#cloaked in academic language so it sounds like its more than that. it is not

[oldestmovieieversaw]

crazy to me that whenever pete posts innocuous shit everyone is suddenly a detective and a gender studies professor but when it comes to the very concrete proof that pete abused an underage heroin addict nobody knows anything

[incorrect-koh-posts]

If you search Krol Tredowaty in Polish you mighy find images of Baldwin IV. An early take. Very cool.

Oh, thank you for pointing that out to me! 💛

Have some lovely Baldwin IV cover illustrations for Zofia Kossak's 1937 novel The Leper King (Król Trędowaty):

I'm particularly fond of these two - I think the minimalist art style suits both the subject and our leprous boy quite well, and I like the design the artists chose for his cloak and veil.

I also came across a rather pretty Polish cover for the Bernard Hamilton book:

My version of the Kossak novel (published in Germany in 1964), sadly, looks quite boring in comparison:

And while we're on the subject: I have to admit I rather enjoyed Kossak's take on the events in the Holy Land between roughly 1176 and 1187. Of course, it is very old-fashioned in terms of its writing style, and far from historically accurate - but considering that it was published in 1937, long before most of the decisive academic works we know had been written, I think Kossak nonetheless did an admirable job with presenting the historical events in a way that is both comprehensible and somewhat entertaining. Being nitpicky about the details while having access to almost a hundred years' worth of further research would be a little unfair, in my opinion.

That said, I'm not sure this is the right novel for you to read if you are simply looking for some good sauce about Baldwin, since Kossak's portrayal of him is a bit of a mixed bag. In some instances, her Baldwin resembled the wise, gentle king we know from KoH very closely, but in others, he came across as whiny and wallowing in self-pity, acting much more childish than he should. (Remember: In that time and place, men were considered legal adults at the age of fifteen.) So, what I missed in Kossak's Baldwin sometimes was the inner strength that - according to the chroniclers - he must have possessed in spades. His mother Agnes of Courtenay, by the way, receives a similar treatment and is presented as an overweight clucking old hag, which is, unfortunately, the default characterisation she is given in older historical fiction.

Apart from that, though, The Leper King was a hoot. This may be just my particular brand of weirdness talking - I'm currently writing my thesis about medieval German literature, so go figure - but I unapologetically love those early literary takes on Baldwin & Co. Their differing characterisations of the various historical figures are always fun to compare, sometimes I merely get a good laugh out of them while other times I end up being surprised or even genuinely impressed. This novel, somehow, managed to pair the WTF-factor with moments that I found genuinely heart-warming and dialogue that was by turns either well-written or absolutely laughable.

To be fair, some of this can probably be chalked up to the translation because - let's face it - many things that sound fine in any other language become very odd, all of a sudden, when translated into German. Towards the end of the book, for example, Kossak covers the Hattin episode and thus briefly tells how Eschiva and her sons retreated into the citadel at Lake Tiberias when Salah ad-Din laid siege to the city. Upon hearing this news, Kossak's Raymond exclaims affectionately "Meine tapfere Alte!", which is best translated as "My valiant old lady!", and if that isn't the funniest shit ever, then I don't know.

What I also found particularly wholesome - though of course not historically viable - was the way Kossak depicted the relationship between Baldwin and Raymond. For some reason, she seems to think Raymond was Baldwin's uncle (when in reality he was his first cousin once removed), but the "favourite uncle & favourite nephew" dynamic she builds between them really works for this novel. As a Raymond fangirl, it was also quite refreshing to read something that showed him as both sympathetic AND ambitious and, for once, didn't make him do the whole "cackling evil relative who is after the crown" act.

In the German translation, Raymond repeatedly calls Baldwin fondly "Mein Junge" und "Mein Kleiner", which literally means "my boy" and "my little one". I'm not crying, you're crying. Baldwin, in turn, refers to Raymond as "Oheim", which is an old German term for "uncle" (specifically: the brother of the mother - imagine that: Raymond as Agnes of Courtenay's brother! 😂). Hence, while it is simply a genealogical mistake and historically speaking, of course, a cartload of bollocks, it nonetheless warms my heart that this novel chose to present us with the one and only depiction of a literal "Uncle Tibs".

So, yeah - this was a fun read.

[ofieugogyshz]

Excerpt from @kiraheartilly

The following scene involves two men seeing you and Lance on TV briefly. The conversation briefly discusses your career and then goes on to talk about pronouns and gender, both as a general thing and in relation to you.

I wanted to submit this to you and get your feedback, less on the writing itself and more on the things discussed about gender, since it’s a personal subject. 

The men and their Pokémon sipped their drinks while watching TV. The news anchor gave a report. “Pokémon League Champions and married couple Lance and Sarah have recently landed in the Laegun Region. When asked about the reason for their trip, they had this to say.”

The scene cut to Lance, a familiar looking man with spiky carmine hair, light skin, and a black cape flowing behind him. “Part of being a Pokémon Master means learning as much about Pokémon as you can. For us, this means travelling the world to learn more about the Pokémon and trainers in various regions. We’ve been planning this trip for a while, but my wife and I have been quite busy and sometimes it’s difficult to get my schedule to align with theirs.”

Beside him, his wife Sarah smiled. They had flat brown hair and brown eyes, with a large black cloak hooded dress flowing over their body and down to her ankles, with extra fabric trailing behind them like a cape of their own. The dress was covered in lace and frills and made them look almost witchlike. Its darkness was in contrast to their light skin. At their shoulder sat an energetic Pikachu.

“If we happen to get a chance to spend some quality time together, that’s a plus too,” they said.

Watching this, Dean smirked. “We’ve been getting a lot of visitors from other regions lately. Didn’t Lorelei visit and have her match with Hazuki? I wonder if Lance and Sarah are planning to challenge anyone.”

“Sarah’s mostly retired now, they don’t do league stuff as much. But I wouldn’t mind if they did have a battle, it might be exciting to watch. I used to be a huge fan of theirs back in the day. They’ve been Champion in more regions than most trainers even get to visit. They dominated the competition in Hoenn, Unova, and Kalos in particular. They’ve also had a pretty fierce run in Sinnoh; between Sarah, Cynthia, and Dawn, the title of Champion seemed to keep flipping all around the place. Gloria, the champion of Galar, said she’s hoping to one day challenge Sarah, but they’ve never had a chance.”

“Wow, I never realized they were so strong.”

“Yeah, they’ve been out of the spotlight for a while now, so most people know them as Lance’s wife. I’m still hoping they’ll make a comeback someday,” Greg quickly sipped down his juice.

Blowing on his latte to cool it, Dean gave a quizzical look. “Wait, do they really consider themself to be Lance’s wife and not spouse? They use they/them pronouns right? So they’re non-binary and not a woman.”

Greg nodded. “Yes, Sarah is Lance’s wife. You seem to be confused about a few things. Pronouns are usually indicative of gender but don’t always match up in a strict one-to-one sort of way. It’s an extremely personal thing and while there are patterns, there are no hard rules.

“Secondly, non-binary people sometimes choose to use gendered language or terms when to refer to themselves. That’s why there are countless non-binary lesbians out there. You remember that one zombie show that was popular a few years back? One of the main characters was played by a non-binary person who used they/them pronouns but still identified as a lesbian. They also preferred being called an actor instead of an actress. And as counterintuitive as it may seem, some people actually do identify as non-binary women.

“Lastly, it’s worth noting that Sarah uses multiple pronouns. They/them, she/her, and even some neopronouns. When it comes to things like gender and identity, the world can be very complex.”

“I see,” said Dean, finishing his latte.

I’m hoping that if I can continue writing your full cameo will be in Chapter 5 or so. This is chapter 3

okay, initial fluster over with--

looking it over again, i’m not sure there’s much that really stands out to me beyond how the diction used feels a little... unnatural? not necessarily because people don’t often talk that irl and it’s not normalized, but more like... it sounds kinda elementary-level academic and not more casual. if the two were like. idk, scholars or something, i guess it could work, but it reads kind of very... school teacher teaching to classroom and less person to person having a discussion about gender.

like, uh, if it were me talking to someone about someone else’s pronouns/gendered language, it’d be more casual, along the lines of

“Someone can be both non-binary and consider themselves someone’s boyfriend, girlfriend, wife, husband, spouse, etc. Being non-binary doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to adhere to non-binary terms, or that you aren’t allowed to use binary terms at all.” 

your example is still fine about the zombie show actor! everything else is good as is, I just recoil a little whenever I see people try to explain lgbt+ terms in a way that feels almost scholastic and not necessarily casual, for what would otherwise be a casual conversation/exchange. it’s something that I hope people are finding better ways to introduce as time goes on, when it comes to fiction and writing, so that we can all find better ways to emulate natural conversation about it!

oh, a minor thing that’s absolutely not related to the gender discussion and you’re more than welcome to disregard this next paragraph. it’s more along the lines of “people interpret championship differently than others”, some people treat being champion as different than defeating a champion (i am of the mind that these are two diff things) and that one can choose to be a region’s champion for a time, until the next championship match or they choose to step down or something but that’s all variable and ultimately no one’s going to fault anyone for conflating because it’s never been made clear in any medium, but i’d prefer something like “they’ve won multiple championship matches/defeated multiple champions, and always went after the next challenge, rather than keep the title in a single place. Even let their husband keep the Indigo Champion title rather than stay in their home region.” doesn’t have to be verbatim.  granted, if it runs contrast to the viewpoint that you headcanon about championship, then by all means go with yours as it is your story ultimately and i’m only providing feedback, not trying to mandate what the rules of canon are or something.

if this sounds all weird, i apologize. words are hard. gender is harder. 

[dukeofviseu]

TASK 001.

FULL NAME : antónio afonso de bragança MEANING: an apt noble of incalculable worth, from the district of braga.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME : antónio afonso de bragança

MEANING :

antónio: of incalculable worth, worthy

afonso: 'noble', alternatively 'ready', 'apt' - the first king of portugal

bragança: from the capital city of braga, of the braga district

MONIKERS / NICKNAMES : nino ( family & close friends ), tonho ( vitoria )

TITLE : infante de portugal, duque de viseu/duque de beja, governador geral do brasil ( infante of portugal, duke of viseu, governor-geral of brazil )

GENDER & PRONOUNS :

cisgender male

he / his

ETHNICITY : white european & african black

DATE OF BIRTH & AGE : march 28th, 1531 / twenty-eight

ZODIAC SIGN : aries

ORIENTATION : bisexual biromantic

MARITAL STATUS : unmarried

OCCUPATION : governor-geral of brazil

CURRENT LOCATION : castelgrande castle, switzerland

BACKGROUND

PLACE OF BIRTH : lisboa, portugal

RESIDENCES : paço da ribeira

RELIGIOUS VIEWS : roman catholicism

EDUCATION : antónio was educated accordingly for a second son in his time - firstly in how to behave properly as a royal, then to fulfill what was expected of him at all moments. he was raised to be a skilled strategist and counselor for his father and his older brother, who will one day assume the throne. aside from being taught his duties as infante, antónio had tutors for many of his interests - some that his father deemed useful for him as a prince, some that he didn't (such as specific subjects in arts and literature). antónio has great swordsmanship and horsemanship, as well as well stretched social skills that range from the lowest to highest social class.

LANGUAGES SPOKEN : portuguese ( native ), latin ( fluent ), spanish ( fluent ), english ( fluent ),  italian ( conversational ) french ( conversational ), german ( learning )

ALLEGIANCES :

house of bragança ( first, by birth )

brazilian colony ( second, by vocation )

the holy roman empire & its allies ( third, by tact )

FAMILY :

king joão of portugal ( father )

queen carlota of barcelos ( mother, deceased )

beatriz of portugal, queen of spain ( sister )

prince sebastião ( brother )

infanta vitória ( sister )

OTHER FAMILIAL RELATIONS :

archduchess louisa of portugal ( aunt )

grand duchess augusta of styria ( cousin )

grand duke lucas of carinthia ( cousin )

archduke augustinus of bavaria-munich ( uncle )

king alonso of spain ( brother-in-law )

tomás, duke of barcelona ( brother-in-law )

infanta luciana ( sister-in-law, deceased )

infanta mariana ( sister-in-law )

infanta teresa ( sister-in-law )

manuel, prince of asturias ( nephew )

infante cristóbal ( nephew )

infante miguel ( nephew )

infanta inés ( niece )

infanta carlota ( niece )

APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM : keiynan lonsdale

HAIR COLOUR / STYLE : black in color. cut short, well trimmed and cared for, in an unusual manner for the time.

EYE COLOUR / SHAPE : deep set, black eyes, piercing in stare.

HEIGHT : 1.83 m / 6'0���’

BUILD : athletic in build ; little body fat due to extensive athletic leisure, toned but proportionate muscles..

SPEECH STYLE : antónio is a soft spoken young man, with vast rhetorical knowledge, which he uses accordingly to social situations. his portuguese accent is always present and considerably heavy to the ears, and he will speak in his mother tongue whenever he can. when talking amongst his cared for, he will enthusiastically ramble and often get lost in his own thoughts. in official situations (or around his father), his tone and speech pattern will change, turning into a calmer, more responsible sounding tone, proper of a young infante. antónio seeks to always better represent his country and family.

RECOGNIZABLE MARKINGS : squared jaw

BEAUTY HABITS : bathes regularly, likes infused water with herbs and flowers (the latter mostly for aesthetic pleasure). takes care of dental hygiene (accordingly to the time). carries a nosegay when strolling through in public. wears bright colored attire, harmonious with his country colors - mostly red, golden and bege - in undershirts, trousers, tunics and cloaks, frequently uses leggigns for protection or belts to secure his trousers. sometimes will wear wrap-over coats and puffier sleeves for more official and/or social occasions.

PERSONALITY

TROPES : crowd pleaser, like a duck takes to water, wake-up call

INSPIRATIONS : i literally do not know?? maybe a bit on dom pedro i just because of the whole 'choosing the colony over the metropole, despite him being far from like dom pedro (also cause dom pedro is from the 1700s-1800s)

MBTI : enfp-t ; the campaigner

ENNEAGRAM : type 9 ; the peacemaker

ALIGNMENT : lawful good

TEMPERAMENT : sanguine ( melancholic, phlegmatic, choleric )

HOGWARTS HOUSE : hufflepuff

POSITIVE TRAITS : buoyant, altruistic, merciful, principled, loyal, tolerant, gregarious

NEGATIVE TRAITS : tactless, quixotic, lenient, hesitant, submissive

HABITS : switching between accents/dialects/languages, pacing, overly expressing physically, restless leg

HOBBIES : athletic leisure (quarter staff, jousting, archery, riding, hunting), music related pastimes (listening to music, playing the moorish guitar and the harpsichord), painting, literature (reading and writing poetry, troubadours), academic endeavors, social encounters (drinking involved) & sailing

USUAL DEMEANOR : surrounded by his closest and most trustworthy, antónio is a bright and light young man, talkative and friendly, full of ideas and easily excited. he stands goofily and doesn't appease to royal standards. amongst court, he's stiffer and less expressive, unless in defence of his family and country's honor, but is more of a listened than a talker - unless in festive environment, when he's capable to mix his public persona with his personal social talents, an energetic and magnetic man.

HEALTH

PHYSICAL AILMENTS : none worth mention. always an active and healthy child, antónio never suffered from grave illness, only usual summer fevers..

NEUROLOGICAL CONDITION : from a young age, tutors and staff noticed antónio's restlessness. even when doing things he enjoyed, he displayed anxious behaviors, such as inability to wait for his own turn, having difficulty maintaining attention in one task - description compatible with symptoms of ADHD-C. despite the hardships of his lack of focus and generalized anxieties, antónio grew up to be an emotionally intelligent man, although only mildly aware of his own emotional dependency on his father's opinions. aside from the above and the sleep disorder, which will be described later), antónio struggles with a sense of lack of self-awareness. not a complete disruption of perception, which would make him identifiable with a dissociative disorder, but mild enough to be considered a sort of dissociation from material reality, such as depersonalization, in which antónio is detached from his surroundings in midst of anxiety episodes and finds himself as a third-party, observant of himself, but is aware that the feeling is not reality. in defiance of all the above, antónio remains a light-hearted individual, usually seem as a happy young man. he would not describe himself as unhappy in any given time, but is aware of his inner turmoils - only to categorize them as usual human emotions. he has no intention of pursuing explanations for his behaviors, nor treatment for them (despite his father's constant attempts of calming him down as a child).

PHOBIAS : fear of disappointing his family, fear of being forgotten

ALLERGIES : none

SLEEPING HABITS : antónio has difficulties in falling asleep, and once he does, he might wake up several times throughout the evening. he's gone through weeks at a time with minimal amounts of sleep, but his overall appearance and posture is hardly affected by it. antónio suffers from episodes of dissociation during sleep, such as being unable to dream in first person, which affects him while awake as he sometimes has a hard time knowing if he's awake or dreaming. overall, antónio sleeps late when he does, just as sun's about to rise, and wakes up throughout his sleep several times, but eventually gets up around 3-5 hours later, average. when he has early duties, he often does not sleep.

SOCIABILITY : extremely extroverted, antónio will make a point to talk to as many people as he can in any given situation, whatever the matter is. he's constantly and impatiently looking for new acquaintances and companies, whether it be for sexual reasons or merely social ones. he is usually seen as the life of the party in many people's eyes. although he prefers writing, painting and studying by himself, all his other leisure activities are prefered to be done with groups of people. antónio is more than capable of spending good alone time, but prefers to keep the company of others.

ADDICTIONS : antónio is exhaustingly drawn to physical activity - for leisure and health purposes. considered addiction of not, he participates in competitions and tournaments often, thrilled by the adrenaline suppressed in it. besides that, he's not much of a heavy drinker, choosing to do so only in social gatherings or to impress someone (he's that guy). he enjoys the feeling of being drunk, and is always aware of his limitations with alcohol.

[loyalflutist]

Scarlet Carnation - Prologue (F!Byleth x Edelgard)

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Words: 7,084 Collaboration with @datsexykiwi Summary:  “Ignorance is bliss...when you know too much, you will only face worse dilemmas of your lifetime”

Byleth is thrust into a difficult position. After experiencing a strange dream, the professor eventually finds herself switching between the two worlds with two very different Edelgards. Though they contrast from each other, Byleth could not help but cherish them... as they do for her. 

A/N: So this is the first series I’ve written for Edeleth, and this is a collaboration I’m grateful to have with the lovely Kate, also known as @datsexykiwi . As someone who I’ve known for years, she’s someone I place great faith in her writing and trust in the ideas we cook up together. Hope you all enjoy this series! I really enjoyed writing it! :) 

Kate’s A/N: Enjoy the max of angst and fluff. Have fun along with us. ;) 

---

It was hot.

A young woman’s forehead gleam under the relentless sun, sweat dripping from her features. Her breaths were as fast as it could come and go. The dark, light armor that should have served as protection over her academic attire was in lieu of roasting her alive. She licked her cracked, bottom lip; a tinge of metal swept over her taste buds.

It was unbearably hot.

Loud, metallic screeches, horses neighing, and screams of all kinds filled the blurry background. There were a variety of sounds that would have driven out any ordinary person. This was something she was used to.

She looked down at her feet. A pool of blood stained the rocky pavement that belongs to the monastery; her metal combat boots were deep in the puddle. Evaporation in this humid and sweltering heat should have occurred in less than a few minutes. However, the ground remained moist as its source oozed plenty of crimson from his injuries. The Sword of Creator was lodged deep into the nameless soldier’s ribcage, its jagged edges slicing through all three germ layers. His facial expressions were, thankfully, overshadowed by his large steel helmet.

“...”

Byleth blinked. It had dawned upon her that she was still gripping ahold of the terrifying relic. Then, with a grunt, the older woman heard a sickening slick while removing her sword. The blade was coated in a deep shade of red. Unfortunately, it didn’t only derive from the deceased warrior. She slowed her respiration rate, her hues shifted upward at the battlefield.

Shadows shaped like fighters of all sizes and shapes ran at each other. When they collided, a black mist would swirl around as if they were dancing to the tune of death. Sparks and elemental spells would erupt from the visual attraction. Then, they would separate. They became still. This stillness would only last for a couple of seconds, however. One would showcase a noticeable trait of losing the blackness that enveloped their figures. Their identity would become public as they accept their demise.

This was surreal. Byleth’s knuckles became white as her aching limbs screamed for mercy. She can’t seem to recall her reason for being here. No matter how much the ex-mercenary mentally groveled, her brain would only pull up blanks. Still, there was one thing she was sure of: she had to be here in this battle.

“tɾo faða noi dɔn joɹhan dorja”

“...”

Archaic language thumped her eardrums. Clearly, it was something Byleth didn’t comprehend. She exhaled. The professor eventually raised her weapon once more as three more shadows crept towards her from the distance; each of them possesses one of the three shadow-cloaked weapons: a sword, a lance, and an axe. She squeezed the relic’s handle.

‘ Is this a dream? ’

It has to be. Not only were there supernatural elements that she could not coherently wrap her head around, but she was also the only person who retained her physical appearance. But it was vivid. The pain that singed from the sweats’ contact with her minor cuts, the wild beating of her heart against her chest plate, the aches that resonated in her worn muscles, and the fatigue that shrouded over her consciousness was a bit too realistic.

‘ Is this really a dream? ’

Alas, Byleth left it at that. The three unwelcome guests soon closed their distance. She lowered her head, closed her eyes, and deeply inhaled. When she exhaled, her eyelids snapped open and she flicked her wrist. Rocky debris kicked up in the air as she launched herself at the three enemies. The blade was reeled behind her back, her glare prominent.

“It’s over!”

The shadows retaliated. The lancer thrust their spearhead at her chest, the axe-wielder pulled back both arms to deliver a slamming blow, and the sword-user horizontally swiped at the professor.

Byleth pivot her feet. She sucked in her stomach and twisted her upper body. It was a fleeting moment for the spear’s tip to brush up on her heated armor. A battle cry was heard from her direction as she, with all her might, swung her weapon.

The Sword of Creator is a powerful tool during times of conflict. Parts of the blade broke apart into small chunks. It began to emit a dull glow as its razor-like edges flung outward at her enemies. They were unable to block the devastating assault. A single swing produced a multitude of traumas to their body. Splatters of red painted Byleth’s cheek. One by one, the black shell vanished without a trace as they collapsed onto the new puddle.

“...”

She lurched forward. Byleth quickly shoved her foot in front of her to prevent a fall. The young teacher was hunched over, panting; her vision was fading in and out like strobe lights. This is terribly exhausting. She slammed the relic onto the cracked pavement. Using it as support, the neon green-haired dryly swallowed and raised her head.

“...?”

There was another shadow from a few meters. Compared to most others that fill the disheveled landscape, this individual was shorter than them. A monstrous axe slashed through their existence like a hot knife through butter. Each strike brought out more fluids from their victims; dark substances flung in the air in slow motion. It was done with complete elegance and ease. This should have rung plenty of alarm bells in her head. No one should have possessed the strength to make bloodshed a visual treat. They’re a monster; a beast that should be put down. Instead, Byleth could not help but be in awe of the enigmatic person.

She could sense danger emitting from the short fighter. Fortunately, her instincts scream that the teacher has nothing to worry about. Whether Byleth’s guts are being churlish or not with her life is up for speculation. The older woman continued to observe the ephemeral bloody dance.

Just who is this shadow?

“...Huh?”

There was another dark figure spotted in Byleth’s peripheral sight. Sweat continued to fall from her face as her eyes were fixated on the new arrival. When her gaze slowly traced the shadow’s objective, her blood froze.

“?!”

Murderous beauty may have been bestowed to the shadow, but it did not prevent an unfortunate ending. Newfound energy burst through four of her limbs. The ex-mercenary scrambled towards the axe-wielder. Byleth was still unable to grasp ahold of her action’s purpose. But, just like her instincts told her about the unforgiving battle, she too had to protect this shadow.

‘ The Divine Pulse! ’

It was all for naught. Regardless of the amount of concentration she emphasized on the potent skill, not a speck of dust reversed to its original position on the concrete slab. Everything was still progressing forward.

‘ Why is it not working?! ’

There was no time.

She had no choice.

She needed to--

Byleth shoved the shadow out of the way. This threw the person off balance as their entire body stumbled sideways. Facial features were impossible to read, but the teacher could have sworn she saw a flicker of a familiar identity. She widened her eyes. The fighter extended her unoccupied hand out towards the supernatural.

There was a blunt thud pressed into her back. Then, the dull aches that plagued her tightened muscles ramped up to excruciating pain that ripped through her entire being. Byleth felt as if her spine had exploded! Just when this searing agony felt as if it could get any worse, it immediately dissipated… just like her consciousness.

< ---- > 

“---!!”

She gasped and woke up abruptly from her bed. That was certainly a sudden transition from a bloody battle to being in a cozy bed within a tranquil atmosphere. She placed her hand onto her shoulder, remembering that pain against her back. It felt too real that she actually thought she’s dead. She wondered why would she have such a bizarre dream like that. Is it a premonition? Is it just irrational thoughts playing tricks on her dream?

“What a nightmare to have… ”

It’s about time to get up from bed towards her morning class. It’s another day she’ll be instructing the Black Eagles classroom. However, Byleth couldn’t shake the thought away about the dream she had recently. The thing is, those dreams started with being so vague she could barely remember any details of it aside from the fact she’s dreaming. Eventually, she started seeing and remembering more details as everything started to feel real. Sometimes, she would even be aware of what was happening but absolutely have no control over what was happening. She sighed and wondered what was this all about until she heard her green-haired friend speaking inside her mind.

‘ Nightmare again? ’

“...It has been so frequently. I’m starting to feel like I’m sleep deprived.”

‘Too bad I couldn’t see the dream itself, but I can tell you looked uncomfortable in your sleep.’

“...”

Byleth sighed before she changed into her signature black outfit look and lace stockings. She left her room and hid her exhaustion under her poker face like usual. She’s not that expressive according to Jeralt and her students that have been with her for a couple of weeks. She headed to her class to begin the training.

Today’s lesson plan was to teach her fellow students how to balance properly as an essential skill in the battle.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a swordsman or not. Balance is an essential skill that everyone must understand how to use it. Or else, you’ll simply put yourself at a disadvantage unnecessarily. It is both a defensive and offensive skill.”

She demonstrated how to lower the center of gravity, gripping onto the ground firmly with one’s toes. Byleth demonstrated simple actions that allowed her students to understand it without much complexity. It is one of the most difficult basics that took her years to grasp it.

“You can’t always rely on brute force. When you are on the battlefield, what determines the victor is not who’s physically stronger, but who knows how to utilize their body’s strengths better. The ladies will have an advantage due to the fact that they naturally have a lower center of gravity than men. Simple basics, but a difficult mastery.”

Byleth walked up to the dummy made from bamboo. She used the training sword and showed her students its sharpness; it wasn’t that great. It could barely cut through one. However, she will use that same blade to cut through a pack of 3 bamboo stalks in a single strike. All of the members of Black Eagles watched attentively before the young professor did not use any brute force to cut, but was able to slice through all the stalks with a single fluid motion without breaking her sword.

“If you know how to use your hip and balance well with your skills, then you are able to cut through the enemy’s armor or weapon.”

She then asked Caspar to assist her by swinging the sword with all his might at her. At first, he was reluctant to do so but Byleth asked him to trust her. In the end, he did as his professor said, and the moment he dashed and swung his training sword up into the air, ready to cut Byleth down, she swung her sword right at him too.

KLANK

It was Caspar’s sword that fell out from his grip and he could feel the numbness rushing through his shivering hand. Edelgard recognized it; that was the same move that she used to disarm the bandits on their first encounter.

“You can disarm, and that is enough to buy the time to strike your opponent down. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Good, let’s begin the training. Go to your assigned station. I will come to check on you all individually.”

Byleth went around the group checking on her students, teaching all the fundamentals that Jeralt used to teach her when she’s simply just a kid. All of them showed perseverance and put all their effort to learn from her. After the training came to an end, she delegated one and a half spare hour for her team to focus on anything they wanted to do. Meanwhile, she will be working with three students on their private one-on-one training every time. Today, she would be checking up on Caspar, Dorothea, and Edelgard.

“Professor! Is this how you do it?”

“Not quite, you have to lower your balance a bit more.”

Byleth watched the young blue-haired boy stood his ground. She circled around him before she pushed him abruptly without him realizing it, sending him falling onto the ground.

“W-Whoa!?”

“Not good enough, Caspar. You have to relax more.”

“Gah! This is so hard...”

“Like I said, it is a difficult mastery.”

“You’re so good at it...”

“Keep practicing, Caspar. You will get there eventually.”

Finishing with the young boy, she headed to Dorothea and as expected she did slightly better than Caspar due to her natural low center of gravity. As she physically has to shift Dorothea, that made her student giggle and tease the older female.

“Oh professor, I feel so intimate when you’re touching me like that...”

“Keep the context clean, Dorothea.”

“C’mon! Just play along, will you?”

“Not when you make it sound like I’m physically violating you.”

“You’re such a fiend, professor!”

“Oh lord...”

As usual, Byleth was subjected to Dorothea’s sly tease every time she tried to teach her something, at least she’s a very studious girl that worked extremely hard or just as much as Edelgard herself. After she finished her session with her, the last remaining 20 minutes was with the head of the Black Eagles, Edelgard.

“Professor, could I test my skills?”

“I don’t mind that. What would you like me to do?”

“Please attack me, I want to do that disarming move you did.”

“Make sure you disarm me, because I won’t hold back.”

“That will be my pleasure.”

Byleth ran in and swung her sword towards Edelgard before she twisted, using her lower body as her strength to add power into her strike. That struck onto Byleth’s sword, but it didn’t manage to disarm her. However, it was enough to force the professor backward to regain her distance. Edelgard had that slight disappointment in her face as she thought she would’ve disarmed Byleth.

“That was really good. If I didn’t hold my sword tightly enough, it would’ve flew out from my hand. That was splendid, Edelgard.”

She smiled and praised her student for her amazing achievement. That made the young emperor blush slightly with contentment despite not reaching her expectations. As the tutoring session continued on, the class was finally over. Everyone slowly left the room to the dining hall for their meals whilst Edelgard was the last student to leave.

“Professor, are you by chance available at the moment?”

“What is the matter?”

“Well...I want to speak with you in person. Discuss some few matters.”

“Very well then, like usual?”

It seemed there was some secret way they communicate with each other. Edelgard nodded softly with those pink blushing cheeks that it made the professor just have to tease her a little bit. She pinched her soft silky cheeks before letting out a soft chuckle.

“You are adorable, Edelgard.”

“Stop teasing me.”

“My bad, let us go, shall we? I’m certain you brought your packed lunch.”

Bull’s eye. Edelgard did request a packed lunch earlier in the morning since it was her plan to have a private lunch session with her professor without other students around. They headed out to a quiet secluded space where there wouldn’t be many students around to spot them nor disturb their peace for lunch and tea. What they usually talk was related to their class content, especially digesting what she learned through the past week.

“Today’s class was very interesting. I had a lot of fun.”

“I’m glad you did. You’re doing really well too.”

“It is because of your guidance and training.”

“You credited me too much, Edelgard.”

“Not at all, professor.”

After they talked about their lessons, their conversation started to shift to something more casual and rather personal between the two of them. During the past weeks, Byleth was working in the Monastery as a professor, she certainly developed a special bond with Edelgard. Not sure where this is leading the two of them to, but Byleth realize she developed this sense of adoration towards the young emperor. She enjoyed her time with the young lady when it is just the two of them, it feels rather different from when they were other students in the class. As for Edelgard herself, she was clear with how she’s especially fond of the professor in a way she never ever did to anyone in her life. Byleth seemed to have a special place in her heart, but she was yet to be very honest with her selfish demands.

“I hope one day I can be as strong as you, professor.”

“I’m certain you will be.”

“...Will you be there to watch me? Being there with me?”

“I would love to. You all have a bright future up ahead and it would be a great pride and joy to watch you all grow stronger. I want to be there and see how far will you rise and shine as a future emperor of the Empire, Edelgard.”

“You promised, okay? You’ll be there with me.”

Edelgard moved in closer and began to whisper softly so no one could’ve overheard her words. Byleth didn’t reject her and only placed her hand on top of Edelgard’s hand before smiling back at her with sweet adoration.

“So, you want me there with you when you become an emperor, am I correct?”

“...I suppose if you put it bluntly like that, yes.”

“I see.”

She didn’t tease her much aside from giving a soft kiss on her forehead. That made her blush over to her ears in silence, she leaned onto her shoulder before they held each other’s hand without saying a word to each other. Byleth may have been experienced with countless battles, but she’s a novice when it comes to romance - Edelgard included. They spent their tranquil moment enjoying each other’s company before time is up. It was about time they return back to their classes.

“Edelgard, we must go.”

“Right.”

As she slowly let go of her professor, she seemed to be reluctant and it was written all over her face. Byleth picked up those hints that the young emperor wanted to do or say something.

“What’s wrong?”

“...Well, this is embarrassing.”

“...”

The professor could read her expression, and that made her giggled softly to herself before she opened her arms for the young one to come in. She ended up blushed even more with how her professor managed to read her childish mind so easily. She refrained from going in for the hug and made Byleth rather puzzled for a second.

“Ah, was that a bit too much?”

“Y-You’re such a bully, professor.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“How could you be capable of doing such things like this without being embarrassed?”

“Not sure myself, for some reason, I’m not embarrassed by it.”

“You’re truly weird, professor.”

This time she just pushed herself into Byleth’s arms and embrace her tightly. The young one buried her face onto her shoulder. That made the professor embrace her back gently. Despite the tough character she portrayed, she has this childish side that loves hugs. It was for a few seconds, but it is quite long for the two of them.

-

Byleth returned back to her room and felt so exhausted. It may have been lack of sleep she’s been having recently. She decided to go to bed early today and then she heard Sothis speaking inside her mind.

‘ You’ve become quite fond of that girl. ’

“Huh…?”

‘ Just be careful, she’s still a child. ’

“I am well aware of that. She’s an adorable student of mine.”

‘ I wonder if it is just a student-teacher relationship you both shared. I doubt she is thinking that way about you though. I lived long enough to realize that. ’

“Well...I don’t know what to say.”

‘ My only warning would be, don’t give her false hopes if you’re not planning to see it through until the end. ’

“Never thought there will be a day I got a piece of love advice you.”

‘ Shut up, I may look young but I lived way much longer than you do, kid. ’

“Yes, ma’am.”

Byleth gave Sothis a slight tease back but what she said was true though. She’s well aware of Edelgard’s growing feelings that may have towards her. The way she looked and sought physical comfort from her has been escalating gradually. Even though she adored Edelgard quite a bit more than several students, she wouldn’t be able to say that would make her anywhere special and different from other students like Dorothea, Caspar, Bernadette and others too. Byleth wasn’t sure herself if she would call that romantic affection that she has for Edelgard, but regardless of that, she should be careful not to give false hope to her. Rejection is painful, but what's worse than that is receiving false hopes from the one they love.

“...Thank you for the warning though, I will keep that in mind.”

She thanked Sothis back, but she didn’t respond anymore. She probably went to sleep inside Byleth or something, as usual. Thus, it was about time for her to go to bed too. As she lay down and closed her eyes...she recalled that dream was killed. For some reason, she couldn’t shake those thoughts away. As her mind slowly drifted off into the darkness, she wondered if she would have that same nightmare again this time or not...

< ---- > 

CAW! CAW! CAW!

She cracked open her eyelids from the annoying sound. No matter how much she tried to will herself to stay asleep, the ridiculous noise would only increase in tempo and volume. It was almost like out of a horror tale Hubert would spook everyone with! This left her with the latter option of waking up, much to her dismay.

Through her lens, the older female stared at a blurry, brown wall. The natural twitches from her fingertips brushed upon a rather tough, granite-like surface. When she dragged her gaze upward, she found herself peering through a pile of broken pillars and stone slabs. The entire structure was acting as a small shelter for the teacher; its large hole from above provided the necessary sunlight for the woman.

“...”

Clearly, she was not in bed anymore. Just where is she?

That was the first question that popped to mind upon awakening. Byleth regained more of her consciousness as she sat up. This tactician felt a groan slip out as she pressed against her forehead. Small bits of rocks and pebbles were heard rolling off of her chest. She blinked. Then, a bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face.

‘ Okay… I’m not at the academy for sure. ’

Obvious deductions were noted. Byleth lowered her hand and scanned her surroundings. The placement of the materials won’t pose any threat to her life. When the professor rapped her knuckles on a torn pillar with ferocity, it hardly budged. There was also plenty of room to stand up on her feet in this secluded premise. She quickly brushed off the residue from her dirtied skirt.

‘ ...Sothis? ’

No response. Confuzzled, Byleth made another attempt.

‘ Sothis… Don’t tell me you’re still sleeping. ’

Once again, no response. The teal-haired frowned. This was especially concerning. Sothis was never the type to leave her hanging. After all, she is the only person in existence to be able to communicate and see her. There’s no doubt that the petite woman would jump at every opportunity to talk at her beck and call. (Almost like a cat!) To boot, wherever Byleth is, Sothis was always there by her side.

‘ I’m sure I’ll figure it out later. ’

There was no point in dwindling upon the matter. Thinking and wishing won’t bring the short woman back to her side. Besides, there are far more important matters to tend to as of right now.

Byleth eventually recognized the Sword of Creator’s presence. The weapon had laid comfortably on the cracked pavements, waiting for its master to relinquish their ownership.

‘ I should get out of here. ’

The ex-mercenary thought of her next course of action as she retrieved her sword. She sheathed the ancient relic back on her waist and looked up at the hole. Gauging from its distance, size, and her skillset, Byleth should be able to make it.

Knees and elbows bent, the professor jumped up and grabbed ahold of the hole’s borders. Thanks to her efforts in training with the students and remaining vigilant with her exercises, this posed little to no strain on her muscles.

Byleth popped out of the pile like a flying fish. Both of her legs straightened as she squarely plopped on the ground. Had her students witnessed this feat, they would have clapped and praised for her acrobatic endeavors!

The teal-haired’s eyes nearly boggled out of its sockets. Unfortunately, desolation was her audience.

It was so barren, and this place... It was once the defense base of the monastery. Various structures were in shambles as if someone or something had rocked this sacred area; its servitude as a protective guardian beyond its walls was fruitless. When she glanced up, the sky high above was cloudless, but consist of a sun tormenting those below with its rays of light. If there was someone worth mentioning, it’s those pesky crows that perched on the black branches of a dead tree. Six of them stared at Byleth; their beaks were clamped shut. It appears that they have a new subject to overwatch on this land.

Byleth tapped the side of her head as she examined her setting.

‘ Just what in the world happened here…? ’

So far, Byleth can’t see a single, notable landmark beyond the base that would pinpoint her next destination. Her shoulders and head slumped.

‘ I have no choice but to walk around and find a village. If I remember correctly, there should be one behind this defense structure. ’

The woman glanced over her shoulder. There was an old, architectural wooden gate that led straight to the interior of the monastery’s ground. Many small communities gathered as a way to become closer to the Church of Seiros. Past the villages and towns, the Officer’s Academy sat above the civilians. To the residents, this was a gift. To the teacher, this meant hope for human contact.

Glimmers of sweat formed on her forehead, the metallic armor she usually wears during battle beginning to rise in temperature. The instructor felt her eyebrow twitch. It was getting hot. Like, really REALLY hot.

‘ I really should get a move on. ’

CAW! CAW! CAW!

Oh, if those flocks of birds can give it a rest!

Byleth tensed her shoulders and glared at the source. The crows wildly cried out, their black wings flapping at similar intervals with their callings. They were so quiet before. What made them act up? Is it because they found her amusing? Or is she too boring of a subject for observation? She stiffened her dry lips when one of the six crows left the mass. This particular bird flew right in her direction.

‘ Oh no! ’

Alarmed, Byleth sidestepped. What she did not take into account after sidestepping was catching sight of the military. The small group of soldiers that appeared from the now-opened wooden gate were chattering with each other. There were five of them. One of them held onto the reins of a snow-white horse as four others respectively held lances and swords in their hands. Some laughed out loud, one nearly doubled over from the profound topic. Whatever cheery banter they had came to a screeching halt, per contra.

“...”

“?”

Upon closer inspection, Byleth noticed that they were from the Adrestian Empire.

‘ Edelgard… ’ Her eyes widen. ‘ Edelgard! ’

How lucky! Meeting up with these fellow comrades meant that she could reunite with the Black Eagles! Her students must be worried sick if she had been sleeping outside of her dormitory room, even more so outside of the Officer’s Academy! Edelgard might give her a good scolding, but that’s the least of her worries!

The professor’s stoic features faintly brightened as she approached the soldiers.

“Excuse me--”

“EEK!”

Byleth nearly tumbled forward and onto her face; she caught herself in the nick of time by flailing her arms. She whipped her head towards the source.

Lo and behold, it was one of the soldiers. He stood rigid and hugged his lance. Not that he was the only one who squealed like a little girl. The other four warriors blanched at the sight of the instructor. Byleth let out a weary sigh.

“I hope you understand that your reactions really hurt me.”

“STAY AWAY!”

“...hah?”

The ex-mercenary was not one for explicitly showcasing her emotions. She just can’t seem to break out any form of expressions beyond disappointment, shock, content, and the occasional cheeky smile. In this case, she bluntly expressed bewilderment. What is wrong with them? Just because she has difficulty in showing features doesn’t mean she looks like a horror show!

Before Byleth could request for information, the five soldiers aimed their weapons at the staff member.

“Mommy, I’m so sorry for doubting you!”

“I thought you died!”

“G-GHOST!”

“What should we tell the emperor!?”

“GO BACK, YOU FIEND!”

It was a discombobulated verbiage. Byleth could not even muster the energy to say something witty right back at them. Actually-- There was no need for wittiness. The teal-haired woman unsheathed her Sword of Creator and pointed it at them. This elicited another squeal from the same male; the tip of his weapon trembled violently.

“I don’t want to do this,” she murmured. “But you leave me with no choice.”

The entire fight sequence took less than a minute, to her surprise. Perhaps fear had gotten to their nerves as their stances were out of line. Simple dodge mechanics and closing in on them made their souls fly out of their body. Byleth also made sure to use the butt end of her handle to knock the stubborn ones out. If anything, her existence made them faint!

“...”

Out of all the conflicts she had witnessed and experienced, this one has to be the most embarrassing of them all. At least it made the traverse to the inner parts of the monastery easier. This was also made possible thanks to the horse that one of the soldiers had. Unlike the horse’s owner, this creature was indifferent with respect to the instructor.

“Hope you don’t mind me borrowing him,” she mumbled under her breath. “I’ll return the horse later.”

That was something she appreciates after the ruckus this day has become. Besides, there is not a moment to waste. She must hurry back to the Officer’s Academy and reunite with her students!

The trek from the outsider borders and into the community opened up to a setting she was familiar with. Villagers and merchants occupied the roads and houses. Domestic animals greeted Byleth with their barks and yelps. Foreigners from all parts of Fodlan were frequently spotted in the midst of small crowds. This revisitation alone almost made the professor forgive and forget the incident with the soldiers earlier that day.

However, something was amiss. As the black horse slowed his pacing, she overheard one of the local merchants.

“It’s already been five years, hasn’t it?”

“Ah, yes… Five years since the fighting with the three nations has started.”

A faint sigh came from the old woman. She adjusted her hold on the cane and shook her head at the female merchant.

“I hope this war can end soon. I’ve heard Lady Edelgard has gone mad since she lost someone.”

“Who?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just a rumor.”

Byleth nearly tore the rein from pulling it back so harshly. This caused the horse to lift his front hooves up and madly kick the air. Had the creature prolonged its posture for another second, the poor mentor would have fallen off of his back. The horse threw his head upward. Evidently, the mammal fidgeted on the spot. She loosened her hold on the reins and soothingly pat his neck.

‘ Five years… Five years?! And what war?! I don’t remember there being any conflict yesterday! ‘ The patting slowed to a stop. ‘ This is all a dream, isn’t it? ’

The woman retracted her hand. She proceeded to pinch her own cheek and pull on it. Pain shot up from the abrupt stretching of the epidermis. Byleth released it with watery eyes.

‘ This isn’t a dream. ’

Dread loomed over her head. Whatever burst of energy she had now trickled out rapidly. Byleth’s guts continuously pound against its own chest, bellowing of impending bad news. Her jawlines became prominent. So many questions boiled underneath her sturdy exterior. At any given moment, she might explode from the deadly force of her curiosity and confusion.

‘ ...I have to see my students. ’

Byleth flicked the reins and leaned forward, the horse galloping as fast as possible towards the tall structures.

Pristine conditions that were evident from the distance eroded its illusion the closer she got. Many of the stone blocks were blown to smithereens. Black marks discolored the once-wonderful and prestigious academy for the students and staff. It made Byleth wonder what her father, Jeralt, would say about the condition. (Not that he would have anything to say in the first place.) Maybe Rhea, Seteth, and Flayn would have had a stronger reaction towards this mess. The fact that the holy ground was stampeded all over by the force of bloodshed would be more than enough to make any devoted followers of Seiros wail for redemption.

At least the marketplace was spared, albeit the number of foreigners and refugees from other parts of the nations increased by tenfold.

“Halt!”

One of the soldiers at the main gate raised his hand. She immediately heeded to his motion and slowed the black creature. The horse tossed let out a small puff through his nostrils as the man approached the dismounted woman. His brown irises gazed upon Byleth’s. Then, his eyes widen.

“Wait… are you really…?”

“?”

She blinked.

“Oh, right! You must’ve forgotten about me already.” The man became bashful, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. A wide grin ran across his face as the helmet overshadowed his eyes. This was a complete contrast to his prior tonality; the deep voice erased with a higher pitch. “Please allow me to speak to you normally again.”

‘ Normally? What could he possibly mean? ’

The steel soldier saluted to Byleth.

“Greetings, Professor! I welcome you back to the monastery!”

“...Thank you.”

It was him, alright. The same fellow that had always greeted her since day one at the academy. Although military personnel were, overall, kind, none of them matched the level of generosity and sweetness as this man. His famous “Greetings, Professor!” always echoed in the back of her mind whenever she thinks of this particular soldier. Five years hardly did a number to his young features. Perhaps he had gotten more handsome instead? Byleth finds it an amusing thought to ponder about.

His smile lingered on his features as he lowered his hand.

“I knew you were alive! I’ve always had hopes that you would return to us.”

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

He scratched the side of his head.

“Don’t you remember? Five years ago, the Black Eagle Strike Force all witnessed your death at the hand of Lady Rhea… though I don’t know the details all too well since I wasn’t a part of that battle.”

“I’m still not following you.”

It sounds simple on paper, but when he reiterated the information, she simply responded with a blank stare.

Death? How in the world did that concept bear fruit? Unmistakably, Byleth is alive and well. The ex-mercenary curled and uncurled her fingers. Her sense of touch was still intact. She can perform basic arithmetic. Her memory hasn’t failed her so far, save it for her origin and real age. These were some of the traits that a deceased person wouldn’t retain. A dead person is anything but alive. There was also the mention of Rhea… The tactician held the side of her head. Just what does she have to do with Byleth’s lifeline?

“I could see that you’re still confused, Professor...”

“I am.”

“I suggest that you talk to the emperor about this. I’m sure Lady Edelgard will be pleased to hear of this news.”

Hearing her name caused Byleth’s heart to increase its thumping intensity. She placed a hand on her chest and formed a small smile.

“I will do that, then.”

Pleased with her answer, the gatekeeper allowed her to go through the main floors of the monastery. A step into the main floor garnered more attention than she needed. Many Adrestian Empire’s soldiers penetrated her vulnerable exterior with their piercing stares. Some became as white as a sheet. Some began to tremble at the sight of the professor. Others toughened their features. All of their reactions were anything but pleasant.

‘ If only more of them acted like the Gatekeeper. ’

Whispers of a ghost floated around her auditory organ. Uncertainty filled the atmosphere as she marched onward to the classrooms. She found herself standing inside one of them by the doorless entranceway. The sight of her assigned classroom for the Black Eagles still stood well after the supposed five years time gap. As for the other classrooms? Empty. Not a single soul existed in the Blue Lions and Golden Deers Houses.

Just where are the students? The premise should have never been this empty… unless they have all graduated? That was plausible since the students would have to leave the academy in pursuit of their own goals. Then again, there is also that war that was mentioned-- and Lady Rhea being the cause of her death.

Byleth cupped her own chin and lowered her head. There are too many outliers here, and she doesn’t have Sothis to confide to. She’s on her own. Her eyes narrowed. These questions and theories can’t go unanswered. Perhaps it would be best she shares this knowledge with the two people she trusts: Jeralt and Edelgard.

“Professor? Is that really you?”

Isn’t there a pleasant tinkle to that articulation. Byleth knew fully well who it was. She barely got the chance to turn around when Petra and Dorothea advanced to their mentor. The princess of Brigid gleamed and immediately reached out to grab ahold of her hand.

“Oh, Professor! How we miss you so much! I knew you were alive at all these times!”

They’ve changed so much. Both of them radiated in beauty as a blooming flower. It also appears that Dorothea had dropped the signature hat. (What a shame.) It was the warmth that she happily received. In spite of the fact that Byleth would want to contradict with her statement, the tears that flowed down her and Dorothea’s cheeks made her hold back her words. She merely nodded her head in silence.

“You know how worried you made us?” Dorothea used the back of her hand to wipe the teardrops. “When Edie told her that you died, I didn’t believe in her.”

“Yes. I am the same way too. Edelgard is wrong about that.”

“Whoa, what’s with the commotion. Both Lady Edelgard and I would like for you both to-- Teach?”

His long, luscious orange hair flowed naturally as he swooped into the room. Right next to Ferdinand, there was another familiar figure that Byleth would never mistake in her lifetime and the next. The two nobles hurried over to the small group of three. He glanced up and down at Byleth with stern features.

“Professor… is that really… you?”

That question is quite popular, isn’t it? Byleth resisted the urge to make a witty remark and, once again, nodded silently. Compared to the relief that washed over the two other females, Ferdinand crossed his arms and tilted his head.

“I do not wish to be rude, but I cannot find myself to believe that you are Byleth.”

“Ferdinand! That is extremely rude of you to say that!” Dorothea scolded. “The Professor, whom we believed was dead, is finally here with us! Isn’t that a miracle?”

“I find it hard to trust in that miracle, Dorothea. Just look at our Professor here. Don’t you find something odd about her?”

“That she doesn’t have bright green hair? Please. Physical trait can’t--”

“Dorothea, please listen to me. I cannot shake off this feeling that--”

“The professor had simply lost her power with Sothis.”

Byleth felt the regal woman’s armored hands touch her arms. Then, without warning, she embraced the teal-haired. The professor had already gotten used to hugs from Edelgard when she was young, but this one felt different somehow.

Anxiety. Fear. Loneliness.

Byleth let out a shaky exhale.

“Is that why I can’t hear Sothis anymore?”

“...yes.”

How in Fodlan did this Edelgard know about Sothis? Had she spoken to her about it previously?

“Five years have passed, and we all thought you were gone.” Edelgard parted from the hug, yet kept her hold on the older woman’s arms. She raised her head and fixated her eyes on Byleth’s. “How long I’ve waited for this moment for you to return…”

“...”

There was that five-year gap. Perhaps there were things that Byleth hadn’t remembered. Her instincts were itching to dive deeper into the logistics of that theory. Something told her that she needed to really explore that possibility. There was also the exploration of this five-year jump. So much has changed, and so much information has been left out for Byleth. She must play the catch-up game with the members of Black Eagles.

Nevertheless, that could wait. The Edelgard that stood in front of her is older and is in dire need of comfort. Byleth pulled Edelgard into another hug. With one hand holding her head, the professor pressed her lips on the top of the emperor’s head. If there were a few things that didn’t change, one of them was Edelgard’s sensitive and childish nature.

“I’m sorry I was gone for a long time.”

“All that matters is that you have returned to us, my teacher.”

[morkaischosen]

Lily September, the Holy Fool

Not so very long ago - last September, of course it was - a leviathan breached the waters of the Big Lake and on the shoreline died.

Only very slightly before that - before the dying, I mean, not the breaching - it spat up the unconscious body of a girl with long ash-blonde hair, clutching a bunch of lilies in her hands, and a crowd gathered around the presence of her.

Rushed to a hospital bed with gentle sunlight shining through the windows, those same lilies among the flowers in a vase by her side, she opened eyes of night and falling stars.

The doctor and the nurse asked if she could hear them, and she responded in fluent sign language. A brief delay to fetch an interpreter, and she was asked who she was, where she came from.

Stillness, for a long moment.

“I gave voice to words/lies that must not be spoken,” she replied with clear, formal gestures. “The water of the sea was salt.”

They asked her name, and again she thought for a moment and responded - quicker, now - “Seven horned stones,” but when her words were repeated aloud, she frowned. “Looks right, sounds wrong.”

Thus she asked them to name her Lily; Lily September, she was named.

Not so very much later, she was out of the hospital and finding her way around Fortitude; a little before that, lying in her hospital bed chafing to be about her business while the doctors insisted she wait to regain her full strength.

She had lost something, you see. Of it she says this: “It drowned in dreams and mysteries. We many came to share it and we few stayed to keep it, but it drowned with the thing that hid it. It must not be forgotten. I cannot remember it.”

“What has she lost?” people ask. “What are you looking for?”

Truth.

Since not so very long ago, Lily September has walked in and out of the lives of the people of Fortitude and of Town. Things revolve around the presence of her, when she lets them - birds follow in her footsteps, people come to see her, to learn from her and about her, though she spares barely a moment’s attention for most of them; an argument starts, and she slips away unseen.

Those who persist in efforts to come to her notice, or who look enough like they might have whatever it is she seeks, so that she turns her attention upon them - I would say they regret it, but I am not so sure that’s true.

Certainly they are changed by that experience. More sure of themselves, or less; become no more or less than they thought themselves to be, or doubting everything they thought they were, or with their flaws writ large in their flesh; but always looking more within than without, to their heart more than to the words of Lily September.

Perhaps a care for their improvement is why she takes the time to scrutinise them; but from the way she loses interest I think not. She talks often, and sincerely, of the stories people tell themselves about who we are; and when asked who she is, she tells tall tales of walking the world in its infancy, or of casting herself into the salt abyss even as the world was drowned beneath the Outside. The bitter smile she wears might seem to mock those who believe her. I say rather that it mocks herself, whether because she believes herself or because she does not.

Very rarely, when she is moved not to preach or teach or break but to share her heart of hearts, she may talk of a time before, and what came before time. Before there could be before, she says, when nothing moved in nothing, when chaos moved in the waters, all that was knew the certainty of emptiness. And to those she trusts with this her burden it is clearer than clear, truer than true, that she misses it, and that she wants for a clarity as pure as she once held.

I think she is looking for someone with a knowledge of their world that clear, that pure; but what will happen when she finds them I do not know.

Name: Lily September (but her sign name is much more like ‘seven horned stones’)

Academics skill: Average Sports skill: Good Favourite foods: Lentil and barley stew, goat’s-milk cheese. Blood type: O- Animal: Eel, huge. Age: The young end of your PC-appropriate age range.

Superior Holiness 4 (with Strange Rules; you’ll likely lean fairly heavily on the showing or displaying Truth angle here; on the other hand, your ability to inspire is more unsettling, more challenging, than most versions of this skill) Superior Hunter 1 (Perk, from Creature of Fable)

Signing, sai combat, and other things relating to the sound ‘sai’ 2 Surprising familiarity with pop culture 2

Perks

Bond (tied to an appropriate Issue???): “I must reject impurity and deception.” (Construe impurity as you prefer, but this is better treated as a spiritual, rather than a physical, thing - I see this Bond helping you sleep in a muddy ditch if the alternative is owing a favour to someone corrupt.)

Affliction 2 (tied to Allegory?): “I cannot speak.” (This is the symptom of a deeper problem - you used to speak your Lies, but you’ve lost sight of the True Thing, so at best you could manage Misunderstandings or Equivocations. You should only replace this Perk with another after some fairly significant character development addressing that void.)

Miraculous Powers

Allegory 2

You are a Holy Fool, an ascetic who transgresses the norms of society in pursuit of the sacred. Your Failing is Truth, or perhaps Self-Knowledge: you remember a time when you were certain of yourself and your place in the cosmos, but you have lost it; you test those around you, looking for a sure and certain soul to give you clarity of purpose. And, many years ago, you spoke the Lies of Iolithae Septimian, and the waters of the sea were salt.

Somebody Else’s Problem - Most of the time you are happy to let people notice you, but when you wish to slip away unnoticed you have the trick of turning their thoughts to deeper things, so they don’t notice you leaving. Attempts to describe you focus on the weight of your presence or the profundity of your signing, and miss such important details as what you were wearing or your long ash-blonde plait.

Stone-Shattering Gestures - Your Legendary Weapon is your knowledge of seven long-lost gestures of surpassing power, which can shatter walls and dynasties.

Wonder-Worker - When you scorn the rules of society, reveal truths and shatter deceptions, you can infuse your actions with miraculous weight.

A Tangled History - You walked the world speaking your Lies for countless aeons before it was drowned in dreams and ambiguity, but more than that - your words are in every drop of brine, in every fish - in almost every meal in Fortitude. You can declare you were involved historical events in the old world, or reveal that your spiritual presence in things of the deep involved you in any event in Town’s past.

Mechanisms of Transport - You can walk straight paths through the Outside, cloaking yourself in an older order; and when all else fails and your destination has a shoreline, consider throwing yourself into Big Lake to be swallowed by an appropriate fish.

Awaken - You alone have not forgotten the little spirits that are inside all things, and can remind them of themselves enough that they awake, for a time.

Bring to Fruition - You can transform someone into the essence of what they believe themselves to be, or conversely make manifest the shadowed corners of their soul in a form they can no longer ignore. This relies on mundane actions; since it involves displaying inner truths, Superior Holiness is likely to be suitable; have fun touching people on the forehead to open a third eye, or throwing water on people to wash away the mask from their true face!

Taboo may or may not be meant to be an Arc 2 trait. If it is, you have an additional Bond 2: “I must be treated with respect, for I am sacred.” You aren’t entirely sure why you must remain inviolate so, but it certainly used to be true; you can use this Bond to overcome obstacles that would prevent people respecting you, but as with all Bonds you need not let it spoil a scene where your identity struggles make it hard for you to accept your sacred nature.

Creature of Fable 1+

You are a story about what it means to be sacred, but it goes beyond that. You’re the legend of the statue with feet of clay. Your identity is that you don’t know who you are. You are the story that tells us that stories aren’t real.

This is causing some difficulties for your self-actualisation, but it does at least leave you well-placed to point out the flaws in the stories other people tell themselves.

Between the Boundaries - As your Something To Deal With rises, you find your acquaintances, passers-by and even the world around you responding to your needs as homage to the sacred thing you represent. People and animals bring you food, clothes and other things you need, or spread what you tell them. This can be very useful for ensuring a sign interpreter is around when you need one.

Strange Rules - You are, apparently, the last sacred vessel of the purity of the Not. Your Superior Holiness is protected by a Level 1 Auctoritas, and will improve as you pursue this Arc further.

Iconic - You have the raggedly striking look of a holy fool, which flirts with but maintains a little distance from the starkly elegant uniformed look of the Riders. Your clothes fray at the edges, and neatly-closed jackets rapidly lose buttons. You have a miraculous skill at losing shoes, but sandals are acceptable. You usually wear a simple unbleached linen dress belted with a long string of red jasper beads, black leggings that catch on something and tear in several places within about a minute of you putting them on, and a black jacket thrown haphazardly on top.

Superior Hunter - Little to say about this, other than that you remember when irrigation agriculture was new and exciting; you’re as much a creature of the wilderness before as the wilderness outside.

Cut the Soul - The holy emptiness of the Not allows you to catch a story someone tells the world and peel it away until the lie at its heart is revealed. If you are so inclined, you might like to treat this power as the last remaining memory of your old friend and debating partner Tairté ut-Napishtim. 

[donalsgirl]

Oscar Isaac’s Mom Died. Now He’s Working Out His Grief in ‘Hamlet.’

Oscar Isaac spent most of the fall and winter at a hospital in Florida, caring for his dying mother, Eugenia. As her condition deteriorated, he found himself reading aloud to her from “Hamlet.”

“I would just read the play all the time, do bits for her,” Mr. Isaac said.

An Elizabethan revenge tragedy with a substantial body count and heavy existential dread isn’t obvious bedside comfort. But Mr. Isaac, his mother and his sister were all Shakespeare obsessives. When he was growing up, they watched Franco Zeffirelli’s “Romeo and Juliet” over and over. “Me doing Shakespeare was her favorite thing,” Mr. Isaac said.

So reciting “Hamlet” to her at the hospital felt like the right thing. Sometimes it felt like the only thing. “I didn’t know how to process any of this, but this I knew how to do,” he said.

As her health declined, Shakespearean questions that had seemed abstract — What drives the dissolution of a family? How do you overcome crippling loss? — felt immediate and real, he said.

Continue reading the main story

“I know it happens to everybody, but it’d never happened to me,” he said. “I know people’s mothers have died, but this was mine.”

Mr. Isaac’s mother died in February, but “Hamlet” is still with him. For most of this heat-struck summer, he is performing as the tortured prince grieving the death of his father, six times a week for nearly four hours a throw at the Public Theater.

Mr. Isaac certainly has other ways to spend his days. For one, his first child, a son, was born in April. And his film career is booming. In a few short years, he’s graduated from indie artisan, with films like “Inside Llewyn Davis,” to bona fide star with roles in “X-Men: Apocalypse” and “Star Wars: The Force Awakens.” He can probably take whatever theater job he wants to or not take any theater job at all.

That said, “Hamlet” is a play that exerts a strange pull on a lot of movie and television stars (Benedict Cumberbatch, David Tennant, Jude Law, Ethan Hawke), and it’s a role just about any classically trained actor and plenty of actresses have dreamed of playing.

But it’s also a tragedy that asks Mr. Isaac to relive the anguished death of a parent at every performance. In Sam Gold’s rowdy, deconstructionist staging, every time Mr. Isaac mud-wrestles, or lofts a prop skull or performs a mad scene in just a T-shirt and briefs, he seems to be working through his own loss, transforming raw private grief into riveting public performance.

“It’s for my mom that I’m doing it,” he said. “It’s to honor her life, but also her death, which was so awful.”

ON A RECENT WEEKDAY, an hour before rehearsal, Mr. Isaac hunched in a booth at the back of the Library, the Public’s restaurant. Looking slighter in person than onscreen, he was sitting underneath a skull-bedizened poster for an earlier production of “Hamlet.” His black warm-up jacket was a modish update of Hamlet’s “inky cloak.” It wouldn’t have been a huge surprise if he had drawn a sword from underneath the table or spotted a ghost over by the bar.

This symbolic brazenness seemed like a joke; Mr. Isaac was probably in on it. He has a roguish sense of mischief that underlies even his more serious roles (“Ex Machina,” “A Most Violent Year”). And he’s one of the few actors of his generation who can combine the unrestrained volatility of a Method actor with pedigreed classical chops.

His Hamlet is antic, mercurial, unpredictable, but each line of verse comes across clearly, almost conversationally. As Oskar Eustis, the artistic director of the Public Theater — who helped cast a Juilliard-fresh Mr. Isaac in “Two Gentlemen of Verona” in 2005 and “Romeo and Juliet” two years later — said, “That combination, particularly in such a handsome man, it’s amazing.”

It’s that charisma that helped the “Star Wars” director J. J. Abrams decide not to kill off his character, Poe Dameron, who will reappear in the coming “Star Wars: The Last Jedi.” “The idea of Oscar Isaac as Poe coming back into the movie and being an ally to the cause got my blood pumping,” Mr. Abrams wrote in an email.

MR. ISAAC LOVED THEATER early. Born in Guatemala and raised by evangelical Christian parents in Miami, he had his first roles in religious plays. Even then, he played antiheroes. His first lead? The Devil. He devised an entrance from underneath the bleachers, scaring an adored teacher and exciting the interest of the popular girl he had a crush on.

“For that little moment, I thought, this is what I want to do,” he said.

Eventually he fell away from the church, and though his parents supported his acting ambitions, for a while he stopped that, too. He turned to music, migrating from soft rock to grunge rock to heavy metal, before landing in third-wave ska groups like the Worms and Blinking Underdogs, which attracted a local following.

Still, he never really shook theater. He studied it at community college and apprenticed at Area Stage Company in Miami. The artistic director got him reading Shakespeare again. “I didn’t really understand it,” Mr. Isaac said, “but I liked it a lot.”

He even developed an infatuation with the film soundtrack to the Zeffirelli “Hamlet.” On an impulse, he auditioned for Juilliard, using a monologue from Shakespeare’s “Henry IV” and arguing about its interpretation with the head of the drama division in the middle of his callback.

Richard Feldman, one of Mr. Isaac’s Juilliard teachers, remembered sensing in him “the best kind of artistic ambition,” adding: “I’m not talking about fame, I’m not talking about fortune. I’m talking about the hunger to be really good.”

At Juilliard, he met Mr. Gold, at the time a directing student. Mr. Gold was immediately struck by Mr. Isaac’s “easy energy and an easy relationship to his talent and having an incredible amount of talent” and a shared belief that “acting shouldn’t look hard,” Mr. Gold said.

The two of them fooled around with some comic scenes from “Hamlet,” making a pact to work together one day on the whole play. They both got “bit by it and obsessed by it,” Mr. Gold said, speaking by phone. Those talks continued, and two years ago, Mr. Isaac signed on, saying he felt he had to do it “before the knees give out.”

“You can only be so old and be upset that your mom remarried,” he said.

Once he’d agreed, Mr. Isaac began reading academic books, watching famous past performances, playing a recording of John Gielgud’s Hamlet “and just listening to the beauty of that man’s voice,” he said. After creative tensions with the production’s original home, Theater for a New Audience, “Hamlet” shifted to the Public Theater, where Mr. Isaac had made his post-Juilliard debut, and dates were set.

But then his mother got sick and his partner, the documentary filmmaker Elvira Lind, got pregnant, and suddenly “there were a lot of things that really connected on a very personal level,” he said. As Mr. Isaac explained, performing has always helped him come to terms with his emotions. “This is how I’m able to function,” he said. “The only way that I’m really able to process stuff is through reflecting it.”

Some of the visual language that he and Mr. Gold settled on — the syringes, the IVs, the PICC lines — make his memories and associations even more visceral. His Hamlet wears rumpled clothes and has a 5 o’clock shadow (if you’ve seen Mr. Isaac’s movies, you know his facial hair is a key to character) to approximate “the look and feel of spending long hours visiting a loved one at the hospital,” he said.

In the first days of rehearsal, Mr. Gold worried “that there would be things in this play that would be such deep triggers that he wouldn’t be able to make it through the show,” he said. But he watched Mr. Isaac use the play’s words “to contextualize what he was going through,” he said.

Mr. Isaac didn’t worry about making a timeworn speech like “To be or not to be” sound new. As soon as he says the words, he is instantly reminded of his personal loss and “the feeling that grief can just make you want to stop,” he said.

At the same time, he never really discussed that personal life in the rehearsal room. “It was always a very subtle thing hovering in the air, ” Mr. Gold said. Instead, he threw himself into experimenting with the role — physically, vocally — and worked on making his colleagues laugh.

Keegan-Michael Key, who plays Hamlet’s pal Horatio, noted that Mr. Isaac, who bought a Ping-Pong table for the rehearsal room, “likes to have fun.” Onstage he’ll often monkey with a pronunciation or arch an eyebrow just to get a rise out of a cast mate.

“He’ll do it on purpose just to keep everyone on their toes,” Mr. Key said. “The more alive it is, the more uncertain it is, the more dynamic it is.”

Mr. Isaac said that performing the play hasn’t felt especially dour. When he comes offstage after four hours he feels energized, he said.

That’s in part because the play isn’t only for his mother. When he acts, he’s also thinking of his 2-month-old son, Eugene, named after her. The baby has Eugenia’s lips, he said, and her hands.

He brought Eugene to the first run-through (“I think some of the more philosophical and theological aspects of the play were above his head,” Mr. Gold joked), and it’s Eugene he thinks of when reciting the “to be” part of the “to be or not to be” soliloquy.

As Mr. Isaac explains, the speech is about dying — that’s the “not to be” part — but it’s also about choosing to go on living. And Mr. Isaac has better reasons to go on than Hamlet does.

“You have a child,” he said, “and you must — you must for their sake — you must say yes to life.”

Source

[seasaltmemories]

Demons Chapter 11

Rating: T

Summary: There's nothing broken about you. We just need to allow ourselves the privilege to exist.

When Petra woke up, her head was pounding like a drum. It felt as if she had to carry concrete slabs with her pinky toe just to lift her eyelids. The closest thing to a coherent thought she could muster was regret over drinking whatever beverage it was that could cause a killer hang-over like this. Still as she slowly came to her senses, she realized this felt nothing like that. Whatever this was, it was worse, as if Life itself had picked her up and wrung every drop of energy from her body.

Then a set of bars came into focus, and immediately it was like none of that pain matter anymore. Petra sat up not only to find herself locked in a cell, but a blonde girl sitting across from her.

She looked to be no older than her mid-teens and even smaller than Petra herself, but that did nothing to ease her nerves. There was a dangerous aura to her, one of a soldier, someone trained in discipline. Despite this, she didn't even seem to regard Petra as more threatening than a fly. Somehow that was most frightening thing about the situation, someone holding so much power yet regarding it as nothing.

"Where am I..." As slurred and mumbled her words came out, the girl instantly turned to face her, cool blue eyes glaring at her. For a moment, Petra truly feared for her life, but slowly the girl answered her question.

"You have been detained and arrested by the Holy Legion."

At the sounds of those words, Petra's heart sank like a stone. Memories of Captain's last words came to the forefront of her mind.

Don't trust anyone or anything related to the Holy Legion, if you hear that name, run

And here she had gone and gotten herself captured by them instead.

After the jump, Captain had wanted to sleep for a week. Jumping from one created dimension to the next was nothing like he was used to. Even with his additional training, it still felt like running marathon in an hour. Usually he tried to take a break for a few days just to recharge his batteries.

But then one worry kept tugging at his mind from time to time, keeping him from relaxing fully. He knew Petra wasn't the type to look fondly on him getting a bit overprotective, but it felt wrong to leave her out there without a clue of what was going on. They had been doing this for decades while she was still so green behind the ears.

She could deck you in the face for this kind of behavior you know

And maybe he really deserved it. There was no no explanation for visiting her dorm at this hour that wouldn't paint him as a creep. Still at the very least he needed to rest his nerves. He'd be able to heal a lot faster without having to worry about her on top of everything else.

It was difficult getting into an area so densely populated by humans who had no sense when it came to their sleep schedules. Still stealth was his specialty, and he found himself inside soon enough. At first it seemed as if no one was there, but suddenly he heard a voice.

Quickly he hid as he tried to distinguish the source. It sounded like that girl he had seen hanging around Petra few times. Captain began to listen closely to the individual words she was saying.

"Hey Ian, Petra texted me saying she was gonna stay over with you. Apparently she had something going on today that was located near you and didn't want to make the trip here late at night."

Hearing that news was like having a weight lifted off his chest. He didn't think he had the right to thank God or anything else holy, but the desire to was raw and real. In his relief he almost didn't hear the last part of the conversation.

"What?! You're saying she didn't make it over there!?"

The worst part about being captured was the silence. Her jailer wasn't the chatty type, which left her alone to think about her failure over and over again. Her subconscious replayed the moments right before she was captured. Each time she remembered the it, it was like getting punched in the gut. No matter what she did it seemed her efforts were always useless.

At some point she was taken out of her cell to be read her "charges" for all her crimes by a mysterious

figure cloaked in white. As nice as it was to stretch her legs, it left her more confused than anything else.

"You are charged with collaborating with demonic forces." The figure announced. "Depending on how long and how far this relationship has gone, your sentence will be extended."

"So what does that mean from you weirdos? Do I get a time-out for not living up to whatever cult you run?"

"I suggest you not take the Holy Legion so lightly." Their voice took on a dangerous tone. "We're the only thing that stands between humanity and its destruction. Having infidels like you work together with such monsters makes it even harder to cleanse the world. If I were you I'd show some repentance. Those who don't beg for forgiveness are treated the same as a demon."

Something about those words set off a switch in Petra. Maybe she would have taken this better if she had already cut off contact with Captain and the gang and would have thought before she spoke. Maybe is she wasn't tired and scared out of her wits she would have tried to act pragmatically. Maybe if for a year now it hadn't felt like her life was being run by everyone but herself she would have known not to piss off those who held her life in their hands. Even so, she had grown already sick of whatever freakshow this was.

"Where were you my entire life then?" Her words were as sharp as a knife. "I spent my childhood convinced I was out of my fucking mind. Demons haunted my every move, but apparently they weren't important until I finally found some peace, and now you want to take it away?" Without thinking she raised her fist to strike them, when suddenly she was slammed to the floor by the blonde guard from before.

"Thank you, Ariel." The clocked figure bowed as she dug her heel deeper into Petra's back.

And so her brief stint out of the cell was ended. Looking back she would have taken more of those cryptic threats over this silence. She was still without a clue of what exactly this Holy Legion was up to. All she knew for sure was that she had damned herself in their eyes, and their road to redemption was unlikely to be one she'd like.

With a sigh, Petra raked a hand down her face. This is what she gets for trying to make sense of her madness, to try and find a purpose in her life.

What am I going to do?

At this point she wasn't even sure she could pray to anyone for help.

Faster and faster, Captain teleported himself through the streets of Sina. It was a crazy plan, one even Girly wouldn't have ever suggested. Still the Holy Legion would have to be blind not to notice him this way. Eventually, they'd come to attack him and that's when his search for Petra would really begin.

He knew Commander and Four-Eyes would never allow this sort of behavior to happen. He could practically hear their more logical arguments with each jump. How do you expect to take on the Holy Legion yourself? Do you expect to be able to fight demon hunters after exhausting yourself out? Who knows if they really have Petra. For all he knows she could already be dea-

Captain bit his tongue hard. No, he would not accept that. She was his partner for a good reason, brave as hell and even fiercer. If any human could survive them it was her. It had to be her. Even so he couldn't sit around just twiddling his thumbs while she was in danger.

"Wait for me Petra, I'm coming," He whispered to himself. He'd rescue her no matter what stood in the way.

It was hard to keep track of time. Even if Petra hadn't been busy wallowing her own self-pity, there was no windows or any other signs that could have helped her. So when she found a plate of food and a glass of water set before her, she couldn't help but look up in surprise.

"Eat." It was the first time her guard had spoken to her, making the situation all the more surreal.

Without even thinking, Petra said, "Thank you, Ariel..."

For some reason that made her freeze up. It was another first of hers, showing some emotion besides bland neutrality.

"Is that not what the other dude called you?"

"It is..." She brushed a few strands of hair behind her eye. "But it's not a name I expected to hear from a prisoner of all people."

"A name's a name. why does it matter who says it?" Petra pretended to be occupied with tearing a loaf of bread into smaller pieces. This might be her only opportunity to fish for information. The worst thing she could do would be to ruin it all because she got too eager.

"It's less a name and more a title. Your kind knows very well the power names have." There was a slight quirk to her lips that could be mistaken for a smirk.

Damn it, so she wasn't as subtle as she'd have prefer. Oh well at least Ariel seemed entertained by her antics.

"Did you get to choose it yourself? Because if it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is remind me of the redhead mermaid from that one movie."

"The reference is more academic than that." She approached Petra's cell to sit across from her, movements effortless graceful as if belonging to a dancer. "The protagonist of Shakespeare's The Tempest, has two slaves: Ariel and Caliban. The former was obedient and well-loved, earning his freedom at the end for his good deeds. The latter was unruly and regarded as inhuman. While he does receive forgiveness in the end, his fate is unclear. The Holy Legion mirrors such behavior for sinners like us. If you act as an Ariel, you're one step closer to earning redemption. On the other hands, Calibans fates are more ambiguous." Even without having observed her quiet nature before, it was obvious that Ariel was not used to speaking this much. Her words came out stilted and awkward, like she was reading a script in a foreign language.

"So am I a Caliban in your eyes?" Petra leaned forward, no longer hiding her interest.

"Everyone starts out as Caliban before the Holy Legion recruits them. Very few are strong enough to dedicated themselves fully to eradicating demons from this world. However a Caliban can always change into an Ariel if they wish to. Your choice is simple. If the Holy Legion runs out of patience though, then soon your disobedience will be punished."

"What happened to that forgiveness?"

"It is always granted at first, but if it is not accepted by the recipient, judgment must be dealt."

"Why tell me this, though?"

"Because I'm tired of unnecessary violence." She gave a long sigh that sounded centuries old. "You seem smart enough to know when to fold your hand." While she tried to remain impersonal and detached, one ghost of an emotion still tainted her words. She seemed lonely, but that wasn't even the most surprising thing she found about her.

The more she looked at Ariel, the more she reminded reminded Petra of herself as a teen, someone who felt so alone and alien in her own world.

All this purple prose and odd behavior was making her head spin. So far what she knew about this Holy Legion was not adding up. Their job was to destroy demons and ones who associated with them like her, yet that was where they tried to recruit their workforce. They named their workers in a very demonic fashion based on if they earned redemption for some unknown sin or-

A thought came to Petra that was shocking, she had to keep from yelping at the revelation. Dear lord, if she was right...

"You're right. I'm not stupid. If that's the only way I can survive, then I'll join y'all." She waited for the right moment, when Ariel's body seemed to loosen up ever so slightly and her guard was let down for a half-second, and then she reached through the bars of her cell to grip her as fiercely as possible.

She fought and bit and screamed to get Petra off her, but her grip was unshakeable. It had to be here. She couldn't be wrong. Then suddenly it flashed before her eyes.

The key.

The crowd seemed to roar louder than any beast alive. One name kept getting chanted over and over again. Annie. Annie. However one quiet voice managed to impact her more than they ever could.

"You have to win this, Annie. You've come so far to make it to the championship. I will not accept failure from you. Do not let her beat you."

With that, Annie stepped into the ring to face her opponent. Already she felt a fraction of her resolve wavering. She looked hardly like a teen her age, more as if Athena herself had come down to Earth and had decided to take up boxing. Even so she tried to stay strong. Dad wouldn't accept failure.

Once the match started, it felt like it would go one forever. Again and again the two weaved around each other, not giving the other an inch. Ugh, they couldn't play this game forever. She had to strike now.

With all her strength, Annie lunged forward with a left hook; however, as she stepped forward, she found herself slipping in a puddle of sweat and hitting her head against her opponent's chair.

Then there was only darkness.

When Petra came back to the real world, she found the demon glowering at her. She looked like a feral animal, and somehow Petra knew if she didn't save her, Annie would decide to kill her.

"You're life has always been this way, Annie. Instead of making your own decisions, someone else has told you what you needed to do, and if you didn't live up to their expectations they beat you into the ground for it."

"You fucking bitch!" She snarled, pulling out a key from her pocket. "I'll-"

"To be honest I've suffered in the same way. First I tried living up to the expectations of human society and simply denying a part of myself, and then I started only valuing the part of me that could live in demon society."

She plunged the key to the lock and all but ripped open the door. This was it, there was no escape if Petra didn't act now.

"Things aren't going to get better for either of us, if we stop trying to be the person others want to be and just choose to be ourselves! It doesn't matter that you're a demon, Annie. There's nothing broken about you. We just need to allow ourselves the privilege to exist!"

Petra closed her eyes, waiting for a fist to connect with her face, but it never happened. When she dared to open her eyes again, she found Annie fading away right before her. For some reason she found her mouth trying to speak, to say something, anything about the situation, but the words wouldn't come. Even so, as she disappeared, a ghost of a whisper passed by Petra's ear.

"Thank you..."

For a beat, all Petra could do was shiver from the chills it sent down her spine. Had that all been intention on her part? Had Annie really wanted to be saved instead of a slave to those who condemned her? Whatever it didn't matter. She could think about such matters once she got out of here. Of course then there was that matter of Petra didn't know where exactly she was...

It was right then she heard a noise coming from the door. Someone was on their way to this room and were coming fast. Despite her lack of weapons or anything really to defend herself, Petra immediately fell into a fighting stance. If she were to die here, then she would go down with a fight.

The door flew open, but instead of eerie figures in white clocks, only one familiar person stood.

It was Captain.

A thousand emotions seemed to run counter to each other in Petra: relief, confusion, joy, fear. Captain though just stared and stared, like she was a miracle just for taking a breath. A part of herself screamed to shoved that inside the deepest dark vault inside her mind, to not let anything dangerous spill out.

Petra said screw that, and leaped into his arms with no regrets.

"Petra," He whispered her name like a prayer. His face was buried in her shoulder, his grip around her frame almost vicelike. All the adrenaline from before began to drain from her body, and suddenly all she wanted to do was collapse and just sob her heart out until there were no tears left. Instead of flinching from such display of vulnerability, Captain simply rubbed his hand in soothing circles and murmured gentle sounds.

"Come on, Girly. Let's get you home."

When Captain came to see her after she had settled down, she felt his presence more than anything else. Her attention had been fully occupied by a Greek shoreline, but at the familiar zap of teleportation, she knew he had returned. Without even turning her head, Petra greeted him.

"Anything you need."

"Just wanting to make sure you're ok after that phone call." He moved to sit next to her. Four Eyes had been the one to deal with most of the details of relocating. At this point it was just tying up the loose ends so she could disappear effectively. Who knew that would be so painful though?

"I'm not sure Dad was processing it. All the money just blew his mind, but then to hear about that witness protection story, it might have been just too much."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." His words were awkward, but it was the intent that mattered.

"I appreciate it. Still I hope I don't have to leave Sina forever. Even if it's only for a little while I want to see Rico and Dad at least one more time."

"This isn't the first time we've had to move shop because of the Holy Legion. If they see your face in town, they'd jump you right away."

"And you think that would stop me?" She raised an eyebrow and shot him a cocky grin.

Captain smiled back. "No it wouldn't." For a beat the two of them just sat there, enjoying the other's company. But unfortunately nothing can last forever. It wasn't long before he was asking her another question.

"So what are your plans now? You want out?"

Petra licked her lips, trying to find the right words. "Not exactly. I think I'm going to start studying the connection between demons and history, specifically in portrayals of mythology. I told you I loved Greek mythology, didn't I? This is the perfect way to put that and my demon knowledge to use."

"But does that mean we're still partners?"

Hazel eyes met silver, so sharp and piercing and a million other things that made her inside do flips.

"Not necessarily. I may not be staying in the demon taming business, but things don't have to change that much."

"What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. In. Out. Then slowly she laced their fingers together. "What exactly are we?" It was impossible to say who kissed who first, but it wasn't long before they were drinking each other completely in. As the two of them pulled back for air, a content sigh passed from her lips.

"...I have no idea how relationships like this even go, but do you want to give it a try?" It was strange seeing Captain bashful of all people. The tips of his ears were flushed red, and he seemed determined to look anywhere but her eyes.

Petra thought on the past year's trials and tribulations, of her revelation when captured by the Holy Legion, and all the other anxieties that had been gnawing at her core.

"I want you," she finally said. "I want to everything and anything my heart desires from now on."

Captain grinned. "Then let's get started."

A.N. After way longer than this story should have taken, it's done. It kinda feels unreal. On one hand this story is almost from a different time period in my life. I was 15 when I started this and still figuring out a lot about myself and now three years later and I'm heading for college in less than a week. I've changed so much as a person, I wondered if I was even telling the same story I started out as. Even so I glad to be able to finish this project once and for all. Thank you so much for your support. I love all my readers~