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Rhea was pleasantly surprised to find out that Byleth seemed to take great satisfaction in helping others. It was only befitting of Sothis’ vessel to share the same benevolence the goddess possessed. It pleased Rhea even more that Byleth was willing to fulfill most any request she personally asked, no matter how menial the task. While most of the other faculty found their new co-worker’s subdued nature unnerving, Rhea could read Byleth’s face and tone quite easily. After all, Sitri had been much the same way. Until she met Jeralt.

Jeralt Eisner. Rhea was still rather fond of him, despite his apparent betrayal. She could allow him to keep his distance from her as long as he never raised his sword at the church. He’d taken his title as a Knight of Seiros back with less reluctance than expected. For this, Rhea thanked her mother above – Jeralt was an excellent soldier and commander. His presence around the monastery made Rhea more comfortable. In his youth, he reminded her of Wilhelm, which is why she supposed she favored Jeralt all those years ago.

As Rhea reflected on Jeralt, her thoughts were inevitably pulled to the last, painful memory she had of Sitri – her twelfth attempt at creating the ideal vessel. She had come to see Sitri almost as a daughter. Her poor health barred her from ever hosting Sothis’ power, but killing her to take the crest stone back was too cruel. It would have been no different from those monsters slaughtering Rhea’s kin in Zanado. When the sickly girl had announced her engagement to Jeralt, Rhea had given her blessing without a second thought. Jeralt brought Sitri to life. She was owed at least that much for all her suffering.

Sitri had come to her one day absolutely radiant with joy. She was pregnant. Rhea had schooled her expression into a gracious smile, hiding her shock. This was something the archbishop never would have anticipated. How was this possible? Surely Sitri would lose the infant early on.

But she did not lose the child.

As Rhea’s twelfth attempt lay on her deathbed in a pool of blood that could not be staunched, she asked that her last moments be spent with the archbishop, whom she saw as a mother. Jeralt had nearly been thrown from the room, not wanting to leave his wife’s side. The babe had entered the world without a sound nor a breath nor a beating heart. It would be even more painful for Jeralt to go on without even his own child. Rhea had held her…daughter’s hand gently, and leaned in close to hear her final words. Save the baby, Sitri had croaked, delirious in her death throes. Rhea’s mind had scrambled for anything to say, anything that might comfort the girl before her. In any other circumstance, she would have offered some platitude – that the goddess would prevail – but that seemed wrong.

And then Rhea had glanced at the stillborn infant. Perhaps not all was lost. Sitri’s body could not handle the power of the crest stone. Although she never turned into a demonic beast, her health had always been fragile. But Sitri’s child possessed Rhea’s blood – Sothis’ blood – from both parents. Rhea whispered to her dear Sitri that she would be able to save the infant, and though she hesitated divulging what the cost would be, Sitri had only sighed with relief and nodded as she lost consciousness.

With a heavy heart, Rhea had cut open Sitri’s chest and removed her mother’s crest stone. It seemed large in her hand as Rhea hovered over the stillborn babe. She’d carefully implanted the stone in the girl’s chest cavity, next to her un-beating heart, and sealed the wound with white magic honed over many centuries of healing wounds. There would be no scar to mar the child’s flesh. No evidence of the procedure.

Rhea had cloaked Sitri’s body in a white blanket and had her most trusted monks take her to be embalmed deep under the monastery. There had been a tense, hopeless few moments before the baby girl finally took a breath. She had leaned in to listen to the infant’s breathing, only to find that even her sharp hearing could not pick up on a heartbeat. The child began to move, but no sound left her throat. No scream to announce new life.

But the baby lived. Against all odds, Rhea’s hasty operation had succeeded. Nothing in her centuries of experience had ever suggested that this was possible. It was a leap of faith fueled by a dying wish. Rhea was torn between sorrow, having lost someone who had shone so brightly, and hope for Sothis’ return. Surely it was auspicious that the crest stone brought life to a still heart.

And so, Rhea had washed her bloody hands clean and swaddled the girl in clean blankets to present her to Jeralt. As she’d gazed at the newly minted father weeping as he held the puny life in his hands, Rhea promised herself she would prevail in her mission to revive the goddess. This loss would not be in vain.

Rhea was pulled out of her reminiscing as Catherine announced a visitor’s presence. “Lady Rhea, Byleth is here to see you.” As always, Catherine’s voice was loud and clear even through the thick wood of the doors to her personal quarters. Rhea crossed the floor of her room quickly to open the door herself. She saw Catherine guarding the entrance rather aggressively and Byleth standing there with a bewildered look in her large blue eyes.

“You summoned me?” The young professor asked. Catherine seemed suspicious. Rightfully so, Rhea reasoned, seeing as she rarely received anyone in her chambers.

“Yes, I did. Catherine, please let her come in.”

Catherine frowned, but obliged at once. She adjusted Thunderbrand on her belt and assumed a more relaxed stance.

“I believe Shamir has some information pertinent to your next mission. I think the professor is more than capable of protecting me in your stead.” Catherine’s brow twitched as it did when she was irritated, but only nodded curtly and left Rhea and Byleth alone without complaint. Rhea beckoned the other woman in and closed the door behind them. She pulled the only chair in the room from her private dining table for Byleth to sit.

“You will have to forgive my manners. It’s not often I entertain others here.”

Byleth took her seat without saying anything. She seemed a little apprehensive, but not afraid. Rhea took the opportunity to take in the sight before her. The muscles of Byleth’s arms and legs looked thicker, and her face was fuller than when she had first arrived. She looked strong and healthy. For a moment, Rhea allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to be held in those arms when her mother returned. It would feel safe and warm, she thought, and the world would be right again.

“You look well,” Rhea finally said, “I take it you are growing accustomed to monastery life?”

Byleth nodded slowly, still unsure. “Yes, Lady Rhea.”

“Please, when we are together like this, I am speaking to you not as the archbishop, but as myself.” Rhea smiled gently. “Ah, you must be wondering why I invited you here. I simply wish to know you better. Jeralt and I used to be quite close, so I feel as though you are something akin to family.”

“He…never mentioned you until we arrived at the monastery.” Well, that certainly wounded Rhea. It was clear that Byleth was like Jeralt – blunt – but honest. At the very least, Jeralt hadn’t turned his daughter against her.

“While it hurts me to hear that, I suppose remembering his time here might bring forth some unpleasant memories.” The way Byleth sat up straighter did not slip by Rhea’s watchful gaze. “Unfortunately, I feel that it not my place to disclose those particular memories. Would you like to hear about how we came to meet?”

If Byleth was disappointed, she did not show it. “I’d like that very much.”

And so Rhea told Byleth the tale of how Jeralt, a brazen young mercenary, took as blow meant for her. He’d been mortally wounded, and Rhea had taken it upon herself to heal the boy. She omitted exactly how she managed to save Jeralt’s life, of course. Rhea went on to explain how she had offered Jeralt a position as a Knight of Seiros and how he quickly earned the respect and admiration of his comrades.

“He quickly became the prime example of what every knight should aspire to.”

“I had no idea. Thank you for telling me.” Whatever tension Byleth held in her posture had long disappeared. “I was wondering if you know about my mother? He must have met her here, if he spent so much time as a knight.” Her large blue eyes were full of questions. Rhea’s heart throbbed in her chest. She had met many orphans over her long life. Not knowing one’s parents was unspeakably painful – and knowing one’s parents and having them ripped away hurt even more. And yet, Rhea had not figured out how she would tell Byleth about Sitri.

A loud series of raps on the door saved Rhea from an uncomfortable explanation. It was a double-edged blade, though, as it meant her time with Byleth was at its end. Rhea placed a hand on Byleth’s shoulder in a placating gesture. It warmed her that the other woman did not shy away. “That is for Jeralt to tell you. I would not betray his trust. But know that you are always welcome here.”

“I understand. Thank you again.” Byleth stood and made her way out, only for Seteth to come in. He frowned slightly, and Rhea knew he wanted to say something.

Her relative chose wisely and kept quiet on the matter. He finally spoke when Byleth was out of earshot. “We have word that Lord Lonato of House Gaspard is amassing troops to challenge us. The western church must be suppressed before they sow more discontent.” Rhea’s good mood spoiled in an instant.

“How many knights do we have in the monastery?” Rhea’s voice dropped low as she felt hot rage bubbling through her body. Those who dared bare their fangs at her would be crushed.

“Not very many. Many of them are out doing patrols or running drills.”

“House Gaspard does not have a standing army. A handful of trained infantry at best.”

“No, but Lord Lonato has received support from a local militia.”

“Those numbers are inconsequential. Send Catherine and her battalion. The Black Eagle House will join them. They will subdue Lonato’s men and bring the western bishops back here for judgment.” Seteth grunted his begrudging agreement and left to give the orders, leaving Rhea alone with her thoughts. The traitors would be taken care of shortly. This knowledge calmed her as she made her way to the Star Terrace to pray to her mother.

As of late, Rhea swore she could hear the faintest whispers in response to her prayers. What the whispers said, she could not tell. But when she finished her worship and took time to meditate, her mind was drawn back to Byleth’s hopeful eyes.

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