other way but day-to-day survival is still new to me, it just feels heartening to see such indomitable momentum.” He said

“Hah, I see. Petra said, chuckling, though Byleth thought that there was a bitter note towards the end. “I am admiring that about her as well, she is being far better than I in that regard. But… I too can be ambitious, is that not so?” 

Byleth felt something pang when he saw the expectant, intimate look in her eyes. Petra seemed to have thrown all subtlety aside for passion now, and she had found the best time to press that advantage. Sothis was right, he had thought something more passionate with Edelgard, how could he not. But he knew she was far from ready to even begin to entertain such intimacy. Petra was no doubt strong, willful, inspiring, and beautiful. However, he did not feel that very same pang for her, only desire. That was not fair to her.

“You admire me Petra.” He said

“That is not the form of a question, Professor,” Petra said, with a coquettish smile.

“I know.”

Petra sighed, seemingly marshaling both her words and her courage.

“I… am wanting you, as a woman does a man.” She said, “But I am not being inside your heart in the same way…”

A short silence passed it, but the lapse felt like wading through the ocean. It should be a simple thing to reject her, they both knew the ways it would not work, but even a man who cut down warriors by the dozen couldn’t hurt a single lovelorn girl.

If you are admiring me, a-and you are finding me beautiful… we can be riding together, or rather together, we can be riding?” Petra asked, filling the silence. Even fumbling through her words, Byleth was no stranger to the dripping yearning heavy on her tongue. Petra’s usually keen eyes were almost tremulous in anticipation, wide with excitement, and utterly gleaming with desire. It took no words in either Fodlan, nor Brigid-Dagdan to tell him that. 

It was a clumsy, if earnest pass for desire, perhaps too spurred on by the heat of the moment. He could not give her what she wanted, a true lover who could fill her with those little tokens of love the same way a passionate kiss did. He was not that kind of man, nor would he ever be. The man he was, however, couldn’t help but be aroused at the sight of a foreign princess, the heir-apparent no less, all too ready to give herself to him. 

Byleth’s dominant hand twitched at his side for a moment, before slowly sliding up the other to cup Petra’s face. The steadfast princess melted into the touch, nuzzling her cheek into his hand. Sothis was right, he had to work on his body language. Byleth didn’t know if he pulled her in closer, or if Petra took the step all on her own, but the distance between them had disappeared in that instant. To any potential passerby, it would be a blatant scandal, one that he.

“Petra, I must be honest with you. I don’t have that sort of love for you. I-”

“I am not wanting that sort of love! I am wanting… I want you…” Petra said, before closing her eyes and crashing his lips against hers. The beginnings were as passionate as they were ponderous, her lips pushing impatiently against his as they smacked together. Still, Byleth guided her where she needed to go. Slowly her pushes and prods grew slower and sensuous, letting the heat, wetness, and air between them fill the lapses in each taste. He felt the hunger in Petra’s kiss every time she sucked at his lower lip, impatient to indulge herself in his own lusts. 

She would have to wait for a bit longer however. Byleth slowed their kiss, before ultimately pulling away. He could hear the moan of dismay humm through her lips as he did so.

“Whatever your feelings may be, perhaps we could discuss them somewhere private.” He said. The kiss, however clumsy, had awakened something in him.

“The bath house!” Petra breathed, without a second thought. I want to be hearing the water if we… mmmn…” Her thighs rubbed together with the same fervor she bit her lip with. 

The ladies bath house, I assume? Not exactly the most uninhabited of spots, but that might make it fun. Even at this time of night, it was not uncommon for late night stragglers to come into the bath house for a quick dip, and the pristine water flowed through continuously for that reason. Luckily as they neared it, the only sounds to be heard was the wind, and the continuous flow of water. 

As they entered, Petra suddenly seemed to have an idea. She took the heavy chain that closed off the bath house for maintenance and clasped it into the lock.

“But you don’t have a key?” Byleth asked. To that, Petra only let out a sultry giggle.

“People will be assuming that it is locked. Such subterfuges are most useful in hunting as well,”

“Hmm! Smart girl.” Byleth said. That little praise seemed to make Petra all the more excited. 

Even the bath houses of Garreg Mach held an extravagance and majesty. White marble column encircled the center communal bath, a long pool as big as any pond that Byleth had scrubbed himself in his mercenary days, though the water didn’t steam and shimmer in those murky ponds. The torchlight alcoves between pillars provided plenty of smaller baths, no less pristine, for them to run to. Even though it was the twin to the men’s amenities. The women’s bath house felt much more… put together for lack of a better term. Perhaps that was only his imagination, but he’d savor the feeling. Byleth doubted he would make a habit of frequenting the women’s bath house.

“We must be taking off our clothes before we are, ah, swimming, yes? Petra said. Even with her unique speech. Byleth could hear the bawdy, irreverent tongue of one Dorothea Arnault in that entendre. 

Even in the haste of her undressing, Petra moved mesmerizingly. Her fingers undid the strained buttons on her blouse, with Petra sighing at the newfound relief each pop granted. Watching Petra try to shimmy out of her skirt was a wonder in itself. Not only was the ample outline of her hips and rear made apparent, it was also a miracle she could get the garment on every morning. That too was thrown to the side, revealing the curvaceous, toned sculpt of her body. Petra wore her nudity with a unique grace. Her bare skin itself was like the most radiant of raiments. Both the efforts of her laborious training and the fruits of womanhood stood in sharp relief. Toned, musculature naturally transitioned softly to feminine curves, and there were no lack of places for him to feel and hold onto. Perky breasts hung freely, and even just the sight of her hourglass frame gave evidence to the plush springiness of her flesh

Petra’s beauty gave risings to… risings. The steam billowed around her as she waded into the water, hips swaying invitingly. The warm waters lapped up over her hips as she turned around, smiling almost wantonly at him. “Aren’t you going to be undressing, Byleth?”

Comparatively, Byleth did not make a show of undressing. Simply throwing off his shirt, britches, and boxers unceremoniously and letting the heavy beat between his legs hang there as he stepped into the pool. Petra’s eyes were glazed with desire. He could feel the focus of her gaze over his body from head to toe, and particularly partways between.

In her excitement she wanted to meet him halfway.  He could feel her chest press against him, the soft nipples standing to attention against the friction. He gazed down as his hands wandered instinctively to waist and hip. Her fiery eyes were two pools, steaming with desire. The whirlpool of emotions in them did nothing to wash away the primal lust there. Petra gasped as his cock throbbed between them, standing ready and poking dully against her navel. 

“I am at the loss of words… Petra marveled, her hand attempting to wrap around his cock. She pumped him further with wet fingers, gasping yet again as his cock rose further. He was far from an expressive lover, at least vocally. To show his enjoyment he reciprocated the touches, grabbing a handful of Petra’s mountainous rear. To that she let out an outright groan. Far from the measured, airy moans from a common maiden. Petra made her pleasure known in an instinctive, husky fashion.

“seo buailimis craiceann” Petra said with an uncharacteristic grace. Byleth had not the faintest idea what such words meant, but the effect was immediate. Fodlan’s tongue simply couldn’t hold the misty passion in Petra’s voice, but her native Brigid rolled sensually off her tongue, heating the steamy air between them. Petra’s fingers, having finally found some comfort with his size, fastened themselves around his length, trying to find the easiest way to put it inside her. She pressed the cock just under her sex, trying to spear it inside her in one push, yet it to no avail. Everything was too slick, from Byleth’s cock to Petra’s pussy and the steamy air in between. All the hasty effort did was slide him past Petra’s glistening pearl and through her sturdy thighs, earning aching groans from the both of them. 

“Petra, If I may.” He said. Petra managed a nod. Byleth sank his hand lower down her leg, feeling fingers sink into the warm water. He pressed her in close with his free hand, before lifting her, hooking his arm under Petra’s leg. Petra gasped as he hoisted her leg up from the hot waters. Now, there was a clear shot at her glistening entrance. On instinct he brought his fingers to her petals to ready her, but even the first touch against her entrance coated his fingertips in a heated, syrupy desire. Petra moaned dangerously, her breath hitching as her hands hooked around his shoulders for purchase. Sensitive, Byleth thought. 

For a moment he wondered how long she had wanted this. Had such feelings blossomed that morning, or had his presence always conjured a womanly ache in her. He had half a mind to plunge himself in then and there and fuck Petra as if she were some amorous tavern slattern. But he had to remember that this was her first time. A princess’ first time no doubt. He had heard stories of how much nobles valued their first times. It was to be their husband’s, it meant they were pure, or some other such drivel.

But that was enough thinking for the night. It was high time he fucked his first Princess.

“Hold still.” he ordered. Petra shuddered, yet did as she was bade. Even on one foot, she stood firm, trusting the strength in his grip to keep her suspended amidst the reverie. She placed a hand on the pool’s edge as Byleth pressed his lengthy cock against her petals. He took a moment there to let Petra collect herself, feeling the ravenous way her pussy sucked at him between her virgin folds. 

“A chuisle…” Petra cooed sonorously, just before Byleth pressed into her pussy. The heat that washed over him as his cockhead pressed in was searing, sticky, and snug all at the same time. Such a heat made the steaming baths around them seem tepid by comparison. Petra gasped, feeling her tight wall slowly pried apart by his cock. The muscles in her thigh tensed for every inch he fed into her royal pussy. Petra had fight in her, even as he claimed her. A bit of sharp pain was nothing to the battle-ready woman, but Byleth could feel the convulsive tremors in her pussy as she tried to grit her teeth against her own climax. Mentally Petra was in an eye-rolling haze, but physically she took him better than any other woman he’d had. Though her pussy squelched for every inch that rolled into her, it still sucked and clung to him with a fervent strength. He slowed himself for just a second to let her catch her breath. Petra’s gasps trailed off with a whimper, as if she was disappointed in him stopping.

“More?” He asked. Petra’s body answered even before she gave an unsteady nod. The heat in her loins threatened to melt him but he held on, reshaping her walls. Byleth hummed in approval. He pushed his remaining inches inside her with a hard shove, making Petra moan in her own songbird tongue. 

Even as her eyes watered with overflowing lust, Petra still stared at him with a burning arousal in her eyes. She spoke to him with a very physical need, a lust in her eyes, a roll of her hips and, and a squeeze of her loins. He was never good with emotions, and likely never would be. But he understood what her womanhood needed at that moment. With some difficulty, he pulled out of her sopping pussy, making the steam billowing from under them feel cool by comparison. His cock was drenched in her nectar, stickily clinging to him like fresh sap on a tree trunk. He dug his fingers firm into the supple feel of her thigh, the other grabbing a handful of her hip before thrusting into her again, watching her beautiful brown breasts bounce. 

“Tha !” Petra cried, repeating the word with ramping passion for every hard thrust into her. He fucked her without hesitating or holding, back and Petra enjoyed herself more for it.

She feels good. He thought in his head. She felt amazing to tell the truth, perhaps that was fitting for a princess.

Mmmm, that she does. Sothis cooed, basking in the pleasures that ran through them every time he bottomed into Petra. His eyes wandered across her body, watching her braid jump, her hips shudder, and her eyes roll. 

His hand seized a bouncing breast as he fell into the claiming rhythm of roll, thrust, and pull. A dull beat accentuated by the bounce of Petra’s ample hips and rear against his loins. 

“Byleth…” Petra groaned, desperately trying to muster the strength to push up and kiss him. 

“Moan for me.” He ordered, hilting himself hard inside Petra. Petra followed through to the letter on his order, groaning in almost guttural fashion as her head snapped back. Even as her pussy roiled and shuddered she held on. He was impressed to say the least. It felt good to find someone as receptive as they were resilient. 

“Good.” He met her halfway, using the arm around her back to pull her back and reward her with a kiss. The cool droplets on her breast coalesced with beads of sweat as they squished against his chest. Their tongues dueled together coiling and tumbling around each other like deadlocked beasts. He could feel the tremulous moans and breaths humm out of her. Petra was close, and he was far too incensed in the physicality of it all to grant her a ladylike climax. He only had to brace himself for the increased pressure in her already tight pussy. He did not think he’d have too much difficulty pulling out of her, not physically at the very least, and if he didn’t… Well that was simply one of the benefits of the Time’s Pulse. 

The scandal of their union only just dawned on him. He, a common mercenary, was fucking the Brigid’s crown princess insensate, this being her first time no less. The thought might have blanched a lesser man at the thought of the consequences, or perhaps the thrill would be enough for one’s excitement to overflow and spill inside her. Byleth only found a sweet amusement in it all, savoring the taste of their illicit coupling.

He had just enough reach holding Petra to grab hold of her ample rear. His calloused fingers dug into the pert, sinfully soft flesh of her ass, causing the Brigid Princess to purr as her pussy melted around his member. Though there was no lack of heat in the steaming baths, he could feel Petra’s body begin to shiver against him.

Petra came, eliciting a flurry of foreign gasps and moans. Though the words were foreign to him, her body language was more than enough to signify her coming climax. Petra seized up around him, hard as a tourniquet. She lost her footing then, nearly falling if it weren’t for Byleth’s hand seizing her leg and holding her suspended on his cock. Her body bounced and shivered as if riding him in the air. Her legs and feet laced into a veritable sailor’s knot around his back. Whether conscious of it or not, it was clear to Byleth that her body desperately tried to coax his seed out of him and fill her with lush, silvery life. Byleth had to grit his teeth; his only choice was to weather the onslaught. Waves of sweet brine submerged his cock as the rest of her sucked him deeper in. 

Even as the grip around him waned, he still had to endure a few close-calls. The guttural grunts and gasps from Petra incensed him, even moreso when she gasped his name amidst a flurry of incoherent Dagdan. Still, all the excessive pulses and throbs only made him harder, hungrier for more. 

There was a small scare when he pulled his cock free of her, glistening in both sticky quim and a white cream, but that was only the fruits of Petra’s pleasure.

“tá sin dochreidte ar fad… I mean… hah… I am not finding the Fodlan words…” She gasped, as Byleth slid them into the water. The heat of it would have been soothing, were it not for the throbbing lust in him dulling all his other senses.

I- you are still so… Petra’s shock slowly turned into a sanguine smirk… “Even after deflowering Brigid’s heir, You are still wanting to ravish me?”Her hands waded through the hot water to grab his hard member. 

“Perhaps. Mercs are an unruly bunch.” 

Petra giggled sweetly, sinking into the warmth of the water. “May I be cleaning your sword?” Petra asked, nuzzling her pretty face against his cock. How was he supposed to say no to that? Byleth nodded. Stroking a hand through her hair. 

Petra started slowly, priming herself for the task that was to come. Eyes gazed hungrily at his cock as she stroked it, trying to gauge whether she could fit the length of him down her throat. The Brigid Princess was nothing if not headstrong though. She slid down his cock first with a hungry ease, enveloping the base in a sticky heat once again. Instinctively her lips formed an airtight seal around his cockhead, slurping up what remained of precum and her own essence besides. Peta did not stop either, pressing herself lower down his cock, inch by inch. He could feel her tongue trace the throbbing vein as she slid her way down, moaning all the way.

Her tongue swirled around him like a humid breeze, deft and cloying. Petra’s hips swayed invitingly from just over the water, wiggling excitedly for each inch she sank down. All her focus seemed to be in the act, treating it as dutifully as any order he gave her battalion.  

“Good…” He said. Such simple praise worked wonders on Petra, smiling at him under low-lidded eyes, a gaze that glittered with pure, unadulterated passion. Inexperience only added to the slurry savor as Petra bobbed up and down as much of the length as she could. Even now, she challenged herself to dive deeper down the base valley of pleasure. He could tell how far her limits though, it was quite clear from both furrowed brow and the increasing strain down her gullet. 

Hey, why not take the reins? Sothis’ query was followed by his fingers curling around Petra’s pristine, well-kept braid. He could feel the thickness of it, quite a sturdy thing indeed. Petra was daring, hungry, eager to please him. However, would she really feel comfortable with him wresting force from him? This was not some duel, this was lovemaking. On the other hand, Petra did love her duels…

Good Idea. Byleth said. Willfully, one hand made its way behind Petra’s head, clasping around the root of her braid. The pressure he exerted was not forceful, but it still urged a warning of control over the girl, pushing her down slightly past her limit. Petra’s eyes shot open in wide-eyed surprise. She looked far more doe-eyed than usual, but he could see a distinctive purr glint through her eyes as he pressed her down a few inches more. Byleth almost smiled watching her slowly move her hands away from the base to instead brace herself against his knees, letting him have control of her.

Control he was quick to wrest from her. Byleth slowly pulled her back off his cock, admiring the slick sheen left in her wake. He could feel the exhale of her deep breath as she readied her mind and throat for what was to come. The braid felt firm, yet pliant in his hand, using the elegant hairstyle as a carnal lead to bob her up and down his shaft. If there was any pain, Petra didn’t mind it. If anything, the shallow sting of her roots being pulled excited her. Her eyes closed in abject pleasure, letting herself sink down with his clenched fist down his cock. He watched her descend, lips slipping past the sticky mark of her progress before her throat began to strain. Their eye contact didn't break for a second, even as her eyes watered trying to keep him snug in her throat. 

Byleth finally pulled back, a groan forced out of him as she dragged her tongue down the base. The second pull was faster, but no less hard. He pushed her further this time before pulling out. The third was both harder, farther and faster. Petra clenched her eyes as Byleth gagged her on his cock, her breaths out her nose were hard puffs of air, and her cheeks grew flush from steam and strain alike, but Petra still refused to back down. 

“So this is what a royal mouth feels like.” he mused. Petra moaned into his cock hearing his husky voice, giving her something of a second wind. He moved his free hand to cup her cheek, bracing her head still as he began to move his hips. He pulled back as far as he could, before making his cock vanish down Petra’s throat. 

“-Gllrk-” Petra gagged, but she held on strong enough

The force of his hips meeting her soft lips bucked her, causing a small splash in the water as her legs shuddered. Byleth made sure to caress her cheek each time he bottomed into her awaiting mouth. Her face was slick with strained tears and slick saliva. Even as battered as she was, Petra took it with pride. 

“Perfect…” Byleth groaned, fucking Petra’s sweet face was enough push even him closer to his peak. His cock pulsed in her throat as her eyes began to widen, the force of his orgasm an immediate threat to her senses. The grip in his fingers tightened hard in her hair as he came, hard enough for him to let out a ragged groan. A thick, potent load primed by the tension of lingering fantasy filled Petra’s throat.

Petra had no choice but to take every volley of his load, not that she would have refused if given control. Audible swallows followed his ragged groans as her lips formed an airtight seal around his cock, locking eyes with him and suckling on the glans to wring out every last drop. Only after that did he let go of her, and only after Petra placed a kiss upon his crown. 

“I hope you are finding this pleasurable,”Petra said. She slowly rose from the water to sit on his lap. Her kisses felt warm and peppery on his bare skin, accented with the sweet press of her womanhood against him every time she rolled her hips. Byleth could feel in their embrace how Petra’s body used him for support. 

“You seem tired,” Byleth said between her kisses.

Petra did not deny the observation, only smiling a wan, yet wanton smile.

“I am just wanting to have you for myself. Men such as you are not free for long…” Petra said before sucking the skin of his neck. 

Byleth chuckled at that “Is that how men have women in Brigid?” 

“It is how men do things in Adrestia. Even I have heard tales of the once-young emperor’s many lovers. For now, just let me be giving myself to you,’”

“You have nothing else to give me,”

“I am possessing one more gift to give you… Petra purred. She slowly slid out of his lap, before wading towards the opposite side of the pool. Byleth swallowed a groan as she watched her bend over in one fluid motion. Her hands slid down her body, over the rolling hills of her hips to pry apart her round ass, revealing a pristine pink hole, a prim contrast to her still sticky pussy. 

“This Princess of Brigid still has one more virginity to plunder…” Petra said, looking at him invitingly. 

It was an lascivious, overconfident, and scandalous move for Petra to make, especially as inexperienced as she was. But the sight of her hips swaying excitedly amidst steam and foam awakened something in him. A dull growl roiled in his chest as he strode over to claim Petra, carnal heat melting his self fastened chains of discipline and goodwill. Petra gasped as his hand seized an asscheek, squeezing the soft, sculpted flesh between fingers. Even with his cock slick with Petra’s own lust, it would prove to be a hard fit for the girl, not that it would stop him in the state he was in.

“Petra, I am going to fuck you. Forgive me if I get too rough.” He ended his warning with a swat of her ass. 

Petra gasped, gripping the pool’s edge harder as her legs threatened to buckle. The sight of one cheek jiggling only stoked the flames inside him. Slowly, he teased Petra’s hole with a thumb, gauging just how tight a fit it would be. It felt like driving a blade through a notch in armor, feeling the resistance only for a few moments before giving way to the mounting pressure. Petra groaned joyously as his thumb slipped in. As he thought, it was absurdly tight, even with just his thumb. The fresh, pristine water helped things considerably; he couldn’t have imagined the pressure and strain if Petra weren’t so ready and their bodies so laden with condensate. As quenching a sight as her shuddering femininity was, he needed her still for this next part.

A hand pressed firmly against her back, squishing her breasts against the slick marble. He hoped it was not too hard, but the gentle purr rolling out of Petra was enough to cast that thought to the side. With the other he lined his cock up with the dewy rosebud, pressing hard against the pleasures. 

Petra sputtered in one part pain, three parts euphoria as he pressed his length inside her. Compared to the sweet nectar of her pussy, her ass was all slick friction. A carnal, combative challenge that he hungered for when the will of the flesh called to him. 

“Halfway there You’re doing well,” He spoke the words softly, as he was teaching the girl a new technique. Petra whimpered as she clung desperately on the precipice of another lofty peak, a grip that grew more tenuous for every inch fed into her narrow strait. He’d never seen Petra so tremulous, so tender, so submissive before. It was an addictive feeling, he had to admit. He could imagine doing the same to a myriad of beautiful women. Dorothea wrapping slender, dancing legs around him, Edelgard shuddering on tiptoes to kiss him as he fondled her body, The archbishop on high now on her knees to worship his cock.

Enough, you’ll ruin my focus.

Very well, I’ll let you enjoy your little power trip. Sothis said, sliding into the back of his mind to enjoy the show.

“Just a bit more.”

“Ooohhh…” Petra groaned, trailing off into an inscrutable string of Brigid. The heat inside her was searing, her insides roiling tight around him as she got close to her climax. Only a few more inches remained, he was quite impressed. Who would have thought a foreign princess and a feared mercenary would be so physically compatible? Byleth made the last few inches of his length vanish with a hard thrust, watching Petra’s lower body jolt in pleasure, before she gave way to the shaky tremors of her womanhood. 

“Byleth…!” She groaned, her tattooed cheek flush against the marble as her eyes rolled. Her thighs convulsed violently against him as she came, forcing him to hold up her hips as he lay sheathed in her. He stroked the tattoos on her back, providing a bit of sweetness to the heat of it all. Both their thighs were splattered with the hard gush of lust from her pussy, marking him with a carnal scent that made his hunger rise.

She finished her orgasm gasping and slurring foreign words, too tired to even move. That did not stop Byleth from continuing his onslaught. The force made her groan breathlessly, leaving just enough time to exhale before the next thrust battered into her. Byleth let out a firm hum as he took his pleasure, cording her braid around his hand to keep her upright. Just the sight of such a full-bodied woman quivering under him would have been enough for any man, from the stormy ripple of her cheeks to the glimpse of her breasts bouncing in place against the marble. 

Byleth, however, was more incensed by the physical prowess and pleasure. He kept good on his word, fucking Petra with with no regret or remorse. The sound of her ragged groans was music to his ears, kept tempo by the slippery, exotic drumbeat of their loins clapping together. The way a low, husky groan could crescendo to a high, singsong, whimper made his cock pulse hard inside her.

On an instinct, he yanked back on Petra’s braid, basking in the pool of lust that were her amber eyes. Her mouth was open, gasping as if in awe of his strength and daring. He hooked two fingers into her awaiting mouth, and instantly did her lips close, suckling the pure water off of his fingers. He could feel the strength in her hips hearten, as she began to roll her hips back against him. Quite the stamina she had, that was something to keep in mind for the future. Petra’s tongue swirled around his fingers as she tasted the salt of his flesh. He pulled his fingers out of her lips with a pop, delegating that hand to roughly squeeze the softness of her rear.

“Say my name,” Byleth ordered, battering her insides.

“Byleetthhh…” Petra said, her tongue lolling heavily out of her mouth as she weathered the hard onslaught against her tight hole. She was rewarded with another sharp pull on her braid, and a hard slap against a jiggling cheek. 

“Again.

“Byleth!”

“Again!”

“ Byleth! ” She cried, a guttural reeling cry that barely registered as his name. 

Petra likely came, he barely noticed her quaking under him as he felt his own orgasm rise. The lead up was a red haze, only feeling his climax build up instead of the rough, quickening slams inside Petra’s ass, his hand braced her shoulder and hip firm, as if he was about to truly seed her. 

He slammed in one last time as he felt his cock prime the first pulse of his orgasm. A hard thrust that let him press his body over her finally let loose a long pent-up load. 

Hard, ragged grunts accented every hard pulse of his cock as Petra’s body froze in place, her insides melting to the heat of his orgasm. Rope after rope of thick cum filled her passage to nigh excess, the rest dribbling out from under his cock. His strength and desire was the only thing holding Petra up as it pulsed inside of her, her toes curled in abject euphoria even as he pulled out of her, letting the seed spill out of her well fucked hole. The remaining shots were used to paint her olive skin with streaks of white. Even as the sense of reason and humanity seeped back into him, he couldn’t help but marvel at the contrast. 

“Haah… Good,” he said. 

Petra managed an agreeable groan, before finally fainting to the exertion and heat.

Oh look, you broke her…

*

Even after a few months, It was still a strange feeling to have a comfortable bed to go back to every night. Soft sheets, a goose-down pillow, and coverlets as heavy as a cloak to warm him. Even strangers were having a bed companion with him. Petra slumbered softly into his shoulder, a tired smile creeping up her lips as she felt. It was nice, but it did stop his usual tossing and turning. Even now she held his arm fervently, a congealing mix of admiration and love for her leader.

That was perhaps a mistake. He thought, closing his eyes for a moment.One one moment of passion he had created a relationship more complex than any other sort of relationship he had before. 

Do you regret it? He opened his eyes to answer, finding himself seated on the enigmatic emerald throne. The dais towered over what looked like ruins, though most of it was wreathed in darkness. 

Sothis floated above him, a wry grin on her face. 

No. He said. Even out of body he could feel the snuggling press of Petra’s body against him, a warm feeling that touched… something in him. In a lurid sort of way, their tryst had made Petra happy and that was more than enough for him.

“Good man.” Sothis said, patting him on his head. “ Exert our power, and you’ll be able to lead your flock to victory… with a few rewards in between,”  

“My flock…” He thought of all of them then. Their talents, they’re flaws, what he admired, and what they would become. It weighed him in the same way as the girl nestled next to him in the real world. Unusual, but warm. 

“I’ll do my best For Petra, for Edelgard, for all of them. He said, before closing his eyes and basking in the warmth.