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Part 1 of The Lion and The Lotus
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2020-11-22
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2024-02-11
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44/?
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The Lion and The Lotus

Summary:

The Prince of Faerghus unites with a mysterious Professor from Duscur to uncover the Truth about the Lambert Assassination. Comes with fan art and memes. Starts serious, gets hilarious, tears tears tears.

Excerpt: Ch11

The Prince of Faerghus leaned across her table. “Tell us what you know about the Tragedy of Duscur. You investigated it.”

“I investigated if the people of Duscur were there. They were not. I can't tell you what happened outside of this.”

“Professor Parvati.” Dedue picked up her business proposal. “You are the kind of person who has a backup plan for her backup plan. You made a document like this overnight for your enjoyment. You were hand-selected by the Church of Seiros. You enjoy the patronage of the Prime Minister of Adrestia. Do you really believe you can fool us into thinking you did not do a thorough job? On this?” He put the proposal down. “Please. Don’t insult us.”

Professor Parvati shot him a look. “You are stabbing me in the back, Dedue.”

“No, Professor. I assure you,” Prince Dimitri said, chuckling. “If you ever cross Dedue, he will stab you in the front. I promise.”

Notes:

The Prince of Faerghus unites with a mysterious Professor from Duscur to uncover the Truth about the Lambert Assassination. Starts serious, gets hilarious, tears tears tears.

This work has a fantasy novel-style appendix: Companion Document for Fandom-Blind Readers - useful for anyone. Now includes fan art and memes!

Chapter 1: The Earth That Meets the Sky

Summary:

A mysterious new professor arrives at the Officer’s Academy. Her invite to the monastery is not what it seems.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Garreg Mach Monastery

Fire Emblem Three Houses - Official Art


Deep in the center of Fódlan, a crown of mountains protects its heart. In the center of these mountains is the tallest mount of all, and atop this mount stands the Garreg Mach Monastery.

It is said to be The Earth That Meets the Sky.

Here, white banners of the Church of Seiros pierce sparkling azure skies. Golden bells ring from every tower, and in one year from this day, the hills will be slick crimson with the blood of soldiers who come to knock the Goddess out of the sky.

There are many stories of how this comes to happen. There are many stories why. Thousands of stories from over a thousand years…

But those stories are wrong.

This is the one true story. This one is called The Lion and The Lotus.


Enter the Viceroy of the Monastery. His name is Seteth. He is a man at once gentle and stern. He is second-in-command at the Monastery, and in his office, he directs two trusted subordinates with one untrusting task.

“Catherine, Shamir, I bring you together today for a more covert task. We have a new professor arriving today, and I want you to make yourselves her ‘friend.’ At every step, report to me her intentions, aims and desires. The Archbishop and I have reason to believe she bears ill will towards the Church. We must gather evidence if this be the case.”

Stalwart and headstrong Catherine says it will be done. Knife-tossing sniper Shamir complains about making friends and baby-sitting. But the Knights of Seiros go on their way, seeking the professor who matches Seteth’s description.

“New professor, huh?” says Catherine, trotting out into the apple-crisp sun. From the vantage point of the stairs leading down from the monastery, she and Shamir survey the marketplace below. “What do you think she’s going to be like, Shamir?”

Shamir says, “I don’t know.”

“Oh, pretend like you care,” her partner insists.

“I don’t.” Shamir is too busy being offended about being asked to be a tour guide to pretend. “That must be her,” she says, pointing.

Catherine frowns when she sees what Shamir pointed at. She asks, “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Catherine frowns. “But she’s from Duscur,” she says.

“What’s wrong with Duscur?” asks Shamir.

Past the stalls of fruits and vegetables is a tea tent. Past the tea tent and the grill of smoking meats is the blacksmith and the battalion ward. And past them, in a large avenue, mills pilgrims and soldiers. Here, traveling caravans park their loads. A carriage has come to a stop.

Just stepping out of this carriage is a woman who looks Catherine’s age, with the telltale brown skin and silver hair of Duscur. She nods to an Imperial knight. The knight directs the merchant beside him to the cart that followed her carriage, and when the merchant returns to her, she accepts what he was holding into her hands.

“What’s wrong with Duscur?” Shamir asks again.

Catherine says, “Nothing.

The woman turns around. In her hand is a golden birdcage. With her right arm outstretched to hold up the dome cage, Catherine could see what the woman is wearing underneath the gleaming green cloak. It was surprisingly Adrestian: a black turtleneck hugs her body, and black jeans bottom out into flares. Gold chains perch along her waist and her neck, though. It seems she is true to at least one custom of the Duscuri; they are always bejeweled in gold.

The marketplace starts noticing. Looks in passing turn into abject stares. People lean in to whisper together. There are two types of people here: the ones who turn away when her even gaze lands on them, and the ones who hold her eyes in challenge.

She loses interest in them. Then, from across the marketplace, the professor looks directly at Catherine and Shamir.

Catherine gets tense. “Let’s go,” she says to Shamir.

The Knights of Seiros cross the marketplace. When they get to her, the professor is beholding the sheer size of the megalithic monastery behind them. Using the book in her left hand to block the sun, she traces the top of its closest tower with her teal eyes. “Stay close to me, Randolph,” they hear her say to the knight as they approach. The Imperial knight takes a place beside her and eyes Shamir and Catherine warily.

“So I hear you’re the new professor,” says Catherine.

“I am one of them,” the woman says. She pockets her book and extends a hand in a white glove. “Please call me Parvati.”

Catherine is surprised to shake hands the Adrestian way. The professor has a firm grip, and she gives two quick pumps.

“Randolph tells me you’re Thunder Catherine,” Professor Parvati says. “He’s regaled me with your legends for the last two hours, and now, I can’t keep any of them straight.”

“Dr. Sinha!” The Imperial knight gives her a side-eye, to which she returns a remorseless grin. He bows and introduces himself. “Randolph von Bergliez, Commander of the Fifth Division.”

“Fifth Division? Of the Imperial Army?” says Catherine.

Shamir introduces herself, then says, “Quite the non-trivial escort.”

She’s right. Catherine is beginning to see other von Bergliez soldiers marching along two covered caravans entering the marketplace. The carriage itself has the insignia of von Bergliez stamped upon its doors. So focused was Catherine upon the professor, she hadn’t noticed the Imperial knight beside her is no lowly escort. Likewise, the von Bergliez soldiers are scoping Catherine and Shamir out, in more ways than one.

“I brought a few National Treasures with me,” the professor explains, looking back at the caravan. “Is the Viceroy ready to receive…?”

Shamir and Catherine exchange a glance. 

National treasures? thinks Catherine. Who is this woman?

“This must be what Seteth was referring to,” says Shamir. “He’ll come to receive it himself. But until then, Catherine and I are here. We’ve come to help you settle in, take you to your apartment, and deliver you to the Archbishop shortly.”

Parvati doesn’t look prepared for a welcoming party. She looks from Catherine to Shamir, then says, “I think we should wait. I am not entirely…” She looks at Randolph.

“My soldiers are watching over them,” he says.

“I know,” she says in a very meaningful way. She makes the mistake of looking past his shoulder at them.

The von Bergliez soldiers start hooting and hollering.

“Get a room, Randolph!”

“Yeah, Commander, get whipped!”

“Heh heh, like, lit’rally bruh!”

“Laslow! Bacardi!” Randolph yells back. His eyes flicker once to the Knights of Seiros as he turns red.

“Wow,” says Catherine.

Randolph starts blathering. “We should go now. Can we go now, Parvati? We should go.”


When they get to the professor’s apartment in the Faculty Hall, Shamir parks the rolling luggage in a corner. “This is right above Alois,” she says. “You’ll hear him sing nightly.”

“Oh,” says Parvati hesitantly. “Is that a good thing?”

Shamir shrugs unhelpfully.

Catherine follows them in, watching the professor disappear down the hall to explore her new accommodations. Randolph places the bird cage on a table big enough to host large card games. The birds chatter incessantly. 

What was a woman from Duscur doing in Adrestia? Catherine wonders. “Let’s not keep the Archbishop long,” she says out loud.

“The Archbishop!” mutters Randolph. He examines the towels hung artfully alongside one wall and calls, “Parvatiiii…don’t use these towels… Some of them need to be washed.”

“Oookaaay!” she calls back to him.

He turns back to the Knights of Seiros and asks, “So what is the Archbishop like?”

It is the right question to open Catherine’s heart. Before Catherine has the chance to laud her lady, however, they hear an indignant cry. “What’s this?” says Parvati, pointing.

“A bookshelf,” supplies Shamir unhelpfully.

“No, I know that, but — why is it full already?”

“Hanneman’s surplus,” Shamir supplies, this time helpfully.

“Hanneman! Half these books are discredited already!” cries Parvati. “Tell him to take back his books!”

“May I suggest not making that the first thing he hears you say?” Randolph warns. He makes a hand motion she must be accustomed to seeing, telling her to lower her voice. With his foot, he gently closes the door.

“Oh, he’s heard plenty from me,” says Parvati. “Where is he?”

Shamir looks at Catherine. She knows Hanneman? the look says. Shamir tells her he is away for some personal business.

This does not please Parvati. She says, “What! He was the one who told me, Bring Randolph!”

Randolph’s eyebrows go up. This is new information to him.

“Come on,” says Catherine, getting impatient. “The Archbishop is waiting.”

“Wait! I have a present for you!” says the professor.

Shamir and Catherine looked at each other.

“You’re starting to give them away already?” asks Randolph.

Parvati moves one of her luggages onto its side and starts rummaging. She tells Randolph to close the door.

Catherine starts to say that Randolph already closed the door, but apparently the Imperial knight understands Parvati means the bedroom door. Parvati has already closed the living room blinds, so the primary source of light now pools in from the bedroom window. With the closing of that door, the rectangle of light gets skinnier and skinnier, until it slims into a line under the door.

It is dark now. Catherine can feel Shamir come to high alert. They wait for their eyes to adjust as they listen to the professor harrumphing. She is, after all, now searching through her luggage in the dark. Shamir gives Catherine a look that says, I’m not sure she has all her marbles in there. If Shamir could see Catherine’s expression, she would see Catherine replying with: Just like Hanneman.

“Ah hah!” says Parvati. She is now approaching them with what looks like two — she screams.

“Put your weapons down!” snaps Shamir.

From the other side of the room, Randolph yells. “What’s happening?” He halts in his tracks when he sees the glint of Shamir’s dagger at Parvati’s throat. With her other arm and a knee along the professor’s back, Shamir has the professor doubled over in a Dagdan hold meant to break an arm.

“Put down…the weapons,” Shamir repeats again.

The professor drops what she is holding and squeaks, “Not weapons!”

Catherine picks them up — two white batons.

“So what is it?” Shamir asks, her breath on Parvati’s ear.

“They’re Aegir lights.” Parvati’s voice is strained. “You turn them on by tapping the base.”

Catherine turns the strange white batons back and forth, then taps one of the ends. A pure, straight beam of light shoots up into the ceiling.

“It’s consistent and controlled,” the professor says. “Not a flicker, you see? It makes no shadows dance.”

“Huh,” says Catherine. She zigzags the three-inch wide circle of light across the ceiling, then to the bird cage, then to the shelf. With each movement, things pop out of the darkness and into sharp relief: the yellow plumage one of the birds, a glass of honey on a shelf, glinting, the shock on Randolph’s face, dusty books on the overstuffed shelves.

Catherine has to admit, the professor is right. The shadows do not dance. This is way better than a torch or lamp.

“Now can you let me go?” asks Parvati.

Shamir releases her, and Parvati stumbles away, rubbing her neck. Randolph pulls Parvati behind him. Needless to say, it is Shamir he pays attention to now, rather than her storied counterpart.

“Is this the usual greeting for a professor?” asks Parvati.

Randolph shushes her. “Forgive her,” he says. “She will explain what she wants to demonstrate in advance from now on. That way, no soldiers encounter any surprises. Right, Parvati?”

Parvati huffs.

“How does it work?” Shamir asks, changing the topic. Catherine proffers her the second baton. It fits neatly into her hand.

“It’s captured lightning,” the professor explains. “You won’t ever leave without it on your expeditions. I am sure of it.”

Catherine has her misgivings about the woman, but she is too curious not to ask. “How did you capture it?” She taps the base of her own Aegir light. The room falls into a fresh, palpable darkness.

“It’s Ancient Technology,” says Parvati. “That’s what I am, the Professor of Ancient Technology.”

“You mean — like Agarthan Ruins?” Catherine asks.

“Precisely.”

“Agh!” says Catherine. Shamir has turned the light on directly into Catherine’s face. “What are you doing?”

Shamir tilts the light up to the ceiling. She says, “Sorry.”

“Great… Now I’m seeing green on the back of my lids.”

Shamir makes an approving sound. “We can use this for blinding then…”

Parvati’s bangles clink in the silence. “To the Archbishop, then?”

“Let’s go!” Catherine nods. “Professor of Ancient Technology, huh? I look forward to seeing more.”


So she has finally arrived, thinks the Viceroy to himself. It has taken longer than he had expected. Much longer.

Escorted by his trusted knights, she is captured by the stained glass mural on the Audience Chamber’s ceiling as she approaches. When she recognizes what it depicts, she looks back down, self-conscious. She meets Seteth’s eyes. The Imperial soldier bows beside her, and she follows his example. Her long silver braid slips over her shoulder. She catches it before it touches the floor.

“Dr. Sinha,” says Seteth. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

He can see that the weight of time bears down on her shoulders. This is especially true since the mural currently hanging above their heads is a massive depiction of the Imperial Calendar. By the Imperial Calendar, she has taken four Goddess-damned years to respond to his summons.

How bold of her.

Beside him, one of Seteth’s other knights inserts himself.

“Pleased to meet you! I am Alois!” The man breaks into a large smile.“Let's start by breaking the ice. It's kind of a slippery subject, but I know we can crack it!”

“Oh no,” the Imperial soldier says, visibly dismayed.

Parvati beams beside him. “Pleased to meet you too! I am Parvati. We Duscuri are often good at currying flavor, but I am only good at currying favor, so don’t you ask me to cook!”

The Imperial knight closes his eyes.

Alois explodes with laughter. He prods Seteth. “I like her! I like this one!” 

The Imperial knight introduces himself. Seteth blinks. How did Enbarr Imperial University acquire the escort of a Commander? Why are they protecting her so seriously? What do they know?

She turns to Seteth. “Thank you for your patience! I had to finish my doctorate and postdoc, but — now I’m here! What an extraordinary opportunity.”

Seteth nods solemnly, and looks at something behind her. Parvati follows his gaze. He knows what she is seeing: the Goddess reincarnate floats across the marble floors. With her headdress tassels bobbing, jewels faintly clinking, a dark blue cape floating about her shoulders and a white gown pooling at her feet like water in a waterfall, the Archbishop makes her entrance.

Catherine, Shamir and Alois sink on one knee to the floor. Randolph and Parvati stand transfixed. A common reaction — the reaction the Church of Seiros has consciously constructed to be the norm.

“Professor Parvati,” says Lady Rhea. “Welcome to Garreg Mach, and the Officer’s Academy.”

Parvati seems lost in a trance. “With a voice like that, there must have been many who were instantly assured of the Goddess’s existence.”

“And you?” asks Lady Rhea. “Are you assured of the existence of the Goddess?”

Parvati cocks her head. “Of course. I believe in many gods and goddesses.”

Seteth sees Catherine looking over to him. The room has gotten suddenly cold.

“As I had promised you may,” Seteth says to Parvati, looking at Rhea. “Faith in the Seiros Doctrine, though common, is not a mandate for anyone serving in the Officer’s Academy. Or the Knights of Seiros. We only look for the best.”

Lady Rhea looks at Parvati for a long moment. When the Archbishop nods finally, more than one person lets go of their breaths. “Do feel free to attend the Cathedral and find any comforts you need. Know that the Church will always have you, regardless of past or deed.”

Parvati bows. “That would be lovely! I’ve been there before.”

She doesn’t miss the way Seteth and Rhea exchange glances. When had Parvati previously been to Garreg Mach?

“I must go now,” says Rhea. “I leave Seteth to provide instruction. He will be your guide and steward in your time at the Officer’s Academy, just as he guides and commands the Knights of Seiros. Please listen carefully to what he has to say. Until tomorrow, farewell.”

Parvati and Randolph bow, waiting the full time it takes the Archbishop to exit the Audience Chamber. When she does, Seteth holds an arm out towards his private office. It is the room underneath the Star Terrace, locked by an enchanted door.

There is no overhearing what gets said beyond that door.

As Parvati moves in its direction, Commander Randolph follows. Seteth gives him a look, making it clear he hadn’t expected the commander to come in with her. The commander looks at Parvati.

“It’s all right, Randolph. It won’t happen again,” she says to him.

The commander takes in a deep breath, then says, “I will be right here.”

Ah, thinks Seteth, for the Commander’s look of apprehension makes it crystal clear. He wasn’t sent here by Enbarr Imperial. He has come here for Parvati himself. The smile the Commander won from the Duscuri professor validates Seteth’s impression.

And as the enchanted door closes behind him, Seteth thinks, Commander of the Fifth Division. What an important ally Parvati has made.


Parvati is standing where Catherine had been standing when Seteth assigned the mission. Seteth motions to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, sit.”

Parvati remains standing behind it. “Please, sir, I’ve been sitting so long on my journey. It feels good to be standing.”

“Very well,” says Seteth. He takes a seat at his desk.

It is after he runs through academy logistics that Parvati comes alive. “The Museum — ” she begins.

“Is not ready,” the Viceroy finishes.

“Oh!” says Parvati. She traces the Crest of Seiros carved into the top of the chair. She does not know what to say.

Seteth says, “In a bizarre move, the builders we contracted had canceled. It took a while to find other sufficient builders. I know we had promised a museum for your artifacts, and this will still be the case, Professor.”

Parvati blinks slowly. He can see she is thinking.

In reality, there were no such builders, because in reality, the Church building a museum for Agarthan artifacts is ridiculous. But this is what he had to tell her in order to lure her in, and through her — all the Agarthan artifacts Enbarr Imperial might possess. She is the conduit, the world-renowned Ancient Technology Professor, who has the signing power to request the license on behalf of Garreg Mach. Despite the Monastery being a great political power, E.I. University had spent extraordinary capital to discover the Agarthan ruins and excavate the artifacts it now covets close to its chest. Thus, it was Seteth’s — no, St. Cichol’s idea — to use E.I.’s own trusted, beloved professor, to acquire each piece of Agarthan technology so the Church of Seiros could disappear them away.

Which means the reverent Cichol is playing a game. They could have killed her, after all, at any time. But St. Cichol is not like St. Seiros. St. Cichol is thorough, and he is patient, more patient than his counterpart. Thus, he will wait until he has acquired everything…before Parvati too is taken out of the light.

Parvati speaks. “So, the artifacts I did bring…”

“The Church will take care of them immediately. While the museum is constructed, we will store them,” says Seteth. Then he thinks, Permanently.

Parvati nods. “Then I can help ensure they are being properly stored.”

Seteth shakes his head. He cannot have her getting in the way. “There is no need. You need not fear about that. We will be storing them with the same care the Church stores its own valuable treasures.”

Parvati’s eyes widen. “Wow! I would love to know what techniques you use to handle treasures! Perhaps the Church’s techniques are even better than Enbarr Imperial’s. How do you handle humidity?”

She is very attentive, thinks Seteth. He says, “That is, unfortunately, private information.”

The professor looks put off.

I have to give a little, thinks Seteth. He does not want her to get suspicious. He says, “Apologies. The location is private information, but I can certainly introduce you to an archiver. I am sure she can appease you and all of your questions.”

Parvati looks pleased. She bows and thanks him. "The Agarthan Museum…” she begins. Then there is a moment she cannot speak. She clears her throat. “This will be the culmination of my parents’ work. I only wish that my parents could see it.”

Seteth hesitates. “Your parents, they were the linguist and archaeologist, were they not?”

Parvati nods. “What you are doing for me…” She bows again. “Dear Viceroy, you are fulfilling a dream.”

Parvati leaves. Seteth stares at the Crest she had been tracing on the head of the chair, the Crest of Seiros, thinking, No, Parvati. I am not fulfilling a dream.

I am fulfilling a nightmare.

Notes:

Author's Notes:

Welcome, Fire Emblem Three Hopes fans! What began as a Duscur fix-it has turned into a multi-installment epic complete with murder mysteries, mythic prophecies, and magnanimous courtroom trials. Justice will be made.

Some special thanks:

  • To my Boo, for listening to me talk about this story non-stop since July 2020 and unblocking me when I’m stuck!
  • To kiri / @royoon_ on TikTok, for drawing Parvati fan art (featured later) and helping me with Character Design.
  • To MashPotato2424, my first Beta Reader! Her feedback was critical in setting themes and mood for this piece, and you can thank her for the absolutely burgeoning role Randolph is going to play. ;) 
  • And last but not least, to Moyou / @budgie_qm on Twitter, who saw me request a South Asian Dedue, and then she did this:

 

Dedue South Asian Inspired

 

This picture took my breath away and helped me set a foundation for Duscur full and rich. Thank you, Moyou, for helping me visualize it! Now it’s time for me to make it real. 

You can look forward to this Dedue at the Ball. ;)

Chapter 2: Gaspard

Summary:

As Professor Parvati makes new acquaintances, her lover Commander Randolph grows suspicious of her new friends. Plus, a chance encounter at the Cathedral.

Notes:

Author's Notes: July 18th, 2022

I am simply overwhelmed by the reception for this fic. I have officially been writing this fic for 2 years now, posting for one and a half. Nothing could have prepared me for the giant influx of engagement! Not for a fic so OC-centric!

Thank you to absolutely everyone for each and every Comment, Bookmark and Kudo! It's been a year and a half of thanking every reader by name for each and every one of them, but I recently pared down the first 23 chapters of Author's Notes to give newcomers a clean reading experience. To all new readers chancing upon this fic, I see your every Bookmark, Kudo, and Comment. Please see the Author's Notes in my upcoming latest updates to see yourself called out as well! You are seen and it is neat!

Some precious readers that absolutely cannot go without naming though: Ashilaa_A03, Satelesque, Dragoncat1991, DGRTDB and PadmaLily! Thank you for feeding me chapter-per-chapter comments throughout all these years. You are the source of my momentum! It was so fun finding ways to insert the first three into my fic in Chapter 12! 😆

Don't tell DGRTDB and PadmaLily but 😉 I'm working on inserting them next. In a chapter in the early 30s. 🤫 It's a secret!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“You must be the new professor,” said the new woman in the Audience Chamber. “So young…” She had been in the middle of conversing with Randolph, Catherine and Shamir, but she turned her full attention to Parvati when she came out of the office.

Parvati did a double-take. She had come out of Seteth’s office thinking she and Randolph could make a get-away…squirrel away into her new apartment, investigate what in the world he meant about those towels, and maybe cuuuuddleeeee and kiss-kiiiiiiiss…and maybe have some snuuuggleeeees…since Randolph was not meant be here long. It was how she usually processed what was happening in the world around her when she was with him, snuggled safe in his arms…all squishyyyy…and waaaaarm…Parvati being the squishy part, of course.

But the moment she stepped out of Seteth’s office, she knew it would not be so. That was because, right in the middle of the trio of knights, was none other than —

The woman approached her. “Professor Parvati, I am — ”

“The Divine Songstress!” Parvati squeaked. She began to hyperventilate.

Parvati’s home base of Enbarr Imperial was not far from the Mittelfrank Opera Company. In fact, Parvati’s her graduate year dorms had been even closer. How many times had she heard that towering voice swoop up like a twirling swallow, and plummet like a hawk, at the water fountain outside her old abode? It was customary for a senior member to bring the newest, freshest voices to practice out there, on summer days before it got hot. Even in the rain. Parvati heard it was to ease their nerves, to become accustomed to performing. What a way to live! When even practice…was performance!

“Miss — ” — Parvati couldn’t breathe — “ — Casagranda!” She sank into a gracious bow. “You of all people need no introduction.”

Manuela’s eyes sparkled. “I like her already.”

Parvati clasped her hands together, stars in her eyes. “Oh! Gods! You are everything I imagined…”

“Get used to it quickly, my dear,” Manuela said, linking an arm with her. “It sounds like these knights want to get in a little sparring. Why don’t I give you a tour of the campus? The training grounds are uncouth! And stinky.”

“I did not agree to this,” cut in Randolph.

“That’s because he is afraid.” Catherine crossed her arms.

Randolph gave Catherine a side-eye, but Parvati silenced his protests. “You think I don’t know how much you’d regret not sparring with Catherine after coming all the way here? Besides,” she gave Manuela’s linked arm a squeeze, “I am now in the presence of the Divine Songstress. I am busy, and you are dismissed.”

Randolph grinned. He saw the way Parvati’s eyes linger from his eyes to his lips. It made his heart speed. His heart was still racing as he and Catherine watched the professors walk away. Shamir walked after them.

“Wait, she’s not coming with us?” asked Catherine. “Let me guess: she doesn’t want to watch me wallop you.”

Randolph shook his head. “It does not please her. She is a pacifist.”

“A pacifist? Then what is she doing with you?”

He gave a mysterious smile. “She had to make an exception.”

Catherine raised a brow. “Wow, okay, hot shot. Let’s see what you’ve got in you!”

 


 

Whatever Randolph did have in him, Catherine walloped him nonetheless. She left Randolph hobbling gingerly to Parvati’s apartment. The stairs had not been a fun experience, nor the look on Parvati’s face when she saw him.

“I thought you two were spaaaaarriiiiing!” Parvati wailed when she saw him. She suddenly left him standing alone in her apartment and magically came back with Manuela, who turned out to not only be her neighbor, but also this year’s Head Physician. As Manuela examined him and began healing incantations, Parvati kept fretting and flittering around unopened boxes and suitcases.

Manuela perked a brow at him, unbeknownst to him, a certain amount of jealous. The look of hostility was not one he had anticipated. She said, “You sure you two are going to make it?”

Randolph blinked. He was getting that feeling of icy-hot where one of his ribs had broken, and the bleeding on his arm had stopped, and he had all of the expected nausea that came with white magic, but…were there going to be side effects? He’d never been healed by someone who looked like she hated him before.

“What about his cheek and his face?” asked Parvati, pointing over Manuela’s shoulder.

Manuela batted her hand away, growling, “Yes yes yes!”

Parvati glanced at Manuela, startled. She shut her trap.

Twenty minutes later, Manuela had gone back into her room.

Parvati locked the door, listened for Manuela’s footsteps to fade, waited to hear the physician’s door close…then went back to whining again. “I thought you two were spaaaarriiiing.

“We were,” Randolph said, bending forward to touch his toes and verify his ribs were okay. He still had a hundred percent of the bruises and winced. He was fine now, but he was going to be  sore and colorful tomorrow.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” insisted Parvati.

They left a trail of Randolph’s armor across the living room floor and down the hall, wherever he had let Parvati “help” him out of it. The trail led to the bathroom, where he leaned back against the corner of the sink as he let Parvati press a clean, wet undershirt against his rib cage. She surveyed the series of bruises there. She did this thing where she furrowed her brows and sucked in her lips and dabbed at the blood smears with extreme concentration, and by the Goddess did Randolph want to just gather her into his arms and kiss her stupid adorable face off.

But he didn’t, because then she would know that he was perfectly fine and then she’d get mad and she wouldn’t be making the stupid face.

What was there to say? He enjoyed the attention.

“Ease my pain, Parvati,” he said. “I will feel better if you kiss me here.” She did. “And here. And here. And here. And also here.”

She treated him to light little kisses wherever he pointed — his heart, his shoulder, the top of his hand, his eyebrow — but she frowned when he pointed to his lips.

“No, you have to wash your face,” she said. His cheek and lips were bloody.

Randolph smiled, kissed her nose — “Ewww!” — and turned to the sink and washed up. There was a new crescent mark on his right cheek in the mirror. He made eye contact with Parvati’s worried face in the reflection.

“Is that what you’re going to look like for the rest of the year?” he asked.

She said, “What?”

“Your students are going to be sent to battles monthly. At least.”

Again, she was making that stupid face.

“So what did Manuela say?” he asked.

“Oh, you know,” said Parvati. “Going over lesson plans. Hanneman is coming back tomorrow. Some students come early too. Orientation’s in four days. By the gods! Lots to do!”

But she was excited. He could see it.

Parvati shoved Randolph out of the way of the sink by nudging him aside playfully with her hips. She ran the shirt in the water, soaping out the blood and dirt. “We’re going to teach the Black Eagles, of course, naturally, if we have a choice. That’s where all the money’s at. And the more valuable connections. Did you know they have a sauna here?”

He nodded absently, his eyes landing on her right wrist. Shamir’s Dagdan hold had left its own bruises. All the warmth that had been blooming and expanding extravagantly in his heart suddenly shriveled into cold.

He almost didn’t have this with Parvati. This moment. That stupid face. Her gabbling away right now. Those little kisses. All that whining and mewling. The lines on her face that she was bound to have in only a couple of years, what with all of her worrying.

He loved it. He loved all of it. He loved her.

And he almost lost everything today.

He was standing there, not five feet away from her. Five feet! When Shamir caught Parvati, when she was holding — he could hardly allow himself to think of it again, a dagger! — at Parvati’s throat…he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything! All he could do in that moment, was wait…and beg.

What was the point of being an Imperial Commander if he couldn’t save someone five feet away from him? What was — all of his training, all of his skill, all of his strength, if it meant nothing in that moment? If it meant nothing in the only moment that mattered?

That feeling again. He swallowed. He never wanted that feeling. Catherine may have left him humbled, but Shamir reminded him what it meant to be helpless again.

“What?” said Parvati, throwing the shirt over the shower rod to dry. “Why are you so quiet?”

“What did Shamir say?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“Didn’t Shamir go with you?” asked Randolph, suddenly remembering.

Parvati frowned at him. “No.” She was clearly not a fan of the idea either.

That made Randolph feel better. Shamir was a Knight of Seiros. No doubt she had other obligations. She was busy.

But what if she was following her? wondered a part of him. Parvati had been utterly starstruck. With Manuela at her side, she could have been besieged by a horde of flying buffalo and she wouldn’t have noticed.

Why would Shamir want to follow Parvati? responded another voice inside his head. The voice of reason. 

The voice of reason wasn’t winning today. He followed her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where she flopped onto the bed and turned over and made space for him.

“I have a bad feeling,” he said.

Parvati looked unimpressed. “You always have bad feelings before you go.”

This was true. He was leaving her again, tomorrow. It turned out Randolph was also a worry-wart.

He said, “You have to be vigilant.”

“Randolph, this is a high school.”

“A school full of royals.”

Parvati rolled her eyes. “You are also noble.”

He said, “Barely. It barely even means anything.”

“And that is how I like it,” she said, stuffing a pillow under her head. “The best nobles are the ones who don’t make it anything.” She beckoned him to lie down beside her.

“I haven’t showered yet,” he said. He could see she was getting impatient, so he bathed quick and nestled into the blankets beside her. She looked up from her book.

“You’re reading that one again?” he said, picking the trashy romance novel out from her clutches.

“Shut up. It’s gets me through when I don’t have you,” she said.

“But you have me now.”

“Then it’s basic comfort. You stress-train; I stress-read. My comfort novel.” She cuddled into his arms, breathing in his scent and crooning, “Mmmm. So waaaaarm! You. Smell. So. Good!”

He sank a kiss into the flesh of her palm and held her, his satisfaction complete. These were the moments to live for: Parvati frowning at his hair dripping onto her pillow and making it wet, then all the giggles and the cuddles and the kisses. She smiled at him. Then her smile faded, and he could see that she was thinking of something else.

“What is it?” he said.

She looked at him. “There is something fishy,” she said, “and it’s not fish.”

Randolph waited for more. He was accustomed to waiting out dumb lines like these. (He also was accustomed to waiting for dumb lines like these…all those weeks, all those months spent away from her.) Parvati told him about the builders, builders who had taken on a contract from Garreg Mach, but then canceled without warning.

“Who has the gall to do that?” she asked. “To cancel on Garreg Mach!”

“They didn’t even start building the Museum yet?” Randolph asked, incredulous.

“No…”

Randolph frowned. “Well, tomorrow afternoon, we’ll be done moving in the artifacts.”

Parvati nodded. “I need to see how they are being stored.”

“It might be a while…” he said.

The two of them looked at each other. Over time, Parvati’s lips were twitching. She could not keep a straight face or handle the silence. She declared: “Okay! No. More. Talking!”

Randolph grinned. “Not. A. Word.”

And they proceeded to do things that cannot be documented for readers under eighteen years old.

 


 

The next morning, the Viceroy called over to Parvati.

Parvati was startled. She and Randolph had just entered the dining hall, and it just occurred to her that she might see her boss here every morning. And every lunch. And every dinner. Oh phooey. Her university in Adrestia allowed her to choose different cafeterias to keep her private life private. Now she led Randolph down the aisles between the long rows of wooden tables.

They stopped on the other side of the table from him. Seated at the bench beside him, a green-haired girl wiped crumbs from a half-eaten croissant off of her face, then yawned politely, covering her mouth with a hand.

Seteth bid the two good morning, and announced to Parvati that Hanneman had arrived.

“Hanneman?” Parvati’s eyes lit up. “Here? Where?”

The Viceroy notified her that he had just gone to the bathroom and would be back momentarily.

Parvati looked down at the unattended little plate on the table right in front of her. Black coffee and a cookie. “Is this Hanneman’s?”

The little girl nodded, eyeing Parvati and Randolph with interest.

A sly grin came over Parvati’s face. She leaned backwards to look past Randolph at the dining hall’s entrance. The bathrooms were in the Entrance Hall. Seeing the coast was clear — no Hanneman — Parvati picked up the cookie, took a bite, and put it back on the tray.

“What are you doing?” Randolph cried out.

Seteth and the girl stared at the moon-shaped cookie, both of them open-mouthed.

“Oh, this chocolate is good,” said Parvati, licking her finger. She gave the girl a conspiratorial wink and started pulling Randolph towards the breakfast bar at the front, saying, “Let’s go let’s go let’s go!”

But she was too late.

“Parvati! There you are!” came Hanneman’s voice.

He was coming from the breakfast bar. There must have been more restrooms back there somewhere! Parvati slid the plate with his bitten-into cookie out of view behind her and presented perfect composure as he approached.

“Listen, you must see to my updated thesis. What I sent you last month was rubbish. Absolute rubbish!” Then he paused, pushing up his monocle as he noted the man behind her. “This must be him.”

Parvati nodded fervently, pulling Randolph forward beside her.

Randolph bowed. “Randolph von Bergliez, Commander of the Fifth Division.” He held out his hand.

Hanneman shook it with a nod. “Hanneman von Essar, though I do not partake in that house anymore. Father of Crestology.”

Parvati jumped forward and snuggled under Hanneman’s arm and hugging him sideways. “Hanneman!” she squealed. She had quite forgotten her boss and grinned at Randolph.

“Hmm, hmm,” said Hanneman absently, patting her back as he stared at Randolph. He shook himself out of reverie. “Pardon. I just want to make sure that you’re — ”

“Good for Parvati?” asked Randolph. “I completely understand. I have a little sister.”

Hanneman nodded. “I have a little sister too. Had. Actually, not just that. Parvati’s mother would never forgive me if I let something happen to her.”

Parvati squished him, beaming.

“Then I can feel secure about leaving her in your hands,” Randolph said with a smile.

“Oh! Certainly! That you can do!”

In the next moment of silence, the two men came to an agreement. Then Hanneman looked at Parvati cradled under his arm. “Well! Go get some breakfast. I will be here.”

She said, “Okay!” As she and her lovey-love walked away, the three at the table overheard Parvati saying, “You looked so cool, Randolph!”

Randolph grumbled back, “You were supposed to be hugging me!”

Hanneman chuckled and sat down to his coffee. He looked at his cookie. “This was Parvati, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was! I was quite astonished!” said the girl, unable to contain herself anymore. “It seems you know her, Professor?”

“Yes, Flayn. She is the daughter of an old colleague,” said Hanneman, sipping his drink.

Seteth nudged his daughter to finish her food.

“I’ve known her since she was this big.” Hanneman held a hand out just over the edge of the table, then shook his head in disbelief. “I invited her parents to come to my office, the first time I met her. And in the middle of it all, she’d slipped away and found my lunch. She climbed up my chair and desk to eat my cookie.”

 

“Ah,” said Seteth, now understanding. He looked over to the breakfast bar. Parvati was heaping things onto a plate Randolph was holding. He looked uncomfortable.

“She called them ‘mookies’!” Hanneman reminisced. “That’s why I call her ‘Mookie’.” He looked at Seteth. “And now to think, now, she is my colleague!”

Flayn giggled. She reached over to Seteth’s plate and took a bite of his cookie.

She was about to put it back when Seteth said, “Flayn! That’s bad manners!”

“But a professor did it!”

“That does not make it less bad!”

Wow, what a cutie!” gushed Parvati, just returning with Randolph. She was looking at Seteth. “Is this your daughter?”

Seteth cleared his throat. “This is my sister,” he said, sticking to the story to protect their Nabatean heritage. He couldn’t have her — and certainly not Hanneman — find out he and Flayn were actually St. Cichol and St. Cethleann! It was bad enough that he and Flayn had to constantly evade that stupid Crest Analyzer.

Flayn stuck her hand out to the professor for a hand shake.

“Oh!” Parvati made a production of setting down the two coffees and exaggeratedly cleared her throat. “Professor Parvati, at your service, Miss…?”

“Flayn!” said Flayn. She shook hands with Parvati, then passed her hand over to Randolph and made him shake as well. She beamed at them, declaring, “You are my first modern hand shakes.”

Parvati bowed her head somberly. “’Twas an honor.”

Randolph asked, “Modern?”

Flayn deflected. “I’m going to call you Mookie!” she announced.

Parvati glanced at Hanneman, startled.

“Flayn!” said Seteth. “This is a professor! You must show her respect!”

Flayn scowled at her father. “Professor Mookie, then!”

That gave Parvati a laugh. “All right, Flayn, but it’s our little secret.” She leaned forward over the table. “You can’t tell this to anyone, especially not the students.”

Flayn nodded fervently. They had a secret!

Then Parvati turned to Hanneman. “You too, Professor!” The voice she’d used for Flayn had vaporized. “How am I going to be taken seriously if you tell this story in front of my boss?”

“Oh,” said Hanneman, glancing at Seteth.

The name is not the reason I wouldn’t take you seriously today, thought Seteth…though it was a pretty cute name…

“Ah! Randolph! Parvati!” Manuela was strolling their way.

“Who is that?” asked Hanneman, turning to Parvati.

Seteth prepared to introduce her. Then he heard what Manuela said next:

“You two were awfully rowdy last night. Did you have fun?”

Randolph spit coffee out of his mouth. Parvati and Hanneman looked decidedly at their breakfast plates, not meeting each other’s eyes. Flayn looked at their expressions.

“And now we go, Flayn,” said Seteth, standing up.

“But I’m not finished — ”

“No. We have to go. Now. I’ll hold your croissant.”

And with that, Seteth made the first of many Manuela-escapes. It was going to be a skill he would hone quickly, and sharpen like a blade.

 


 

Parvati didn’t really want to go to the Cathedral with Manuela, just like she didn’t really want to saw her pinky toe off with a butter knife. But while Randolph declared he needed to check on the artifacts and Hanneman said he was going back to his office to settle in, Parvati could not conjure a single reason why she couldn’t join Manuela on her trip to the Cathedral.

It might have had something to do with what Manuela had implied in front of Seteth. Her boss. Or maybe, Parvati was beyond mortified by the fact that Hanneman was there. She couldn’t decide. Which is why, for the rest of the day, Parvati was broken. She’d learned a valuable lesson this morning:

Manuela was a wild card. You never knew what Manuela might say.

Now they walked across the Great Bridge, the Divine Songstress dragging the ghost of Parvati’s dignity by the arm into the holy space.

Parvati forgot how grand this place was. The voice of the choir rang up into the lofty heights, then swirled back down into every inch of space here, carrying with it a hum of prayers so thick she could breathing them. She felt like any words she might want to say to Manuela would be buoyed up like a bird on a thermal lift, to the stained glass Goddess upon the ceiling. A benevolent Sothis marveled down, the light of the world passing down through her in yellows and blues and greens.

“I wonder if I can join the choir here,” said Manuela.

Parvati clasped her hands and bowed her head to the Goddess. “Why not? They would be honored if you could join. You could even lead it, perhaps.”

“If I did, would you join?”

That broke Parvati out of her prayer. She said, “You don’t want me singing.”

“Pish posh! I could teach you if you would like.”

Luckily for Parvati, something else drew Manuela’s attention before Parvati had to tell her she wouldn’t like.

“That’s the uniform!” said the opera diva.

She was pointing to a boy who had his head bowed in prayer. He was mouthing words into his clasped hands, half his ash-gray hair looking blue in the light of the stained glass Goddess.

“He must be a student!” said Manuela. “Let’s go talk to him!” She started heading his way.

Parvati froze. Was it too late to hide? If Manuela turned around, she would definitely call to her. But if Parvati ditched her now, she would never hear the end of that either. Parvati sighed and slinked after the click of Manuela’s heels.

Parvati picked out the words “Ashe?” and “Blue Lions!” by the time she joined them. The boy directed Parvati a curious look, and gave a smile that reached his green eyes and pushed out his freckled cheeks.

“You may have once taught Christophe,” he was saying to Manuela. “He is my older brother. He was at the Officer’s Academy ten years ago.”

Manuela blinked at him. “Do I look old enough to have been teaching here ten years ago?”

The poor boy started. He said, “N-No?”

“Well, good, because I’m not,” Manuela insisted. “This is Professor Parvati.”

Ashe bowed. “Hi, Professor Parvati! I’m Ashe. Ubert. From House Gaspard.”

Gaspard! thought Parvati. It took her to a time in the past.

The card in her hand: Gaspard, Christophe. The smell of tobacco. A blackboard with a hundred cards on it. Names of people, places. Yellow yarn connecting them. Terms like: Duscur, Tragedy; Lambert, Assassination. It was all a math proof, a puzzle. It was something she would solve. But the tobacco smoke was piling thick. It was making her cough. She turned to snap at that grad student. “Open the window, Christophe!”

Christophe. That was the name of that math graduate student. Not her assistant. Her advisor’s assistant. That was why she remembered the card that said Gaspard, Christophe on it. They had the same name.

Not just that. There was another reason. There was something different about this card. This card had something on it that none of the other cards had: Date of Execution.

Date of Execution. Christophe Gaspard was the only Faerghusi personage to have been executed…for his involvement in the Tragedy.

The Tragedy of Duscur. The thing that killed her parents.

Someone else called out to Ashe now. A low voice, a gruff one. Parvati snapped back into the real world. She felt the hair on her arms rise up. She was coming to realize…that she was about to meet with someone else who would need no introduction. His name had been on her cards before.

She turned to face him.

Gaspard, Lonato.

Notes:

Special thanks to kiri / @royoon_ for this incredible Parvati character design! 

 

Based off the art style of Genshin Impact! She's got that red-black Adrestian pride! Thanks so much Kiri!

Chapter 3: The Book of Cards

Summary:

As Manuela witnesses first-hand an example of Faergus’s anti-Duscur sentiment, Parvati is forced to consider that the Tragedy of Duscur — and the role of Christophe Lonato — was not as publicized. Meanwhile, Randolph asks Parvati what she plans to do about the incoming Prince of Faerghus.

Notes:

This work has a fantasy novel-style appendix: Companion Document for Fandom-Blind Readers - useful for anyone. Your one stop to seeing all of the official art and fan art!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Ashe." Lord Lonato did not wait for Ashe to finish turning before he sent a backhand across the boy’s face.

Manuela and Parvati cried out.

He said to the boy, “What did I tell you?”

Ashe had his two hands stacked one over the other on his left cheek. His swimming eyes did not stray from Lonato’s.

“I said, what did I tell you?”

“You said don’t talk to them.”

“And what did you do?”

Manuela stepped forward. “Excuse me. I happen to be a Professor at the Officer’s Academy. He is going to be a student, isn’t he? Then I would imagine he should be talking to professors.”

Lord Lonato turned to her. “A professor? I apologize. It is regrettable that you had to see that.”

Manuela falters. “I don’t understand.”

Parvati did, however. And it finally struck Manuela what Lonato had meant when the man’s eyes strayed to Parvati next.

Don’t talk to them hadn’t meant her and Manuela. Don’t talk to them meant don’t talk to her — to Parvati. To the woman of Duscur.

“He didn’t start the conversation,” said Parvati, deadpan. “We started it.”

“Do not defend him, little lady,” said Lonato gently, “for I fear you will be the one who gets the boy killed.”

Parvati’s jaw dropped. “Wh - What?” That made no sense. Her? Parvati? Getting his child killed? What the hell did he think she would be doing?

The soothing voice of the Archbishop interrupted her thoughts. “Lord Lonato.” The Archbishop had come to stand beside Parvati. On her other side was a red-haired knight who stood mum.

Parvati and Manuela bowed. In the distance, the voice of the choir swooned and lulled. Lonato’s eyes lingered on the knight beside her before resting on the Archbishop. “Archbishop,” he said.

“You had arrived,” she said, “and yet you did not grant me the comforts of your company?”

Lonato regarded her, seemingly calculating what to say as his hand reached behind him and pulled Ashe closer.

It was a motion the Archbishop did not miss. “Lord Lonato…your apprehension stings.” She looked at Ashe and said, “He will not be waylaid. I will care for and guide him personally. You have nothing to fear, milord.”

Lonato said, “I have everything to fear.” He looked at Parvati, as did Ashe. “This woman, what is she doing here?”

Rhea looked at her. “She is a Professor at the Academy. Parvati, greet him.”

Parvati felt like she was a child, being told by a mother to say hi. But because she wanted to do things the easy way so she could get away as swiftly as possible, she obediently bowed her head.

Lonato looked back at the Archbishop. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Lord Lonato?”

Lonato said, “I lost one son because for his Duscuri consort. Now you deem this one okay?”

Parvati blinked. Christophe had been in love with someone from Duscur?

Lady Rhea said, “The Church is very purposeful in the people we choose to employ, Lonato.”

A vein throbbed in Lonato’s temple. “You are, as ever, the image of grace, Archbishop,” he said, “and an astonishing calm. Is this what you looked like, the night you ordered for Christophe’s execution?”

The voice of the choir came to a sudden stop. Manuela gasped. Parvati felt like she had been punched in the chest. All of her breath was thrown out of her.

Archbishop Rhea gave him a dark look. “Your son was executed for the crimes that he committed, not for whom he associated with.”

Oh great. At least the Archbishop’s not racist, right? thought Parvati. Her mind was reeling. The Archbishop had ordered the execution of Christophe? She knew the Church had executed him, but it never occurred to her — that she had met the person who had given that command, and that in fact, Parvati was standing right next to her. She was close enough for the Archbishop’s cape to be touching her left arm right now. Parvati’s skin erupted in goosebumps.

“For what it is worth,” said Rhea, “allow me express my condolences. I would have had it any other way.”

“Then why couldn’t you think of one?” Lonato said through a thick voice and gritted teeth. His eyes sparkled through a film of water. Behind him, two rivers ran silently down Ashe’s face.

“Because he did not give one to me,” said Lady Rhea. With this, she bowed and said, “Gilbert, let us go.” She led the knight away with her.

Parvati didn’t know why she kept standing there, like her legs were carved out from the floor. Lord Lonato set his jaw and looked back at her. He said, “I am sorry to have to ask you this. But you’ve already taken my firstborn son. Don’t take this one.”

Parvati scoffed. She looked at Ashe, who matched her glance before walking away, led away by Lonato by the shoulder.

Manuela looked at her. “What was that?” she said.

Parvati shook her head. “That’s not going to be the last time.”

“I don’t envy you,” said Manuela. “I’d heard of how the people of Duscur are treated by the Fearghusi, but…I had no idea… I thought originally what he meant by them was proletarians.”

Parvati chuckled bitterly. “Oh. Yes. That.” She became lost in thought. I came here to teach math, but… She recalled what Randolph had said on the night before: a school full of royals. He was right. Out of twenty-four honors students, eighteen were nobility. And counting Ashe, eight of the students were from Faerghus.

She did not want to meet the other parents from Faerghus.

Or the students.

Manuela kept looking at her, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“I have no other choice than to be.”

Manuela frowned. “That’s not true. You shouldn’t have to stand for such abuse.” She surveyed the people swirling around them, saying, “But I understand… That was a little bit what the opera was like. For as long as you’re the diva, you are a goddess. You are a star. But when you stop… We are only valuable as accessories to the nobles. When you are not an accessory, they remind you…” She frowned. “Though I can’t help it. The gall of that woman, expressing condolences…"

Parvati checked if Rhea was around, then nodded. “I have a bad feeling,” she heard herself saying. The same words as Randolph.

“I do too,” Manuela nodded. She took Parvati by the hand and started leading her away. “How about let’s not talk to anymore students?”


Bad memories. She was being pulled into bad memories. She told herself she wouldn’t let this happen.

Parvati fingered the spines of the books she had shelved in her office, each of them ending with a white lotus symbol under her parents’ names. She had a full collection of everything they had published, on that ancient civilization, the old linguistics, on the archaeological structures and social hierarchies of people that no longer existed.

It made her sick. Her parents had spent their whole lives aggrandizing paraphernalia from the past? Of people who were dead now? Did they have any idea, that their own people would be next? Is this what they should have been doing, what she should be doing now — trying to keep Duscur from becoming something she could fit on two shelves?

She bit into the side of her hand to block the sound of weeping. Did her parents spend all their lives memorializing someone else when they should have been memorializing themselves?

Her door was closed and her window was open, so Parvati listened to the sounds outside. There was a baker hollering her wares nearby, a singing, jingling advert as the wheels of a cart squeaked past. It wasn’t so cold that the dogs weren’t barking. A little girl was screaming, “Give it back! Give it back! This isn’t fair!”

Don’t do it, a voice said inside her head. Parvati, don’t do it.

But her hands went to work anyway. They slid down the shelves, the many spines and found the book, the one with the lotus symbol pushed in. She pulled it out — Agarthan Linguistics — and smelled the pages. Still had her mother’s scent, for Parvati had spilled her perfume all over these pages. She had managed to free the first couple of pages…but a block of the middle pages had stuck together. This book was unreadable. Parvati opened to that middle block.

Cut into stack of those middle pages was a rectangular shaft, and snuck into there, was a deck of note cards, Adrestian standard.

This was the culmination of her Tragedy of Duscur investigation. All of those cards, her notes, were here — everything that she could travel with. She hadn’t dared to leave it at Enbarr Imperial, in that unoccupied apartment. Who knew when a burglar would come in.

Though, now she was feeling foolish — no thief would think to steal, of all things, books!   

Parvati looked up at the open windows. She closed them. She checked the lock on her door. From the office next to her came the muffled sound of Manuela singing. It had been two hours since she’d met the Gaspards, and it was now a comfort to hear the sounds of Manuela in her office: the scrape of a chair, the grate of a table, anything. And every now and then, there was the sound of Alois. It didn’t matter where he was. If he was in the building, they could all hear him laughing.

Parvati took a deep breath, and turned the book over, dumping the cards out onto her hands. They were all written in Randolph’s block text, beautiful block text she could not hope to emulate. They were all out of order — Dominic, Duscur, Glenn — she looked at the door again, flipping through her cards — Fhirdiad, Galatea, KleimanCoroner, Gaspard — here! Two cards of Gaspard.

Don’t take this one, Lonato’s voice whispered in her ear.

She had been happy on that day, the day she found out about the execution of Christophe…because she was able to add Date of Execution to this card. This was her writing. Everything else was in Randolph’s neat block, and here was Parvati’s, half of it cursive, half italics, a scrawl. It was a surprise to add those words. She just plain hadn’t imagined…that there would be anybody…not of Duscur…

But now she remembered, a twinge. When she’d heard of Christophe… She flipped through the cards again. Of all the names within the cards she had… Christophe did not make sense. Nor did Gaspard. The Gaspard territory did not partake in the pogroms, despite being closer than Charon and Fraldarius.

She took out a pen from the desk. Was in love with a Duscuri woman, she added. That’s why they executed him. Did that make sense? She examined the card. All she got from that conversation was a measly few lines. Lonato Gaspard was biased, and neither of them stated what exactly had been the crimes that Christophe had committed. Parvati cursed. Lady Rhea had said exactly that: “executed for the crimes he had committed” — how much more vague could one get than that?

There was a knock on her door. She dropped the card. When she picked up the card, she dropped her pen instead. She said, “Coming!”

Parvati collected the cards and rearranged them into the slot she had made, closed her mother’s book, and slid it back onto her desk, unable to stop thinking about Lonato. Already, he had lost one child. How was he sending another child to the Officer’s Academy? When Lady Rhea was the one responsible for the death of his first one? What was he doing?

There was another knock on her door. “Coming!” she called again. She opened up her door.

Randolph.


"Are you sure she’s going to remember you?”

Laslow had asked this a half an hour ago. Like Ladislava, her twin had the same harvest-gold hair and rose-mahogany eyes as his twin sister. Unlike Ladislava, Laslow worked under Randolph instead of over him, because he he often drank himself under the table and only made it to meetings when they were over. Laslow did not want to proceed further on the military ladder and he’d said as much: “All of the benefits, none of the responsibility.”

He was handing Randolph the completed checklist of artifacts that had been transferred into the Church’s care when he had asked Randolph the question. Randolph asked Laslow what he meant by what he said.

“I mean she’s surrounded by the best of the best,” Laslow said. “What were you telling me? Catherine Thunderbrand. Distant Archer. Divine Songstress. Father of Crestology. The Archbishop. And soon…the future Duke, the future Emperor, the future Prince.”

It was a half minute exchange, but it stayed with Randolph for the next half hour.

Which was why, when Randolph saw Parvati’s eyeliner smudged across her cheek, he asked, “What’s wrong?” And when she insisted, “Nothing,” he thought, She is hiding something.

That…hasn’t happened in a while, he thought as he followed her into her office.

Then he thought, No, this always happens. When do I ever know what is happening with her? Her letters hardly say anything.

Don’t be stupid, said his voice of reason, trying to abate the lick of anger flickering like new flame.

But Parvati saw his dark look. She paused re-inserting the book she in her hands into the bookshelf when she said, “What’s the matter?”

He said, “Nothing.”

The two of them stared at each other.

“They’re ready to go,” Randolph said.

“I — what?”

“The soldiers. The transfer is done. The soldiers are ready to go.”

Now he had her attention. She blinked. “I thought you said after dinner.”

“The Monastery was very professional. They were swift and completed early.”

Parvati set the book down at the edge of the table and made her way to him. “Right now? You’re going right now?” She looked from his shoulder to his hands to his ribs, to all the bruises she had kissed just yesterday. She said, “But why? Why do you have to go? Why do you have to go now? Why do you have to go early?” She searched for something upon his face. “Tell the others to go. You’ll catch up.”

Then maybe you should tell me what’s wrong, thought Randolph, latching onto the anger and holding on.

But then she put a hand on his face, and her voice broke as she said, “Sta-ay…”

Randolph could feel his heart melt. He filled with relief. He let himself sink into her kiss and let her pull him into her embrace. They were light kisses, but long ones, and her hands were just finding his when they heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Parvati pulled away. Randolph was not ready to let go, but he relented begrudgingly when he saw it was Catherine and someone else.

The Knight of Seiros was standing at the doorway, one of her hands clapped over the eyes of some kid who was struggling. “Catherine! Let go!”

“Next time you want to do this, maybe start with locking the door,” Catherine said with a grin. “You were giving Cyril a show! You didn’t even charge him for it.” 

The kid finally pulled the knight’s hand off of his face and glared at the Adrestians. “No, don’t do that,” he said, pointing a broomstick in their direction. “I don’t want to even imagine what I’d have to clean in this office if you were to lock it. Get a room!”

Catherine burst into laughter. Randolph turned bright red. This kid had moxie. He shouldn’t even know about such things!

Parvati started blathering. “We should go now. Can we go now, Randolph? We should go.”


“It’s open,” said Parvati, analyzing the finishing touches of a brand new face of makeup in the bathroom mirror.

Randolph strode in, fully dressed. “Who is this lady, all made up?” He leaned in against her ear. “Got someone to impress?”

“You need to go,” she reminded him, pushing his face away with her hand. He was still smelling like the sweat she helped him work up…something she was sure he would hear about from Laslow and Bacardi.

Randolph chuckled. “All right, all right, I’m going. But first…” He followed her to the living room and put a hand on her wrist when she picked up her cloak. “You have to tell me what was wrong.”

Parvati paused. “That’s a long story, Randolph.”

“Then I better find out before I go.”

“Your soldiers are waiting.”

“They do not wait for me. I ordered them to depart already.”

Parvati bit her lip.

“Don’t bite your lip like that, Parvati…or I’ll have take you back into the bedroom.”

Parvati rolled her eyes. He was insatiable. She said, “Sit down, Randolph.” She started telling him what happened as she made chai in the kitchen. She watched the milk simmer with crushed cinnamon and cardamom.

“The Lord of Gaspard said what?” said Randolph.

She said, “How could it be, that they are talking about me…but I had no voice?”

Randolph sat quietly.

“It is not that I couldn’t think of what to say,” said Parvati. “I had so much I wanted to say… But it wouldn’t matter. It was already apparent. Nothing I could say would change his mind.”

“Better that you didn’t say anything,” said Randolph. Parvati looked at him. He said, “I told you to be careful. You can’t say everything you think here. It’s not safe.”

He accepted the chai and stopped to breathe in its scent before he started drinking. Parvati smiled. She had made it the way he liked it.

He saw her smiling and said, “What?”

“What am I going to do without you, Randolph?”

He smiled. Then he returned to that distant look. “What’s more, the future Duke of the Alliance, the Princess of the Empire, and the Heir to the Holy Kingdom… All will be here.” He looked at her. “How are you going to handle it?”

“Handle what?”

“The Prince of Faerghus.”

Parvati was intimidated. The Randolph she was speaking with now was the Commander of the Fifth Division. Parvati thought for a moment. The Prince of Faerghus. Blood of Blaiddyd. It was this name, that — Blaiddyd — name the Knights of Faerghus were said to be screaming as they butchered — and slaughtered —

Parvati shook herself out of these thoughts. Randolph wasn’t asking about her; he was asking about the Prince. The Prince thinks my people killed his parents, thought Parvati. She thought of Lady Rhea today and said to Randolph, “The Church will keep me safe.”

She didn’t believe it for an instant.

Neither did Randolph. “It sounds like Ashe was a gentle being. Obedient. I can’t imagine that of the Prince, do you?”

Parvati shook her head.

“Stay away from him then.”

Parvati looked at Randolph.

“Be careful with your students, and be wary of the Prince.”

Parvati nodded.

“It doesn’t matter what you have to do.” Randolph slid the cup of chai aside to take a hold of her hand. “And if anything happens…” He squeezed Parvati’s hand.

She squeezed his hand back and said, “I know.”


“It won’t take me long to reach the others,” said Randolph. “I’ll take the express way.”

“Express way?” asked Parvati. She had followed a Randolph and his refreshed horse from the stables to the entrance of the Monastery, where the stairs led either down to the marketplace or up into the Entrance Hall. One of the two guards glanced their way, yawning.

“There’s a side road, for single riders like messengers,” said Randolph, pointing the way. “They can’t be slowed down coming up the mountain on switchbacks, if the Monastery needs to be notified of something urgent.” Randolph looked down at her. “You aren’t even listening, are you?”

Parvati flushed. She said, “You will look so good on a black horse in that red armor!”

“I’d say that’s a fair assessment!” the guard who had been yawning chimed in.

Parvati and Randolph looked at the guard, and then glanced at each other.

“Thank you,” Randolph said.

“Wait, one more thing,” said Parvati. “What were you upset about?”

Horns sounded two notes in the distance. The voice of the marketplace shifted below. The market was stirring. Vendors were putting their wares away. Shoppers were hurrying their final purchase. Tables were being moved. Tents were being taken down.

The place was emptying. They were making space.

Randolph frowned. He mounted his black mare to see what was coming up the mountain. His eyes widened. The gatekeeper who had just talked with Randolph and Parvati stepped into the Monastery and called up the stairwell.

“That’s Blaiddyd! The House of Blaiddyd! Behold the Prince of Faerghus!”

Parvati’s heart jumped into her throat. She looked at Randolph.

He said, “You need to go. Now!”

“Randolph…” She took one backwards step.

Four floors above where they were standing, the bells of Garreg Mach exploded.

Randolph shouted to her, “You have to go!”

The bells of Garreg Mach were ringing, and they would not stop until the Prince arrived at Garreg Mach’s doorstep — right where Parvati was standing. She could see the banners on the pikes now, cresting into view over the walls of the marketplace.

“Just go, Parvati,” Randolph said again. He guided his mare close to her, leaned over the side and took Parvati’s face into his hands. He pulled her into his hungry kiss. He was breathing hard when they parted.

Randolph backpedaled on his horse as he said, “The Goddess knows I love you. Now go!”

That woke her up. Finally. The Faerghus banners were approached the main entrance, ducking out of sight as the long poles passed through the gates and under shorter doorways.

Parvati backed away into the Monastery. When she turned around, she found both sides of the Entrance Hall lined with the Knights of Seiros and the staff of the Monastery. They had all come to stand here and welcome the Prince. For her to run down the Entrance Hall now would mean running past everyone. She looked around. She was in the stairwell, before the Entrance Hall — the ones that led up to the bells.

She went up. Her boots clacked up four flights, every toll of the bells getting louder and louder with every step. She burst out onto the overlooking balcony. That’s right — she had been here just this morning. With Manuela. “The best view from the Monastery!” That was what she had said.

And now Parvati could see him — Randolph — the unmistakable red on the black mare. He was raced down the expressway at a gallop, speeding to catch the rest of his command. When he left her sight around a hairpin corner, Parvati did not expect the way her heart fell. She took a deep breath and backed up slightly. Heartache had made her bold enough to lean over the edge. Now, standing are her full height, she looked down into the marketplace, at the retinue of Faerghus.

Eight dozen soldiers had already marched in through the outer gates. The bells were stopping now, so the horns of Faerghus seized what was left of the air. The Blue Lion on each banner swayed hungrily over their heads, and over the tops of the tents of the blacksmiths and armorers. And there, in the center of the whole retinue, looking up at the Monastery — no, looking up at her — was the Royal Prince of Faerghus.


 

Behold the Prince of Faerghus

 

Notes:

Aaaaaand he has arriiiived! You can thank the illustrious Moyou / @budgie_qm for this amazing Dimitri she made for this piece! ;)

Chapter 4: An Inevitable Encounter

Summary:

Despite making every attempt to avoid the Prince of Faerghus, Professor Parvati somehow finds herself trapped into dining with him and his Duscuri vassal!

Notes:

Obvious Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem / FE3H, obviously. I’m just a fan writing fan fiction for these wonderful franchises. Thank you, Intsys.

Chapter Text

“So is this it?” asked Parvati. She blew on her coffee as she consulted Hanneman and Manuela. “This is the makeup of my three classes?”

They were in the Mess Hall since morning, and had taken charge of an entire table to lay out the foundations of their classwork. Hanneman was at one end of the table, flipping through her syllabi and lesson plans, while she and Manuela arranged and rearranged all the students in her math classes based on their performance in the pretest. There were now twenty-four students placed in Basic, Standard, and Advanced classes.

Manuela looked through the notes Parvati had on the cards for Claude and Hilda, then placed the first in Standard and the second in Advanced.

“Lysithea, Hilda, Lindhart, Annette, Edelgard, Dimitri, Ferdinand, Hubert, and Sylvain…” Manuela said under her breath. “Do you want such a big Advanced class? You could move someone down one level. Who’s got the lowest scores…Hubert and Ferdinand…” 

“Are these your Ancient Technology lesson plans?” asked Hanneman. “You have twenty four in each of the others, so why are there only four of them here?”

Parvati picked up the cards for Hubert and Ferdinand card. “What if we moved Ferdinand? …Then he would do comfortably…could move both…”

“Hello,” said someone behind her.

“Hello,” intoned Parvati automatically, absorbed.

“Parvati, why are there only four lesson plans?” Hanneman was still asking while she shushed him.

It was just as she had decided where to place Hubert and Ferdinand that she became aware that activity had stopped around her. Manuela was looking at something behind her, and even Hanneman, who had previously been flipping through papers, was standing stock still.

Parvati looked over her shoulder. Standing just past her right shoulder was the tallest Duscuri she had ever seen. She barely came halfway up his forearms. He was clearly North Duscuri. Wide in the shoulders, wide in the chest, he wore an Officer’s Academy uniform that was clearly tailored for him. His glinting teal eyes met hers directly with a closely guarded expression, until Parvati squealed in delight. “DEDUE!!!”

Take note: no one had ever squealed his name before.

The Duscuri’s eyes widened. From behind her, Manuela said, “Do you know him?”

“No!” said Parvati, grinning like an idiot and shaking his hand.

Take note: no one had ever shook his hand either — certainly never so vigorously.

When Parvati realized everyone was looking at her, she explained, “Ah! I am just — so excited! Dedue…you are the first student of Duscur at the Officer’s Academy. You..have made…history. And I, Professor Parvati, am the first faculty member from Duscur. I have made history. And — the fact that you and I are together, and are here at the same time — is — ” Again, that high-pitched squee! “Ohhh, I’m so proud of you! When did you get in? Did you eat? I didn’t see you before.”

She let go of his hand. Dedue blinked at her, clearly overwhelmed, because his answers were “yes” and “yes.”

“Your hair is just like my father’s! Squee! It stands straight up like his! What’s with the South Duscur earring?”

“My family lived in South Duscur…”

“Oh! Of course! You’ve got a North Duscur build, so…” She paused and put her hands on her hips and considered him. “Huh. You look good, Dedue. Dashing! I didn’t know the Officer’s Academy uniform would look so good on us.”

Dedue adopted a rabbit-in-the-cage look and looked towards someone behind Parvati.

“Welcome to the Officer’s Academy, Dedue! I’ll take care of you!” declared Parvati.

Someone started laughing behind her. Parvati looked at who it was and the smile dropped off her face. She realized Hanneman and Manuela hadn’t gone quiet because of Dedue — they had been looking at the person standing next to him.

Straw-blonde hair, sparkling cerulean eyes, his shoulders shook as he continued laughing. Tall in his own right, just a few inches shy of Dedue, he had a blue cape slung over his left shoulder and a leaner build. From his right shoulder, a blue belt slung down to his opposite hip, fastening a sword to his hip.

It wasn’t Dedue who had said hello, Parvati realized. It had been Prince!

The Prince smiled widely at Dedue as he said, “That…was the happiest reception I have ever seen Dedue get in my life! That was wonderful!” Those cerulean eyes now landed on Parvati. He bowed to her, ignoring the shock plain upon her face as he introduced himself. “My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. I wonder, if you’ll be taking care of me too?”

Parvati made noises. Manuela cut in in front of her, pushing Parvati behind her as she said, “I’m Manuela. I’m a professor, a physician, a songstress, and available. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Manuela, that is not what you are supposed to say to the students!” Hanneman butt in. He too pushed himself in front of Parvati as he introduced himself.

Saved! she thought to herself, her heart blooming with gratefulness to Manuela for jumping in, and to Hanneman for tagging along. Stumbling back into Dedue, however, Parvati came face-to-face with the pin on his chest. She frowned at it. “You’re…from Faerghus?”

There was another peal of laughter from the Prince. He glanced over Manuela’s shoulder, at Parvati, as he said, “I am pleased to meet you. A songstress, did you say?”

Wait, thought Parvati. If Dedue was wearing a Faerghus pin…she looked at the Prince. That meant Dedue and Dimitri were together.

What was a Duscuri doing with the Faerghusi Prince?

Whatever Manuela was saying back to the Prince, Parvati did not hear over a sudden, batting, clapping sound. The side doors to the dining hall, the ones overlooking the pond, were open and bouncing lightly in the wind against the walls. At the foot of the doorway, some papers were skiff-skiffing across the floor. A few white sheets cartwheeled in and out of view outside the double-doorway.

Parvati looked at the table. Her stack of lesson plans was definitively smaller. “Oh my gods!” she hissed. She sprang forward to shut the doors and reassessed the table.

This was bad. This was very bad. She taught three math classes, three times a week, and one technology class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The only way this was possible was if she had all four classes prepped well in advance. And now she just had a few sheets of paper, spilling over the edge of the table and, after falling onto the bench, split around it, and reunited into a pile on the floor.

The others were looking at her now.

Hanneman stuttered, “Parvati! Th-This is my fault! I forgot to put back the weight on the plans!”

Parvati stood open-mouthed, then dropped to her knees collecting the pages under the table. “I need to present the syllabi to Seteth!” She craned her head to see the clock behind the Prince’s head. “In fifteen minutes!” She flipped through the pages in her hands. “Is it still over here?”

She was grateful to huddle beside the table. It blocked everybody out of her view, and gave her a moment to swipe a wrist over her eye while she was out of their view. It’s not here not here not here not here —

She heard Hanneman say, “Ah ha! Thank goodness! Parvati — the syllabus — I have in my hands!”

Parvati jumped out from behind the table. “What?”

Hanneman shoved his papers into her hands, the ones he had been holding all this time. Three syllabi for her three math classes. But Ancient Technology wasn’t here.

Nonetheless, her shoulders came down in relief. “Thank the Goddess,” she said, grateful. She threw her arms around Hanneman, squeezed, and released him.

“But what about the lesson plans?” asked Manuela. Behind her, Prince Dimitri looked at Dedue.

Parvati swallowed. “One thing at a time!” she said, trying to keep control of herself. She had thirteen minutes remaining.

Hanneman made his way to the door. “Parvati! You gather what you have at the table! I’m going outside to collect what I can!”

Prince Dimitri said, “We’ll help!” Dedue nodded.

Parvati made a sound of disbelief. How could she be so stupid? How many minutes had the door been open? How didn’t she hear it before? Now the papers had blown in every direction — some dancing to the courtyards, diving to the fishing pond, cart-wheeling to the student dorms. She wouldn’t be surprised if at least a few of her lesson plans didn’t go winding and down the mountain. Algebra at the alcove, trigonometry under a tree, math analysis at the mountain pass — like titles for children’s stories.

Prince Dimitri and Dedue followed out after Hanneman. Manuela made it a point to re-shut the door and watched Parvati gather the nine of the twenty-four students cards still on the table.

What was she going to tell Seteth? She couldn’t even tell him who was in what class for her mathematics class rosters. She looked back at the clock again. Five minutes!

“Don’t worry,” said Manuela. She came and rubbed Parvati’s arms. “We’ll get back to you with as many papers as we can when you come out, okay?”

Parvati sniffled and nodded.

“Now you can’t go upstairs looking like this. Go to the bathroom, wash your face, and then give Seteth a performance, you hear?”

Parvati smiled. “Manuela…you’re the best!”

Manuela smirked. “And don’t I know it!”


Dedue Molinaro, son of a blacksmith and ardent vassal to the Prince, followed in his liege’s footsteps as they chased after lesson plans in the courtyards. There were four tables for student lounging under a dome gazebo. It was empty now, so Dimitri took a spot in the shade. He examined the hand with the papers they had managed to retrieve, gauging the sunburn.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“About what?” Dedue asked. He himself was standing in sunlight. With his dark skin, he naturally didn’t sunburn, and this kind of sunlight was as close to the warmth of Duscur as he had experienced in five years.

“The professor, of course!” said the Prince.

“Which one?”

Dimitri waved the papers at him with an irritated glance. “You know which one.”

From the look on Dimitri’s face, Dedue knew the Prince was expecting much. “She is…vibrant.”

Dimitri smiled. “She has taken a liking to you.”

“For the moment.”

This response did not please the Prince.

Dedue said, “What?”

“Dedue. She has shown you more warmth and kindness in one minute than most anyone in Faerghus in five years. That must have meant something.”

“For one minute, yes. But you should have seen her face in the next, when she saw the pin of Faerghus on my chest.”

Dedue could see he had made the Prince angry. He did not mind. He was one of the few who could get away with it. 

Dimitri said, “She has reason to — ”

“Yes. She has. And that makes her a threat to your life.”

“She is your ally, Dedue — ”

“Not yet. Please. Do not coax yourself into this unfounded belief, Your Highness.”

The papers Dimitri held crinkled. Oops. They were crushed.

Dedue held a hand out to take them, saying, “Your ally is my ally. Until she is your ally, she is my enemy.”

Dimitri glared quietly for a long time. Then he said, “Have it your way.” He slapped the papers into Dedue’s hand.

Forty minutes later, Dimitri asked, “What are you looking at?”

They were in the greenhouse now, where crickets were chirping and a low-flying bird almost flew right into the Duscuri. Dedue ducked. That’s when he saw it in between the lilies and carnations: a familiar note card. He plucked it out and they looked at it together. The front said:

Ferdinand von Aegir, 78.
Age: 17
Crest: Cichol
Nationality: Adrestia

On the back it listed Likes, Dislikes and Interests.

Dimitri gave a bark of a laugh. “Likes: being noble? Dislikes: nobles who are not noble? Is this a joke?” 

“He also likes collecting armor, horseback riding, and dislikes slothfulness,” Dedue said. “You two are alike in those respects.”

From the way Dimitri was glaring at him, Dedue realized the Prince had already made up his mind to passively hate this Ferdinand. Now he didn’t appreciate being likened to him.

Dedue shook his head and moved on. Stuck to the card for Ferdinand was the card for a student named Hubert von Vestra. He read through what was there as he asked, “What does it say on your card?”

“I go-o-ot it!” they heard a sing-song voice.

Dimitri and Dedue looked past the anemones, out the window, to the pond. It was Professor Manuela, in water three-foot deep. She was holding the skirt of her blue dress up in one hand, and a wilting set of papers in the other, as she declared to someone, “I found her syllabus! For Ancient Technology!”

“Very good!” came the voice of Professor Hanneman. He must have been standing on the pier. He said, “Bring it here. I’ll dry it.”

Professor Manuela waded out of sight behind the fisherman’s shack.

Dedue returned his attention to the Prince again. “What does your card say?”

Dimitri looked at him, pretending to look unsure of what he meant.

“Your Highness. I saw you take your card off of the table.”

The Prince gave a sheepish smile. “So I was not inconspicuous?” He pulled his card out of his pocket and looked at it, surprised when he read it.

The front said, Blaiddyd, 94. He had done well. He turned it over. Nothing.

The back of Dimitri’s had nothing.

He frowned, then flipped it back over. Not only did the back of his have nothing, the front of the card didn’t even have his full name.

He looked up to see Dedue watching him. “Okay,” he said. “Not an ally. I got it.”

Dimitri put his card away, and followed Dedue out of the greenhouse.


When Parvati came back out of Seteth’s office, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. Seteth had been quick to approve the syllabi and seemed distracted about something else. He didn’t even ask her about the syllabus for Ancient Technology…and she decided not to bring it up until she recreated it. Oh, by the way, I had forgotten to bring this other syllabus from my office! That’s what she’d say to him.

She trudged into her office, rubbing the side of her head as she sensed the beginning of a migraine. When she stepped into her office, she froze.

Prince Dimitri was perusing her bookshelf. He turned when he heard her enter. “Professor!”

Parvati blinked. “Hi.”

Dedue, who was standing in the middle of her office, motioned to her desk.

Parvati gasped. There were several large piles of papers stacked upon her desk. She rushed forward to see them. Dedue stepped aside as he continued sorting them.

“I think we’ve gotten most of them,” said Prince Dimitri, “or at least more than half.” He pointed past bent pages, to ones at the end that were crinkled. “Professor Manuela fished them out and Professor Hanneman dried them. The ones that had landed in the water.”

Of course, thought Parvati, thinking of Hanneman’s fire anima magic.

“They’re not completely illegible,” said Prince Dimitri. “He suggested recopying them.”

Parvati scoffed in disbelief. “The four of you did this for me?” She took a shuddering breath and cleared her throat. “It wasn’t necessary…certainly not for a Prince.”

Dimitri looked at her. “I like to think I can be a decent human being before I must be the Prince of Faerghus.”

Parvati’s brows went up. “That’s…good,” she said. Remarkable, she thought. She never anticipated this from royalty. Or nobility in general, for that matter. And…certainly not from him of all people…

“Thank you,” she said to them. “This will save me tremendous time.”

Dedue nodded, his expression unreadable. An awkward silence fell upon them.

Wait ’til Randolph hears the first students I had in my office were

Parvati’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a tummy rumbling. Prince Dimitri looked at Dedue with a blush. “You haven’t eaten?” she asked. “It’s three o’clock already.” She was astonished: it had just occurred to her that even royalty could have rumbly tummies.

“We got overexcited,” explained Prince Dimitri.

Parvati looked at Dedue. He didn’t look overexcited. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all…

The sound of a tummy rumbling happened again.

Prince Dimitri said, “That was yours, Professor.”

Parvati flushed.

“Why not join us for a late lunch?” he asked. “I know we only just met, but, I hope you will consent.”

Stay away from him, came Randolph’s voice. Be wary of the Prince.

Parvati scrambled for a reason why she could not go. That reason came in the form of a series of thuds, then a key being inserted and unlocking a door. The sound of something metallic rolled across the stone hallway floor. Through her doorway, she saw the door across from her office was opening.

“Aelfric!” whispered Parvati. It was time to meet her neighbor! 

Professor Aelfric was a mousy-haired fellow with a timorous expression. He was on his knees with his arms wrapped around something on the floor. Set on the ground behind him was a travel bag, and behind that, a strange silver contraption.

When Professor Aelfric saw Parvati and the students pop out of her office, he dropped whatever he was holding again in surprise. It was a globe. Or at least, the ball part of a globe. It resumed rolling thunderously away from him, in the direction of Hanneman’s office. Dimitri skipped over and stopped it with his foot.

“Hah! Professor Parvati, you must be!” the professor said. He had an amiable voice. He came up from his crouch and looked at the students, his eyes lingering on Prince Dimitri — then Prince Dimitri’s foot.

Aelfric did a sort of semi-bow that managed to be directed at absolutely none of them. He then said, “The Professor of Ancient Technology! Hanneman’s talked about you for months!”

“Hopefully good things!” Parvati said, feigning a cheerful smile. She was unsure of what to say; Hanneman had not said anything about him. She settled for the only piece of information she had gotten from Seteth: “You must be Aelfric!”

Aelfric nodded. He swept the knees of his red monks’ robes. Dimitri picked up the globe and dropped the ball into his hands. The professor made a hurgh! noise, dipping slightly under its weight and pedaling backwards. His feet knocked over the silver thing — the globe stand. Parvati and the Prince exchanged glances. She had a feeling she was seeing why Seteth too had said almost nothing about him…

“Did you just get in?” she asked.

“I’m afraid so…” he said, using an elbow to swing open his door.

Parvati stepped back the moment the door had opened. It smelled quite powerfully of…mothball packets.

“Did I hear you say something about lunch?” came Aelfric’s voice from his dark office. For some reason, he had blackout curtains covering the windows. “If you’re going, I’ll come with you. I am famished!” He emerged back out to retrieve his travel bag. “I would suggest the St. Cichol Inn for lunch. Or for dinner. Or anytime. The best food available at Garreg Mach.”

“St. Cichol Inn! I know of the one!” said the Prince, enthusiastic. He turned to Dedue. “I had told you I would take you there. That was where we always went with Glenn.”

Parvati hadn’t seen an inn inside the Monastery. “How far is it?” she asked.

“It is actually down the mountain,” Aelfric said. “Ah, sorry, it actually isn’t in Garreg Mach.” He had retreated back into the dark of his office, and they listened to his disembodied voice as he somehow moved about the room.

“Oh, in Saleh Mach, you mean?” Parvati looked out the windows at the end of the hall. It looked to be past three already, and nights came swift during the winter. It would take over a half hour to get into the trade city. “The cafeteria downstairs would be faster,” she said. “We’re all famished, aren’t we?”

They heard Aelfric stop moving. “Oh. The cafeteria downstairs is…” There was a moment of silence. Then he said, “No. St. Cichol Inn it is. I will see you there, Professor. It seems I have forgotten something.” And with that, he closed the door. Almost in her face. Kind of. Not exactly though. But kind of.

Parvati blinked. That was…surprisingly decisive of him. And sudden. She hadn’t said that she was going…but apparently, he expected to meet her there. She looked at Dimitri. What was she going to do? She couldn’t just…

Behind Dimitri was Hanneman’s door. All right, if she was going to get lumped in with these three, she would at least acquire some allies of her own!

But Hanneman wasn’t hungry. Whoops.

“Wait!” he said. “That’s a Blaiddyd! You must have a Crest! Allow me to do research!”

“Uninvited!” Parvati retorted, horrified to hear Hanneman refer to the Prince like some zoo animal. That’s a giraffe! That’s an elephant! That’s a Blaiddyd!

“He’s hungry,” Parvati covered for Hanneman. “You’re not allowed to do Crest research on him.”

Hanneman looked relieved that they were on joking terms again.

She softened. “Hanneman…thanks.”

He nodded. Then he gave directions to the St. Cichol Inn.

Across from his office was Manuela’s. Manuela said she wasn’t coming either. “I have a hangover,” she stated.

Hangover?” muttered Parvati as she exited the physician’s office. She shook her head. “When did you even manage to drink?”

Dimitri and Dedue, who had been waiting outside, exchanged glances.

Parvati looked at the students, the two of them towering over her. No way, she thought, filling with dread as she tried to wrap her head around what was happening. It was just her. It was going to be just her. And at some point, Professor Aelfric, but…from what she had seen of him, she wasn’t about to count on him.

It makes sense, Parvati thought with a sinking feeling. She couldn’t possibly ask for shielding forever. She had to deal with these kids.

All right, she thought. It’s time to put on the face. She couldn’t make it seem like she was not in command. The first thing she did was walk to her office. She fished for the keys in her green cloak pocket and, for the first time in her professorial career, locked the door to her office before the day had come to an end.

She could feel Prince Dimitri and Dedue’s eyes burning into her back. No unexpected visitors. Message relayed.

“Let’s go,” she said, not looking back as she led the way.

Chapter 5: The Inevitable Question

Notes:

1. Disclaimer: My Duscur is based heavily on South Asia, but it is a fantasy world, with a creative-licensed analog of the customs, cultures, languages and religions. It is not a direct representation of any actual countries / cultures / religions.

2. Click on the links if you would like to discover the background and inspirations! (Wikipedia links, links to images, videos and music videos) Disclaimer: I do not own the things I reference to in the in-text links.

Chapter Text

“Want one?” Professor Parvati proffered one of the pamphlets she had just purchased from the wood kiosk just inside of Saleh Mach’s entrance.

Dedue declined. He didn’t like reading in Anglais, the common language across Fódlan.

Dimitri accepted on his behalf, and promptly began reading it out loud for Dedue’s benefit. “Welcome to Saleh Mach, the trade central of Oghma Mountains, crossroads of armies, merchants and caravans. Along the south face of the mountains, the flowered prairies…”

“St. Cichol Inn…it seems to be five streets down from here. This way,” said Professor Parvati. She led them down the packed road, skirting along the sidewalk as she consulted the map. Her long silver braid, even longer than Dedue’s sister’s had been, swung like a hypnotist’s pendulum behind her green cloak.

“…scenic views of the sonorous city at the center of Fódlan, with green gabled roofs to shed snow into March…”

Back and forth, back and forth, with a little clink at every step. Dedue couldn’t understand what was clinking until they took a right at the end of the street and it came out of her shadow and into sunlight. The metallic hairpiece securing her braid — Dedue strained his eyes to determine — was that gold?

“…Garreg Mach Monastery, the endpoint of pilgrimage at the pinnacle of the mountain, is a locale beyond exclusive to non-passersby…”

Parvati came to a stop where it seemed they needed to cross the road, but traffic was bunched into a slow-moving circle that expanded out onto the sidewalks.

“…with less than a hundred students, less than one hundred clergy personnel, and the exclusive Knights of Seiros and monastery staff as its only inhabita — oh! Sorry, Professor!” Dimitri, reading the pamphlet, had walked into Parvati.

She frowned over her shoulder at him. Then she looked at Dedue and said, “What is happening?”

She was too short to see it, but a farmer’s cart was tilted into the middle of the road. The traffic diverted itself around the cursing farmer, horse hooves smashing tomatoes spilled out over the road into a blood-like pulp. Dedue spotted the runaway wheel some thirty feet up the street, lying next to the sweets vendor.

Dedue reported the cause of the traffic jam on the road and she frowned. “We’ll have to find some other way around.”

Dedue nodded, watching a three-legged dog lick at the pulp next to the downed cart. That must have been why it was three-legged; it was too dense to stay out of the road.

He felt the Prince tense up beside him. Before Dedue could ask what had happened, Dimitri was weaving through the sidewalks and charging towards Professor Parvati. The men she had been talking to were walking away.

Dimitri’s voice was rising out above the din. “Did you not hear her? It’s a small courtesy to answer the question.”

People glanced Dimitri’s way. The men he addressed had stopped, turned around and were actively sizing him. They had axes upon their belts.

Dedue hurried after the Prince. There were too many people between him and his liege. Any one of them could pull out a blade or a dagger. In a congestion of people like this, if they turned on him…he would become the three-legged dog. Why didn’t he, the Prince and the professor come on horses instead?

The men had wandered back to the Prince and the professor, and were saying something to them both, giving the professor a look of disdain. It wasn’t until Dedue joined them that the men looked up his way, factored in Dedue’s added size to the Prince’s, then chose to turn and walk away.

Dimitri turned to the professor, furious. “Why did you stop me, Professor? Why didn’t you let me declare myself the Prince?”

Dedue noticed that the professor had an arm flung out across Dimitri. She said, “Because the next time I come down here, I won’t be with the Prince, and then I am going to get it.” The professor crossed her arms. “You can’t save me, Prince Dimitri. Please don’t make things worse.”

Dimitri stared at her, jaw-dropped and taken aback.

Dedue looked at the Prince. “She’s right, Your Highness.”

Dimitri sulked. “Be quiet.”

Twenty minutes later, Professor Parvati pointed to the biggest building on the east end of Saleh Mach. “That must be the one,” she said. “And if it’s not, but it has food, I am eating there. My stomach is digesting itself.”

Dedue chuckled. The Prince, still surly, glowered at him.

Lanterns hung up and down the gabled roof. They came alight as the three approached. The mage responsible for lighting the lanterns nodded at them as they passed. Above her, the Crest of Cichol was carved into a grand hanging wooden placard. A series of tinkling wind chimes dropped out under it.

“Oh, Hanneman had said follow the wind chimes,” Parvati intoned as she followed them into the establishment.

Dedue had to pinch the cloth of fabric at Dimitri’s elbow to force him to stop in the lobby for a moment. They needed to wait for their eyes to adjust to the dark. Dimitri needed to be wary about what people were doing around him.

The St. Cichol Inn seemed to be a gigantic octagon, over six stories tall, the first two floors a tavern. On the first floor, a large stage occupied the center, and every table was set into an intimate alcove along the circumference. The second floor too hosted tables in a ring over those alcoves, ensuring the second-floor occupants could view the stage as well. There was no one on the stage right now.

“I have fond memories of this place,” said Prince Dimitri as they were led to one of the first floor tables in the alcoves. Professor Parvati slid into the bench on one side of it. Dedue led Dimitri into the other. The light filtering through the windows were quite dim. Dedue realized this was because the windows were textured with an opaque cube mosaic. He couldn’t see outside, and those outside could not see in.

It was private.

“I once came here with my childhood friends,” said the Prince. “Glenn was watching over us. The first time we were out without our parents! It was so exciting then.”

A silence befell them. All three of them slipped unconsciously to the same thought: without parents. How strange it was, how funny, just how excited they had been as children, on the chance to do anything without their parents.

Now all three would spend the rest of their lives doing everything without their parents.

A server came by to ask what they would like to drink. Dedue stirred, and with Dimitri, said, “Vodka.”

The server started writing it down as the professor burst, “Scratch that. I need to teach at least one class at the Officer’s Academy before I get fired for giving drinks to minors.”

“We’re not minors,” said Dedue.

“In Faerghus, drinking age is seventeen,” added Dimitri.

Professor Parvati said, “Welcome to — Not-Faerghus. If you’re not nineteen, you’re minors.”

It was the first time Dedue was genuinely irritated by the professor. He wouldn’t have minded being warmer, or less sober, with how the day was going. Dimitri grow even more surly beside him. It looked like it was just occurring to the Prince that that he was no longer the top of the chain of command. He was no longer in his castle in Fhirdiad.

The server took their orders, looked hard at the students to memorize their faces, then left the three simmering in a unanimous state of dissatisfaction as they waited.

Sounds from above startled Dedue and Professor Parvati. They looked up at the low ceiling. There were thuds and scrapes of wooden chairs being rearranged by second-floor patrons. When they went back to staring at each other’s mugs again, Professor Parvati decided to fill the silence.

“Hey, Dedue, what’s with the Dagdan name?”

Dedue started to fill with a sense of dread. “My mother’s adoptive mother was Dagdan,” he said. To Dimitri, he explained, “In Duscur, the family name runs down the maternal line.”

Dimitri raised his brows. “That’s something I didn’t know.”

“So what is your Duscuri name?” Parvati asked. “No way your friends and family called you Dedue.”

“They did,” he insisted. He knew where this was going.

“Okay, Dedue Molinaro, but what is your Duscuri name?”

When Dedue told her, Parvati’s hands came down with a slap upon the table. “DevDAS?” She fairly exploded.

People sent startled glances their way. Even second-floor patrons scooted to the ends of their tables to peek over the railing. Dedue shushed the professor, mortified. He was so glad he was on this side of Dimitri. Parvati put her hands together in a prayer position, sending sheepish apologies to patrons staring at them from alcoves on the other side of the stage.

“What? What does that mean?” Dimitri asked, seeing the grin upon her face.

“It means Servant of God,” Dedue tried to intercept, but Parvati dismissed his explanation with a wave.

“That’s not the important part. Devdas is only the starring role of the most famous romantic opera of all of Duskar!”

Dimitri looked at him with new eyes. “Is that right?”

The Professor Parvati from the first minute they had met her was back. She gushed animatedly with her hands. “It’s a love triangle! And a classic. Devdas goes abroad. He comes back after university. At home awaits Paro, his childhood friend and first love. And then — ” She quickly ran the Prince through a brief synopsis, complete with re-enactments of direct lines. “And she says, Liar! Ten years and five letters? — which, I have to say, I’m unimpressed — ” 

Prince Dimitri glanced at Dedue with a grin. It was a relief to return to this former Parvati. He was clearly enjoying this.

“ — and her mother was so offended that she married her off to someone else — ”

This is bad, thought Dedue. The Prince would no doubt use this against him. Just like every single girl in Duscur that Dedue had ever met.

“ — so he is pining away, when he meets Chandramukhi — a dancer — ”

The food arrived in the middle of her telling the story. The moment it came, she seemed to have broken out of a trance. She remembered them. “Oh. I must be boring you.”

“No at all, Professor! Keep telling the story,” said Dimitri, swirling the ramen in his Morfisine tan tan men with his chopsticks.

But Parvati was already getting cold again.

“Oh, Professor, don’t be that way,” said Dimitri. “I love seeing you like this. It’s downright mesmerizing. I suppose that look on your face is just another boon from this glorious day. Perhaps the best one of all.”

Parvati gave Dedue another look on her face. This look said, Help.

Dedue looked away and dug into his soup. His Highness had the embarrassing habit of being much too earnest. It had already confused a couple girls. And as He was coming of age, those instances were bound to get worse…

Parvati went back to telling the story, albeit with nowhere near the animation she had a few minutes ago. Dedue wondered if this was going to be the professor’s dynamic. It was clear she hadn’t wanted to be with them. They made Professor Parvati uneasy. The Prince of Faerghus, with a vassal from the country Faerghus had butchered? Why was Dedue with him? Was Dedue a traitor to Duscur then? He knew these thoughts were running through her head. It was obvious in their thirty minutes of silence as they walked to Saleh Mach from the Monastery. By the end, all three of them had been cursing Professor Aelfric. And now, she had remembered them, remembered who they were, and had gone back to being defensive and cold, with barely a light veil over her animosity.

But then he saw the animated Parvati was coming back again. When she finished telling the story, Professor Parvati leaned over the table. “So, Dedue…have you found Paro yet?” She wiggled her brows.

She seemed to have been custom-made for his torture. For the second time in one day, she had made Dedue the center of attention. Where is Professor Aelfric? he wondered, desperate for the Duscuri professor to stop compromising him. The professor and the Prince looked at him until Dedue cleared his throat and said, “No.”

“Are you sure, though? What if she found you?”

Another, emphatic “No.

The professor clicked her tongue, dissatisfied.

Dedue couldn’t keep up. He already had enough on his plate with His Highness. Dimitri had — moods, and Dedue could tell right away. One look at his face in the morning spelled the weather forecast of The Day According To Dimitri.

But Professor Parvati was something else. At least with the Prince, Dedue could expect growls and grumpiness for the whole day. Professor Parvati had the propensity to ricochet off both ends of the Happy-Mad spectrum in the same minute. And her vibrancy, Dedue was learning, went in both directions. Her emotions were a pulsating energy that set the stage for everyone else. Her mood was a part of the setting.

Prince Dimitri turned to Dedue. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this…Devdas?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I am only calling you by your name,” said Dimitri.

“You don’t get to call me that.”

Dimitri gave a sly grin. “But I am your family, and friend.”

Dedue opened his mouth, then closed it, glaring. From across the table, Parvati’s shoulders shook silently. Dedue directed attention away from himself. “How did you come here, Professor?”

Professor Parvati shrugged. “Seteth invited me.”

Dimitri, who was about to take a drink of water, put his glass back down. “Seteth?” he said. “You mean the Viceroy, Seteth?”

She paused. “There are more Seteths?”

“No!” said Dimitri. He exchanged a glance with Dedue. “Are you to tell me you were requested directly by the Viceroy himself?”

She had just stuffed her mouth full, so she nodded. “Five years ago, actually. It’s a surprise they still let me have this position.”

Prince Dimitri regarded her, agape. “You made Seteth wait five years.”

Dedue, too, had stopped eating to process this. She received an invitation? From the Officer’s Academy? From the Church of Seiros? And then she tested the patience of the powers that be? For the Archbishop and Viceroy were the powers that be.

“Why didn’t you come earlier?” Dimitri asked.

Parvati hesitated. “Things…happened.” She glanced at Dedue.

Dedue and Dimitri immediately understood exactly what she meant.

Then she said, “What about you two? How are you here, Dedue? And how did you two meet?”

And so they came to it, the inevitable question. From the way His Highness was looking at him, Dedue knew it would be up to him to answer it. And so he did.


“It was during the pogroms,” Dedue responded.

Parvati looked up.

“He risked his life to save a foreigner he had never met,” he continued. “The moment he extended his hand, I decided that only for his sake would I live the remainder of my life. And I would cast it aside in an instant if my death were to his benefit.”

Someone somewhere moved their drink. The sound of the ice shifting clacked like bones.

Parvati set her fork down and stared at Dedue. Someone opened the inn door. She could hear the it groaning. She could hear it squeak. The chimes tinkled outside. The woman at the counter was chuckling.

Pogroms. Her brain had slowed to a halt, unable to take more than one word at a time.

Pogroms. The wind had come to whisper in her ear. Her skin erupted in gooseflesh.

He was there, the words wheeled in her head. He was there. Dedue was there.

She opened her mouth. She wanted to ask clarifying questions. Did she… Did she hear him correctly?

…foreigner he had never met…only for his sake would I…remainder of my life…

She felt like she was swimming in his words. Did she hear him correctly? These concepts, these ideas — she couldn’t imagine them. She couldn’t have made them up. Even a mishearing would not have formed these sentences in her head.

…if my death were to his benefit…cast it aside…

Dedue looked at the Prince, then looked back. He had wide-set eyes. He had downturned lips. He had a severe face. He looked…so much…older than eighteen years old. This was a…student?

Parvati was falling inside of herself. How could Dedue say such a thing? Why would he throw away his life? Especially when they had taken away all other life — everybody else —

…foreigner he had never met…the moment he extended his hand…

Someone choosing not to kill Dedue was not equivalent to saving his life. It didn’t merit a reward, performing such a basic act of human decency. It made no sense! He shouldn’t be —

…I decided that only for his sake…remainder of my life… Dedue didn’t owe him anything! Certainly not his life!

…extended his hand…cast it aside… Why… Why was Dedue thinking this way? Did it mean nothing that they took away every part of his life?

That they took away every part of hers

Why would he serve —

The questions raced through her head. She was drowning.

…if my death were to his benefit…

Parvati wanted to throw up.

He was the first Duscuri she would be seeing in years, for more than a few hours or a few minutes. Everyone else, they always came and went. Here, at the Officer’s Academy, was one Duscuri student. She was going to have the chance to spend a full year with a Duscuri student. She’d had high hopes. She’d wanted so much from him — from — someone who could understand her grief and sorrow, to remember or regain the things they had lost. She didn’t know until now how much she had wanted from him. But he…he wasn’t…

They were still waiting for her to say something, so she said, “Is that so?”

It came off too much as a challenge. She saw Dedue frown and marked him as a loss for the people of Duscur. She didn’t know what Faerghus had done to him, but he wasn’t her people now. She could feel her heart claw itself out of its place.

Prince Dimitri deflated. He said, “Forgive me…I do not want to bring up foul memories. …But, would you hear what I have to say?”

She couldn’t imagine that she could just up and leave. She especially could not just stand up a prince. And, she was paying for the meal.

Prince Dimitri went on ahead in the ensuing silence. “Professor Parvati… The day my father was killed…I saw the people who did it.”

Parvati’s breath caught.

“They were not of Duscur. I saw that. Knew it, beyond a doubt. The people of Duscur did not commit this atrocity.”

She could feel her windpipe closing.

He said, “It was a third party. …And yet…I was unable to prevent the massacre that followed. Nor could I clear away the dishonor of regicide that has unjustly clung to you and your people! I will not rest until I make up for that. I owe you, just as I owe the spirits of those I let die.”

Parvati stared at him. Her appetite had vanished. Dedue was no longer eating either.

Dimitri looked at her, searching her face. Then he said, “You seem quite unaffected.”

Parvati popped up a brow. “What do you expect me to say?”

“I mean…something. Surprise. Shock. Agreement. Disbelief. I have to say professor…you are very hard to read.”

“Nothing you’ve said is shocking, Your Highness.”

Dimitri looked at her, a question on his face.

She put down the fork and knife. “I am a woman of science, Prince Dimitri. I rely on evidence and facts. So I did my own investigation. That’s what I was doing when the Viceroy…” She trailed off, feeling herself falling back into a person that she used to be… She shook her head. “I knew four years ago that there were no Duscuri there, at the time of the incident. The only people there were your people.”

Prince Dimitri’s face clouded over. “Are you suggesting…that someone from Faerghus…”

An alarm fired in her head and her heart. She had just glimpsed something ugly on his face. Tread carefully, Parvati, said the voice in the back of her head. So she said, “No, Your Highness. That is not what I am saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” This time, this was asked by Dedue. He had the same look he always did, but his eyes were alive. Intensely.

“I am saying that we both had evidence. That didn’t work out for either one of us, did it?”

Dimitri looked down and began pushing around the egg halves he’d left floating in the broth of his ramen.

Dedue, on the other hand, kept watching her. He wasn’t going to miss a single thing. He tracked her every expression, his impassive face a stone wall.

Parvati stood no chance trying to match his gaze. She looked down. She said, “I sorely wanted to believe…if only I had evidence… I wanted to believe, No one can argue with the evidence.” She looked back up to Prince Dimitri. “But that never mattered. That didn’t matter to the people of Faerghus. Look what your people did to us anyway. Do you know what we are?”

The heat was rising in the small of her back as she said the words: “Collateral damage.”

Dedue’s eyes widened. Dimitri’s chopsticks stopped swirling in the bowl. He looked up.

Parvati swallowed, her eyes glistening. “We were just collateral damage. We weren’t even part of the game.”

Dimitri stared at her silently until he had to blink unbidden tears. He leaned back against the bench, taking a shuddering breath. Beside him, something was happening inside Dedue. He could no longer look at her face. His eyes had fallen down to her hand, where the cup in her hand was shaking.

Dedue took the cup out of her hand. Then, gently, he set it back onto the table.

Parvati laughed softly. What a cool guy. The stone wall provides wordless comfort.

Parvati put her two hands on top of each other, to stop them from shaking. An attempt. She said, “The truth doesn’t matter, Prince Dimitri. Prove me otherwise.”

Dimitri stared into his ramen bowl as Parvati called to the server for the check.

 

Chapter 6: The Dark Merchant

Summary:

A chance encounter with the professor’s childhood friends reveal the professor is running from something — an arranged marriage and a hint of something else. Also — things that happen when one does not ride horses…

Notes:

Disclaimer: My Duscur is based heavily on South Asia, but it is a fantasy world, with a creative-licensed analog of the customs, cultures, languages and religions. It is not a direct representation of any actual countries / cultures / religions.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Let’s not talk about this again,” said Professor Parvati. She left the alcove first to pay.

Dimitri watched her as she paid for their food, frustration mounting inside of him. He thought, just for a moment, maybe he would find something more about his parents. But if she refused to talk about anything…

When Dimitri first witnessed Professor Parvati, he was overwhelmed. Framed by the sky behind her, with that impassive look on her face, she was at once powerful, haunting and beautiful. He thought he’d seen a glimpse of the Goddess.

But the Goddess only watches from above. That is all. Such were the thoughts of Dimitri on that affair, for he had already learned…that no matter how hard someone begged to be saved, She would never so much as offer Her hand. And even if She did, he thought, we lack the means to reach out and grasp it.

So why, for even a moment, did he think otherwise with Parvati? Her detached eyes had just passed over him and then she’d disappeared. She’d vanished like a ghost into the tower as his ears rang with bells and horns.

“She is leaving, Your Highness,” Dedue said. “It is dark outside. We should not let her go alone.”

He was right. After the professor had paid for their food, she had turned away. She turned her back on them, the way he should have known she would. She didn’t wait to see if they were following. She walked on.

Dimitri scoffed inside, sliding out from the table and heading towards the exit. This wasn’t a new feeling inside of him. He was always being left behind. He lived in the past, Felix had said, and even Sylvain had said, “Move on.” But no one asked if they should move on, as they did it. And no one ever asked if he could. Dimitri’s life had ended. He was a dead man in the world.

When Dimitri and Dedue exited the St. Cichol Inn, they found the professor deep in discussion with a man in a mask. Dimitri didn’t actually see the man at first because he was dressed in black and red robes, with a black triangular hood sporting a bird-like bill. Then he saw the rope of skulls hanging down across his waist.

A Dark Merchant? Dimitri thought. Why would the professor be involved with…?

“You said you weren’t going to be here yet,” he heard her saying.

The Dark Merchant had a vivacious tonality, and he sounded much happier to see her than she did him. “I’m just about to return to my trade route. I didn’t know you would be here already. I thought I’d see you next rotation. Look. Let’s go upstairs. I’ve got a room. We can talk up there. I have a message I’m sure you’re dying to hear.”

Parvati gave a sarcastic “Yeaaaaah.” She looked over her shoulder at Dimitri and Dedue. It gave the Prince an opening.

The merchant — or rather, the bird beak — turned to Dimitri and Dedue as they approached. He said, “Parboti, get behind me.”

She shook her head and intoned a “No no no.”

The bird beak pointed at her face. “They with you?”

She nodded. “These are my kids. Well, at least two of them.” She looked up at him. “Ekhane thakte bolbo?” she asked.

Ah. He was from Duscur.

Despite the fallen dark, the merchant managed to see the badge latching Dimitri’s cape. “A lion,” he scoffed. “Tell me, when have you ever seen a lion? They’re in Almyra, not Faerghus.”

Dedue and Dimitri stiffened. The worst part of it was, the professor was laughing at his expense. Dimitri felt heat rising to his face.

She saw the look on his face and put up a coy smile, saying, “Who knows? You might be looking at a Lion right now.”

Dimitri knew she didn’t mean that. A pretense at being contrite.

“And what of you?” The beak trained back onto Parvati. “You can’t be seen with people from Faerghus. What are people going to say?”

“The same things they always say, Sushant. When has what people said affected me?”

“Don’t be stupid. It affects you all the time. Whether or not you want to believe.”

She heaved a great sigh. This was clearly a worn out conversation. “Sushant,” she said, “go ahead and tell me what you’ll say.”

“Chandi is calling. You have to go home. Bishnu is already there.”

Dedue said, “Bishnu?”

Parvati and the merchant glanced at him. Then Parvati also said, “Bishnu?”

The merchant nodded. Then suddenly the things he was saying no longer made sense. Dimitri felt a spark of irritation. The merchant had switched languages. Dimitri whispered over his shoulder, “Dedue, what are they saying?”

Dedue listened for a moment before he translated. “He is saying Bishnu is God on Earth. A god amongst men. There are reports that he crossed from North Duscur on foot.”

“North Duscur?” Dimitri said.

“The part of Duscur not controlled by Kleiman,” Dedue explained. “The half in the north.”

“I know what it is,” Dimitri snapped. “But — it’s all ocean between the South and the North. The Narrow Strait. What do you mean he crossed from North Duscur on foot?”

“He says he walked on water. Walked on seas like they were dunes.”

Dimitri blinked. Then he said, “So now why is the professor screaming?”

“Because they are talking about her marriage.”

“The professor is married?”

“No. And she is trying not to be.”

Dimitri frowned. “And what does this have to do with — ”

“Hey-ey-ey cham-cha!” the merchant called out to Dedue.

Parvati yelped at him. “Sushant!

“Stop telling him things that are not his business!” the merchant said, pointing.

Parvati pushed down his pointing hand and frantically whispered something to him. Sushant squawked, “What!” The bird beak moved comedically back and forth between Dimitri and Parvati. He had just found out who Dimitri was.

Dimitri crossed his arms smugly and stepped forward. He was formally entering the conversation. The Dark Merchant took a step back. He was shorter than Dimitri, and if Dimitri plucked off his pointy hat, he would be even shorter.

“So you’re the prince?” Sushant asked Dimitri.

“Yes.”

“Of Faerghus?”

“Yes.”

Sushant looked at Parvati. “Then this is even more not his business!” he said. He jerked a finger to the ground for emphasis.

Parvati put her hands on his arms to calm him. Then she said, “Listen. This prince. He knows we are not at fault.”

“Oh, does he?”

She nodded. “He even tried to stop it.”

“How?”

Parvati blinked. Then she looked at the prince.

 

Dimitri flushed. “I was — not successful.”

“Clearly,” Sushant said.

“But he saved me from his brethren,” Dedue inserted.

“Oh, did he now?”

“He has the scars on his back.”

Both Parvati and the merchant went silent, taking that in.

Then Sushant said, “Prove it to me. Strip.”

Dedue and Parvati started. Parvati said, “Sushant!”

Dimitri could feel the flush in his cheeks. He did want to hear those words, but not from a man…

Sushant pointed to the inn behind them. “I have a room, Parboti! Don’t you want to check?”

The professor slapped his arm. “I am not going to have a student strip for me at the St. Cichol Inn!” she rasped.

Sushant rubbed his arm.

“In any case,” stated Parvati, breathing hard, "you can go tell Bishnu no thanks.”

Sushant glowered. “Do not make light of this.”

She scoffed. “We needed saving five years ago. The Savior God came too late.”

Parboti, the Gods come down when they are needed.”

“Then I’ll tell my God when He is needed. Until then, tell Bishnu to stay away.”

Dimitri looked at Dedue. “What does that mean?”

Dedue said, “I’ll tell you later.”

Dimitri glared at him, betrayed.

Parvati said, “Sushant, go home!”

“And what do I say to them? ‘Hold on, everyone! Call off the wedding! The bride isn’t coming. Oops!’

“Look, Sushant, just don’t say anything! Pretend you didn’t see me!”

Sushant crossed his arms. “You think I’ll go to Chandi and outlive a lie?”

Parvati made a noise of frustration and shook him by the shoulders. His pointy hat-mask shook like a Leceister bobblehead until the professor ran out of steam. “Look, Sushant, just…pay her my respects.”

Sushant got quiet right then. Dimitri didn’t know he knew the meaning of quiet. He was impressed.

Then Sushant said, “A lot of people will be disappointed.”

The professor looked at Dimitri and Dedue. “A lot of people already are.”


When Professor Parvati got back to the mountain road, she looked up at how far they had to go and declared to them, “I’m not going to make it.”

Dimitri followed her gaze. The mountain from Saleh Mach to the monastery was steep. As such, the road built into its face had to zigzag up in a series of switchbacks to make it even possible for carts and caravans to make it up to the summit. It would take multiple miles of zigzagging to get less than half a mile up the mountain.

In a series of sixteen switchbacks, to be exact.

This is what Parvati was looking at as she put her hands on her hips and cursed Aelfric. “I’m just a frail math professor,” she complained. “Who expects me to go up and down something like this? Guy didn’t even show up!”

“We can rent horses,” supplied Dedue.

“I don’t know how to ride a horse,” said the professor.

The students exchanged a glance. “Then how did you get up the first time?” asked Dimitri.

“I was in a carriage, being escorted by the Imperial Army’s Fifth Division.”

Dedue and Dimitri exchanged a glance. What Dedue was taking away from this was that the professor was someone who had been escorted by the Fifth Division of the Imperial Army’s. What Dimitri was remembering was…

On the day he and the Blaiddyd retinue were supposed to be entering the Garreg Mach Monastery, another retinue was traveling down the mountain. Because of the narrow nature of this road, traveling caravans and armies were required to reserve a time for one-way access to this road. But someone somewhere did not get the memo, because an Imperial foot-soldier army met ninety-eight horseback Faerghusi on a two-lane slope of the mountain.

Cue awkward stand-off.

Said stand-off went from awkward to bizarre in ten seconds.

The Faerghusi response — with no room for input from Dimitri — was to play the Faerghusi national anthem, loudly. And without pause.

It was unexplainably coordinated. No one knew who had the idea first, and no one knew why, but somehow, within ten seconds, every soldier of the Blaiddyd battalion had their horns out.

The Imperial soldiers were polite. Under orders of their second-in-command, they chose to oblige the Blaiddyd battalion. The foot-soldiers started moving single-file down the mountain, making space for the Faerghusi to proceed up the switchbacks.

The soldiers from Faerghus, on the other hand… Skilled in the art of sword and lance, they wielded their brass instruments right into the faces of the Imperial soldiers. Whether or not these Faerghusi soldiers had ever wanted to learn how to play this horn, they blew their hearts into these notes. They played with the bombastic audacity of knowing that their audience would have no idea if they were playing it wrong.

Decades later, this moment would be voted as the one, most annoying, most passive aggressive martial maneuver ever recorded in Fódlan military history.

Needless to say, the Prince was humiliated.

“It’s all right,” said Parvati. “I’ll just go back and make Sushant pay for a room for me. Though…I know what he’s gonna say when I get there.” She started mimicking him. “Of course you don’t know how to ride a horse. Why would you know something useful like that? Dhuttori!” The rest of Sushant’s extensive list of imagined complaints came out in Bangala, and by the end, Dedue was laughing quietly.

Dimitri smiled. He had rarely seen Dedue laugh. The Prince himself wasn’t known for his sense of humor, so he was no good at making anybody laugh, but the professor coaxed a few laughs out of Dedue already and they hadn’t even known her for a full day.

The Prince said, “You know, Professor… A former teacher of mine, Gustave, used to make me train by carrying rock-filled barrels and boulders up a mountain. I could carry you up, Professor. We’ll call it — some advance training.”

From behind the professor, Dedue was shaking his head.

Parvati said, “Pfft. I don’t believe you.”

And in this way, she ensured this would happen. Dedue facepalmed.

“Oh my Gods! Put me down! What are you doing?

“I will show you, Professor. I will make you believe!” The Prince picked up the professor in an awkward princess carry, and tossed her slightly up in the air to readjust his grip. He then said,  “I enjoy a challenge, so not only will I carry you up, I will do it in one trip, without putting you down. I will show you Blaiddyd strength!”

Dedue facepalmed again, adding his other hand to his first one on his head.

“This is — completely unnecessary!”

“Your Highness, please put her down.”

“My legs are working perfectly fine! I can walk!"

“Your Highness, this is going to take almost an hour.”

“Prince Dimitri, I demand that you put me down this instant!”

“Your Highness, it is harder to go up than down.”

The Prince tossed the professor slightly higher in the air, making her scream, and grinned smugly when she quieted. He started up the switchbacks. His vassal sighed in defeat and followed along.

They were a quarter of the way up the switchbacks by the time the professor relented and relaxed in his arms. She said, “Dedue, is he always like this?”

Dedue said yes.

They went up one more switchback when Professor Parvati said, “Oww. My hair.”

Dedue had to pull her braid out from where it had caught on Dimitri’s belt.

They were halfway up when Professor Parvati said, “You don’t have to do this. You’ve proved your point. Most people can’t even manage to get halfway.”

Prince Dimitri said, “I can do this.”

Dedue added, “Your Highness, this is not a task of strength. This is endurance.”

“I can do this, Dedue!”

The Prince was, however, feeling it in his thighs. He couldn’t talk anymore. He had to focus on his breathing, and he wasn’t sure his knees would stay locked in the correct place. He was also feeling it in his lower back. He was just glad it wasn’t as cold as Faerghus dawn, where the very air he breathed felt like it was cutting through the insides of his nose and his throat and behind his eyes.

Parvati marveled at how far they had come. The crown of mountains around them were pitch black silhouettes, but the rising moon managed to put a silver outline to the road they were on. Saleh Mach glittered like Fhirdiad. Dimitri couldn’t see all of this. He just kept moving forward.

By the time he was three quarters up the switchbacks, he was dramatically slowing. It was his right foot’s back tendon that noticed it most: these last switchbacks, was there an increase in the incline? Did they truly make the last set of switchbacks steeper than the rest? This was tougher than he anticipated. His thighs were screaming, and his shoulders and arms ached from being in one position too long. He didn’t think it would be appropriate to throw the professor over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes though, so he didn’t say anything.

“Your Highness,” Dedue said, noting Dimitri was struggling. He offered to take the professor from here.

“Or — I could walk,” reminded Parvati. “I’m not injured, remember? This is completely unnecessary. And I am sufficiently rested. This does not need to happen.”

Dimitri was too tired to say no, but when Dedue started moving closer to take her, Dimitri started moving in the opposite direction and emitted angry grunts.

Dedue was right. This was a test of endurance. Even though he’d trained with things much heavier, he certainly allowed himself to set his weights down regularly. But now, he didn’t dare stop for even a second. If his legs stopped now, he feared they would not start moving again.

Professor Parvati was looking at him. “Looks like I can’t stop you, so I guess I’ll get out of the way.”

Dimitri scoffed and said, “You…just…figured…out?”

Parvati grinned. “Come on! You got this far! You can do the rest! Dedue! Push him!”

Dimitri chuckled as Dedue leant his strength. He felt Dedue’s hands land on his back and push him forward. The task was lighter with the help of a friend.

Then Professor Parvati said, “Three more switchbacks! By the Gods, if you do make it to the top, Prince Dimitri, you will be a god amongst men.”

That did something for Dimitri. He came to a stop.

Parvati looked alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re going to do it, Professor. Hold onto me.” It was a command.

Parvati linked her hands behind his neck, witnessing his resolve. She grinned. “We’re almost there, Prince Dimitri.”

He nodded. “We are.”

She hoisted herself up. It was a huge relief to his arms. Dimitri focused his second wind on driving his legs.

“Keep going, Your Highness,” Dedue said, smiling when they started to see the outer wall of the marketplace. The guards from two switchbacks up had spotted them.

“I can’t believe you’re doing it,” Parvati added. “I can’t wait to tell Manuela. And Hanneman. They’re going to be like, ‘Wow!’”

Dimitri chuckled. Through the searing pain. That was a mistake. It made things worse, but he didn’t care. He was sensing victory, jubilant.

As he went on, the professor got louder and louder. The two guards from the gate, overhearing, came to the edge and looked down over them as Dimitri passed underneath in the second to last switchback.

“You’re doing it! You’re doing it! Let’s go, Dimitri! Go go go! Aaaaah ha ha haa!!!” said the professor.

The guards, quickly gathering what was happening, started raising their pikes and bouncing up and down as they were hollering, “Almost there! Almost there! One more corner, Your Highness! One more corner!”

When Dimitri turned the final corner, with only the road to the gate to go, there were more guards at the gate. “What’s going on?” he heard them say. One of the guards was pointing and explaining. Within seconds, they also joined into a seamless cheerleading battalion. “You can do it! You can do it! A hundred feet! You can do it!”

Dimitri picked up his stride. One foot in front of the other.

At fifty feet, he could hear himself breathing.

At forty, there was Parvati’s glowing eyes and beaming face as she pointed him forward.

At thirty, Dedue’s strong, warm, solid hands pushing from behind him.

At twenty, he almost dropped the professor. She had gone completely hysterical, bouncing in his arms in excitement.

“Oh my Gods! Oh my Gods! Ten! Nine! Eight!” Some more squeals. “You are almost there! Three! Oh my Gods, Dimitri!”

She was all squeals when she jumped out of his arms. Dimitri had brought her right to the gate of the marketplace, where they were enclosed by a circle of Monastery guards.

“I…did it,” said Prince Dimitri, falling to his knees. All of the exhaustion came to hit him in one collective blow. He landed with his hands in the gravel, dizzy.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Parvati’s boots hopping as she exclaimed to whoever would hear it. “Did you see that? Did you see?” she asked, violently shaking some random guard by the shoulders.

Dedue kneeled beside Dimitri. “Your Highness.”

“I’m fine,” said Dimitri, turning to smile.

“You did it, Dimitri! You did it!”  he heard Parvati squealing. He looked up now, to see Parvati’s ecstatic form framed against the sky. She threw her arms out like wings. “Prince Dimitri, a god amongst men!”

His heart exploded.


Meme By DragonCat

Faerghus Soldiers go dOOt!

Notes:

Meme from Dragoncat. 🤣 This is glorious!

Chapter 7: Waiting for a Friend

Summary:

Catherine nearly makes a tremendous mistake. Meanwhile, Parvati is thrown by misperceptions of the company she keeps.

Chapter Text

“Greetings, Catherine Thunderbrand! Nothing to report!” was not the way Catherine wanted to be greeted the night she found the Prince of Faerghus unconscious at the gates of the Monastery. 

The first thing she had heard was the commotion. The first thing she had seen was the ring of guards. And the first time she laid eyes on that man of Duscur — that behemoth hulk, that bear — crouching over the body of the Prince, Catherine’s hand went straight to her blade. 

What was this man of Duscur doing to the Prince? Or rather — what had he already done? 

The sound of the world fell around her as she pressed with her hand into the crowd. It took a gentle push at the shoulder and a sweep of the arm to move one guard this way, one guard that, as her sword the Thunderbrand came alive in its scabbard, crackling with red lightning in her right hand. Other guards looked over their shoulders at her, some surprise interrupting their merry faces as she parted through the lot of them. 

She took a deep breath in, the sound of her breath magnified in her ears as she began summoning the Crest of Charon. The world sank into a slowing. She could hear the Thunderbrand whine.

Then, something tugged at her. It pulled from behind. Catherine broke out of her trance, the power of her Crest dissolving as she looked back. 

Coming out of a Crest summons was like rising back out of water. It took a moment to focus upon the woman tugging Catherine’s left hand. It came to her slowly. Parvati. Parvati was already in the middle of telling her something, though the knight couldn’t hear her over the whine in her ears from the Crest summoning. 

Catherine caught the tail end, though, as Parvati said, “That kid is such a silly! You should have seen it.” The beaming professor leaned around Catherine to holler at someone behind her. “Hey! Dedue! Carry him. I’ll explain along the way.”

Catherine followed Parvati’s gaze, saying, “What?” 

“This is Dedue!” said Professor Parvati. “He is a vassal to the Prince. Dedue, say hi!”

The man of Duscur responded. He said, “Hi.”

Catherine’s eyes flew up to his face. Whoa, she thought. Her stomach dropped. Now she saw the OA uniform. Now she saw the pin of Faerghus. If she had struck this Duscuri man…what would she have said to the Prince?

Meanwhile, Dedue tossed the Prince over his shoulder with ease. 

“Can you lead us to the student dorms?” Parvati said, talking to Catherine again.

Catherine looked at the professor bouncing on the balls of her feet. Why was this professor so happy all the time? When Catherine nodded, the professor gave an exaggerated bow with a hand stretched out to the Garreg Mach Monastery. 

“Ladies first!” said Professor Parvati. 

The guards started dispersing as Catherine led the way. The world was crisp again, and Catherine could feel the sharp, icy wind biting at the tips of her ears again. A light breeze swept over her neck and down her collar. The professor had taken out another one of her lights, hurrying after Catherine and clicking it on to light the way. They followed the stream of light, past the fishing pond, past the greenhouse. Through all of it, Catherine glanced back constantly to check on Dedue. The student of Duscur said nothing as the professor of Duscur chattered non-stop. 

“So that’s what happened,” said Catherine when Parvati finished recounting the trek back up the mountain. “Yeah, don’t bother with Aelfric. He says he’ll be there, but he really won’t.” 

As she was saying this, Catherine’s thoughts raced in a loop like a snake eating itself. Was it a danger to let these Duscuri people know where the students lived? But then, one was a professor — and the other was a student.

Dedue finally said something as they were arriving at the dorms. He said, “The Prince is on the second floor.” 

So he already knows where Prince Dimitri lives, thought Catherine. Which meant she wasn’t going to be able to hide the Prince from him. In any case, it didn’t even make sense for Dedue to not know. Dedue was his vassal. She could not tamp down her unease. 

I don’t get it, she thought as Parvati beside her skipped forward to hold open the door for them. How did he choose a man of Duscur to be his vassal? She didn’t have the chance to ask any questions, however, because the trio was met halfway down the hall by a pair of students. 

“Ooooh! Who is that?” asked the kid with the yellow cape draped over his shoulder. He was pointing at the Prince.

“Ooooh! Nice butt!” said the pink-haired girl beside him, pointing at the same. 

Behind her, Dedue started. Catherine flushed too. Prince Dimitri was slung over Dedue’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Neither had taken into account how inelegant the situation was for the Prince.

“Who are you?” Dedue said with a glower.

“I thought you would never ask!” said Kid Yellow-Cape. “I — am Claude von Riegan,” he announced with flourish. 

“And I — am Hilda Valentine Goneril!” said Miss Pink-Hair, mirroring his moves.

“And we are — ” — they linked arms together — “ — the Golden Deer!” They posed.

“Oh-ho-ho my Go-ho-hods!” Catherine heard Parvati titter behind her. 

“We’ll be the ones defeating you in the Mock Battle!” announced Hilda.

“And you’ll get an ass-kicking at Gronder Fields!” declared Claude, pointing.

“It’s decided already!” said Hilda. “Because the Golden Deer — ”

“ — are golden!” Claude finished.

“Feeeeear the Deeeeeer!” Hilda added, complete with hissing noises.

Catherine and Dedue, both Blue Lions, stared at the strange pair, then proceeded to walk wordlessly around them.

So this is the future of the Leceister Alliance, thought Catherine. Claude was the future Archduke, the leader of the whole Alliance. Hilda was of the noble House Goneril, which defended the Leceister Alliance’s eastern border against Almyra.

“Hey!” they heard Hilda snap. “You didn’t tell us your names!” 

“We even did the whole show!” said Claude.

“It was a lot of work, you know!” said Hilda. 

The two followed Catherine and Dedue to the end of the intimate, dimly lit hallway, Hilda saying, “Who are you, anyway? Are you even supposed to be in these halls? You look way too old.”

Catherine was twenty-eight. She spun on her heels. “Okay, little girl — ” she started. She stopped midway to squint at the professor. Parvati had not even made it halfway down the hallway. She was staring with her jaw dropped at the name placard beside one particular door. 

Parvati, realizing the others were looking at her, pointed at the placard. “This room is Lady Edelgard’s!” she said. Lady Edelgard was the future Empress of Adrestia, making her Parvati’s sovereign. Parvati shook her hands at it reverently like she had just discovered the mother lode.

“Parvati, get over here,” Catherine ordered. She sighed. This professor was such a tourist.

When they opened the Prince’s door, Claude and Hilda were the first to file in. 

“Hey! Why are you in there?” Catherine demanded. 

“Huh. This looks exactly like my room,” said Claude, taking in the bed, study table, carpet, windows, bookcase and the giant chandelier on the ceiling.

“So boring,” said Hilda. 

“It’s even got the same books!” Claude reported from the bookcase.

Soooooo boring,” said Hilda. 

Catherine looked around. Now where was Parvati?

The Knight of Seiros stepped back into the hallway. Parvati had barely made it two more doorways down the hallway. She pointed frantically at this one’s placard as well. “This one says Bergliez!”

Catherine rolled her eyes. The name Bergliez on that placard meant that that student was related to Randolph, Parvati’s lover. That room must have been for Caspar, the second son of the Adrestian War Minister. Caspar was Randolph’s…step-nephew, did Randolph say?

“Parvati, get over here,” Catherine commanded again.

By the time Catherine saw what Dedue was doing, the Prince was already being tucked into bed. His boots were placed at the bedposts. His blue House Leader cape was slung from the back of a chair. He was rolled to his side, his face sinking into pillows that had been plumped, and Dedue was pulling the blue quilt with the diamond pattern up to his chin.  

“Whoa. This room is even bigger than the triple I shared with my college dorm mates!” the professor said as she finally wandered in. “Wow! Is this a party in here?’

“Who is this lady?” asked Hilda, coming up to Parvati with her hands on her hips.

“That’s our math professor,” Claude responded.

Eww,” Hilda responded instinctively. “I mean — ” 

Hah! thought Catherine. She felt much the same.

Professor Parvati leveled Hilda with a look. “I’m going to remember this.”

“H-Hey! I’m — I’m sorry. I just — have no head for mathematics,” said Hilda. “Like. Nothing. Zip. So…don’t have any expectations for me.”

“Okay, Helga.”

“My name is Hilda.”

“Okay, Hilda.”

Claude had taken a spot next to Dedue at the Prince’s bed. “Awwww. The Prince is sleeping. Isn’t he cute?”

“Like a baby,” said Hilda. She and Parvati joined alongside Claude.

“He’s completely tuckered out,” said Parvati, smiling. “Awwww, iz a Baby Blaiddyd.” 

Catherine and Dedue exchanged a glance. Parvati had sunk into baby-talk voice. She didn’t see it, but her words lit Claude’s eyes as he gave Hilda a nefarious grin.

Things were not going in a good direction.

Dedue said, “If the Prince ever hears, he will personally throw every one of us out the window.”

Parvati dismissed his woes with a wave. “Oh, come on, Dedue. He wouldn’t be so dramatic.”

She was wrong. She would find out later, of course, along with Catherine, but she was wrong. For now, Dedue could do nothing more than give her a look. Unfortunately, the look on his face looked like almost every other look on his face: pretty blank.

“Speaking of windows, where are the curtains?” Parvati asked, pointing.

Catherine realized Parvati was looking at her. She said, “I’m not in charge of curtains.”

“Well, somebody is,” said Parvati. “Are you telling me the Prince of Faerghus slept without curtains yesterday?”

There was a moment of silence. Then Dedue said, “I have no curtains as well.”

Parvati exploded. “Is this the Officer’s Academy? Is this really how we treat our children?”

“I’m not a children,” snapped Hilda, as Claude and Dedue gave Parvati a resounding “SSSSSHHHhhhhh!” Then she was immediately escorted out of the room. Catherine could hear her still going on and on, her voice fading as she wandered back down the hallway. After successfully kicking Claude and Hilda out, and then Dedue, Catherine checked the windows. Made sure they were locked. Damn. The professor was right. No privacy. This was way too vulnerable. She’d have to report to Seteth…

On her way out, Catherine stopped to take a look at the Prince. She had imagined a different circumstance in which she would reintroduce herself to him. He was, after all, the future King of Faerghus. In another life, she would have sworn loyalty to him. The last time they had spoken, she was still Cassandra Thunderstrike, of House Charon, of Faerghus. That was over a decade ago. 

She gave a lopsided grin. What had she said the first time she had seen him? Look at that young maiden, wielding that giant lance! How adorable! She had been thrown off by his haircut, that was all. It was a bowl cut. 

Now that she looked at him, however, she realized she hadn’t actually yet seen his face. He was facedown when he’d collapsed, and then he was facedown when Dedue had hoisted him up. And now… Catherine stepped closer, her shadow coming over the blue quilt as she examined him. He had a jawline now…and he needed a shave. 

Wow, thought Catherine. Looks like that pipsqueak is finally growing up, just a little bit.

She flipped the lock on his door and closed it for him.

In the hallway, Catherine let herself take a deep breath. The Prince was safe. She had met his Duscuri vassal. And… And thankfully she hadn’t killed him. This last note was something she shoved immediately into the back of her head. She could still feel the tinge of a muted horror, as the thought came unbidden again. What would she have said to the Prince? 

She was so deep in these thoughts, she didn’t realize Parvati and Dedue were standing at the end of the hallway until she came upon them. She was surprised to see them still there.

“Time to tuck Baby Devdas into bed!” chirped Parvati as Catherine approached.

“Baby what?” asked Catherine.

“Forget it,” said Dedue, shaking his head.

Catherine followed the two down the stairs, realizing, her response should have been: “What? Why?” Do I have to do this? she wondered. They had delivered the Prince. That was…pretty much where she had expected to part with them. Back out in the cold, she trailed behind them reluctantly, eavesdropping on their conversation. Dedue’s voice was too low for Catherine to hear, but the professor’s voice carried enough in the space between the dorms and the dining hall for Catherine to guess. 

“Where is your jacket? Where are your gloves? You need a hat. …I don’t care if you got accustomed to Faerghus. The hat is what’s important. …So. You want to be a taku bell instead? You are going. To go. Bald! …Your hair is like my father’s. If you don’t wear a hat, it will go like my father’s as well. Taku bell!

Huh, thought Catherine, allowing herself a small smile. It was starting to look like Dedue’s hair was more important to Parvati than to Dedue himself. Dedue’s silver hair was the type that stood up straight, even when it was an inch-and-a-half off of his head. It shone white in the moonlight, like Parvati’s, and was longer in the back. If it wasn’t bound in the small ponytail, it would probably go down the back of his neck. 

Catherine swallowed. If the Thunderbrand had come away into her hand…she would have aimed for that neck.

No!” retorted Parvati. “Your hair is like my father’s! You have to take care of it!”

Catherine’s heart constricted as she listened to the carefree tone of Parvati’s voice. She gritted her teeth and picked up her pace.

Dedue’s room was on the first floor, second-to-last from the very end, which meant it was right beneath Dimitri’s. Unlike the second floor dorm rooms, which were all connected to one central hallway, the first floor rooms opened directly outwards instead. Catherine and Parvati walked him to his room. Dedue seemed more surprised by this than anything.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said to the professor.

“It’s been a long day,” Parvati responded. “But all we have to do now is say good night.”

Dedue regarded her for a moment. Then he bowed to both Parvati and Catherine, his golden earring glinting in the moonlight. He said, “Thank you, for this day.”

Professor Parvati bowed back. “A mother’s blessings, for this night.”

Catherine looked back and forth between them. This seemed to be some kind of ritual. Then she realized the two of them were waiting for something, so Catherine bowed as well and said, “Uhhhh…yeah… Good night.” 

She could feel the blood rushing to her face. Whatever this was, she’d completely botched it.

Dedue entered his room. Parvati and Catherine strolled to the other side of the courtyard. At the end of the grass pathway, Catherine heard Parvati’s footsteps stop. The professor was standing there, silently looking back the way they came. Catherine waited for Parvati to say something, to laugh or whine or crack some stupid joke, but her teal eyes glowed, unsmiling. In this way, the Prime Knight of Seiros and the Professor of Ancient Technology stood side-by-side, their watchful eyes fixed on the same thing. A gibbous moon crawled up the sky behind them.

The professor spoke at last. “Thank you, Catherine.”

Catherine felt something cool drop into her stomach, like a tear drop of ice from her heart. She hesitated. “For…what?”

There was a moment of silence. “For keeping us safe.”

Catherine felt the knot in her stomach tighten. If she’d had just had one more second, one more second today for her Crest to unite with her sword…then she could have made the second-worst mistake of her life. The only thing that stopped her today was — she looked up — Parvati. It was Parvati who had taken her hand. If there was one person who had kept someone safe today, it was Parvati, not her. Not Catherine. 

Catherine was beginning to feel sick. “You… You really don’t need to thank me for tonight.”

But when Professor Parvati turned to her, she had that bumbling smile again. “But I do! Because, ah, heh heh…” She scratched her head. “It’s pretty dark, isn’t it? Uhhh…how do I get back to my apartment?’


Parvati knew how to get back to her apartment. Garreg Mach wasn’t Enbarr, a sprawling collection of mini-cities that kept expanding until it became one monolithic metropolitan center. This was a baker’s dozen of buildings. Certainly, the towers were taller than any found within Enbarr’s skyline — no one in the Imperial Capitol was allowed to build higher than the Imperial Palace — but even then, the bulk of the Knights of Seiros was housed in Saleh Mach. Only elite officers were offered a place within the Monastery, and among them, more than three-fourths chose to be with their retinues anyway: ready to leave at a moment’s notice, ready to intercept in time for Garreg Mach to receive notice, and within easy access of all of the amenities afforded to one in only the finest cities. This left the Garreg Mach Monastery housing less than two hundred people in the Monastery, to Enbarr’s eye-popping half million. 

So, no; Parvati was not going to get lost here. But Catherine ate up the excuse, and walked her back to the Faculty Hall. Parvati gave a bright smile when the knight gestured to the staircase, saying, “Ladies first,” and tugged her cloak in tightly about herself, trying to keep herself from sprinting up the four flights. It was a good move; her newly nauseous stomach probably couldn’t handle it. She was so done she was so done she was so done.

Since the moment she saw Catherine, Parvati’s every move was calculated — giving the knight a cheerful reception, telling Dedue to say hi, chattering the whole way to the student dorms. Why? Because she saw the look on Catherine’s face, the moment the knight first saw Dedue. The way her hand reached subconsciously for the blade at her hip. 

No. Parvati knew before then. Parvati had known from the very first moment she had laid eyes on Catherine. 

Enemies at first sight. They were not friends. 

The only thing for which she could truly thank Catherine — was for the fact that the knight had made it plain. It was on her face; the Prime Knight of Seiros couldn’t keep anything off of it. That meant it would not be a latent surprise to Parvati. There was no guesswork, and she would not have to be shocked. 

She would not be betrayed. 

Which was why, from the moment she saw Catherine, Parvati immediately slid into a practiced series of movements. Giving the knight a cheerful reception, stepping in between her and Dedue while she was telling Dedue to say hi, chattering the whole way to the student dorms to keep the tension low, to keep the knight distracted. It was active work to keep herself between them as they walked. They were both taller than she was, with bigger strides. Somehow, the weight of Prince Dimitri over his shoulder did nothing to slow down Dedue, so Parvati found herself almost jogging. She hated jogging. And all throughout it, she could see Catherine checking Dedue right over Parvati’s own head. 

Stupid tall people.

That was when the nausea hit, without half a hint of warning, and in great force. Parvati was lucky to have just made it up the student dorm stairs. When those two chatterbox students appeared, she felt like they’d been a godsend. She decided it would be safe to let Catherine and Dedue go on to the Prince’s room without her, while she leaned a hand against the hallway to try to steady herself and gauge how many seconds or minutes she had within her before she threw up whatever the hell she ate at the St. Cichol Inn. 

What had done it? Was it the change in altitude that had her feeling this way? Perhaps her stomach decided it did not like to be rocked up the mountain? It would have been better to walk the whole way? Whatever was making her nauseous, she was certain the two girls whose dorm rooms were at this end of the hallway wouldn’t appreciate it if she hurled right in front of their doorways. The placards said Ingrid and Marianne. 

Yeah, this was not how she wanted to start those relationships.

“Hey! You didn’t tell us your names!” she heard the Golden Deer girl say to Catherine.

“Yeah! We even did the whole show!” said the Golden Deer boy. 

Parvati started feeling a little better — surprisingly better, actually — and saw the signs to the communal bathrooms at the other end of the hall. It would be extremely embarrassing to have to run past everybody if she had to…ugh…so she followed them.

For about ten steps. Then, like a wave, the nausea returned again. She couldn’t remember much of what happened after that. She was mostly occupied with figuring out how to not throw up on Catherine, how to not throw up on — Hilda? Or was it Helga? — how to not throw up on the Prince as he was sleeping. The hallway was a mercy to her, to get her away from all the other activity. 

By the time Dedue had come down the hallway, Parvati was feeling better again. He found her standing erect at the end of the hallway, with her arms crossed.

“Good night, Professor,” he said as he passed her.

Parvati said, “Hold on, Dedue. Wait.” She wasn’t about to let him walk around at night without an escort. Not in this place, where the people didn’t know him.

The hilarious thing, the amazing irony that Parvati was trying to stomach here, was the fact that the very person she had stepped in to protect him from — was also the best escort for Dedue in the Monastery. The Prime Knight of Seiros: Catherine Thunderbrand.

 Tonight, an unknown Duscuri man had been able to walk from the marketplace to the student dorms with the limp body of the Prince of Faerghus. They made it to the student dorms. They were not approached by anyone. There were no questions. This was only possible because of one person.  

That person wasn’t Parvati. It was Catherine.

Now, if Dedue and Parvati exited…this was not guaranteed. 

Dedue stood looking at Parvati. She realized he was waiting for her to speak. In the ensuing silence, however, he realized what she had really meant: wait. 

There was a good cold wind coming up the stairs, to keep her stomach calm. She stood there enjoying it, examining the ornate pattern on the carpet as she rehearsed her next line again and again, the line she would say when Catherine came back: Time to tuck Baby Devdas back into bed! 

That was when Dedue said something that left her utterly gobsmacked. He asked, “Are we waiting for your friend?”

She was so thrown, Parvati stared up at him. Friend? she thought. Did she and Catherine look like…friends?

Which was why, when at last Parvati was fishing for her keys outside her apartment, and Catherine told her to take care of herself, Parvati turned to her and said, “What?”

The Knight of Seiros put a hand on her hip as she said, “Shamir and I are going to be out for a while. Church of Seiros business. We won’t be back until Orientation. So in the meanwhile…” She had that kind of look like she was hoping Parvati wouldn’t make her say it.

So, of course, Parvati made her say it. “What?”

Catherine cleared her throat and looked around. “Well, uhh… Well, I won’t be around, so… So you’ll have to keep an eye out for yourself. And…for Dedue.” By the end, her eyes had returned to Parvati again.

Parvati stared at Catherine for a moment. And then her eyes widened.

It took Catherine by surprise as well. She cleared her throat. She itched her nose. Then, again, she cleared her throat. 

This was the first time Parvati was getting a good look at Catherine. The Faerghus blue double-iris, the red seal of Seiros stamped on the chest plate, the leather necklace cord Parvati had only ever seen on men. Now she saw the long lashes, the dark angled brows, the bulging right arm — like Randolph’s — because it was Catherine’s weapon-wielding dominant arm. 

Well, I won’t be around, so you’ll have to keep an eye out for yourself. And…for Dedue, Catherine had said. Parvati tried to gauge the knight. Was she serious? Was Catherine deciding to be her friend?

Parvati found her key, inserted it into the door, and gave a little groan, covering her mouth with her other hand and leaning into the door again as the nausea came back. 

“Hey! Are you okay?” Catherine stepped forward. 

Parvati shook her head. “I don’t know why…I just…sudden nausea…”

Catherine’s eyes lit up with recognition and she took a big step back. “You were walking on my right side this whole time, weren’t you?”

Parvati blinked.

Catherine tapped the sword at her belt. “It’s because of Thunderbrand. It releases a type of energy that…well, you will want to be compatible with. I’ve got the Crest of Charon, so I don’t get affected, but everyone else…”

That’s why Catherine was standing with her left shoulder to Parvati, putting the Thunderbrand as far as she could from her as she spoke over her shoulder. It was making sense now. Randolph had told her, Catherine had a Holy Relic, a special weapon that only people with the right Crest could wield. But Randolph hadn’t mentioned that to everyone else, there would be such immediate side effects, even outside of combat.

Catherine said, “Long story short, just don’t stand near my right side again. Or walk along it.” She scratched her nose. “Sorry about that…”

“Oh,” said Parvati. “That explains it. I’m glad to know what it is then. Thank you.” She thought back again to what Dedue had said, then added, “Be safe, Catherine. I’ll be waiting for you.”

The Prime Knight’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Yeah. Okay,” said Catherine.

They stared at each other for another moment. Catherine was starting to turn red. The air between them filled with the sound of the intermittent crackle of Thunderbrand. At long last, Parvati opened her door and slipped into her apartment, then closed the door, listening. It took a couple moments, but she eventually heard footsteps retreating as Catherine departed.

Chapter 8: Fear the Deer

Summary:

Parvati reflects on her new found acquaintances and aches for Randolph. Meanwhile, Dimitri learns to Fear the Deer.

Notes:

Fan art by @hearingoff! Thank youuu!!!!! It made me sooooo happpyyyyyyyy! 🥰👏🏾😍🎉 💃🏾 💃🏾 💃🏾

Chapter Text

 

 


When Catherine’s footsteps retreated, Parvati let go of the breath she had been holding.

She was back. She had made it.

Time for some self-care. 

She threw open all the windows. On the balcony, she breathed in the scent of pine. The clouds moving over the moon cast their shadows over the great courtyard expanse, so she couldn’t see what lay between her building and the residential complex across, only that it was twice as tall, with winking flame dot flickers in the windows.

To the right of her balcony was Manuela’s. How delightful! They could just come out and chat right here, be it evening or morning or night. How much fun, how much more intimate! After all, everything was different in the moonlight or a morning breeze. There was only so much that could be said in the stale walls of an office. Or maybe they’d listen in on someone else talking, in an upstairs or downstairs balcony, lounging in the intimate moments of unseen strangers. 

Back in her apartment, she dropped her cloak onto the back of one of the chairs. The apartment was cooling down rather quickly. It would make for easy sleeping tonight. She had her work cut out for her though. The walls were still blank, and the floor was cluttered with boxes and suitcases. The parakeets were chirping way past their bedtime. She put a cloth over them, shushing them, then wandered to the kitchen.

This kitchen was a marvel, so much wider than the one in her Enbarr apartment. And much bigger, actually. Despite making professor in Enbarr, she had never moved out of her grad student apartment. She was hardly ever home anyway, so the narrow space in the kitchen didn’t matter much. Or, at least, that was what Parvati had believed. She put her hands on her hips, appraising it. Now that she had this kind of kitchen, she realized, maybe she wouldn’t have resorted to the cafeteria all those years.   

And now for the true test: she turned on the tap and felt a rush of relief. The hot water was actually working…unlike her kitchen in Enbarr. Dear gods! Did she live like a pleb? All those years! So entrenched was she, overloaded with professorship and businesses, she hadn’t stopped to make such basic changes. This stuff was adulting, and being responsible was no fun. 

Whatever. Parvati was being responsible! Tonight, she would finally wipe down every flat surface and counter in her apartment with a soapy towel. It was a cathartic ritual. Any new place she would leave in would need to be hand-scrubbed. Anointed, in a sense. As she acquired the things she needed and started wiping from the counters in the kitchen, her thoughts meandered. So much had happened already at Garreg Mach. She hadn’t yet taken it in. 

First, she had been greeted by Catherine Thunderbrand. She flashed into Parvati’s head: Catherine, at the staircase, returning Parvati’s mock bow — “Ladies first.”  And then there was Shamir Nevrand. 

Hmm, thought Parvati. How astounding. The very first people she met. The Officer’s Academy truly was full of the best of the best, and even amongst the best, she was sent the bestest. 

Parvati smiled. She had had a waiting party. Wow! There was no one awaiting her the last few times she had moved. Granted, this was partially because she no longer had parents. But she didn’t make this a grave concern; she had always had the company of whomever she was currently dating. How better to showcase to her how strong they were, and how helpful, and how organized? 

And how better to bask in her lavished attention? 

But these thoughts left her searching for something throughout her apartment. 

No Randolph. Parvati sighed.

She made quick work of the rest of the kitchen counters and moved on to the dining table. She started to move the bird cage. It rattled horribly as it scraped over the table. Her heart jumped into her throat. She froze, embarrassed, hoping nobody else heard. 

They had, of course. So had the parakeets. They squawked and complained about the night interruption. The cage filled with their wing flaps. Parvati shushed them, and this time, lifted the cage, placing it daintily back down on one of the chairs next to the table. Then she started polishing the table.

Well, what else had happened? She’d met the Viceroy, met the Archbishop. Discovered the Agarthan Museum was delayed. Parvati itched her nose, leaving a series of soap suds on her face as she wondered if it was all right to follow up on next steps… Would it be annoying to Seteth? Was it too early for an update? Or a timeline? Or should she take initiative? Present him some builders…? A niggling feeling was building up in her stomach. Would she just be annoying?

Parvati reprimanded herself. Patience, Parvati, she thought. There was no rush. She was going to be here for — years, ideally — when Seteth renewed her contract. If he renewed her contract. She hoped he would renew her contract. This was a silly time to be worrying about that anyway. The school year hadn’t even started yet! But her heart went back to fluttering with anxiety. 

Seteth was terrifying. She didn’t know why. He was way more terrifying than any of her former bosses, or professors, or the dean. Or, anybody, really. Professor Hanneman was supposed to be good friends with him. She’d better speak to Hanneman, and verify Seteth was just another human being. She was certain Hanneman would reassure her. 

But maybe he would just validate that the Viceroy was intimidating. 

Parvati went back to the kitchen and washed her towel. Gray dust clumps and coiled rings of her long white hair, which were accumulating on the floor already, flushed away in the hot water. She returned to the table and crawled underneath, running the towel above her head on the underside, and up and down each of its legs, thinking. Four high-ranking people. Seteth, Catherine, Lady Rhea and Shamir. All of them terrifying. Well…now, about Catherine, Parvati was starting to have mixed feelings. Shamir, on the other hand… 

Parvati’s hand drifted up to her neck, leaving a line of soap suds where Shamir’s knife had been, thinking. She wouldn’t mind if she never saw Shamir again. 

Parvati wiped the soap suds with her sleeve. Randolph didn’t like Shamir either. Hmm. 

Whatever. And then there was Manuela. A large smile took over Parvati’s face as she clambered out from underneath the table and promptly hit her head.

“Owwww!” she groaned, flapping down onto the ground in unexpected defeat. She mewled.Well, at least Catherine didn’t see this, said a voice in her head. Or Shamir. Or Seteth. Or Manuela. …Thank the gods! She nursed the offended spot on her head, and her dignity, as she continued to make mewling noises in the comfort and privacy of her own apartment.

When she finished licking her wounds, Parvati attended to every inch of every chair, running a new towel up and down cylindrical chair legs and the frame of the chair back, softly humming Manuela’s songs. It was nice to have something her fingers could wrap themselves around. Something solid. Something to hold onto. There wasn’t much she felt she was holding onto right now. 

When all the wiping was done, she turned her attention to Hanneman’s books. This bookshelf…she needed to make space. Because books were holy in the culture of Hinduskar, and thus were not to touch the ground, Parvati stacked his books in the corner over a clean towel. Then, Parvati wiped down the bookshelf as far as she could reach without needing a chair. The chair she would move tomorrow. She didn’t want to make any more scraping noises at this time of night. Not after the bird cage. Dimitri and Dedue would have no problem reaching the top shelves though. 

Parvati paused and frowned. Where in the world had that thought come from? The Prince of Faerghus, wiping her shelf! She returned to the kitchen, shaking her head. What a bizarre, errant thought to have. Though, when she pictured his bright eyes and today’s willingness to help — bringing back her lesson plans, carrying her up the mountain… Parvati blinked. Something told her he wouldn’t mind wiping down some shelves. 

What a goof.

Now that the cold air had freshened the apartment, it felt good to stand at the sink and let her fingers bask in the hot water as she cleaned the towel again. She kept thinking about the Prince.  

Bah. Cute kid. Very earnest, and genuine. And oblivious. And enthusiastic. It seemed Dedue got all of the brains, though. And he watched over Dimitri like a big brother…not just a vassal. She felt a twinge in her heart. It was kind of sweet. If those two were always together, then it meant they were never lonely. 

Parvati cut off the tap water. It was the end of sound. There was a bit of a whistle of the wind outside, and the soft sound of one of the birds snoring but…

No Randolph. 

Parvati sighed. There was that soft ache in her heart she was always shoving away. She was always throwing herself into the cerebral — thoughts, reflections, plans, even worries — to keep the gnawing hole in her heart at bay. Even more so now that she had been sensing something she hadn’t yet put into words: that it was growing. 

So, how did that happen? How did a child of royalty wind up so easy to get along with? She had been so afraid this whole day… But now, now she could think back to what happened and reassess. 

It hadn’t been terrible. He was a pushy little brat, but…but the question remained. How did this child of royalty get along so easily with a commoner like her? She saw in her mind’s eye reading aloud the pamphlet aloud again. He didn’t act like a prince. She’d had a distinct idea of nobles. She’d thought they were all like Duke Aegir. There was a certain protocol, like a dance. Dedue seemed to get it. He understood the protocol. But it seemed Dimitri didn’t. Dimitri pouted at Dedue. And he didn’t always get his way.

“Hmmmmmm,” intoned Parvati aloud. She sighed, wringing water out of the towel and slapping water out for a bit, like her mom used to, before finally putting it to dry along the wall. Prince Dimitri didn’t act like royalty. He acted like a commoner.

She closed the windows again. Time to start unpacking. Time to put things on the walls. She ran Aegir lights all around the living room, annoyed by the puttering nature of the lamps she had lit when she first came in. As her hands rifled through the contents of her suitcase again, her thoughts went back to Aelfric. What happened to him? She knew Catherine said don’t count on him, but… 

Parvati looked at what her hands had landed on. It was the elephant-headed god. The golden miniature looked like it had a ruby studded into its crown. It was a small, cute, almost flat piece, with four arms. Not even as long as her pinky. Well, since she found it, she might as well…

She started to unpack all her deities from her trunk, setting the statues and figurines on the table as she wondered where she’d set the shrine. With every god and goddess she placed upon the table, she would touch their feet with her right hand, asking for their blessings. Then, she would pass that hand up to her forehead and run it up the middle part in her hair. 

This act immediately brought her calm, every single day. She didn’t know why, but thinking about Aelfric had started making her anxious again. Like she had to worry for him. Not about him. For him. She didn’t even know that weirdo.

And for Dedue, said a voice in her head. She was worrying for Dedue. Still worrying. 

Parvati shoved away that line of thoughts as well. She couldn’t handle thinking of him. Not right now. Too many…thoughts. Too many…emotions. Too many…everything. Maybe some other time. Maybe tomorrow. But not right now. Right now, every time Parvati’s thoughts ever came to him, her heart would jump. It would take her a while to realize she wasn’t worrying for him. She was worrying about him. He was so big. He was so scary. He didn’t smile. He barely said anything. 

Did he hate her?

No, you idiot. He even laughed at something you said, said a voice in her head. The voice of reason. 

She couldn’t remember what it was at this point, though, that made him laugh. All that kept coming back to her again and again was: 

But — did he hate her??? 

So now Parvati reached for the elephant-headed god. Ganesh, the God of Trials. Or rather, the God from which to ask for the strength to overcome the trials. She cradled Ganesh in the palm of her right hand and held him close to her heart, silently praying. 

In this year, there would be many trials. She was going to need all the help she could get!


When Dimitri awoke the next morning, it was because of the knocking on his door. This was unusual. The castle attendants knew better than to wake the Prince. Dedue knew better than to wake the Prince. The whole of Fhirdiad, the capitol of Faerghus, knew better than to wake the Prince. The thought was simply outrageous. So when the knocking did not cease, Dimitri turned over in his bed growling, “Not now.”

He had been Actually Sleeping. For Dimitri, Actually Sleeping was a coveted state. It took him hours and days to get there. The journey usually started with staring at his ceiling for forty minutes. Then he would get mad at himself, thinking, he had a very important day tomorrow, and it would be good for him to be rested so he could do well the next day. Then he would start getting even more mad, thinking, if he didn’t perform well the next day, he would wind up back here, lying awake, thinking about what a miserable failure he was the next night too. The fact that he would return to this very same state of self-torture in less than twenty-four hours was unbearable. 

This was usually the time he would start to get hungry. But then he would spend half an hour wondering, should he eat something? But if he got up to eat something, wouldn’t that make him more awake again? But if he didn’t eat, what if he just kept being hungry? Would he be unable to sleep?

Hence, insomniac that he was, if his was ever interrupted, he would come out of Actual Sleep in a murderous rage. The citizens of Fhirdiad had heard many a report about walls being punched into the next room. The Fhirdiad Gazette informed Kingdom citizens that the Prince had been moved to the North Tower in an attempt to curb any further damage. The tower had no adjacent rooms to punch holes into. Or hallways. It was just rooms with a staircase spiraling up. Less collateral damage.

The plan didn’t work though, because then came the Flying Dresser Incident. Two weeks later, the Fhirdiad Gazette informed Kingdom citizens that the North Tower was now a No Fly Zone. Ever since the Prince came out onto his balcony and launched his dresser at a noisy pegasus (and its unfortunate rider), it had been deemed a health risk to exist within that air space. And once the Prince disappeared into the North Tower for the night, the Gazette suggested submitted that the whole world become a No Walk Zone, No Talk Zone, No Make Noise Zone, and No Breathe Zone for all living things within Fhirdiad.

There is, of course, very little truth to this, according to the Royal Administration. After all, His Highness had been removed from the North Tower the moment his security detail’s chief’s wife discovered that the trashy tabloid had, for the first time ever, gotten something right: the location of the Prince’s sleeping quarters.

The Fhirdiad Gazette maintained that it reported true facts by then revealing the shambled remains of the Prince’s dresser. It also immediately mass-printed a detailed list of all its contents, including the number of stripes on each of his undergarments.

The dresser was confiscated.

Needless to say, no one awoke the Prince of Faerghus. Not Dedue. Not his attendants. Not the men of his battalions. Not even his parents when he had them. No one.

So it was a bit of a surprise that someone was still knocking. 

Dimitri pulled the pillow out from under his head, realized he did not recognize this pillow, realized this wasn’t his pillow from Fhirdiad, realized he wasn’t in Fhirdiad — then mashed his face into this hard, new, unnatural bed and wrapped the pillow over his head, pressing them in around his ears. It then occurred to Dimitri that the knocking was coming from outside. Maybe someone hammering something.

Whyyyy… Dimitri thought to himself. 

Whhhhyyyyyy… Dimitri wept in his head.

“WHHHHYYYYYY!!!” Dimitri screamed in his bed. 

The knocking stopped abruptly. Dimitri breathed a sigh of relief. His constricted muscles relaxed and he buried himself deeper into his blue quilt. This dorm room had no curtains, so the quilt was the only thing keeping the blazing light in the windows from landing upon his face. He curled again into the warmth of his bed, filling his blanket cave with his breath to warm it as the cold dawn air was sweeping in —

Why was it so cold in here? 

Dimitri opened his bleary eyes, pulled the quilt under his chin and squinted into the light. There was a girl standing at his window. He blinked a few times, slowly. She still had her face pressed against the window, staring. Dimitri was in no condition to be looked at by girls. He came to the conclusion that he must still be dreaming, turned over and put his pillow back over his face. 

He was hiding. He told himself that he was trying to go back to sleep, but he was hiding. After a couple moments, he looked back again. 

She was still there, a black silhouette against the yellow of the blazing sun, rapping his window. So that’s who it was. Her small, gold hoop earring glinted against her short, dark hair as she was doing something at his window, her tongue sticking out in concentration. She looked into Dimitri’s room, couldn’t see through her own reflection, and brought her face close again. As she did, the golden cuff of a short dreadlock clinked against the window. Then she smiled. 

“Oh! He’s awake!” she called over her shoulder to someone below. Then she turned back to Dimitri. “Finally…”

Dimitri blinked. That wasn’t the voice of a girl. Whoever it was, like a ghost, they started retreated backwards from the window. Dimitri popped up in alarm. They were going to fall off! What were they doing?

They didn’t fall off. Dimitri had forgotten that there was a veranda. It was a veranda-like wooden platform that stretched all the way down the full length of the floor, connecting all of the student dorms on the second floor. There was no railing and Dimitri couldn’t fathom why it was there, but person who had been rapping on his window had stepped into the light on it. 

It was a student, judging by the uniform. He had his hands on his hips and the smile of a rascal. The thick, dark, kinky hair was offset by the blazing yellow House Leader cape flowing off his left shoulder. It lifted lazily in a light breeze.

Dimitri blinked. This was the Golden Deer House Leader. 

That House Leader spoke to him. “Rise and shine, Your Highness! Your public…awaits!” He indicated said imaginary public with a grand wave of his caped arm, then stepped backwards and fell off the ledge.

The Prince sprang out of bed and flew to the window with a strangled yowl, thinking, Did he just — ? Did he just — ?

Ah. The student was fine. He had landed in the arms of a girl with two giant, pink pony tails. She must have been incredibly strong, because the House Leader was lounging in her princess carry and waving back at the Prince. And standing beside them, ready and braced for anything to come flying out of Dimitri’s room, was Dedue. 

Dimitri let out his breath, trying to recover from his minor heart attack. He glared at his vassal and did a hand motion, something that clearly expressed: “What’s this shit?”

Dedue shook his head. 

Then the Golden Deer House Leader started calling. “Come on out, Your Princeliness!” 

Dimitri heard him surprisingly well. It was almost as if the window was open. 

It was. It was ajar. That was how the cold air was coming in. The Golden Deer House Leader had broken into it. 

This was, unbeknownst to Dimitri, the beginning of when the Prince would learn what it meant to Fear the Deer. 

“Well, don’t just stand there! Let’s get breakfast already!” said the pink-haired girl. “I’m hungry!”

“Come on, Baby Blaiddyd!” said the House Leader. “Let’s get to know each other!”

Baby Blaiddyd? thought Dimitri, stunned. The Prince was coming to a horrible realization. All this time, he thought he didn’t sleep. Now he was realizing, if the rest of the students were anything like these two…he would’t sleep for the rest of the school year…

And school hadn’t even begun! 

Chapter 9: The Black Eagle

Summary:

The Officer’s Academy. Some people come to make friends; some people come to make enemies.

Notes:

Announcement: I am making an original fantasy saga based on my original elements in this story, so I will start redacting some parts of some chapters to keep my original pieces, starting after Chapter 15. You can drop me a comment asking for the full versions of the chapters to be added to the list of people to whom I email / Discord the full versions. Email: withpatiencecomespeace @ gmail.com / Discord ( quarantinedExtrovert#3715).

Chapter Text

St. Cichol Inn was becoming a familiar haunt. Dedue, always slowest to eat, was still polishing off his plate when the server took the other students’ plates away. Claude sucked at the last of his magic mocha through a metal straw. He was the only person Dedue had ever seen order more shots of espresso than Dimitri, the insomniac. Said insomniac’s eye twitched at the noise Claude was making. 

Dedue was not concerned. The Prince was behaving himself. This was, after all, what he believed to be his first encounter with the future Archduke of the Alliance. This left Dedue with ample time to attend to his own first encounter with Adrestian food. He had mentioned that he liked eggs, so Hilda suggested he try “Eggs Benedicts.” This sauce was fantastic. Very savory. A bit over-salted was what he had concluded at first, but once the running egg yolk came into play, he realized it resulted in a perfect balance. 

How did they do this to an egg? Hilda said it had been “poached.” Dedue wondered if he could ask the culinary staff to replicate it for him, to teach him how. 

“Poached” sounded dangerous though. Didn’t Rodrigue once punish someone for “poaching” back in Fraldarius, back when Dedue and Dimitri had been with him? Maybe it wasn’t illegal in Adrestia. He’d have to learn how to “poach” before they returned to Faerghus, then. 

There was a clatter across the table. Claude, who had finally decided there was nothing left in his lidded cup but the culinary mage’s ice, hoisted his legs onto the table and scooted across to Dedue and Dimitri. Dedue grabbed for his plate — saved! — as Claude settled on the lip of the table, dropping his feet onto the bench in between the two Faerghusi. The Prince gave Claude a look of alarm as Dedue tried to determine if he would have to drop his plate to protect His Highness. He still had half an egg.

Claude rested his chin in his hand as he leaned towards Dimitri.

“You know,” said the Golden Deer House Leader, “the first part of you I had ever seen — was your butt. I wrote home about it.”

The Prince blinked, confused.

Claude took out a small, round glass lens from his pocket and held it up to his eye. He started extending it towards and away from the Prince, the Prince’s face magnifying and retreating within it, as he said, “It was a nice butt.”

The Prince, turning red-faced, started backing into the corner, to the window. 

Hilda smacked Claude’s arm. “I don’t think he’s as into boys as you and I are.”

Dedue looked up from his plate at Claude, and started drifting in the other direction. He slid down the bench with his plate, abandoning his liege slowly. 

Then Hilda leaned forward across the table to look at what Claude held in his hand. “Wait a minute. Is that Hanneman’s monocle?” she exclaimed. “You — stole from a professor?”

Dimitri and Dedue didn’t have time to react to this statement, for right after she said this, they heard the voice of their server. “Yes, the other Officer’s Academy students would be right this way.”

Beside the server, a tall, emerald-eyed student was surveying them. He stood at alert, with a sword dangling at his hip alongside puffy knee breeches. The curls of his black hair fell over the right half of his face as he regarded the scene with somber eyes. 

He’d come upon a scene with Claude sitting on the table, Hilda leaning over it, both of them crowding someone in the corner. That someone was Dimitri, who looked like he was trying to slide under the table. Meanwhile, Dedue, at the other end of the bench, also looked like he was trying to get away. 

Whatever it was the new student made of this, he decided he wanted no part of it. Without a single word, he turned directly around and exited the establishment. The others watched him go in silence. 

The server sighed once the door closed behind him and said, “You always know when it’s OA kids.” She looked back at them. “Did you need anything else?”

 After she left, Dimitri asked, “Who was that?”

“That was Hubert,” Claude said. 

“The second-in-command?” asked Dedue. 

Claude said yes as Dimitri said, “Second-in-command to what?”

Hilda frowned. “You don’t know? How do you not know? You need to know at least that much.”

She is right, thought Dedue as the Prince started turning red. “Second-in-command to the future Empress,” Dedue explained. “His interests center around strategy and tactics. He likes coffee, irony and intelligence, and dislikes gambling, heights and laziness.”

And the Church of Seiros, but Dedue kept that to himself.

“Then he won’t like me, I guess,” said Hilda. “Wait a minute. How do you know all this?”

“It was in her cards,” Dedue said to the Prince. Dimitri kept frowning, so Dedue added, “Her cards. With Ferdinand’s.”

Now the Prince’s eyes lit with recognition. Dedue was talking about Professor Parvati’s note cards, the ones they had discovered in the greenhouse. There had been a few of them — and Dimitri had had his own card. It was blank.

Hilda appraised him as she said, “I still don’t know what you mean, but — you just — had all of that memorized?”

The others looked at him. Dedue deflected, putting the entirety of the rest of his breakfast into his mouth to avoid responding. The fact of the matter was, Hubert’s card had been easy to memorize. Hubert became a particular interest the moment Dedue read strategy and tactics research. It meant, should the Kingdom of Faerghus ever come head-to-head with the Adrestian Empire, there was a good chance Hubert would be their tactician. Of course Dedue would pay attention to him. 

So that was the Black Eagles second-in-command. Without a word, in ten seconds alone, Hubert made clear to everyone how little nonsense he would brook. Dedue usually made his judgments slowly, gathering a formidable amount of evidence about a person’s character before coming to a conclusion regarding how he felt about them. He came to conclusions that, once made, were generally right — and permanent. But with Hubert, Dedue felt he could work with gut instinct alone.

Hubert was someone to be wary of. Permanently. 

Claude looked from Dedue to Dimitri. “What cards? Whose cards?” he asked.

“I am not sure you would know of her, but, Professor Parvati’s,” Dimitri revealed. 

Hilda and Claude looked at each other. “The math professor?” Hilda asked.

Dimitri started. “Oh! You know her?”

A sense of unease rolled through Dedue. The cards could have been a secret for just the Prince and him. Why did His Highness have to answer? Dedue didn’t want to cause the professor trouble. He knew she was already going to face enough. But if the rest of the students heard of this…

Hilda went right for it. “Why would a math professor have notes like that about her students?”

Dimitri blinked. Dedue realized, Hilda was incredibly sharp. She always seemed to be asking the best questions…and in this case, the best questions were also the worst.

Claude, beside her, was looking at something at the inn’s entrance. He leaned backwards over the table to grab his yellow jacket as he said, “It’s a good question. Perhaps we should ask her ourselves.”

There, standing at the counter, was the professor herself. She was looking cross, dropping coins onto the counter with a clatter. “Keep the change,” they heard her snap. She whirled on her heel and signed off an Adrestian, two-fingered salute over her shoulder as she left.  

“Come on, Hilda!” said Claude, clambering off the table and rushing away. 

“Oh, you go on ahead,” said Hilda with a lazy wave. Then something occurred to her. She looked at Dimitri. “You’re a Prince,” she said to him.

“I am,” he said, getting wary.

“Then I’m guessing — you’ll pick up the tab, won’t you?”

Dimitri blinked. “I — what? Why? Why would you — ?”

“Thanks! You’re a love!” she said, suddenly clearing out of the enclave and sprinting out as well.

“Wait! What!”

Dedue and Dimitri stared after her. Then Dedue announced, “We’ve been had.”


Claude had waylaid the professor. Thanks to his yellow jacket, picking them out of the crowd was easy. Hilda tracked them down to the street corner, where Claude stood with his hands interlaced behind his head, his elbows out and open in his classic casual stance as he conversed with the Professor Parvati. He winked at Hilda as she approached, just like the first time they had ever met.

The professor was putting a loaded quill and notebook away. She turned to Hilda when Hilda joined them and said, “What are you wearing?”

Hilda looked down. She was wearing her uniform. 

Then the professor said, “Correction: what are you not wearing? Where is your jacket?”

“Oh,” said Hilda. “Well, I grew up in the mountains. This is a pretty warm day.”

“Nonsense. Look at him. He’s freezing.”

Claude was bundled in a yellow jacket so puffy, it was almost round, with just his head poking out. Where did he even go to make this purchase? And to top it all off — literally — he had on so many scarves, his head looked like an egg inside a colorful nest. To be honest, Hilda found it embarrassing to be walking around with him. This was spring-time, not even winter, and he was hugely overdoing it. 

Which was why it was especially maddening when Professor Parvati said, “You’re not wearing an overcoat, a cape, not even a second layer. What about the wind on the switchbacks, when you head back up?”

Ugh, thought Hilda. School hadn’t even started yet and this professor was already lecturing. 

“Look,” said Professor Parvati, “just get yourself a nice jacket you can make a fashion statement. Anything will look cute on you.”

Claude grinned at Hilda. “She’s right.”

“I don’t know,” said Hilda. “Not even I can pull that off,” she said, pointing to his jacket.

Claude laughed. “Aww, don’t feel bad about it, Hilda! This style’s not for everybody.”

Hilda rolled her eyes as the professor smiled. “Well, I’m gonna go,” Professor Parvati said. “Bye now. Catch a man, don’t catch a cold.”

Claude and Hilda started, staring after the professor as she crossed north. Claude started laughing again. He elbowed his second-in-command as he parroted the professor’s words of wisdom. “Yeah, Hilda. Catch a man, don’t catch a cold.”

“Shut up, Claude. I already caught you today.”

“Touché.”

“Hey! Professor!” someone called from behind them. 

“Uh oh,” whispered Hilda as the two saw Dimitri and Dedue were sprinting towards them.

“Let’s go, before he asks us to pay,” said Claude. 

The two shuffled the other way down the intersection, where they ran into the professor again. 

“Oh,” said Hilda.

Professor Parvati blinked. “I was — going in the wrong direction.”

“Professor!” the Prince called again. 

All three of them winced. It was too rude for any one of them to start walking off again, so they all stood there awkwardly as the two Faerghusi crossed the street.

Dimitri paused to give Claude and Hilda a glare, before saying, “What were you doing at the Inn today, Professor? Were you meeting with Sushant again?” 

Professor Parvati’s eyes widened. “W-What? No! Eww, don’t make it sound like — ” She cleared her throat. 

“Who’s Sushant?” asked Claude.

Professor Parvati directed the answer to the Prince. “He’s just my childhood friend, okay? Don’t make it sound any different.”

Dimitri blinked. “I didn’t mean it to sound any different.”

The professor regained her composure. “He left, anyway. No, I didn’t come down for him.”

Hilda pulled at one of Claude’s puffy sleeves, motioning discreetly that this could be a good time to get away. But Claude made no moves to come away, to her exasperation. That guy just wanted to know everything about everything. Why did she get stuck with House Leader this nosy? Being with him was a lot of work. She started reassessing how much she should hang out with him.

Then Prince Dimitri said, “Then why did you come back, Professor? How are you going to get back up? Are you going to need me to carry you again?”

Claude glanced at Hilda. Hilda said, “What?” Dedue facepalmed behind the Prince.

Professor Parvati flushed heavily. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I will get back on my own!”

Well, they seem close, thought Hilda. The professor had originally seemed cool as a cucumber, but the Prince of Faerghus seemed to have a talent of making the professor lose her cool quick. 

“Look. I’m not entirely sure I know what you’re talking about,” said Hilda, “but if you’re talking about the trip back to the Monastery, there’s a hayride wagon that goes up every hour, on the hour.”

Dedue, Dimitri and Professor Parvati looked at her for a moment. Hilda didn’t know it, but she had made them feel instantly dumb. 

“If we don’t start heading over there now,” Hilda added, “we’re going to miss the next wagon. And then we’ll be stuck here for lunch as well.”

“Well then, let’s get going!” said Claude, fluttering around the group and herding them forward like sheep. Hilda knew what he was doing. If he could get them onto the hayride wagon, he’d have everybody trapped in one place while he badgered them with questions. 

The professor shook her head. “We part ways here, kids. I’ve got work to do.”

Claude asked, “What work?”

“Scoping out this inn’s competitors.”

The students looked back at St. Cichol Inn. Claude said, “Why?”

Professor Parvati rolled her eyes. “I’ll show you when it happens. Just go already.”

And with that, they followed Hilda’s lead. 


Hilda didn’t expect the hayride wagon to be packed when they arrived. It was fifteen feet long with stacks of hay in a rectangle along the perimeter, and it was absolutely brimming with over a dozen women in the light gray nuns’ habits and white hoods. 

“Oh, no,” Hilda groaned as the sisters started leaning over the railings to point at them.

“Look!” they were saying. “Look at the children!” They knew Officer’s Academy students when they spotted them, and their voices swelled with excitement as they stood. They started rearranging themselves, squeezing tightly against each other to make enough space. Hilda climbed up the wooden steps and took the corner spot at the front of the wagon. She wanted to put some space between her and all the other ladies. It was a little too much religion for her comfort level. 

Dedue took a seat beside her. Claude and Prince Dimitri sat directly across from them, and a young, scruffy boy yelled, “All aboooooard!” as he closed the rope gateway onto the hayride wagon behind them. He scrambled to the front, where his older brother applied the riding crop at the pair of horses.   

“This’ll be fun,” Claude said as the wagon started moving.

“Are you coming to the Choir Festival?” asked one bright-eyed sister from the middle of the wagon.

“Choir Festival?” asked Prince Dimitri.  

“The Choir Festival!” The woman introduced herself as Serra and explained that she and the other sisters had just finished acquiring all the ingredients for the massive feast that happened afterwards. Sure enough, the entire center aisle stretching all the way to the back was completely loaded with sacks and crates full of meats and fruits and vegetables and oils. Glass containers clinked lightly against each other as the wagon rocked up the dirt road. 

Before long, Claude was asking more questions. He asked what other exciting events usually happened at the monastery. The sisters answered with gusto. There were Choir Festivals, Hunting Festivals, Harvest Festivals, Fish Bounty Festivals. Seeing the House Leader capes on Claude and Prince Dimitri, the sisters realized they were looking at the heirs of two of the nations. They added the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus Founding Day and the Alliance Celebration to the list as well. And of course, the birthdays of the Four Saints.

“I didn’t know monasteries could be so exciting!” Claude said to the Prince, looking baffled. Prince Dimitri shrugged.

It was all old news to Hilda, of course. Her older brother Holst had been here already, to the Officer’s Academy, and she herself had already come to Garreg Mach to see the most important events. She hadn’t been here for the Alliance Celebration, of course. No one in the Alliance celebrated the Alliance Celebration harder than Goneril territory, who protected Fódlan’s Locket. Or drank more, ever.

The sisters went on to mention, biggest of all, were the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth in July, and the Garreg Mach Establishment Day in December. “That’s when they have the Ball,” someone added.

Claude plopped forward. “Ball, did you say?” 

Hilda laughed. She’d had the perfect vantage point to see Prince Dimitri looking distraught. 

“They also have White Heron Cup!” said another sister. “One of you students will represent your House for this dance competition!” 

Claude turned to the Prince. “You are dancing in this competition,” he declared. 

The Prince face took on a look of unbridled horror as he snapped back, “No.”

The sisters tittered as they regarded the students. “They’re going to look so cute in their formalwear!” “Those boys will look dashing.” “Watching them dance is so much fun!” “Do you mean watching them step on those poor girls’ toes?”

Dedue, beside Hilda, was making a “Hmmm” of discomfort. She could feel the reverberations more than hear it. Hilda chuckled. She loved dancing, so she looked forward to the ball. She leaned back against the three rails on the side of the wagon, enjoying a breeze as the wagon turned along the hairpin turn of one of the switchbacks. She had already chosen out what she was going to wear. But who would she go with? She wondered if, in the next nine months, she would find someone worthy…and if that somebody was here already, one of these boys. They weren’t bad to look at, honestly…was what she was thinking when she heard what was perhaps the most important thing she had ever heard in all her times at Garreg Mach. 

She plopped forward. “Boy band?” asked Hilda. 

“Boy band?” said Claude, also leaning forward.

“Boy band!” said Serra. “This year we are hosting a boy band at the Ball! Connections from the opera singer!”

Claude and Hilda exchanged glances, eyes wide with excitement. 

“I came the right year!” said Claude.

“Me as well!” said Hilda.

And then there was a thump. Something had collided into the wagon. The passengers looked about. Then Hilda saw Claude and Prince Dimitri’s eyes grow wide. Something was rising directly behind Hilda. 

Hilda didn’t have to turn around to know what it was. It was that Adrestian mage boy, Hubert. Hilda could just feel the dark magic oozing off of him. She had wondered about it back at the inn, when she’d felt it first. She had wondered then, was he just sloppy? Subconsciously leaking? Unable to contain it? It was in this moment she realized, this wasn’t so.

With one leg braced against the back of the drivers’ seats to keep him steady, Hubert stood on the rails and rose out over everyone at the front-right corner of the wagon with his arms crossed. His one green eye roved the entire way down the wagon.

“Hubert!” said Prince Dimitri.

Hubert cocked a brow at him, taking a moment to identify him. “Ah. Your Highness. So we meet at last. Claude, Prince Dimitri,” he said with a bow. He rose back up as he said, “I am Hubert von Vestra.”

The name had immediate impact. Holst had told her about the Vestras. They were the Adrestian emperor’s “guardians in the shadows,” known for their “information agency” and “a penchant for cleaning house.” 

Hilda looked at his hands. Just as she expected, they were gloved. Why do the Vestras wear gloves? the joke went. So they don’t get their hands dirty. 

Clearly, this was not a joke.   

His dark magic aura was intensifying. Hilda tried not to breathe it in.

Hubert went on. "Welcome to Garreg Mach. While we may be labeled something juvenile like students, it will be good for you to remember that we are not just going to school. I didn’t come here to study history or mathematics.” The Black Eagles second-in-command regarded them. “I’ve come here to assess you, future Archduke and King,” he smirked, “as will every other student. I promise you, the exams you’ll be tasked with by the professors…are going to be nothing like the tests I will put you through, to determine if you are worth anything. Be it politics or the battlefield, the Adrestian Empire will erase you if you cannot withstand our might. So I suggest you don’t take this year lightly, nor any one of the Black Eagles.”

Hilda shifted away from him. It was a conscious maneuver by him: his aura had turned into an undeniable heat, and it was making everyone uncomfortable. How rude!

Claude whistled. “Nice to meet you too, Hubert.”

Prince Dimitri had settled on glaring at Hubert wordlessly.

“You seem to have forgotten somebody,” said Claude, pointing. “This is Hilda, my second-in-command. You seem to be frying her, and I’d like you to stop.”

Hubert looked down at her. 

Hilda snapped, “You’re frizzling my hair! I’m going to have to axe you for it.”

He smirked. 

“And this is Dedue,” said the Prince. 

“Your pehelwan from Duscur,” said the dark mage. “I know.” 

Dedue and Dimitri stared up at him. 

Hubert said, “I know everything.”

Hah! He really likes to play his part, thought Hilda. Then she asked, “What does it mean, pehelwan?”

“A bodybuilder, wrestler,” said Dedue.

“A grappler,” said Claude. 

Hilda looked at Claude. “How do you know?”

Claude winked back. “Don’t you worry about how I know.”

Hubert chuckled. He came down close to Hilda, balancing atop the railing on his haunches, as he said to them, “I’ll see you at the monastery…whether or not you see me.” And then, he launched himself off of the wagon and into the air, towards the monastery, and in a burst of feathers, turned into a black eagle.

The sisters cried out. Hilda turned in her seat and put a hand over her eyes to block the sun as she watched the eagle take to the thermals. “He’s that advanced as a dark mage already?”

Dedue had come out of his seat and onto his feet, saying, “How am I going to fight something like that?”

“With an arrow, of course,” said Claude. The others looked at Claude. He shrugged, looking unperturbed.

Dimitri watched the black form of the eagle become one with the shadow of the monastery as he said, “He’s got a direct flight to the top…while we get stuck behind, here. We’re wasting time going back and forth.”

“But my arrows won’t,” said Claude.

Dimitri raised a brow at him. Claude put an arm behind Dimitri as he said, “Don’t worry, Baby Blaiddyd. If we ever go up against him…I’ll take care of him.”

The Prince gave a smile at his gall. He said, “I’ll count on it.” He then redirected his eyes to the monastery and muttered, “Not a school, did he say?” 

The other students followed suit, looking up to the top of the mountain, where Garreg Mach rose like a lumbering giant. In a year, their roles would switch. It would be the Blue Lions and the Golden Deer looking down from its towers then, and it would be the Imperial Army marching up the switchbacks. Even then, they would be searching, scanning for a Vestra amongst the ranks, searching for the black bird in the shadow. 

When they found him, it would be too late. 

Chapter 10: Not Dead Yet

Summary:

The Prince of Faerghus recalls something crucial that the professor let slip—something that could change his life forever.

Chapter Text

The training grounds. This was where Dimitri was comfortable. It was a hundred-by-hundred-feet arena of packed-dirt flooring. A set of six steps rose out in a square ring from the battleground, then expanded out into amphitheater seating under open-air ceiling. When it rained or snowed or was too cold, the magic dome shimmered and activated, the way it was shimmering now. Dimitri’s eyes fell away from it when he heard the clatter.

At the other end of the training grounds, Claude and Hilda were still arguing at the weapons racks. The Prince sent Dedue a glance, getting exasperated. He and Dedue had always started every morning with a sword and a lance in hand, ramming at each other with either the first of the morning’s energies — for Dedue — or the frustration of yet another restless night — for Dimitri. Hence, brunch with the Golden Deer had thrown both of them off-kilter. Dimitri’s day would not be set right until he got to some training. 

Even more so after Hubert happened…

Dimitri’s hands twitched at the hilt of his sword. He swung it in a smooth arc to center himself, getting impatient. Claude had overheard Dimitri’s plan to reset himself at the training grounds and said, “Well, this should be interesting.” Then he tagged along, literally dragging in Hilda by the arm. By now, those two had spent a full fifteen minutes arguing vehemently about something at the weapons rack. 

Dimitri and Dedue could have ignored them and simply started their training. But they didn’t; they were too polite. 

Finally, the two Golden Deer started making their way to the center of the training grounds.

Dimitri brightened, saying, “At last!” He sprang forward to meet them. “I am afraid I am not much fun at a dining table, but here?” He brandished his sword. “This is where we get to know each other!”

“Pipe down!” said Hilda, rolling her eyes.  “Look, I’m just here to work off waffles. I’m going to the sauna as soon as I’m done.”

Claude said, “I’ll go into the sauna with you.”

“Stop talking, Claude. You’re giving them the wrong idea.”

Dimitri blinked. “Ah…very well.” He didn’t know what to say, so he looked to Dedue. 

Dedue joined them at the center with his lance and said, “Prepare yourselves.”

“Get into the frontlines, Claude!” said Hilda.

Claude started. “I can’t go to the frontline. I’m an archer!” 

“Well, I can’t go into the frontline.” Hilda put a hand tip her hip. “I’m more of a backline person. Or even better, a not-even-at-the-battle-at-all. That’s my preferred choice.”

“Hilda, that’s not even a word. You can’t be a ‘backline’ person. Besides, you’re carrying an axe.”

“Well, I can throw it.”

“Hilda. Even I don’t believe you can throw that axe and hit one of them.”

Dimitri gave a cry of shock. He’d been so wrapped up in what they were saying, he hadn’t realized what Hilda had brought into battle. His eyes darted back to the weapons racks. He was right. Out of all the swords, lances, javelins, spears, maces, halberds, gauntlets and axes available, Hilda had dragged out the biggest, the heaviest axe to the center of the training grounds. Dimitri hadn’t noticed it because, it being so heavy, Hilda had dragged it behind her. Now, however, Dimitri could now see the veritable gouge she had left behind, starting at the far end of the training ground and ending at the axe head by her foot. The head of the axe rose up higher than her waist. 

Dimitri reassessed Hilda’s form. Was she going to be able to pick that up?

That was, of course, the moment she decided to lift up the axe with one hand and rest it over her shoulder. “I said I could throw it. I didn’t say accurately. Sheesh. Lower your expectations.”

The irony in her words was a punch to Dimitri’s stomach. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Dedue shift his stance. Even his vassal had been affected by her casual display of strength. No wonder Claude felt so completely at ease falling into her arms.

Claude could see Dedue bracing to begin the attack. He twirled an arrow out of his satchel as he backed away, raising his bow as he said, “If we’re both going to be backline, I don’t have any expectations.”

“That’s enough talk,” said Dedue, lunging towards the archer.

Hilda’s axe got to him first. She intercepted him, catching him at the torso with the flat of her blade. Then, with a dancing twirl, she spun around, gathered momentum, and batted the axe upwards, throwing Dedue clear across the battlefield towards the weapons racks behind her. 

In one fluid move, she had split the Blue Lions. Dimitri’s jaw dropped.

“Oh how sweet of you, Hilda!” Claude called. “That was very gentle.”

It was only gentle because Dedue landed on his feet. He’d dug trenches into the dirt slowing himself with both hands. He had to stop himself before he was forced to touch the steps that bordered the training grounds. If he had touched them, he was out — and without a single blow landed. 

Almost out this early? The Blue Lions hadn’t even begun!

But Dedue didn’t have time to think. Claude’s bow had come trained in his direction.

“Well, that was a graceful landing,” said Hilda. 

To her surprise, Dimitri gave a tittering laugh. She had no idea that Dedue was used to this. Dimitri didn’t often get to use the power of his Crest, but of all the people he sparred, Dedue was the one who most often faced the uber Blaiddyd strength. Dedue was more than advanced at landing on his feet after being tossed over seventy feet.

 

With a sudden spike of anticipation, Dimitri activated his Crest. He never got to exercise his full power anywhere. He hadn’t considered ever truly getting to utilize it outside of deadly warfare. But now…at the Officer’s Academy… 

It was dawning upon him. He had found his equals. 

He enjoyed the taste of his words as he said, “Lady Goneril. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

And then he charged.


The flash of cold water was a shock after training. It always was. It was a ritual the Prince intended to maintain, despite the fact that he was at Garreg Mach, where the showers were rumored to be able to supply an unending stream of hot water for as long as he turned the dial to it.

Dimitri did not turn it. It was as Rodrigue had warned — he would be ruined. There would be no hot showers when he returned to Fhirdiad, no warm baths when he marched out to battles. And nothing less than ice water could deliver the kind of shock Dimitri needed to come awake. His morning regimen may pump oxygen into his blood, but it was this shock of cold water that brought his mind awake. His thoughts were always fresh in the shower. And it was as icy tendrils washed through his hair and dribbled down his chin that he started thinking. 

The Blue Lions did not win the battle today. 

Dedue had taken it personally. 

Of course, to Claude and Hilda, he was nothing but kind. But after those two departed in search of the sauna, Dedue agonized the loss with the Prince. 

“I’d gotten hasty,” said Dedue. “My role is defender, not attacker. I had gotten impatient.” 

Dedue had been the first one taken out of battle. It was exactly in the way he had imagined. He had fallen into what, as a chess move, would have been a ladder checkmate; he was driven down the side of the training ground dodging Claude’s impossibly quick barrage of arrows — until the Golden Deer House Leader simply drove him out at the corner… 

Leaving the Prince of Faerghus open and completely alone in the center of the battleground. 

Hilda and Claude had finished him quick. 

“I shouldn’t have let that happen,” said Dedue. “I have let you down, Your Highness.”

Dimitri had simply laughed back then, his blood singing with adrenaline. He was so exhilarated. He told Dedue he didn’t mind losing. It was refreshing. They had the whole year to best Claude and Hilda. Was Dedue not enthralled, even a little bit?

Dedue shook his head. He insisted the Prince be more serious. 

“Oh, very well, then,” Dimitri humored him. “If it hadn’t been you, it would have been me. I, too, was getting impatient.” He put a hand on his chin as he imagined it, admitting that Hilda would have caught him in the same way and tossed him aside. “Except,” said Dimitri, “I most likely would not have landed on my feet. I do not have that practiced like you. And, since I am lighter, I would have been tossed farther. I may even have landed inside the weapons rack, impaled embarrassingly by a load of weapons that were not even attacking me. That would have been a bad way to go.”

Dedue had stared at him. The line of thought Dimitri had started as a joke had come to a gruesome finish. Dimitri cursed himself when he realized he’d just added a new avenue for Dedue to start worrying. How infuriating.  

Now, however, Dimitri’s laughter echoed in the communal shower as he recalled all this. He was in the men’s communal shower of the second floor of the dorms. And for now, it was just him. Dedue was downstairs, in the first floor showers. He needed to be alone to be angry at himself. Dimitri shook his head. 

“Oh!” said a voice. 

Dimitri turned. It was Ashe, the gray-haired boy with freckles who would one day become the Prince’s deadeye archer. But right now, he was just a kid who stammered, “Y-Your Highness! I — I will be back! — L-L-Later, of course!” Ashe flew back out the doorway, to the changing room, where Dimitri had left most of his clothes.

The Prince frowned. Huh. Who was that? he wondered. Whoever it was, he was going to have to get used to the public showers, or he wouldn’t be cleaning himself at the Academy very often. Dimitri shuddered. He’d had the displeasure of learning there were Faerghusi soldiers like that in his own battalion. The Prince put a quick end to that. 

He came out of the showers and into the changing room still thinking about the bout with Claude and Hilda. He had told Dedue that they had a year to defeat Claude and Hilda, but, now Hubert’s face flash into his mind.

Be it politics or the battlefield, the Adrestian Empire will erase you if you cannot withstand our might. That’s what Hubert had said. If Dimitri and Dedue wanted to defeat the Adrestians, they’d have to be able to handle Claude and Hilda as well. 

Dimitri tossed the towel he had dried his hair with into an awaiting cart. He found what must have been the other boy’s towel, hanging off a hook. Folded neatly into the wooden cubby beside that was a pile of clothes, of which the top was a pullover. It had a sigil: the sigil of Gaspard. 

Dimitri frowned. Gaspard? That was the sigil on the room next to Dedue’s. So that kid was a Blue Lion. But why did he come upstairs?     

(It was because Ashe had already gone to the downstairs communal showers. There, he had encountered a hulking, brooding Dedue. He sprang out of there too, terrified, and had come upstairs — only to be even more traumatized. Ashe had wound up unexpectedly meeting his liege lord. For the very first time. While mostly naked. It was straight out of a nightmare for the poor boy.)

Dimitri shrugged, searching for a soothing balm for the new bruises along his arms and his stomach, and the lotion. There was a basket of some kind of ointments and jars at one end, but fully half were written in Almyran lettering. Cheap knockoffs at Garreg Mach Monastery? the Prince thought, surprised. 

I’ve come here to assess you, future Archduke and King — as will every other student. Hubert’s drawl rang again in Dimitri’s head. Now it occurred to Dimitri: was that what Claude and Hilda were doing? That one bout of training, that brunch? Claude kept saying, Let’s get to know each other. Had Claude already started assessing him, even before Hubert had mentioned…?

No, thought Dimitri, shaking his head. He was not about to start the year off being paranoid. 

But try as he might, he could no longer get that line of thought out of his head. By the time he had dressed and returned to his room to pick up the blue cape and the belt with his sword, he’d come to realize something more startling. All the combat professors at the Officer’s Academy were Adrestian. Hanneman, Manuela, even Aelfric judging by that brown hair. If Dimitri ever did come to war against Adrestians, did that mean he would have to fight the three of them? And in any case, why were all the combat professors Adrestian? 

Dimitri spent the great portion of the rest of the day with Dedue, wandering the campus but living inside his head. They discovered the Knight’s Hall. They explored the library. They assessed the stables. They attended to their horses. Throughout all of this, they did not talk. Their time was always spent this way. They did not talk much because they did not have much to say. Whereas the Golden Deer commander and sub-commander seemed to spend an extraordinary amount of time arguing with each other, Dedue and Dimitri already knew most everything about each other. They always knew what the other was thinking. 

After dinner, Dimitri was following Dedue back to the greenhouse again. They were starting to see other students. They passed a trio chattering as they walked through the courtyards. 

“That food was a revelation!” said the blonde-haired boy following the two girls.

“No, it wasn’t! There were way too many vegetables in today’s meal,” responded one of the girls. “The ratio of vegetables to sweets was completely skewed… Everyone knows a plateful of sweets is far preferred to a plateful of vegetables, regardless of age.”

The trio looked at Dedue and Dimitri and shifted to the other side of the courtyard to let them pass. The boy gave an amiable nod as the orange-haired girl added, “Whatever's served, I'll eat. No complaints.”

Their conversation suddenly dropped in volume. Dimitri knew what was happening. This was the part where one of them whispered to the other, “I think that was the Prince!” And someone else would respond, “It was?” Then all three of them would turn around, and align themselves behind the nearest set of hedges or trees or gates or building corners. Then they would peek out at Dedue and the Prince, and Dimitri would continue to feel their eyes following him for a half hour, even after he knew the people he had so excited had moved on with their lives already.

Dimitri sighed. He hoped, perhaps here, he could make friends. More friends. Not just more friends. Many friends. Perhaps he’d started — with Claude and Hilda. This cheered him. It was tiring, to only be liege lord to everybody. To be held an arm’s length away. To be a cause of excitement only in conversations people had with other people, for too few dared to say more than two words with him. And those two words were often entirely: “Your Highness.” Even Dedue often held him at arm’s length with that phrase. He hated that phrase: “Your Highness.”

“They were from the Alliance,” Dedue said. 

Dimitri asked, “How do you know?”

“Their accents,” Dedue said, entering the greenhouse. “Their accents sounded like Hilda’s.”

Dimitri smiled. Dedue was starting to master Angrais well enough to be able to differentiate accents. He himself had not been paying attention. “So we’ve seen five of the Golden Deer, out of eight no. And only one Black Eagle?”

“There is another one already on campus,” said Dedue. He told the Prince her name was Bernadetta, and it was rumored that once she had entered her room, she had not come out once.

“That can’t be true,” said Dimitri. “She had to go to the bathroom.”

Dedue looked at Dimitri and shrugged. “So I was told by Hilda.”

The two resettled into silence as Dedue took mental inventory of the full contents of the greenhouse. Dimitri leaned against the door, arms crossed and eyes closed as he rested. His thoughts returned to Hubert again. It was starting to incense him, how many times he had returned to that dark mage’s words today. Hubert had said this was not a school. He’s right, Dimitri thought, privately infuriated. Though everyone could choose to call themselves a student, they all had allegiances first and foremost. Be it to the Church, the Alliance, the Kingdom or the Empire, they were countrymen before they were students. The Golden Deer had the Alliance. The Blue Lions had the Kingdom. The Black Eagles were of the Empire. The Church had their Knights of Seiros. Everyone who didn’t pick a side would be — 

Collateral damage.

Dimitri opened his eyes. Why did he think this? It was not like him to think that way. Why those particular words?

Then he remembered: Professor Parvati. Professor Parvati had used those words just twenty-four hours ago. So much had happened. How could it only have been twenty-four hours back? 

Do you know what we are? she had said back then. Collateral damage. We weren’t even part of the game.

He got goosebumps simply remembering it. 

The truth doesn’t matter, Prince Dimitri. Prove me otherwise.

These words. He didn’t know what to do with this statement. 

But then his eyes widened. He had realized something. He checked inside the greenhouse, to see if the three women who had been inside were still there. In the time he had closed his eyes and fallen halfway into a thinking sleep against the doorway, everyone else had left the greenhouse. Only Dedue remained.

The Prince approached him where he was now examining three giant drums full of different types of fertilizer. Dedue was consulting a book that was tied by a cord to a hook on the wall.

“Dedue,” said Dimitri.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Parvati knows something.”

“What?”

“Professor Parvati knows something.”

Dedue looked up from the book. It was an encyclopedia of Fódlan’s flowers. Though he didn’t like it, Dedue was, surprisingly, reading Angrais. 

Dimitri then explained, “She knows something, about the Tragedy of Duscur.”

Dedue looked immediately to the doorway. Then he scanned the greenhouse, his eyes landing on open windows before returning to the Prince. Then he said, “Not here, Your Highness.” 

Dimitri felt sorry for taking Dedue out of the greenhouse. He knew being surrounded by greenery and flowers was what made Dedue feel safe, to be able to breathe easy. It reminded him of Duscur, which was full of green jungles, not the barren snow wasteland of Faerghus. But Dedue would not let Dimitri say another word until he found a suitable place. 

They were traversing the campus as Dimitri asked, “Why not our rooms?”

Dedue said, “The walls are too thin. There might be holes. I have not yet evaluated them. We do not know.” Then, Dedue revealed the true reason: “Claude.”

Dimitri looked at him. 

“He broke into your quarters. If it had been that easy…”

Dimitri was quiet for a long time.

When they finally found a room Dedue found acceptable, Dimitri examined it. “Why have you chosen this one?” he asked. Dedue had chosen a chemistry lab. Outside, the placard declared Hanneman. Just as Professor Parvati was to teach multiple classes of Mathematics and Ancient Technology, Professor Hanneman was to teach Chemistry, Reason Magic and Equestrian Riding.

Dedue followed the Prince into the room and pointed at things as he explained. “The walls here are thick. There is a sheer drop outside the windows. The windows are closed. It is unlikely anyone will hear us from outside. The hallways echo. We will hear anyone approaching, from a distance. The room has two doors. That one leads to an equipment closet. The other one we just came through.” When Dedue saw the Prince overwhelmed by the barrage response, Dedue summarized: “It’s a controlled environment.” 

Dimitri blinked, nodding.

Dedue closed the entrance to the lab and told the Prince to wait as he checked that there was no one in the equipment closet. When he returned, he found the Prince at one of the tables, looking at all the instruments. Tubes and flasks, wooden tube racks, mortar and pestles, metal tongs, funnels. There was one glass instrument that looked like a ball. When Dimitri looked through the ball at Dedue, Dedue reflected upside down in it. Dimitri cried out, and leaned closer to examine it.

Then, Dedue said, “Your Highness. You were saying…”

Dimitri pulled away from the upside-down visage of Dedue and started again. “Professor Parvati. About the Tragedy. She knows.”

“Everyone knows about the Tragedy…”

Dimitri shook his head. “No. There are things about the Tragedy almost no one knows…but she knows them. Do you remember what she said?”

Dedue needed to be reminded. 

Dimitri said, “She said she was a woman of science. That she relied on facts and evidence. Do you recall? She said she’d conducted an investigation.”

Dedue’s eyes widened. 

Dimitri continued. “She said that there were no Duscuri there. How did she know?”

The Prince could see Dedue was thinking as well. Then Dedue’s eyes focused on the Prince. He said, “Your Highness, we do not know this. We do not know what she investigated. We do not know how plausible it could have been. We do not even know if an investigation even occurred.”

It felt like a gut-punch to hear Dedue, of all people, saying this. Dimitri glared at him, frustration fueling his anger into a tower. “Dedue. How can you — even — imagine — ”

“I have to, because you won’t,” Dedue responded. In Dedue’s eyes now, there was a fire. Dedue was getting angry as well. 

“But she is your countryman — ” 

“I am doing what I must — for you are fast to become blind with emotions.”  

The Prince was rendered speechless, so astounded was he at this response. “You’re being ridiculous!” 

He couldn’t believe it. Dedue was supposed to be on his side. How could he be having to fight Dedue about this? 

He said, “Dedue. Don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to know why all of this had to happen to your family? Why Duscur has been wiped out? Why they won’t print it on a map?”

Dedue, who had been opening his mouth to say something, now shut ith. They were quiet for a long time. 

Finally, Dimitri took in a deep breath. “Okay. Fine,” he admitted. “Your concern is that we do not know if an investigation truly happened. Nor if it was accurate. Very well. But those questions are easily remedied. We just ask Professor Parvati.”

Dedue’s brows rose up in alarm.

“Well?” said Dimitri. “I can hold back my emotion. I can hold back my hopes — that — perhaps the professor has the answers. But there is no better way than simply asking her, is there?”

Dedue kept looking for another way. When he surrendered at last, he said, “She won’t be happy about it.”

“She won’t.”

Dedue looked back at the lab equipment. “If the professor truly conducted an investigation, she must have worked with other people. She could not have been the only one.”

Dimitri cocked his head. “How do you come to that conclusion?”

Dedue hesitated. 

Dimitri was surprised. He waited. Dedue had never hesitated before. 

When Dedue finally started speaking, he revealed, “It is something I had gathered from something Sushant had said.”

“You mean, in Bangala?”

Dedue nodded. “He said Professor Parvati has not been to Duscur in thirteen years.”

Dimitri frowned. “Thirteen years? That means she couldn’t have been…”

Dedue nodded. “Not there in person. She hadn’t even returned for her own parents’ funeral.” Dedue gave Dimitri a meaningful look. 

Dimitri’s eyes widened. “You mean…her parents…?”

Dedue nodded. “The professor’s parents died in the pogroms.” 

Dimitri took it in. Then he said, “So that was what she was doing…”

“What?” asked Dedue.

Dimitri started to pull test tubes out of the wooden rack and shift them one row over. It was something for his hands to do as he thought aloud. “Do you remember the other thing she said? That’s what I was doing when the Viceroy… 

Dedue snapped up the connection. “That’s why she didn’t come to the Officer’s Academy.”

Dimitri nodded. “Five years ago. That’s why she left the Viceroy waiting so long. No one in their right mind would pass up the chance to teach at the Officer’s Academy, nor ignore Seteth for so long…not unless what they were doing incredibly important. Something this important.” Dimitri pushed the rack of test tubes away. “She was investigating the Tragedy of Duscur. And now, it’s extremely clear to me that the Tragedy of Duscur was important to her. So important, that she stopped everything in her life to investigate it. Kind of like — ”

— he didn’t say it out loud — 

Me. 

Time had stopped for Dimitri. Ever since the attack on his parents, time had stopped. Life had stopped. Now was nothing. The future was nothing. Until he could unwind what happened during the assassination, nothing that happened forward made sense. Yes, everyone else had moved on. Ingrid. Sylvain. Even Felix, who had lost his older brother in the attack. But not Dimitri. 

But now, Dimitri had found someone else — someone else for whom time had stopped. That such a person even existed, that there was even one person out there… And that this one person was also reaching for the truth…

So what did she know?

Dimitri started speaking again. “Well then. Professor Parvati herself had never stepped into Duscur. But she conducted an investigation. So it has to be more than her. She is not the only person.” Dimitri looked up at Dedue again. “There were other people doing it for her.” 

His heart was fluttering. The feeling was overwhelming. That Professor Parvati hadn’t been the only one reaching out there. That there were even more people. That he wasn’t alone. 

He could see the look of concern again on Dedue’s face. “What now?” Dimitri snapped.

Dedue couldn’t look at him. He looked down. “What if the Truth does not exist anymore?”

The Prince’s mouth went dry.

“What if the Truth is already gone?”

Dimitri tried to swallow, but his throat just felt like cracked walls. He croaked, “How long have you been thinking this?”

“What if what is broken cannot be fixed?”

Then Dimitri said, “I am here, am I not?”

Dedue looked up. 

“And you are here,” he said to Dedue. 

Dedue nodded.

“And so is Professor Parvati,” Dimitri finished. “The Truth is not gone.” He watched Dedue’s fingers draw circles upon the table. Then he said, “We are not dead yet, Dedue.”

Dedue’s fingers stopped. Then, Dedue said, “Very well.”

The tension dropped out of his shoulders as Dimitri let go of his breath. He gave Dedue a tentative smile. “Are you with me? We will ask Professor Parvati?”

Dedue nodded, and held a hand out for Dimitri to catch and squeeze. A Faerghusi agreement. Dimitri chuckled. “Let us go now, right away. We will ask her what does she know, and how.”

With that, the two Faerghusi headed to Professor Parvati’s office, Dimitri swearing to himself, The Truth cannot be dead yet. I won’t let it die.

Chapter 11: Backup Plans

Summary:

The Prince of Faerghus confronts Professor Parvati. Parvati considers her options.

Chapter Text

 

“Ah shit…caught me immobilized,” were the first words Professor Parvati said when Dedue walked into her office a half hour later. It was dark outside, and snowing again, and Dedue rubbed his hands together to get warmth back into them as he stepped inside. He found the professor hunched over her desk. She was standing behind it, her elbows resting in the middle of the table. She was resting her forehead against her clasped hands. She was clearly in pain.

Dedue thought, Ah…

Dimitri, who hadn’t heard her as he filed into the room after Dedue, said, “Professor, I have a favor to ask.” 

“Sure,” said Professor Parvati. “But first, let me just...punch my uterus, and contemplate Death. Death could be a nice repose.”

Dimitri glanced at Dedue in alarm. “What is wrong with the professor?”

Dedue said, “Ummm…”

“There are a lot of things wrong with this professor,” said the professor. “She’s got a system that insists on building a wall and tearing it down. And every time, it screams at me: I did this for you!”

Dimitri frowned, not understanding. “Is this a battle?”

Professor Parvati momentarily looked up from where she had been resting her head on her hands. She was just now truly registering the Prince. “Yes, Your Highness, this is a battle. They call it…the Battle of the Womb.” The corner of her lips quivered.

“The Battle of the Womb?” Dimitri was slowly shaking his head.

Dedue was starting to get a very bad feeling.

Professor Parvati mourned, “I always lose this war. So does my uterus. There are no victors here.”

At this point, Prince Dimitri was utterly bewildered. “What war? What is happening?” 

“The professor is bleeding,” Dedue burst, desperate for Dimitri to understand.

But he filled with despair as Dimitri said, “Where?

In this moment, time stopped for Dedue. Dedue’s mind was finally coming around to acknowledge that…no one had told the Prince. About the menstrual cycle. Because… Because…

Because who was supposed to?  

His step-mother was dead. He did not have any sisters. He had been put into the care of Rodrigue. And then in Fhirdiad — most of the people he interacted with were men. His tutors, combat instructors, the castle chief of staff… Certainly there were the maids, but which maid wanted to be the one to tell him…and under what circumstance would that have been possible…? Whereas Dedue had learned because he’d had both his mother and his sister in his life until he was fourteen, Prince Dimitri had…not…

So who was going to tell the Prince…the ways of the world?

Time had not stopped for Dimitri, however. He looked frantic as he said, “Why are we standing here? Where’s the infirmary? We will take you there, Professor!”

Professor Parvati lifted her head up. She told him, “You need a biology lesson.”

And then, she gave him a biology lesson.

Dedue stood there for the most part, standing at attention with his hands behind his back, thinking about how badly he wanted to close the door to the office. With himself on the other side of it. But instead, he was here, unsure if he had permission to close Professor Parvati’s door, but in absolute dread over who else could be listening. All of the professors, for sure. In fact, Professor Aelfric’s office, across from hers, currently had its door open. 

Then Dedue thought about how Dimitri would have four hundred and twenty-three questions, all of which Dedue would have to field afterwards. As if he knew these things.

When the professor finished providing her biology lesson, she returned to her table-top fetal position. This time she lowered the top of her head onto the table, her braid falling out onto the papers over it. Dedue could see something dark blue peeking out at the nape of her neck, just before the tangle of silver strands. A tattoo? On a woman of Duscur?

Dedue’s attention returned to the issue at hand — or, in her stomach — as Prince Dimitri said quietly, “Are you dying?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I am dying. We are all dying. Slowly. With every breath,” said Professor Parvati’s muffled form.

Dedue facepalmed. They had found Dimitri’s female twin.

Prince Dimitri did not appreciate it. “Stop playing with me!” he said.

Here, the professor actually unwound. She almost pulled herself back to standing as she regarded the Prince. Then she laughed. “Why are you here, Prince Dimitri? Oh. Oh. That was bad. Don’t — ouch — don’t make me laugh again.”

Dimitri looked at her for a moment, then approached her desk. His eyes roved the papers littered across it. He picked up the one titled Business Proposal #8. “What is this?” he asked.

Nonsense! thought Dedue. Dimitri was stalling. Now that the professor had asked for his purpose forthwith… But Dedue could not say this out loud. He could not allow his liege to seem weak. It was always Dedue’s challenge to find subtle ways to support him.

That subtle way was to finally go back to the door and close it.

The gesture was not lost on Professor Parvati. She watched Dedue do it. The question was on her face. She proceeded to tell Dimitri what he was looking at was just something she had wanted to propose to the St. Cichol Inn.

“Ah,” said Dimitri. “I assume that is what didn’t go well this morning? They said no?”

Professor Parvati gave him a puzzled look, then said, “Oh. You were there. I forgot. Ah ha. No. They didn’t say no. They didn’t even see it.” Her eyes stayed on Dedue as he returned to take a stand with the Prince. “They said I needed to…book an appointment.”

“That makes sense,” said Dimitri. “When are you going back?”

“Oh, I will not be going back,” she said with her brows raised. She started collecting the other pages into a pile.

Dimitri asked, “Why?” There was something sarcastic in her tone.

Professor Parvati gave a smirk. “It is most unfortunate, but it seems that they are booked for the rest of the month. And if I go back again, she said their appointments will be booked out for the rest of the year as well.”

“Ah,” Dedue intoned. “Most unfortunate.” 

Parvati gave a wry up-nod. An acknowledgement. He knew what this was. They were on the same page. 

Prince Dimitri also glanced at him. He had only heard Dedue using that tone when Dedue was angry. He looked back and forth between them, waiting for someone to fill him in.

Dedue said, “You can tell him.”

Parvati’s brows raised up. She reassessed the Prince, then pulled her chair out to the side of the desk and took a seat with a grimace.“In all honesty,” she said, “I had already been warned by Aelfric before I went over there. He said they like their people to be more white. And more male.” She shrugged. “But don’t worry. I have a backup plan.” She settled in a pose of comfort as she crossed her feet up on the corner of the desk, towards the bookshelf. 

Dedue stared at her. Did she just… He could not believe the gall of this woman. Was she really sitting like this in front of a prince? 

The Prince did not notice it immediately. He was thumbing through pages and picking phrases out of the document. “Innovative lighting system…mood lightning…Aegir light fixtures… Aegir lights? What — ” The rest of the question died on his lips when he looked up and found her feet upon the table.

She noticed him staring. “Before you misunderstand,” she said, “I got tired of craning my neck to look up at you flagpoles. Also, this is currently the only position I can sit in that doesn’t remind me of how I am currently being sawed in half. Please don’t make me move again,” she pleaded. 

While Dedue’s head went blank, he would find out later that all Dimitri could think of in this moment was Flagpoles… Flagpoles… She called me a flagpole.

“Of course, if this is a terrible bother to you, do remember that you are in my office, and you don’t have to be. I promise, I will be okay. Probably.”

Dedue’s jaw dropped. Did she just turn a plea into an ultimatum? This woman was… Dedue had no words. He rarely had many words to begin with. Now he had none. Bold? Daring? Bold and daring didn’t account for the insane. Imposing? But she did not make them feel unwelcome. She was not unkind. 

Arresting. That was the word for it. Arresting. Dedue could not help but admit, he too was curious. Curious to see what she would do next. Say next. Or, be next. This professor seemed to be so many things. 

He wasn’t just curious. He was eager.

Dimitri said, “You were saying about a backup plan…”

“Ah yes, backup plans,” said the professor. She did that thing again — when she said backup plan, her eyebrows were wiggling. The smirk on her face was so self-satisfied, both Dedue and Dimitri leaned in closer to the table, engrossed. Her voice dropped into her secret plan. She said, “Student. Orientation. In two days. That is when Ferdinand arrives. And with him, the Duke of Aegir as well. Let’s see what they have to say at the St. Cichol Inn, when I bring the Duke of Aegir himself.”

Ferdinand? thought Dedue. He looked at the Prince. He had seen the flicker of annoyance, but Dimitri had masked it before the professor had noticed. 

Dimitri asked, “Why the Duke of Aegir particularly?”

“Because that,” said Parvati, “is where we manufacture this.” The Professor took something out of her pocket and waved it at Dedue. “Recognize this?” 

Dedue said, “Ah.” She had taken out one of the lights from yesterday. 

Professor Parvati tossed it for Dimitri to catch and instructed him to tap the base. He put the papers down and did as she commanded. The light came on right into his face and he dropped it, crying out in surprise. Dedue picked it off of the floor before it could roll away farther and examined it. It had a smooth silver barrel and a black, rubbery grip.

“This is an Aegir light,” Professor Parvati stated, explaining it was Ancient Technology, and that expanded light installations powered by these lights were on track to change academic institutions, castle lighting and security, storefronts and city streets. They had already replaced the lighting systems within the Duke of Aegir’s mines, where it was first tested. “It removes the fire hazard,” Professor Parvati explained. “The Duke of Aegir has been my prized, beloved benefactor, with an eye for innovation and the reach of Prime Minister himself. Together, we will light the future of the Empire.”

Hubert’s face flashed in Dedue’s head. Dimitri beside him said, “The Empire?”

“And if that doesn’t work,” she went on, “I’ll just pitch my ideas to the inn’s competitors. That’ll be fun.” 

Dimitri looked surprised, then laughed. “Is that a backup plan for a backup plan?” 

“You always backup your backup plan.” 

Dimitri smiled. “Good to know.” 

“But you don’t tell people about your final backup plan.” 

“So there’s a backup plan you haven’t told us,” Dedue inserted.

Parvati started, then laughed. “I don’t like how smart this one is.” Her laughter petered away into an “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” 

There was a moment of quiet as the professor took a moment to rub her stomach, close her eyes, and do some intentional breathing. 

Dedue passed Dimitri the Aegir light for another chance to inspect it. The Prince turned it, rotated it, and turned it off and on as he said, “Professor… Do you hail from — the Empire?” 

The professor opened her eyes. “Well, I certainly didn’t come from Faerghus.”

A pointed jab, considering Duscur was now part of Faerghus. Prince Dimitri turned off the light. The room turned momentarily icy. The silence expanded until they could hear Professor Hanneman coughing. They heard heels click past Professor Parvati’s doors, perhaps Professor Manuela’s. In this time, the look on the professor’s face turned from smug to perplexed as she regarded the Prince. 

Dedue looked at the Prince. The Prince was smiling. Dedue was smiling too, on the inside. What the professor hadn’t realized was that she had just provided His Highness an opening. 

“Yes, you are right,” said Prince Dimitri. “Faerghus has done a grievous deed.”

Professor Parvati blinked, surprised.

“It was a heinous act,” the Prince added. “And it needs to be corrected.”

Now she was just confused. She looked at Dedue. It was clear she didn’t know where this was going.

“So I’ve now come to ask you about it. The Tragedy of Duscur.”

Professor Parvati frowned.

The Prince of Faerghus leaned forward across her table. “Tell us what you know about the Tragedy of Duscur. You investigated it.”

The professor stared long and hard at the Prince. Dedue could see her — for once — thinking quietly. She was talking very carefully when she next opened her mouth. She said, “I investigated if the people of Duscur were there. They were not. I cannot tell you what happened outside of this.”

“Professor Parvati.” This time, it was Dedue who spoke, and it had a particular kind of tone. He picked up her business proposal. “You are the kind of person who has a backup plan for her backup plan. You made a document like this overnight for your enjoyment. You were hand-selected by the Viceroy of the Church of Seiros. You enjoy the patronage of the Prime Minister of Adrestia. Do you really believe you can fool us into thinking you did not do a thorough job? On this?” He put the proposal down. “Please. Don’t insult us.”

Professor Parvati shot him a look. “You are stabbing me in the back, Dedue.”

“No, Professor. I assure you,” Prince Dimitri said, chuckling. “If you ever cross Dedue, he will stab you in the front. I promise.”

Parvati’s brows flew up. “Oooooh, woooow, okay. Let’s just — add a little bit of terror to my day. We haven’t even gotten to Student Orientation.” She spun the golden ring on her right ring finger as she stared at them, slack-jawed. She gave a light scoff as she said, “Is that what you came here to do? To ask me, what the hell happened?”

Dimitri nodded. His eyes didn’t leave her face for a second. 

She looked away, staring back to her bookshelf. Then she said, “Class dismissed.”

Dedue knew from her tone that for now, this was the end.

“Not until I’ve got what I asked for,” pushed the Prince.

Dedue placed a hand on the arm of his liege. He shook his head. This was enough. 

Dimitri’s eyes widened. They betrayed questions, and sudden fury. He thought he was so close. 

But again, Dedue shook his head. She now knew their intentions. That they would come back. Still, it was a relief to Dedue when the Prince obliged him. They backed away from her table. 

The professor did not once look at them, staring daggers into the wall, ignoring them, as the Prince put the Aegir light’s glass face onto the table, followed Dedue out of the room, and closed the door.


 

What just happened? 

This was first and foremost in Parvati’s head when the Prince closed the door behind him.

What just happened?

She sat at her desk, her feet still propped upon the corner closest to the bookshelf, immobilized, but not by the pain between her legs. She cursed softly. All her pain meds she’d somehow left in her apartment. She took in a deep breath and leaned against the back of her chair, slowly rolling her neck along the rim of the back of the chair as she closed her eyes and tried to think.

What just…happened? 

Her breath was coming out shallow and empty, like there was the weight of many bricks stacked against her chest. 

Did he just…come into my office…and threaten me? 

Stay away from him, Randolph had said. Be wary of the Prince. 

What do I do, she pleaded to an imaginary Randolph, if he keeps following me?

She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Since she hadn’t fitted her office out with Aegir lights yet, the ceiling faded into darkness. But she could see into the recess something gleaming. A spider was weaving in the corner there. Parvati watched the spider, making mental note to bring a broom in, or to ask that Cyril kid, to sweep the spider away, as she thought, I can’t let him keep doing this.

Which really was quite farcical; it implied she had power over the Faerghusi Prince. 

She was finally coming to understand what Randolph had meant. The things they had said to each other the last night she and Randolph were together were coming back to her now. They were echoing in her head. 

You have to be vigilant.

Randolph, this is a high school.

A school full of royals, he reminded her. 

It was in his eyes. The warning was there. But she didn’t hear it. She didn’t see it. How could she possibly have recognized what Randolph meant before witnessing what she had just seen in the Prince eyes? 

She could hear his voice too, in her head. The Prince’s. It was not his usual voice.

Tell us what you know about the Tragedy of Duscur. You investigated it.

Not until I’ve got what I asked for.

Parvati swallowed, her skin erupting in gooseflesh. It was making her dizzy as she tried to keep the panic at bay. When would he come for her next? What would she say to him? 

It was Dedue’s voice ringing in her head next. 

Professor Parvati. You are the kind of person who has a backup plan for her backup plan. 

What the hell was wrong with her?

You made a document like this overnight for your enjoyment. 

Why did she tell them all these things?

You were hand-selected by the Viceroy of the Church of Seiros. You enjoy the patronage of the Prime Minister of Adrestia. 

By the gods, this was not the time to have been showing off! These were — not the people to… 

Do you really believe you can fool us into thinking you did not do a thorough job? On this ? Please. Don’t insult us.

She covered her face with her hands as her own words came back to her. You are stabbing me in the back, Dedue. She was angry. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he serving that Prince? 

No, Professor, I assure you, the Prince had chuckled. There was that look in his eyes. The Prince was enjoying it. If you ever cross Dedue, he will stab you in the front. I promise.

Her eyes had slid to Dedue. His huge frame. The imperceptible wall that was his face. She knew he saw it. She knew he could see her imagining. The unfiltered fear as a very important truth came clicking into place: it didn’t matter if she understood what Dedue was doing. It didn’t matter if she understood why, or that he was of Duscur. Whatever the Prince commanded, Dedue would do it. Dedue would do anything for him.

She tried to swallow again, but this time, her mouth was dry. Her throat prickled and she coughed. The spider in the corner froze in place, paused, and in the silence that followed, she found they were both waiting. Waiting for what happened next. When would they return next, Dedue and the Prince? Parvati listened to the sound of porcelain clinking from another office, the tea kettle whistling. 

The spider set to work again. Parvati did as well. She could see that the spider had already set the bridge line of its web, had set the spokes and the frame. It had laid the foundation for what it was building. Now it was laying its trap. It switched the type of webbing it was using. Instead of the strong foundational wires, out came the sticky lines. 

She didn’t like spiders much, but from a distance, they were absolutely fascinating. When she was sick once, she had watched a spider through the whole laborious process of building a web. First the frame: a central hub of webbing, and the lines that went from the center to the places from which it would hang. Then, the spider connected the foundation lines, starting from the outside and spiraling inwards. They started the trap big and wide, and honed in slowly to the center hub, where all the foundation lines aligned. Into the center, where it would sit and wait. 

But before there was peace in the center, there was the spiral. The spider had just started spiraling. And that’s where Parvati was. She felt she too was spiraling. What was she going to do? She had to tell somebody. She had to tell Randolph. But how would she get word to him? The Tragedy of Duscur was a key element in this. She couldn’t just write to him and send it by postal couriers. What if they were intercepted? No. Messages like these were always to be sent by word-of-mouth. 

Her thoughts drifted to Sushant, to the potential that she could send someone to fetch him, that she might be able to send him. But she immediately shook her head. Oh my Gods! she thought with a lurch of panic. The Prince shouldn’t have seen him! 

And Randolph wouldn’t be pleased to see him either. For…reasons. 

Should she tell Hanneman? 

No, she rebutted herself. Hanneman had specifically told her off, when he found out what she had been doing those two years. He’d told her not to involve herself with anything. To stop what she was doing. To be done with investigating. 

It doesn’t matter what you find out, he had said to her. That’s not going to bring back the dead.

He was afraid, that day. You have to stop, Parvati. You have to stop — now. 

What about Manuela? 

Don’t be ridiculous! Parvati snapped at herself. Manuela was an innocent bystander. Everyone else was. They didn’t need to get involved in something so dangerous…something Parvati now knew was this dangerous. 

No, she realized as the spider spiraled closer to home, swinging in slow but increasingly tightening arcs. She couldn’t tell Manuela this…and in fact, she couldn’t tell anyone new. She couldn’t tell anyone who wasn’t already involved. If the Prince would threaten her, an Officer’s Academy professor, why would he stop at anyone else? 

Professor means nothing, thought Parvati. He is royalty! A Crown Prince! 

Could she employ any other messengers to Randolph? 

Ha, thought Parvati. No way. There was no one here from her network. She had thought she’d have some time to build… Here she was, at Garreg Mach, a woman of Duscur. If a messenger heard what she wanted to deliver, what would stop her from simply turning Parvati over to the Prince? This woman seems to be suspicious, the messenger could say. They might even expect a reward for turning Parvati in. 

As the spider sped up, revolving around and around in smaller, busy concentric circles, Parvati’s mind went in the other direction, becoming clear and slow. 

Can’t reach Randolph. Can’t tell Hanneman. Can’t tell Manuela. 

And Sushant was gone. 

Gods! thought Parvati. The Tragedy of Duscur… All this time, had she too been swinging off of lines, spinning in a circle, building up a web? Only to realize now, the prey in her trap was herself? 

“By the Gods,” Parvati whispered. She was alone.

Chapter 12: The Edge of Dawn

Chapter Text

Not long after the Prince of Faerghus and his vassal left her office, Parvati’s door opened again with a sing-song voice. “Parvati-i-i!

Parvati broke her gaze away from the spider. “Manuela!” she whispered to herself. 

The songstress had come forward with a silver tray hosting a teapot and two cups. Parvati removed her feet from her desk immediately, wincing, as she started to clear her desk. She collected her business plans into a hasty roll and threw it into a drawer in her desk, thinking, It’s just one thing after the next… She couldn’t believe how much happened in one day at Garreg Mach. She was getting tired of it. There was nothing that she wanted more than sleep right now. To sleep, and to forget everything.

“I overheard you talking to the Prince,” said Manuela.

Parvati looked up. 

“You should have told me you were having these kinds of pains. This tea does wonders to soothe the pain. And right here,” Manuela pointed to a see-through caplet with some gelled potion inside, “that’ll handle the nausea really quick.”

Oh! thought Parvati, letting go of her breath. Thank the Gods… She didn’t hear everything… Then she frowned. “Anti-nausea medication?”

Manuela’s hands took on a glow. “You’re going to need it after I heal you.”

Parvati shot backwards out of her chair so fast, it landed with a racket on the wooden floor.

Manuela halted. “Oh. Allergic?” She stared at Parvati for a moment, and then said, “Severely allergic, from that response.”

Parvati had her back against the wall, and was breathing hard. She had her eyes on Manuela’s hands until they stopped glowing. This, to a healer, was a sign of distrust, but there was no remorse inside of Parvati as she said, “Something like that.”

She made the conscious effort to look back to Manuela’s eyes. Manuela was frowning. She apologized. “I should have asked.”

Parvati waved her hand dismissively. “It’s uncommon. It’s okay.” 

Manuela shook her head. “I am a physician. It is my duty to ask.” She frowned at the tea for a moment as she went about muttering, “A good reminder before the kids come in. Better find out what all of their allergies are, before something happens to them.” Manuela made the decision and nodded to herself. Then she smiled apologetically to Parvati. “I’ll bring some painkillers. Start drinking that tea. It’ll soothe you quick. Pour a cup for me, too, would you?”

Parvati used her foot to kick the head of her chair high enough to catch with her hand. It allowed her to avoid stooping over. When she sat down to the table, she sat down to a sharp citrus smell accompanied by deep floral notes. Her eyes widened when she recognized Manuela’s china set. It was the same brand as the Aegir estate, a teapot wide and flat in the style of Hrym. Wow! Of course an opera diva could have the same luxury set as the Prime Minister. 

Parvati leaned forward to inhale the scent again. It cleared her sinuses in an instant. She looked up as Manuela walked back into her office. 

“I just can’t seem to find that new bottle. But I asked Hanneman. He said he’ll bring some over.”

“Fantastic.”

Manuela paused, standing awkwardly in front of her table. “Well, tell me! What do you think?”

“Oh!” Parvati started, realizing she had not yet poured the tea for them. She ushered Manuela to take a seat, and the songstress began recounting every detail of how her day had gone. 

Parvati found herself relaxing to the backdrop of Manuela’s voice. It was good, not to be the center of attention, to have one place, one person where she didn’t have to do so much of the talking. A person to listen to, while her mind settled in the lilt of the voice, and found peace. Then she realized, Manuela was looking at her expectantly. The songstress had asked her a question.

“I’m sorry?” 

“My operas. Which ones have you been to? Ashilaa? Satelesque?”

"Is that the one with the dragon cat? Like, Ooh! Don't be so stinky!

Manuela smiled at the reference.

Parvati chuckled, then took a sip to hide her embarrassment. “I actually haven’t been to many. In fact, there’s only one I’ve seen: Fire Emblem.”

“That’s the one with Edge of Dawn.”

Parvati nodded.

Manuela blew on her tea. “If I can tell you a secret, it’s a mediocre song.” She enjoyed seeing the scandalized look on Parvati’s face as she went on to say, “It’s very popular, but I don’t know for what. It’s all over the place. Still — you know the saying: the customer is always right. So if that’s the one song people ask me to sing, I won’t disappoint them.” She sipped her tea, flinched — too hot — and looked at Parvati. “If you got to see that, you saw me in my last performances.”

Parvati put her cup down. “Actually…no,” she said. “By the time I finally got there…you had already moved on.”

Manuela blinked. “Professor Parvati, you…have heard me sing, I understand?”

Parvati chuckled softly. “There was a time I heard you every day.”

“Well, now you’ve got me intrigued. Spit it out, now. Secrets don’t make friends.”

Parvati chuckled again. “Or, maybe it’s the only way you know your friends. To whom do we divest our secrets?” 

A moment of silence passed as Manuela mulled over this. Parvati thought about it too. To whom could she divest her secrets? Because what had passed between the Prince of Faerghus and Dedue and herself was a secret.

Parvati closed her eyes and listened to the clink of china, let the sharp heat of the tea fill her, starting from her throat, down her esophagus, into her center. This warmth bolstered her heart, an artificial injection of strength to her core. Then she said, “Very well. Since you told me one, Manuela, I, too, will tell you a secret.”

“Oooh. And what secret is that?”

“The secret of what you mean to me.”


This story starts five years ago. It was three weeks before my graduation that I learned about a terrible thing: my parents had been killed in Duscur. 

They were archaeologists. Professors, like me, at Enbarr Imperial. And though they often went to Duscur for digs — the archaeological excavation sites — this time they were there for personal reasons. My mother went to visit my grandmother. They wanted to bring her  to Adrestia, to see my doctorate graduation. But…obviously…that didn’t happen.

Hmm? I was at the Aegir Manse when I learned of it. I had already submitted my dissertation and passed my defense, so I had time. I was just demonstrating a prototype to mining companies working for the Duke of Aegir when I learned it. 

Yes, that Aegir. Yes, now Prime Minister. Yes.

When I found out, I told him I had to head back. To handle — I don’t even know what I said. Whatever I needed to, to get away from him and his manse, so no one had to see me make a mess of myself. But when I got back to Enbarr…I couldn’t feel anything. There was too much to do. I knew if I let myself shut down…I wouldn’t claw back out in time for graduation. So the day I stepped back into the university…

There was…another doctorate student. Christophe. We had the same advisor? Mmhmm. Yes. He had been very much a partner, throughout that part of my career. He was worried when I got back, and insisted on returning a favor to him. He was always behind with his grading. So I graded all of that math homework. It was busy work. To keep my mind from buzzing. Not a moment of silence, for thought.

There was so much work. Finishing touches. Graduation preparation. Thank you letters. Logistics for Aegir Lights Co. I passed myself off from one list of checkmarks to the next. All that time, Christophe kept asking me, was I okay, was I okay, was I all right? I remember snapping at him, At least one of us has to get this work done. He looked hurt, and that only made me angrier. As if I had time to care about that right then.

I said more hurtful things to him. And then he handed me the entree form.

Entree form? Oh. Ah, the… It was the form for the graduation lunch, and dinner. So they knew how much to prepare of what. He had come by to give it to me. I took it back to my apartment, and it wasn’t until after dinner that I looked at it and started filling it out, when I saw it.

I remember thinking, Oh, Baba will want the Dagdan Paella for sure. And then I put a check mark next to it.

This was the form for my whole family. There were my parents’ names, underneath my own. Which entree were they going to be having? …That’s when I saw what I was doing and I stopped. And I sat down, and I stared at this form, and I started to think. 

For the Sinha family… For the Sinha family, which entrees would we be having?

Would my mother like the Almyran lamb pilaf?

Did she want it with a soup? 

Would my father like a salad with what he was having?

That’s when I really saw what I had done. Paella for my father. I put a check mark on something that wouldn’t exist. An impossibility.

Ha ha ha ha ha… Pretty stupid, right?

I’m — I’m sorry… Let me just — Let me get some tissues over here…

That’s when it hit me, that’s when I could see, the absurdity of all I had been doing. I spent…all my time…getting ahead in life. Becoming the best. Being Number One. One of the youngest, one of the most titled academics, on the shoulders of two accomplished professors…doing so much to establish my future…

When the life I should have been living was the one in the past. 

That’s when I realized, everything that mattered was behind me. The day I secured the Aegir proposal — my biggest accomplishment — that was the day I found out…the people I wanted to tell most about this…were no longer there. …Were…no longer.

Oh, ha ha! Sorry. That’s gross. I’m getting snot all over my hands — ha ha ha! 

Oh my Gods. Oh. My Gods. You will let me wash this tea cup. I’ll make sure to clean it. No, no, no, no! I demand it! I’ll be careful. I’ll take care of it. 

Oh — yes — yes, I would like another cup. Thank you. Oh, you just re-boiled it with magic! How convenient. I wish I could — yes — ha ha ha ha!

Hmm? Christophe? Ah, ha ha — no. …But…I could have been kinder. I should have been kinder to him. 

Mmhmm. Yes. Graduation. Huh. I guess, on that day, Hanneman was my family.

Oh! Yes, of course, you didn’t know. Hanneman is…like a second father to me. It was a joke at the university, that I had three parents: Ma, Baba, and Hanneman. If I asked Ma for something, she would undoubtedly say no. Baba would say, ‘Ask Ma.’ So as a kid, I always ran away to Hanneman. See, more often than not, Hanneman would say yes — if only to stop my pestering. And then he would hear it from both of my parents! Ha ha ha! 

Oh, believe me, I have given him enough grief! Hee hee hee!

Sigh. Ah. Actually, he was the one who warned me what would happen. 

No. About my graduation. You see… My graduation was going to be big. There was a great many attending it. There was, of course, my friends — people I’d gone to college with, people I taught classes with, did business with, my clients. Local family friends. But beyond that — there was all the faculty and my parents’ colleagues, the mercs and crew leads and field technicians and sponsors of digs… Age-old contacts! In fact, I remember sending a letter to Hanneman complaining: there would be more people there to see my parents than for me! It was going to be a big reunion, a big reunion they had planned. 

Ha ha ha ha, ‘oh no.’ You got that right. ‘Oh no.’ It meant…all of those people…who were coming to my graduation… Some of them didn’t even know. Some of them found out at my graduation. As for everyone else… What were they going to say to me? Congratulations? Or condolences? Which comes first? 

More often than not, they froze up when they saw me. I was the one who went to them. 

‘Thank you for coming.’ 

‘Thank you for coming.’ 

‘Thank you for coming.’ 

‘They would have loved to see you.’ 

‘They told me so much about you. I am sorry.’

So many people there…none the people I was looking for. Christophe was the one who told me, everyone could see it in my eyes. Even though I was smiling, what I was really saying: ‘You are not the one I want. You are not the one I want. You are not the one I want.’

My graduation had become the funeral that I could not attend.

That day was the hardest time. It was that one. Not the day I found out I had lost my parents. Not the day I understood that I had lost my parents. It was the first day that I had to live without my parents…the first day they were supposed to be there, but they were not. 

The night that followed was long, and deep, and dark. For the first time, I was learning what it meant to be alone. I didn’t sleep a wink. I was too exhausted to sleep. I spent the night staring at the ceiling. And then, at the edge of dawn…I heard someone singing.

My apartments…were directly across from the back of the Mittelfrank Opera Company. 

That’s right. The dawn after my graduation…was the first time I heard you singing. You used to rehearse your students there, no? All those drills, all those exercises. Ear training. 

I’ll admit, when I first heard your voice… I was so angry. I hated it. I despised it. I was thinking, how could there be something so beautiful, in this same moment of despair? I just wanted the world to burn…to burn with me.

Surprised, are you? That’s why I told you — it’s a secret. 

I was so angry…but the songs… They kept coming every morning. And eventually, they started to heal me. I started to leave my windows open through the night so I could hear you. The light of dawn always came with a song.

So…in all honesty… I had never seen you in an opera. In fact, I had never seen you at all! You were always around a corner from my apartment. I never went out to go stand at the hallway doors. I was afraid you would notice me, and be bothered, and change your location…or maybe I feared you never existed at all, and if I went looking for you, you’d disappear, you’d be gone. 

That’s definitely what it felt like, when I finally got the chance to go to the opera. I was a guest of the Duke of Aegir, and you… You were already gone.

So when I heard your voice again… The moment I came out of the office of Seteth… 

I knew you right away. I could never forget your voice. 

Manuela… This is what you mean to me. What you are, what you have done for me — I can never repay. I c-can’t believe you are here. 

Thank you for being here. Thank you for existing. Thank you for singing. 


The water in Manuela’s eyes were beading across her lashes when Parvati had finished. The diva cleared her throat. “My mascara is going to run,” she said. She announced she was going to the restroom, that she would be back.

When she opened the door, she ran into Hanneman, who had just lifted his hand to knock. He started. “Professor Manuela. You are crying. What happened, Manuela?” 

She skirted around him without an answer, and he watched her departing down the hallway. He looked back at Parvati. “You, too? What is going on here?”

Parvati brushed her hand across her sticky cheeks, and dabbed a tissue at her nose again. She said, “It’s nothing. We were talking about sad things.”

“What sad things?”

“It’s a secret.”

Hanneman frowned at her. He came in, and handed her a tissue he had in his hands. Then he said, “No, no, don’t blow in it! The pain killers are in there. I had to ask Tomas if he had any. Tomas is the librarian. I’ll introduce you. Make sure to thank him when it happens.”

“Oh!” said Parvati sheepishly. She gulped down the caplets with cold leftover tea. 

Hanneman watched her, fidgeting, then quickly he closed the door. When he came back, Parvati gave him a puzzled look, for he had slipped a Silence charm upon the door handle before he returned. 

His whisper was urgent. “Parvati, what is happening? You keep getting visits from the Prince of Faerghus.”

She could do nothing but nod at him. She was all worn out. 

This was, somehow, all he needed to glean something. He took a small, green cloth out of his pocket and started wiping his monocle as he sighed through his nose. “What does he know?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Almost nothing. But he knows that I know something. And he won’t leave me be until he knows what it is.”

“But — how? Why? How did he — ”

Parvati told him about dinner she had with Dedue and the Prince.

Hanneman hissed. “I should have gone. I could have stopped this.” 

Parvati shook her head. “No. No, Hanneman, you couldn’t. That Prince has been hounding me all of this time.” She was coming to realize it as she spoke the words to Hanneman: “He was coming for me, sooner or later. It was just a matter of time.”

“Then it didn’t have to be this soon. The Prince, of all people…”

Parvati nodded. She watched Hanneman put away the wiping cloth away and readjust his monocle. 

He said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Parvati looked up at him. In that one question, he was asking a lot of things. He wasn’t just talking about the last few days. He was talking about back then. That she had continued her investigation in the first place, even after he forbid it. She said, “Because you wouldn’t like it.”

His storm-gray eyes fell away as she said it. “I…I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

“…Hanneman?”

His voice was growing thick. “I… I regret telling you not to do it. I… I reflected on it, a few weeks back, and realized… I had effectively done the same thing. I had done effectively the same thing. Am doing the same thing, even today. That’s why I came to the Officer’s Academy.” He looked back to Parvati. “You know who I am. After what happened twenty years ago to my sister…” 

Parvati remembered his sister, though very dimly. She was mostly an arm, disembodied, and an embrace that smelled like orange blossom and patchouli. She never told Hanneman this, but she couldn’t remember her face, couldn’t remember the woman. She had been older than Parvati’s parents, and, Parvati didn’t understand it then, but…Parvati’s parents never let her be alone with with that woman, or — more importantly — her husband.

Hanneman von Essar, the Father of Crestology, was the inheritor of a Crest. Crests granted unique powers, passed by bloodlines. While many in his family produced the Crest of Indech, his sister was not so lucky as to have a Crest manifest. She had, however, been married off to a nobleman who expected she would pass the Crest off to at least one of his children. 

Seven children later, she was greatly ill, and all the children were all without Crests. Her husband was beside himself. Furious. And…he took his fury out upon them: his wife, his children. That is what Parvati remembered: her blood did not bear the mark of Indech, but her skin bore the blue stamps of his knuckles and his fists. 

Heart disease. She died of heart disease. That’s what they had told Hanneman. 

Right before the nobleman married another Crest-bearing woman, and got himself those Crest-bearing children. All the other children — were discarded.

Now, Professor Hanneman regarded Parvati. He said, “I know that drive, the drive to know, so we can change something. I devoted my life to Crests because of it, so they can be made accessible, be given to anybody…to stop it from happening again, and again, and again and again. So who am I, Parvati, of all people…to have told you not to do this? To not find the truth? Parvati, I am sorry. That I did this…brings me shame.”

“No.” Parvati stood up. She took his hand in hers. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever feel that way. It was good to hear it, Hanneman.”

“It — what?”

“To know, that it mattered…if something were to happen to me… My parents may have died, but I wasn’t dead yet.” She smiled at him. “You made that difference important.”

She could see his eyes were sparkling, and she moved into a hug. She squeezed him. “I love you, Hanneman. You are my family.”

He patted her back. “She would be happy,” he said. “I never found a wife, but at least I have a daughter. She would tell me something like that.”

Parvati pulled back with an eager grin. “So do I get to call you Dad now?”

“No.” His face furrowed like it always did.

“Awwwww.”

He still looked sour, but then his face cleared. He said, “Then from now on, you have to let me know. Before you do anything. You can’t do this alone. No one can.”

Parvati squeezed his hands in emphasis as she said, “Don’t worry. I’m not doing anything.”

“I won’t know how to protect you if I do not know.”

Parvati shook her head. “I’m not doing anything. I found peace. I have left it behind.”

Hanneman nodded. “But the Prince hasn’t.”

She nodded. “You’re right. The Prince hasn’t.”

Past Hanneman’s shoulder, the Silence charm glinted at her. A beautiful golden sliver of metal, Almyran, it hung off the doorknob from a blue ribbon and turned slowly on its own. For all anyone would know, she could pass it off as a bookmark. Considering the nature of things discussed in her office so far...

She said, “Hanneman. I’m going to need a Silence charm.”

Chapter 13: Intermission: Eight Hundred Years

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Rhea, we have a problem,” Seteth declared the moment Archbishop entered his office.

“And what would that be, dear Seteth?” Rhea locked the door behind her.

Seteth indicated she take a seat. “I’ve just been informed this morning… Professor Parvati has sent news to Enbarr. She has directed E.I. to stop shipping the items.” 

Rhea blinked. He was speaking about the Agarthan artifacts he and Rhea were trying to collect — and dispose of — in their efforts to wipe out the Ancient Technology. Professor Parvati was one of few with access to the artifacts owned by Enbarr Imperial University, artifacts the university was only able to acquire with Parvati’s parents at the helming the excavations. 

That, and almost a million gold. 

The Archbishop asked, “What happened?”

“As construction for the Museum has not yet begun, she advised they hold off so as not to take up space in the Church Treasury.”

Naturally, Enbarr Imperial would be extremely choosy about whom to license and how to part with the artifacts — temporarily. Without the secured and dedicated space Garreg Mach had promised them… The Archbishop’s eyes flashed as she realized what happened. 

It had been Parvati who had decided Garreg Mach did not pass muster.

“This also means she will have to reacquire sign-off for us to get those artifacts,” Seteth added.

Rhea closed her eyes. “If all she needs to see is a building being constructed, then let us start building. It can be a museum. It doesn’t have to be hers. When we are done with her…” She looked at Seteth. “I want to be done with this Parvati as soon as we can.”

Seteth nodded. “I have thus directed. Even if we build at maximum speed, it will take five months.” 

“Five months?” Rhea narrowed her eyes. “So she has bought herself some time.” 

Seteth could feel her anger seep out of her form, the white magic a lingering disturbance in the air. Sharp little crystals pricked him with every breath. He tried not to breathe deeply and said, “This is an exception.”

The Archbishop nodded. “Did they manage to find out the location of the Agarthan Ruins?”

Seteth shook his head. “No, not yet. After all, Shamir and Catherine have only just been directed to befriend her. Give it some time.”

Rhea nodded. “This is the only reason to keep her around. Once we find the Ruins…” Her eyes flashed. "We will flush the city out. We will wipe out the last of them. I will send Catherine and Shamir to lead that march. Eliminate the rats in their rats nest.”

“Yes, Rhea.”

Rhea held his gaze. “Remember why we are doing this. We have never been so close…” Her eyes grew distant.

“Eight hundred years,” Seteth intoned. He put a hand on his chin as he thought. “We searched eight hundred years… And her parents found it by accident?”

“Their last stronghold…” said Rhea.

Seteth nodded. “I look forward to a time when I can think Flayn is safe.” 

“I must go.” Rhea rose to her feet. She gave him a meaningful look. “Seteth. Take care of her.”

She meant Parvati. 

Seteth nodded. “I will.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 14: The Second Test

Chapter Text

The moment Parvati woke up, she had a plan. A plan for the Dimitri Problem. 

She would not tell him anything. She would not budge. And that would make her his enemy. 

But that was fine, she decided, because she was not a stranger to politics. She came from Enbarr Imperial. One did not navigate that university without picking up a background in politics. Her time in one of the most competitive academic environments taught her that sometimes, you couldn’t even enter the playing field without making some enemies. 

Parvati leaped out of bed, went to her washroom, and threw water across her face. Her reflection stared back at her as the water trickled down. The thing about making powerful enemies was — she needed to make powerful friends. 

And she had someone in mind already. 

Which was why, when she descended into the Dining Hall and crossed paths with Dedue and the Prince, she smiled. 

Prince Dimitri’s eyes widened. He exchanged a glance with his vassal. Before he could say a thing, however, Manuela called her like a songbird. “Parvati-i-i-i! Let’s go to the festival!” The diva descended upon her like a goddess and swept her away. 

Parvati giggled, taking supreme satisfaction as they left the Faerghus duo befuddled. She curled her two arms around one of Manuela’s and put her chin on the diva’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Thanks? I can’t imagine what for,” Manuela said in a sarcastic voice. 

They exchanged glances and emerged into the sunlight smiling. 

Before them, the marketplace thrummed with activity. It had transformed into a festival, with the people of Saleh Mach voyaging daily to prepare for the next day. Stalls had been stood up. Decorations swayed in the wind. Church banners had unfurled all over the place, spotless white against the monastery’s slate gray. Practicing jugglers cussed abuses at a Clairvoyant. The choir director was chalking markings to indicate where the choir would stand. One knight was yelling about getting beaned by a wooden beam. Some children navigated between workers with buckets of drinking water. Others were screaming and laughing raucously as they announced: House Edmund was just getting in. Parvati could hear horns in the distance.

Manuela perked up. “We should watch,” she said.

The nobility of the three nations in Fódlan brought their students to the Officer’s Academy in splendor and style. House Edmund was just the latest amongst them. Before that was House Gloucester, with a gift of fifteen gleaming gift horses. Last week, House Goneril paraded a host of Almyran tapestries, rugs, and musical instruments seized from their most recent “expedition.”  Though Parvati didn’t approve of it, she still sorely regretted missing it. And then there was House Varley, the odd one out. They elected to skip pomp and circumstance, arriving quietly with the schematics of a paper mill days before.

Parvati stood up on her tiptoes to try to get a glimpse of her student. Though she knew the House Heir of Edmund would be on horseback, she didn’t catch a glimpse of Marianne. All she saw were bored horsemen. A female knight was actually yawning as she proceeded. Parvati dropped back onto the balls of her feet, feeling sad.

If she recalled correctly, House Aegir was next. She had received correspondence from Ferdinand, who was eager to inform her that they would be preceded by a massive, waterproof, embroidered, cart full of silk. He was also keen to commend the pair of Aegir cloaks his father was gifting the Archbishop and Viceroy themselves, as well as the auto-quill ballpoint pens — the “generic” gifts for the Church. (That was the entire correspondence. He wanted to tell her what gifts they were bringing. He didn’t even ask how she fared.) 

Parvati bit her lip in anticipation. The children’s exhilarated squeals were infectious. Tomorrow was Student Orientation. Tomorrow, the children of power — and the financially astute — be gathered before her. It would be Parvati’s most expansive — and most impressionable — international audience. She couldn’t wait to wow them in their first Ancient Technology class. 

She leaned now into Manuela when Manuela spotted Marianne. She started providing a nonstop commentary about everything Parvati was too short to see. They spent the entire day in this way, gnawing turkey legs and eating ice cream non-stop as they watched House-after-House, student-after-student come in. 

As eve approached, Manuela turned to Parvati. “Shall we head to the main event?”

The main event was the arrival of the Heir to the Adrestian Empire. By the time the two professors squeezed their way into the Entrance Hall and claimed a spot at the top of the staircase, the bells were already exploding. With that, the excited chatter only grew louder. People lining the two sides of the long, wide staircase leaned forward and craned their necks around shoulders to get a glimpse of the bottom, where the Princess would enter. This was just like the welcome for the Prince, Parvati realized, but at that time, she’d been unknowingly at the bottom of the stairs…saying goodbye to her lover…with a most passionate kiss…

Apparently on display for everyone. 

Parvati flushed. 

Then, with all the colored streamers and confetti of circus flare, a string quartet of four mages floated in through the mouth of the Entrance Hall. Between the bells tolling, Parvati heard the Adrestian National Anthem, already mid-song. Her heart soared with the trills, Adrestian pride blooming up inside her chest pressing out and wide like a big balloon. It came out of her in an elated squeeze of Manuela’s hand. 

Manuela smiled and said, “Now this is an entrance.” Or something like that. Parvati couldn’t actually hear her. She was looking halfway down the Entrance Hall, where Seteth looked back at her. 

Her heart jumped. Why was her boss looking this way? Was she doing something wrong? How was she doing something wrong already? 

No, it wasn’t her. He scanned the crowd, then frowned in the dining hall’s direction. It now occurred to her: he was searching for Flayn. She wasn’t standing beside him. 

The parade of soldiers that now entered drew back Parvati’s attention. The string quartet had given way to the soldiers, soldiers who bore the Hresvelg double-headed eagle upon their breasts and upon their drums. Her heart thrummed with the beat as the drums rolled into crescendo. The Princess! She had to be coming! 

On Parvati’s notecard, she was a number and two lines of info: 

Score: 93

Likes: Reading, solitary exploration, talented individuals, debating historical viewpoints and strategies, nature, beautiful scenery. 

Dislikes: Outdated values, crests, rats, chains, swimming, losing control.

But in the flesh, she was so much more. 

Lady Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire, carried herself with a royal bearing and the expectation of obedience. While all the previous House Heirs had arrived on horseback, the Princess of Adrestia walked on her own two feet. The red cape over her shoulder marked her House Leader of the Black Eagles. Her legs came out of black trousers in red nylons and ended in black, heeled boots. Hanging at her side, where the Prince had a sword, was an axe.

“That’s her!” Manuela said into Parvati’s ear. 

Parvati nodded with a grin, and she drank her in. This was her Princess. This was her liege. This was the top of the nation her parents had fled to. They had found in Adrestia asylum, were welcomed. They’d made Adrestia home. Now here was Parvati, about to teach their Princess! The white hair that Parvati had almost mistaken for Duscuri, the large violet eyes assessing the crowd. Parvati had a long time to look as the Princess ascended the stairs, matching eyes it seemed with everyone as she followed the drummers at her own pace. To her right was another student, one Parvati would later recognize to be Hubert. To Lady Edelgard’s left — Parvati felt her heart lift. Ladislava. This was Randolph’s direct commander. Parvati refrained from throwing her hands up in the air and waving with gusto. That would not be the cool impression she wanted to make on her Princess…her liege.

And then Lady Edelgard was upon them, and Parvati came under the heat of that violet stare. Parvati realized something: walking the whole way meant the Princess gave people more time to witness her — and in the moment she met the Lady’s eyes, Parvati knew: this woman wanted to be witnessed. Her gaze was piercing and demanding, and the world folded around her like a stage. Parvati could feel herself becoming a part of an ensemble. And so it was, without a thought, that Parvati’s body did what it did. She bowed her head forward with a Hinduskari salute. 

The Hinduskari salute: a two-finger gesture like the Adrestian military salute. However, instead of bringing it to her right temple and signing it away, Parvati brought her fore and middle finger to her Third Eye, then lifted off one inch. 

This was an acknowledgement: I See You. To be seen by the Third Eye was to be seen by the Eye of Truth and the Eye of the Soul. For Parvati, one Soul dancing through the Hinduskari cycle of reincarnation, to give a Hinduskari salute meant to acknowledge another beyond current bodies, beyond life, beyond death. It was the acknowledgement of one Soul to another: 

I acknowledge You:

You of Past,

You of the Future,

And the Present We Share in Between.

And the Princess saw it. But from the way her eyes narrowed, Parvati realized: Lady Edelgard did not know what it meant. A mystery gesture. Perhaps an insult? 

Parvati smiled. Let her ask around, she thought. It will be a good topic. 

From across the room, Dedue was watching her. The Prince was beside him, clapping politely as he enjoyed the procession, but Dedue had his eyes trained on her. Then he leaned into the Prince’s ear and, in a moment, the Prince searched the line of people around her until he found Parvati.

Manuela stirred beside her. “What did you do? She was looking at us.”

Parvati tore her eyes away from Dedue. She said, “I didn’t do anything.” Which was not true. She was making powerful enemies, and she was making powerful friends. Her eyes followed the arched back of the future Empress as Lady Edelgard proceeded, and she thought,  Yes. Yes, Princess. You will do just fine. 


That night, Parvati didn’t realize the Prince had knocked on her door and stood waiting. She had gone into her office to retrieve a couple things, and had already shouldered her messenger bag and taken out her keys when she saw him.

“Back again? How can I help you, Your Highness?”

Prince Dimitri entered her office, followed by his massive shadow. She looked from one to the other, then motioned for the Prince to sit in the chair in front of her desk. When he obliged, she was engulfed by a powerful sinking feeling. 

This would not be quick. 

She needed a few days of rest before classes began, but at this rate… With the Prince of Faerghus insisting on daily visits, he was not making things easy for her.

“Hold on, Dedue,” she said, starting to move to retrieve the other chair. She was secretly happy when he raised a hand to tell her to stay in place. She didn’t want to get close to him — he will stab you in the front. I promise. Dedue collected a chair from the other side of the room and carried it back effortlessly with one hand. He placed it next to the Prince. Then, he too took a seat. 

Parvati stayed standing and stared. 

Prince Dimitri reclined in his chair, placing his right ankle upon his left knee. His right elbow he had placed upon her table, resting his chin casually in his hand as he watched her. His left hand tapped silently upon his boot. 

Then he said, “Close the door, Professor.”

Today he was not here as a student. Today, he was here as the King.

Parvati closed the door, heart hammering. She wondered if she should perhaps just let go of her Officer’s Academy career. From his tone, it occurred to her, that if she pushed hard enough, he could simply ask for her removal. What was she going to do then? Go back to E.I., of course. It would just be a shame she didn’t get to teach anything. Not one class.

That would be embarrassing.

She resumed her place behind the table and put the messenger bag down. “I thought you couldn’t like me by now.”

The Prince laughed. “Not like you? Why would I not like you?” It sounded genuine, but the smile that came afterwards was unkind. “Your merits are too strong to be ignored.”

“Listen. I’m not telling you anything.”

The Prince’s smile froze in place. 

Parvati shrugged. “I’ve already seen what Faerghus does with incomplete information. I’m not going to be the reason it happens again.”

The Prince blinked. “Do make the distinction, Professor. We are not the same. Me. My country. My brethren. We are not the same.”

“Hmph. This is true.” Parvati chuckled quietly. She looked for a moment at Dedue — stone wall as always — then pulled a drawer out from her desk. From it came a circular wooden box, painted with vibrant colors. She slid the lid off delicately. Revealed inside was a stack of diamond-shaped yellow blocks, with gleaming silver lining on top. They were arranged like a mandala, in what seemed to be a geometric depiction of a silver sun.

“Look. If you insist on having tough conversations,” she said, “we should at least be doing it over something delicious.” She finally sat down.

He examined it. “I’ve come to speak of something else today, actually. What is this?”

“Dedue can tell you,” she said. 

“It’s a South Duscuri sweet,” Dedue explained. “Kaju barfi. Cashews, milk, sugar. Sometimes saffron and ghee. The silver topping you see on these sweets is a silver foil. It is sometimes made with gold.”

Parvati mimed applauding. “That was…much more detailed than I had expected,” she said. 

Prince Dimitri looked at Parvati. “You eat silver?”

Parvati nodded. 

“And gold?”

She nodded again.

“That’s fascinating.” The Prince leaned back as he looked at the beautiful display. The diamonds were placed in concentric hexagons like a pyramid. 

“Dedue, have one,” said Parvati.

“I don’t often eat Duscuri sweets,” Dedue said. “I find most to be sweet in the excessive.”

Parvati looked at him. “How can you even call yourself Duscuri? This food isn’t close to your heart?”

He didn’t say anything. She had to work hard to imagine he was irritated, since he still wore the same face. 

Then she leaned across the table. “Don’t you want to make sure it’s not poisoned?”

Prince Dimitri’s and Dedue’s eyes both went round. Dedue reached forward for one of the sweets, but Parvati pulled away the box. “No waaaay,” she said. “Back off. I’m not giving any to someone who won’t appreciate it.” That said, she plucked one of the top six shining pieces of the sweets and bit into it. The boys watched, tense. She held another one out to Prince Dimitri and said, “Try it.”

He took the cold sweet off of her hand and assessed it, examining the way the light reflected off the silver wrapping. He took a bite. She stared at his face and studied his expression. When he finished eating it, she said, “Well?”

“It’s fine,” he said. 

“But do you like that one? Would you like another one?”

“No.”

“So you don’t like it.”

She could see him getting flustered. “I don’t not like it,” he said.

“Well, you have to like it if you want another one,” she teased.

“I don’t want another one.”

“Okay.” She started biting into another one, thinking, Wow, these kids don’t like my Duscuri treats. …More for me, I guess. She looked back again from Dedue to the Prince. “That is remarkable,” she said. “There wasn’t even a question in Dedue when I said… Huh. He reached for it directly. Inspiring.” She looked back at Dimitri. “He must really love you.”

The Prince reddened, and started clearing his throat. Dedue said, “I live to serve.”

“Tch, Have it your way,” Parvati said. “Well, if it is not about the Tragedy of Duscur, Prince Dimitri, you’d better get on to whatever you came here to say. You can’t monopolize my time for much longer.”

He smirked. “Are you sure of it?”

“Uh — yes. There will be other children. Twenty-four of you. Three mathematics classes. One technology course — in exchange for House Advisory, since I do not do combat.”

Dimitri nodded, taking this in. Then he said, “‘Children.’”

“Oops. I’m not supposed to call you that. I am trying.”

“Try harder.”

Parvati nodded. “Duly noted, Your Highness.” And then she waited for him. Since he was not forthcoming, she finally snapped. “What do you want?”

“I want you to head the Blue Lions.”

Parvati snorted. “You want me to what?”

“I said, I want you to head the Blue Lions.”

Parvati’s heart stopped. She looked from Dimitri to Dedue. Dedue nodded.

Me?” she said to them. “But why?”

“Because I have a goal, and you have insights no one else has, in the entirety of Garreg Mach.”

Parvati stared at him. “What goal?”

“I want to return Duscur to what it used to be, and I want to find the people who killed my parents. I will have my revenge.”

There it was, that ugliness in his eyes again. The ugliness that had made her recoil.

“Revenge?” said Parvati. “There’s just one problem.” She clasped her hands. “Do you know what happens to the people who tell the Truth, Your Highness?”

She didn’t know she would be the one doing this to them. When they gave no answer, she leaned forward.

“They die.”

One of them gasped. She almost laughed. They were so cute. They were just children. Parvati was twenty-six when she realized…she was at the Investigation’s apex. So she felt bad, seeing the Prince’s face furrow in resistance. These kids shouldn’t be having to learn such horrible lessons. This wasn’t what she came to this school to teach.

“Then I will die for the Truth, Professor,” said Prince Dimitri.

He took Parvati’s breath away. She tried to measure how much he meant it through his eyes. Then she looked at Dedue. 

He nodded. “And I will die with him.”

It felt like someone grabbed her heart and squeezed it. 

“Is that so?” she whispered. But she knew it was real. What he was saying was real. She may not be able to read him, but she already knew Dedue did not lie. “Very well then,” she said. “I will give you a test. If you pass this test, I will help you.”

The Prince and Dedue looked at each other.

“What is it?” asked Prince Dimitri. “What is this test?”

“It is one question.”

Dedue looked from Parvati to the Prince. He knew she was up to something, but the Prince hurtled in blindly. “Give it to me. I am ready.”

So she gave it to him. “Tell me something, Prince Dimitri. If you had to pick one — between your revenge, and the restoration of Duscur — which would you choose?”

The Prince’s eyes widened. She knew he could feel it now — her eyes, Dedue’s eyes, upon him. They all sat with bated breath, awaiting what he would say. 

She already knew his answer, though. She had set the test to fail him. He would not be the one to liberate Duscur. She had seen it in his eyes. 

But she would make him face this truth. She would make him hear himself say it. 

“Which one?” she asked. “Which one would you pick, Prince Dimitri?”

“Revenge.”

He said it. She made him say it. It did not make her feel better. 

She looked at Dedue. It was futile as ever to gauge his expression. But Dedue just heard the man he was following declare that he would not choose to restore Duscur. He was going to be okay with that?

So she said, “Eff.”

The Prince looked perplexed. 

“F,” Parvati clarified. “You get an F, Your Highness.” She stood up. “And there is nothing left to say between us.” Parvati slid the lid back over her sweets. “I decline your request regarding the Blue Lions. Class dismi — ”

“Give him another test.”

Parvati and the Prince both looked at Dedue. 

Dedue said, “Give him another one. That was unfair.”

Parvati’s mouth dropped open. “Un…fair?” She stared at Dedue. “You just heard him say he wouldn’t restore your motherland. Don’t you feel dirty, defending him?”

“It’s a hypothetical,” argued Dedue. “Perhaps he would never have to choose between them. Give us something with action. Let us demonstrate our resolve.”

Parvati glared at him. Dedue glared right back. She tore her gaze away and bit out, “Fine.” 

She was trounced. She crossed her arms, thinking, There he goes again. Dedue. Saving his ass. She leered at the Prince. Saving him from humiliation. 

Then, again, she said, “Fine,” and her eyes lit up, because she had found an even better question. She put her hands on her hips. “Dedue is right,” she said. “Let me see you in action.” She told the Prince she had a second test for him. 

Dimitri and Dedue exchanged glances. Already? She had already come up with a second test? 

“You’re even equipped with the best person to help!” She smiled.

This time, the Prince was wary. “What do you have in mind?”

She said, “It’s a riddle.”

“A riddle?”

“For you to solve by Navaratri.”

The Prince frowned. “Novo…rot…tree?”

“One of the most prominent Hinduskari festivals,” explained Dedue. “It lasts ten days — or rather — nine nights. Navaratri translates literally to Nine Nights.” Dedue looked at Parvati. “It celebrates the Goddess of Justice.”

Parvati nodded. “Isn’t it so timely?” She ignored Dedue’s frown. “It marks the Nine Nights of battle Goddess Durga wages against Mahish Ashur.”

“Mahish Ashur?” The Prince looked from the professor to his vassal. 

“The Buffalo Demon.” Dedue nodded. “It happens in October, in six months.” 

Parvati could see the thought pass in the glance between them: 

Six months. That is a lot of time. 

For one riddle? Six months!

Prince Dimitri said, “What is the riddle?”

He should have seen her secret smirk. He should have known. Given how brutal the first test was, why would the second be anything less? 

The professor said:

Durga Ma killed Mahish Ashur, but who killed Durga Ma?”

The Prince blinked, then turned to Dedue. 

Dedue shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Prince Dimitri muttered it again, over and over to himself. “The Goddess killed the Demon, but who killed the Goddess?”

Parvati nodded. “Bring your answer to the Goddess of Justice.” Her eyes sparkled. “Then, we will see if you are on Her side.”


Shamir was in a foul mood, and Catherine knew it. She sighed, taking her gloves off to warm her hands at the fire. The Thunderbrand glowed at her hip, giving Shamir an easy landmark as the archer made her way across the expansive camp. Catherine had told Seteth not to assign Shamir a battalion; the Distant Archer liked to work alone, surreptitiously, and didn’t want to “babysit the battalion.” Not that she had to. The Seiros Brawlers had their own leaders and their own direction. But Shamir didn’t want to have to talk to them either. 

Catherine couldn’t blame her. The Captain of the Seiros Brawlers liked to yak. And Seteth assigned them together anyway. Which meant after every joint status update, it was Catherine who would have to deal with the fallout: a Shamir sour enough to curdle milk.

“What do you want?” asked Shamir. “You called me over?” She was colder than the nip of the night. 

Catherine stood up and put her gloves on again, just in case she’d have to put her hands back on the Thunderbrand. Even with the right Crest to handle that weapon, her hand would come away with blisters from direct contact. She said, “I was thinking about Professor Parvati. What’s the plan? Now that we’re heading back…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Seteth told us to get close. How are we going to do that? A couple Knights of Seiros? Randomly hanging out with a professor? One that doesn’t even spar? It’s gonna look weird. Before, we had Randolph. Now, I don’t even know what to say to her.”    

Shamir crossed her arms. “Speak for yourself. I can be close to her without her knowing how close I am.”

Of course, thought Catherine. Shamir never intended to be friends in the first place, not even in pretense. She would simply be shadows.

“Well, that’s not going to work for me,” said Catherine. 

“Obviously,” said Shamir.

“Some help you are,” Catherine grumbled. Then she said, “What do you think of Parvati?”

“I don’t think anything. I just observe.” 

“Yeah, well, what have you observed?”

“She is very disarming.”

“Disarming?” intoned Catherine. She thought back to her time with Parvati that night.

On Prince Dimitri: That kid is such a silly! You should have seen it.

On Dedue: This is Dedue! He is a vassal to the Prince. Dedue, say hi!

In the student dorms: This room is Lady Edelgard’sCatherine thought back to the stupidly ecstatic look on the professor’s face. A few doors down: This one says Bergliez!

On walking into His Highness’s room: Wow! Is this a party in here?

On the lack of curtains: This is the Officer’s Academy? Is this really how we treat our children?

Catherine shook her head. Everything was an exclamation when it came to Parvati.

Shamir said, “Careful, Catherine.”

“What?”

“You were smiling.”

Catherine started. “I was?”   

“Just make sure you don’t become another one,” Shamir said.

“Another what?” asked Catherine. 

Shamir had started to walk away, but she stopped in her tracks and turned in a way that left Catherine certain there was something she missed. 

“Didn’t you read the end of her report?” asked Shamir.

“Her report?”

Shamir crossed her arms. “The one Seteth handed us, before assigning us to Parvati.”

Catherine flushed. “What did it say?” She countered Shamir’s expression with “Cut me some slack, Shamir. I had to go to the bathroom. Then you were done reading. Then you were in a hurry. Come on. What did it say?”

“It was about the assassin.”

“An assassin?”

“The one we sent.”

Catherine balked. “The Church sent an assassin?”

“Four years ago.” Shamir nodded. “She attacked Parvati, but failed to kill her. And then…”

Shamir fell silent for some reason. Catherine waited, then pressed on. “And then what?”

“The assassin killed herself.” 

Catherine’s heart gave a jolt. “What?

Shamir shifted her weight. “They say Parvati re-encountered her, and talked to her. And that was it. Parvati talked to her, and then the assassin killed herself, the next day.”

No way, thought Catherine, suddenly transported into the past. Into their last moment — the last words of Parvati. She’d spoken to Catherine over her shoulder, so in the lamplight, her dark skin had taken on a warm and orange glow. Her face was the shape they sculpted onto angels: rounded cheeks that curved down to the chin at a point. A delicate nose over well-defined lips. Everything soft.

— I’ll be waiting for you. —

“The fact of the matter is,” said Shamir, “she’s the most dangerous kind of person there is. She doesn’t need weapons, Catherine. She just needs words.” Shamir leveled Catherine with a look. “If you let her get inside of your head, you’ll die for her. Be careful.” 

Chapter 15: The Pact of Pan

Chapter Text

Dorothea thought their arguing would never end. She dug into her hors d’oeuvres and scanned the Reception Hall again for Manuela. She had hoped to be reunited with the former diva by now, but instead, she found herself stuck between Lady Edelgard and Ferdinand as they argued about something-something-leadership. 

“Ferdinand, control yourself,” said Lady Edelgard. “When will you tire of challenging me in pointless competitions?”

“I can quit now, if you insist on it. I will not challenge you again,” said Ferdinand.

“You expect me to believe that?”

No one expected to believe that. Petra looked back and forth between them, full of alarm, while Bernadetta moaned from where she had tucked herself into the little space between the wall and Dorothea’s back. Dorothea could feel Bernadetta breathing down her. On Dorothea’s other side, Hubert surveyed the room with his arms crossed. Many of the Black Eagles had just introduced themselves to each other, and already they recognized this was going to be a rocky path.

Dorothea sighed. She had considered roaming the room to look for Manuela, but she stayed put. Manuela undoubtedly would come to introduce herself to the Imperial Princess — as would everyone who was anyone. So it was to Dorothea’s advantage to attach herself to Lady Edelgard’s elbow, so she might be associated with the Empire’s highest circle. Thus, she huddled with six of the Black Eagles in a tight circle as all around them, hundreds of students, parents, knights and caterers roamed, pausing here and there at tall circular tables that encouraged mingling. 

Dorothea resisted the urge to put her fingers in her ears. She couldn’t hear anything over the Church’s trumpets and horns (except Ferdinand and Edelgard arguing), and she was pretty sure if she stayed here for any longer, she was going to get a headache. 

“Does anyone know where Linhardt is?” she asked. This might be her opportunity to exit the circle, go upstairs, and be somewhere farther away from those stupid Church horns. She was accustomed to being surrounded by swelling music, but that music usually had order to it, not this discordant din. They hadn’t even tuned their instruments…

Nobody responded to Dorothea. Instead, Ferdinand told the Princess, “Now that you have refused outright, I must come up with some other way of getting that which I seek.”

“I’m afraid to ask what you could possibly mean by that…” Lady Edelgard responded.

“Only that I will find some other way of showing everyone that I am superior to you.” He paused for a moment, seemingly struck by an idea. “Huh. I will write a handbill listing your accomplishments, alongside my own, more impressive accomplishments. Copyists will produce thousands of these pamphlets and distribute them far and wide. Then everyone will know about my — ”

“No, Ferdinand, you will not be doing that,” said a voice Dorothea did not yet know. 

Ferdinand looked over his shoulder and, with a quizzical look, stepped aside to make space in the circle for the speaker. The woman had a silver updo and golden earrings that fanned out wider than Dorothea could spread her hands. 

“You…” said Lady Edelgard.

The woman bowed graciously. “Welcome to Garreg Mach, Black Eagles. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Parvati Sinha, Professor of Ancient Technology.”

Ferdinand’s eyes grew round. “But of course! Parvati!”

“A professor?” said Lady Edelgard.

“Of the esteemed Enbarr Imperial University!” Ferdinand responded. He put his hands on his hips and looked at the professor. “Forsooth, I did not recognize you. I did not recognize you at all! You are not usually…” He waved at what she was wearing. “I have become accustomed to seeing you in trousers.”

The professor blinked, unsure how to respond. Then she said, “Ferdinand, would you be such the fine gentleman and bring me something to eat?”

“Of course!” he said valiantly. “No beef, if I recall correctly?”

The professor started. “You remembered! …Thank you.” She watched him depart with a small smile on her face before returning her attention to the circle. 

Petra said, “Professor! This must be the traditional dress of Duscur you are wearing? I did not know we could do that. I would have come wearing the traditional dress of Brigid if I had known we were allowed such wearing.”

“Oh yes, please do!” said Professor Parvati. “It will be nice to bring some color to these celebrations. You would think we’re at a funeral.” She gave a small shake of the head to all the black uniforms and formalwear of the parents. “This is a sari,” she said, readjusting the pleats. 

The sari she was wearing was a flash of silver splendor, with vibrant rose embroidery running up the pleats and taking over the drape over her shoulder. There was no competition. Professor Parvati’s surge of color drew eyes from conversations across the room.

“Wow,” said Dorothea. “This is beautiful. In fact, it’s perfectly operatic…”

“Are those earrings solid gold?” asked Hubert.

“The people of Duscur wear nothing less than,” she responded.

Dorothea was floored. That woman had more money hanging off of one ear than Dorothea had ever owned in her life. She could feel a heat of envy bloom inside her stomach.

Lady Edelgard started saying something, but Dorothea, suddenly impatient, interrupted. “Excuse me, Professor…do you know which House is to be taught by Manuela?”

Professor Parvati smiled. “This House.” 

Dorothea’s heart leapt. “Really?”

Professor Parvati was answering Edelgard’s question.“I will be teaching Mathematics and Ancient Technology. Professor Manuela is the Black Eagles Premier, and will be teaching combat, as well as Biology and the Healing Arts.” Then to Dorothea, the Professor said, “You must be her protégé. Dorothea?”

Dorothea nodded. 

“She sings your praises — quite literally. I look forward to working with you.” 

Dorothea flushed, pleased to be singled out in front of her classmates. 

Professor Parvati turned again to Lady Edelgard. “And of course, you must be — ”

“Oh! This is Edie,” said Dorothea, jumping in. “You already know, the Imperial princess and all. And here is Hubie — ”

“ — Hubert — ” he cut in.

“ — von Vestra, Princess Petra Macneary, Bernie — Bernadetta, get out here! — Bernadetta von Varley, and…” 

Professor Parvati nodded to each of them in turn as Dorothea then pointed to the food-laden tables. “Somewhere out there is Caspar. And of course, Linhardt von Hevring, who hasn’t come in yet.”

“And I am Ferdinand von Aegir!” Ferdinand announced himself, handing to Professor Parvati a plate furnished with yummy edibles. He frowned at Dorothea. “You remembered Linhardt and yet forgot me?”

Dorothea stuck out her tongue at him. 

The professor smiled, then gave Ferdinand a sly glance. “Wanna make money?”

“Already?” Ferdinand blinked.

Dorothea wasn’t the only one looking from one to the other. What was this?

Then Ferdinand smiled. “Need you ever ask? Let’s go.”

Professor Parvati took the arm Ferdinand offered and gave the Black Eagles a sideways curtsy. “Well! This has been pleasurable. See you tomorrow morning, when you pick up your books.”

The students nodded. Dorothea watched them depart, stunned. Professor Parvati was a commoner, wasn’t she? She made it look so natural, hanging off the arm of a nobleman. And of all of them — the son of the Prime Minister! She sent him to fetch her refreshments! …How did she do it? Dorothea had to make a good impression on her. 

Before she could call out, another student barreled into the Black Eagles circle. “Heeeey, you must be the Imperial princess!” The student introduced himself as Claude. 

Dorothea politely excused herself and weaved through the crowd after Professor Parvati.

“Professor!” Dorothea called out.

Professor Parvati slowed Ferdinand to a stop and they turned to Dorothea. Dorothea glanced at Ferdinand. Seeing that Dorothea wanted privacy, the professor unlinked her arm and moved away from him. 

When at last, Dorothea had the professor alone, she said, “Professor, I was wondering… I’m sure you know, books are so expensive. Do you think there would be any copies at the library?” She looked about herself to see if anybody else was listening, red in the face.

“Oh, Dorothea,” said Professor Parvati. “I will provide you all the books you need for free.”

“What? Oh — no — you do not have to — ”

“Do you would intend on robbing me of the chance to foist off books I’ve written?” Professor Parvati said with a mock frown. 

Dorothea smiled.

“Besides,” said Professor Parvati, “I’ll be using my research funds. I’m looking for others who take interest in the work of my life. If I can find students who would like to assist in my research, this is a small price to pay. After all, it’s people who are invaluable, I find.”

Dorothea liked the sound of that. 

“Tomorrow then?” the professor asked. She made it sound like a date.

Dorothea nodded, her heart aflutter. This…person…was just…so awesome!

“Hey, Dorothea,” Professor Parvati said. “Turn around.”

Dorothea turned around, then squealed. “Manuela!


“You look just like your mother, my dear,” Hanneman said when he saw Parvati an hour later.

She smiled. 

“Is that what you wore to your graduation?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Ma set aside these earrings for me…for that day.” She traced one of them with a finger, and looked out into the sea of students and their parents. “She never got to see me in them.”

Hanneman bowed his head to his glass of red wine. “Parvati…look where you are now. Your mother would be proud of you. Your father too. Both of them. No one imagines being invited to attend the Officer’s Academy, much less teach in it.” They surveyed the humming crowd. Then he looked back to her. “You are doing good.”

She smiled, looking down, and rubbed down the goosebumps on her arms. The afternoon heat had died away, and a cold wind snaked into the Reception Hall. Hanneman flagged down the passing catering boy and plucked a glass of champagne off his tray.

“Take this,” he said. 

Parvati gave it an inquisitive look. He had never offered her a drink before. He tended to treat her like a kid. 

“It’s liquid courage,” he said. “I simply can’t stand being surrounded by so many people.” 

She took the drink out of his hand just in time for Seteth and the punny knight Parvati had met on the first day to materialize out of the crowd. 

“Parvati! Ah! You are both here,” said Seteth, seeing Hanneman. “Perfect. There is something I must tell you.” He paused. “Oh. Wow.”

“Professor Parvati, you look astonishing!” said the knight. “What is this delightful garb?”

“Not now, Alois,” said Seteth. He looked serious. “Where is Manuela?”

“This is a sari,” Hanneman answered for Parvati. “And we don’t know.”

Parvati was grateful. Everything was happening so fast. She was unsure her voice would work with the unexpected grief inside her throat. She sipped her champagne. Seteth started to say something again, just as Catherine did a fly-by “Sorry to interrupt, but you look fantastic!” She gave Parvati two thumbs-up on her way to the food line. Shamir, following Catherine, nodded at Parvati.

It was always this way at parties, Parvati wearing something most people had never seen. She never had to move anywhere. People would come talk to her. Everyone wanted to ask about her sari, her earrings, her customs. What was the meaning of the bindi? Was that a golden necklace at her throat? Any conversation she wanted to have with anybody must first be preceded with the repeated assortment of answers to these questions. But it had always served her well when networking. She stood out, and the next day, she was remembered.

But Seteth had something important to say, which he opened his mouth to say again.

“Brother, I have heard the most remarkable news!” interrupted Flayn, bursting in with a massive grin. She announced to them that the von Hevring retinue had just come in without their liege. Why? Because, apparently, their liege had exited to use the restroom and, without telling anyone, he may have also decided to take a nap. His attendants, thinking he had returned to his carriage, left without him! 

Parvati would always remember the look on Seteth’s face when he said, “WHAT!” People chatting at surrounding tables looked curiously their way as Parvati, Flayn and Hanneman devolved into an uncontrollable laughter. 

Seteth hurried away to Catherine, who was loading food onto her plate. Catherine’s boisterous voice carried over everyone else’s as Seteth made his appeal. “No! I’m eating now! Send somebody else!” Shamir must have said something, because they then heard Catherine say, “Yeah! Send Shamir! …Whoa — Shamir, what are you doing?”

Shamir had taken out a thin Dagdan dagger, walked down the line at the table stabbing it into pieces of food, and slipped into the crowd with her makeshift shish-kebab, plucking off a roasted tomato and sausage off her dagger with her fingers as she disappeared. 

Hanneman shook his head.“That Shamir,” he said. “That woman has style.”  

Parvati nodded appreciatively. She made space for Catherine to enter the circle.  

“I can’t believe they did that,” said Catherine, referring to the von Hevring retinue.

Parvati searched for Seteth in the food line, where he’d disappeared. What did he need to say? The poor man. He had a lot on his hands. 

“This isn’t going to look good for House von Hevring,” said Hanneman. “They’ll be hearing about this for years.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Catherine laughed. 

“I’ll say!” said Alois. “I’m trying to work in a pun here, something about sleeping on the job — but in this case, the job was doing the sleeping.” 

Parvati and Flayn glanced at each other and tittered. It felt good, to be laughing this way. To feel included. To feel like — maybe the start of a new family. These were the people she would work with, for the better part of a year, if not more should Seteth renew her contract, with a track to a tenured position. What a promising start to a Garreg Mach career! 

The sun came down a few hours later. A blue curtain of stars blinked awake. It was time for the formal dinner, which the Archbishop and Viceroy would start and end with speeches and announcements. It was time to usher in the school year. Someone gave a signal. Conversations melted around tables as people reunited with their families, and then climbed the stairs in droves. 

“Parvati!” said Hanneman. “We need to be in the Dining Hall already!”

The professors would be seated at the head table with Viceroy Seteth and Archbishop Rhea. Parvati downed her second glass of champagne. She was going to need it, if she would be on display. 

“Now where is Manuela?” Hanneman searched. They struggled not to get carried away with the human tide. The Manuela they found was stumbling with her shoes in her hand. They exchanged startled glances. 

“Did you know she drinks?” whispered Parvati.

“Oh dear,” whispered Hanneman. “We haven’t even begun the opening ceremonies… Perhaps you had better go ahead. Warn Seteth we are going to be a bit late.” He was trying to put his shoulder under Manuela to help support her. 

By the gods! Parvati thought as she left Hanneman to his travail. This is not going to look good. What is she doing? She imagined what Viceroy Seteth would have to say about this. And what would Lady Rhea think? And all the parents! And with Manuela saying things like, “Hanneman, the stairs are moving. Make the stairs stop moving” and “I will have six kids, and I will name every one of them Marcus” — it was clear that Manuela was about to attract a lot of attention. 

And Parvati would have to sit next to that. In plain view. At the head table.

She felt her insides get clammy. Students and parents were mostly seated now in the three rows of tables — the Blue Lions on the left, Golden Deer in the middle, and the Black Eagles on the right. She skirted between the the Black Eagles and the Golden Deer, nodding at Dorothea when they made eye contact. She hoped she looked like she was smiling “gracefully” when it happened — as if she wasn’t feeling like the interior gunk of a turtle. 

That’s what she wanted to do right now. She wanted to turtle. Crawl into a box. Some kind of shipping container. Send herself back to Enbarr Imperial. One way.  

Instead, she had the unfortunate role of being the one to have to break the news to Seteth: not only were the professors not already seated at the table, but Hanneman was going to be hobbling in, supporting a drunk Manuela. 

“There you are, Parvati!” His eyes lit up when he saw her, like she was now his favorite professor. Parvati leaned over the head table to whisper to him. This time, he took in a deep breath, held it, and frowned, massaging his temples. A stress management ritual, it seemed. Lady Rhea, from his other side, leaned in to hear what they were saying. “Very well,” said Seteth, “we will simply wait until the very end to announce professor assignments.” He turned to Lady Rhea and recommended starting the ceremony. “It will keep people distracted while Hanneman brings in Manuela.” 

Parvati considered herself dismissed and took a seat at the far end of the table, in front of the Black Eagles table. As Seteth began making his announcements, she scanned rows and rows of parents and students. Her mind wandered and she stifled a yawn. She spotted Claude and Helga, amidst the Golden Deer, and dared not look past the middle of the room, in the Blue Lions’ direction. If Prince Dimitri or Dedue were looking her way — or any of the Faerghusi — she did not want to know. 

There were announcements about training grounds and student dorms. Parvati found herself glad her meal, already presented at her spot, was hidden under a steel lid. She wasn’t hungry after all of the appetizers…and the smell of more food would make her nauseous. She was so full… She stifled a yawn. She wasn’t…hungry… 

Don’t fall asleep, said the voice in the back of her head. Don’t fall asleep. Just as she expected, she hadn’t been able to sleep last night due to all of the anticipation. But she hadn’t slept the last few nights either, struggling to finish lesson plans and, though she was begrudged to admit it, worrying about Prince Dimitri. But Seteth’s voice…was so…soothing…it could just…lull her..to sleep…

She started at a round of applause. How long had she fallen asleep? Hanneman and Manuela were beside her now, already seated. When did they get here? When did that happen? The parents and students — they must have seen her. Snoozing! There was no way for them not to notice, since, for a time, she had been the only professor at the table! 

This was Parvati’s whole life. A (generally) impressive outwards show of grace, and an internal world of panic. 

Parvati imagined melting into her seat. She couldn’t wait for this thing to be done. Why couldn’t everything be over already so she could just go back to her bed and hide? This wasn’t her show, so she didn’t care what happened. 

The Archbishop and Seteth must have just finished opening speeches, for the Dining Hall filled with the murmur of conversation and the sound of serving covers moving off of their respective plates. People motioned to each other with a cacophony of steel lids scraping off of plates and being stacked together. Manuela squealed delightful approval of dinner: a Dagdan lamb offering. And ten minutes into it, Seteth noticed Parvati’s lid stayed untouched. 

“Is it not to your liking, Parvati?” he asked. He ushered forth their personal caterer.

“N-No! I am actually not hungry. I can just wait for dessert.”

Seteth eyed her from down the table. “You want to make your dinner — dessert?” 

Suddenly put on, Parvati smiled at him, big and wide. 

“You sound like Flayn.” After a sigh, he said, “Very well. You are an adult. And you are a professor here.” He sounded like he was saying this to himself. He directed the caterer to take Parvati’s plate away. 

Hanneman sniffed into mustache. “Already shaping up to be a memorable year…”

“I would like it to be less memorable already,” grumbled Seteth. “Did they find Linhardt?”


When the Viceroy rose out of his seat again, the Dining Hall came to an abrupt silence. He said, “At last, our final announcement. You have already been introduced to your Officer’s Academy Professors. We reveal to you now which professor shall lead each house: our Three House Premiers.”

Parvati looked down at the Black Eagles students. Oops. She didn’t realize this was supposed cause for so much excitement. Was it a secret? Was she not supposed to tell the Black Eagles?

“The Golden Deer, this year, shall be led by Dr. Hanneman von Essar.” 

Hanneman rose from his seat on Seteth’s left, to a round of applause and enthusiastic cheering.

“The Black Eagles Premier for this year…is Dr. Manuela Casagranda.” 

Parvati cheered with the crowd as the diva rose. Manuela may have been new, but her name was known. People from all across the crowd elicited ear-splitting whistles. Parvati laughed and clapped. Then it occurred to her — she leaned back in her chair to look down the table — where was Aelfric? 

“And finally, by Pact of Pan…the Blue Lions Premier this year…will be Dr. Parvati Sinha.” 

She was clapping politely before she realized what he had said. The roar of applause became deafening. She felt like she was moving underwater as she looked back down the head table. Hanneman and Manuela both looked at her, thunderstruck. Behind them, Seteth, motioned for her to rise out of her seat. 

And past all of them, at the front of the Blue Lions table — Prince Dimitri, electric eyes and a smug grin. He mouthed the words: “I got you.” 


“Where is Aelfric? How is this possible?” asked Hanneman, turning immediately on Seteth.

“I’m not a combat instructor. I didn’t apply for this position!” tagged along Parvati. 

The rounds of applause had been overtaken by the sound of benches scraping and an explosion of chatter. Parvati dared not look towards the Blue Lions table. The front had been manned by the students — the first time she had even looked at them — but it was what she saw down the rest of the table that filled her with a fresh wave of terror. 

It was the Blue Lions’ parents. Fraldarius. Gautier. Gaspard. Galatea. 

None of them talking.

Parvati regretted glancing their way. So this was what Seteth had been trying to tell them, hours ago. This is what he meant!

Manuela, suddenly sober, crowded Seteth with Parvati and Hanneman. “Viceroy, I have already seen the way the Faerghusi treat Parvati — even before school began. Don’t you think it’s better to give the Black Eagles to Parvati? I can handle the Blue Lions.”

In that moment, Parvati could have given her Soul for this woman. Beside her, Hanneman, too, nearly melted. He said, “Manuela! Good idea! Or — Seteth, I can take them. Whatever will work.”

“That won’t work,” said Seteth, holding his hands up to silence them. “I didn’t have the chance to tell you... Professor Parvati, the Prince of Faerghus has invoked the Pan I.”

“Pan one?” asked Manuela. 

“Apologies,” said Seteth. “The Pan I Covenant.” 

Hanneman furrowed his brows. “The Pan I Covenant, also known as the Pact of Pan, was an agreement between the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and the Church. It grants the Kingdom of Faerghus the right to choose advisors from the Church. It was introduced as a ‘token of appreciation’ for the fact that the Kingdom continues to be the Church’s most ardent supporters.” 

“But I am not part of the Church,” Parvati resisted. 

“This is true,” said Seteth. “And the Covenant was originally designed to provide Church leaders and religious guidance in mind. However, several decades ago, it was used to request a teacher in the Officer’s Academy, appealing to her stringent faith. She was an advisor, an ardent follower, a religious leader, and she agreed to it, so it was allowed. This unfortunately led to the side effect of establishing precedence for the Blue Lions to be able to choose their Premier.”

“You mean a loop hole,” argued Parvati. 

Seteth winced. “Yes...I know many see it that way.”

“And the other Houses?” said Manuela, “Cant’ Lady Edelgard or Lord Claude submit a competing interest?”

“No.” Seteth shook his head. “Only the Kingdom of Faerghus is awarded this privilege, to reward their faith.”  

Parvati stared into the distance as her new reality sank in. She was getting dizzy.

The Prince requested her. No, Prince Dimitri demanded her. Even after she rejected him. 

Her own words came back to her. You get an F, Your Highness. Now fear curled through her veins. What was this, a show of power? She watched him talk to the other Blue Lions.

Seteth stepped past Hanneman and Manuela towards her. He said, “Professor Parvati, being awarded the Pact of Pan is an extraordinary honor. I’ve — actually never seen it happen in my life. It is an award and a title the Prince bestows upon you, and it does not happen often. It signals to all that hear of it that you are the future King’s Chosen — and with it, his reputation is with yours aligned.”

Parvati’s eyes slid back to the Blue Lions parents. She wasn’t the only one unhappy about this.

Lady Rhea came to stand beside Seteth. Something about this act made Parvati step back. They both were giants towering above her. In the light of the day, these were such beautiful people. So trustworthy. But in this firelight…

Parvati’s heart pounded. There were new shadows upon their faces. 

“Do not be afraid, Professor Parvati,” said Lady Rhea, “for this also means the Prince’s name will protect you. Take comfort.” 

A shiver ran down Parvati’s spine. There was something unnerving about the way Lady Rhea was looking down at her. There’s…something wrong with them, thought Parvati, looking from the Viceroy to the Archbishop. There’s…something wrong…

“At the same time,” said the Archbishop, “use it wisely, and guard it well.”

Parvati swallowed. Now that the Archbishop had spoken, she had no choice, so she said, “I will.”

 

Chapter 16: The Open Door

Chapter Text

Seteth found Parvati crying in his office the next morning. He halted, surprised she had been able to get in. Did he forget to lock it? He stepped forward. “Parvati?”

She jumped, startled. Another curiosity. How long had she been here? To have gotten so comfortable alone? She cleared her throat. “Viceroy.”

“What is wrong?” asked Seteth. She was holding an envelope. Did something happen to Randolph?

To his surprise, she held the envelope out to him. “Apologies, Seteth. My letter of resignation.”

“I — ” His eyes widened. “What? 

Parvati shook her head. “It’s not you, Seteth. It’s not — ” She proffered her hands up to indicate his office. “It isn’t Garreg Mach. This place is…as grand as Hanneman said it is.”

“Then what is it?” He tore through the envelope to the letter inside, scrawled in uneven hand, and tear drop punctuation. It thanked him for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, for the promise of the museum, and halfway through, apologies for dreaming too big. He looked back up at her. “Parvati, what happened?”

She wiped her cheeks. “I am sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” She told him she had seen the way the Blue Lions parents looked at her last night. She couldn’t stand the idea of holding parent-teacher conferences with them.

He said, “Then you won’t have to. I’ll do them.”

She blinked. Then she said, “I do not have battle skills. I can’t lead the Blue Lions out to battle.”

He said, “Of course not. The Knights of Seiros can take your place.”

“Oh! W-Well, that is all and good…” She blinked, thrown off, then looked away. 

Seteth watched her brush tears out of her lashes. He had to appease her. He was prepared to do anything to prevent her from leaving. Otherwise, Rhea would make her disappear…and disappear all too quickly. It would be an incident…the type he didn’t want to handle. 

Plus, if she left, they wouldn’t have a Blue Lions Premier. What a disaster. 

Finally, she said, “I…am afraid…about my involvement with the Prince. The Tragedy of Duscur…” She looked up again. “If something happens to him, I don’t want to be…the one they are pointing at…” 

Seteth became quiet. He didn’t know much about the Tragedy of Duscur, as he hadn’t been a part of handling the Church’s response to that one. But he did recall that the Faerghusi believed there were Duscuri amongst the people who assassinated their last King… Seteth narrowed his eyes…the father of the Prince…

“Professor Parvati,” said Seteth.

She met his eyes. 

“This is Garreg Mach Monastery. The headquarters of the Church of Seiros. Defended by the most excellent security force. It is why gentry all across the continent feel safe sending their children here. Do you imagine, do you truly imagine, that we would let something happen to the Prince here?”

Parvati’s eyes grew wide. “No, no, no, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Have you so little faith?”

Parvati was quiet. 

Seteth added, “And I do not enjoy saying it this way, but, Prince Dimitri has selected Dedue as his second-in-command, his Adjutant. Your involvement with the Prince of Faerghus is not going to worsen the Duscuri people’s chances.”

From the way she was now looking at Seteth, he sensed for a moment she hated him. All the goodwill he had just won from her just vanished. She was cold as she responded, “It doesn’t matter. I will have no part in it.”

She turned to leave as he called out to her. “Parvati! You are in the unique position of advising the Prince! The Prince of Faerghus! Surely this is the greatest power a Duscuri person has to protect their people! If they can advise him to be sympathetic to a restoration of Duscur.”

She kept walking away. He was bewildered. Surely, this was greater than anything he and the Officer’s Academy had ever been offering! He asked, “How can you walk away from this?”

She paused. “Seteth. Do you have any idea what it is like to lose your people? Your culture? Your land? That home that was yours — I had a home in Duscur, my grandmother’s — and there’s other people living in it. And the world is okay with that?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Just moving on, like it’s okay for us to be erased from the world? Like we don’t matter? As if we never existed?”

This hit Seteth like a punch in the gut. He couldn’t say anything. He knew this. He knew all of these things. As one of the last, handful of Nabateans, forever hunted by Agarthans… But she took his silence for no and resumed walking to the door. Her hand had reached the doorknob when he could finally say it. 

“Parvati. I know what it feels like to be prey.”

That struck a chord in her. It stopped her in her tracks.

He said, “Parvati. Come back here.”

She turned, but remained there, staring at the ground, so he went to her instead. “Now. Tell me the truth. What happened? Why would you leave?”

She opened her mouth, looked at him, looked back down and shook her head. “The Prince of Faerghus threatened me.”

Seteth blinked. “He — what?” Seteth’s thoughts, so far all abuzz, vanished from his head. 

She looked at the door.

Seteth said, “Whatever you have to say you can say to me without fear of other ears. That door has a Silence seal.”

She nodded. “That makes sense.” 

She lapsed back into silence as Seteth thought about what she had just revealed. The Prince…? Threatening faculty? At the center of power of the Church of Seiros? Under his supervision? 

So fearless? With no regard? To the institution both hosting him and wielding such power over all of them? 

Over him, the future Duke, the future Empress, and all of the nobility. It was the Church of Seiros that was the greatest power in the Oghma mountains. Not the Kingdom. Not the Alliance. Not the Empire. 

Was Prince Dimitri clean out of his mind?

Meanwhile, it looked like Parvati had decided something. “My fears regarding the Tragedy of Duscur,” she said finally, “they didn’t come from nowhere. The Prince is looking into it, investigating it…” 

Seteth frowned. “Investigating what?”

“He says it wasn’t the Duscuri, so who? It’s killing him not to know what happened to his parents…” She paused, looking like she realized something. Then she looked back at him. “He tried to incorporate me into his investigation. But I refused. And then he threatened me. To try to secure my cooperation.”

Seteth’s mouth dropped open. It suddenly made sense. In his mind’s eye, he was transported back to the moment of the Prince’s inquiry, when he had demanded Seteth make Parvati his Blue Lions Premier. Prince Dimitri…his eyes were so fierce.

Seteth had asked, “Why?” He himself had mentioned Parvati had no battle training.

And at this, Prince Dimitri gave him a smug grin. “Lord Viceroy. Battle prowess isn’t everything.”

Seteth had been mighty impressed then. Prince Dimitri had piqued his curiosity. Who was this seventeen year-old child, who looked so suddenly wise against the backdrop of his compatriots, the other OA kids? The Viceroy had chalked it up to the hard life the Prince led, the loneliness — and lessons he had paid an impossible price to learn.  

And now, the Prince fell short of Seteth’s hopes…but not of expectations.  

“Now do you see?” asked Parvati. “Isn’t it obvious? Why he selected me to be his Premier?”

Seteth nodded. Then he was quiet for a long time, diving into a rabbit hole of implications. He stopped himself, thinking, I am only hearing one side of the story. So he told her, “Tell me exactly. Tell me exactly what he said.”

He had too many thoughts running in his head to notice how carefully Parvati was wording it. 

“He demanded I tell him everything I knew of the Tragedy of Duscur. I insisted the Duscuri were not there, but I couldn’t know for sure who did it. At some point, I said,‘You’re stabbing me in the back, Dedue,’ and the Prince responded, ‘No, Professor. If you ever cross Dedue, he will stab you in the front. I promise.’”

Seteth stared at her.

Parvati shrugged. “That is what he said, word for word. It is a pretty unforgettable line.”

Seteth nodded. “That it is.” He considered his options for a moment, then said, “Parvati, stay here. I am bringing the Prince.”

Her face lit with alarm. “What? Seteth, no!”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “We have to rectify this behavior. He is a future power of Fódlan, and right now, we are his advisors. If he must change…now is when we have the time. If he can threaten a faculty member of Garreg Mach, here, in the haven of the Church of Seiros, if he has the gall to do that…what will he do to the rest of the continent, with his power?”

Parvati’s eyes widened. She looked away. 

“I won’t ask you why you did not come to me,” said Seteth. “I understand why. I only regret I did not make it clear to you earlier: I am here to act as your resource and support. You are a commoner, as I am, and too often, it is not for us to speak against them. But the Officer’s Academy lends us a different dynamic. I did not make plain what disciplinary power you wield over these noble children. I took too much for granted, knowing your background as a sponsored academic communing with nobility.” 

That, thought Seteth, and the fact that he had considered her to be temporary. She was just supposed to be an auxiliary professor. He had no idea he needed to prepare her this way.

He said, “I failed to provide you with behavioral training on how to address these nobles. For this, I am sorry.”

Parvati blinked. 

“If you give me time, I will rectify this failing. But first, I must address the Prince. This is urgent.”

Parvati pursed her lips and regarded him carefully, then nodded. 

He paused when he opened the door. “I am leaving the door open. But I would like to trust…that when I come back, you will be here.”

And with that, he gave her a parting nod, and set off to find the Prince.

 


 

Parvati loitered in Seteth’s office in much the same way as before he came. She looked at the Goddess figurines on the bookshelves, behind them, tomes with gold-letter spines, the glittering Sacred Lady in the stained glass windows. In all that time, her heart did not stop pounding. The Prince was coming, here. Seteth would confront him. She…would be confront him. That’s what it meant, right? Being here?  

In Seteth’s presence, Parvati had taken comfort. But within moments after he left, she remembered the chill in his office. She shuddered. No wonder Seteth was rarely in. The Audience Chamber was much warmer. And full of warmth, and souls. 

She returned to the desk to review the resignation letter again. Was it polite enough? It was written in haste. Did it properly convey to the Viceroy the respect he deserved? That’s when she saw her name. He had come in with a pile of papers, and set them down upon the desk while they had been talking, had discarded the envelope from her letter of resignation upon the top page page of the papers. And there, around the corner of the envelope, written upon that page, was her name. 

She plucked off the envelope.

It was a set of instructions. The top page was inherently a manual for things she must do on the first day, with announcements about mock battles and certification exams. On the other side was a condensed checklist. The next page was Day 2 and Day 3, and as she flipped through more pages, she found more instructions for the upcoming weeks.

Parvati blinked. She knew this handwriting. Did Seteth write this? Did he honestly choose this as the way he spent last night?

She felt a surge of gratefulness. She’d been surprised. He had responded very positively, with solutions for everything she said. He was so willing to help her. Without belittling. He listened to her problems. And as she set down her letter of resignation again, she realized, Seteth was a good boss. Too bad. He would probably have been very good to work with. She fell into reading through the checklist, forgetting for a moment that the Prince would be arriving soon.

And then there was the click of boots — the Prince’s heels had a distinctive clip. She felt eyes upon her back. Parvati didn’t look up. She didn’t want to see the Prince. But she couldn’t help it. She looked over her shoulder, not for the Prince, but to see the Viceroy come in. He gave a small smile in acknowledgement. 

She looked back down to the checklist.

“Ah! There you are!” said the Prince. 

Parvati’s brows rose. He sounded quite chipper. He was happy to see her. Clearly, the Viceroy had not yet told him anything.

Then, instead of taking a seat behind his desk, Seteth came to her and held out his hand. 

“Oh! Sorry,” she said, flustered, holding out the manual. She’d taken it without permission.

But that wasn’t what he was looking for. What he was looking for he plucked off his desk and handed to the Prince. “Your Highness. Do you understand what this is?”

The Prince’s eyes went wide. He turned to her. “What is this?” he asked, in a tone that clearly implied a different question was: “What is the meaning of this?”

It was her letter of resignation. Parvati’s eyes widened. That was what Seteth had casually handed him. Her letter of resignation.

Seteth crossed his arms. “Yes, Prince Dimitri. I was hoping you might inform me as to why I received this from Professor Parvati on her very first day.”

Dimitri looked like he found himself in the middle of a pop quiz.

Seteth said, “I will have you know that there are not many students who make a professor react in this way. In fact, in over fifteen years of experience — none.”

Dimitri looked puzzled. “Do I have something to do with this?”

Seteth cocked his head. “Do you?”

Parvati almost chuckled. Seteth did not give. She did not want to be on the other side of such an interrogation. 

Dimitri’s eyes went from Parvati to Seteth to Parvati to Seteth like a child caught by his parents amidst a forbidden act. He opened his mouth, then he closed it. 

“Do you need a hint, Your Highness?”

“I — yes, please.”

Parvati almost scoffed. Was he serious?

Seteth looked at the clock. “We do not have much time, Your Highness, so I will be forthright: is it true that you threatened Professor Parvati?”

The Prince’s eyes bugged out. “What? No!” 

Parvati cried out. What? He was denying it? Wow. This was bad. This was really bad. She glanced at Seteth. Who would the Viceroy believe?

But Seteth marched on unfazed. “Let me rephrase that question. ‘If you cross Dedue, he will stab you.’ Is this something you have said, Prince Dimitri?”

Now came recognition into his face. “That — That is — not what I meant!”

“And what did you mean, Your Highness? If it wasn’t a threat, what exactly did you mean?”

“I… I was just being proud of him.”

The Viceroy and the professor both stared at the Prince. Seteth said, “What?”

The Prince cleared his throat. “I was just making the claim: no one could best my right hand man.”

Parvati squinted at him really hard. What was this bakwas coming out of him? Was he remembering correctly? Did the two of them even live through the same moment? Her head whirled. It did not occur to her that the Prince could remember things completely differently. Or — apparently — not even at all. 

The Prince looked worried to see this was not sufficient. He added, “Professor Parvati would never cross Dedue. That is beyond imagining. It is not a concern I thought she would ever have to deal with. So you see?” He looked at Parvati. “It could not possibly be a threat.”

At this point, Seteth, too, was rendered speechless. 

The Prince turned red. “My apologies. I am…known to be awkward, and poor company.” 

Seteth furrowed his brow and shook his head. “No, Your Highness. That is not it at all.”

Prince Dimitri looked taken aback. “Then what is ‘it’?” He frowned.

Parvati looked at Seteth nervously. Was it wise to so directly contradict the Prince?

“Your Highness. You are the future king of Faerghus. There is not a person in the world who will hear such words and not take them seriously: at face value, as a threat. I know not if you uttered it in jest, but these are not jokes coming from a prince.”

Prince Dimitri looked down. The color from his face was draining.

“Anyone who must follow you would only do so with resentment. Is that what you want?”

The Prince shook his head no.

“And how terrifying it must have been.”  

For a moment, both Seteth and Prince Dimitri’s eyes fell on her. Parvati grew distinctly uncomfortable in their gaze.

“You are tasked with great power, Prince Dimitri. But this?” Seteth’s mouth formed into a line. “What an absolute abuse of your power. I am sickened to think I was made a part of it.”

The Prince’s mouth dropped open. His eyes were glimmering. 

“Are you parted from your senses? You come to Garreg Mach, and threaten my faculty? I have never — ”

“Seteth.” Parvati put a hand on his arm to stop him. She indicated the Prince.

Prince Dimitri had a tear running silently down his face. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Are we finished?” he asked. He braced himself as he said it. “Sir, am I expelled?” 

Seteth pursed his lips. “Had you been anyone else…”

“Anyone else…” The Prince gave a bitter smile. "I wish…” He looked towards the heavens. “I wonder what Father would think of me now.”

Seteth was quiet.

“Lord Viceroy, there are two men of Blaiddyd preceding me,” continued Prince Dimitri. “My father, and my uncle.”

Parvati frowned, wondering where this was going. By his uncle, he was referring to the late king’s elder brother. Regent Rufus was ruling Faerghus until the Prince could be coronated. 

Prince Dimitri said, “All this time, I was certain I would be great and honorable, like my father. But now…” He looked away. “Now I think…perhaps I am my uncle after all. Scum.” 

Yes. She had heard of that man. There were not many who hadn’t heard of that man. And of course, Parvati had taken a special interest, to determine his role in it, in the Tragedy. But this…

“Prince Dimitri…” Parvati stepped forward.

The Prince looked her way. She hadn’t said a single thing to him this entire exchange. Now that she spoke, he awaited her, hanging on to what she would say next. The weight of his expectations shut her mouth. But what could she say? What could possibly be the right thing to say in this moment? In some moments, there was no right thing to say…

But there was touch. A hand on a shoulder, the squeeze of a hand. But she was a mere commoner, and he was the Prince of Faerghus, and it would be inappropriate. She was a woman and he was a man; it would be misconstrued. “What would people think?” stopped her hand from reaching him.

But he was still a child. Beneath the terrifying man he had the potential of becoming, he was still that child swirling chopsticks in his ramen, who had come to her with bright eyes, to plead she help him learn what happened to his parents. The good was in him, this she had seen. But she had forgotten it. In that evening, she had seen the glimpse of a man he might become, and she forgot everything, everything else about him, everything else that contradicted the person that he was in that moment. 

And now that she had been silent too long, the Prince looked away. His voice broke as he added, “I don’t want to be him.”

“You’re not,” said Parvati simply. “And you’re not going to be.” It was a truth so obvious, it came out of her before she could stop herself. As was, apparently, the hand she had placed on the Prince’s cheek, to pass a thumb across his tears. 

She retracted her hand instantly, glancing Seteth’s way. “I’m sorry!” 

“No need, Professor,” he smiled. “It is heartening to see you view him this way.” 

She was at a loss until Seteth explained. 

“Professor Parvati, I think it is clear: Prince Dimitri made a mistake. He did not mean to threaten you. He does not understand the true extent of his power. This is something I can work with him to correct…if he should like to work with me to correct it?” he consulted the Prince.

“Yes! Immediately!” The Prince brightened.

“Well, then, apologize to her!” said Seteth, as if he had been waiting for this for ages. 

The Prince bowed to her. Parvati’s heart transported itself into her esophagus as she glanced wide-eyed at Seteth. Was this really happening?

“Professor Parvati, I am a fool!” said Prince Dimitri. “I am terribly sorry, and apparently, the thickest of the thickest. Please, forgive me!”  

“Well then, we have his answer.” Seteth turned next to Parvati. He extended to her the letter of resignation she had handed him. “Professor Parvati, will you be here to see him through it? If not, I will exchange you this for that onboarding packet.”

Parvati looked down. She was still holding the instructions he had written for her. She looked from his composed, albeit small, handwriting, to the swift, swirling scrawl of her own in his hands. “I…” The room seemed to whirl around her, but when she looked from the hope in the Prince’s eyes to the knowing look on Seteth’s face, it locked into place and she stepped back and hugged the packet. “Perhaps I’ll stay.”

“Oh, thank the Goddess!” murmured the Prince as Seteth nodded. 

“This issue is settled, then?” Seteth asked her.

Parvati nodded. 

“Good!” he said. “For we are already late! Hanneman, Manuela, and the other House Leaders are waiting. Now, I do think you wound up reading the first page in the packet?”

With that, the Viceroy led the two out of his office, the Prince and Blue Lions Premier exchanging tentative smiles behind him.  

That night, the Prince found himself in the cathedral, putting his hands together in thanks to the Goddess. Seteth found himself rereading the letter of resignation again before folding it back into thirds and tucking it, like a bookmark, into a book from the private shelves of his apartment. And Professor Parvati…

Parvati, who was still a professor, placed Seteth’s packet upon her bedside table. Her fingers traced the blocked letters of the word Premier as she saw in her mind the Viceroy’s earnestness as he urged the Prince. When he had left her to go find the Prince, she was fairly certain he was insane, but now…

She shook her head. A minor miracle… No! What he had performed today was a miracle in full. That he could reconcile herself and the Prince, when she was already quitting, when she’d made her decision… That he would vouch for her, against royalty — an act that took no small amount of courage! That he could imagine, in the most remote of moments, that it could be worth an attempt to reason with a prince… 

Parvati’s heart thrummed in her chest. Seteth was second-in-command of Seirosi faith. She wondered if that was how he managed to still have faith in people, for the Tragedy of Duscur had shattered her own. 

I am leaving the door open, he said, but I would like to trust…that when I come back, you will be here.

Parvati crawled into bed and drew her covers to her chin, staring into the dark, and into futures unknown. She hadn’t answered him then, but, as her eyes came closed, something willed her now to say into the dark, “I will.”

Chapter 17: Q.E.D.

Notes:

Make way, make way. The Blue Lions are coming in, and they are coming in in a big way. Some of you have already received the link to this full chapter, so you already know what I’m talking about. 

For the rest of y’all, reach out to me to get the full impact, as this is the first chapter I have added redactions. I tried to keep them absolutely minimal so you can still get the gist, but there is just no replacing a mic-drop moment. 🖐🏽 🎤

Here’s how to reach me! Drop a comment with your deets and I’ll contact you, or —

Email: [email protected] 

Discord: quarantinedExtrovert#3715

Chapter Text

It was Day One at the Officer’s Academy and Ashe of Gaspard had already messed up. He had slept through Book Pickup. He couldn’t believe it. With no books and no breakfast, he hurtled into the Blue Lions Classroom for his first Advisory. 

He looked around. No professor yet. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had made it, just in time.

Somehow.

Something gave him cause to sniff the air. Someone had cookies. He knew it. He couldn’t place where it was, but he felt his stomach growl. Oh boy! That won’t be good for a first impression…

The front two rows were already mostly populated with everyone else, two students to a table. Everyone else was already seated, either quietly chattering like the two girls in the front row, or rearranging their notebooks and pencils, or flipping through textbooks, stopping at pages with images to get a peek at what their future held. He decided against sitting in the third row. That would attract too much attention — he’d be the only student sitting there — so he set his messenger bag down on the wooden table next to who he recalled was Felix, the black-haired student who didn’t say anything at dinner yesterday. 

The moment he sat down, he knew he’d made a mistake. 

“Why did he pick her?” Felix demanded. “He does realize she’s the only professor with no combat experience.”

“And she’s the new professor,” said the blonde girl sitting in front of Ashe. “Did he want us to be her guinea pigs?”

It occurred to Ashe that Professor Parvati wasn’t the only new professor this year, but he said nothing as the cute girl from dinner piped in.

“Oh come on, guys!” She turned in her chair to address them. “This professor is famous! You didn’t know, I bet, but her parents discovered the ruins of an Agarthan site. The one that happens to be the biggest!”

Then she met eyes with Ashe and his heart jumped. What was her name — Annie? Or — Annette? Well, it was one of them. He looked down and started taking a notebook out of his messenger bag, feeling his face get warm.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care what her parents have done,” said Felix. “I’m not learning from them, am I? This whole class will be such a waste of time. I should just go back to the Training Grounds. Or find Catherine.”

This guy also made Ashe’s heart jump — for entirely different reasons. Ashe was already afraid of Professor Parvati. Only one week ago, Lord Lonato had caught Ashe talking to the her in the Cathedral. With the way Lord Lonato had treated her, Ashe wouldn’t be surprised if he was already on Professor Parvati’s — how would his foul-mouthed little sister say it? — “shitlist.” Now Ashe was sitting next to the one person who would probably attract most of her attention, and not in a good way.

“I hate to say it, but Felix does have a point,” said the tall red-haired guy sitting next to the blonde-haired girl. He linked his arms behind his head in a picture-perfect pose of relaxation as he said, “That is, for everyone else. The reason I’m in the front row is because that woman is gorgeous. There’s no way she can waste a single minute — not of my time, that is.”

Annette and the girl beside her exchanged uncomfortable glances. 

The blonde girl sitting beside the womanizer gave a disgusted groan. “Ugh. I should have known better.” She leveled him with a look. “Sylvain, you haven’t changed.”

“Hey, it’s all voluntary seating,” Sylvain responded. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have you sit here, Ingrid.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Someone has to keep track of you.”

“Well, it could be some other someone.”

Ashe thought, No, thank you. So this was Sylvain… This must be the skirt-chaser the Prince had been talking about. 

Speaking of which — Ashe looked around — he realized the Prince wasn’t here. Which would make sense, since Felix and Ingrid had been talking about him, asking why the Prince had chosen Professor Parvati. The tall Duscuri student Ashe had seen with the Prince was sitting alone in the seat behind Annette. The Prince would probably take a seat beside him. Ashe looked back towards the door. The Premier and House Leader were late. Ashe wondered if they were wrapping up details.

“I think it will be fine,” said the girl beside Annette. “This is the Officer’s Academy. They know what they are doing.” 

Now Ashe remembered her name — Mercedes. She and Annette were the two sweet girls at the table, so kind and relaxed. That was a relief to Ashe. The others seemed surly or prickly and excitable. These two, at least, were approachable.

Mercedes went on, “And she looked so happy, cheering the other professors on. I think she is a good person…even if, in the end, she turned out intimidating.”

“Intimidating is an interesting way to put it,” said Ingrid. “We all saw her expression at the dinner yesterday. Right after Viceroy Seteth announced her position.”

“I admit that was a little disconcerting…” said Annette. 

“The look that passed between her and the Prince,” Sylvain said. “She looked pissed. What did he do?” 

“He didn’t do anything. I am sure,” stated Ingrid. “She’d most likely never seen him before. What did you expect? That woman is of Duscur. She is a threat to the Prince. For that look? I would have cut her down where she stood.”

Sylvain’s eyes widened as he glanced at the Duscuri student. “Be careful, Ingrid. That woman may be of Duscur, but so is Dedue.” 

Ingrid’s response was evident on her face: “So?”

Sylvain glanced at the door. “You don’t want His Highness to hear you say those things.” 

Ingrid crossed her arms, giving Sylvain a befuddled look. “How can you say that, Sylvain? We have to help him. His Highness needs to learn to accept the truth when he hears it.” 

Sylvain blinked. “The truth?”

Ingrid nodded. “That his revenge is done. The Duscuri have been punished already. It’s time he starts looking to the future.” At Sylvain’s expression, she added, “Stop indulging him, Sylvain. Stop playing up his fantasies. The Knights of Faerghus rose up in his plight and enacted a just revenge for His Highness.” 

A just revenge? thought Ashe. He knew what she was referring to: the Duscuri were said to have assassinated the Faerghusi King four years ago, at what was meant to be peace negotiations they had invited him to. The Faerghusi retaliated. They invaded Duscur and toppled the Old Republic, destroying monuments and razing down many ancient temples along the way. They then annexed it as a new Faerghusi state: the new County of Kleiman. Ashe couldn’t forgive anyone responsible for assassinating his King, but he couldn’t understand how massacring their people was a solution to anything. 

After all… Ashe looked about himself, feeling palpably the difference now: everyone around him was born nobility. They were inheritors to a House, or at least a Crest. But Ashe was not.

Ashe wasn’t like the other students. He was born a commoner, and when he learned what happened in Duscur, Ashe had learned one thing: when nobles raged overhead, it was commoner blood on which they fed — no matter what side, no matter what race, no matter what purpose. It was the commoners that paid for what nobles did. So if Duscur’s leadership truly were behind the assassination…Ashe glanced over to Dedue…then it was people like Dedue who paid for it.

Ashe frowned. What was Dedue doing? He was just — sitting there — stone-faced, hands clasped together as he stared at blackboard behind the professor’s table. Why was he doing that? Why was he silent? Wasn’t he going to saying anything?

Ashe swallowed and looked at Annette and Mercedes. Were they all just going to let this happen? When he matched their eyes, they both looked away. He didn’t blame them. What could he say? After what happened in the Cathedral… His stomach turned with dread.

Then Sylvain said, “Ingrid. Cut it out.” He put his arms down and rested them on the table as he looked at her seriously. “Don’t act like it’s some glorious thing. The Duscuri weren’t the problem. If they really killed King Lambert, they were decoys at best. Scapegoats. Used by someone else.”

“Ugh, enough with that line!” Ingrid frowned. “If the Duscuri weren’t there, why would our knights be lying? Answer me that, Sylvain!”

Sylvain had no answer.

“The Prince should be at peace,” Ingrid said somberly. “He needs to stop wasting time. It is time to look forward, to the future.” She turned to Felix. “Don’t you have anything to say to this?” 

The question What? was plain upon Felix’s face.

Ingrid said, “Your brother was killed by them.”

Felix scoffed. “My brother got killed because he was stupid enough to be a knight.”

Ingrid blinked. That was clearly not what she was expecting. Before she could speak, however, Annette spoke.

“Felix… Don’t say that.”

Felix glared at her. “Why? Because your father was a knight?”

Mercedes glanced between Annette and Felix. 

Felix continued. “That’s what took him away from you too, wasn’t it? First, when he was with his King, he was never at home. Then, when he lost his King, he abandoned his home. Isn’t it true, Annette?” 

Her eyes fell away. 

“Or do you have an alternative way to see it?”

“Annette doesn’t deserve this, Felix,” said Sylvain. Her eyes filled with a film of water. 

Felix said, “You’re right, Sylvain. She isn’t Gustave. I’ll let Gustave hear it instead. But was I just seeing things? Or did I actually see him here, last night?”

Mercedes said, “Felix, please.” She put a hand on Annette’s shoulder. “Please stop talking.”

Felix crossed his arms. “Hmph.” 

A dissatisfied silence fell upon them.

Ashe looked from one to the next. He didn’t know what was going on, but it seemed like all of the rest of them knew each other already. And knew each other very well. It made him nervous. He was the new one. He didn’t know. He had known that four of his classmates — Prince Dimitri, Sylvain Gautier, Felix Fraldarius, and Ingrid Galatea were already childhood friends, but he didn’t know how Annette and Mercedes connected to them. And he didn’t realize they already knew Dedue. He hadn’t even known everyone’s names until this morning!

And now his head was swimming as he took stock of the rest of the Blue Lions: Sylvain looked frustrated, Ingrid unhappy, Annette crying, Dedue stone-faced, Felix simmering, and Mercedes still sending warning glares at Felix. He couldn’t tell them apart yesterday, but he was starting to get a hold on them now. He considered them all in the order they had spoken: 

Felix, the surly one firing harsh truths. 

Ingrid, who reigned in Sylvain’s womanizing and harbored indiscreet anti-Duscur sentiment. 

Sylvain, the skirt-chaser who stood up for Annette and Dedue. He protested Ingrid’s viewpoints and was the only one who stood up for Dedue.

Annette, the kind girl who was trying to bring out something positive. She apparently had a father who was a knight — Sir Gustave. …A Sir Gustave who had abandoned her… 

Mercedes, who was holding Annette now. She was the one who finally got Felix to stop talking.  

Prince Dimitri, who still wasn’t here. Neither was the professor. Ashe wondered why.

Then there was, himself, of course. Ashe. Not born noble, but by a fantastic twist of fate,  adopted by Lord Lonato. And finally…

Ashe looked at Dedue. Ashe didn’t know a thing about him, and Dedue still hadn’t said a word, even when he and his people were insulted. He didn’t even change expression. Ashe wondered, could this man perhaps not hear? How could he keep so calm? Ashe had been feeling fury on his behalf, but…

Something landed lightly on Ashe’s table. It was a light volume, with a dark leather cover and a red lotus emblazoned upon it. Oh! One of the books he hadn’t had the chance to collect yet. 

Then he saw the trimmed nails — silver polish — of the brown hand that had just put it there. He gasped. Professor Parvati was standing next to him, with Prince Dimitri was at her side. Ashe felt his mind grind to a halt, focused on just one question:

How long had they been standing here?


The scrape of a chair brought Ashe back out of his feverish thoughts. It was Dedue who was the first to stand. On hearing his chair, the rest of the students followed suit. As the Blue Lions Premier of 1180 took her place at the head of their class, the Blue Lions greeted her as one with the Faerghusi salute:  “Professor Parvati!”

She looked stunned for a moment, then laughed. “Wow. Well, that’s a first! Haha. I’ve never seen such crisp, sharp discipline at Enbarr Imperial.” 

“Expect nothing less!” said the Prince, from where he took his place next to Dedue.

“Don’t mind if I don’t.” She put her bag down on the table with an unconscious smile. 

Oh good, thought Ashe. They must not have heard much.

But the smile had frozen on Professor Parvati’s face. “What’s wrong?”

She was looking at Annette.

Annette looked away. “I’m s-sorry, Professor.”

Professor Parvati blinked, then consulted Dimitri. He shrugged back, equally concerned. 

She said, “What’s going on here?” 

She was met with silence. Ashe could feel her eyes pass across the rest of them, scanning. Then she selected someone. “Dedue.”

Someone gasped. Ashe felt his stomach plummet. It was palpable, the surprise of the Blue Lions class. The fact that Dedue was the first one called. That, of all people, he was selected. 

He said, “Professor.”

Professor Parvati said, “Do you know why she is crying?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

Ashe saw Felix’s hand, on the table, tighten around an eraser. In front of them, Ashe saw Ingrid glance at Sylvain, and Sylvain tilt his chin towards his shoulder as he trained his eyes on Dedue, breathless. Ashe, himself, was starting to get dizzy. 

Prince Dimitri was looking at Dedue. “Well?”

Dedue bowed to the Premier. “Miss Dominic can let you know in private, if she likes.” 

The tension that released from the students was audible. Ashe let out a sigh of relief. Felix leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Sylvain’s shoulders dropped. Ingrid straightened up in her seat, and ran a hand down her braid.

Professor Parvati looked at the crying girl and gave her the option. “Annette?”

Annette shook her head. “It’s not anything less than the truth, Professor,” said Annette. “And sometimes, the truth is tear-worthy.” She was trying to smile through the tears.

The professor’s eyes widened as she gave a surprised “Huh.” She considered something, then came to Annette and collected Annette’s two hands into her own. “It’s a little early for you to have to learn that one, isn’t it?” 

Annette smiled, this time succeeding. Professor Parvati thumbed Annette’s tears away, first from one cheek, and then the other. 

She then turned to the rest of her class, and gave them her first command: 

“Seat yourself, Blue Lions.” 


Mercedes was so relieved. She took her seat. Beside her, Annette wiped her face and smiled back. She would be okay. They smiled at each other, listening to sound of chalk working diligently across a blackboard before turning the professor their attention. 

Professor Parvati didn’t even get to finish writing her own name before Sylvain said, “Hey Professor! How about, after class today, we do a little — getting to know each other? We could get lunch.” 

Mercedes could heard the snap of a pencil behind her as the Prince groaned, “Sylvaaaain…

Parvati chalked a little square at the end of Dr. Parvati Sinha and put her hands on her hips, still surveying the board. “That can be arranged.”

The class perked up. They looked at Sylvain. Sylvain looked as shocked as the rest of them. 

She turned back to the class. “If it means in my office, and you’re grading the math homework. Every Monday. I’ll even pay for a nice lunch.”

Sylvain winced. “Well played, Professor.”

“I wasn’t playing!” Parvati gave a charming smile. “We can also do dinner if that works better with your schedule. Let me know if you’re interested. I’ll be waiting for you.” 

Mercedes and Annette exchanged wide-eyed grins. Professor Parvati had just permanently turned any further flirting attempts by Sylvain into a show of interest in grading math homework. He’d be assigning himself his own punishment! 

Then Annette’s eyes went wide. She threw her hand into the air. “Ooh! You said math. Professor?”

“Yes, Annette?”

“Is that — Q.E.D. — that you wrote after your name?”

The professor’s eyes twinkled. “Very good, Annette.” 

“Oh good, I was right!” Annette giggled. “I thought it was just a fancy dot.”

Professor Parvati tapped the square with her chalk and explained. “This square is a math symbol. You use it to sign the end of a proof, when you announce: ‘And there you have it! I have done it! It is proved!’ And like Annette said, it stands for Q.E.D.” Then she smiled. “Annette…”

“Y-Yes, Professor?”

“You can put down your hand now.”

There was a light chuckle in the class. Annette flushed. “Oops.”

Mercedes smiled, reaching into her bag. Now seemed like a good time for these… 

On seeing what Mercedes produced, the boy sitting next to Felix cried out. “I knew it! I knew there were cookies!” 

His outcry drew everyone’s stares. He promptly turned red. Another smattering of laughter.

Mercedes chuckled. “Hello, Professor. I am Mercedes. I thought this would be a good way to start the year.” She unwrapped the robin-egg-blue cloth and proffered the plate of cookies.

“Von Matritz? That sounds Adrestian,” said Professor Parvati as she slunk over, very much interested. She picked up one of them — the chocolate chunks were half-melting into the body of the rest of the cookie, and when she split the cookie, it came apart bending slowly. There was a note of reverence as Parvati whispered, “These are so soft!” 

Parvati bit into it, assessing, holding the two halves in her two hands. Mercedes held her breath until the professor’s eyes lit up. “Oh my Gods… These are so good!” she said, her mouth still full with cookie. “I could get married to these… No, no, no. Randolph would get mad at me.”

“Who’s Randolph?” asked Sylvain. 

Professor Parvati ignored him and said to Mercedes, “You can bribe me with these.”

Mercedes’s eyes widened. What did she say? 

“If you ever need to boost your grade,” said Parvati, “these will do.”

Behind Mercedes, the Prince cried out. Ingrid said, “That’s completely inappropriate!”

“Hey, I’m an equal opportunities professor,” she said to Ingrid, taking another bite into her cookie. “There’s nothing stopping you from making cookies too.” She covered her mouth with a hand as she talked with her mouth full. “Don’t you all bribe me at once though. I’ll get a stomachache.”

The boy who had cried out about the cookies started laughing. Mercedes smiled. This professor was down-to-earth. Mercedes would not have to pretend with this one.

Parvati pointed her cookie at the cookie boy. “You.”

“Hu-wah!” He looked around like he hoped she was pointing at someone else. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Come up here. You need a cookie. I hear your tummy rumbling.” 

The boy had freckles and wolf-grey hair and mint-green eyes. He accepted a cookie meekly. After he bit into it, Parvati asked, “What do you rate it? Out of five stars.”

“I rate it one thousand!” 

Touched by his enthusiasm, they all shared a laugh. In a few minutes, on Parvati’s request, Mercie was passing out the cookies to the rest of the class. She pushed Annette to take two — “I know one won’t do, Annie” and smiled politely when Sylvain took one with a wink. Felix passed, saying he didn’t like sweets while Ingrid made up from him by taking…three. 

Mercedes studied Ingrid as the girl chose all three of her cookies carefully. Mercie didn’t know Sylvain, Ingrid, Felix or the Prince personally; she only had hearsay from Annie. What she did know was that there were old wounds. Annie called them the Faerghus Four (she liked to make up names for everything), and she knew them because her father, Sir Gustave, was a knight closely serving the former King. 

Sir Gustave had been in charge of Prince Dimitri’s instruction. With the Prince came his childhood friends, the heirs of Gautier, Galatea, and Fraldarius. Mercie had only met Annette in the Royal School of Sorcery a few years ago, so she had never met these people…but she didn’t realize their situation was bad. Was so bad. She had thought it would be lovely, the Faerghus Four in the Blue Lions! She thought it would be delightful: childhood friends! But from the way Ingrid, Sylvain and Felix argued…it didn’t sound like they were friends. It didn’t even sound like they liked each other. 

And the way they talked behind the back of the Prince… That too seemed unkind.

Oh, they’re all so young, she thought. Mercie was twenty-two, fully five years older than most OA students. She hoped that was all the problem was; they were all so hot-blooded and young. They would cool down eventually.

Except for Sylvain…he needed a cool down for a different kind. Mercie decided she would talk about him to Parvati. 

Mercie offered the plate of cookies to the Prince of Faerghus. She could hardly believe the heir to the throne itself would be eating her cookies one day! He smiled and took off his gloves to pick one out, and busied himself with examining the texture as Mercie moved on.

Dedue was next. She tried to see in through his eyes as he took a cookie. What was he feeling? There were some…horrible things said… She was quite shocked; she didn’t expect it, and certainly never so early in class. On the first day? But Dedue had said nothing, had done nothing to defend himself. In fact, he even refused to report what happened! She couldn’t stop asking herself,  Why? Why didn’t he say anything? 

Even now, not letting the Professor know…Mercie felt guilty. But now, it had become a secret, with every Blue Lions student in on it. 

Except for the Prince. 

Mercie filled with dread. The Prince and the Premier may be smiling now, but this was a horrible start to the year. These cookies may bring joy and smiles now, but the old wounds were right on the surface. It was merely a matter of time before unsavory topics came up again — maybe next time, with the Prince and Premier present. If the first Blue Lions class was one to set precedence, then any Blue Lions class going forward had a good chance of going sideways. 

Mercedes tried to keep her sigh in. She already knew. This would be the one class she’d dread the most. 

“Okay, but who’s Randolph?” Sylvain was still asking, bringing Mercedes back to the present. 

Mercedes offered the cookies to Dedue again. “Dedue, have another one.”

It was like he just noticed her. He was hesitating.

Mercedes smiled as she said, “Please. I… I want you to. Please take another.”

Mercedes didn’t see it, but over her shoulder, Professor Parvati watched with interest. The professor must have answered Sylvain’s question, for Prince Dimitri spoke up. 

“Von Bergliez? The Fifth Division? You mean to say…” he turned to Dedue. “The Adrestian soldiers we encountered…on the mountain…”

Dedue nodded to him. 

“We — we blasted the national anthem…” The Prince covered his face for some reason. “That was her…paramour’s retinue? Oh nooooo…”

“National anthem?” asked Annie, curious. “What is it, Your Highness?”

“N-Nothing…” he stammered. 

“Speaking of Adrestians,” said Professor Parvati to Mercedes, “I’m glad I’m not the only Adrestian in this room. I was certainly questioning if this is where I belong.” From the way the professor looked from Mercedes to Dedue, though, Mercedes knew that it wasn’t being an Adrestian that made her most uncomfortable here. It was being Duscuri.

But Dedue retaliated. He said,  “With that name? How can you even question it?” 

A blindsided look took over her face. She looked at the board, where she had written: Dr. Parvati Sinha. The professor flushed. “Ugh…”

The Blue Lions glanced at each other. As the professor was not forthcoming, they turned as one to Dedue. 

“What does that mean, Dedue?” asked Mercedes.

Dedue seemed to consider something for a moment, then pointed to the chalk in the professor’s hand. “May I?”

She didn’t say anything. She only handed it to him begrudgingly. Dedue rose out of his seat and walked over to the board. 

The Blue Lions exchanged curious glances. What was happening? Why was the professor upset? She had her arms crossed, and she was definitely pouting. 

[========== REDACTED (same scene, 90 words) ==========]

Prince Dimitri burst out laughing. “Why, Professor! This seems like destiny!”

She had that wry kind of grin of one too amused not to hand over a win.

Then Dedue did one more thing…

[========== REDACTED (same scene, 20 words) ==========]

The class started laughing. 

“All right, Sass Bucket! Take a seat!” Professor Parvati couldn’t let this one slide, but she was laughing as well. 

Mercedes laughed with the rest of them and watched Dedue return to his desk. He seated himself, victorious, stoically accepting Prince Dimitri’s resounding pats on the back. His eyes landed once, upon Mercedes, and then he looked away. 

Mercedes breathed a sigh of relief. This was a surprise. Maybe things would be okay. Couldn’t they be? She saw them again, in her mind’s eye, the way she had seen them last night: Count Galatea, Count Gaspard, Margrave Gautier, Count Fraldarius… After seeing the looks on their faces, Mercedes expected things to be rough. She certainly didn’t expect to start this day off laughing. So…Mercedes surveyed her classmates. Maybe things would be okay. Maybe things would…

Beside her, the professor had stopped laughing. While the class settled into excited chatter as they started the year, it was only Mercedes who got to hear Professor Parvati say to herself, “Destiny…”

Chapter 18: Working Relationships

Notes:

One. Hundred. Kudos. AAAAAAAH!!! ❤️🥰💖🥰

Chapter Text

In the second floor of the Garreg Mach monastery, down the halls, past the Common Room, at the very end of the hallway, was the room meant to host Ancient Technology class. But the doors were closed. Locked, even. Dorothea was a bit surprised. She had brought with her the Black Eagles, early. They were going to find the class and claim the best spots right away. Beside her, the sleepy mage Lindhardt von Hevring and the rowdy brawler Caspar von Bergliez, childhood friends, exchanged a glance.

“Are you sure this is it?” asked Caspar.  

“It has to be,” said Lindhardt. “It says Cardinals’ Room.” He pointed to the placard to the right of the double doors. 

Caspar tried the handle and rattled it up and down. “Well, that’s weird,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Why’s the handle freezing cold?” 

“Whoa,” Lindhardt moved away from the door. He knocked backwards into Lady Edelgard and Bernadetta. They were all looking down.

“What’s that?” asked Dorothea. Cold vapors were sweeping out from under the door. She exchanged a glance with Lady Edelgard. “Is the professor all right?” 

Then, the vapors dissipated. The Black Eagles glanced at one another, wordlessly, as they all filled with unease. In the meanwhile, voices of other students were starting to fill the hall.

“If you want to be a leader, you have to know how to get along with different types of people, right?” a booming voice was saying. “If you really want to get to know someone, all you have to do is share a meal with them.”

“Quite the contrary, Raphael, unfortunately,” someone else responded. “It seems the more time I spent eating with you, the less likely we are to become friends.” 

The talking students rounded around the corner and into the Black Eagle’s view. The Golden Deer students ambled over, led by the speakers, one large blonde man — Raphael, the one with the booming voice — and a tall, thin rose-adorned nobleman with a bowl cut and a severe face. 

Ah, thought Dorothea with a spike of irritation. Lorenz…

“Lorenz, what are you saying?” said Raphael. “The more you eat with someone, the more you learn about them. Their likes, their dislikes. You know? You might get some of their food that way too! You can eat more and bulk up! Hahaha! All that talking made me hungry again. When’s this class over?”

Lorenz came to stand next to Hubert with a dramatic sigh. “Over? Class hasn’t begun yet!” He nodded to the Black Eagles second-in-command. Hubert nodded back.

“Hey, Princess,” Claude sauntered over to them. Lady Edelgard ignored him and turned her attention back to the doors. Something had just happened. A sound. The sound of unlocking. Then, simultaneously, the two doors swung open. Caspar and Lorenz stepped forward to look inside together. They stopped and gawked.

“This looks ominous,” said Caspar. 

“Indeed, you’re right,” said Lorenz. 

The room was gaping darkness. Not the normal dark one would expect. It was a cloudy afternoon and the sunlight streamed in everywhere else in the monastery through stained glass windows. Here, it didn’t even seem like there were windows. No candles. No lit chandeliers overhead. Just a pit of darkness that seemed to defy reality. 

Then, from inside, what sounded like the tinkling of wind chimes, but deeper and duller.

And then, a whisper: “Shut up, Ferdinand.” 

Ferdinand? thought Dorothea, exchanging looks with the rest of the students. There were now 24 students lining this hall, clumped together and peeking over each others’ shoulders. Dorothea had noticed that Ferdinand was not with the Black Eagles as they came by but…she didn’t mind. She didn’t look for him very hard. 

“What is going on in here?” demanded a girl from the Golden Deer — Lysithea. She started squeezed past Raphael and inserted herself in front of Hubert. She put a hand forward and summoned a small fireball light — that immediately was swallowed out of existence. She said, “Oh. I forgot we can’t do magic in this building.”

“W-W-Wait! Did everybody else just see?” asked Bernadetta. “No one was here to open the doors!”

Lysithea said, “What?” She regarded the doors, her eyes round as coins, and retreated behind Hubert again. 

Now another set of voices was starting to fill the halls. The Blue Lions. They weren’t in sight yet,  but they were preceded by laughing. Dorothea piped up. The Prince. It was Prince Dimitri who was laughing as he came. 

“No, nonsense! I promise you, I don’t mind at all. It’s certain that my days would have been filled with more fun if I’d had a little sister like you.”

Just as Dorothea expected, the Prince of Faerghus rounded the corner. “What kind of things did Gustave tell you about me? I’d love to hear more on this topic.” He stopped talking when he made eye contact with — everyone else at the end of the hallway.

“Do you really want to know?” asked the girl walking beside him. It was Annette, another mage like Dorothea. “Well, for one, he used to tell this story about when you were a child and — ”

“You know what? Never mind. I have a bad feeling about where this is going,” Dimitri said, cutting her off before he had to do damage control. 

Behind him, the rest of the Blue Lions fell silent on seeing the other two Houses standing in the hall. They were yet to be formally introduced to each other. The Black Eagles took up space, territorial. The Golden Deer, taking the casual stance their House Leader, Claude, had filed in amongst Black Eagles ranks without noticing. But the Blue Lions fell in line behind the Prince as one unit. Not a single one wandered out of place. 

The Three Houses regarded one another. 

So this is the Faerghus discipline, thought Dorothea. She felt the Prince’s eyes sweep over everyone. 

He asked, “Why are you all standing there?” 

“B-Because it’s dark!” pointed Bernadetta.

“What if it’s haunted?” asked Lysithea. “Not that things like ghosts exist, of course, because they don’t.” On hearing her House Leader chuckling, she commanded, “Claude. Stop laughing!”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t laughing!” he retorted.

Lysithea looked over her shoulder to him. “You weren’t? But t-then, who?”

The sound of laughter again, followed by a Shh! 

Dorothea put her hands on her hips and took a stand in front of the doorway. “I know you’re in there, Ferdinand. If you think this is some kind of joke…” It was so dark in there she thought she could see the darkness swimming inside. She kept staying in that position, but her show of bravery was not going to take her another step forward. 

“You go, Lorenz,” Claude said, giving his classmate a light push. “You’re the most noble of us all.”

Lorenz made noises.

“This is ridiculous,” said Prince Dimitri, walking down the line of Black Eagles and Golden Deer students and coming straight to the doorway. 

He took a stand at the doorway beside Dorothea. She could feel his presence, only eight inches away. Tall…strong…gorgeous. She kept her cool and did not look his way, not until she was given a reason to by some other movement. Dedue. The Prince’s giant Duscuri shadow had followed. 

And then her heart stopped. The Prince was looking her way. He was smirking. “Scared of the dark, are we?”

From behind Dorothea, her liege lady answered. “Not in the slightest.”

Oh, thought Dorothea, heart hammering. He had been mocking Lady Edelgard, the Princess of Adrestia. He hadn’t been talking to her. 

Those sapphire eyes cut like steel. Dorothea made a mental note not start off on the wrong foot with him. 

Prince Dimitri turned to the room and announced himself. “Send me your ghosts, your darkness! I am not afraid.” He stepped forth into the darkness. The light from the hallway went as far as the beginning of tables closest to the doorway. He stopped there. The moment he stopped, the room started changing color. 

What — What is happening? Dorothea thought. It was true — the whole room was changing color. Tables ran end-to-end in two columns down the length of the room, the two columns facing each other with a four-foot gap between them. Eery lights ran in strips above the tables, and ran down pillars along the sides of the room like glowing paint. The lights went from dark blue to sea green to a bright, sky blue.

The sound of slow clapping. As Dorothea and the other students filed into the room after the Prince, they found Professor Parvati standing in the center of the two table columns. She was clapping. “Well done, Prince Dimitri. Bravest in the school.” She looked pleased.

Dorothea glanced at the Prince. That face, that smug expression — it was the same as Orientation, when Professor Parvati was declared his Premier. That wasn’t a normal expression. Dorothea looked from the Blue Lions House Leader to the Blue Lions Premier, then back to the Prince. What was going on here?

Professor Parvati broke her gaze away from the Prince first and spread wide her arms. She indicated the two columns of tables beside her. “Well, class, take a seat.”

The students milling in examined the strange, color-changing lights. 

“Ferdinand!” Caspar called out to him. “What were you doing here?” 

Ferdinand was at the front of the room, way at the far end of one of the columns. “Just helping the professor set everything up.” Ferdinand smiled wide, enjoying his classmates’ curious glances. 

So it was he and Parvati who had been the hiding in the dark. Dorothea felt a flicker of annoyance. If she wanted to get closer to the professor, she’d have to get closer to him as well. Dorothea strolled over to one of the chairs and took a spot, then realized as she was sitting that she had followed the Prince. He looked surprised that she had chosen to sit next to him, and on her other side, Dedue was too. Dedue must not have been keeping up close enough to the Prince. Dorothea winked at the vassal. Dedue, unfazed, simply looked away. 

Ooh. Cold, thought Dorothea. That Dedue seemed to be one tough cookie. Not that she really wanted to wink at him. She’d just been too intimidated to wink at the Prince. 

Across from her, Linhardt stuck his head under the tables. She realizes he was investigating — there were lights underneath he tables! If he had been anyone else, she would have thought he was trying to look up girls’ skirts but…but it was Linhardt, and the way his face lit up in the lights under the table made Dorothea curious too. She too swung her head under her table. Beside her, the Prince made a sound of surprise. He moved aside, gliding away on his chair. And the two of them stared at each other, Dorothea looking his way from under the table, and the Prince looking back, not processing, as his chair kept moving away. From her, and from the table. 

Dorothea blinked. There were wheels on his chair. There were — wheels — on his — chair. And he was rolling away. The chair stopped abruptly. The Prince turned in his seat. Ferdinand stood behind the Prince’s chair. He had stopped it. With a knowing smile, he then shimmied the chair once — reversing the wheels — and pushed the chair forward with his leg, sending the Prince — now hurtling — back in Dorothea’s direction. 

Dorothea yelped. In an attempt to move aside, she collided with her table overhead. She saw stars. Beside her, she heard the sound of skidding. The Prince had thrown his legs out to stop himself. Then he was beside her, under the table.

“Forgive me. Are you hurt?”

Dorothea blinked. “A little?” She paused rubbing her head. She couldn’t believe it. She was being accosted, by the Faerghusi prince! 

“Let me take you to Ingrid. She can — she has ice magic. For your head. Your head injury. I don’t mean your head. I mean your head, as well, but — well, not in that way!” He was growing increasingly flustered. 

Dorothea shook her head. She said, “I am a healer.” And then she smiled at him. 

The Prince’s eyes widened. So this is what he looked like when he was surprised. He was…so cute. And a little red as he nodded, “That is useful!” He returned a small smile of his own.

They lapsed into staring at each other as Caspar hollered to Ferdinand. “That was so cool! How do I make my chair do that? …Hey! Ferdinand! Ferdinand! Ferdinand! Ferd — are you listening?”

There was another voice, from outside of the table. Dedue said, “Your Highness.”

The Prince started.

Dorothea flushed. “We should probably — ”

“Yes,” said the Prince. 

The two retreated back out from under the desks and resumed seated positions at the table, sharing a glance, a smile…another smile…as Caspar went on hollering. “Wait, what do you mean mine won’t? Then I don’t want this chair. Linhardt, give me yours.” 

Then the lights in the room changed again. This time, the lights along the pillars on the sides of the room stopped emitting. The lights under the tables grew dull. But the lights overhead turned into such strong white lights, centered upon the professor, the lights became too much to look at directly.

It’s like a spotlight, Dorothea realized. The opera often used mirrors to train light into one place, when they needed to emphasize particular characters on the stage. The lights in this classroom were doing the same — and while it put the professor in focus, it eerily also made all of Dorothea’s classmates look like bright figures of themselves coming into relief out of the black. Like they were all ghosts, and Professor Parvati was the only real thing. 

Dorothea shivered. 

Professor Parvati said, “Welcome to Ancient Technology.”

Numerous students turned with a snap in their seats, Dedue included. It had sounded like the professor’s voice had come from behind them. Dorothea had guesses as to how this too was done — there were opera tricks. But she didn’t have time to think on it more because of that awful creaking. The students froze. At the entry of the room, the doors began to close themselves. And when they did, they closed with a reverberating thump.

The class held its breath, waiting…waiting for anything else.

She’s so dramatic, thought Dorothea, heart thumping. And with good effect. She too had gotten startled.

“As you already know,” the professor continued, “I am Dr. Parvati Sinha. I come to you from Enbarr Imperial University. I am the lead Agarthan Technology researcher there.

Tomorrow, I will be teaching you mathematics here as well, but as for today…”

Professor Parvati turned to a strange waist-height spire beside her. It was a white, oblong cylinder with black geometrical designs on it. She put something on top of it. Suddenly, in the space above her head, strange shapes began to float in midair. There were blue lines everywhere, straight, curved, sometimes looking like a staircase…. were curved, some had straight lines like a staircase, but all of the lines were blue. Some of the students cried out.

“When I was young,” she said, “my parents discovered the largest, most pristine Agarthan ruins. It provided us years of excavation! The work at that time was getting out as many artifacts as we could move safely, without incurring damage. What you see now is a projection of some of those artifacts. One day, you’ll see the real things.” 

Dorothea craned her head forward to see more clearly. The professor noticed. “Is it not big enough?” she asked. She put her pointer and middle fingers together, brought them up to the projection, and pulled down. The image of something that looked like the spinning part of a windmill grew threefold its size. Dorothea heard Hilda a few tables over go, “Wow.”

“What is this, Parvati?” asked Ferdinand. “You never showed this to my father before.”

“You’re right, I haven’t. Do you have my catalogue memorized?”

“Maybe.” 

Professor Parvati’s expression turned into a pleased grin. She looked back at the projection. Blue parallel lines reflected on and curved across her face. There was a moment of silence as she looked at the current projection. Then her voice took on a tone of resolve. 

“Long ago, people lived better than us,” she said. The projection turned into a six-pointed star. All six legs curved counter-clockwise, and it was spinning. Professor Parvati continued. “So much they had was superior. Exhibit A: this projection monitor. Exhibit B: these steady Agarthan lights. Captured lightning.”

“Electricity,” one of the students said.

Professor Parvati whirled around. “Who said that?”

Linhardt raised his hand. 

She smiled at him. “Exactly. What’s your name?” she asked. Then she said, “Ohhh. So we meet at last. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Linhardt glanced at his neighbors, just as surprised as everyone else. 

“Let’s talk later.” Professor Parvati turned back to the projection. “The Agarthans had superior comforts, energy sources and entertainment. They had self-propelling modes of transport, ones not limited to or reliant upon some beast’s labor. They had medical devices — and practices — why they could even transplant a heart.” She looked down one column of students, and then the other. “Imagine! What kind of hubris must these people have had to try such a thing?”

“Uhh, Professor?” boomed Raphael’s voice from the other end fo the room. Dorothea couldn’t see him at the end of her column, but everyone could hear him. He asked, “What does transplant mean?”

“Yeah, I don’t get it either,” Caspar said. 

“Transplant,” said Professor Parvati, “is when you take an organ from one body…and then put it into another body. And reconnect it. They had power to do this.”

Across from her, Dorothea could see Lysithea grow stiff. She was sitting next to Linhardt, and her face became angry and dark. Dorothea shuddered, goosebumps rising along her arms. The room was cold, and there was a sweet, metallic scent. In the silence, they could hear the sound of something scratching. Professor Parvati looked to the source. 

“You don’t need to take notes for today’s class, dear,” she said. “Just drink it into your soul.”

“Oh,” said the Golden Deer boy. “Well…I actually like…note-taking.”

She cocked her head at him. “Is your name Ignatz?”

“U-Uh, yes actually.”

She nodded.  “You might become everybody’s best friend, at this rate, if ever they miss this class.”

Ignatz blinked. “Oh, I would be happy to share!”

And the entire class noted it.

“Now all we have are the bits and pieces of the legacy left behind by a society that disappeared,” Professor Parvati continued. “What happened to them? Why did they disappear? What was their society like? How did they speak their language?” 

The projection changed to the picture of a woman. “These questions were the obsessions of my mother. She was the linguist, and she passed on a good portion of the language to me. Finding the location of the ruins, and resolving the how of the architecture, on the other hand…” The projection changed now to the outline of a man, now recognizably from Duscur, though both images were only blue outlines without color. “These were the questions forever hounded by my father. As for me…”

The blue shapes and lines had disappeared. She had removed the projection. The eyes of all in the class came focused onto her. She walked down the aisle, meeting the eyes of every student as she passed. “I am not one for being stuck in the past. I look to the future. And I believe we should learn from the past so we can strive to a better future. My focus of study is and always has been the use of each Agarthan technology. And every single one of them is a puzzle, is a marvel, is a mystery. Some people may find imperfect information to be frustrating, but for me, not knowing begets mystery, and mystery begets imagination.”

Professor Parvati looked out to the rest of them. “I live in a permanent state of imagination. I unlock the puzzles of what each artifact does, and then I see if I can transform it to some good usage in this society. Sometimes, it is too difficult to replicate, meaning we truly do have a limited number of that artifact. Sometimes, the cost of replication is extraordinary, and nothing less than the financial machine of an endowed university can engineer it. And sometimes, I just want to throw it on the ground, and pretend I had never seen it, it infuriates me so. For those artifacts, I tend to announce large cash prizes for anyone who can figure out what that thing does.”

From across the room, Dorothea saw Leonie perk up out of a slouch. 

Professor Parvati surveyed her students. “Four such artifacts are currently sitting in Hanneman’s office, if anyone finds themselves interested. For the two small ones, you can sign them out for 24 hours and take them to your room to play with. The two larger ones, naturally, don’t get to exit Hanneman’s room.”

Claude raised his hand. “Why are they in Professor Hanneman’s?”

“Because I don’t want to look at them.” She looked down the line of students. “Any other questions?”

“Sounds to me like you make other people do the things you don’t want to,” said Lysithea. 

There was a collection of gasps. Professor Parvati turned to face her with a smile. She said, “Of course. This is not work I have to do alone, nor do I want to. That’s no fun. I hadn’t expected to mention this but…” She turned back on the projection, so that it went back to cycling through artifacts. “On days after Technology class, you are free to stay in this room and play with artifacts. If you help discover something, I will add extra credits. Note that I said credits, not credit. I am not saying involvement will supplement your grade in this class. It will do better — it will add credits to your transcript. For anyone with any serious intentions for research or academics, you might get a mention in forthcoming research papers, and it might be a path to securing letters of recommendation for future endeavors.”

“We can get published in papers?” said Linhardt. “Aren’t we too young for it?”

“There is no age to discovery,” responded Parvati. “A third of my discoveries were from when I was twelve. I obviously had direct connections — my parents. They wrote me into papers half in jest. This set me on the path to become the most accomplished, youngest scholar in the city of Enbarr. You will often hear people criticizing me for standing on the shoulders of my parents. But I see no reason why they shouldn’t elevate me up, and why I wouldn’t elevate you up as well, as my equals, in every way. My parents may have added me into research papers in jest, but I would write you into my papers with all gravitas.” 

She brought to the projector, next, a startling image: the simple image of a coin of gold. 

“Let me make clear to you now, so you never suffer a sense of deceit: the kind of research I am doing takes gold. It’s not like Hanneman’s research, where he can ask people for time, and think, and exchange erudite letters with other scholars and travel to places. Not to disparage his work in any way. I am, occasionally, jealous. My research requires manpower, to move artifacts from one place to another, with care, wherever I go, or to dig up artifacts in the first place. So much of it I can’t do on my own. We must sometimes use equipment that costs roughly the about the same as eight mechanical ballistae.”

Eight ballistae?” said Ingrid and Sylvain.

Professor Parvati nodded. “Many a times, the artifacts themselves are crossing borders. The unthinkable costs of paying customs to ship one good both ways makes me cry inside. The paperwork involved with getting one nation to transfer ownership or to lend these pieces to another makes me want to die inside. It took over a half a year to get approvals for transfers of artifacts from the E.I. to the Church for this year — which delayed me from coming here last year. And if the Church decides to renew my contract, I’ll have to do all of that paperwork again.” 

Parvati sighed. “What I am trying to say is — research takes capital, replication takes capital, and everything needs connections. That capital, those connections, might one day come from you. So, I come here today with an intent to create working relationships with every one of you.”

Lysithea spoke again. “You’re just looking for one of us to shower you lavishly with gold.”

Claude gave a “Ha!” before clapping a hand over his mouth. Annette hissed, “Lysithea!

“One of you?” asked Professor Parvati. “Is that the best I can do? That’s embarrassing.” 

Dorothea saw Hubert and Lady Edelgard exchange satisfied smirks. Oh Lysithea… thought Dorothea. You’re making enemies here. It would be a good time to stop talking now…

“She already has someone!” said Ferdinand. “Can I say it now? Can I say it, Professor?” 

Professor Parvati crossed her arms and rubbed the corner of her eyes, bracing herself. “Oooo-kay, Ferdinand. You can go for it.”

“Parvati has been sponsored by my father,” said Ferdinand, “and we have licensed and produced all the lights that you’re seeing! We even have a catch-phrase for you: ‘Why have fire lights…when you can have — ”

“Oh Goddess, no…” came out of Felix’s mouth. He knew what was coming next.

— AEGIR LIGHTS!’”

Felix, Dorothea and Hilda groaned in unison.

Professor Parvati shook her head, brimming with shame. “It’s too genius a marketing plan. I assure you, class, I did not take part.”

“You may not like it,” said Ferdinand, victorious, “but you won’t forget it.”

The class was quiet because they knew this was true. 

The class bell rang. Annette jumped. “Ooh!”

“Oh wow, dismissed already?” said Professor Parvati. “I didn’t even get to the most important part!” 

“You can have us for a few more minutes, if you like,” spoke Hilda. “I mean, if it’ll take only a couple of minutes.”

The Golden Deer looked at Hilda, amazed. Hilda… Volunteering to stay a couple extra minutes…

Professor Parvati shook her head. “It won’t be, unfortunately,” she said to Hilda, “but I’d say you all have something quite exciting to look forward to on Thursday. In the meanwhile, before you head out, please take a look at the essay prompt I have written on the board. This essay is due on Thursday.” 

The lights started shifting to a happy sea green color throughout the whole room. As the students rose out of their seats, chairs clattering or rolled out, and were pushed back into their tables. By the time Dorothea bid Dedue and the Prince goodbye, Ferdinand was already deep in chat with Professor Parvati. “Interactive class today.”

She nodded. “I might have to make more space for discussion…” 

Dorothea tapped her on the shoulder. “Professor, your lecture was simply excellent.”

“As is always the case,” said Ferdinand.

“Why, thank you, Ferdinand,” said Professor Parvati. “Though I believe this is the first lecture you’ve attended?”

He blushed, still beaming. Dorothea tried not to roll her eyes. She had wanted to chat with the professor privately…but in the moment, neither she nor Ferdinand were going to get that chance, because Lysithea was now standing beside them. 

“Lysithea,” Professor Parvati greeted her. “How may I help you?”

Lysithea scowled at her and clenched her fists as she said, “Professor, I would like to unenroll from this class immediately.”

 

Chapter 19: Elementary

Notes:

Hello, Ladies and Gents and Beautiful People! HAPPY DIWALI!!! I had meant to post by Halloween, but alas, it's been incredibly busy moving halfway across the country and getting settled in.

Meanwhile, Moyou did this lovely Diwali + Halloween fan art of Parvati as a witch with a South Asian twist! What a lovely surprise oh em geeee!!! 🥰 Now that I've seen it, I can't unsee it -- I'm going to have to insert South Asian style witches like this into my original stories!!! Happy belated Halloween, everyone! Hope yours was as magical as this! Or that you at least ate candy. Like a lot of it.

Chapter Text

Happy Diwali!!!

Parvati in Diwali + Halloween Attire, by Moyou 😍 

Parvati - in a Witch Costume!


Parvati was absolutely stunned. “You want to what?”

“I would like to unenroll from this class. I disagree with your research,” Lysithea said.

“With my research? Did you mean certain concepts? Or results? What do you mean, disagree with research?”

“Everything. Maybe there’s a reason these people are demolished. Maybe they were doing something that they absolutely shouldn’t have. And they got punished. So I am saying, that I disagree with your research. And I would like to henceforth unenroll from your class.”

Dorothea and Ferdinand exchanged glances beside Parvati.

“Wow,” Professor Parvati said, reeling. “I have — never had this happen before. Did I do something wrong?”

“There’s no reconciliation between us, so don’t bother. Can I please, please unenroll from this?”

“Listen, Lysithea, I am perfectly happy to give you any and every option. But this course is required. We can speak with Viceroy Seteth, if you wish.”

“I would like that,” said Lysithea. “Can we go now?”

Again, Parvati exchanged glances with Ferdinand and Dorothea. “Yes, of course.”


Seteth had been anticipating seeing Parvati, but — not quite so soon. Lysithea, the youngest student at Garreg Mach, had approached him and asked if she and Professor Parvati could talk with him privately. Thus, he brought the them into his office and shut the door. “Is anything the problem?” he asked.  

“There is a problem,” Lysithea said. She explained to him a short overview of Parvati’s lesson. “Then she talked about a heart transplant.” 

Seteth looked at Parvati before he could catch himself. Heart transplants! What did she know about heart transplants? She saw the look on his face. Something changed in her eyes. Her bewildered look now became guarded.

“There are actual people out there, experimenting with these things, you know,” said Lysithea, facing Parvati. “And it’s completely wrong. But you glorified it, like it was a good thing.”

Seteth opened his mouth to say something, but the professor was already responding. 

“It was a good thing,” said Parvati, “in that controlled environment. Maybe the heart is not as easy to accept, but consider kidneys. We have two. There are romance novels my mother used to read me, from this society, one where a father’s kidney was failing. To save him, the mother transplanted one of her kidneys into him. It was clearly dangerous, but it wasn’t an experiment. It was a practice. Where is this coming from, Lysithea?”

Seteth opened his mouth again, but Lysithea retorted, “Do you really think it worked like that just because you read it in a romance novel?”

“Lysithea, please. Do you really think that would be my only source of this knowledge?”

They were flyaway wyverns, neither one pausing.

“Well, a heart transplant kills the person losing it, you understand?” 

This brought Parvati to a complete stop. “Yes, Lysithea. I understand.” 

Lysithea stood with her hands balled into fists, her mouth in a line as tears started streaming down her face. “You say that, but I don’t think you do. You couldn’t possibly.” With that, she ran to the door and flung herself out of the office. 

Seteth took in Parvati’s stunned expression. This will be useful. Already an infraction. He didn’t anticipate them to start stacking up so fast. With another three or four, the Officer’s Academy could expel her, and leave her a permanent bad reputation. All while gathering all her Agarthan artifacts…

“Professor, shut the door,” said the Viceroy. 

She broke out of her trance, as if just remembering him. She did as he bid and closed the door. 

He took a seat behind his desk. Time to instill some very real fear into her eyes.  He said, “Professor Parvati, you have stepped into some dangerous territory. The Church does not condone head and chest incisions. The very idea of a heart transplant goes against the Faith of Seiros.”

Her eyes went wide.

“What you were talking about,” said Seteth, “is a gross and shocking desecration of the human body. We will not be hosting any such discussions here. I can’t even begin to think — when the students write home about their first day — if they bring this notion up to the parents, what will the Officer’s Academy have to do then?”

Professor Parvati stood stock still in front of his desk as she listened to what he had to say. When she realized he wasn’t asking a rhetorical question, she stammered. “I — I am — so — sorry. I — have put you in a…grave…position indeed.”

Seteth stared at her for a moment. Then his brows flew up his face. The gall of this woman! “Is this a joke to you?” he asked. “Did you just… Did you just make a pun?”

“Apologies, Viceroy. I tend to humor when I find myself in fear or in danger.” 

His expression darkened. “Acquire another coping mechanism. You’ll find I won’t humor you well.” 

He stood to dismiss her and she stepped back unconsciously. 

Good, thought Seteth. “Consider this your first warning,” he added. “I don’t give many.”

The whites in her eyes glistened as she said, “Yes sir.”

“You are dismissed.”


There were whispers when Prince Dimitri opened the door to Professor Hanneman’s office. The Viceroy had requested Dimitri fetch the Golden Deer Premier for a swift conference. He had looked most severe when he did. Dimitri noted that Professor Parvati’s door was left ajar as he made his way. She wasn’t in there. And once he opened Professor Hanneman’s door, Dimitri knew where she was. He had only opened the door about two inches when he heard her speaking. 

Her words were low and frantic. “ — has two Crests? Then that puts us both in jeopardy. Your Crest research, my Ancient Technology work — it just takes a few to ruin it for us all! You know what they did to the telescope — ”

“And what you must know,” came Professor Hanneman’s voice, quite heated, “is that the Viceroy is fair. Think, Parvati, think! I could be anywhere in Adrestia. Why do you imagine I would even consider nesting in the Seirosi haven, me, an Adrestian atheist who can hardly tolerate all this religious drivel?”

Dimitri blinked. Professor Hanneman was — an Unbeliever? Teaching at the Officer’s Academy? He looked down the hall. Dedue wasn’t back from the washroom yet.

Hanneman went on. “I have only the highest opinion of Seteth. It is his strict attention that brought the Church off of its radical track sixteen years ago. Or are you to tell me you have already forgotten?”

Parvati said, “Sixteen years ago, I was twelve…”

“Oh. Well. In any case, I understand he is austere. I too received a terrible warning, long, long ago. It is his way, you will see. The first warning — it is always terrible. But all he means to do is to ensure there will be no need for a second one.” 

“Hanneman, I’m telling you: it wasn’t normal. Please, if I could just take a look at the von Ordelia documents — ”

“Parvati, no.”

“But you’re her Premier — ”

No.

There was a shocked silence. 

Dimitri frowned. What in the name of the Goddess were they talking about? The von Ordelia documents? He craned forward to hear more. 

There was a sigh. Hanneman said, “I know it is not what you wanted to hear, but…give him a second chance, Parvati.” 

Inside the office, the two professors were clustered in front of Hanneman’s desk. Hanneman’s boots coming in and out of focus as Parvati’s eyes watered. Hanneman put a hand on Parvati’s shoulder and squeezed. He said, “Fear not. Seteth means you no harm.”

To his surprise, he heard Parvati scoff. She put a hand on top of his and whispered, “Hanneman…he gave me to the Prince. This was his second chance.”

Hanneman looked at her for a moment, then hummed. “Well, this is also the truth, isn’t it?” He sniffed. “Very well. I have made up my mind. I shall go talk to him. As for you…” He brushed aside a tear on her cheek. “You will go down to the dining hall and fill yourself up with dinner. It is hard to be brave on an empty stomach.”  

Parvati chuckled. “Okay, Hanneman.” Then something struck her. “Oh! Hey! This is like you’re a dad going off to berate my teacher. That’s never happened before.”

“That’s because your mother always did.”

Parvati laughed. “Okay, okay, you got me.” She smiled. “Thank you, Hanneman.”

Hanneman patted her head and shooed her away. When she got to the door, she found it partially ajar. Parvati frowned. There was no way she didn’t close it. She looked down the hall. Nobody… She glanced back at Hanneman. Someone had been listening…and she would have to find out who.


“What are you reading?” asked Shamir as she took a seat at Parvati’s table. 

The dining hall was buzzing with activity as Parvati picked at her dessert. She looked up in time for another tray to clatter onto the table. It was Catherine. 

Parvati put her book down and smiled. “Welcome back.”

Catherine plopped down onto the bench beside Parvati with an exhilarated grin. “No. Way.” She plucked the book out of Parvati’s hands and waved it at Shamir. “A raunchy romance novel!” she whispered.

Parvati snatched it back and clamped it between her legs under the table. “It’s my stress relief, okay? I’m really stressed. Leave me alone.”

Catherine smirked. “No can do. Let me take a look.”

“No.”

“Just a little bit.”

“No.”

“Page 190.”

No!

“Is that where it happens?” asked Shamir, propping open the book and flipping to that page. 

Parvati looked back down to her legs. The book wasn’t there anymore. “Hey!” 

“Yep, that’s where it happens,” Shamir verified.

“Where what happens?” asked a voice from behind Parvati.

No-ho-ho-ho waaaaay, cried the voice inside of Parvati’s head.

Shamir looked up, calmly shut the book, and slipped it back under the table as Seteth circled around the table. “You got the same thing I am having,” she said to Seteth.

“Is it as good as it smells?” he asked. He took a seat next to her, across from Parvati.

“Depends on how good you think it smells,” Shamir said noncommittally.  

Seteth frowned at the chicken. 

“That translates to yes,” Catherine chuckled. “So, Parvati, what were you saying?”

Parvati looked up from her food. “I was saying something?”

“You did mention that your mother used to read you novels,” said Seteth.

Parvati was surprised that left an impression at all, considering all the other things said in his office today.

“Aww, that’s cute!” said Catherine. “Our Commander here writes, you know.”

Parvati was dumbfounded. “You write?” she asked. 

“He writes fables and children’s stories,” said Shamir.

“He does?” asked Parvati. She looked away when Seteth looked her way.

But Hanneman’s voice rang in her head now. Give him a second chance. So she tried. She tried to imagine the stern pedestal running the Church agonizing over…whatever writers agonized about. She heard artists spent most of their time agonizing. 

“They’re in the library,” said Seteth, “if you care to look.”

The library, thought Parvati. With the von Ordelia documents… She said, “I’ll have to visit the library, then.”

“So what did your mother read to you?” he asked.

“Uhhhhhh…” 

Seteth and Shamir exchanged glances. It was obvious she was concocting a lie.

Catherine interjected. “Let me guess. Raunchy romance novels?”

Seteth’s fork froze in front of his face. “I sincerely hope I didn’t hear that correctly.”

Parvati glared at Catherine. She said, “It was an accident.”

Shamir frowned. “What.”

Catherine burst out laughing. “WHAT?”

Seteth said, “I regret I asked. And you were…how old?”

“I was eleven.”

His eyes bugged out of his head. “No, no. No no no no no,” he said with vigorous shaking of the head. “I refuse to ask you any more questions.”

“And your father was okay with it?” Shamir asked with a look of disbelief.

“Oh. No. My father didn’t know what it was.” Parvati opened her mouth to add that her mother didn't really read to her any of the ooh-la-la, once she realized what exactly the two of them had stumbled upon, but the Viceroy jumped in.

“How could he not know?” asked Seteth, despite his best efforts.

“Because it was Agarthan. She was a linguist. And that’s where the language reconstruction started.”

Seteth leveled a look at her. “Your mother…re-derived the Agarthan language… starting with explicit romance novels?” 

“They can to be quite elementary,” she responded. “Like fables and children’s stories.”  

He closed his eyes. “Please do not connect this to me.”

“Okay,” she shrugged. “You asked though.”

“I know. I have to stop asking you questions. I seem to always regret them.”

They ate in silence for a moment before Shamir said, “So which was your favorite?”

“I am leaving now,” Seteth declared, picking up his tray.

Chapter 20: A Day in the Life of Parvati Sinha

Chapter Text

“Combat instruction?” Catherine said over breakfast the next morning.

“Yes,” nodded Parvati. “Combat instruction. One of the basic tenets of the Officer’s Academy. Hanneman teaches the Golden Deer. Manuela handles the Black Eagles. Aelfric was supposed to handle the Blue Lions,” she explained. “And now… Now they have me, which…” She looked from Catherine to Shamir. “Which was not the plan.”

“No, it was not,” Shamir muttered to her Dagdan coffee, remembering the look on Seteth’s face as he had to explain to two Seirosi Knights that their…“charge”…was now suddenly an important Faerghusi official. 

“The Mock Battles are coming up in a few weeks,” Parvati mewled on. “The Blue Lions are going to be pit against the other classes. They’re going to get mauled. Ugh. I hate losing.” Parvati clapped her hands together. “Catherine! You have to help me. Please. Just — a few lessons to tide them over, until we find the new permanent instructor.”

Catherine said, “Yeah, no, I don’t like kids.” She received a swift elbow to the stomach. “Ouch! Shamir, what the hell?”

Shamir turned to Parvati. “She will help you.”

Parvati gasped. “She will?”

Catherine growled. “I will?”

Shamir imagined punching Catherine in the face. How was the Prime Knight of Seiros this bovine? This was the perfect way to keep a closer eye on Parvati. 

Something about Shamir’s look of absolute contempt got across to Catherine. The Prime Knight’s eyes lit with recognition. She immediately turned to Parvati and declared, “I will!”

“Oh thank the gods!” said Parvati. 

“Of course! The Mock Battles are coming up! There’s no way I’m letting the Blue Lions lose this!”

Parvati looked like she was about to cry. “Thank you so much, Catherine! Yesterday feels like a thousand years ago. This feels like the first thing going my way.”

Catherine nodded. “I won’t be available to give instruction all the time, but if you have need of me when I’m not on missions…”

“I’ll pitch in as well,” Shamir added.

“You would?” said Parvati. “I could kiss you!”

Shamir looked at her. “I could accept money instead.”

Parvati laughed uncomfortably. “I just spent my last pay on — you know what? Never mind.”

Shamir shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll just consider that light you gave me as payment.”

Parvati blinked. “You would? Really?”

“Oh, that’s a good way to look at it,” said Catherine. She smiled at Parvati. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t need payment. I’ve got my ego on the line here!”

Parvati laughed. “I’ll tell the Blue Lions at Advisory today. They’ll be so happy!”

“Yeah!” said Catherine. “Not only do they have one instructor, they’ll have two instructors!”

Parvati bowed to them. “I don’t want this to be an extraordinary commitment. Would you like to just limit it to a few seminars this month?”

“We’ll play it by ear,” Shamir said. “For sure this month, but some months, we might be busy.”

“We have to get going for now,” said Catherine, “but let’s meet after school for scheduling.”


“We’re going to have two instructors?” asked Mercedes at the Blue Lions Advisory. 

“How did you pull off that move?” asked Sylvain.

Parvati shrugged. “I just asked them.”

“So who are they?” Felix asked, paying attention for once. 

When Parvati told them, the class went ballistic.

“You got us Catherine?” asked Ingrid, pounding her hands on the table. “The one with the Thunderbrand, Catherine?”

Parvati had never seen Ingrid so overjoyed. “Oh yeah,” said Parvati. “I forgot she was famous.”

“You forgot?” said Prince Dimitri. 

Apparently Garreg Mach was starting to have that effect: the one where Parvati was making expert connections, but dealt with them so casually she forgot they were important and stuff.

“And Shamir as well?” asked Ashe. 

“Hmph,” Felix smirked. “I guess you’re not completely useless, after all. Good job, Professor.”

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult,” Parvati said.

“Take it as a compliment!” Annette said, excited. “Pheeeew! I thought the Golden Deer would kick our butts!”

Ingrid and Sylvain looked at her. “Why would you think such a thing?” asked Sylvain. 

“Well, we didn’t have a combat instructor,” said Annette, “and the Three Houses Mock Battle is coming up. I’m sure you can hold your own in battle — but that’s true for everyone. Meanwhile, they all have combat professors. I was certain that was a step up.”

Parvati nodded. “To be honest, I wasn’t meant to be your professor.”

The Blue Lions looked at her. “You’re not?” asked Annette.

Parvati shook her head. “I was brought in to be your mathematics and Ancient Technology instructor. But something happened to Aelfric, the Blue Lions’ original instructor.”

“There’s also Jeritza,” said Felix.

Annette said, “I’m not entirely sure he is a professor.” She looked to Parvati.

When the entire Blue Lions classroom continued looking at Parvati, she said, “Who?”

“Jeritza,” said Felix. “The other combat instructor. Jeritza.”

Parvati looked from one student to another. “You mean…there was…” She narrowed her eyes. “There was another…Professor…at this Academy?”

“You don’t know him?” asked Sylvain. “That’s…strange.”

“It is, Sylvain, it is,” Parvati noted, trying to wrap her head around how, in this Academy, one professor disappeared and suddenly another appeared. “Anyways, these are the combat instructors we’ll have for at least this month. In the meanwhile, I’ll try to find us other combat instructors. I wouldn’t want to wear them out. I do regret not having one instructor who can see you continuously as you progress…”

“It’s all right, Professor.” Sylvain looked at her like she was insane. “You got Catherine.”

“And Shamir,” Ashe reminded again. “In fact, this might be fantastic! We’re going to have so many different viewpoints. Let’s stick to positives, Professor! We have advantages.”

“I still have to find an instructor for you magic users, but…” Parvati’s shoulders drooped with relief. She didn’t mind getting help thinking about positives. She said, “Consider this a lesson when it comes to networking. You never know when you’ll have to make friends and what you’ll have to ask of them. Until then…I’ll get more information from Catherine.”


That morning, the students of the Officer’s Academy discovered that the laid back professor they knew in Ancient Technology would not make an appearance in their math class.

“I thought you were cool!” said Caspar. “But now you’re a slave driver! What happened? Are you even the same person?”

Parvati laughed. “My college students said the same thing. Ancient Technology is a lot of mystery and discussion. Mathematics is about knowing things and application. Just consider me two different professors and you’ll get through it just fine.”

Caspar contributed much grumbling for the rest of the period. They were in the same room as the Technology class. For mathematics, however, she had all the lights white, at max power — the kind of lighting the students had never experienced before. 

“I don’t think I can fall asleep with all this light,” Lindhardt complained to her. Parvati was unsure what to say to him, but lo and behold, Lindhardt slept through the entire Advanced class. 

This was the moment Parvati realized Lindhardt was the student who didn’t make it to Garreg Mach during the student orientation. The one whose retinue showed up without him. She had pinned so many hopes on him and Annette, the two students who scored full marks on the mathematics pretest. She thought perhaps they might be interested in being teaching assistants for the math courses. While Lindhardt slept, half of those dreams shattered.

Then there was Lorenz, who was salty not to have been placed in the Advanced Class. (He was in Basic.) And there was Ignatz, in the Standard class, doodling in his notebook in the back tables. Felix was also in Standard, sitting in the way back. He kept looking across the table to look at what Ignatz was doodling.

When she finished teaching all three mathematics courses, she stretched and congratulated herself. “There! I did it!” 

No one asking to unenroll from her classes this time.

No warning today from Seteth. She shuddered. 

Parvati turned out the lights and looked forward to a few hours to wind down before she had to go looking for Catherine. A walk. What she needed was a walk. She cooed in glee to herself as she closed the door to her classroom and headed out.


Parvati didn’t make it to her walk. Five minutes into her walk, she was accosted by Dorothea in the courtyards. Six words into what Dorothea was saying and they both were pounced upon by Ferdinand and a proposal.

“You want to get tea with me?” said Parvati.

“Why, yes, of course!” said Ferdinand. 

“I’m not wearing anything nice enough for tea,” she said, trying to reclaim an afternoon to herself and hoping he would get a hint.

What was she thinking? She was talking to Ferdinand, who said, “Just come wearing what you’re wearing!”

Dorothea frowned. “And where will we be having tea, milord?”

Ferdinand looked at her like he was surprised to see her. He answered a different question than the one she asked: “Yes, of course you could join us!”

Within fifteen minutes, Parvati learned that tea with Dorothea and Ferdinand was an absolute disaster. They took a spot at an open table in one of the courtyards, and Ferdinand had called for his valet to bring out his own tea set. As they waited for the tea to finish steeping, Parvati found herself quite literally in the middle of an argument.

“Flattery?” Ferdinand, sitting to her left, was saying. “No, I was not… There you go with that attitude again. Why do you reserve such cold treatment for me, and me alone? Do you hate me, Dorothea?” Here Parvati’s eyes bugged out. “Or have you some other reason to avoid my company?” Ferdinand continued.

“I underestimated you. I assumed your noble upbringing had dulled your perception,” said Dorothea, sitting on Parvati’s right. “But you got it right on your first try. I hate you.”

Parvati focused on her steeping chamomile tea, thinking, Why am I here why am I here why am I here why am I here why am I here —  

“Huh. I was right,” said Ferdinand. “Might I ask why you find me so despicable? I can scarcely guess.”

“Don’t waste another minute thinking about it,” Dorothea responded. 

“That will not do. I do not think you would hate a person for no reason.”

“Hm, perhaps. How’s this? If you can guess why, I’ll let you know if you’re right. The brains of us common folk are so simple, it should be pretty easy for a big-shot noble to sort out.”

Woooow! thought Parvati. Dorothea had some serious ovaries. Parvati could never imagine saying something like that. She was almost jealous. But she was mostly pretending to be invisible.

“Very well, I cannot walk away from a challenge. I have no choice but to chance a guess,” said Ferdinand. “You are always making fun, calling me a ‘big shot’ and so forth. Perhaps you think all nobles are… No, it could not be that simple.”

“Oh? What can’t be that simple?” Dorothea said with a bit a laugh.

Parvati sipped her tea.

“Please,” Ferdinand pleaded, “will you not give me a clue?”

“What do you think, Professor?” asked Dorothea. “What should we give him as a clue?”

Time stopped in this moment for Parvati. 

On the left hand, was Ferdinand, the son of her employer, on whom she pinned the highest of hopes to make her future sponsor. 

On the right hand was Dorothea, a talented, brilliant commoner with whom Parvati truly aligned, and had privately earmarked to lift. 

Said commoner was also a brilliant smooth-talker who had just effortlessly co-opted Parvati to presumably be on her side. 

Both students looked at her. 

How was she going to get through this? If she did this wrong, she might lose the respect of one of them — if not both. 

She chose both, apparently, because she said “What?” with a mouthful of tea and it all came dribbling out of her mouth. “Excuse me,” she said, mortified. She pressed a napkin along the wet spots on the bosom of her turtleneck, realized that was weird, went to put down her teacup, realized maybe she could “spill” her tea and be done with this, failed to make that look like she wasn’t knocking it over on purpose, then said in a strangled voice, “Oh no, I have no more tea. How…sad. I must go. I have to find Catherine.”

Her students watched the whole thing start to finish, speechless. They let her carry the bleeding mass of her wounded pride on the wet spots on her bosom as she scurried away. At least it’s black, she kept thinking about the turtleneck, trying to console herself. No one would see the wet spots. Meanwhile, she hoped she never would have to see those students ever again in her life.


“What happened to you?” asked Manuela when Parvati dragged herself into the evening staff meeting. The faculty meetings usually happened in the mornings, but Hanneman had managed to schedule a barber’s appointment with a much-in-demand barber, so they had all agreed to meet during the evening instead for once. 

“Oh hey, Beautiful,” Parvati intoned like an undead. She relayed her teatime adventures with Dorothea and Ferdinand while massaging her temples. “They are both magnificent people, but I can’t stop them,” she said. “I just — they won’t stop fighting. I can’t make them stop. I just can’t.” She took a seat with the other professors in the Common Room, then said, “How do I escape my students?”

Hanneman exchanged a glance with Seteth. “I have no advice for you, unfortunately,” he said. “I have never had the problem of being popular. My students are usually running away from me.”

Parvati turned to Manuela. “You’re an opera diva! Surely you have experience with this!”

“I most certainly do,” said Manuela. “The key is to establish strong barriers. You can’t let people take your time just because they ask to. You simply say no.”

“What about when students ask why?”

“The best way to deal with coming up with reasons to that question,” said Seteth, “is to not come up with them. You need not indulge them with justifications, Professor Parvati. You are their professor. Just say no.”

Parvati made a sound of discomfort that made it clear she was unconvinced. Then she said, “I do have to hand it to Dorothea, though. That girl’s got nerves of steel. I’m envious. …I wish she were nobility. I would love to work for her.”

“She would be nobility if she got married to one of the noble students,” Manuela said, analyzing her nail polish. “If you want that so badly, perhaps that can be arranged?” She gave Parvati a meaningful look.

Parvati narrowed her eyes. “Are you suggesting — ”

Seteth cut her off. “I’d like to remind us all that we are here for a faculty meeting, not to gossip about students.”

“Oh don’t be a bore," Manuela said with a dismissive wave. "That is exactly what we are here for.”

From across the table, Parvati grinned.

“I am actually fantastic at matchmaking,” Manuela said to Parvati. “I’ve done it for six couples. It is a one hundred percent success rate.”

“Wow,” said Parvati, looking across the table at Seteth and not seeing him. She narrowed her eyes and whispered, “He must be worthy.”

Seteth slapped his hands upon the table. “I am not paying the two of you to play matchmakers!”

“Of course,” said Manuela, looking at her hands, “the irony of this talent is not lost upon me.” 

Seteth winced. Manuela love life was already publicly known to be atrocious — full of getting drunk at bars, bringing home men who couldn’t outdrink her, and then chasing them away the next morning when they realized how insecure and clingy she was. It seemed Parvati had come to learn of it too, for she reached across the table and took Manueala’s hand with an intense look. “Manuela, if you and I are still not yet married in five years,” she said, “I will marry you.”

“Well, that’s depressing,” said Manuela, displeased. “You have so little faith in me?”

Parvati protested, “Th-That’s — not what I meant!”

Seteth could feel an oncoming headache. He had less power at these faculty meetings than he thought. 

“My first post-opera marriage proposal, and it’s not even real!” said Manuela. “And, it came from a woman! I am not interested in women.”

“You mean — ” Parvati put a dramatic wrist to her forehead. “I’m not good enough for you?”

Seteth groaned, “You’re as bad as Sylvain.”

“I am not! Don’t say that!” she snapped. “I am nothing like him! This is just — me and Manuela joking!” 

“I’m not joking,” Manuela said, resting one despairing, squished cheek in her hand. 

Seteth looked at Parvati. “In all seriousness,” he said, “if you’re truly looking to get away from people, I suggest flying. It’s my preferred way to get away. Try renting a pegasus or wyvern out. It is free. They will even give you lessons.”

He had Parvati’s full attention. “Did you say…free?” she said.

“Of course, to OA students, staff and faculty.”

Parvati mouthed the word again. Free! 

Seteth shook his head. “Now, can we please get back to our faculty meeting?”

Chapter 21: Our Little Secret

Notes:

OOOOH I just can’t sit on this chapter anymore. I’ve been waiting to post this chapter in The Lion and the Lotus for a year now. At last: it is happening! Ah! How good it feels! To have seen a scene and waited to write it or post it for years long -- and then finally do it! Sometimes I lose hope I’ll never get to Scene X or Scene Y...but these are the moments my heart is made light! When I provide myself the proof myself, that it can happen! 

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

For one certain Flayn of the Garreg Mach Monastery, meeting Professor Parvati and Commander Randolph had been an interesting affair. It was witnessing a certain event the evening afterwards, however, that imprinted the two of them deep into a special place in her heart. 

It was the day the Prince of Faerghus would be arriving, so just as the Monastery had done for the Grand Entrance of the future Empress of Adrestia and the future Duke of the Alliance, the staff personnel of the Monastery gathered in lines up and down the stairs of the Entrance Hall. This was how Flayn came to be, along with her father and Alois, amongst the grooms and pages, maids and launderers, cooks and confectioners of all of Garreg Mach. The entrance of the Prince was to be a grand procession, and Flayn could hardly wait to see him come in.

Well, the Prince’s entrance was the part that Flayn had forgotten that day, because, before the Prince came in, Flayn witnessed something else. 

When the bells started booming, and a cold wind swept up from the doors and drew goosebumps across the flesh of all who were there, there, at the very bottom of three flights of stairs was Professor Parvati and Commander Randolph. Flayn did not actually recognize either of them at first. It was only on picking out that thigh-length silver braid that Flayn recognized them both. What she saw was Commander Randolph saying something frantically to Professor Parvati. And then, suddenly, he swooped down, collected Parvati’s face, and pulled her into his intense kiss.

Flayn’s father yelped.“What are they doing?” And then his hand came over Flayn’s eyes. 

She yanked Seteth’s hand off of her face and leaned forward. How rare! What an ardent display! And in the Monastery? Never so flagrant a public display had the Monastery known! Certainly not on religious grounds! 

Professor Parvati had been on the tips of her toes to meet the Commander in his kiss. And what she did with her hands was so tender, cupping his hands in hers — his hands, which, in turn, cupped her face. And when their lips parted, she did not let go of his hands without first grazing her lips across his fingertips. They held each other’s gaze, breathing hard together for one moment. And then Parvati had to turn away, and just the same he was gone, and with heart falling, Flayn lost sight of both of them.

When the Prince arrived, Flayn’s heart was racing. As the knights passed, as the prince passed, as did the marching band, Flayn clapped unseeing,. That kiss had quite taken her breath away, and no amount of fanfare in the world around her could match the swoop in her heart as she saw it again: the look in the professor’s eyes as her lips lingered upon the commander’s fingertips. 

What truly fixated Flayn was simple: the professor kissed his hand. Flayn didn’t know a woman could do that for a man.

Then came the day Flayn found the professor sitting on her own, with her fork stuck in the air with a piece of chicken on it, her eyes scanning across a page full of something much more tasty. Flayn announced herself to the professor, got no response, and walked around the edge of her round lunch table to look at the book she was reading.

It was a romance novel.

Flayn had never seen a romance novel, not inside the Monastery. She had learned from Claude just yesterday, that her father, that cur, had been sweeping clean the shelves of the library of all media of contemporary entertainment, maintaining that this was an institution of learning and must reflect as such. For the professor to be reading this work, in the cafeteria — in such the public place! Flayn’s jaw dropped. Seteth’s policy must not yet be known to the professor!

Flayn quickly scanned the back cover before, like some mythic beast, the book could disappear. The top of the back cover was populated by titles by the same author:

The Earl and His Pearl
The Duchess Quite Fairly
A Day Drink Delight
Sweet Duchess Demise
Whisper Solemn, Love of Mine
Love Vainglorious
The Almyran Tyrant Surprise

Duscur Luster
Five Days in Nuvelle

The professor’s hand was in the way of the summary.

“Can I help you?” the professor snapped, slapping the book down onto the table before Flayn got a peek at the front cover.

Flayn jumped, startled. “I was wondering, Professor… Could I, perhaps, read this book, please?”

The professor was hesitant. “This one’s my favorite one…it’s my stress book. And I need it now.” She furrowed her brows, then said, “Why don’t I get you a different one?”

“A different one?” Flayn asked, astonished. “You have…another one?”

The professor gave her a funny look. “Not the same one, obviously.”

Flayn’s tummy and jaws were both tingling so much she couldn’t speak for a full minute. Parvati put a finger under Flayn’s jaw-dropped mouth and closed it for her. “Before a bug gets in,” the professor said.

Flayn didn’t have time to ask the mathematics professor what she meant because the next thing Professor Parvati said was to come to the Blue Lions classroom after class tomorrow morning. She would have a book for Flayn.

The next eight hours, Flayn floated here and there about the Monastery in a haze. She wondered what the book would be about. She wondered if there was a brooding prince or a cursed princess in it. Childhood friends, separated by tragedy? A tryst? A…forbidden…kiss?

She thought about this as she cast her line for a fish.

She thought about this as she flew on the wind.

She thought about this as she sang evening hymns.

She was so quiet during dinner in their apartment, Seteth asked what was wrong.

“Nothing, Father!” Flayn insisted, racing through the rest of her meal so she could escape into her thoughts as she washed dishes in the sink, then brushed her teeth and combed her hair and set her clothes out for the next day.

Then she realized, she needed to make plans.

Her father had had so many loves. In the ten times she had awakened over the last one thousand years, a new soul, kind and lovely, was ever at his side. A new mother, another mother, who would take Flayn warmly into her arms.

How, now, had he become such a ruthless prude?

She planned for where she would hide the book. She planned where she would read it. She carried her plans into her dreams and came out of those dreams with even more plans, and still it was too early. Flayn pawed her way out of her curtained, four poster bed, made herself ready, and took her tea and madeleines to the window.

Her father’s penthouse suite extended the complete length of the eighth floor of this residential building. It was tall enough to look over the adjacent Faculty Hall and see the sun rise between the shoulders of the eastern mountains. Flayn blew on her tea and dipped a Madeleine in it, the glass of the window fogging up from the redirected steam. When she wiped the steam off the window with her elbow, Flayn gave a little gasp at what she was seeing.

She set her cup of tea down and stuck the Madeleine in her mouth. It melted hot in her mouth, and she yelped. Nonetheless, she lost no time. She unlocked the window. She slid it up. She stuck her head out the window and verified. Yes indeed. She truly had been seeing what she thought she was seeing.

Flayn was accustomed to seeing Alois come out to smoke on his balcony in the adjacent Faculty Hall during the evenings. She could sometimes even spot Shamir’s feet in the afternoons. The archer liked to lounge, reading with her feet propped up on a bucket. The rest of her body would, naturally, be obscured by the wall of drying clothes she had strung up around her balcony, to secure at least some modicum of privacy. But now, during daybreak, who did Flayn see upon her balcony?

Professor Parvati. 

The professor had her head tilted left, running a comb through the top half of her long, long, silver hair. Flayn didn’t realize quite truly how long! After all, the longer a braid of hair, the more it had to have twisted, and the more it had have shortened. Professor Parvati’s hair now, pulled taut from a recent bath, reached almost down to her knees! It was so long, the professor couldn’t reach the bottom half with her arm! 

Flayn watched the process, fascinated. Once the professor had brushed the top half, she moved the brushed half into a coil over the back of her shoulder. This pulled up the bottom half to within arm’s reach, so she could then resume combing. The professor stopped sometimes to shake water droplets out of the comb. Or was the professor perhaps shaking out her wrists? Her hands must get tired from brushing so!

“Flayn! What are you doing over there? You are letting in the cold!” came Seteth’s voice from behind her. He was in the center of the kitchen, in his bathrobe, and he scowled at the softness of an orange as he said, “Why are you dressed already? Where will you go?”

For all her plans, she managed to miss planning for this one question. Flayn slid shut the window and opted to fill her mouth with tea in an attempt to sidestep answering them. Sadly, her tea had gotten cold. As she floundered, her father made his way to the window. 

“Beautiful,” he said, with one contented sigh.

Flayn pressed her face against the glass as she said, “I know, isn’t she?”

“What?” This is when Seteth noticed the object of Flayn’s attention. “Oh. As her superior, I cannot have an opinion.”

Flayn gave him an unimpressed look.

“Look at that! How does she manage her hair? It’s long enough to sweep with!”

Father!

“I only speak the truth!”  

Flayn promised herself Professor Parvati would never, ever hear of this. How else could her father scare her away? Honestly, Flayn worried, he would ruin everything!

Fifty minutes later was still fifteen minutes too early for even the beginning of the Advisory class. Nonetheless, Flayn found herself loitering outside the Blue Lions classroom.

“I had a feeling this would happen,” Professor Parvati said when she saw Flayn.

Flayn bounded up to her. “Professor!”

Professor Parvati had come barely in time for a class that should begin in one minute. Not an early bird like Flayn’s father. Blue Lions students looked curiously Flayn’s way as they passed by.

“Professor! I have been waiting! I have been so excited! I have almost had not a wink of sleep!”

“Well, did you get at least two winks?” Parvati asked her. “Sleeping is done by closing both eyes, after all.”

Flayn blinked. “Professor… That joke lands dangerously in Alois territory.”

Parvati chuckled. “Oh, yes! I love Alois!”

Flayn shook her head. Then, she watched closely as the professor opened the top flap of her bag. She tried not to peek too obviously. The book Parvati withdrew was — somewhat smaller than what Flayn expected. She accepted it.

The Gloucester Roster?” Flayn read aloud.

Parvati glanced into the Blue Lions classroom — where three of the students blatantly stared back — and took Flayn aside by the elbow to beyond the doorway, where they could whisper in private. She said, “This is the first novel.”

“The — first?” That meant Flayn didn’t have to be disappointed about it being so small! Flayn took a look at the cover art and immediately pressed it to her skirt. “Does this mean…do you have the other novels?”

Parvati thought for a moment. “I think I have the second one…and the last…not sure about the third.”

“That is — quite fine!” said Flayn, giddy in the brain. She thanked the professor and was on her way.

And it was everything she wanted.

The next day, she returned to the Blue Lions class. Her heart was absolutely jubilant. What a wild ride it had been! It was about a cursed princess, and a knight who taught her to love herself. There were laughs, there were tears, there were contented sighs, and lots of poetry and tea. She was fairly certain her father would approve of this one, if it hadn’t been for the — ooh! — that cover art.

When Flayn arrived the next morning, there was no one inside the class. She waited outside for about fifteen minutes, but then it got too cold and she took shelter instead. She took a spot in the class. She sat in a chair, at a desk. She had never before attended a class. Her mother and father had taught her everything, and it wasn’t until she had awoken this time that she found out, her father was now the principal of a prestigious academy.

She swung her hanging legs and looked around. This is what it would look like if she attended class. On her left, would be another student. Someone who looked her age. Maybe…a friend… And on her right, would be another student. Another person who looked her age. Maybe another friend. Come to think of it, she had been here for over a year and a half. How could the daughter of the principal of the academy not be taking classes in one? It would be easy. She surely knew already everything they came to learn. Why, this was preposterous! Why wasn’t she in a class?

“Flayn?”

Flayn whirled around. It was Ignatz, a student she had met in the Cathedral. He had been surprised by how much she looked like the statue of St. Cethleann.

He pushed up his glasses and stuck his head into the classroom. “What are you doing, Flayn?”

“Oh! I was wondering…when does Advisory begin?”

“Advisory? There is no Advisory. That only happens on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”

Flayn was crushed. She slid the book behind her, out of sight of Ignatz, as she processed this. In only one day, she had finished the book. She needed the second one now. She had already made plans to just curl up in bed and read the afternoon away. If her father had questions, she’d slip the book into her pillowcase and claim to be tired today. She had even acquired milk and cookies! But this terrible news from Ignatz left her so distressed, she hurried back to her apartment and sobbed. Then she decided, she would just read the first book again.

The next day, Flayn met Parvati properly after the class this time. Again, the Blue Lions students glanced at her, curious, but from what Flayn had heard, they had to be at the training grounds right away. When the professor approached, Flayn started gushing about The Gloucester Roster. “I even read it twice!” she said.

Parvati said she was happy to have found a fellow fan, and on Flayn’s favorite character, she said, “Oh yes, he is my favorite too. Isn’t he lovely?”

Flayn paused, looked up and down the Three Houses hall to see if her father was anywhere near…and then leaned in conspiratorially, for she had never said this about any boy or man before. She said, “Yes. He is lovely!”

She felt like it was magic. Like she had crossed some invisible threshold. She had said such words aloud, about a boy! She would never go back to being innocent again! The deed was done! This was one step in maturing that she would never have to do again!

Then she asked for the next book. Parvati was surprised. “Oh, I didn’t bring the next book, Flayn. I woke up late today…” She trailed off when she saw the impact her words were making on Flayn’s face. Then she said, “H-Hold on…I’ll… I’m sure I can make time to head back to my apartment to get it.”

She met Flayn after her Standard Mathematics class. The exchange was made with no words, but one mysterious grin. Professor Parvati waved Flayn away with a sing-song “Have fu-uuun!

“What was that?” asked the other redhead student as he stopped outside the hall to see what Parvati was doing. Flayn mistook him for Sylvain and ran away, but Parvati maintained a mysterious grin as she considered Ferdinand. She slipped back out The Gloucester Roster, since all the other students had walked away, and put it in Ferdinand’s hands.

He read the back of it before flipping it to the front. His eyes went wide. “It’s — romance.”

Parvati smiled. “It’s the joy in my blood and bones.”

Ferdinand looked at it hard and threw it back into Parvati’s hands like it was a hot item, fresh out of the black market. He didn’t want to be caught holding it.

But Professor Parvati bounded it back to him. “Oh come now, romance is also for boys. Don’t be shy.”

Ferdinand was turning as red as his hair as he looked down the hall — he truly was curious… — and jammed it in between the textbooks in his arms. He said, “I must away!”

Professor Parvati’s shoulders shook with her laughter. She had no idea in what way she had just become an agent of chaos.

Meanwhile, Friday came by, and so did Flayn. But this time, Flayn was met with a horror.

You don’t have the third book?” Flayn squealed.

Parvati shook her head. “I already told you. Why don’t you just check in the library? This is an incredibly popular series, by an incredibly popular author. They are bound to have it.”

Flayn shook her head. “Professor, you don’t understand!” She explained that all the romance books had been banned by Seteth. And all the mystery books. And all the horror books. And, actually, all the novels. And many things aside from that.

Parvati stared at her, her eyes so wide they were round like a fish. “He — I — what?”

And in this way the professor discovered she had been handing Flayn — contraband.

But that wasn’t her biggest concern. She said, “This can’t be, Flayn! Are you telling me — you mean the only books that I have right now — are the ones in my own, hackneyed down, stockpile?”

“Professor, you must, must get it for me! Please, Professor, you must get me the third! …Or — can I read the next?”

Here, the professor turned into a demon, saying, “No!”

Flayn flinched.

Parvati said, “You cannot skip the third!”

“But can’t I go back and read it later?”

Parvati shook her head vigorously. “No! The damage cannot be undone! You can’t read out of order, Flayn! That is not how it’s done! …It’s against the law!”

For a moment, Flayn thought it was Seteth’s voice coming out of the professor’s mouth. This sudden, confounding, irrational stubbornness was not something she wanted to see in the professor. She said, “How long before you can get your hands on the third book?”

This was how they became a pair of accidental but true conspirators. 

Professor Parvati muttered to herself about “supply chain” and “the process” and something like, “This could take a couple of weeks.”

Flayn felt herself turn into a husk, a shell. She said, “I… I can’t survive for weeks…” She begged Parvati to get back the copy of the first novel. “I’ll make do reading these two over and over again.”

Parvati grimaced. “Somebody else has that novel.”

Flayn looked at her. “Someone else? Who?” Did this mean…she could have someone to talk to…? Besides the professor! A…student!

Professor Parvati killed that hope before it began. She told Flayn, “I can’t tell you. But I can let you…read a few of the other books instead. I’ll have to reread them to ensure they are mild.” She looked at Flayn. “Have I been handing you contraband?”

This was the third time they were meeting in the classroom of the Blue Lions. They were now getting used to huddling near the table in the front, or even better, at the blackboard, in the corner, which hosted a kind of chicken scratch Flayn felt sorry the other students had to read.

Flayn threw up her hands and shook her head in alarm. “Don’t worry. I’m very careful, Professor! I know how to hide things well!”

Professor Parvati looked reassured (this would be her first mistake) and muttered angrily (her second mistake). She said, “How dare he? Just because he doesn’t appreciate it doesn’t make it less valid. They carry the people through dark times — and these are becoming such dark times, little Flayn.”

“I’m not little!”

“Such dark times indeed…” Parvati put her hands upon Flayn’s arms and said, “This is our little secret, okay?”

Flayn looked into her eyes and nodded gravely.

And from on high, up in the Blue Lions classroom’s rafters, Shamir nodded as well.

“Our little secret.”

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! I hope it made you as giddy as I was -- I was smiling the entire time writing this chapter. 😍 Ciao for now!

Chapter 22: Holiday Special: Flying Lessons with Flayn

Chapter Text

Flayn was following her. 

Parvati checked again. Yes, indeed, Flayn was definitely following her. 

Five weeks into her time as an instructor at the Officer’s Academy, Parvati was coming to realize that perhaps this was as adjusted as she was going to get to the workload of three math classes, Ancient Technology, and worst of all — waking up at an ungodly hour to attend the one class she hated most: Blue Lions Advisory. Because it started at 07:30am, it crashed into her natural night owl routine, and always came back to punish her after each weekend. She would wake up grouchy, swallow hot coffee, move through the motions like an undead to make it to the end of the schooldays, and wind up too unmotivated and exhausted to even think about her research.

Which was not why she came to the Officer’s Academy.

Parvati felt a pit in her stomach. The annual Arundel Conference would be in a few months. Academics from all around the world came to present their work and compete for titles and awards. She’d spent so many months preparing to come to Garreg Mach, she hadn’t spent time working on the next papers she would submit, and the submission deadline was coming up. She thought she would have some time on her hands. She just — didn’t think teaching high school students was going to be so difficult! 

But, again, Randolph’s voice in her head: A school full of royals.

Parvati sighed as she followed the signs for the pegasus stables. She had just departed from a faculty meeting and remembered that, in one of the previous meetings, Seteth had suggested taking flying lessons to get away from the kids. And now, she was trying to get away from his kid — his kid sister, that is. Dammit, she encouraged this, with all those romance novels. She did this to herself, shit shit shit. And now she was seriously considering his suggestion. Because apparently walking away and running away was no longer good enough. 

She could feel the Universe mocking her with every step. It was saying, Come on. You’re at the Officer’s Academy. Of course it’s extreme. Everything is.  

If she could just get some extreme sleep and some extreme alone time and some extreme research, she would be very happy. But no. Her brain was not going to oblige her today and she knew it. Might as well learn something that would help her recharge herself so it would help her later.

Parvati glanced over her shoulder. Flayn’s pigtails were right there. Parvati squealed.

“Professor!” said Flayn, eyes dancing. “Are you heading to the pegasus stables?”

No, Parvati was trying to slow down her heart rate. All she could say was, “Huh?” The last three times Parvati looked her way, Flayn had dashed into the bushes or started examining a line of ants. Now the girl wasn’t even trying to hide.

Flayn said, “Let me accompany you there.”

Parvati facepalmed on the inside. “How did — uh — how did you know I was going there?”

“Well, the wyverns are in another direction.”

“Oh,” said Parvati. “I don’t even know where we have wyvern stables here.”

Flayn tittered. “Wyverns don’t stay in stables, Professor! They stay in caves! There are a lot of caves underneath this mountain, along the northern cliffside.”

Parvati blinked. “Then how do you get to them?”

“Well, you don’t,” Flayn said. “You must convince them to come out with Summons. Either that, or you use another wyvern to fly into their caves.”

Parvati frowned. “That’s not very convenient…”

“And it’s dangerous,” said Flayn. “They’re territorial. They don’t welcome you into their caves.” 

Parvati lagged behind as Flayn led the way. She was beyond peopled-out right now and she didn’t have it in her to treat Flayn with the gushing attention she usually devoted to cute children. The girl didn’t seem to notice that Parvati was tired. It seemed most of the OA students either did not notice or chose to ignore it in their excitement. Then it occurred to her to wonder why Flayn knew Parvati was searching for flying lessons to begin with. No one said anything about wyverns.

Oh no…thought Parvati again. What if — what if Seteth — ? Parvati tried not to let the dread show on her face. It could just be something he mentioned offhandedly. What else would Seteth mention offhandedly in hearing range of his little sister? Oh great, thought Parvati. Which one should she be more wary of — her boss? Or his sister? 

“I happen to be quite talented in flying pegasi,” informed Flayn. “If you would like, I would be happy to give you instruction.”

“Oh!” said Parvati, as it all became emphatically clear: the one she should be most afraid of was his sister.

“Please let me teach you!” said Flayn. “It is a unique opportunity, to introduce someone to the wonders of flight! Nothing compares to it!” 

This is a bad idea, thought Parvati. And because she still hadn’t learned how to say no, and because she didn’t know how to turn down her boss’s sister, she said, “That would be lovely!” 

She didn’t get to the part about not wanting to start today: Flayn was already talking. “Very well! It is a matter of four steps! For choosing your pegasus. After that, we’ll review the flying steps!”

Review? thought Parvati, flabbergasted. She hadn’t even learned them yet! 


Somewhere south of the Monastery, Ashe of the Blue Lions had come out to the marketplace for some last-minute shopping before the market closed. That is when he saw her. Petra. 

Petra was a student in the Black Eagles, a princess of Brigid under the “protection” of the Adrestian Emperor. And, by “protection” it was really code for hostage — as she was the heir and granddaughter of the King of Brigid, who had recently warred against the Empire — and lost. She was driven, genuine and goodhearted, and from what Ashe understood, unfettered by the frustration, vengeance and resentment he would have expected from her — a girl taken away from her family, her people, and her home — and used to force the submission of an entire people.

Oh, is that Petra? thought Ashe. Looks like she's out shopping. Then he noticed she was brandishing a sword, and she didn’t look like she was shopping anymore.

“Trust me, kid,” said the red-haired merchant staring Petra down. “You don’t want to waste your life trying to beat me at… Huh?”

Ashe ran over to the merchant’s cart. “Petra! What are you doing? Why are you fighting? Wh-what did she say?”

“I was asked to be coming here and do the shopping,” said Petra, “but then this merchant gave me her challenge!” Petra indicated the woman with her sword.

The merchant backed away with her hands in the air, saying, “Whoa, whoa! What is going on here?”

Oh no, thought Ashe. Petra was still learning Angrais, the common language of Fódlan, and her linguistic missteps were endearing. But in this case, it was getting her into trouble. He stepped in.

“This has to be a misunderstanding!” said Ashe, motioning for her to put away the sword. “Look, I'll help you. What were you trying to buy?”

Petra told him about how she had been sent out to restock the Black Eagles’ vulneraries. Ashe was so relieved, he assured her he could clear things up. He bargained with — Anna, said the merchant’s lapel — trying to ignore the high-pitched ringing he was randomly hearing in his ear as he insisted on a deeper discount for this lady’s way-overpriced items.

“Hmph. You drive a hard bargain,” said Anna with a frown. “Fine, twenty percent. But you better be grateful!”

Ashe and Petra exchanged victorious smiles as Anna bagged fifteen vulneraries for them. The ringing in his ear was getting louder as he reached for the bag. He swatted at it — maybe there was a fly — and followed Petra to a cart smoking meat on a grill.

“The shopping was successful!” said Petra. “You have my gratitude, Ashe.”

“Not a problem,” he said. “I’m used to this sort of — Professor?”

This was the moment Ashe realized what he had been hearing. It wasn’t his ears ringing. It wasn’t a fly. It was screaming. A distant screaming filling the air. 

The sound of screaming intensified. In the space of sky behind Petra’s head came a pegasus. Behind that pegasus was another pegasus. And Professor Parvati was dangling from the first.

Everyone in the market stopped and looked up. They looked up from sniffing Crescent Moon Tea or handing over pond snail fish bait. They stopped testing the ring of a silver shield and turning over a flank of smoking meat. From a saddle tilted sideways, Professor Parvati hung by an arm and a leg. And she was slipping. 

The pegasus careened sixty feet above the market. It was trying to right itself, trying to reseat its slipped-off rider. In its attempt to help Parvati, it barrel-rolled in the other direction, to try to pull her back up. That was not what happened. Instead of being pulled back up, the professor was sent spinning in an arc around the pegasus like a hula hoop.

Behind her, Flayn screamed. She chased after the rogue pegasus on a pegasus of her own, shouting instructions, instructions the Blue Lions Premier could not possibly hear over her own screaming.

The rogue pegasus tried its spin maneuver again, this time wheeling towards the tower of the monastery. It was the tower with the giant bells and a balcony — in fact, the very balcony on which Prince Dimitri had first seen Professor Parvati. At this rate, the professor was going to crash.

“Professor Parvati!” Ashe screamed. There was a collective gasp.

In a feat the professor would never be able to pull off again, she managed to pull herself in towards the pegasus just in time to not have her spine thwacked against the balcony railing. The pegasus veered away from the tower. It realized it needed space.

And with that, the pegasus cart-wheeled a U-turn and, just as quickly as it had entered marketplace air space, it swooped back to where it had just come from — the stables. 

Ashe could feel his heart beating in his throat. He said, “We have to go after her!” He turned to Petra. Petra wasn’t beside him. She was already running up the stairs to the monastery, heading to the stables with a heavy head start.


This moment was going to go down as one of Khalid’s favorite moments in life. 

This was the moment the Golden Deer head watched Lorenz get beaned by the professor. 

And by beaned by the professor, it wasn’t a case of Professor Parvati threw an object at Lorenz’s head. This was a case of Professor Parvati was the object thrown at Lorenz’s head.

Khalid and Lorenz were standing just outside the horse stables, arguing about something. Khalid would never remember what they were arguing about, just that they had seen Marianne talking to her horse “Dorte”, and she — mortified — was trying to make an escape. So she was just out of the stables herself.

Khalid would remember that glorious moment in three instants. 

Instant One: Lorenz’s arguing face of frustration just as he was turning away from Claude. 

Instant Two: Lorenz suddenly looking over his shoulder, because he heard the screaming, and in a split second identified an impending doom coming in from behind him. 

Instant Three: the look on his face as Professor Parvati — hanging upside down from a pegasus by just one boot stuck in the saddle — smacked right into his back with so much force, Lorenz toppled face-first into Marianne, who had been standing just beside him. Collateral damage. 

Khalid would replay it in his mind, again and again, for the rest of his life — Lorenz’s expressions: Frustration. — Danger? — AAAH!!! He’d remember this story to Lysithea over so years she would tell him to stop retelling it.

He didn’t laugh at Lorenz in that moment, of course. He was too busy running after the professor, who, having beaned the heir of Gloucester, continued onwards past the stables. She had snatched with her hands at a hedge of bushes across from the Knights’ Hall and plowed into a flowerbed so hard, the saddle on the pegasus finally came free of the beast. Now she remained motionless, lying facedown in the flowerbed.

“PROFESSOOOOR!” came the shouts of other students behind him. Khalid squatted in front of the professor, already convinced she had broken her neck. 

Petra was the first to arrive at his side. “Is she…?”

Ashe stumbled to a stop beside her and landed on his knees in the flowerbed. His hands hovered over her body, too afraid to touch her as he said, “Professor! Please don’t be dead.” His voice was fluctuating.

Professor Parvati made a grunting noise and stirred. She lifted her head and spit. Plucking the top half of a violet out of her mouth, she declared to them, “I am not…going to be…a pegasus rider!” And with that, she slapped the violet into Ashe’s still-open hand and grumbled, struggling to get back to her feet.

Ashe stared, stunned, at the violet, as Khalid and Petra broke into untamable laughter. Flayn rushed to the professor’s aid. 

“Professor, I am so sorry!”

“Someone call Seteth!”

“I am so sorry!”

Approximately ten minutes later, the Viceroy’s panicked voice carried across the yard: 

“Flayn! You did WHAT?”

Chapter 23: When Words Won’t Reach

Notes:

Hello, folks! Happy New Year! I hope yours is off to a good start!

It was fun spending time with Flayn and having some light-hearted chapters! I was burning out and I sure needed it. I jumped forward a bit for the holiday specials, but now we get to step backwards about 3 weeks in Garreg Mach and find ourselves in more serious territory again.

Thank you so much to my commenters! And to Charlotte_Minervacastle_in_the_air, Pumpkabooyah, and so many guest Kudo-ers! Now let’s dive into the story!

Chapter Text

~* Three Weeks Earlier *~

It was the open bottle of vintage scotch on his table that was first to give it away. Hanneman cursing was the next. “Well, this is damning!”

Parvati, who had just come into his office, closed the door. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“This is bad, this is bad, this is bad,” he kept saying. He was rifling through papers upon his desk and, seemingly giving up, reached for the scotch again. 

“Perhaps a cup and not the whole bottle?” Parvati asked, alarmed to see him look like Manuela.

He looked at her, stared at her like he was trying to comprehend what he was seeing, then said, “No.” Then he paced behind his desk, back and forth, back and forth, as he might have been doing for some amount of time before Parvati came in. 

“Hanneman, what is wrong?” she asked.

“This! This is what’s wrong!” He thrust a trio of loose pages at her. 

Parvati watched him, concerned, then looked at the pages. The header at the top of every page, beside the page number — von Ordelia. She looked up. “Hanneman…but you said… But these are Lysithea’s — ”

“Yes, yes! Keep reading!” he said gruffly.

She felt a squirm inside her stomach. She’d never seen Hanneman this way. She looked at the pages in her hands — page 9, page 8, page 27. Then she realized, littered across Professor Hanneman’s desk, were other pages, one of which was numbered 47. This was a long report. She watched Hanneman pace, then examined the diagram on page 27. She felt her breath leave her lungs. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” said Hanneman. “Oh yes, oh yes. This is exactly what I’ve been looking for, all along. The answer.”

Parvati looked up. She breathed, “No.” She flipped to the other page. “This can’t be the only answer.”

“And, what if it is?”

“It’s not.”

“Do not patronize me, my girl! What if it is?” 

Parvati looked up. His eyes were wild. She didn’t answer, escaped instead into diligent reading of page 9, then 8. He fell into his seat, and with a voice full of mourning, he keeled. “This…damning, damning evidence…of what Crest research could look like. So this is what progress is…when it comes to questions I need answering: can you insert a Crest into a person’s body? No, even better yet, how can you?”

Parvati put a hand over her mouth as she read the papers. “By the Eyes of Brahma…” 

Hanneman sat with his fingers interlaced with each other as he waited for her to finish. When he saw her pained expression, he nodded. "Lysithea…underwent blood experiments.” 

Parvati shook her head. “They inserted her second Crest? She did not — just have it? She was not an anomaly?”

“No. Also…not a single one of her siblings survived,” Hanneman said. "The stress took the pigment out of her hair. Her lifespan is shortened dramatically. She does not have more than nine years.” 

Parvati looked up. She was twenty-eight. Lysithea was fourteen. She would never make it to Parvati’s age.

Hanneman sank his head into his hands. “All along, this was it. All my life, I have been looking…for a way, to eradicate the inequality of the world, to eliminate the disparity between the Crests and Crestless. And this…this is what happens, when you try to do this.”

Parvati looked at him, her heart squeezing seeing him this way. 

“I thought if I could give the world Crests…to anybody, everybody…what happened to June wouldn’t — ” His voice was breaking.

“Hanneman — ”

“Parvati, this is the end.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is the end, Parvati. For me. For my research.”

“It isn’t the end. There must be other ways, or maybe — we could reduce — ” She could hear the falseness in her own voice. “ — these undue…negative effects.”

“And how would we do that? Wouldn’t testing that require blood experiments?”

Parvati frowned. “Wasn’t it going to, always?”

And then she saw the click in his eyes. That Hanneman had not considered that. The problem he had been tackling, alone, had been so tremendous he didn’t anticipate ever getting here. That someone else already did it, that someone else knew how to insert a Crest into a person, and could tell him… And now that he was at this pinnacle…

Or, maybe, he was hiding from it, a voice in the back of her mind said. The magical problem he had set out to solve was just so enormous, he thought he would never have to face the next step. He thought he would never have to face this problem, the work of actually inserting them into people….that work, what it would mean…

She felt her stomach plummet as she could see, in his eyes, the conclusion he was coming to was the same. 

Parvati tried to intercept him. She started blurting things out. “What if — that is not what happens? To someone without a Crest?”

Hanneman started gathering the pages, reordering them. He said, “I need to be alone.”

“What if this cost — is not because of the insertion process? What if it is — ”

“Parvati.” 

“Just let me finish — ”

“No.” He held his hand out, for the three pages she was holding. 

But it’s my fault, she thought. It’s my fault June didn’t even get justice! She handed the papers to him. “Please,” she said, “I want to help.”

He clipped the full document together and handed it back to her. “Then return them. To the library. Restricted section.”

Parvati stood up, hugging the document. She looked at his bottle. It was already halved. She said, “Okay, but I am also taking this.” She reached across the table and slipped it out of his fingers before he could tighten his grip.

He looked angry.

“Go eat dinner!” she commanded, her voice rising in nervousness.

He recognized it — his very own words, that he had said to her when she herself had come asking to see Lysithea’s documents. He smiled at his wrinkled hands. “I can’t.”

“You can’t not, Hanneman.”

He didn’t look up, just as he wouldn’t for many, many days. “I need to be alone.”

The word was small when she said softly, “Dad?”

“Don’t call me that.”

She looked away. “I know. I know.” She turned away. “I’m sorry.”

When she looked back, Hanneman had his eyes closed. His hands were clasped together over his stomach as he leaned back in his chair, like he was napping. She quietly pulled the door closed behind her, feeling the weight of the cold bottle in her hand. 


In her office, Parvati read through the rest of the von Ordelia document. She was ready to slip it into her drawer at a moment should any of her students drop by to ask her any questions. But it was a Friday afternoon, and it was generally quiet during office hours on those days.

Her head whirled as she read through them. The whole room around her was spinning. It was eventually a pair of boots clicking in the distance that stopped the room spinning. The boots clicked past her office. She glanced up in time to see Seteth’s cape disappear. Then the boots stopped clicking. 

Parvati opened her drawer when she heard his footsteps returning. He stopped at her doorway. “Are those the documents?” asked Seteth.

Parvati heard her voice in the distance as she said, “What?”

He said, “Do you know where Manuela went?”

She had misheard him. She dropped the documents into the drawer and closed it. “I think she went back to her apartment. She says it’s too cold here.”

“That it is,” Seteth said with a sigh. She suddenly glimpsed a man who could feel discomfort, who could feel too hot or too cold, who could, like Manuela, be irritated by it. He nodded to Parvati his thanks and disappeared from her doorway. 

Parvati sat frozen as she listened to his boots click away down the hall. She had no reason to be this strained. Hanneman had handed her these documents, and she was going to return them. It wasn’t illicit for her to be holding on to them. Still, ever since Seteth’s warning…Parvati could feel nothing but strained around him. 

After a long minute, she collapsed onto her desk, breathing the scent of the wood of the table with her head in her arms. She was so completely drained with the way her blood suddenly rushed, she slipped halfway into a dream state. There was rest there, just for a moment. Then she felt the knock on the table.

She lifted her head. It was Seteth. He pointed at the bottle on her table. He must have said something, because now he was waving. 

She yelped. “Boss! No, I’m not drinking it! I am not drinking on the job!” 

He scowled. “That is good, but that is not what I asked you. I asked you, why do you have this?” 

“Oh!” She found her voice at last. “That’s not mine. That’s Hanneman’s.”

 “I know, but how?”

Parvati told him she took it from him. “No one likes to drink in moderation here, it seems,” she joked. She looked over Seteth’s shoulder, now realizing she didn’t want her students to see it propped on her table either, and slipped the bottle into the deep, bottom drawer of her desk.

Seteth crossed his arms and said, “I gave him this particular bottle. That was before I found out he drinks alone when he is unhappy or grieving.”

“Oh,” Parvati intoned, once again exposed to the idea that Hanneman and Seteth had a bond between them. Of course there would be, Parvati reminded herself. They had been working together for years. And Hanneman recommended her to him. 

The Viceroy looked over his shoulder. “Is he — ?”

“Not now,” snapped Parvati. 

One look was enough for him to understand that something was terribly wrong. 

“Not now…but…later…” Parvati said. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She said, “Maybe tonight, if you could…?”

“I will.”

It was a surprise how much of a relief it was, to be able to rely on someone else…to reach Hanneman, when she couldn’t be the one. She didn’t eve have to finish the sentence. She smiled gratefully. 

Then it occurred to her she had just tucked away a bottle of alcohol into her desk right in front of Seteth. So he knew where she would be hiding one if she did. 

Also: the bottle that had been given to Hanneman by Seteth. 

Also, he had just caught her napping on her desk. She put it on her To Do list to bang her head against the wall whenever he left.

Now that she looked at him, she was suddenly seeing Seteth for the first time. It was almost laughable. Every single thing on his face was on completely straight: his nose, his eyebrows, the extended goatee. He wore a navy overcoat with gold Seirosi designs and silver buttons, and he was…rather…tight…in it… A large Seirosi eight-pointed star adorned his ornate belt buckle, and like Parvati, he too had a golden chain around his waist, though his was a cord that ended in three starred tassels on his right hip. And that design on his golden circlet…

Parvati said, “Seteth.” 

“Yes.”

“Your name… Is it derived from the old name? Setethis? Like Sothis?” 

“That is correct,” he said, looking surprised. 

“Does that mean everyone mispronounces it, and you should actually be called Se-TETH?” 

He looked impressed. “That is the case.” Then he said, “I don’t waste my time correcting it anymore.”  

Parvati smiled wryly. “I know that feeling. My name is actually pronounced, PAHR-vah-thee, not Par-VAT-ee, but…” She shrugged. “Oh! My apologies, Seteth. I delay you from finding Manuela.” 

Seteth smiled. “Ah, yes! I take my leave.” He turned and his cape twirled and flowed behind him. What lingered behind was the distinct musk of his cologne. She’d never noticed it before. Since he was always in the Audience Chamber, or in his office in the room next to the Audience Chamber, it was always flooded out by the scent of jasmine. 

Parvati cleared her head. Now was her chance… She had to return these documents, before she lost her nerve.


The restricted section was on the second floor. Finding where to return the documents was a piece of cake. It was so organized, the library. But it was that prickling sensation on her skin, that sense that someone was watching her, that made Parvati hesitate.   She roved away from the restricted section and meandered other shelves for a bit — Philosophy, Geography and Social Sciences  — to see if she could get a peek of who was watching her in between the shelves. No one. She ran her fingers over the tops of the spines of books in the History section, her eyes landing on a book on the founding of Faerghus. Her hand lingered on it, then she turned around and jumped.

“Shamir!” she gasped, her heart pumping.   

The archer said, “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Parvati.

“Returning a book.” Parvati couldn’t see what book she held up in the darkness.“You?”

Parvati indicated the documents in her manila file in a shrug. “Returning something for Hanneman.” She tried to catch her breath. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

“I wasn’t trying.”

Parvati made a disgruntled noise and shuffled to the restricted section. Shamir followed. As soon as Parvati flicked open the latch to the gate of the restricted section — it was a laugh, the same metal mechanism to keep in dogs or goats — she felt that feeling returning again. Parvati looked over her shoulder at Shamir. “Are you allowed in here?”

Shamir stared at her, daggers in her eyes, daggers in her belt. It was not like Parvati didn’t want her to come in. She looked past Shamir, leaned around the archer’s shoulder to see — whoever was watching. Shamir followed her gaze across the aisle and where the chandelier flickered down the stairs. 

Parvati ushered the archer in. “Let’s be quick.”

She slipped the documents into their place as Shamir asked, “What was that?” 

The professor sighed. “Don’t you get the feeling…like we’re being watched here?”

Shamir gave a one-sided smile. “Of course we’re being watched. The librarian, Tomás.”

Parvati shook her head. “I highly doubt what I’m feeling is just a librarian.” It took a moment for her to realize that Shamir was laughing at her. She only saw it from shoulders silently shaking. “What?”

Shamir said, “Do you feel things often?”

Parvati rolled her eyes. “Ha, ha.” She led the archer back out.

The archer followed with a triumphant smirk. “Actually, I came to tell you something,” said Shamir. “We’re taking the kids out to training tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“We take them out on weekends, and every month, one weeklong mission, deployed to any one of the three nations.”

“So, tomorrow, where are they going?”

“Remire.”

“Oh. Where is that?”

“It’s in the territory of Arundel. In Adrestia.”

“Lucky them. It will be warmer than here. What will they be doing?”

When Shamir told her, Parvati felt her stomach squirm again. She said, “Dispatching bandits? But…aren’t they kids?”

Shamir cocked her head. 

Parvati said, “I mean, you just started training them last Friday.”

“The Blue Lions did extra training sessions on both Saturday and Sunday. At this point, they have caught up sufficiently. We can’t give them regular attention, so we’re blocking their training up into chunks, given any opportunity.”

Parvati opened her mouth to argue, then remembered: Shamir and Catherine were doing a favor to her. “Yeah… You would know whatever is best.” She sighed.

Shamir blinked and said, “Parvati.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t get attached to these children.”

A cold spire of sadness curled through her heart as Parvati heard these words.“That’s…probably for the best, isn’t it?” she chuckled mirthlessly. “Even so…please take care of them. I know I just met them…but I’m not ready to lose them yet.”

“That I will do.” Shamir crossed her arms. “But you know they came to train for war, don’t you?”

“And where do they train for peace?” asked the professor with a smile sardonic.

Shamir went silent.

“You know, I couldn’t help but notice — as the Blue Lions Premier, I looked at the Prince’s curriculum. It is… horrific. The Art of the Sword. Spear Proficiency. Battle Tactics,. The History of War. And then, maths, chemistry, Ancient Technology, biophysiology… Not one minute spent on diplomacy. None spent on cultural awareness. On understanding each other. If something goes wrong, who teaches them how to make amends? After all, the wars best won,” said Parvati, “are the ones that never happen.”

Shamir shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Seteth about that one. It’s above my pay grade.”

“You’re right,” said Parvati with a bemused smile. “I should definitely run to the Principal and tell him his curriculum is sorely lacking.”

But Shamir was not laughing.

Parvati cleared her throat, feeling awkward. “Sorry,” she said. She tucked a stray hair.

Shamir shook her head. “You’re not wrong,” she said.

Parvati blinked.

The archer pushed the book she was holding into Parvati’s hands. “Read this. Then decide if you want to talk to him.”

Parvati looked down. When Words Won’t Reach. She thought, What a mournful title. And then she started. It was by Seteth. She looked up. “I thought he wrote children’s stories.” 

But Shamir was already gone. Parvati filled with a sense of foolishness, talking to naught but thin air. Then it came back — that sense of being watched again, that urgency, so she hurried down to circulation. She checked the book out, wondering what Shamir thought she would find in these pages that could possibly change her mind.

Chapter 24: The Eisner Fiasco

Chapter Text

“You called for us?” Manuela asked. Parvati and Hanneman followed the songstress into the Audience Chamber the next morning. 

Rhea and Seteth were in the front as usual, along with two people, a bulwark of a man and a slender young woman.

“We did,” said Seteth. “We have a new addition to the Officer’s Academy.”

The woman looked over her shoulder at the professors approaching. Parvati realized she was just a girl. She looked as young as Dimitri.

Another student? thought Parvati. Luckily they were only three weeks into coursework. It would not be too difficult bringing a student up to speed now. 

Parvati inspected the girl more closely. When Parvati had first seen the girl, her brain was convinced she had four arms. Now she could reassess. The girl had, without passing her arms through the sleeves of her black overcoat, somehow secured the overcoat to just her shoulders, so the overcoat wilted over her back and dangled the empty sleeves freely down her sides like two extra arms. She had a blue-sheathed dagger at her hip, intricate netting down her legs, and a greave — one singular greave — to protect her left knee. Parvati wondered what happened to the other one.  

“Please, introduce yourselves,” said the Archbishop. “We have found a new professor.”

New professor! thought Parvati, sizing the man up. Maybe he can be the Blue Lions combat instructor! 

He had a scar on his face and hard-set eyes. His blonde hair, slightly spiked at the top and buzzed down both sides, descended into a braid that disappeared behind a wide black-and-white shield. The orange tunic he wore was fur-lined and sported some white trim and design.

Manuela turned to him as well. “So, you must be the new professor. My, how stern and handsome you are!” 

Parvati exchanged a mortified glance with Hanneman. What was Manuela doing? What if this girl was his wife? The nobles and the religious married women off young around these parts, so who knew?

“Er, no,” the man chuckled uneasily. “I’m not the one you’re looking for.” He turned to the girl and leaned in to whisper something into her ear. The girl looked up at Lady Rhea. 

Manuela said, “Oh. It’s you then? So young…”

“Competence and age are not necessarily correlated, as you well know,” said Hanneman. He introduced himself as a Crest scholar and professor.

Manuela introduced herself next. “I’m Manuela. I’m a professor, a physician, a songstress, and available. It’s nice to meet you.”

Parvati winced. At Lady Rhea’s other side, Seteth bowed his head and pinched his nose silently. 

“You’re a physician?” the man asked.

“I look too pretty for that line of work, do I?” said Manuela. “But yes, when I’m not teaching, I can be found in the infirmary.”

Or in your office. Or in my office. Or in your room, Parvati thought, trying to reconcile this overly flirty Manuela with the one she’d so far known. 

“If you’re ever lonely,” said Manuela, “please do come and pay me a visit. I would love to — ”

“Spare our colleague the needless chatter, Manuela,” Hanneman interrupted. “Parvati hasn’t introduced herself yet.”

Well, now that she was put on the spot… “Parvati Sinha, an Ancient Technologist,” Parvati bowed. “I have been invited to teach the students math and technology, and somehow wound up head of the Blue Lions house. What’s your name? And what will you be teaching?”

“This is Byleth Eisner,” Seteth responded. “The students’ training exercise yesterday turned into a run-in with bandits. Luckily, she and her father Jeralt — ” — the man next to Byleth nodded — “ —  were there to take command and repel them from Remire.”

Parvati’s mouth dropped. “Yesterday’s what? Are the students all safe? Where are the Knights? Are they okay?”

“They are all right,” Lady Rhea assured. “We heard of your valiant efforts from Alois,” she was saying to Byleth. “As your father must have told you, we would like you to teach one of the three houses of the Officer’s Academy. You have already met them, I believe?”

Byleth glanced at her father, and nodded.

Lady Rhea nodded, then delineated the three houses and the house leaders. “You are to pick one of these houses. You shall lead one. Which would you choose?”

Parvati exchanged glances with the other two. Lead one of them? But they already had Premiers! Shouldn’t she just be assigned…?

“L-Lady Rhea,” Seteth interrupted. 

“Black Eagles,” said Byleth. 

Manuela looked at Lady Rhea. 

“Black Eagles it is,” said Lady Rhea.

“But I am teaching the Black Eagles,” said Manuela. “I don’t need help.”

“I do!” Parvati jumped in, trying to salvage the situation. “The Blue Lions is missing a combat instructor. It would be perfect, if you’d reconsider!” 

“Then maybe — ” Professor Byleth started, but Lady Rhea put a hand up instead. There was instant silence.

And in that silence, Lady Rhea gave Parvati the kind of expression one might give centipede found on one’s dinner plate.

Parvati’s insides went cold.

Lady Rhea turned back to Byleth and smiled. “You will have your heart’s desire,” she said. “The Black Eagles, it is, Professor Byleth.”

Behind Lady Rhea, even Seteth’s face looked pained from the decision. This was the moment in which Parvati realized she must not to contend with Lady Rhea. In this room, her will was absolute. 

It would cost lives before Parvati learned to remember it, however.


After what he would later dub the Eisner Fiasco, Seteth pulled Rhea into the shared office connected to the Audience Chamber. He closed the door behind them, and reinforced the Nabatean runes used to keep the room sound-locked. Though they could hear sounds from outside, the words shared between them would not go elsewhere. 

“What is happening, Rhea? Have you no intention of changing your mind?” Seteth asked her. “Appointing a stranger — a child no less! — as a professor at our esteemed academy is — ”

“I have made my decision, Seteth,” she said to him warmly. “I know worrying comes naturally to you, but there is truly no need. That ‘stranger’ is Jeralt’s flesh and blood, after all.”

Seteth frowned. “I can’t say that’s all too comforting. How trustworthy is this Jeralt character? Is he not the man who went missing after the great fire 21 years ago?” He hesitated, then said, “I would remind you that Flayn is now here with us as well. I beg of you…please consider whether this is an unnecessary risk.”

“Seteth. They have my trust. Let that be enough for you as well. More importantly, I am increasingly concerned about a matter regarding our suspicious individual.”

Seteth folded his arms. “I have a close eye on our suspicious individual. Let it worry you not.”

“How close are we to dispelling her?”

Seteth tried to keep his expression sharp. He had not informed her how close he had been to losing Parvati three weeks ago. He supplied her with other intel. “Though Parvati has sent word to restart the process of shipping the Ancient Technology, we have yet to receive the remaining Agarthan technology from Enbarr Imperial University. They may have signed the one year contract, but they are dragging their heels. As we discussed, we cannot dispose of Parvati until everything her parents found is collected. It will now take longer than several months.”

“That is too long,” said Rhea crossly. “With the number of times she spoke out of turn just this morning… I will not suffer her longer, Seteth.”

Seteth frowned. 

“What about the Rite of Rebirth?” Rhea suggested. “It will no doubt put the students at ease. They will be startled when it happens. The festival will serve a good distraction.”

“Perhaps,” said Seteth. “Unfortunately, it is not E.I. that troubles me. Rhea, please understand: this situation has developed a new layer of intricacy. Parvati is now King’s Champion. Were something to happen…Duscur will call it foul play, Faerghus will assert it a fine occurrence, and Adrestia, most certainly, will call for an investigation. It will be an incident at the international level.” 

Rhea said nothing. She merely tilted her head as she considered this. 

“Remember, Rhea: alongside discontent from the Prince himself, alongside arousing questions from Parvati’s Adrestian Commander partner…we are currently hosting a von Vestra. Hubert is the second son of the leader of the Adrestian Intelligence Agency itself. We do not want this to become a challenge to prove his merit, for as Parvati develops a relationship with his liege, the future Empress, Lady Edelgard would no doubt command him to — ”

“That’s enough, Seteth.” To his surprise, Rhea was shaking her head. “You’ve lost yourself in the trees.” 

Seteth blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

What he was seeing in Rhea was almost nostalgic. He was reminded of why he, and so many others, had set their blades forth in favor for the great warrior Seiros over a thousand years ago. Here she was, Seiros again; no matter the challenge, altogether unfazed. Oh how he, his first wife, and the Nabateans had clung to this: Rhea’s fearlessness, so complete as to affect an incapability of it.  

Rhea was smiling at him. “Step back and see the forest, my old friend. What does it matter who her allies might be…if, when we remove her, we ensure they agree?”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“She has already trespassed, dear Seteth. Three weeks ago, during class, wasn’t it? When she spoke of heart transplants.” 

Seteth realized what she meant: Parvati had made a major transgression. Against the Seirosi faith. In front of all of the students. It started dawning upon him, what Rhea meant to say. He watched her clasp her hands over the Crest of Seiros carved into the back of the chair in front of his desk.

“All we have to do,” said Rhea, “is keep track of it. Of all her transgressions. And ensure the whole world knows of them as well. Something…that should not be hard to do when she teaches Ancient Technology here.”

Seteth creased his brow. Ancient Technology was rife with transgressions. “So that is why,” he said. He realized: the very class was a trap. 

Rhea smiled. “And now you see it.”

Seteth put a hand on his chin. “I admit, five years ago…I could not fathom why you proposed making her a professor at OA here…to teach this, of all things.” 

Rhea nodded. “Let the children indulge, for a moment, in the forbidden.” Her faced turned hard. “Then we teach them what it means to stray.”

“Ah,” he said. “So we’ll remove her in public?” He put a hand on his chin. “That is…much more pleasant! Then we can imprison her, not have her killed. Nothing has to be a secret. There needs be no cover up. And the world will acknowledge why we removed her. Not even the Prince, the one monarch beholden to the Faith, will defend her. He cannot.” 

“Imprisoned… Imprisoned is not what I…” Rhea grew quiet, studied him. 

“What was that?” asked Seteth. she had been too quiet for him to hear what she said.

There was something in Rhea’s eyes he was not used to seeing. The moment passed and she nodded. “It is time. The world needs to be reminded again: of technology’s temptations, of its dangers. Seteth, we have gathered the most influential of this generation here. Make sure the lesson a good one. Please ensure they all understand…that there is no room for argument. There never will be.”

Seteth nodded.

“I put my faith in you for you have never failed me, Seteth. Do not fail me in this.”

Seteth frowned as she departed. Now why did she say that? 


“I don’t understand,” Manuela said to them. “What just…happened?”

Parvati and Hanneman sat in armchairs across from her. They were back in Hanneman’s office. 

Back at the Audience Chamber, Manuela gave Byleth instructions after Seteth had requested Lady Rhea to speak privately in his office. “I’m sure Lady Rhea will have more information for you tomorrow.” Manuela said, “Good luck. You’ll need it.”  

With that, she dismissed the newcomer out of the other professors’ good graces.

It wasn’t long before they then filed into Hanneman’s office, stopping at Parvati’s along the way to pick up the bottle she had taken from him.

“To the top, Hanneman,” said Manuela, as Hanneman poured her the drink.

“This is the strangest year I have ever seen,” said Hanneman. “One professor disappears, another gets promoted to a role she didn’t want, and then another comes out of nowhere. Do either of you know anything about her?”

“I heard of her from Edelgard,” said Manuela. “They call her the Ashen Demon. Her father is Jeralt Eisner. He used to be the Commander of the Knights of Seiros, twenty years ago.”

“Ashen Demon? That doesn’t sound very nice,” said Parvati, accepting a cup with a shrug. She indicated an inch and a half to Hanneman, and he poured her a drink to that height. “She didn’t look particularly scary, though. She could have been nice.”

“Yes, well, she wasn’t,” Manuela said.

“Don’t blame Byleth,” Parvati said. “I almost had her convinced. Lady Rhea was the one who didn’t let her speak. The poor girl, honestly, she doesn’t look like she knows what she’s doing.”

“How old do you two think she is?” asked Hanneman.

“Rude of you to ask,” said Manuela, “but she looked like the kids’ age.”

“I wouldn’t put her older than Prince Dimitri,” Parvati agreed.

“Look, I don’t care how old she is,” said Manuela, “but does she put me out of a job?”

“What? Manuela, nonsense!” insisted Hanneman. “The Officer’s Academy barely has enough professors. I keep telling Seteth we need more instructors.”

“Considering what a prestigious place this is, there’s surely no lack of applications,” said Parvati. “You must have been chosen out of literally hundreds of applicants. There’s no way they would remove you, Manuela. You were chosen for this job.”

Manuela made a noise, considering, then she huffed and shook her head and downed the drink, the entire cup at once. 

Uh oh, said Parvati, snagging the bottle before Manuela could reach for it to refill her drink. 

Manuela glared at her. “Parvati.”

Parvati hesitated. “All right, one more,” she said. “But that’s final. This one is potent. I’ve seen it.” She filled Manuela’s cup with one more drink, then said, “Should we be talking about Byleth like this behind her back? She wasn’t responsible for this.”

“And we know who was,” Hanneman said before Manuela could cut in. “Lady Rhea…” He frowned and shook his head.

“What was — that look she gave me?” Parvati asked them. “Did you see it?”

Hanneman nodded. “I certainly did. I’ve never seen that before, I’ll be honest, Parvati…” He drank in silence for a bit, then said, “I don’t understand… It sounded like the most appropriate distribution of resources.”  

“And Seteth let it happen,” Manuela said.

“No, he did not,” Hanneman said. “You saw him try to intervene.”

Manuela tsked. “Some good his intervention did. That man had no control.”

Parvati stayed silent. They all looked to the door when they heard a knock.

“Coming!” Hanneman responded, getting out of his chair with a groan. 

It was Seteth. 

Parvati and Manuela exchanged glances. 

“Hanneman, I’d like to talk,” said Seteth. Then he saw the others over Hanneman’s shoulder. “Ah…”

Hanneman stepped aside to let Seteth in. Seteth stood in the hall, considering. Then he stepped inside. “Maybe it is good that you are all here.”

“Would you like a drink, Seteth?” Hanneman said, closing the door. “I don’t have anymore cups, I think.”

“You can have mine,” Parvati said, holding hers up. “I haven’t had any of it.”

“Now this I won’t decline,” said Seteth. He took the cup she offered, and downed it like a shot like Manuela just did. He hummed and closed his eyes, awaiting its effect.

“Want to sit?” Parvati said, rising.

“No no no,” said Seteth. “I think best when I stand.” He handed the cup back to her, which she put back on the table, and started pacing. “What do you know of Jeralt and Byleth Eisner?”

Manuela repeated what they had just said. “Is there more to it?” Manuela asked. 

They watched Seteth roam from where Parvati was sitting to where Hanneman was sitting again. Then he said, “No.” He shook his head. “I’m going to need another drink.”

Hanneman refilled it and handed it back to him. “It looks like we’re coming to the end,” he said, shaking and listening to the light slosh in his bottle. “This was a bottle well spent.”

They watched Seteth being quiet again, drinking and pacing. He said under his breath, “It makes no sense.”

You’re thinking this too?” Manuela pounced. “How did she get this post? What are her qualifications?”

“It’s not just this post,” Seteth said. “Jeralt is Knight Commander too.”

The three professors looked at each other, stunned. 

“Jeralt is Knight Commander?” Hanneman said. “You were training Alois for that post!”

Alois? thought Parvati. She had no idea he was that important. She hadn’t been treating him with the respect he was accorded! She had just…been so friendly with him, since he was so friendly…

“So I’m being replaced by Byleth, and you got replaced as the Knight Commander?” Manuela said. 

“You’re not being replaced,” Seteth said, irritated. “And Alois himself requested Jeralt to take that role.” He shook his head. “I had been looking for a suitable candidate for that post for over a year now. This isn’t the way I envisioned it.”

Seteth heaved a great sigh, now leaning back against Hanneman’s desk. “Parvati came here on eight recommendations. Manuela we chose from over two hundred contestants. I had done extensive background checks on each of you, and of course, Hanneman before you. How can these two be inducted into the Officer’s Academy without the most basic screening?”

Parvati had to crane her neck to see his face over the Crest Analyzer’s projection. She pressed the button to turn it off. 

“No, don’t turn it off!” Hanneman squealed.

The projector flickered, sparked, then whirred out of life. The office was suddenly quiet enough to hear Hanneman burp.

“Parvati!” he wailed and leaped to his feet.

“What?” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s so finicky whenever I have to turn it back on!”

Parvati rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Look, don’t have a heart attack. I’ll have it running by tomorrow morning.”

“No, you won’t! Last time you ‘fixed’ it, you broke it!”

“Fix it?” said Manuela. “You know how to do that?”

“Of course I do,” Parvati said. “Who do you think made it for him?”

Seteth’s eyes widened as well. “You made this instrument?”

“I did and I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “He keeps subjecting people to this abomination. I told him I could upgrade it already, but he refuses to budge. It’s embarrassing!”

The Crest scholar harrumphed and took off his overcoat. He clambered underneath the table of the Analyzer.

Seteth watched Hanneman inspecting something. “Hmm. I thought your recommendations were exaggerative,” said Seteth, “but it seems that’s not the case.” 

Parvati blinked. Was that a compliment? She wasn’t expecting a compliment. Not from Seteth. It flooded her with mass relief. So then, maybe she could ask… “Why can’t the Blue Lions have Byleth?” She told Seteth about her troubles acquiring combat instructors. “I’ve got Shamir and Catherine for this month. And I’ve asked Randolph, if the OA would accept him. He said he could be available for a weekend seminar in two months. Or maybe three. But I don’t know yet who’ll be teaching them next month.”

“You got both Catherine and Shamir?” asked Seteth. 

“That’s what the students said,” said Parvati. “Is it such a big deal?”

“Actually, Shamir is a surprise.” Seteth blinked. “As for Randolph, I will look into him. It has been a while since we’ve had visiting instructors.”

“You really should stop crawling around on the ground with a woman sitting nearby, Hanneman,” Manuela said. “People will think you’re trying to look up her legs.”

Hanneman froze in place for a moment. “Then go STAND behind your CHAIR!” he exploded.

Parvati put her face in her hands. “Seteth, I really don’t envy you. You’ve got some interesting characters upon your hands.”

Seteth nodded. “Yes. This role never is boring.” He put his empty cup down and went to the doorway. “I’ll be taking my leave.”

“Wait — Seteth,” said Parvati. 

He turned. 

She said, “Thanks.”

He considered her. Then his eyes landed on Manuela. “Today’s events must have caused you undue distress. Manuela, I am so sorry. Your place is secure in the Academy. You have nothing to fear.” 

Manuela nodded, slowly. The scotch was definitely in her. She said, “Well, that’s good to hear.” She closed her eyes, falling asleep.

“Wait! No, don’t fall asleep here!” said Hanneman, as Seteth closed the door behind him. 


Jeralt called Parvati into his office. Parvati was surprised. She had never been to the Knight Commander’s office before, even though it was right next to hers. She could see, however, some of Alois’s paraphernalia had been taken down, and replaced with…nothing. She looked at Jeralt. The walls were bare. They said nothing about him. Or perhaps, everything. Or, perhaps as a mercenary, he had nothing on hand to put up for show at this time. Mercs lived lean, she imagined. 

Parvati looked around. No Byleth here. No anyone else, even. 

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “I’ve already talked to the other two, Hanneman and Manuela. I called you here so I can get a better sense of what’s changed.”

Parvati cocked her head. “What’s changed?”

He nodded. He explained to her that he was Knight Commander twenty years ago.

Parvati’s brows jumped up. “Twenty years ago?” she asked. “You don’t look that old.”Then she flushed. “Sorry. Inappropriate.”

Jeralt shook his head. “No offense taken. I know I look young. As for you…you are Garreg Mach’s youngest professor in history, are you not?”

“I was,” Parvati chuckled, “for three weeks. Now your daughter is.”

He nodded, frowning. “Yes. She is. Somehow.” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “I don’t understand what Rhea is thinking.”

Parvati’s brows jumped up to the sky again. “You don’t know either?” 

He glanced her way and she could feel her pulse climbing. What an intimidating fellow. She then added in a whisper, “Are you allowed to talk about the Archbishop that way?”

It was Jeralt’s turn to smirk. “Yes. I am.” 

“But you were her Knight Commander. Don’t you like her?”

Jeralt’s face took on a flat expression. “We parted under…unfortunate circumstances… So no. I don’t bear her any love. But it looks like this is my job now, so I will do it well. You have no need to worry about my personal situation. It won’t affect this.”

Parvati scratched her elbow as she said, “Well, that’s good…” 

And the room descended into awkwardness. 

“So uh…was there something you wanted to ask?” Parvati asked. 

“Yes. A favor, actually,” he said. He put his hand on his chin as he requested, “My daughter has no idea what she’s doing here. She has never taught anything before. And, I have spoken with the other professors here. I think you know who I mean when I say one is outright hostile. So…I would like to ask if you could be a friend to my daughter. Show Byleth the ropes. What does it mean to be a professor here? It’s not something I have had to do myself, so I’d be looking to you to provide that guidance.”

Parvati hesitated. She thought things were complicated before, with just her personal dealings with the Prince. Now, her workplace had become a strange battle of politics. 

Huh, she thought. Office politics. She wasn’t opposed to it, because she was generally good at it. There was a reason why, at Enbarr Imperial, she came out on top. 

But this, this place was different. Somehow, everything was incredibly personal. She wasn’t competing with coworkers for research funding. Back at E.I., if one department won, that was okay. The other departments had their chances in the years that followed. But here — she didn’t even think she was in competition. Her aims coming in were so entirely different. She was looking for sponsors. She wasn’t vying to make a name demonstrating battle prowess to anybody. When she came, she thought she wasn’t even playing the game. As a simple math and Ancient Technology professor, she had felt secure in having opted “out” of the competition.

But now… She remembered the look on Lady Rhea’s face when she offered Byleth the Blue Lions. That face, such sheer hostility. What did Parvati even do to this woman? She was still constantly surprised to think the Archbishop even knew her name! 

And then she remembered the look that replaced it when Lady Rhea regarded Byleth. 

Huh, thought Parvati. Lines were being drawn between Lady Rhea and Seteth, whether anyone admitted it or not. It was obvious where Parvati stood: solidly alongside Manuela, solidly behind Seteth. There was potential for Hanneman to have been the most neutral of all of them, were it not for the look the Archbishop had given Parvati.

Nope. That was done.  

Meanwhile, Byleth, inexplicably, had Lady Rhea’s support, and clearly, given what happened just two hours ago, not even Seteth, the official head of the Officer’s Academy, could do anything against her.

Byleth would be fine.

Parvati turned back to Commander Jeralt. “Commander, I would love to help your daughter. Unfortunately, I am, of all the professors, the least qualified to be of aid. I am no combat instructor, and on top of this being my first year — ”

“Your first year?” Jeralt blinked.

Parvati nodded. “On top of that, I have recently been named the Blue Lions Premier. I didn’t come here to be a Premier, so I am learning a new role myself. But Professor Hanneman is senior, here. He would be the best, I’d suggest.” And she thought to herself, Sorry, Hanneman! 

But for some reason, Jeralt furrowed his brow. “That Crest scholar?” He gave a noncommittal groan.“I chose you because you are closest to Byleth in age. I thought you might understand each other. And, of course, I saw how you proffered the Blue Lions. You have an honest face, and seemed most sympathetic. I would like to ask again. Please. In this place, more than ever, my daughter needs a friend.”

Well, she could be asking herself, thought Parvati. She was quiet for a moment, then placed a hand on her hip. Time to switch strategies. “You saw the way Lady Rhea looked at me. Are you sure you want me to be Byleth’s friend?”

And there it was: she pinned him. Now, for Commander Jeralt to say no was an insult. But, for him not to say no — it was clear on his face.

Professor Parvati bowed to him. “I commend what you are doing, Commander. You are looking out for your daughter. It gladdens my heart to see. To be frank, I’m quite bewildered as to what I have done to displease the Archbishop. I’ve hardly seen her in the last few weeks, but…” She clasped her hands behind her. “Let’s make sure Professor Byleth doesn’t fall from her favor.”

Little did they know, of course, that Byleth most certainly would. Within the year.

“However,” intoned Parvati. No need to burn bridges, yet. Not when she could see that a perfectly valid bridge was forming. She said, “If there is anything I do wish to relay, how about I just tell you? Or, I’ll relay it to you or Byleth, through one of the students. Will that work? I’ll keep an eye out for her…indirectly.”

Commander Jeralt nodded. “That..is good to hear. And I’m happy to take any help, whatever it may be.”

Parvati nodded. 

“One more thing,” said the Commander, just as Parvati turned and dismissed herself.

“What is it?”

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Byleth.”

Parvati frowned. “And that is?”

“Watch out for the Archbishop. You never know…what she is thinking.”

Parvati’s eyes widened as she regarded Commander Jeralt. What an ominous warning…from a man meant to protect the Archbishop herself. If he didn’t approve of her, why was he here? What was happening? And, did he know something Parvati needed to know? 

So don’t burn this bridge, thought Parvati, grateful she hadn’t outright rejected him. She thanked him and headed back out into the faculty hallway. This particular hallway extended directly out of the Audience Chamber, where Lady Rhea spent almost all of her time, daily. This meant she could watch whoever came in, whoever came out, which faculty, which students, which parishioners. And even now, Parvati could feel her eyes land on her, following, as Parvati retreated back to her office. 

Watching, always watching. Rhea was always watching. 

Chapter 25: Worrying

Chapter Text

 

Dedue was surprised to find Professor Parvati accost them in the courtyard that afternoon. From the way she was looking at the them, she had clearly been worried. 

“Hey. Are you okay?” 

“Professor! Oh, me? Yes, I’m fine,” said the Prince.

Dedue watched the professor place a hand over her heart, as if to try to slow it.

The Prince looked curious. “Hmm? What is it, Professor?”

“I just…I just had to see your face. Make sure you were okay.”

“I…” Dimitri blushed, and looked pleased. “Yes, I am fine, Professor.”

“And you?” asked Parvati. She placed a hand on Dedue’s arm as she visually searched him.

“I am fine as well,” he said with a bow and a smile, overcome by a sudden sense of warmth.

She took her hand back as said, “Okay…” 

It made him surprisingly sad. It was a comforting touch, even if for a moment. 

She still frowned, however. “What of the others?”

The Prince reported, “The Blue Lions fared quite well in the exercise. But not all of the Golden Deer…” His Highness caught himself as he saw her eyes grow back into saucers. “You need not fear, Professor. Professor Manuela has already attended to them.”

She hummed, pulling the rings off of the fingers from one hand and inserting them onto the other in her restlessness. It was clear she needed more convincing. They watched her survey other kids down the courtyard as she muttered to herself, “Dammit… I told myself I wouldn’t do this.” 

“Do what, Professor?” asked the Prince.

She sighed. “I told myself…I’m not going to be the one sitting at home, waiting for him to come back.” She looked miserable. “Feeling helpless, and simply passing the time, frantically. Going out of my mind with worry, until he can return. Whoever the him is. Not me, I said. Never I. But now…” She glanced from one to the other. “Here I am, with you two. No, eight kids. No. Twenty-four.” Then she was struck by something, and put a hand over her chest, hyperventilating. “And Manuela. And Hanneman. And Shamir and Catherine. And — ”

Dedue put a hand on her shoulder. “Professor.”

“I feel it setting in. A permanent panic. Just thinking about wherever you’ll go next month.”

“Next month?” said Prince Dimitri, incredulous. “Professor, we are hardly returned!”

Dedue shook his head. “Leave worrying about next month for next month.” 

“Is this what it’s like being a mother? I hate it.”

Ah, thought Dedue. He exchanged a worried glance with the Prince.

She made some more dissatisfied noises, then stopped. Took a deep breath. And let go of it. Now that she had collected herself, she said, “I’m sorry. It is just…so real all of a sudden. I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to be adding to your worries. I’m supposed to be shielding you from them.”

“Yes, Professor, please do.” The Prince frowned. “I can hardly handle one Dedue, much less two of them!”

If Prince Dimitri hadn’t been the Prince of Faerghus, Dedue would have cuffed him. Instead, he said, “We will be all right, Professor. We can defend ourselves. As warriors, we are some of the finest.”

“In fact,” Prince Dimitri grew excited, “why don’t you come see? We spar every day on the Training Grounds. I would love for you to come and witness.”

Dedue nodded. “It is a fine idea. You might feel more at ease, to find us so capable.”

A shadow passed over the professor’s face. It seemed like everything stopped within her. Her eyes went from Dedue to the Prince, then back again. “No. No no no… No, I don’t think I will.” She shook her head and stepped backwards. “Apologies. I take my leave.”

Prince Dimitri frowned. “What was that?” he asked. She had fully blown the wind completely out of his sails. 

Dedue had a guess, but he kept it to himself as he watched the professor depart. Were Faerghus ever to war against Adrestia, her lover Commander Randolph would be in the Adrestian war front. And having been made Blue Lions Premier, having just acquired Shamir and Catherine to train them… He had seen it in Professor Parvati’s eyes, that recognition. That she was training the enemy. That she was aiding the people who had — 

“Too bad,” said Prince Dimitri sadly. “I would have liked to worry her a little more.” 

“That she will, undoubtedly,” Dedue consoled. “She is much too easily given to love, Your Highness.”

These words returned to the Prince’s eyes a distinct vitality. His voice was soft as he said it. “Then I am glad.”  


“Byleth!” said Parvati, accosting her. “I just… I wanted to thank you.” 

Parvati had just finished her rounds. She had visited almost all of the children, had visited Leonie and Raphael in the infirmary, then found Byleth at the fishing pond right outside of it. It wasn’t the plan to talk to Byleth directly, but given how she’d saved the students, Parvati thought this could be an exception. She shuffled out onto the wooden pier to take a place beside the mysterious mercenary and said, “The kids have told me all you have done for them.”

Byleth — Professor Byleth — nodded and, after waiting to see if Parvati was going to say anything else, returned to monitoring the line for fish.

“Um,” said Parvati, unsure what to say next. “They really talked you up a bit. I know it sets me at ease, to know you will be going out with them. I mean, to more upcoming battles. With you and Manuela, I won’t have to worry about the Black Eagles.”

Byleth shrugged. That was it. She didn’t say anything. Parvati followed her gaze. She was watching the fish glimmering below the surface. 

Ooookay, thought Parvati. Quite the talker here. She then said, “Are…you fitting in well? Though. I guess this is your first day. Kind of a dumb question, right? Right. Yes.” Feeling foolish, Parvati pointed over her shoulder, back to the Monastery. “I’m gonna. Go over there. And. Let you get back to…this.” She waved her hand in the pond’s general direction, then high-tailed it back off the pier, her boots clopping on the wood. She did not know how to carry a conversation with Byleth. 

And in less than two hours since he last saw her, Commander Jeralt found Parvati in his office again. “Ah. Professor. Can I help you?”

Parvati pointed at the door and said, “Can I?” He gave the go ahead and she closed the door. “Is there something wrong with Byleth? I mean. Please don’t take it the wrong way.”

Jeralt raised his brows. “Oh. You tried talking to her, didn’t you?”

Parvati nodded. 

The Commander sighed. “She has been…always like this. Not one to talk, though she might be more open, when she’s with me. Now, on the battlefield…” The Commander was seeing it in the eye of his mind as he said, “There, you will find her a different entity. She takes command. And you will definitely hear her. A strong voice. …But no, outside of that for the most part, I don’t imagine her talking.”

Well, you could have told me that before, thought Parvati. But what would have been the point anyway? “Well, I hope we can make her comfortable here,” she said instead.

The Commander nodded. “Thank you for trying.”


“Oh boy,” said Catherine at dinner. “Here comes Byleth.” She eyed the professor somewhere over Parvati’s shoulder. It made Parvati self-conscious, like Catherine was glaring at her. “Better keep things family friendly,” Catherine added. She gave the other ladies at the table a meaningful glance.

Manuela and Shamir carried on eating. Parvati ignored Catherine and tucked into her chicken pot pie, enjoying the way the pie crust was crumbling as she anticipated Byleth to join them. “Now this is what I am going to miss about Garreg Mach,” said Parvati. “The food.”

“Wait, where is she going?” said Catherine, not listening. 

Parvati glanced over her shoulder. Byleth had passed their table — not that she had much in the way of friends at the faculty table, if she even recognized anyone — and went promptly to the Black Eagles table. 

“Well, good for her,” said Catherine sarcastically. Manuela audibly sighed in relief. 

“She’ll be more comfortable with them anyway,” said Parvati. 

“I’m more comfortable away from her,” Manuela grumbled.

Parvati frowned. This was just so different from the normally assertive diva. “Come on, Manuela, it’s not her fault. No need to punish her.”

Catherine grunted. “Oh yeah? Well, what’s the big deal? What does Byleth have that we don’t have anyway? Why has she attracted the eye of Rhea?”

Oh my gods, thought Parvati. Is this where this was going?

Shamir rolled her eyes. “You’re the Lady Rhea expert around here. What do you think?”

Catherine wasn’t listening to her either. The knight’s fork hit the plate three times in search of her potatoes as she continued watching on Byleth. “OK, that settles it. I'm going to watch from afar, figure out what Lady Rhea could possibly see in her. Whatever it is, maybe I can copy it, so that she'll take a shine to me as well.” 

“I have a headache,” said Manuela. “Can we stop talking about Lady Rhea, please?”

“Catherine. You’re going to scare the professors away,” Shamir warned.

“Hmph. Whatever.” Catherine stabbed the roasted potatoes on her plate like a little kid. Then she declared, “Parvati!”

What?

“You’re coming with me. We’re gonna tail her.”

“What? Why do I have to?”

“Because then we can pretend to have conversations. While we are following. Like a sneak.” 

Yeah but, why did you pick me? was what Parvati meant. She had things to do with this evening. Like grade things. And prepare homework assignments. She didn’t have time to tail the new professor. Then she said, “Wait a minute, isn’t she your new boss’s daughter? Don’t you think he’ll be a titch displeased?”

For once, Catherine’s cutlery stopped moving. Parvati could literally see the thoughts slowly turning in her head. Gods, just kill me now, thought Parvati, waiting to see if she’d had the right effect. It was becoming clear to her: Catherine was not the sharpest tool in the shed. 

“Look, I’m busy,” said Parvati. “I just got a letter from Randolph.”

This brightened Catherine. “Oh, that’s right! Your hotshot hasn’t come around for a while now, to give you some of his love.”

Parvati froze. “What — ”

“Oh, come on. We’re all grown ups here.” She leaned over the table. “So tell us. What is he like? In bed? Does he…satisfy?”

“Catherine, shut. Up!” whispered Parvati frantically. She could feel Manuela and Shamir eying her, each with their covert grins. 

“Have you been writing letters to him?” 

“I — uh — not quite yet — ”

“Telling him, just how cold and empty your bed is?”

“Catherine, shut up!” 

Catherine laughed, then gave an up-nod to someone behind Parvati. She said, “Hey.”

Oh no, thought Parvati. She turned. 

It was Dedue. 

“Oh my gods.” Parvati’s voice fluctuated. “Please tell me you didn’t hear anything.”

Dedue looked her dead in the eye and said, “I didn’t hear anything.”

They proceeded to stare at each other intensely and came to an understanding. Parvati said, “Dedue. You are a good man. What do you need?”

He relayed that, inspired by the Black Eagles, the Blue Lions would like to invite their Premier to dine with them. 

“Yes!” said Parvati frantically. She didn’t even look at the Blue Lions table before already clambering out of her own. The women chuckled as Parvati made for an escape. “Oh, you’re a godsend, Dedue!” 


Two hours later, Parvati bathed and plopped onto her bed with Randolph’s letter.

My Beloved Parvati, 

Sorry I haven’t written in a week. We were immediately sent on assignment to handle business in Hrym. I saw the Duke of Aegir yesterday. He sends his regards.

Then came the three dashes Randolph would always use to end one writing session. Parvati smiled on, unfurling his letter.

— — —

I’m not very good at letter writing. I always get stuck trying to figure out what you want to hear. Sometimes I think of something to write while I’m riding. By the time I get to paper, it’s forgotten. I don’t know why that happens. 

— — —

I ate well. I have been sleeping well. It’s easy to sleep when traveling, so… Not as easy as when I sleep with you, of course. 

Parvati smiled, suddenly longing to be held again. His arms were always a comfort, and his warmth, and his smell. He didn’t always smell so good, but she liked to think that only she would know him this way. 

She turned on her bed and looked out into the pinking sky. It was a rare occasion for her to be in her room this early, with work keeping her in office deep into the night. She curled in the bed, the way it was when Randolph was last here with her.

— — —

Ladislava will allow me to come to Garreg Mach in two months. Perhaps we can spend that time together? Last we traveled, you were poring over that Crest professor’s books. I know you were preparing for the upcoming term. This time, we could spend a few hours, don’t you think? 

Parvati felt bad. He must have been bored. He must have felt…alone. Neglected. She read the line again. This time, we could spend a few hours, don’t you think? Was she making him feel neglected?

— — —

Of course, right after I ask for time alone, Flèche says she is coming. I want to tell her no, but she didn’t see you the last three times already. She won’t forgive me if I say no. 

Find a way to distract her. I can’t not be with you after waiting two whole months! 

— — —

Then, written in very big letters, he wrote: 

I can’t think of anything!

Parvati laughed. 

— — —

Flechè wants you to take her earring shopping. I asked her why, and she thinks I don’t know that she’s seeing some kid. She wears her hair in ribboned plaits now. Ribboned plaits. What do I do?

Anyways, this letter looks long enough. I haven’t received any of yours yet — they’re likely rerouted to the Varley address, since that’s where I’m stationed next. It’s frustrating not to know how your first week has been. What if there is a big stack of letters waiting? And I have been unable to say one thing? 

Parvati felt her stomach filling with dread. Big stack of letters? What did he think she was, a novelist? He’d better be happy with the lines she did write him. She harrumphed. He must have reached Varley already…

Then she saw the last lines he sent.

I know there are a lot of Faerghusi there. I know you are afraid. I pray nothing happened to materialize those fears.

“Uh oh,” she said, sitting up.

If I hear one thing about you being mistreated there, I will take you back to Enbarr. I promise.  

Your love,

Randolph von Bergliez

Parvati put down the letter. She better write to him quick.

Chapter 26: Letters to Randolph

Notes:

Thank you for all the Kudos, Comments and Bookmarks, KetchupLover851, KobsterHope07, SirSherlockDigitalPersona, DGRTDB  and Satelesque and guest commenter Michael!!! I think that’s the first guest comment in years! 

Chapter Text

The fact of the matter was, Parvati had written Randolph a letter: the day of her Ancient Technology class screw-up. That letter looked like this:

My Dear Beloved Randolph,

Hello. I am alive. I am doing okay. Actually, I was assigned the Blue Lions, but things will be okay. Also, I got a warning from my boss today. But things will be okay. Actually, I’ve never gotten a warning from my boss, so I’m kind of freaked out, okay? Also, I had heated exchanges with the Faerghusi prince. I’m not sure if that will be okay. And he has a Duscuri attendant, and that kid is not okay. Love, Parvati.

P.S. Not sure if I’m more scared of Kid Boss or Big Boss. Now I’m not sure if I’m okay. 

P.S.S. Are you okay? K love bye.   

There were obvious reasons why this letter was in the trash: just like Randolph, Parvati was not good at letters. Not to Randolph, at least. Until that day, she was paralyzed. What could she tell Randolph? About the Prince? Her new role as Premier of the Blue Lions? Of how it came to be? How could she possibly answer the dozens of questions it would no doubt bring forth?

But on that day, she broke, and this was all her addled brain could produce.

Now she sat down to try to write a letter, as she had already done four hundred times before, but just like before, something happened: the quill snapped in her hand, or she spilled ink over parchment, or everything was wrong and nothing was right and the letter she wrote was the stupidest usage of ink she had ever seen in her life. 

And then she would be angry. At herself. 

All right. Drink. Maybe that’ll make it better.

She got drinks with Manuela. She did not remember coming back. Somehow she was lying on her bed and there was a letter on the table. It was light out, a Saturday, so she took the letter out into the biting dawn and read it on the veranda. 

Her brows rose up. She had had a breakthrough. She flipped through pages. And her breakthrough? Don’t explain things. Just report them. Objectively. 

It read like a soldier’s report. It stated that she was selected Blue Lions Premier by Pact of Pan, that she had Catherine and Shamir teaching the Blue Lions, and that every Premier was required to meet their House's students one-on-one. She was to build personal connections with each of them, learn what their goals were, and advise them in achieving said goals. So Parvati had had to set aside research time to meet with the students. 

She’d learned about Ashe’s affinity to books and they’d whiled a sunset away talking about them. 

She’d baked treats with Annette and Mercedes. This was great, because it turned out to be mostly volunteering herself to be their taste tester. They were delightful to chat with. 

She hadn’t spent any further time with Dedue and Prince Dimitri yet because…she already knew them. Too well. And she knew what their goals were. She didn’t write anything about that here. 

Ingrid was easy to work with. She was very serious, very professional, and Parvati had written to Randolph that she was excited to introduce him to such a dedicated soldier. She wrote that she’d also heard Ingrid was the fastest rider and the fastest flyer amongst the whole campus, and would see Ingrid flying past the Great Bridge often. 

And then — “Oh no,” said Parvati, looking at what followed. 

What followed was a detailed account of Sylvain. She’d written a sentence on Ashe, three on Annette and Mercedes, barely a mention of Dedue and the Prince, and then a full four on Ingrid. And after that, last night’s drunk Parvati decided to write a full-on, in-depth scene about a moment with Sylvain. By this point, she had flounced more than one of his flirting attempts with poor random damsels, and this was one of them. 

He’d accosted Lady Edelgard in the courtyards so I slid into the conversation. Sylvain looked peeved the instant he saw me as I informed the princess she forgot to turn in her essay.

“I would never,” responded Lady Edelgard. 

Sylvain gave me a side-eye. “Yeah, Professor, you’ve got the wrong girl.”

So I looked at her hard and told her, “Are you implying I am lying, milady?”

And she finally caught on. She glanced at Sylvain and said, “Perhaps…I have forgotten.”  

“It’s in your room, surely,” I said. “We can go take a look right away?” 

I promptly escorted her off of the premises. 

Unfortunately, Hubert found us on the way. He declared, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you never have to do that again.”

Not quite a thank you, and I’m not sure what he meant, but I haven’t seen Sylvain talking to Lady Edelgard ever since. …What did Hubert do to him?

Too bad I didn’t get to see her room. 

After that, the letter went into detail about Dorothea’s frequent trips to Parvati’s and Manuela’s apartments, how Parvati was making fast friends with Flayn, and how she’d discovered that Ferdinand, the son of her sponsor she had crowned in her heart, was in actuality floundering at the Officer’s Academy. He insisted on being at odds with the Princess — the fault was of course all his own — and he was as displeased by Hubert’s rudeness as Hubert was of Ferdinand’s zeal. 

Parvati bit her lip. There was one student that had gone unmentioned in the letter. She scanned the letter again. That was right. One Blue Lions student had gone unaddressed. 

That student was Felix Fraldarius.

Felix Fraldarius was the son of a celebrated knight: Duke Rodrigue, the Shield of Faerghus. Duke Rodrigue and King Lambert had been fast friends, this was known. What was more, Lord Rodrigue’s own firstborn son was in the king’s retinue on the day of the assassination. This meant, for Duke Rodrigue, the assassination took from him his best friend and his heir. 

Duke Rodrigue had many motives for revenge. He wasn’t called the Shield of Faerghus for nothing.

Parvati cleared her head. She didn’t want to think about that. That was not a good way to start the day.

She went back to the table in her living room and was about to stamp a seal on it when she realized, there was another letter. She had written two of them! The second letter talked about the situation with the Eisners. It reported good relationships she’d built up with Manuela, and of course Hanneman, as well as Catherine and Shamir and Alois. 

There wasn’t anything in the letters regarding Viceroy Seteth. There was no mention of how he had brought Parvati and Dimitri to a surprise, amicable resolution. There was no mention of the scary look from Lady Rhea. If the Church happened to read this mail, no way she was going to put anything incriminating in there. Her drunk ass wrote letters safe enough for the Viceroy or Lady Rhea were reading them. Parvati shook her head, chuckling. Now that was impressive. Maybe she should write all her letters to Randolph drunk. 

Then Parvati remembered what Catherine had said during dinner the night before: “Have you been writing letters to him? Telling him, just how cold and empty your bed is?”

Parvati bit her lip, her stomach doing flips. Maybe…especially given how…clinical the majority of this correspondence was…perhaps he would appreciate… 

She took out one more parchment of paper and wrote one more sentence. 

Dear Randolph, 

My bed is cold and empty without you. 

Your Love, 

Me

Parvati flushed as she considered the letter. Was she really going to send this letter? Maybe, considering how short it was, Randolph would be astounded. 

Or…she thought, maybe not… She was starting to get very hot. It was just occurring to her that he would be astounded for a different reason… 

She sealed the letter, heart pounding, and picked at the wax seal until it was a perfect circle, muttering, “Don’t you dare make me wait two months, you…buttface!” She sighed. Then, thinking of how this one-liner would catch him by surprise, she smiled a sly smile, folded the letter, and headed off to post it.


What didn’t make it into the letters was a peculiar interaction with a certain Felix Fraldarius. A few days ago, he remained behind after Blue Lions Advisory. Dark of hair and not known to smile, Felix had not said anything to Parvati in any of his classes since the day he discovered Catherine and Shamir would teach the Blue Lions. This meant “Hmph. I guess you’re not completely useless after all” constituted almost the entirety of the words he had ever said to the professor. He was evidently just as quiet and moody with everyone else as well. He sat in the back of all of his classes, was the first to slip out of Hanneman’s Chemistry or Manuela’s Biology and the Healing Arts, and the first to the Training Grounds the moment Parvati released the Blue Lions from Advisory. 

Parvati was engrossed in a letter from Enbarr Imperial. She had failed to (forgotten to) inform one of the graduate students she was advising that she had already registered them for the annual Triumvirate Conference, and that he didn’t have nearly as much reason to be panicking the way he was in the letter. Randolph wasn’t the only one not receiving letters from her timely. 

Regardless, all of these thoughts pulled away when a lopsided belt came into view at the other side of the desk. Parvati, quite surprised, set the letter down. “Felix?”

“What did you think of that conversation?” he asked. 

“What conversation?”

“The one between Ashe and Ingrid.”

Parvati winced internally. “I didn’t hear it.”

Felix raised a brow. “Selective hearing? Is that your vice?” He crossed his arms. “All right, fine. We’ll do it your way. I’m going to pretend like I don’t know you were pretending not to be listening. They spoke of knighthood and chivalry. What it means to be a true knight. So, I want to hear it from you. What’s your opinion, Professor Parvati?”

Parvati raised a brow and folded the letter. “I couldn’t say,” she said. “I am not a knight.”

“But you are seeing one. Surely you have an opinion. So which is it? Are knights gallant and brave? Do they truly value friendship, loyalty and justice?” 

Why was he asking this? Did his father put him up to this? Parvati hummed. It would certainly make sense for the parents of all of the Blue Lions to put her through some incognito test. After all, what could she be teaching their impressionable children? The horrors! She had no idea what they would be reporting back home.

But she could not keep a straight face. Felix was right, she had been listening, and she recognized he was quoting things that Ashe had said. Oh Ashe, the sweet Cookie Boy… She had pulled the letter out to serve for cover when he and Ingrid had been talking back then. She could hardly mask her disdain and irritation at such naive assertions. Let the students think she was reacting to the letter: that had been the plan. 

But Felix saw through that. She grimaced, thinking, I don’t know anything about this kid. She knew he spent all his time in the Training Grounds avoiding people, and he was hard to impress, but his stance on chivalry? 

She clasped her hands and decided on a neutral statement. “Friendship and loyalty do not coincide with justice. They are uncorrelated, all three of them, down to a mathematical fact.”

“Oh yeah? And what about this one? Does the duty and pride of being a knight demand that they follow orders?”

Now he was quoting Ingrid. Parvati scoffed. It was following orders that brought the Faerghusi soldiers to genocide. Orders, fervor and zeal. Without question. Without hesitation. With pride, and worse: “duty.” What Parvati wanted to say to Felix was, “Garbage. It’s all garbage. It’s disappointing, the things people choose to believe.” 

But she said nothing, because he was the son of Duke Fraldarius. 

Her dismissive scoff was not enough for Felix. He said, “Answer the question: does the duty and pride of being a knight demand that they follow orders?”

She said, “No.” 

“Explain yourself.” 

Parvati scrunched her nose. “It’s way too early in the morning to do this.”

“Just answer the damn question.”

Sheesh, thought Parvati. When did she sign up for a surprise test? She groaned, rose out of her seat, and started packing things into her bag as she explained to him, “I don’t know where ‘pride’ comes into all of this, but as for duty…we are all equipped with a moral compass. We are all personally accountable for the things we do and do not do, regardless of who told us to do them. Whether we say we are doing something for our lords or our gods, we don’t get to divorce our sense of right and wrong. Our duty to do the right thing overrules all.”

She lifted a hand before he could say anything else. “Okay, that’s all the hard questions I’m answering today. Where is this coming from? Why are you asking?” 

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Do you know who I am?”

“Of course.”

“How much do you know?”

“That your father is the ‘Shield of Faerghus.’”

“And my brother?”

“Yes,” she said. “I have heard.” 

She hadn’t just heard about his older brother, she had investigated him, alongside his father. Parvati had cards in her Book of Cards for the both of them. His name was Glenn, Felix’s older brother, and he was the youngest knight inducted into the King’s Guard in history. It was quite easy to see why he was his father’s pride. He was the coveted future of Fraldarius, to whom the House was meant. But then…

“So you know he’s dead,” stated Felix.

Parvati nodded. “My condolences.”

“I don’t need your pity,” said Felix, defensive.

“It’s not pity.” She shook her head. “It’s a loss.”

Felix looked away, rolled his tongue across his teeth. “My father didn’t see it that way.”

She didn’t really want to talk about his father, but she let him.

“When my brother’s armor was brought back to the castle, do you know what he said?” asked Felix. “‘He died like a true knight.’ Chivalry begets the worship and glorification of death. Am I alone in finding that grotesque?”

Parvati’s eyes widened. “Wait. Y-You… You hate chivalry?”

What she did next caught them both by surprise: she started laughing.

His eyes widened. Then he glared at her. “Why are you laughing?”

“I — ” She tried to control herself, but her face broke into a grin, so astounded was she. “Hah! I would have never imagined! You! The son of — ” 

What more she intended to say was cut off by the bells of the monastery. There was, first, a jingle, a familiar tune. Then, with everyone primed to listen, they began to mark the hour. 

Dong. Dong. Dong. 

As the bells tolled, Parvati took a closer look at Felix. He looked just like his father, whom she had seen once during Orientation. That jet hair, those auburn eyes, the slim face. Even the frame of his body was an echo of the man Parvati could do nothing but detest. The one difference: Felix was clean-shaven.

Dong. Dong…The bell tolled eight. The next class was already starting.

She said, “You need to get going. Let me sign you a late pass. Just hold on.”

“I won’t need it,” said Felix darkly. 

If she let him go now, he’d walk away with a terrible impression. She reached out to him. “Felix!”

He looked down at her hand on his arm, then at her. 

She withdrew, rather quickly. “I didn’t mean to laugh at what your father did. It was — about chivalry, your tone, your — ” she chuckled, “— your frank analysis. I — ” She hesitated.

He narrowed his eyes, but waited. 

“I didn’t know I would find someone else who thinks like that here,” Parvati admitted. “Here, at the Officer’s Academy! That surprise was…welcome.”

He considered her for a moment, then pulled away. She could tell nothing of what he was thinking as Felix strode down the aisle all the way to the back of the class. He disappeared momentarily as he stooped behind the tall chairs and tables to retrieve his school pack, then rose back up. When he stepped out of the classroom, however, into a slanting rectangle of sun, he looked back, once, over his shoulder. And then, Felix departed.

How fascinating, she thought to herself. Felix and Dimitri…are both… They were so unlike anything she had ever expected. So…the second son of the Shield of Faerghus… Parvati shouldered her messenger bak and stepped out of the classroom. This is going to be interesting.


Beloved Randolph,

The students are beside themselves. Due to hail in the weather forecast, Seteth postponed the Mock Battle. The disappointment was rank .

I count myself amongst the greatly disappointed. There went my only chance to finally upgrade Hanneman’s stupid Crest Analyzer, while he was distracted! That thing is so old, I’m embarrassed! 

In time though, we all (me included) stopped complaining when we saw the hail. They were the size of Lysithea’s fist! The monastery is recouping damages now, and there’s plenty of roof work to be done. Also, tons of gangly kids they could press-gang to do it! 

Child labor! Ha ha ! 

The Prince of Faerghus was among them!

Anyways, now the kids don’t get their Mock Battle, and they’d already been banned from going on missions thanks to the Eisner fiasco. I didn’t tell you, but all three of the House Leaders had gotten separated and attacked by bandits during a training exercise. The Ashen Demon and Jeralt’s company saved them. Tensions are brewing as they struggle to let off steam. They’re very vocal about not wanting to be pent up here. Your step-nephew Caspar is 50% of this.

But I worry about them. This is, funny enough, for me, a reprieve. I won’t be puttering around and twiddling my thumbs waiting for them. My hair has gone white with worry…

(Yes, I know. It’s already white. I’m from Duscur.)

On the bright side, Manuela is back to her sassy self. She has finally found it in her heart to work with Byleth. And Hanneman complains about his back.

Flayn gave me a flying lesson. …You should ask me later about that lesson.

Anyways, the rescheduled Mock Battle will be next week, this time with a forecast of sunny skies (if they’re accurate). After that, the Black Eagles are to be sent to the Red Canyon to handle bandits, the Blue Lions to Derdriu against pirates, and the Golden Deer to the Great Bridge of Myrddin — for some kind of “hacker on” dispute, I don’t know, I have no idea. 

All three houses, gone at once, for a whole week! I will finally get to research! 

And they’re going to have a lot of math to make up when they get back. I’m not allowed to tell them that, though; Shamir said it will hurt their morale.

Well now, this looks long enough. I haven’t received any more of your letters. Have you been getting mine? 

I heard the Fifth Division was sent down the Airmid River to handle a monster infestation… You better be fine! Oh and, you might see the Golden Deer if you look across the river, when you come back to that Myrddin bridge.  If you do, you tell them I said hi.

Send my love to Fléche and your mother! 

And here, I enclose a kiss. 

[red lipstick mark]

Your Lovey,

Me

Chapter 27: Intermission 2: The Mission

Chapter Text

It was the signal officer who said it first. “Congratulations, Commander! ”

Commander Randolph didn’t notice. He and his superior, High Commander Ladislava, were on their way to investigate a roving merchant caravan, and he had to hurry to keep pace. Luckily, with the boots Parvati had gotten him, he needn’t hesitate wading into ankle-high water with them.The mud wasn’t boot-sucking yet, and they were tightly sealed and waterproof. It took a fine penny to buy him these, the likes of which she would not disclose to him. They served him well now in keeping up with his superior. But Ladislava was a full foot taller than him and Laslow both, and had a punishingly long stride.

Rumor had it they were selling unregistered Umbral Steel, which often meant the Umbral Steel was fake. Randolph had already sent his subordinate Laslow ahead to investigate, and was brisk in stride behind his boss as the rain worsened overhead. A thick fog had been rolling out of the Oghma Mountains and general morale had gone from good to gloomy in a matter of hours. 

Fort Varley, the northern Adrestian border meeting the southern border of the Church-held Oghma Mountains, was a customs and immigration center when it wasn’t manned to defend. In a kerfuffle of bad planning, Randolph’s von Bergliez Fifth Division and Ladislava’s Fourteenth Regiment had been sent to provide support for Fort Varley at the same time. Now it was extremely overstaffed; too many soldiers milled about, idle, and traveling merchants and passersby entered the country immediately alarmed by the overwhelming show of force and military presence at the mouth of the mountain pass. 

And the camps? The camps looked ridiculous. There wasn’t enough bedding in Fort Varley for a surplus division and an entire regiment even if it had been empty before, but the territory of Varley had its own defensive forces, half of them manning the clerical work of customs in these times of peace. 

The Varley soldiers had it good was the saying. A reasonable climate with four seasons, and a fortress that they could work inside of while processing travelers and immigrants. Unlike the other soldiers, they did not have to travel and roam to do practice drills in different types of environments. Varley soldiers were taught to be experts at defending one thing: an Adrestian fort at the base of the mountain, to keep out unwanted intruders coming down from the pass. It would literally be an uphill battle, but the soldiers generally rested easy knowing any enemy troops advancing through the mountains would be grumpy and exhausted by the time they made their exit. 

This meant that Randolph’s Fifth Division and Ladislava’s Fourteenth Regiment were camped on the Adrestian side of the border, surrounding the fortress and the trade routes leading out of the fortress in all directions. Along with the Varley violet, the Fifth Division’s Bergliez cyan and the Fourteenth Regiment’s Hrym red tents, flags and paraphernalia stretched on both sides of the road for miles across. What started with order on one side of the road became utter chaos as soon as one stepped across. There were clear lines where Fifth Division ended and Fourteenth Regiment began on the north side of the trade routes, but the south side became a patchwork with no understanding of why there were violet Varley tents in the mix as well. 

It was all…genuinely ugly, a pain on everyone’s eyes to see, and an embarrassment for all of the Adrestian commanding officers. It only took one wyvernback ride for Ladislava to understand what first impression everyone coming down from the Oghma Mountains would gather of Adrestia, and with that came the order to disassemble the entire southern camp mishmash and reassemble everything orderly.

That was supposed to happen today. In the mud, in the rain, the High Commander didn’t care. But Commander Randolph took pity on the soldiers. He told his superior she was going to sit with her discomfort for one day more. No one wanted to be outside of their tents today. And, if need be, they would delay tomorrow as well. The entire Southside — as it was coming to be called — sighed in relief. Randolph was very popular today. 

So he didn’t realize what people were saying when they, as he passed them by, congratulated him. First it was the signal officer, dressed in purple to denote Varley. Then it was a fire control specialist from Bergliez. Then it was the ballista technician that had recently transferred from Hevring, followed immediately by the trio of infantrymen with their matching tattoos that said: Wyverns for breakfast, Dragons for lunch! People came out of their tents with their hands, helmets or shields over their heads to call out to him. 

Ladislava looked at Randolph. She asked, “What’s going on? Is Parvati pregnant?”

Randolph’s heart skipped a beat. Parvati…pregnant? It…couldn’t be… Then he assessed whether he had heard her correctly. “What was that?”

“What’s with all this congratulations, Randolph?”

“I thought they were congratulating you.”

“No, I thought they said Parvati. Can’t properly hear over the rain.” Ladislava sloshed into a road newly turned to mud as she said, "I didn’t think that was the order of things. Not for you, at least, Randolph.”

Randolph said, “Stop.” He couldn’t tell if Ladislava was joking.

But his stomach turned as his thoughts turned to Parvati. He had not received any letters… He told himself there was a reason for this…for this silence of weeks… Are you sure she’s going to remember you? Laslow’s words rang in his head again. His footing slipped and he splashed deeper into a puddle following Ladislava. The High Commander, didn’t hear him over the rain, so she kept going. That was good. It gave him a moment to shake off his grim thoughts.

At the rendezvous point, a captain’s tent, Laslow was waiting for them. He nodded at Randolph and reported to his younger twin. “What a surprise,” he said. “It’s real! The Umbral Steel is real. But the reason it wasn’t registered was because it hadn’t come from the Oghma Mountains. They imported it from Almyra.”

“Almyra?” Ladislava glanced at Randolph. “Why would it come from Almyra?”

Laslow opened his mouth to answer but his sister held a hand up. 

“Actually, I don’t care why it came from Almyra,” said Ladislava. “What I really mean is, how did it make it all the way here? Why wasn’t it all bought up in Hrym?”

Laslow shrugged and shook his head. 

“There must be something wrong with it,” said Ladislava, putting a hand on her hip. “It doesn’t make any sense for it to have reached this far from Almyra.” 

“I can look into it further, Sis,” said Laslow, nodding to her. He turned to Randolph. “In other news, have you heard the news about Parvati?”

Ladislava gave Randolph a look that said, I told you so.

Randolph frowned. She was not supposed to be news. “What is it? ”

“She’s been selected to be the Premier for the Blue Lions.”

“Premier?” said Ladislava.

“Blue Lions?” said Randolph.

Ladislava said, “Hold on, that doesn’t make sense — she doesn’t do combat.” She looked at Randolph. “Does she?”

Laslow snorted. “No.” He had seen Randolph’s attempts to train her at…anything… “She was chosen,” explained Laslow, “selected. By none other than…” He looked at Randolph. “The Prince of Faerghus.”

It was as if he had dropped into cold water. Randolph said, “What? ” 

His head filled with thoughts. I told her to be careful. I told her to be wary. I told her to stay away from him.

“How do you know this?” asked Randolph. “Of course, the soldiers of Varley…”

Laslow nodded. 

“Always the first to know anything about Garreg Mach,” Ladislava intoned.

“You told her not to talk to him, didn’t you?” asked Laslow.

“I did,” Randolph nodded. “Something must have happened…” 

“What do you mean?” asked Ladislava. 

Randolph hadn’t meant to say that aloud,. He admitted he hadn’t heard from Parvati.

“For a month?” cried Laslow.

Randolph bowed to Ladislava. “High Commander, I must take leave.”

Ladislava crossed her arms. Then she said, “No.”

Randolph’s eyes widened. Laslow too stared at his sister.

She had a gleam in her eye. “You will not take leave, Commander Randolph, because I am putting you on a mission. Go see to your lady love,” said Ladislava. “And when you come back, bring back a report…about the Blue Lions and the Prince.”

Chapter 28: The Six-Pointed Star

Notes:

Now for a loaded chapter. Thanks for bearing with me for the Intermission in the previous one! I am currently doing an online writing class where I am racing to write an original novel in a year, so the pacing in this story may be get wonky as I just plain try to push out chapters as they finish up. The intermission posted in the previous chapter honestly belongs 2-3 chapters afterwards, but I had it ready and I didn’t want y’all to keep waiting too long. 

Anyways! This one’s loaded. Next one will be as well. 

Thank you so much to LiquraroyoonAzureRain43GTAlexMisterAlto for the Kudos and Bookmarks! Thank you also always to DGRTDB, Michael, MisterAlto, Satelesque, and PadmaLily for all of your comments!   

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The day of the Mock Battle. The kids had been waiting for this for months. It was supposed to have happened over six weeks ago. Never mind the massive hailstorm the day of, but thanks to the bandits at Remire, and the Church of Seiros bungling security and leaving all three of the House Leaders — the future King of Faerghus, future Duke of the Alliance, and the future Empress of Adrestia — exposed, Seteth had postponed the Mock Battle.

Which was why, on the brisk, momentous Saturday morning, Parvati found herself trailing Claude and Dimitri to the Knights’ Hall instead of sleeping til noon like a good night-owl academic. That was where it was decided the students would meet for the Mock Battle. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, since the wind blew their words away, but she could hear Byleth and Edelgard in the Knights’ Hall once she got out of the wind.

The Imperial Princess’s voice carried down the hall as, unknown to her, her opposition came down the hall to meet her.

“This is my chance to measure your worth as an instructor,” said the Imperial Princess. “Do you think you can rise up to the challenge?”

Parvati didn’t hear any verbal response, but Edelgard responded, “So confident. This will be interesting.”

It struck something inside Parvati to hear Edelgard speak to Byleth in that way. Dimitri never spoke to her that way, testing her constantly. She pulled the extra shawl she’d brought for added warmth over her head like a Hinduscuri bridal veil and felt sorry for Byleth. Parvati could only pull off her performance self during performances, not her constant daily life. What an energy-suck. She had other things to do with her time. It would hold her back.

Maybe it's good that I’m not with the Black Eagles, she heard a voice say in the back of her head as she considered what a future working directly with Lady Edelgard all the time would be.

Lady Edelgard and Byleth looked their way as Claude ambled forward.

“Hey there!” said Claude. “Did we miss our invite to this strategy meeting? Oh, no worries — we’ll just join in now.”

“Simply tell me your weaknesses, and you’re welcome to stay,” said Lady Edelgard. “But is there enough time to cover them all?”

Oh wow, thought Parvati. That was…unpleasant. It occurred to her now that she hadn’t really talked with her lady liege much. After all, during classes, it was Parvati doing all the talking. She enjoyed her time working with Duke Aegir and Ferdinand, but with the Imperial Princess… Might be best not to fly too close to this sun, thought Parvati.

“Ah, so you can’t win unless you know my weakness?” responded Claude. “Poor princess. You really should believe in yourself more.”

She couldn’t help it — Parvati chuckled behind him. She stopped when Edelgard and Byleth looked her way.

“I spare no effort when pursuing victory,” said Edelgard, eyes still on Parvati. Parvati broke into a cold sweat. Lady Edelgard turned back to Claude and said, “As a master of schemes, I should think you would understand.”

“Schemes? Me?” said Claude. “I have no idea what you’re talking about! I plan to fight fair and square, as ever.”

Parvati shook her head. Apparently Dimitri felt the same way. He shifted his weight where he stood half a foot beside her and said, “Hearing the words ‘fair and square’ from Claude can only be a bad omen.”

“Your Highnesses haven’t known me for very long, but you already have me figured out, don’t you?” said Claude. 

“No need to poke fun,” said Dimitri. “I will fight with honor. That said, I will fight to win.”

Parvati looked his way. “You’re going to lose.”

All eyes fell to her. Prince Dimitri was the last to look her way, so unbelievable was it that the one who spoke was her. 

She was doubling down however. “If Claude doesn’t fight fair, he’ll use your honor and you.”

Dimitri frowned at her. “Whose side are you on?”

“Today?” asked Parvati. “Yours.”

Which brought a chilling fact to the fore for him. She could see it in his eyes. His gaze went from her to over her shoulder, where, behind her, Lady Edelgard’s lips curled into a smirk.

Claude’s arm came around his shoulders in an instant as he said, “See, this professor, you’ve got to woo, Your Kingliness.” 

“I’m already trying…”

That was not the reaction Claude expected. “What?”

Dimitri knocked him off of his shoulders. “Not like that, Claude.”

“Well, we’re the ones who are going to win, right, Professor?” said Lady Edelgard.

“I don’t intend to lose!” said Byleth. 

Parvati glanced at her, wide-eyed. That was five more words she’d heard from her since the day they met. Parvati chuckled. “Such energy in the morning…I’m envious. Well! Good luck, everybody! I am going.”

“You’re not coming?” Dimitri asked. Everybody looked at her again, her prince looking downright betrayed.

Parvati couldn’t stave off her remorseless grin. “You keep Hanneman occupied. Don’t be too quick! I have to do something important.”

“Professor Hanneman?” Dimitri said. 

“You look like you’re scheming something, Professor,” Claude said. “Are you sure you shouldn’t have been my professor?”

They could hear Manuela laughing from outside, with Professor Hanneman. 

“They’re coming!” Professor Parvati whispered. She pointed a finger at the lot of them. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

And with that, they watched her sprint out of the Knights’ Hall.

“For all her talk about being envious of energy,” said Claude, “she looks more energetic than us all.” 

Byleth nodded.

“You’re not coming?” carried the incredulous voice of Manuela. She and Hanneman watched Parvati disappear into the Reception Hall, then looked back to the students, puzzled. 

And the kids said not a word.


“What are you doing here?” asked Seteth.

There had been sounds coming out of Hanneman’s office. There shouldn’t have been sounds coming from Professor Hanneman’s office, because Professor Hanneman was supposed to be in the Mock Battle, so when Seteth walked into Hanneman’s office, he was not entirely surprised by what he found.

Professor Parvati was under the table with the Crest Analyzer, upside down, with smudges of gray on her face and her hair and metal implements in her hands.

“What are you doing here?” Seteth asked again.

She glanced up, just noticing him, and said, “Don’t tell Hanneman.”

Seteth walked into the room. “But what are you doing?”

“I’m fixing his stupid thing. …Also upgrading it.”

“Aren’t you going to see the Mock Battle?”

“No. Are you?”

Seteth was eager to get to it. At this point, he’d have to use his wyvern to get there, instead of walking to it, because he didn’t have that kind of time. He had wanted to ensure everything was ready so it could go smoothly. What he didn’t know was, now that he met Parvati, nothing would ever go according to plan. He watched her struggling with whatever she was fiddling with underneath the desk and growl.

“Seteth, will give me that?” she snapped. She was pointing at one of the armchairs.

“Give you what?”

“Underneath that. The bar.”

He had to get on his hands and knees to pull a cold black glass bar from underneath one of Hanneman’s armchair. He handed it to her and got back to his feet, wiping the dirt and dust off his elbows and knees. When he looked down again, her face was lit by a brilliant white light, and it looked like her teal eyes were glowing. He bent down to look under the table. The black bar in her hand was emitting the light. 

He remembered those.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, catching his eye when he bent down to look under the table.

Seteth said they had just received unsettling news about the Western Church, so he had been discussing it with Jeralt. Now Jeralt was already heading over to the Mock Battle.

“Don’t you think you should go?” she said.   

“I should.” 

Parvati collapsed onto her back with a frustrated sigh. “Oh yeah,” she said, “how did they even it out? Since the Black Eagles have both Byleth and Manuela…and my class had no one…”

Seteth watched her clamber out from under the table and turn the Analyzer back on. He said, “Each class has two instructors joining them. The Black Eagles have Byleth and Manuela, the Golden Deer Hanneman and Alois, and your Blue Lions Catherine and Shamir.”

It was clear from the way she was staring at the projector that she hadn’t heard a word he just said. “I’m sorry, what?”

Seteth sighed. “I’ll have you note that I despise repeating myself.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Parvati nodded. “Then we should talk at a time I am listening.”

Seteth’s brows went up. “Bold of you, Professor. Very bold.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Seteth. This is what you pay me to do. Put your arm out.”

“What?”

She pointed over the Crest Analyzer, then said, “Your arm.”

He frowned at her, frustrated, but put forth his arm.

There we go, see?” she said. “The Crest of Sichul.”

Kee-hol,” corrected Seteth.

“What?”

It was spelled C-i-c-h-o-l, so he had to correct Parvati on how to pronounce it again.

Key hole?” Parvati gave him a dubious face. “Now there’s a name I am not envious of. Can you imagine how he must have been made fun of by peers?” She mimicked a low, stupid, dumb voice: “Heh heh. Did the key ever — find it’s hole? Heheheh. Heheh. Heh.”

Seteth felt like he’d been slapped. This feeling was a first in a looooong time. A long time. Seteth pulled his arm out from over the Crest Analyzer, glaring. “He was not mocked.”

Parvati grinned. “No need to get personally offended, Boss. You wouldn’t know. The guy’s dead already!” Parvati put her own arm over it. What projected onto the ceiling was — nothing. “Well, either that, or he’s so old he doesn’t care. Either way…he doesn’t need defending.”

Seteth — St. Cichol himself, more importantly — crossed his arms. He thought he had started to like her, just a little bit. Now he categorized her permanently in his head as decidedly annoying. 

“Look! It’s much better now!” she said, admiring her creation. “No skin pricks and no more blood! Now Professor Hanneman can be less annoying.” 

She put her other arm over the Analyzer and dropped her smile. “Uh oh,” she said. “What is that?” she said.

They both looked up. Projected onto the ceiling was what looked like two curving sides of a triangle. Like a tooth. Nothing Seteth recognized as a Crest by any means; the third side didn’t even fit in the projection. It looked like an error.

She took her arm away, and then put it back again. Same projection.

“Oh no,” she said. “I broke it.” Her stared at the project for a few moments, aghast. Her shoulders drooped. Then she started muttering to herself. “Oh Shiv, how am I going to fix it…? …Well, if I can’t fix it, no one else can.” 

She took her pine green cloak off, tossed it onto the nearest armchair, flashed past Seteth and out of the room, and came back in with a — dagger? thought Seteth, instinctively stepping aside. No, it was just her letter opener, which she immediately jammed into a slit on the side of the Crest Analyzer table.

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” asked Seteth.

“Don’t worry!” she said. “I know what I’m doing! …Sometimes!” There was the wooden sound of a compartment opening. She popped a panel open along the side of the table and pried off the lid. “This is the part that sucks about being the world’s greatest Ancient Technologist. When something goes wrong, there’s no one else who can fix it!”

“Now what is this ruckus?” Seteth heard a voice from behind him. He turned to see Tomas the librarian entering the room with his clacking cane. Tomas leaned his head forward and narrowed his eyes so he could better see, then stiffened. He said, “Seteth…the Mock Battle…won’t you be going? It will surely be starting without you.”

Seteth nodded, stepping away. 

Parvati didn’t look up, so focused was she pointing her light into the panel. “I swear this all looks right…” she said. 

Just like Hanneman, thought Seteth. There was no point in talking to her… Seteth walked out into the hallway and had just turned into the stairs when he heard Parvati scream. “AAAH! …Who are you?”


 

Sylvain didn’t like what he was seeing when the Blue Lions were returning from the Mock Battle. Ahead of him, Prince Dimitri too was in a towering mood. Sylvain followed Ashe and Prince Dimitri into the Entrance Hall and started up the grand staircase. His Highness was caked in mud in the front, from his fall to Hubert, Petra and Hilda. His backside was wet and dark where he had fallen backwards into the creek to avoid Hilda’s axe. But that was the end for him. Lost balance, landed in water, couldn’t get up before Petra hit. Now the mud was baked onto his greaves and coming off in crusts and crumbles as they walked. He was growing welts along the rim of his jaw, and was clenching and unclenching a fist with his left hand.

Sylvain himself was still feeling the fire inside his arm of the healing magic trying to reunite the flesh in his left upper arm. He’d never experienced a healing power more efficient than Manuela’s, but, as she was rationing the healing to divide amongst the eight who had been critically wounded had there not been healers at the ready, there was no magic to be spent on numbing the sensation of white fire restoring the muscular connections, or worse, muscle-to-joints. 

“Did you land on your wrist?” Sylvain asked the prince.  

His Highness grunted. Ashe glanced at his House Leader, then looked back down at his feet as they climbed. Sylvain opened his mouth to say something encouraging to Ashe. Ashe was taking this the hardest. He had been right beside him. Wasn’t able to cover His Highness in time. But the words left as Sylvain spotted Professor Parvati coming to the edge of the top of the stairs. 

Professor Parvati. He hadn’t seen her in the crowd watching the Mock Battle anywhere.  He hadn’t spotted her anywhere amongst the crowd watching the Mock Battle. An Officer’s Academy Premier being absent was absolutely unprecedented. (Granted, that was usually because they were on the battlefield.) But he imagined there must have been some sort of emergency. Seeing the professor now, however, she looked perfectly healthy and hale.  Sylvain had to put his assumption to question. 

Professor Parvati was standing on her tip toes and looking down from the top of the grand staircase, glancing passed them and traveling laterally at the top of the stairway trying to look around them.

“How was the Mock Battle?” Sylvain heard her ask as the Prince. She barely glanced at him as he passed by, or at any of the Blue Lions straggling behind him. Sylvain looked back down the stairs behind him to see what she was searching for. Right behind him, Annette was doing the same.

“You would know if you had come,” the prince growled in response to her.

Professor Parvati hopped out of his way, startled, as he swerved past without so much as a glance, disappearing in the direction of the student dorms. She looked back at the rest of them.

Ashe came to a stop beside her and rubbed his neck as he said, “We got a sound thrashing.”

“Thrashing? Even with Shamir? With Catherine?”

That didn’t make them feel any better. Annette pulled at one finger with her other hand as she fixated upon her feet. “We’re sorry, Professor.”

“Sorry?” the professor blinked. “What are you apologizing to me for?”

Sylvain could see Annette’s face get stuck at being puzzled. It wasn’t in her sweet nature to realize the professor didn’t care. But Sylvain did. Or so it felt, seeing the way she forgot them the moment she spotted whatever she had come to seek. Without another word, Professor Parvati floated down the stairs towards the Golden Deer, who were just wandering in at the bottom. The still climbing Ingrid and mud-caked Felix looked over their shoulders as she passed wordlessly.

“Gee, Professor, thanks for the encouragement!” Sylvain hollered snidely behind her. 

She didn’t even hear him. Lorenz was greeting her at the bottom. What the hell was she doing? She was the Blue Lions Premier. She was supposed to be consoling them. Or encouraging them. Or — something. This was terrible for morale!

Sylvain put a hand on his hip when Felix and Ingrid caught up to him. He said,“Unbelievable. Not a single Are you okay? Not a Where are Dedue and Mercedes?

Ashe and Annette glanced at each other. Ingrid looked at him in surprise, then intoned, “Yes…not even hello or goodbye.”

“Maybe she was really embarrassed,” Annette said, her eyes welling up with tears. 

“No, she wasn’t,” muttered Sylvain. “She’s just…not even listening.”

That’s what he thought until they overheard Lorenz. He was boasting to Parvati as she scuttled past. “What did you think of how I bested Catherine, Professor?”

And she actually paused a moment. “You defeated Catherine?” Her mouth took the shape of an ‘o’. “Good job! 

Sylvain stiffened. “Good job?” Ingrid muttered under her breath. 

“Mmhmm, quite splendid, if I do say so myself!” Lorenz posed. “W-Wait, didn’t you see it?” 

The joke was on him when the professor asked, “Where is Hanneman?” 

“I wonder why she didn’t come,” said Ingrid.

“Who cares why she didn’t come?” responded Sylvain.

“She has her reasons,” said Ashe. “She’s a pacifist.”

Which was a surprise to Sylvain. He glanced at Ashe. Ever since the one-on-ones where the professor spent time alone with each of the Blue Lions, the professor and Ashe started getting along well. She didn’t spend any time with Sylvain, of course, and honestly, after all her flirting interference, that was starting to be how Sylvain liked it. 

But he didn’t care about any of that right now.

Felix, who until now had said nothing, spoke up. “A pacifist? Then she doesn’t belong here.”

Ashe and Annette looked at him. “That’s…a little harsh, don’t you think?” said Ashe.

Annette shook her head. “Well, I don’t know. If you’re a pacifist, why would you teach at the Officer’s Academy?”

Ashe shook his head and frowned. “Why would that stop her from teaching? We students should get every different perspective, shouldn’t we? Just because we know how to wield a weapon doesn’t mean we should.”

Annette thought for a bit and said, “You’re right, Ashe. If there are other options, we should take them.”

Ashe nodded. “And there won’t be other options if we don’t learn how to find them.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with this,” snapped Sylvain. His father, Margrave Gautier, was not going to be happy about this. This was the first time that the Blue Lions lost, lost this badly, in a Mock Battle in years. They hadn’t placed last in over a decade. 

And then they heard a squeal they realized was Professor Hanneman. “P-Parvati! You did what?”

The Blue Lions exchanged alarmed glances. And then, in the company of everyone else in the Entrance Hall, they watched the newly victorious Golden Deer Premier thunder off to the Teacher’s Wing, Professor Parvati meekly jogging after him. 

“What the hell was that?” asked Felix. 

“I don’t know. Let’s go eat!” said Ingrid, leading the rest of the Blue Lions into the Dining Hall. 

Sylvain watched them go and sighed, his thoughts winding their way back to his father. Then he remembered the prince had departed back to the student dorms, solo. I’d better get some food for him, he thought, since Dedue wouldn’t be able to. Dedue was carrying Mercedes to the infirmary. Manuela had said Mercie would be fine after a week or so, but...Sylvain shook his head as he followed after the rest of the Blue Lions to get some grub, thinking back to the spear Petra had shot through Mercedes. 

This passes for normal here, Sylvain thought to himself. This…is my life. 

What a life.


“So what seems to be the problem?” Hanneman asked.

Parvati regarded the Crest Analyzer with mounting dread. She said, “It looked like it was working fine. I got to test it out on Seteth.”

Before she could add anything more, Hanneman looked at her, hard. “You tested it on Seteth! What did you see?”

She bit back a smile. “The Crest of key-hole.”

“Crest of Cichol!” Hanneman exclaimed. He stopped breathing. “A Major or Minor Crest?”

“Major,” said Parvati, relieved. He’d forgotten how much trouble she was in. 

Hanneman beamed, ecstatic. Behind him, Claude and Ignatz had tagged along, Ignatz because he had a question and Claude because who knew what Claude was doing. Ignatz stood at the window overlooking the courtyards while the House Leader perused the books on Hanneman’s bookshelves. 

Huh. Well. Since she had two students here…

“Hanneman!” said Parvati. “Allow me to demonstrate!” Before anyone could stop her, she was in vibrant demo mode. “Claude, Ignatz, come here.” She directed each of them to put their arms over the projector in turns. “It’s even better than before! No skin pricks, no blood work, and it’s instantaneous!”

So it was. Claude’s arm projected the Crest of Riegan, while Ignatz’s did not produce anything. Hanneman raised his brows, appreciative. 

Parvati added, “Now you can be less annoying to everyone!”

Claude chuckled as Professor Hanneman said, “What?”

“And it’ll be quick to check Commander Jeralt and Byleth.”

Hanneman placed his own forearm over the projector to verify his own Crest. “It seems to work… So what’s the problem?”

Parvati put her hands on her hips. “It does looks like it’s not broken, doesn’t it?” Then she came forward and put her own arm in. Nothing. 

Hanneman said, “Okay…” Then she put her other arm, and he said, “Oh! …What is that?”

“That is what’s not supposed to happen,” Parvati said. “You can test their other arms.”

Each of the other occupants in the room redid the exercise with their other forearms. “Nope,” she said. “You all got your same results…”

“That means good news,” said Professor Hanneman. “I’d hardly like to retest everyone if different arms give different results…”

“But then, doesn’t that mean Parvati has something?” asked Claude.

“No,” said Parvati, shaking her head, “and that’s Professor to you.”

“I already checked Parvati,” said Professor Hanneman, “at age eight, ten and twelve and — ”

“Oh!” said Ignatz. “You knew Professor Parvati as a child?”

Parvati grinned. “Heheh. He practically raised me. He’s my other dad.”

“ — and fifteen,” said Hanneman, continuing talking to himself. “Before I had this machine, I tested her. There was nothing. …Though that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have acquired a Crest…by whatever means…”

This piqued Claude’s curiosity. “Acquired a Crest?”

From the way Hanneman was looking at Parvati, they were both thinking of Lysithea, who had gotten a second Crest inserted into her through human experimentation…experiments that wiped out her every other sibling. 

Hanneman hummed. “I wonder, Parvati, did we always use your left arm?” He stroked his beard as he paced. “You are left-handed, and the process would take so long, and you hated to get pricked… Now that I think of it, it’s quite likely that we’ve only tested your left arm.” He returned to the instrument. “Parvati, put back in your right arm.”

Someone cleared their throat. The four looked at who was standing at the door. Parvati’s adrenaline shot through the roof.

Tomas again. Why was he back?

He said, “I hate to interrupt, Professor Hanneman, but may we talk in private?”

That was all it took for Hanneman to park her outside with the kids. 

What the hell. Why did she get kicked out with them? Why couldn’t she be in on this talk that was so private? 

Though, she shuddered… She hadn’t enjoyed her previous interaction with Tomas. She went back to her office, mulling it over again. 

One hour ago, the old man had surprised her. She was tinkering with Hanneman’s Crest Analyzer and hadn’t noticed when Seteth had departed, but suddenly, Tomas was there. He had declared himself the librarian. 

And then he’d come forward to peer at her closely. Parvati backed up and scrambled around the table, putting something between them as the old man squinted at her.

The old man said, “My name is Tomas.” Then he went to the door…and closed it. 

This is getting creepyyyyyyyyyy… Parvati thought in song. Where did Seteth go? She clutched the lid she had unscrewed off the table in her left hand, and the letter opener. These were her weapons, if it came to that. 

Not very good weapons at all.

Then he started pulling down a sleeve of his robe.

Why is he doing that? thought Parvati. Why is he doing that? Why is taking off his — oh.

He was revealing his arm. He passed his arm over the Analyzer. Projected onto the ceiling was a six-pointed, curved-legged star. Parvati frowned. Where had she seen this six-pointed star before? It wasn’t a Crest, not one of the ones Hanneman had identified. But it was so familiar, just at the tip of her mind.

She looked back at Tomas as he retracted his arm and said, “Seteth.” And then he gave her a nod, as if she was supposed to understand something.

Parvati tilted her head. “What?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Be careful around Seteth. You cannot trust him.”

Parvati tried to keep a straight face. “O-Okay…”

Tomas stared at her for another solid minute. Then he pulled the sleeve of his robe back, hobbled back to the door, and looked over his shoulder. “Remember,” he said, “your secret is ours.”

And then he left the room. 

Parvati collapsed into the armchair behind her, shaking. What the heck? thought Parvati. What…the heck…was that?

Crest: Agarthan Technology

Notes:

Well well well! How about it? I actually didn’t anticipate this chapter to get so loaded. It’s a surprise how it came together, and I am interested in how it will impact the next chapter, because I originally had the next chapter occur before this one. It’s fun being the author and discovering the story as the first reader! 😄

Thank you thank you thank you to everyone for pushing this story over the edge of 400 comments!!! I am really going to have to do something to reward / celebrate you. I’ve got something planned for a few of you, but if you’ve got ideas / requests of things you’d like to see, let me know!

Chapter 29: For Honor

Notes:

Surprise! An early chapter! I wanted to celebrate a whopping 5000 hits 🥳🎉👏🏾, and what better way to celebrate than -- more chapters!

Gotta keep it short today. Thank you to everyone newly joining! Thank you for all of the Kudos, Bookmarks and Comments! I love seeing all of the reactions, especially since the Blue Lions drama in this fic is gonna pack heat. And I hope you're here for it! 😉 But I digress.

On a serious note: You will notice this fic is tagged with Graphic Depictions of Violence. That tag is not there for shits and giggles. And I think you've figured out by now that I don't need to take us into a battlefield to make plenty of mentions to Graphic Violence. This is going to be my one trigger warning for violence for this fic.

Also: (facepalm) This chapter is not a response to real-world events. (banging head on the wall) I can't believe the way it lined up this way...

But - have heart! The next chapter will be much more cheerful. 😆 We shall return to wholesomeness. And, I'll be able to feature some new Parvati fan art! Thank you so much so much so much to Chloe_Roo for her artwork!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The day after the Mock Battle, Prince Dimitri hurried to follow Sylvain and Dedue out of the training grounds. He found them both crowded around someone at the base of staircase to the sauna. Professor Parvati. He tried to quell a rush of irritation. She had hardly spoken to the Blue Lions, according to Sylvain, and she had yet to call upon Mercedes, who rested either with Annette or alone in the infirmary. How could she neglect Mercedes? 

All of these thoughts were soon overtaken by concern when he saw her frantic motions. 

“It’s Manuela!” she was telling the other two. “We went into the sauna! She passed out! Is Ingrid with you? She’s the one with the cooling magic, isn’t she?”

Sylvain said she is, but she wasn’t in the training grounds now. “Should I fetch someone from the infirmary?”

“Good idea, Sylvain,” said Parvati. “Yes, yes, that might be faster.” 

He departed.

“Where is Professor Manuela?” asked Dedue. 

Parvati motioned up to the sauna. “I dragged her out,” she said, heaving with a hand on her chest. “I don’t know what she was doing. She kept waiting for me.”

Dedue nodded. “Very well. I will bring down Professor Manuela.” He hesitated for a moment. Then, seeing the Prince join them, he asked, “Your Highness, I beg your pardon, but if I may?” He was pointing at something at Dimitri’s shoulder.

“Of course,” said the Prince, thinking Dedue was asking for permission to attend to Professor Manuela.  

That was not what Dedue was doing. Dedue reached upon the Prince’s person and unbuckled the bronze clasp of the Blue House Leader cape. Then the House Leader cape left his shoulder. Neither Sylvain nor the Prince had time to react. Dedue placed the Blue Lions House Leader cape onto Professor Parvati.

Parvati blinked. “Wait, Dedue, what are you doing?”  

He fanned the cape out in front of her and said something in Duscuri, to which her eyes went wide with outrage. 

“Are you serious?”

Dedue responded calmly again, in Duscuri, and she burst in fury: 

“I am wearing clothes!” This drew glances her way and she caught herself. She flushed as she said, “You know what? Just go. Just go get Manuela. Just go.”

Dedue turned obediently and started heading up the stairs, leaving an infuriated Professor Parvati clutching the Blue Lions cape.

“What was that?” asked Dimitri.

She spat, “Nothing.” Then she saw the way his brows lifted and remembered herself. After all, no one had ever talked like that to the Prince. Ever. She took in a deep breath and wrapped herself further in his cape and glared at any passersby that wasn’t moving along.  “It looks like Dedue is very…” She fumbled for the right word. “Traditional. He thinks this beach dress doesn’t stand up to Hinduscuri norms.”

“Ah,” said the Prince. 

“You don’t need to understand,” she said defensively. And then her shoulders slackened as she looked away. “You won’t.” 

“Then make me,” he said.

The professor blinked. 

“Make me understand,” said Prince Dimitri, because she was right: he didn’t understand. Her response was — to Dedue of all people, a student so even-keeled — animus. His irritation, the same flicker of irritation that had been nagging him all day, came back again. 

Though, he didn’t see what was wrong with what the professor was wearing. There was no denying it. It was a captivating white beach dress with lace lattice shoulders that flared out into long sleeves. That lattice certainly showed some skin, but the bodice was a white sheen with floral embroidery, not completely see-through. The white sheen extended down her hips and branched into a split skirt. From the way she had now latched the two top ends of the cape around her neck tied the bottom two corners of the cape behind herself, Dimitri could guess what Dedue had been protesting: her sky blue swimwear. 

The Prince was glad she had sent Sylvain away.  

Parvati looked pained. “I am glad you are so tall,” she said, tugging at the cape. “This goes almost down to my knees.” She was referring to the cape now, which at this point, she had miraculously fashioned into a dress. “The Hinduscuri norms of covering up can be extremely stringent and conservative. If I was ever without my earrings or necklace, my mother would ask me why I was naked. No leaving the house without my bangles either.”

Dimitri’s brows rose. “Then I suppose I am naked.”

Parvati chuckled. “No, that — it — really is for women. Though I see Dedue wears an earring too…” She felt at the tips of her ears, which at present were bare, and muttered almost wonderingly to herself, “Yes, he might be traditional…” 

Traditional, is he? wondered the Prince. He had no context by which to judge what kind of Duscuri his cherished vassal might be. No other Duscuri to compare against and no other Duscuri to tell him.

Professor Parvati returned her attention to the Prince. “There’s a lot to love about Duscur. Their treatment of women is not one of them. I won’t bore you with the gory details.” She bowed. “I apologize about the way Dedue just behaved. I will talk about this to him and…” He could hear the conflict in her voice as she finished, “…will perhaps have to refrain from making him feel he has to act this way.”

“But we are not in Duscur,” said the Prince. “You did nothing wrong.”

That look on her face…he hated that pitying look on her face. What she said next came out tentative. 

“Your Highness,” said Professor Parvati. “You…do know…that even Faerghus, compared to Adrestia, is considered conservative when it comes to women?”

This was uneasy ground for him. He nodded. 

“Well, consider how conservative Faerghus was fifty years ago — and then imagine worse. In Duscur, we are not allowed to inherit. We do not have female priests. We cannot lead temple rituals. In fact, we are not even allowed to set foot in a temple if we are bleeding. We are considered dirty.”

The Prince’s mouth dropped open.

The professor crossed her arms, which took the shapeless shift-form of the cape billowing about her and cinching it around her body like a dress. “To give you a more full extent of the picture…until very recently, one not uncommon practice was…” She stopped, and thought better of it, then shook her head. “No.”

“What?” asked Dimitri. 

“Never mind,” she said. 

Tell me.

He couldn’t look away from the steel in her teal eyes as she said it to him. “One of the worst was…when a man died…sometimes…they would cast into his flaming funeral pyre…the widow. His living wife.”

What!?” Prince Dimitri recoiled. “That is…unconscionable!”

“Or, they would throw themselves in.” Hers was a bitter smile.

She could see in his eyes the next question: Why? 

“It is the ultimate act of devotion. The ultimate sacrifice,” she answered. “For honor.

Prince Dimitri opened his mouth and closed it, at a loss of what to say to this. His horror engulfed him. The Prince fished for words, for thoughts, something to make it make sense. Then he remembered, “You said ‘until recently.’ What changed?”

The professor blinked in surprise, then gave a tinkling laugh. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

The professor’s eyes danced as she revealed to him: “Lord Kleiman.”

The Prince’s eyes widened. Lord Kleiman. The man currently the regent of the Duscuri state? The man who, having helmed the conquering of Duscur, was awarded rulership by Prince Dimitri’s Uncle Rufus?

The professor was gauging his reaction. He could see it. He didn’t know if she knew it, but she was smiling at him. 

He said, “What?”

She shrugged. A false gesture.

He looked about himself, to see if there was something else she was smiling at, then asked, “Do you not…hate…Lord Kleiman?”

“Oh, it’s a given I hate him,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t see when he’s done something the Hinduscuri, for two thousand years, refused to do.” 

“Two — thousand?” he said. Then he outright asked her, “Why are you laughing?”

“Ho ho ho ho, because it is such a complicated world.” She put her hands on her hips. “That’s what you are going to discover, again and again, if you think, and if you look closely enough. It isn’t about country or religion. Every culture has its beauty…” Her face darkened. “…and every culture is ugly. Most people can’t handle that. They can’t accept it in one person. They can’t accept that in a people. They can’t face the dichotomy, that we are all great — and terrible.”

Prince Dimitri could feel her eyes on him again.

“We can’t see the human in our enemies. We can’t see the monsters in our friends.”

A flush of goosebumps rippled across the Prince’s flesh. There was a moment of deep connection. Something in the way she said it…he knew it was truly meant for him. She…knows something, thought Prince Dimitri. And, further back in his head, deeper down, in his heart, he feared that he knew something too… The same thing that she was referring to…

“Lord Kleiman raised the marriage age for child brides as well,” added Professor Parvati. “No one else is going to say this, Your Highness, but Lord Kleiman, of all people, wasn’t all bad for Duscur.” And then she shuddered, ran her hands up and down the lattice of her sleeves.

Professor Parvati looked over her shoulder. Sylvain was calling to them. He came forth with a healer in tow, a Garreg Mach priest. 

“Shan Yuan, did she get the flowers?” asked Parvati. She seemed to know him.

“Flowers?” asked Sylvain. 

“Ah, Professor! Yes, yes,” said Shan Yuan. “I personally delivered the flowers to Mercedes. And found out Head Physician Manuela herself had already explained to Annette and Mercedes that you are not allowed in the infirmary.”

The Prince and Sylvain glanced at each other. The Prince asked, “Not allowed?”

Shan Yuan bowed to the Prince deeply. “Professor Parvati is severely allergic to magic. Since so much of the work of healing is done by magic over there, it is dangerous for her to be in the infirmary. Head Physician Manuela herself has banned her from entering.”

“Which is a little excessive…” grumbled Parvati.

Shan Yuan inclined his head in her direction. “Head Physician Manuela was deeply regretful of the trouble she had near caused you. She only means to protect.”

Ah, thought the Prince. For a moment, he and Sylvain were unable to look at each other. There was a reason Professor Parvati had not visited Mercedes…

“Please be not concerned,” said Shan Yuan, yet again bowing. “We are accustomed to caring for those who — over-enjoyed — the sauna. I will take care of this.” 

“Hold a moment,” said the Prince, stopping Professor Parvati, Sylvain, and the priest.

“I have one more thing to discuss with the professor,” he said, waving the other two away. “We will be right up, Sylvain.”

Sylvain looked from the Prince to the professor, curious. He followed the priest up. 

“What is it?” asked Professor Parvati. 

“Why didn’t you come to the Mock Battle?” asked Prince Dimitri. 

She was quiet for a moment. “Why did you want me to be there?”

He frowned. What did she mean why did he want her to be there? Didn’t she know how big…how important the Mock Battle was? The Mock Battle was one of only two events that pit the Three Houses — the three nations — against each other on the battlefield. It was a display of military prowess and pageantry. It was…

He was overwhelmed. Why did she have to ask him why he wanted her to be there?

The words that came out were at the tip of his tongue because he had just heard them. It wasn’t until after he said it, and saw her she shake her head with something that looked either like resentment, or disbelief, that he recalled what terrible context they had come with. 

For honor,” she repeated his words. “You know what else was done for honor?” she asked. “The Duscur Massacre.” 

He frowned. 

“Why would I want to see the precursor…of people becoming that?”

The Prince recoiled. “What? We’re not — ”

Professor Parvati motioned to the two rows of student dorms. “Three of those dorms, Prince Dimitri… Three of those dorms housed three people who went on and led the Duscur Massacres.”

A chill ran down his spine.

“Whatever you were about to say would not come to pass,” said Professor Parvati, “it has already happened.”

Dimitri harkened back, to that day, when Professor Parvati had come seeking Dedue and him, fearful from news that they had been attacked by bandits. 

We will be all right, Professor, Dedue had said. We can defend ourselves. As warriors, we are some of the finest.

In fact, why don’t you come see? Prince Dimitri had said to her. We spar every day on the Training Grounds. I would love for you to come and witness.

No, she had said, I don’t think I will. 

Dedue had theorized it was because if war came to pass, the Blue Lions would be pit against Adrestia. They would face Commander Randolph one day… But now… 

Now Dimitri realized that was not it at all. Her reason was so much simpler. 

“My apologies, Your Highness,” she said, bowing, “but let us level-set our expectations. I was never going to partake in the Mock Battle. I will not be there to witness your next battle. I will not accompany you to Gronder Fields when it comes time for the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion. You have all of the rest of the Officer’s Academy to celebrate with you — Catherine and Shamir, Lady Rhea and Seteth, Byleth and Commander Jeralt, your friends, your people, your peers. So please do not ask for this.”

He stared at the dorms. There were eight Blue Lions dorms, and those dorms hadn’t changed. Three of those belonged to…people who led the massacre. It was nearly half a chance he was sleeping in one of them. If he wasn’t in one, chances were, Dedue was. What was he going to do? 

What are you going to do? whispered a voice in his head that wasn’t his. In fact, what are you doing? It was a voice that was very familiar.

Dimitri felt cold. He knew he was right behind him…the owner of that voice. A man who should be dead. 

It had been a while. Dimitri had had two good months…two good months that the voices had left him alone. And now he stared at the two rows of dorms, his mind racing. The world sounded far away now. Which ones? Which ones housed the people who had — 

What are you going to do, you disappoint —

“Dimitri!”

The Prince looked up. Professor Parvati was at the top of the stairs, waving him over her way. Broken out of his reverie, the Prince dared not look behind him. He sprinted up the steps, his head clearing as he followed after the professor. 

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! In the next one, we get to see...Manuela's apartment?!?
See you in the next one! 🤣

Chapter 30: The Promise

Notes:

A MEGA-THANKS Author’s Note

Hello, hello, hello everyone! I have so many people to thank today! Starting off with — naturally — you! Goodness gracious, Chapter 29 broke all records! 480 hits in 3 weeks? That’s more than twice the average chapter! WOW! Thank you thank you thank you! And to all the newcomers who have found this story ever since Three Hopes release, WELCOME!!! 

I have been so busy I haven’t been able to do this for a while, but I like to give personal shout outs to all of the people who have been dropping Kudos, Bookmarks and Comments over the last few months. Thank you thank you thank you to the following for the last 3-4 chapters!

Furthermore, I want to give PadmaLily a special thanks! PadmaLily recently swept through the story and left an eye-popping 11 comments in 24 hours!!! Holy crap aaaah that is seriously a dream come true!!! GURL.

Same to Noah — DGRTDB — who’s been hanging out for the ride for over a year, not just for this story, but for my original works as well! I’m going to do something special for you two in an upcoming chapter. The chapters and the content rearranged themselves, so it didn’t come in earlier, but I just want y’all to know something is coming! 

Also — final note! I. Got. More. FAN ART. SQUEEEEE!!! Thank you to Chloe_roo for such a sassy rendition of Parvati!!! 😍 🥰 💖 You can follow her on Twitter and Reddit!

Chapter Text

“She will be quite fine,” said Shan Yuan as Parvati knelt beside Manuela in the lobby of the sauna. “Head Physician Manuela needs only needs to be taken back to her apartment to rest.”

“I can help with that!” volunteered Sylvain.

I will take her,” Dedue countered immediately.

Yes he will,” Parvati heard the force in the voice of Prince Dimitri. She looked up in time to see Sylvain open his mouth to protest, but with one cross look was silenced by His Highness. The Prince turned to Shan Yuan again and added, “It is the least we can do, given what she has done, for us and for Mercedes.” 

“Perfect,” said the priest, oblivious of the heated exchange. “Would you guide them?”

In the split second it took for the priest to turn to Parvati, she had already calculated the unfortunate sequence of events coming for her. She would lead the Prince and Dedue back to Manuela’s apartment, and they would discover her apartment was right next door. All they had to do was read the plaques. 

Oh no, Parvati thought to herself. She could hardly handle how often the kid accosted her. He was a bit of a stalker, and completely self-unaware. Now he was going to find out where she lived? 

This was the worst! The actual worst! Parvati cursed internally, Damn you, Manuela!

Thus, twenty minutes later, she held the door open to the lobby of her apartment.

“So this is the Faculty Hall?” The Prince looked about. “You have a water fountain? Inside?” 

Parvati looked over her shoulder at him. Was that really something he had never seen? It made him sound like some country bumpkin. She considered what else she would have to expose him to, so he didn’t sound like he was — poor — in front of the Imperial kids. How sad, she realized. He would not be allowed to express his true joy and wonder were he to be strict in keeping a refined, royal facade. 

Dedue carried Manuela up three flights of stairs without breaking a sweat. “Aren’t you even tired, Dedue?” Parvati asked when he didn’t even pause in between landings. 

Dedue shook his head. “She is not heavy,” he said. He readjusted his grip on the professor. 

What the hell. These kids are superhuman! thought Parvati, shaking her head. It was not even fair! How could so much of humanity’s physical strength have been pooled into just two people? Parvati knew she was being petty. In other circumstances, she would have been amazed by Dedue’s feat of strength. But she was still mad at him. 

“Let me find the key,” she said when came to a stop outside Manuela’s apartment. She apologized softly and rummaged inside Manuela’s pockets and yelped.

“What was that?” asked the Dedue.

“I don’t know! Something…spiky…” said Parvati warily. Then more carefully she rummaged again, and eventually found a ring of keys and inserted them one by one. “Okay, it has to be it,” she said as she inserted the last silver one. Sure enough, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open.

The first hint that this had been a mistake was the sound after the door hit something and stopped half-way ajar. It had knocked into a half-full bottle of alcohol, which now rolled across the apartment floor, making that distinct plunking sound like a rock dropped into a pool. And then they saw the carnage.

There were papers and earrings and combs on the table. Wrappers of food items adorned one chair. Books and bookmarks, clothing items, other non-food packaging, and a couple of towels, lay all over the floor. Parvati’s eyes went wide. There was underwear lying on the floor. Bras hung from the corners of chairs. And that wasn’t even the worst of it. The boys saw it too, just past the underwear… Was that…?

Parvati and Dimitri took unison steps backwards and knocked into Dedue’s forearms.

A set of mushrooms was grew in the room’s far corner.

“Oh,” said Parvati. “Oh my.” She turned to Dedue and pointed. “Well, the bedroom should be that doorway,” she said in a shuddering voice.

Dimitri put a hand on Dedue’s shoulder. “You are a hero, Dedue.” By which he meant, he would not be accompanying his loyal vassal into this apartment. It smelled bad.

Dedue hesitated, looking into the room. Parvati didn’t know it, but this was the first time Dimitri was seeing him stop and stare at something before doing what he was told. Though technically, Dimitri had not commanded… That would have been too cruel.

The door, which had swung open, was now creaking back to a close. Dedue finally stepped forward, turning sideways to fit Manuela through the doorway. Parvati stuck her arm out over the door to hold it open. Both her feet were planted adamantly in the hallway. She and the Prince watched Dedue disappear into the bedroom doorway, and exchanged worried glances when he didn’t return right away. What other horrors had he encountered there?

When Dedue returned to them, both Parvati and Prince Dimitri let go of their breaths. Parvati tossed the key onto the table, locked the door from the inside, and pulled it closed once Dedue joined them in the hallway.

“Dedue,” said Parvati. She put her hands on his arms for emphasis. “You are a better person than I will ever be.”

Dedue blinked, processing.

“What was that?” asked Prince Dimitri.

Dedue only shook his head. “We should get out of this hallway,” he said, reminding them that any students found here would get into trouble. 

“Oh, yes, of course,” said the Prince, his eyes wandering back down the hall. It stopped when he found the plaque to Parvati’s apartment.. “So that’s…” 

She could hear his dread fill the silence. “There aren’t mushrooms,” she assured him.

He smiled sheepishly, glad. “Do we get to go in?” he asked. 

He was met with wide eyes. Are you serious? she thought. Even her internal monologue was shrieking. He was just going to welcome himself into her apartment?

Of course he was. He was the Prince. 

Parvati opened her mouth to say something, but then, she saw the unmasked excitement on Dedue and her heart entirely melted. She had never seen him look excited before. She sighed, “All right. Honestly, I do owe you both.”

When she put her key into the door, she could feel the eyes of her students boring into her back. They hadn’t even seen anything, but she was already feeling judged. She looked over her shoulder. “Why don’t you two…stay in the hallway for a moment? Let me fix things up real quick.”

They nodded twice in unison, and waited.


When their professor reopened the door, Dimitri and Dedue glanced at each other. This was the first time they would go through this door. The Prince was near giddy with excitement. 

“I’m going to go change,” said the professor, indicating the House Leader cape she was still wearing, “so I can get this right back to you. Stay in the living room, okay?”

“This scent…” he heard his vassal say as Dimitri followed Dedue in.

The door didn’t squeak like Manuela’s. It opened to a living room as big as the Prince’s dorm. His eyes went from right to left, soaking in everything. So this was where his mysterious professor lived… The first thing that came into view as the door pulled wide was the round table, and the bird cage. The cage was empty. At the other half of the living room was a blue unrolled mat surrounded by ancient technology scattered all across the floor. There were strange objects and boxes and cylinders Dimitri could not decode. When he looked at the wall above, he felt the breath smacked out of his lungs.

A giant Adrestian flag.

Prince Dimitri studied it, subconsciously glaring. The Adrestian banner featured a double eagle displayed, the wings outstretched, ferocious, the talons in outspread trios. The eagle was gold overlaid on a ruby banner that was flat on top and came down to a point, like a slightly rounded triangle.

Dedue’s footsteps traveling across around the room drew the the Prince’s attention. He heard Dedue gasp. Dimitri looked up. Dedue was looking back at the door. He closed and locked it, then returned to a painting on the other side of the room. Dimitri left the flag and joined Dedue and looked closely. In the blue of night, under a shining white moon, a man and a woman stood on a giant white lotus flower. They had their faces turned to each other lovingly. 

“What is it?” asked Dimitri. What was wrong? Why did Dedue gasp? Why did he close the door?

Dedue said nothing. In time, Dimitri got the sense he that he was saying nothing because he couldn’t say anything. Dedue swallowed.

In the painting, the man had indigo skin, long unruly silver hair, large golden hoop earrings and three layers of golden necklaces down his abdomen. The woman, also silver-haired, had brown skin darker than Parvati’s. She was adorned with golden bangles and earrings, and a golden crown bigger than her head. Along her wrist, the one extended outwards — curled a snake.

No, it wasn’t just a snake curling around her wrist — the snake was actually one of the man’s necklaces, curling around the woman’s bare back and rising out. They were interlocked by the snake.

Dedue cleared his throat. “These are my gods,” he said, “united in Mystic Dance.”

Dimitri looked back at the painting. These were Hinduscuri gods! “Mystic Dance?” he asked.

Now that he looked again, he realized, they weren’t just interlocked by the snake. The two of them were arm in arm, each with their left leg raised out in front of them and arched like a bow. With their arms interlocked, they relied on the other to provide a second leg. They stood in their dance pose on a white lotus seemingly six feet wide. It was beautiful… 

“Wait,” said Dimitri, “I’ve seen this god…”

Dedue nodded. “The God of Destruction,” he said. “Shiv is often identifiable by blue or black skin, wearing the tiger pelt, and accompanied by the snake along his neck.”

Wow! A tiger pelt! Shiv really was wearing just a tiger pelt! Dimitri’s eyes shone. It tickled his fancy. “And that?” asked Dimitri. “Who is the goddess?”

Professor Parvati called out to them. “Dedue,” she said. She was wearing her green cloak now, the cape was folded over the back of a chair at the table. In her hands was the source of a sweet smoke: a piece of coconut husk burning inside a brass goblet. Dimitri would soon learn to take in its fume. For now, though, the smoke stung his eyes and filled the apartment with a haze.

Dedue put his two hands just over the lick of fire, and passed his hands backwards over his hair. She said something in their language. He bowed his head. She put her right hand over the fire, and passed her hand over his head in the same way. She smiled at him.

Dimitri stayed back and stayed quiet, knowing what passed between them was something sacred. Then the Professor turned to the Prince, in her eyes a question.

“Your Highness,” said Dedue. “Bow your head, so you can accept her blessings.”

Ah, so that was a blessing, thought Dimitri. Then his eyes widened. She…wants to give…me…? 

The professor stood waiting for him. 

Dimitri bowed his head. He saw her hand pass over the fire again, and felt that hand come down upon his head. He closed his eyes, so he could feel the weight. A lump formed in his throat as it did. The last time someone had passed a hand over his head had been… 

Parvati’s hand passed up an invisible part in his hair and down the back of his head. When Dimitri looked up again, she smiled. Then she looked at Dedue and said, “Come.”

In her bedroom was a bed, a bedside table, and a shrine. In the shrine were a collection of golden statues adorned in necklaces of flowers — other gods of the Hinduscuri faith.  

Dedue looked to the professor. He was asking for something. For permission. Dimitri had never seen this. He’d never seen Dedue ask for something before.

Professor Parvati nodded to Dedue, put down the brass goblet and handed him a silver plate. On the plate were flowers, and in the center, an oil lamp, lit with a cotton wick.

With this, Dedue turned to the Hinduscuri gods, and then, Dedue sang.


When Dedue’s hymns came to an end, he sank to his knees and, in an act Dimitri had seen in neither church nor the constituents who bowed before his father the King, Dedue brought his hands and the crown of his head down to the ground, supplicating entirely to the shrine of gods. 

The Prince stepped back. It felt inappropriate to be present here. Professor Parvati apparently felt the same. She jerked her head towards the door and led him out, then closed the door behind them. 

This form of worship…thought Dimitri. It is so whole-bodied and…intimate.

The professor cleared her throat. He realized he had been standing in the middle of her quarters, seeing nothing while seemingly staring at the professor. She had taken a spot next to the bookcase. 

“Oh! Sorry, Professor.”

She tsked. “Don’t you apologize. I’m sorry there is not much to see here.” 

Oh no, thought the Prince. She was about to do that thing Ashe was always doing. 

He saw the dispirited look she cast her apartment as her eyes wandered from the table to the chairs to the carpet to the curtains. “I’m a little embarrassed now. Almost everything I own…it can all fit into one apartment.” She looked his way. “To you, who owns a castle.”

Dimitri’s heart fell. It was always like this with Ashe. Always pushing him away. The Prince didn’t hear her apologizing to Dedue. She was happy to bring him here, had even pulled him to the shrine but he wrist. She welcomed him. But when it came to Dimitri, these very same people, vibrant and accomplished people who should be proud in their own right, all that eagerness, the delighted smiles, would fade away. They turned to shame, turned to unconscious defensiveness, turned to apologies. The Prince’s very existence was a sudden burden to them. They couldn’t welcome him. 

The most infuriating part of all: it didn’t matter what he had to say. They couldn’t hear him over past the shadow of his stature. He already knew what the professor would say when he protested, “Please, Professor, everything in your apartment I find fascinating.”

Her words were cold. “You don’t have to do that, Your Highness.”

And there it was. Exactly as he expected. His appeal looked insincere, and it hurt her pride more to hear pity…even if that was not what he had meant.

He looked at the bookcase beside her. There weren’t many books in it, but what drew his attention was a glass case with a black, velvet bust. A gold necklace and a pair of gold, fan earrings were on display.

“These are from Orientation,” he said, “are they not?”

She nodded. “My mother’s.” Again, she became unforthcoming. 

“What was she like?” asked Prince Dimitri. 

“Strict. And scary.” A pause. “Not easy to impress.”

He studied the way the light chased around the rim of the necklace, waiting for more from Parvati.

“She was supposed to see me wearing it at my doctoral graduation. But…clearly…” A big sigh. “That never happened.”

The Prince could feel the floorboards creak as the professor shifted weight, her braid skimming his shoulder as she stared at the earrings. 

“I just wanted to make her proud.” 

It was a whisper. The Prince drew in a breath to hear it. He could see her throat bob when she swallowed. She took in a deep breath and sighed, then moved away, her braid skimming back past his shoulder again. She stopped at the painting that had captured Dedue half an hour ago.

“That is what I should have said,” said Dimitri.

She looked at him inquisitively.

“When you asked why I wanted you to be there…at the Mock Battle.” His throat ran dry. “I wanted you to be…proud.”

Something changed behind her eyes right then, but the bedroom door creaked open and she turned away, looked over her shoulder. 

She said, “Dedue! …How do you feel?”

Heavy footfalls. The sound of throat clearing. Hesitation. “It has been years.”

She nodded, carefully avoiding Dimitri’s eyes. “It must have been. If you ever need to confer with the gods again, Dedue — ” It stung the way the professor specified him, the way she looked past Dimitri to address him. “ — You can always come back here.”

“I — ” Dedue had not been anticipating this. “Thank you.”

Dimitri was glad he was not facing Dedue. It made it easier to mask the flash of envy. It was not something Dedue deserved.

And now the professor was looking at him, Dimitri knew it. She looked back at the painting, back at the Prince tentatively, then said, “You know…my mother tried to teach me how to use this.” She looked over her shoulder to consult Dedue about something. “The trishul…Dedue, how do you say this…?”

“A trident,” Dedue translated. 

The Prince looked at where the professor was pointing. In the painting, what the Hinduscuri God of Destruction was holding — a trident. He stared wide-eyed at Parvati. “Your mother taught you to — use a weapon?”

Tried,” she tsked, and crossed her arms, smiling big as she explained to them, “Ma was the strong one, Baba was soft and sweet, and I was a total wuss. If Ma’s trident so much as connected, if it even tapped me by accident, I would run to my father, crying.” She chuckled and shook her head. “My father doted on me. I was absolutely spoiled. And if I was crying, he would also be. I’d run and crawl into his arms, and he would hold me and he would shield me from my mother.”

“Oh, did he?” The Prince laughed and exchanged a glance with Dedue.

The professor nodded. “Ma would complain that it was all his fault I wasn’t learning.”

“It was,” Dedue interjected.

“She would say, Like father, like daughter! Like it was an insult. Which was just fine by us.” The professor gave an unrepentant shrug. She raised an eyebrow at Dedue as he went on smiling and shaking his head. “Well, anyway, at some point, she said she was starting to feel guilty, making both of us cry. It made her feel like the bad guy. And thus, she resigned to protect us forever.”

Mm-mm.” Dedue started vehemently shaking his head. 

“It’s a funny story, Dedue. Stop shaking your head.” The professor stuck out her tongue. Then she turned to the Prince with such a forceful “So anyway!” the Prince started laughing. “So what I was saying was…my mother was strong. She was the tough one. And she told me, If you can’t fight, then run. Run like hell, Parvati.

“So you are good at running?” asked Dedue.

“Oh gods, no!” The professor’s face twisted like she was offended. “I can’t risk ruining my academic figure!” She patted her belly like a belly drum.

At this point, Dedue just crossed his arms and put a hand over his face as the Prince collapsed into laughter again. 

“This was already in grave danger once,” she added, patting affectionately at her belly, “when Randolph heard about my mother.”

The Prince perked up. “The Commander?”

Ooooooh,” said the professor with a tantalized shudder. “Sounds so cool when you say it that way. No, no, no, can’t be letting him get the wrong idea of who was in charge in this relationship.” She leaned in to let them know just how horrible the Commander had been. “He tried to train me.”

The Prince and his vassal exchanged a glance, waiting to hear how this went badly. 

“He tried to get me to run,” she said, “work on my stamina, after I, uh, disabused him, of the notion of training me. I thought he would get the lesson if I told him about this. He came out with a completely different moral to the story, and put me on a strict regimen. Fight or flight, Parvati, you have to pick one,” she said in what the Prince assumed was a mock of the Commander’s voice. “Ugh,” said the professor. “I hate sweating. Cruel and unusual punishment, I tell you.”

Dedue went back to shaking his head.

“What?” said the professor, defensive again. “You think I can outrun you?”

“Me?” said Dedue.

“If I was being run down by any of the OA students — like you — or him!” She indicated the two of them. “Look at my stubby legs. You think I’m gonna outrun you flagpoles?”

“You can try!” said Dimitri.

“No, I think not,” she shrugged. “I’m just gonna die.”

The Prince was aghast at her nonchalance. “You can’t just give up, Professor!”

“No, but I can do the calculations, and I know it: I would die.”

Eff,” said Dedue.

The Prince and the professor looked his way.

“You get an F for effort,” Dedue said.

Parvati’s mouth dropped wide open. She barked half a laugh, then countered, “Well, too bad! Because you need two of those to spell effort!”

“Then you get two of them,” Dedue matched her. “One for each leg.”

The Prince burst into laughter as the professor grinned. “Oh I see. You’re a funny guy,” she said.

“Only in your presence, Professor.” The Prince grinned. “He does this with no one else.”

“Sass bucket,” she hissed at him. Dedue stared back in challenge, still smiling. 

So it was, the three of them basking in what was becoming regular, a familiarity. Outside, a dog barked. Downstairs, they could hear Alois coughing. The Prince glanced towards the window in concern. 

Parvati cleared her throat. “Um.”

The Prince and Dedue exchanged glances again. It looked like she had something to say.

“Look, Your Highness,” she said. She paused, then she added, “And Dedue.” She looked from one to the next as she went on. “I know I didn’t come to the Mock Battle yesterday, but… I don’t need to see you wielding a sword or a lance to be proud of you.” 

Dedue glanced at the Prince, trying to parse where this was coming from. Dimitri didn’t look at him.

“Pointy sticks do not make men,” said Parvati, “and that’s not what strikes my interest in you.” She crossed her arms and put a hand on her chin. “When it comes to the hands you’ve been dealt, the world has been absolute shit.” 

The Prince blinked, startled at her sudden profanity. 

“You two were in especially vulnerable positions…to become bitter, angry, hateful, and mistrustful individuals…and yet somehow…you’re the opposite.” It seemed like the professor, at this point, was talking to herself. “I just don’t get it. How could you be…?”

“We had each other,” said Dedue. 

“And sometimes, only each other,” the Prince nodded, feeling a fresh flush of relief, of gratitude, as he met Dedue’s eyes.

“And that’s all you needed?” The professor looked from one to the other. When she saw the frown on Dimitri’s face, she waved a dismissive hand. “No, no, no, of course not. You needed more. You need so much more. But…” She looked them in the eyes. “I don’t think you give yourselves enough credit. It speaks to the good natures you have, so strong, at your center, at your core.”

The Prince opened his mouth and closed it, a bloom of happiness overtaking him. 

“That you could go uncorrupted, regardless of what’s befallen you…” Parvati smiled. “That’s what makes me proud of you, Prince Dimitri, Dedue. You haven’t lost yourselves.”

Prince Dimitri could feel himself getting red. He did not know what to say. 

On this rare occasion, Dedue spoke for both of them. “Thank you…Professor.” 

She nodded. “Well, then, I think it’s time you get going. Your House Leader Cape is — ” She lifted a hand towards the table.

“Oh yes.” Dimitri turned to retrieve it from the chair. He wondered briefly why the bird cage on the table was empty, then said, “I did not realize you took an interest in fortune telling.” There was a spread of Morfisine divination cards beside the bird cage.

Professor Parvati made some affirmative noise. “I don’t do them myself, but I don’t decline them. That spread was done by Dorothea.”

“Dorothea was here?” asked Dedue.

Prince Dimitri wasn’t listening. His eyes had landed on something else. Beside the spread of tarot cards was a half-folded letter. He could just make the last few lines.

I know there are a lot of Faerghusi there, read Prince Dimitri. I know you are afraid.

“It was a bad spread,” said Professor Parvati. “I had asked her, what is the most important thing for me to note? Dorothea said, Ashes, ashes, ashes.

Whatever else the Professor Parvati had to say, the prince could hear no more, because the next lines read, If I hear one thing about you being mistreated there, I will take you back to Enbarr. I promise.

The letter was signed: Randolph von Bergliez.


The words of the Adrestian Commander buzzed in Prince Dimitri’s head as he re-entered his room. His heart rate had been elevated from the moment he had read those words. His body swung into high alert. Should anyone even think to charge him, he was ready — to strike, to counter, with such full force, the likes of which nobody had seen except when he was at his peak performance. He could feel the blood screaming through his veins, powering his arms, strong and limber. It filled him with a burgeoning brute force he could hardly hold in, contained only by a delicate and highly burstable wrapper of skin.

So this is Randolph, thought the Prince, replaying his words again. They circled his mind as he walked to the closet. 

I know there are a lot of Faerghusi there. 

I know you are afraid. 

Dimitri opened the wardrobe and plucked a hanger out on which to lay his cape to dry. 

If I hear one thing about you being mistreated there, I will take you back to Enbarr. 

I promise.

I don’t think you will, Randolph, thought Dimitri as he slapped shut the wardrobe door. The wardrobe rattled. By the time he got to his desk to take his gloves off, he had already forgotten why he was holding an empty hanger in his hands. A hanger that was broken. 

He couldn't afford to lose this professor. She knew what had happened to his parents, and he still hadn’t solved the riddle to would unlock the answer yet.  He couldn’t lose her. Not yet.

I’m not going to lose her! thought Dimitri, and tossed the hanger into the waste bin, broken.

Chapter 31: Arrival

Notes:

Author’s Notes TLDR: It’s been a while and so why not give you both a new chapter and a new scene? Go back to the previous chapter to see a newly added ending scene first! 


The Rest of the Author’s Notes: AAAAAAAH THERE IS JUST!!! SO. MUCH. TO SAY.

First of all I’m buying a house. In case you’re wondering why you haven’t heard from me in a while, that’s why.

Second of all, YOU PEOPLE HOLY CRAP. Not only did the last chapter too break all records with a ground-breaking 540 hits, but the story shot straight past 6000 and is about to crest 6100! I — don’t — WHAT?!? 😍

Thank you to ALL of your readers out there for making this story bigger than it’s ever been! A very SPECIAL thanks especially to DGRTDB  and  PadmaLily ! You may not have seen me add a thank you in the previous chapter’s Author’s Notes because I had to add those retroactively, but, I mentioned I have something special for you and we are finally at that chapter!

Also. I’m gonna have to have a fan girl moment. The timing could not have been better. I am so excited to announce that  Lilytune / PadmaLily has made a beautiful Fire Emblem Three Houses-style Parvati Expression Sheet! Not only that, I got to print some copies of her art and personally got them autographed!!! I got to meet her in person! We found out we were at the same work conference a few weeks ago. WHAT IS LIFE. 🤩 🥳 🤩 Thank you thank you thank you, I don’t even know what to do with this FATE! Lilytune—PadmaLily—this is going to be one of the first things that goes up in my new writing studio when I have it! SQUEEE!!!

(Internal squealing) Thank you!!!


Okay, for everybody else now… This chapter should be fun.

Chapter Text

The day Commander Randolph arrived at Garreg Mach Monastery, the sun beat down hard. The seasons have changed and the vendors hawk vegetables now, and Randolph found a his back slightly slick with sweat underneath the civilian clothes he had opted to wear today. It had been three days’ hard ride to ascend the mountains, trading horses in for fresh horse thrice at courier stations, followed by the deepest slumber at the St. Cichol Inn. Turning in his Imperial armor at the inn desk this morning for their cleaning service and delivery service up to Parvati’s apartment, he had lain in a tub of near hot water (the inn staff women were trying to check him out),scrubbed clean his supple body down to the nails, and dabbed himself with the Zeldegard cologne he knew was Parvati’s weakness. (His heart rate had increased just thinking what it would do to her.)

Now his boots crunched over rocks and pebbles and wood chips all around the campus—ah, there is someone sweeping these off the monastery footpaths—as Randolph wandered the campus, taking stock of it first before heading straight in to seeking his Miss Lovely. 

His liege the Imperial Princess was here. So was the Faerghusi Prince. And so was Parvati’s second father. He wanted to get his bearings before everything began.  

Bring back an assessment of all of the potential and skills of the Golden Deer and the Blue Lions, Ladislava had commanded him, for the Imperial Army always had to be at the ready to fend off their Alliance or Faerghusi nemeses. This was a chance, she said, to identify who would be a threat and what they were capable of, as well as to check in on the Black Eagles that would become the future of Adrestia. The Adrestian Imperial Princess, what was his impression? How much hand-holding will the army have to for the Eagles here? Ladislava wanted a report on everything.

Students milled around the gardens, chatting and shouting raucously. On courtyard tables, they left their textbooks and exercises forlorn beside empty teacups. At one point, Randolph heard the chirping laughter of that little green-haired girl, the Viceroy’s sister. She reprimanded who Randolph recalled to be the punny knight, who promptly exploded into laughter. Randolph couldn’t remember their names, but slipped into some hedges before either could notice him. This place certainly seemed to have a heartening atmosphere; the kids were having fun. Perhaps Parvati would be enjoying herself if it weren’t for…

Randolph arrived at the Entrance Hall. This was where he had given Parvati the last kiss, before the bells overhead exploded, heralding the Prince of Faerghus. The consternation that had consumed Randolph for the last three days resumed its place in his stomach again. I told her not to talk to him. What happened?

He entered the main building of the monastery. Up to the audience chamber, then down the Faculty Hall, and then a shock: Professor Parvati’s office was locked. She never locked her office when she was working. Did she get sick? Had she not come in? 

“Ah! Randolph!” 

Randolph turned around. It was Professor Hanneman. He had chanced upon the Commander looking dumbfounded with a hand on the door handle. 

“Parvati is teaching a class now,” Hanneman explained. He gave swift directions to her Agarthan Technology class and said, “I would walk you there myself, but I have to meet with Seteth. We will talk later!”

Randolph nodded and thanked him. “Give the Viceroy my regards,” he requested, “and let him know I will be there to greet him soon.”

Then a left at the end of the Faculty Hall, a left around the corner, and Randolph found himself walking to the door at the end of the hall beset suddenly with anticipation and great unease. But there was Parvati’s voice, the words indistinct but the tone rolling across the floor. 

His unease fell away as her voice got louder, until finally, he got a glimpse of her. She was facing away from him, in her hands a set of papers she was pointing with at the blackboard. The Brigidese student with the tattoo upon one cheek was looking over her shoulder to the professor for guidance.

Parvati was saying, “Thank you, Petra. Now, everyone, take a test and pass the rest. You know how this works.” The stack of papers split in two within her hands and were handed to the students closest to her. The students sat in two lines of desks running from blackboard to door, and began passing the papers.

Randolph had time to look at nothing else before Parvati turned, and, seeing him, stopped talking mid-sentence. And then the students, too, turned one by one to look at him.

He ducked into the hallway and out of the line of sight as her voice carried out, astounded. “Randolph?” Her hurtling footsteps brought a smile to his face, and then there she was, at the mouth of the doors, breathing hard and happy to see him.

“I—didn’t want to disturb your class,” he stammered. “But I wanted to see you.”

It was like being tackled by a dog that didn’t know its own size, the way she came at him. There was a chuckle somewhere in between the kisses. The world ceased to exist as he fell into her arms and surrendered to that familiar pressure, the squeeze. Randolph dug his nose into her neck and drew in a breath, filling his entire being with the scent of the coconut oil in her hair. 

“You’re back!” she breathed.

He nodded. “I am.” His voice was muffled against her neck. 

Somebody cleared their throat behind them. 

Parvati jumped out of Randolph’s arms and squeaked. “Jeralt!”

The man looked severely from Parvati to Randolph. “You’ll want to be a bit more careful than this. You don’t want to be caught by Seteth.”

Parvati said, “N-Not at all!” 

Jeralt nodded calmly. “It will look like you are neglecting your class.”

“Th-They’re—taking a test,” said Parvati. “I just have to proctor them.”

Randolph could not believe it. Jeralt? This was the Jeralt? No way. There was no way

“Well, go give them the test,” said Jeralt, “after you fix your lipstick.” 

“Eep! Yes! Sorry! Yes!”

He turned to Randolph. “You too.” 

Randolph nodded mutely, then watched with Parvati, their mouths dropped open, as the Blade Breaker walked away. They heard him chuckle as he turned the corner: “Cute kids.” 

For a moment, the two remained frozen in place. Then Randolph felt something moist and damp and nice-smelling attacking his face. Parvati wiped her Lilytune Orange lipstick off his mouth with a makeup wipe. It felt too much like a mother applying a bib to her child, so he caught her hand by the wrist. 

He said, “Stop.” There was a pause. “Was that the Jeralt?”


Dorothea mouthed a big WOW! to Hilda across from her as the professor chased after the unexpected visitor, into the hallway. The rest of the class, too, broke out into whispers, suddenly alive and animated and stirring. 

“Was that Commander Randolph?” said one of the Blue Lions. 

“He can be my commander,” noted Dorothea. 

Hilda returned a knowing smile.

Dorothea couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard Prince Dimitri give a dismissive “Hmph!” beside her. 

She wasn’t sure though, because it was hard to hear over Lysithea, who said, “Oh please. He’s not that good-looking.”

Hilda gave her an incredulous look. “Do you even have eyes?”

Claude, next to Hilda, said, “I do. I saw everything, and I want to see more.” 

Which brought onto Lysithea’s face an outraged, disgusted expression. 

“So that’s him, hmm?” said Dorothea, enjoying how everyone was turning to her and gauging their reactions. “Randolph von Bergliez. The professor’s arm candy?”

“More like eye-candy,” Hilda proffered.

“Or more like candy-candy—” Claude proffered.

Claude.” It took one stern word from Lady Edelgard to make him silent. 

“Dorothea,” said Dimitri. 

Dorothea glanced his way, startled by his berating tone. Then she realized he was simply waiting for her to pass the tests. 

“Sorry!” she said, handing them over to him. She gave him a wink, but he simply ignored it and passed the tests on to Leonie. Too bad. He usually blushed and looked away when she did that.  

There was a moment of silence and scribbling as everyone started the tests. It didn’t last long. Hilda, bored, leaned back in her chair and whispered to Claude, “It’s awfully quiet over there. What do you think they’re doing?”

Claude mimed exaggerated kissing motions into his hands, eliciting a wave of chuckles. 

It seemed to strike a nerve. The Prince was severe in his response. “Claude! Be silent. Everybody, get back to work.” 

Lysithea chimed in an appreciative “Finally!”

Dorothea watched the Golden Deer House Leader do the act-so-surprised bit with anyone who met his eyes. “I wasn’t even saying anything.” 

And then the Prince met his eyes and Claude dropped his own back to his test and became very, very engrossed. 

Dorothea studied the Prince out of the corner of her eye. He seemed oddly irritated. And while he told everyone else to get back to the test, his quill wasn’t moving. That was because—

“Oh,” said Dorothea, taking out her rose-stitched pouch full of school items. “Your quill is broken. You can use one of mine.” She tried another wink.

“Thank you,” he said, brusk. Not even a look. Fine then. 

The silence shattered again. Way at the front of class, Caspar consulted Ferdinand. “Von Bergliez? Then he must be my step-uncle!” Panic. “Wait, is Professor Parvati my step-aunt?”

The whole class could see that Ferdinand did not know what to say to him. 

From the other side of the room, Lindhardt: “Caspar, you dumbass.”

“Linhardt! You have to help me with math from now on!”

“Pass.”

“Some friend you are!” 

At which point, the professor, with the Commander in tow, came giggling in. 

Commander Randolph whispered behind her, “Are you serious? That was the Blade Breaker?”

Leonie piped up. “Yes!

“Ugh!” cried Lysithea. “Honestly! I can’t do my test with everybody talking here!”

The professor, with no context of what had been happening in the classroom, chirped in. “Oops! Sorry! Everybody gets ten more minutes!” 

She was met with a round of students hissing victorious yeses.

In all honesty, though, most everybody was flying through the test. The Ancient Technology tests were much easier than the professor’s math exams, and Dorothea was fairly certain everyone had already plowed through more than half of it by now. In fact, she was certain that now, nobody was paying any attention to the test. She could almost see their ears stretch to hear beyond the professor’s withheld tittering. 

Professor Parvati and Commander Randolph had leaned their rumps against her desk, and sat side by side with their arms touching, as they monitored the students. The commander had his arms crossed and he was smiling, and would occasionally lean his head forward so Professor Parvati could whisper into his ear. And then he would look at a different student and chuckle. Oh, the professor was definitely talking about them. 

How unfortunate that it was Ferdinand up front at that corner. He was the one person Dorothea would not ask him for any juicy morsels. 

Dorothea’s heart jumped when Randolph’s eyes connected with hers. His hair was sandy in the artificial light, and his eyes dark and deep. The red Adrestian cape flowed out over his back  and, though he had on no armor, he had a black belt fitted with two daggers over his hips. The red and black tunic with golden latticework hugged his body alluringly.    

Of course Lysithea was first up to hand the professor her test. Randolph leaned over Parvati’s shoulder to glance at it, and plucked it back out of her fingers and held it out to Lysithea. “You should take another look at number eight.” 

Lysithea, flustered, looked at Professor Parvati, who said, “Today’s the day you got lucky, kid.”

Lysithea took her test back to her desk next to Caspar, entirely red in the face. 

Caspar decided to take a shot as well. “Uncle! Psst! Think you can take a look at my eight?”

The Commander snorted. “Is that the one?” he asked Parvati. 

Parvati nodded. “That’s the one.” 

The class paused to watch the Commander stroll over to Caspar. He looked at the test over Caspar’s shoulder, and maintained a tremendous poker face. 

“Hey, no nepotism,” the professor called over. 

The Commander shook his head. “Don’t worry.” And since the class already knew how Caspar’s grades tended to be, it was clear Commander Randolph was overwhelmed. Helping Caspar with one answer not going to be enough. And so, he turned to his step-nephew and said, “I have heard of your other strong suits. It’s okay.”

The class erupted into laughter. 


Twenty-five minutes later, most of the class had emptied out. Professor Parvati wasn’t the babysitting type. Be it tests or classwork, when a student finished, she freed them into the wild.  Dorothea did not want to be freed into the wild. She wanted to stick around and talk to the Commander. And the professor, of course. Certainly…

But it was starting to get awkward. Prince Dimitri was still working on his test to her right. Dedue, who had completed his test, resumed his seat to the left of Dorothea to await the Prince. Every other student had left. Which meant Dorothea had nothing to do but to fiddle with her thumbs while she tried to wait oh-so-politely for the Prince to finish before she struck up a conversation and disturbed the peace. She knew that part of being a social butterfly and getting what she wanted just plain took a higher tolerance for awkwardness, but she was almost certain this was just plain asking too much. 

Then she realized the Prince’s quill wasn’t moving. Why? Because had broken her quill as well! 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said, seeing she had noticed. 

She raised a brow. “Okay. But I get to pick the quill.” 

He blinked, then nodded. “Of course you will.” 

Ha! thought Dorothea, taking out of her pouch another quill. She dropped it onto his test. “And later on, you’ll return this to me as well.”

The Prince looked surprised she would trust him with another quill. It was here that Dorothea realized in an instant: this Prince was an oblivious dope. 

Well, Dorothea didn’t get to talk to the Commander, but she supposed she could settle. 

She accidentally caught Dedue’s eye as she packed her things. Dorothea saw his expression. Dedue knew what she was doing. The Prince was going to take Dorothea out on a date, whether the Prince himself knew it or not. So she winked at Dedue a silent communication: You better keep my secret! 

Dedue merely shook his head. 

Feeling victorious, Dorothea submitted her test to Professor Parvati and headed out. 


When Parvati announces she is going to the bathroom, Commander Randolph tells her, “I’ll be right here.” 

It wins him a peck on the lips. She smiles at Dedue as she strolls to the door and passes a curious to the prince’s back before she goes. It is clear she too is wondering why the prince is taking this long today.

Dedue finds out why. The moment she leaves, the room shifts polarity. If only Dedue had recognized it.

The prince is collecting his papers now. Dedue shifts, rises up, offers to drop off for him the test, but His Highness moves Dedue’s hand aside wordlessly. Prince Dimitri rises from his seat and saunters over to the commander.

Commander Randolph rises to his feet and gives a deep, formal, Imperial bow as the prince approaches. “Your Highness.” 

Dedue approves. Randolph is treating His Highness in the same way he had done the Imperial Princess.

There is a pause from the prince, no doubt experiencing the same surprise Dedue had just experienced. Commander Randolph is shorter than expected. He did not even reach the prince’s shoulder. In fact, he is not much taller than Professor Parvati herself. He has a large reputation preceding him: he was the youngest soldier to achieve Commander rank, at a mere twenty-four. It is a surprise to see such an accomplished soldier is not the biggest, nor the strongest. It begs the question of what had earned him the role. Seeing him now, seeing him in person, seeing him short, made Dedue realize how larger than life he had been in their heads.

“So you are Commander Randolph,” says Prince Dimitri. “The Professor says much about you.”

“Hopefully good things.” The commander smiles. 

“Nothing less,” says the prince. “Though the first time she mentioned you, she was in the middle of considering marrying Mercedes’s cookies. She thought better of it. She thought it might make you angry.” 

Randolph chuckles. “Yes. That would be tragic. It would be a truly sad day if I lost to cookies,” he said, “though not unexpected. She has a penchant for sweet things.” 

Dedue hums with a small smile.

“Oh!” says the Prince. “We haven't had the courtesy to properly introduce ourselves. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.”

The commander nods.

“Of course, at the academy I am simply a student,” says Prince Dimitri. “Her ardent student,” he adds.  

This is an odd inclusion, thinks Dedue, but he does not think too much on it, for the prince introduces him next. 

“This here is Dedue Molinaro. Dedue was born in Duscur, and has been loyally working in my service for the past four years. He's rather taciturn, but once you get to know him, you'll see he's a kind and good-natured young man.”

Randolph turns to Dedue. “She has written great things about you. She is quite delighted to meet you.” He nods congenially. “As am I. Bhalo achish, Devdas?”

Dedue’s eyes widen. It is not just because he has used Dedue’s Duscuri name. The commander has just asked “Are you well?” in Bangala. Not only that, but he wields it with enough comfort to choose to address Dedue using the extremely familiar achish instead of acho. In the way of close village friends, or relatives. In the way of people who knew they belonged to each other. 

Dedue responds the only way his stunned head could think of. In Angrais he says, “I am well.”

The prince looks from one to the next, then clears his throat. “You are slated to teach a weekend combat seminar, I hear?”

“That was the plan I had made with Seteth,” says the commander, “for the Black Eagles.” 

There is a pause. A very pregnant pause.

“I assure you,” says the prince, “the Blue Lions would be too eager to receive your instruction.” His eyes gleamed. “Your reputation precedes you, so we all want to know, what did it take to achieve this? I would quite—savor—a demonstration.” 

This is the moment Dedue realizes belatedly that something is off. 

Randolph’s amber eyes lock with the Prince’s sapphire ones. He accepts the prince’s test. “We shall have to see. I must run it by the Viceroy on whether or not I could be permitted,” he says. “And your…Premier.”

“Wonderful.” 

Dedue glances at his liege. He is unsettled by the smile playing upon His Highness’s face. 

They fall into silence. 

“Ahhhh…I held that in too long!” says Professor Parvati, ambling back into the class. “Oh! Are you finished? And you’ve all introduced yourselves?”

The prince nods, not taking his eyes off of the commander. “We have.” 

“Oooh! Excellent!” says Parvati, sliding in along Randolph’s side and, with both hands, taking his. “Well, then. Randolph. Feed me.” 

The commander starts laughing. “What?”

“I haven’t eaten lunch yet. My tummy is rumbly,” says the professor. She starts to ineffectively tug at him. “Come ooooon! Why aren’t you moving your butt?”

“Okay, okay, okay.” He lets her drag him away. “Until we meet again, Your Highness.”

The prince nods. “Until we meet again.”  

Chapter 32: Optics

Notes:

Hello, everybody! I got the house! And moved!!! Into my first house. With my boyfriend!!! 🥰 ❤️😍 And am in India.

It’s been five back-to-back big life events buffeting me. I’m having to repost this and internet connection is not helping. Hope this works… I’ve been hurting to be back! 

I have lost 10 days of sleep trying to wrestle this chapter and the next. It’s finally done and it’s finally perfect, fitting in everything I wanted from over 10 different versions, so — (struggling wheeze-noises) — I tried my best. 🥹 

Hope you enjoy and look forward to a climactic next chapter!

IMPORTANT NOTE: Last chapter ended one way. This chapter starts with a bit of rewriting that final scene. This is actually a previous ending to the last chapter, but I thought it was a bit too brutal back then… Well 😉 here we go. 

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

[Note: A better ending to the previous chapter]


“So you are Commander Randolph,” said Prince Dimitri. “The Professor says much about you.”

“Does she?” said Commander Randolph. “She has hardly said a thing about you.”

The Prince’s eyes widened. Dedue blinked, trying to process what the Commander had just said.

Randolph continued. “She is not to be blamed, of course. You are the Prince of Faerghus, and she must be careful what she puts down on paper and ink. However…” 

Randolph turned to Dedue, who was now stirring, recognizing he had failed to consider if the Commander was hostile. Dedue had put so much trust in Parvati, it had not occurred… 

Dedue strengthened his resolve. He had just become dangerously complacent. 

Randolph said to Dedue, “She has written about everyone else, and written great things about you, Dedue. She was delighted to meet you.” Randolph nodded congenially now. “As am I. Bhalo achish?”

Dedue was gobsmacked. He had just been asked “Are you well?” in Bangala. The Commander had learned Bangala. Not only that, but he wielded it with enough comfort to choose to address Dedue using the extremely familiar achish instead of acho, in the way of close village friends, or relatives—in the way of people who knew they belonged to each other. 

Dedue was reeling. It was just like the first day he had met the professor. He didn’t know the Commander well enough to determine if he was being kind and genuine, or disrespectful. So while he was scrambling, Dedue said the only words he could: “Bhalo achi.” I am well. It was the right answer, and yet somehow distinctly inadequate.   

Randolph nodded at him. There was, perhaps, even the flicker of a smile. “But for you,” he said, turning to the Prince. “She has not written a single thing about you. Are the things she wants to say only things she cannot write? If so, why?” His eyes drilled into the Prince. “Did something…happen?”

Now there was leverage. Dedue stepped in. “Commander—” 

He was silenced abruptly. “Dedue.” The prince’s jaws were clenched.

This was not good. The look on Prince Dimitri’s face had gone clear past the obligatory nicety smiles, into an impassive face devoid of goodwill and kindness. A face for enemies in battle.

“What happens between the Professor and myself…is our business,” the Prince said. “Who do you think you are?”

Randolph’s brows rose. He chuckled. “Am I supposed to dignify that with a response?”

Dedue panicked. The Prince was drawing a line, but right now, this was the wrong move!

The commander shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, unfortunately. Free advice, Your Highness: when it comes to partners, one’s business is the other’s business as well.”

The prince opened his mouth, but the commander did not wait for him.

“In a good partnership, they will seek from each other advice and comfort, through every travail. Know that, going forward, if you choose to divulge to Parvati any secrets, you had best be comfortable if she shared those with me as well.” 

The Prince furrowed his brows.

“Because I will be a good partner to her, and there will be no secrets between us. This is nothing personal, Your Highness,” said the Commander, shaking his head. “I simply mean to ensure that no one puts Parvati in any…difficult positions.” 

His Highness looked conflicted. Dedue watched the prince out of the corner of his eyes. He had to hand it to the commander—he had a silver tongue. He was very, very good. No wonder he had been promoted to this rank so swiftly. 

“In any case, whatever happened,” said Randolph, “by night’s end, I will know.” At the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, he bowed once more to them. “Prince of Faerghus…well met.” 


“Ahhhh…I held that in too long!” said Parvati, ambling back into the class. “Oh! Are you finished? And you’ve all introduced yourselves?”

She saw the prince nod, not taking his eyes off of Randolph. “We have.”

“Eeeeeexcellent,” said Parvati, sliding in along Randolph’s side. She took his hand with both of hers. “Now. Randolph. Feeeeeed me— 

“Professor, wait.”

Parvati looked at the prince. “What? My tummy is rumbly. You gotta make it quick.”

The commander’s eyes widened at her lack of formality.

“I have heard,” said Prince Dimitri, now addressing the commander, “that you are slated to teach a weekend combat seminar. Is that true?”

Parvati blinked. She did not like where this was going. 

“That is a plan I had made with Seteth,” said Randolph, “for the Black Eagles.”

There was a pause. A very pregnant pause. Parvati thought, Uh oh, because she knew where this was going. 

“I assure you,” said the prince, “the Blue Lions would be too eager to receive your instruction.” The Prince’s sapphire eyes locked with Randolph’s amber ones. “Your reputation precedes you, so we all want to know, what did it take to achieve this? I would quite—savor—a demonstration.”

Randolph accepted. “We shall have to see. I must run it by the Vicer—”

“Absolutely not,” Parvati cut in. “As the Blue Lions Premier: denied.”

The prince shot her a look, but she wasn’t even looking at him. She was looking Randolph. “My partner cannot take a blade to the Prince of Faerghus. Are you high?”

Randolph did not look happy.

“And you,” she turned on Prince Dimitri, “there are people in Faerghus who are looking to roast me on a spit. You chose a Duscuri Adjutant. Don’t open room for international incidents. You have to think optics.”

“He’s seventeen,” Randolph spoke up on automatic.

“And?” said Parvati. “He’s a prince. The world is not forgiving.”

Which, now that she heard herself say that, was harsh.

The prince looked away, red and furious. 

She felt a pang. “Okay,” Parvati relented. “The world may not be forgiving, but I can be.”

The prince looked up, hopeful.

“The answer is still no,” she started, which meant she had instantly lost the prince already, “but…” She glanced at Randolph, “We will find a way for you to learn from Randolph, I promise. Okay?”

Dedue looked relieved. The prince did not.

“Geez. Tough crowd,” she said. “I’m getting the full mom experience today. Just disappointing everyone. Dedue, are you mad?”

“No.”

“Oh okay,” said Parvati. “This one’s the one I like today.”

At which point, Prince Dimitri skirted around her and departed so fast, even Dedue was left behind, standing with them for a few seconds.

Randolph closed his arms around her. “You will make a fine mother,” he said, pulling her in. “I can see it at work already.”

“Says the guy who left me high and dry for eight. Teen. Billion. Years,” said Parvati. But she burst with pleasure, her smile pushed out so wide it rounded her cheeks. She let him pull her in until their noses were touching. 

Dedue cleared his throat, itched his nose, and departed. 

When his footsteps receded into the hallway, Parvati brought a pointer finger up to trace Randolph’s lower lip. “So…where were we?”


The day. Was. Perfect. They went out to a private lunch, then attended the afternoon choir. How rich a life Parvati lived now, daily graced by the talents of not one but two prima donnas. The food at Garreg Mach breached excellence. The gardens were fragrant, immaculate. The people here were supple and strong. Randolph saw everything. 

Wherever they roamed, they roamed hand-in-hand. The commander pulled his lady love into alcoves for a kiss. Whispers erupted before they would go. 

“We’re not supposed to do this!” the professor said, breathlessly. But then his hands would circle her waist and she would sink back into his arms. 

“Let’s keep moving,” he would say, “before we are come upon by Seteth!” 

Imagining the stern viceroy trawling after them made everything more fun.

“Oh Randolph,” Parvati giggled, “you’re acting like we’re sixteen.” She slapped at his arm. “What’s going on? What’s gotten you so bold? You’re not one for bending rules.”

Randolph pinned her against the hedges in the hedge maze. “Do I have to have a reason to want you?” 

He stamped his lips into the crook of her neck. The sounds she made…. 

“You can want me…somewhere…less scandalous,” she said.

That blood rush buzz inside of his head. The one-inch magnetism of lips less than nose-widths apart.

 How he loved feeling her legs. 

“No. I want you now,” he said. “I want you everywhere.”

“Noooo, no no no no no no.” Parvati pushed him off and rearranged her cloak back over her shoulders. “We are going to my apartment. Now. I can’t risk any more strikes with Seteth.”

Randolph frowned. “Any more?”

“Eh heh…” laughed Parvati. “I’ll tell you at home.”


Parvati’s head had hardly cleared when they got to her apartment. What had gotten into Randolph? He had never been so—all of this—when he visited her at the university. Now, here, when surrounded by such impressionable—youngsters—by the Goddess! What was he doing?

But that trouble was a trouble for the future, because Randolph was back onto her now, lifting her off of her feet, putting her back to the wall, hardly letting her out of his hands when she needed to pull the curtains closed. It was still daylight out there! 

“Is it because you’ve been gone so long?” she asked between rounds of love-making. “Is this—all of that compounded?”

He gave her no answers and held her from behind, kissed the nape of her neck. He pulled up the covers and tucked it up to their chins. She could feel his heartbeat in his wrist. 

She demanded from him an answer.

He made some noise, something negatory, then placed a kiss upon the shell of her ear. “Now then, tell me, Parvati. Tell me everything that happened here. I’ve been dying to know.”


“Tell me everything that happened here. I’ve been dying to know.”

Parvati tensed in his arms. Concerning… He squeezed his arms and collected her hands and held her. He kissed a bare shoulder. Trapped in shell of comfort, she stood no chance.

“Where should I start?” asked Parvati.

“From the beginning. From the moment I left off,” said Randolph. “Literally.” He recalled how his departure aligned so strangely with the arrival of the prince.

“Okay,” Parvati whispered. She turned to face him. “Once upon a time…there was a me.” 

The commander smiled into the palm of her hand, and she wove for him a story beyond imagining.

“How did I miss so much?” whispered Randolph at the end, pensive.

Parvati nuzzled her face into his neck. “I don’t know. How did you?” Her voice was low.

There was a hint at something there. She was angry. Randolph looked down and had to dig her out, with many rounds of moving her hair aside. He crooned her name. “Parvati.”

She turned around without saying a thing. 

He spooned her.

Outside, darkness had fallen, and his mind was alive with questions. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“I am going to sleep.” As she was wont to do after a romp.

He kissed her shoulder—“Very well.”—and left to pour himself a hot bath and mull things over.

Investigating the Tragedy, thought Randolph. And this Pact of Pan…he had never heard of the Pact of Pan. Was that simply something he made up? Randolph wondered. Something concocted? 

“You dined with the prince? On the first day?” Randolph had asked Parvati incredulously as she revealed all. “Explain to me—he ‘carried you up the mountain,’ what does this mean?” “Dedue would do what?”

And then the prince chose revenge. Given the choice between revenge and restoring Duscur… Randolph shook his head. He still couldn’t believe it. 

“He said those words to you? He said that, to your face?”

It was no wonder she had told him nothing. What could she possibly have said? It would have been highly inappropriate to have written any of this down. Everything was politics. The students. The Academy. Everything. And despite his efforts, Parvati had not been prepared…

How could she have been? pondered Randolph. Who could have prepared for the Prince of Faerghus?

He sank into the hot bath and leaned his head back, enjoying into the scent of EtherStream Whisky. 

“So…do you intend to help him?” the commander had asked. He was holding his breath.

No,” said Parvati, looking like he had asked her to grow third breast. “Why would I help the prince?”

The correct answer. Randolph nodded. The prince had failed her test, had threatened her, harassed her. There was absolutely nothing Parvati owed him. Not him, or anyone in Faerghus. It set Randolph’s blood burning to think that she’d been pinned mid-flight by him, right when she arrived at the Officer’s Academy…

But Seteth made the prince apologize. Randolph hummed, astounded. Seteth was turning out to be a formidable man. The Viceroy was not much spoken of much, even as a public figure. Like all retainers, he was overshadowed, by the Archbishop in his case. 

But he was fair. He was reliable. What a relief.

Parvati had gone on to discuss her trio of cinnamon rolls, Ashe, Annette and Mercedes, whom she spoke of at length most fondly. As for the rest of the Blue Lions: 

“I think you’ll like Ingrid. Felix is Felix. Sylvain is…Sylvain.” 

Naturally, Randolph needed to know more.

“So, the son of Rodrigue…” he had said after she explained.

Parvati had nodded. 

Randolph sighed. “Such bad luck that he landed in this year…”

Parvati scoffed. “Ha! The bad luck this year was the prince…” 

They devolved into silence. The back of his mind was thinking back to his mission, investigating the Blue Lions and the prince. He was amazed at how much information he could gather about them, just by sleeping with the Premier. 

He felt a moral jolt. 

That. 

Was terrible. 

He tightened his grip, disgusted that he had thought such a thing. 

“He really is sweet, to be fair,” Parvati intoned. 

Randolph frowned, unsure if he understood what she said. “Felix?

Parvati gave him a look. “No.” She turned away again and sighed. “The prince. He is humble, and genuine, and, surprisingly down-to-earth. I would have expected…”

Randolph listened to the gap extend. “You would have expected what?”

“Oh, you know, anger, and malice, and hatred. But he’s…” He could feel Parvati’s lashes skim his forearm as she shifted in bed. “I haven’t seen it… I don’t know. How can he still be so sweet?”

Randolph was quiet. Pulling her closer.

Then Parvati chirped up. “Oh. Did I tell you about that time Flayn almost killed me?”

Now that he had overcome the shock, Randolph found himself laughing as he scrubbed himself. He wasn’t laughing when he had first found out about the flying lessons. His reaction then: “What?” How could he possibly have fathomed that the biggest threat to his lover’s life—would be the boss’s little sister?

Then Parvati told Randolph about the Lysithea incident. How she was forced to Seteth twice in two days, first to declare she was resigning—on the first day!—and second, to be admonished most heavily for discussing a practice marked taboo in the Seirosi faith.

It made Randolph nervous. Parvati had enjoyed an atheistic lenience of the maximum extent in the heart of the Adrestian Empire. But here, she had to tread carefully, and…he was not so sure she would… Perhaps it was a matter of time before she… He heaved a great sigh along the top of the scented bath, creating bubbles. He could not protect her from things she brought down upon herself. Already causing a ruckus…

He stood up. The water was getting cold. He pulled the plug in the bath water, and listened to it drain and groan. He had better tone down his public displays of affection… She couldn’t afford to attract any more of Seteth’s attention. The Commander of the Knights of Seiros had already reprimanded him. Randolph felt his face warm just remembering it. What was he going to tell Ladislava, Bacardi and Laslow? 

“I chanced upon The Bladebreaker.” 

“Wow, what did he say?” 

“…Nothing worth mentioning.” 

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Parvati’s voice in his head expressed it best: “He. Said. Words!!! To me.” 

It made Randolph smile.

His smile was short-lived, for a different set of words were coming back to him now: the words that had forced him out of bed.

“How did I miss so much?”

“I don’t know. How did you?”

Parvati’s words, circling inside his head, like the whirlpool at the bottom of the bathtub, draining out.


The night moved into the wee hours. Parvati was snoring. Randolph could hardly stand how hot it was inside of the blanket. He had slept for a few hours, but something had woken him. 

“I am going to crack open a window,” he said aloud, though Parvati was beyond hearing. He escaped the bed, donned his trousers and remembered, delightedly, the balcony.  

Outside the air was cold. Refreshing. He traced his mother’s favorite constellation. A third of the member stars were swept out of view by a taller building across the greenway, but they winked the same in the cold and the silence. It was good to be out here. It had been four years but, Parvati’s presence could still hood his brain with comfort and intoxication. Out here, he had clarity. 

The wind picked up. Across the greenway, clothes left forgotten in a balcony floated up. Sounds floated up too, from below, though Randolph saw nothing between the trees and walkways. He listened again. Footsteps. That's what he had been hearing. It's what had awoken him. The sound of footsteps did not come from directly below. He looked over. The sound was carried by the wind. 

Something gleamed and caught light at the far corner of the opposing building. Randolph squinted. The yellow gleam moved between the eaves of trees and emerged out from the spring plumage. Someone was patrolling the monastery. He pulled out into the moonlight, unobscured.

The Prince of Faerghus was wandering alone. His cape flowed with the wind. His hair changed color, near silver in moonlight, yolk yellow in lamplight. The prince was slowly ambling down the walkway that led to the Knight’s Hall. Occasionally, he would stop, stare off at the scenic mountain views over the stone rails, and then resume. 

What is he doing out here? Randolph glanced into the apartment, at the clock. 3:30am.

An owl hooted somewhere in the trees. The flurry of wings was not one Randolph turned in time to see. Only the branches swinging from its departure. 

The prince had too had looked up, with no aim, just a thoughtless search. The automatic surveillance of things that made sounds in the night. 

But he found Randolph. 

Randolph cursed and backed away from the balcony railing. It was disturbing to him, how the prince stopped mid-stride. He stared at Randolph. 

It occurred to Randolph to put on a shirt, but made no move when he saw the prince moving. The prince leaned his rump back against the stone railing, crossed his arms and smirked. Like he was making himself comfortable. 

Like he was waiting.

What the hell…thought Randolph. Then a concerning thought sent a flush of heat through his body. The prince had seen him. If he had not known where Parvati lived before, he knew now. Dammit, thought Randolph, his heart accelerating. 

Four flights below, the prince cocked his head at the commander. 

He was waiting for him. 

Randolph re-entered the apartment. In the bedroom, Parvati snored on, a small, high pitch little thing that came at the end of each exhale, like an afterthought. Sitting in the corner of the living room, his armor. 

He put a hand on the bedroom doorknob and hesitated. Listened to the sound of his breath. Parvati’s dark form in the bed, with each breath, rising, descending. And then, he pulled the bedroom door closed.


Next Chapter Preview: 

Prince Dimitri indicated the weapons rack. “Choose your weapon.”

 

Notes:

Thank you to everyone for all of your comments, bookmarks, reads and kudos!  

Look forward to the next chapter coming within the next few weeks! 🤩 I hope I can make it but — it’ll be the ideal cap to 2022! 😍 

Thanks for stickin’ around! 

Chapter 33: The Rook and the Boar

Summary:

The long awaited battle... Happy 2023! Reposting due to recent AO3 glitches.

Chapter Text

High Commander Ladislava, 

Things are worse than I imagined.  

~ Randolph v. B.

When Randolph came out of Faculty Hall, the prince did not wait for him. Randolph frowned. Where was he going? At this time of night, it was too indecent to call out to him. Randolph followed, and realized he was asking the wrong question. 

The question was supposed to be: where was the prince leading him? 

In a slice of light in between buildings, Randolph saw the prince glance over his shoulder. He was making certain Randolph was following him. 

Randolph took control of his breathing and calmed himself. It was dark out here. Unfamiliar territory. He may just have gallivanted this campus with Parvati slung across his arm, but this space was completely unrecognizable in the darkness. A different place. 

Ah. Here was the main building, with the professors’ offices, where the Archbishop held her receptions. There, the dining hall. And, swerving north, chasing after the shadow of the prince, Randolph realized on instinct where the prince meant to take him. 

The training grounds. 

Some thirty paces ahead of him, the prince was opening the door. 

This was bad. Randolph knew he should not be here. He should not step inside.

The commander called out. “Let us not, Prince of Faerghus. You have heard your Premier.”

For a solid six steps, the prince stood upon the threshold, merely staring at him. Then he went inside. 

He’s not listening, thought Randolph, gritting his teeth. He stopped at the doors outside of the training grounds and peered in. 

It was still surprisingly well lit. Perhaps the best lit of all the buildings. The prince was stopped at the far end of the grounds, beside the weapons rack, his hand tracing the hilt of a sword in its numerous rows with his back to Randolph. 

“I am not going to spar you, Your Highness,” said Randolph. 

The prince merely shook his head. “I can’t hear you.” 

Randolph frowned. That had to be patently untrue. Unless he really was hard of hearing. But sound carried just fine in this empty area… 

Randolph gritted his teeth and stepped into the training grounds. “Let us talk, Prince Dimitri,” he said.

The hand that had been tracing the sword holy the prince now placed upon the rack. This wooden weapons rack had four rows was stacked full with swords, bows, lances and axes, some of which weighed 40-90 pounds apiece. 

“Your Highness!” Randolph again called. 

In a mighty show of force, Prince Dimitri shook the weapons rack and filled the room with a mighty clamor. The commander stopped in place, uncertain. Then he heard the prince’s words as the echoes died away. 

“I still can’t hear you.”

Randolph’s mouth dropped open. Did the prince truly do this? This was the equivalent of small children sticking their fingers in their ears and shouting, “La la la!” This was becoming an exercise in patience. 

“What is your qualm?” asked Randolph, trying not to reveal his irritation. 

“What is yours? You were the one who told her not to talk to me first,” said Prince Dimitri. 

Randolph’s eyes widened. Parvati had told him this? Well then…

“That was before we knew you.” Randolph bowed. “I apologize. We were concerned about what your opinion on the Duscuri might be. Surely you cannot fault me for wanting to protect my love.”

Prince Dimitri did not reciprocate. He indicated weapons rack. “Choose your weapon.”

Randolph scoffed. “I will not raise a blade against you, Your Highness. Do you forget your Premier?”

The prince hmphed. “Very well.” From behind that weapons cart, he pulled out another. “No blades, Commander. Will this do?” 

The smaller cart held practice weapons of wood.

Randolph frowned. What is your game here? Prince Dimitri had asked for a demonstration for the Blue Lions. But now, he seemed only to be acting for himself. Was this some sort of punishment? What had he wanted from the beginning? 

Prince Dimitri unclasped the sword from his hip and tossed it aside. Then he selected a wooden spear with a particular sigil. A Brave Lance. 

“I am an axe wielder,” said Randolph. “Would you like to select again?”

“No need,” said the prince, his eyes now alight and smiling. 

Randolph selected a medium axe, something with weight, but not too heavy for speed. He couldn’t give this prince too many openings. The Prince of Faerghus had a Crest—the Crest of Blaiddyd, the crest of literal power. Even the meekest of weapons, in a Blaiddyd’s hands, could deliver a blow that crushed…if the legends of the Crest of Blaiddyd could be believed. 

Randolph believed them. He knew he was no match for strength. 

But there was no replacing experience. 

They assumed positions at the center of the training grounds. 

Randolph said, “It is unclear to me what you think you are doing but…” He smirked. “Let’s see what you can do.”


The Prince of Faerghus came forth with a straightforward jab. That one was an easy miss. Randolph needed only to step aside. But Prince Dimitri had not aimed to land that hit. The moment his jab completed, the sigil on his wooden lance glowed, activating the magical spell that enabled his body to move faster for a follow-up attack. 

You did not come unprepared, thought Randolph, smiling. The prince was using the first jab to test which direction Randolph would dodge—his quickness, his reflexes. Then, with a speed too fast for thought, Prince Dimitri took a second stab at the commander. 

Randolph did a one-handed parry. The lance bounced off his axe, deflected. Then Randolph shot his other hand forward, to catch the deflected lance mid-bounce. He banked on the prince to go with his instincts: to tighten his grip on the lance, in anticipation that Randolph was about to yank it away. 

That was not what happened. 

With the Prince falling for Randolph’s trap and locking the lance in place, Randolph delivered a roundhouse kick to the center of the lance’s shaft, and snapped it in half. 

The prince’s face was overcome by a look of absolute stupefaction. 

The commander chortled. “Your Highness, go home. It’s time to go to bed. Whatever this game is,” said Randolph, “it’s over.” 

“No, it isn’t—” the prince began again, but his words were cut short. The head of his very own lance, snapped off and in Randolph’s hand, came flying back to him. The world lost all coordination between sight and touch and sound. First came sight. In his peripheral vision, the wooden tip of the practice brave lance, slicing the air a hair’s width from Prince Dimitri ear. Then came sound: an ear splitting whistling. Then came touch, the cold smack of a buffeting wind, which blew the Blue Lions cape out completely horizontal behind the Prince with a snap. 

Randolph had just hurled at Dimitri a makeshift javelin.

“Don’t try me,” said the commander.

It wasn’t something Randolph would ever admit to himself, but, it felt good telling the prince to go to his room like a child. He would like to do more of it. 

He could see the prince recalculating. Their exchange had been mere seconds, but that was all Randolph needed to establish himself as a force to be reckoned with. Not only did he cut a duel with a lancer incredibly short, but Randolph had done so without even once swinging his axe! The axe received no more use than a prop. It was a shield: one parry. The rest, he did with a hand and a kick. He’d leveraged his enemy’s instincts and strength against him. 

Commander Randolph did not step onto a battlefield to duel.

He came to annihilate.  

The head of the makeshift javelin planted itself like an arrow into the wall behind the prince. Randolph watched the prince looked over his shoulder at it, wide-eyed, studying. He was coming to terms with how quickly the commander would have dispatched of him, were this a real battlefield. The prince had a lot to learn.

Prince Dimitri turned around, and assumed a new battle stance. “You don’t strike fear in me,” he said. “I do not fear death. I am not done.” He brandished the jagged, splintered end of the Brave Lance and assumed a swordsman’s pose. 

Randolph’s jaw tightened. That would draw blood. Was the prince serious?

Now the  prince said, “I am a swordsman. Your weapon, would you like to reconsider?”

He was making the same mocking reference Randolph had just made to him moments ago, a reference to the weapons triangle: swords bested axes bested lances, which bested swords. Basic combat tricks. 

Randolph returned the prince the same response the Prince had forwarded him: “No need.”

The prince smirked, then lunged. “I’m going to need you to step aside, Commander. I have need of Parvati.”

“That’s Professor to you,” retorted Randolph, parrying. “And she has no interest.”

Dimitri gritted his teeth. “What would you know?” 

The commander ducked the prince’s massive swing. “A tremendous amount, actually.”

Prince Dimitri’s eyes widened. 

“I must insist you stop right now,” said Randolph. “Or at least, don’t involve Parvati!” 

The prince launched a new barrage of attacks, a volley Randolph had to dance and pivot his way out of. He hadn't fully experienced it yet, but Randolph knew he couldn't afford to let his bones take the shock of the prince’s strength. 

Not if he wanted to walk out of here.  

Randolph said, “I saw what this did to Parvati four years ago. The person she had almost become.” He deflected a hit, redirecting over ninety percent of the impact the prince had coming for him. “I won’t let you drag her back into that darkness!”

“By doing what?” asked Prince Dimitri. “By taking her back to Enbarr?”

Randolph’s eyes widened. Then he parried a blow from the prince he had no way of avoiding. 

It was an immense crush. In the same way that an impact to one’s elbow at just the right angle and just the wrong way, could release a network of jarring pulses throughout the rest of the arm, this hit from the Faerghusi prince enacted that same experience through every bone within his body. 

By the Goddess, thought Commander Randolph, coming to understand the strength of a Blaiddyd without even the activation of the Crest. He could not handle taking that hit twice. On a day when the prince was smarter, when the prince had more experience, if the prince could pick up more speed than him, Randolph knew he would stand no chance.

But today was not that day. 

Randolph took the hit, recovered, and sprang back. 

The prince wasn’t done yet. His voice was hoarse. “You can’t take her! I won’t let you!” he said. “Not until I’m done with her!” The swing of the makeshift sword that followed gathered Randolph in a diagonal from his hip up past his breastbone, to his shoulder. If it had been a blade, he would have been sliced diagonally in half. 

But it was not. Instead, with the power of a catapult, Prince Dimitri’s assault launched him across the training grounds. It sent him blasting past the two weapons racks. The weapons racks flipped upwards, upending themselves. Their contents scattered with a tumultuous crash of steel in the wake of a hurricane force wind. 

Behind them, Randolph slammed into the wall near the entrance. 

He could hear the crack of his own skull. 

He blacked out. 

For an instant. 

Something inside was calling him. It was the prince’s own words. 

You can't take her!

I won’t let you!

Not until I’m done with her!

Randolph slid down the wall, landing unevenly amongst the wreckage of the weapons carts. He came to. Coughing, he rose out of a litter of silver and steel. “What did you just say?” 

Shards of bone were exploding inside of him. Everything inside of him was shattering. But he couldn’t feel them. The pain did not come, for there was no anesthesia like fury.

Randolph reached for the first blade his hand could fall upon. “Your Highness…my love is not a pawn upon your chessboard!” He charged. “And if she was, she’s not even on your side!” 

Prince Dimitri barely had time to pick his royal saber off of the floor in time for Randolph’s steel axe to connect. He stumbled. “That’s not true!” he protested. “After all, why do you think she came to Garreg Mach?”

Randolph said, “What?”

“Think about it! Viceroy Seteth invited her to come here five years ago. But she didn’t. She didn’t choose to come until now. Why would that be?”

Randolph frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“It is because this was the year that I arrived!” The prince struck a glancing blow. “The prime witness to the event itself—don’t you think she would want to add me into her investigation?” He struck again.

Randolph completely blocked, astonished. “That’s—That’s not why she came at all!” He returned the advance. “Did she tell you any of that?”

Prince Dimitri took the hit lightly, gritting his teeth.

Randolph pressed forward. "Did she even ask you any questions?”

The prince took a bigger hit, stumbling back.

“Because if not,” said Randolph, “you might be on track to become the King of Faerghus, but you’re already the King of Delusions!”

“Ha!” Dimitri parried and barked, then threw down his royal saber and kicked up into his hand a spear. He smirked. Randolph could hardly recognize that guttural voice to which he descended. “You have no idea…”

Prince Dimitri hunched over. A rune shimmered into existence: the Crest of Blaiddyd. It hung blue, suspended above him. Randolph narrowed his eyes. The prince was powering up his Crest. This was unlike Catherine. When Catherine called upon her Crest, she did so mid-strike, in secret. Prince Dimitri announced its invocation. As he did, his body started rippling. The air around him undulated in visual waves.

Randolph did not know what was happening, but he knew he could not take chances. He had taken two complete hits. Reaching into a rubbery pouch resilient to cutting and shattering under his belt, Randolph pulled out an elixir. This was peak Adrestian standard. Not yet mass-produced, they were slated to augment the full force of the Adrestian Army. These elixirs were so effective, Adrestian healing battalions were starting to express concerns about being sent to the frontlines. Though there were still side effects being tested, the swift restoration powers of this healing item were incomparable.

Randolph was not too proud, and not too precious. He chugged his elixir in one swig, taking advantage of the prince’s immobility as he activated his Crest. The commander started backing away, grimacing. He could still feel pain. This was fine, it wouldn’t take more than half a minute for the healing to take effect. Even then, he would hobble. As long as Randolph hobbled, or pretended to, Prince Dimitri would not know Randolph was medicating himself. 

The prince saw Randolph back away and took in a long, deep breath. “Just because I haven’t told her yet,” said this deeper-voiced Dimitri, “doesn’t mean Parvati won’t want to hear it.”

Randolph set his expression.

“That look on your face,” said the prince. “Did you just get a little nervous?” Prince Dimitri smiled. “I think I just found what makes you tick.”

He swung wide. Randolph threw himself back. It was unbelievable. Though the fatigue was still there, his body was feeling right, feeling normal. His bones, his muscles, his nerves had all recovered enough to avoid the attack! 

Not that the prince has noticed this.

“This isn’t about me!” said Randolph. He took the chance to leap onto Prince Dimitri’s thrust out lance, run up the shaft and leap up and over His Highness. “Suppose Parvati was to help you successfully uncover the truth about this! That will make her dangerous enemies. Do what you will with your own life, but leave Parvati out of this!” 

“She’s been holding out on me,” said the prince, swinging around to face him. “I keep wondering why.”

Randolph regarded the prince and thought, Isn’t it obvious? This is why!

So convinced was Prince Dimitri of his power, the prince indulged in large actions. There isn’t something that she’s hiding, is there?” He swung. He swung. He missed.

Randolph balked at the implication. “No!”

“How are you so certain?”

The commander launched a barrage at him. “I would know!” 

The prince hunkered down. “You would?”

“Yes!” countered Randolph. “Who do you think pulled her away from certain death?” The flat of his blade connected with Dimitri’s spine. “Who do you think knocked her back into her senses?” 

The strength of his blow threw the prince off kilter, but his recovery was immediate. The prince was staring at him, slack-jawed. “You interfered with it?”

Parvati’s voice rang in Randolph’s head: Uh oh.

The prince narrowed his eyes. “Did you get in the way of uncovering the Truth, Commander?”

Randolph started to quickly deflect his hits. 

“She said she was almost there,” said Prince Dimitri, advancing. “Are you meaning to say that we almost had the answer, von Bergliez?”

The prince’s hand shot out in between the spear barrage. “Randolph!

Randolph reached for the hand clutching at his throat. He couldn’t help chuckling as he said to the prince, “You learn quick…” Then promptly got pitched a second time across the grounds.

This time he was ready. Hooking the back of his axe into the prince’s belt, he took the Prince of Faerghus with him. And since Randolph was turning in midair, it was the prince who hit the wall this time, not Randolph. Randolph let go of the axe and let the prince fly, himself landing adeptly on the ground as the prince pummeled into the wall and left on it a crater. 

I would not have survived that, thought Randolph, the blood in his head draining. Then he recalled hearing the crack of his own skull. I was going to die here, he thought numbly as he reassessed the prince. If I didn’t have the elixir… 

Only half an hour ago, he was at Parvati’s place considering if he was going to bring one of his two elixirs. This was not to be a hostile encounter. He meant to make peace with the prince. However…

Sothis damn you! thought Randolph. This kid would not listen. 

How the hell did Parvati deal with him? 

Prince Dimitri was staggering to his feet, something Randolph enjoyed. But the prince was laughing too. A tight staccato. Randolph’s stomach filled with a sense of dread.

Said the prince, “You should give up now, Randolph.”

“Oh?”

“Parvati has already crossed the board.”

Randolph frowned.

“The Black Pawn has come within the purview of the White King.” Prince Dimitri had a hand covering his right eye. His forehead was bleeding. “Don’t you know what happens when a pawn crosses the board, Commander?”

Randolph gripped his axe again.

“She becomes a Queen,” said the prince.

NO!” shouted Randolph, for the first time, advancing in. 

The training grounds echoed with Dimitri’s laughter as he parried. “She is never—coming—back!”

“Don’t get cocky, Your Highness! Solving this mystery—that is not why Parvati is here!”

“It doesn’t need to be. I am going to show her what it means to have true power. I will give her a taste of her dreams. And then, she won’t look back anymore.”

“That’s what you think!” 

The prince gave an easy smile. “I do.”

Of all the ways this kid infuriated Randolph…Randolph loaded up for his biggest swing.

“I will stop now,” said the prince.

Randolph blinked. 

The prince had raised his right hand, had called for a pause. He said, “That’s enough. I have tired of you. Now that I have witnessed your fighting prowess…” He smirked. “You have nothing to teach me, Commander.”

Prince Dimitri dropped the training lance with a clatter right where he stood and turned his back to Randolph.

“Tell the professor that I forgive her. That I don’t need your class.“ The prince went on to add over his shoulder, “I don’t need you. And pretty soon…” He started to walk away. “She won’t need you either.”

He left Randolph in the center of the training grounds, shell-shocked. When the prince left and the door swung closed, Randolph let out a guttural roar.

Chapter 34: Screaming Arrow

Notes:

Hey all! Thank you for your continuing support!

Thank you to maedhroseBranwenSSBMacrossRidesrandomcanbian for all the new Kudos, to Satelesque, DGRTDB, CraftyGal for all of your comments, and to maedhrose and many more for the new bookmarks and subscriptions! 

Special thanks to Yoshistar_Writes for recently leaving near chapter-per-chapter comments. Life things took me away from this project for so long, that recent active reader engagement really pulled me back into it! So thank you!!! Everybody, if you see I’ve been gone for over two months, feel free to leave a comment and check in. I will definitely be cheered! 

Important Note: I need to do a 1-chapter skip because I do not have the headspace to write the next chapter right now. For now, just note: 

  • Parvati did not discover the night battle between Dimitri and Randolph
  • Randolph receives an urgent mission forcing him to depart early 

So the fallout is still a mystery that I’ll reveal later. ;) But for now — let’s plow forward through the FE3H plot! Pedal-hits-the-metal, LES GOOOOOO. 

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It was an open secret at the Officer’s Academy that Parvati had a favorite, and it was Ashe.

It was not something anyone anticipated, least of all these two. After all, Parvati had been forced to be wary of approaching the child. His own father, Lord Lonato, had slapped Ashe clear across the face in public, at the Cathedral, for speaking with the a Duscuri—her. 

Ashe, in the meanwhile, was convinced his father’s interaction with her had put him in her bad books. Parvati had certainly noticed that, while most other students brightened on seeing her pass by, or at least nod near-imperceptibly in the case of Dedue and Hubert, Ashe was suddenly heading in the opposite direction, or fishing for a nonexistent pebble his boot, or—perhaps the most memorable—suddenly declaring to her that he needed to go to the washroom, leaving her quite confused. 

So it was a surprise to Parvati that sometime in the second month, Ashe called out to her. 

He jogged over, eyes shining. “Are you going to the Training Hall?” 

Parvati shook her head. The blackberry bushes lining the student dorms were in bloom, filling the entire west end of the monastery with a beautiful fragrance, so she had started to include the west end in her walks. That meant passing the Training Hall every day.

She said, “I am not going to the Training Hall. Are you?”

“Professor Byleth will be sparring Catherine! You should come and join, just watch it for a few minutes! Who knows when it will happen again!”

“Ah,” said Parvati. “You enjoy. I think I will pass.”

“Are you sure? You’ve never come into the Training Grounds, have you? Watching Catherine would be an amazing first time!”

Parvati shook her head. “The truth is…I’m a pacifist. I don’t support violence. I don’t support war. There has to be other ways, and…” Her expression darkened. “Every call to battle…is a failure of both sides to seek it.”

“Oh,” said Ashe, blinking.

  “I was just supposed to be a mathematics professor,” said Parvati, “and teach Ancient Technology. I wasn’t supposed to be — ” Her voice cut off. Wasn’t supposed to be the one arming you kids, was the rest of what she wanted to say. It was something she had tried not to look at too closely. But her thoughts wandered that way every time, and each time, a knot would form in her stomach.

Parvati gauged Ashe’s reaction, prepared for him to be disappointed. To her surprise, Ashe brightened. “I’m glad to find someone else who feels the same. I too think there should be other ways. If only people would say things, would listen… After all, at the end of the day, whenever there is war, it’s the common folk who bear the brunt.”

Parvati blinked. 

He explained. “You’ve probably heard that I’m adopted.” He told her that he was actually common-born. After Ashe’s commoner parents perished, Ashe had snuck into the Lonato manor to steal things he might sell to support his younger siblings. Ashe became enchanted, however, by a book with wonderful illustrations. Lord Lonato, hearing noises coming from what should have been an empty room, caught the thief red-handed — but instead of punishing Ashe, he took Ashe in, and the rest of his family, and taught Ashe how to read.

Parvati’s jaw dropped open. She asked before she thought to stop herself: “Is he…like that to everyone?”

By which, she meant everyone else. By which, she meant, to people who weren’t from Duscur. 

Ashe understood right away and nodded genuinely. “He was,” he said. “Before Christophe was executed. They were on track to get married that year, Christophe and Radha. He loved Radha. She was a Duscuri classical singer, and dancer, full of grace. He mostly wanted grandchildren.”

Parvati’s lips twitched into a smile. That’s right, thought Parvati. Christophe had a Duscuri lover. And Lord Lonato had been accepting? Parvati started to backtrack, reassessing the man. He had been willing to accept a Duscuri bride into his noble family? For his firstborn? This meant, not only did he not hold the Duscuri in contempt, he had to be supportive. 

Parvati was unprepared for the way her heart wrenched as she realized she had had him all wrong. She had attributed so much of his action in the Cathedral that day to personal prejudice. She had not even considered how much of it was driven by fear. 

Not fear of her. Not fear of Duscur. A fear of other Faerghusi.

Lord Lonato hadn’t been afraid of her. He was afraid of his brethren.

Damn you, Faerghus! Parvati thought, reeling. Sothis damn you!

Ashe’s face blurred before her as a fully formed lump moved into her throat. “P — Professor?” came Ashe’s startled voice.

How could she possibly explain it to him? How enraging it was to realize, to be reminded: she couldn’t see her allies amongst the Faerghusi, if they didn’t feel they could allow themselves to be seen! This world was fucked.

“Professor…”

“Oh, Ashe,” Parvati’s voice came out husky.  She wiped her tears. “That story… Your story… It warms my heart! Oh, that is so delightful!”

“W-Wait, Professor, ” said Ashe, rapidly blinking. “You can’t cry. If you start crying, I’ll start crying.”

This gave Parvati a mirthful laugh. He was a companion crier! 

She held her free hand over her heart. “It’s like something out of a fairy tale! I don’t… I don’t expect people to be good outside of stories.”

His eyes glittered as he cleared his throat. “I’m very lucky,” he said. “I know it. So I work hard to prove myself, every day! I will not waste this opportunity!”

Which of course just brought even more tears to her eyes. What a sweet child. “Ashe,” she said, “I really must apologize.”

“Apologize? For what?”

“It seems I have misjudged…”

“No need for apology,” Ashe said, fervently shaking his head. “Not after… From the way Lord Lonato had treated you, I can’t blame you.”  Then he chuckled. “Actually, I was really afraid of you for a moment.”

“Of me?” said Parvati. “What an amusing notion! I am the one Officer’s Academy faculty who could barely hold up a stick. Who would be afraid of me?”

“Well, I was convinced you hated me! Then you were declared the Blue Lions Premier! When I saw the look on your face, I almost died.”

She laughed because she was horrified. “I’m…sorry?”

“No, don’t be!” Ashe shook his head. He was grinning. “It’s kind of cool, actually. The three of you are so intimidating!”

“Three?”

“You, the Prince and Dedue. You’re always together. It’s not like that with the other House Leaders and professors.”

This again, thought Parvati. She still didn’t know what Ashe meant by the look on her face, but Hanneman had said something to this effect as well: that even before Orientation, she, the Prince and Dedue had started looking like a unit. 

“Seeing that connection…makes me proud of being a Blue Lion! That’s in our House! That connection!” said Ashe. 

“Makes you proud, huh?” Parvati was startled. “Well then, for you, I guess, I’ll have to protect it!” 

What the hell are you saying? thought a tremendous part of herself, wincing internally. Oh great… she thought. He makes you get cheesy. But he had such a clear heart and brilliant smile, she couldn’t help smiling back. She wanted him to never get hurt. She wanted to spread wings around him and protect him. 

“Have fun watching the sparring!” she waved him off as once he yelped about how late he was.

“I will!” he shouted as he ran.

She sighed. I really am turning into a mom, she thought to herself. Though, if she had a kid like Ashe… That brought a smile to her lips. That wouldn’t be a bad thing.


Their bond became stronger throughout the academic year. Since Parvati was required to spend at least one hour with each of her students monthly, she had joined his request to help him cook. He wanted to show her his parents’ most famous recipe. The pheasant roast with berry sauce was amazing. What Ashe wound up slipping in between instructions to gently boil the berries and purée them was something else.

“I really wish I could know,” he said.

Parvati turned to him, scooping the hot berry mix out.

“What Christophe had really done.”

Parvati’s brows popped up.

“They wouldn’t have done it for no reason, right? There must have been something else…”

Ashe was referring to the Church executing Christophe. Ashe had already stated before, there was no way Christophe had been involved in the Tragedy of Duscur. But if anybody overheard what Ashe was now saying… They might think he was implying the Church was lying…was covering up something. 

Lucky for them, they were in the privacy of her apartment.

She told him, “Ashe.”

“Yes?” 

“Never say what you just said on Church grounds. Or to anyone in the Church.”

Ashe’s eyes widened. She had to give credit to him. He was smart enough to realize what she was implying.

She patted his head. “Lucky for you, I work for Seteth, and the Officer’s Academy. Not the Church. Now can you show me that puréeing technique again?”

She was successful. There had been a moment when Ashe’s eyes had widened, and he had seen her as an agent of terror. By distracting him with an ask to correct her puréeing form, she dissipated his panic.

She readjusted her place at the fine mesh sieve and took the wooden spoon back from him, and pressed the berries through sieve, putting her back into it. “In the meanwhile,” she said, “perhaps I can something dig up.”

Ashe almost dropped the sliced pheasant thighs he had just pulled out of the oven. He said nothing then, but the bond that was full of happiness, joy and trust between them grew on to something deeper. 

He would later ask, “Why?” This was in another one-on-one session. This time, he had invited her to witness his archery skills. She had deemed this all right, as it was a hunting skill, and it was the compromise for when she had declined to go hunting with him (“I will be certain to scare all game away”). 

Parvati was quiet for a moment, when he asked. They hadn’t been talking for twenty minutes, so she knew he had been holding it in, that it was the only thing he wanted to say the whole day. 

The answer she gave him was simple. “When my parents died…I needed to know why too.”

Ashe drew back the drawstring and let the arrow scream. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

He nearly screamed her name when Ashe came running her way one day. “I have to go with the Black Eagles!” he begged.

“You what?” asked Parvati. She could feel her heart plummet through the depths of her stomach. He wanted to switch? What had she done?

When Ashe told her the Black Eagles were being deployed to address the Western Church and Lord Lonato, Parvati was engulfed in horror. “What do you mean, ‘address’?”

“He’s right,” said Catherine when Parvati found her in the Knights’ Hall. “There seems to be some kind of insurrection, led by Lord Lonato of Gaspard.” She looked sad when Parvati mentioned Ashe’s bewildered state. “Where is he now?” she asked.

 “He went to the Cathedral, to pray.”

Catherine nodded, taking a seat at one of the sofas in front of the fireplace. Parvati followed her, kneeling beside it instead. It was cold outside, and rainy, so it felt good to Parvati to feel that heat on her face. She took her wet cloak off and held the outside facing the fire so it could get warmed, her insides cold and swirling.

“I fully anticipated the Blue Lions being sent for this instead,” Catherine said to the professor. “It’s in Faerghus. Prince Dimitri should be the one handling this.”

Goosebumps rose across Parvati’s flesh. Dimitri, who was still just a child...and her flock... “Do you think they should be sent to help?” she asked.

Catherine shook her head. “Lady Rhea probably has it in mind to send them somewhere else. They did marvelously, in the Alliance port city of Derdriu. Against pirates.” She took her left gauntlet off and itched that hand, analyzing it as she said, “Huh. I guess the Golden Deer weren’t sent to their own capitol either. It doesn’t matter, then, I guess?”

“What’s wrong?” Parvati asked.

“Just — got a rash,” said Catherine. She put the gauntlet back on.

Parvati suggested going to Manuela to get a cream to take care of the rash, then, feigning innocence, probed. “What is this about? Why would Lord Lonato turn against the Church?”

There was hesitation in Catherine’s voice. “I don’t know.” 

The fire crackled.

“Catherine...what are they going to do to him?”

“Depends on his answers.” The knight wouldn’t look at her.

“But that’s Ashe’s father.” Parvati’s throat cracked as she said the words.

She could still see Ashe’s face glistening as he begged, “Please, Professor, there must be some mistake. Lonato would never raise arms against the church.”

Parvati waited. Surely the knight could say something of comfort? But Catherine remained uncharacteristically silent. Wouldn’t even look at her. She only ground her teeth and looked at her hands.

Parvati’s heart fell. She didn’t know what she was expecting. Nothing more here could be done. She rose to her feet.

“What did you tell him?” asked Catherine.

Parvati felt a a great squeeze in her heart. “That it is too important to not let him go. I’ll talk to Manuela and Byleth, to ensure they take him.”

Catherine nodded.

Then Parvati had an idea. “Catherine! You can do something for me!” 

“What?”

“I want you to go with him.”

The look on Catherine’s face was nothing short of aghast. “You want me to—?”

“Please?” Parvati insisted. “Take care of him. Since I can’t be there.”

Whatever words Catherine wanted to say came out strangled. In the end, she didn’t say anything.

“I am going to him now,” said Parvati, “to the Cathedral. I don’t want him to be alone.”

Catherine looked away and stared into the fire as she listened to Parvati leave. The professor had gone on, not seeing the knight’s eyes grow wide and haunted. 

Catherine stood up. It was time to talk to Seteth.


“You want to what?” It was clear that Seteth could not believe what she said. Catherine repeated her request.

Seteth stood out of his chair and crossed his arms. “What’s gotten into you?” 

Catherine shook her head. 

“You were the one who apprehended him,” stated Seteth. “You were the one who apprehended Christophe. What do you think this is, a guilt trip? Redemption?”

Catherine hung her head. “I can’t explain.”

 Seteth frowned at her. “This is too curious.”

“I suppose it is.” And then Catherine was silent, which was its own cause for alarm. She said, “Seteth. Explain to me something.”

“What is it?”

“Why am I following her?”

When Seteth didn’t understand, Catherine added, “Professor Parvati. You put me and Shamir up to the task. So what am I looking for here?” Catherine put her hands on her hips. “As far as I’ve seen, I’m getting paid to hang out with a friend. Not that I’m complaining!” She put her hands up in the air. “I definitely don’t mind. But... shouldn’t I be doing something important?”

Seteth pressed his lips together. “So this request...about Ashe...has to do with Parvati?”

Catherine nodded. She looked at the globe on his desk. “She makes me rethink the people of Duscur. She makes me rethink a lot of things.”

Seteth put his arms behind his back and thought aloud for a moment. “She is rather popular with the student body, it seems. If she has this effect on you as well...she is exceedingly influential.”

Catherine cocked her head at the tone. “You don’t make it sound very good… Isn’t it a good thing?”

She could see him think it over. He didn’t say yes.

“Come on, Seteth. Give me something to work with. Why are we monitoring a professor of our own? I understand monitoring Byleth and Jeralt, but...Parvati’s one of us,” Catherine declared. “I know it. I can feel it.” She made up her mind. “I trust it.”

Seteth regarded her with a look of surprise, but he said nothing beyond. He only told her that her request was granted. “Just let her know you won’t be here to train the Blue Lions this week.”

Catherine nodded, sighed, and gave him thanks. “Look, at the end of the day, if you think she’s a threat, I’ll follow her. Just…wanted to bring it up: there might be other ways to use my time.”

 Seteth nodded. He said, “Thank you, Catherine. Your time is precious, and this use of you is valuable. I assure it.”

“Great,” said Catherine, heading to the doorway. Her eyes widened when she opened it. “Looks like someone else has come to see you as well, Viceroy.”

Locked in position to knock on his door was Professor Parvati.


What did she hear? How long had she been there? thought Seteth. He knew she wasn’t supposed to have heard anything — Rhea’s magic helped to sound-proof that door...but there was a dark look on Parvati’s face as she approached his table. She took a stand behind the chair and rested her hands on its back. From behind her, Catherine was still looking at him from the door.

The professor, staring at Seteth, said, “Catherine. Please close the door.” Catherine looked at Seteth. Seteth nodded. She nodded back and closed the door.

Professor Parvati was gauging him, almost glowering. She said to him, “Viceroy Seteth... Is it normal to send...kids to kill their fathers here?”

The relief that flooded Seteth like a torrent almost came out of him. He had to hold his composure.

When she saw his expressionless silence, a fear came into her eyes. She said, “That’s not — how I meant it to come out.”

There it is, let’s take advantage of that, thought Seteth. Parvati thought he was angry. She was afraid and off-balance. Affecting the anger she imagined would help keep his composure. He mocked a sigh and took a seat. He said, “Do not assume its regrettable nature is lost on me.”

It was not.

Parvati said, “I thought I came to teach mathematics. I thought I came to teach technology. All this? This wasn’t in the job description.”

Seteth noticed the hitch in her inhale. She had been crying. She traced the Crest of Seiros carved into the back of the chair. “Professor Parvati,” said Seteth, “please take a seat.”

She shook her head. “No need,” she said. “That’s all I came to say to you. I take my leave.” Then she made a startled noise and muttered, “That spread, from Dorothea! It wasn’t ashes, ashes, ashes. It was it’s Ashe, it’s Ashe, it’s Ashe.”

“Pardon?” Seteth said.

Parvati shook her head, bowed and departed.

What was that? Seteth thought as he waited for the door close behind her. Then, he let out a massive sigh of relief.

But her question came back to haunt him. Is it normal to send kids to kill their fathers here?

Seteth dropped his head into his hands and sighed.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! To treat you all for your patience, the next chapter is coming in 1-2 weeks! Ciao for now!

Chapter 35: Sacrifice

Summary:

SURPRISE! I know y'all waited so long for the previous chapter, so I wanted to treat you!

Notes:

And now for a moment of fun!
Plus more story after that.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

OMAKE

WithPatienceComesPeace: Have I got a treat of you! Today I’ll be hosting an interview. Everyone, please join me in welcoming some of our favorite characters onto the stage! 

(Parvati, Dedue and Dimitri enter the stage.)

WPCP: Thank you so much for joining. Please, take a seat.

Parvati: I already sit too much, is it okay if I stand? 

Dimitri: You can stand if you like, but even if we sit, you still won’t be taller than us. 

Parvati: Excuse you, where is this coming from? 

Dedue: He got into the weeds. 

WPCP: ???

Dimitri: DON’T explain it to them. Don’t explain it to them.

Dedue: (shakes his head)

WPCP: AHEM. Anyway. We are excited today because we’ve achieved a great milestone and have reached new heights! 7,000 hits! 500 comments! HOLY COW!

Parvati: Yeah, but, weren’t we supposed to do this 2,000 hits ago?

WPCP: Shut up. 

Dimitri: In any case, it is lovely to see all of your faces out of your cell phone and laptop screens. Thank you to all of you who keeps coming back. I am just happy to be here.

Dedue: I am not. (Receives a light whack from Parvati) But thank you. (Turns to Parvati in a frantic whisper) Why did you put me in the middle? 

WPCP: Um, haha, well! While, uh, Dimitri changes seats with Dedue, shall we get this interview rolling? Let’s start with Parvati. Parvati, what is your favorite Duscuri food? 

Parvati: It’s mocha. Not the coffee drink. It’s a curry made from banana flowers. My grandmothers used to make it for me. 

WPCP: Excellent choice, Parvati. Can you tell the audience what they look like?

Parvati: My grandmothers? 

WPCP: No, the banana flowers.

Parvati: Oh, duh. Well, honestly when you go hunting for them, it’s a violet bulb. And you peel away the petals like an onion. And in between each layer are lines of dozens of teensy to-be bananas tucked in. And that is what you cook, actually. It’s really filling. Like mushrooms. They even have that texture, when chopped up. 

Dedue: I have never had this.

Parvati: I’ll ask them to make you some. 

Dimitri: Didn’t you say one of your grandmothers passed away? 

Parvati: Oh, that’s on my father’s side. These are from my mother’s side.  

Dimitri: Oh wait. But then, you mean, that grandmother? 

Parvati: (snorts) Ha ha ha, yes. I mean that grandmother. Both of them. 

Dimitri: (turns to Dedue) Do you think it’ll be safe? 

WPCP: NEXT QUESTION. Dimitri, shut it, you can’t drop spoilers here! 

Dimitri: Oops, sorry. But—

WPCP: Here’s one for Dedue—

Dimitri: They won’t even see it unless they contact you for the Secret Chapters! 

WPCP: (shushes him) Dedue, how did you get so good at cooking?

Dedue: My mother was a classical dance instructor, so we always had people in our house. When I was little, I would hide in the kitchen. The cooking aunties used to laugh and humor me, but then realized they could put me to good use, so I have been slicing and dicing since I was six.

Parvati: (small chuckle) Wait, that’s sadder than I thought it was.

Dimitri: No it’s not. It’s charming! 

Parvati: (consults the Author Almighty) I thought it was because of his parents.

WPCP: (shrug) Look, I don’t know, we’re finding this out together here. I thought it was because of his parents too.

Dedue: Can we move on?

WPCP: Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry, I won’t make you come onto a stage like this again, Dedue.

Dedue: Good.

WPCP: Next question is for Dimitri! Dimitri, you’re about to get stuck on a deserted island. You can only take your lance and one thing. What is it? 

Dimitri: Dedue. 

Parvati: Tch! He’s not a thing. 

Dimitri: (snaps) You know what I mean.  

Parvati: I do. 

Dimitri: Wait, no. I change my mind. I would take Parvati.

Parvati: What? No!

Dimitri: Parvati would know how to get us off of that place.

Parvati: (shuts her mouth in begrudging agreement)

Dimitri: So it depends on what I’m wanting there. Because if I want to see humanity, I would take Parvati, but if I never want to see humanity again, I would take Dedue.

Dedue: That sounds appealing. 

Parvati: Yeah, but, you seem to be under the impression that we would survive on a deserted island.

Dimitri: Wouldn’t we?

Parvati: You’re a royal prince. All your food has been provided to you. You thought kidney beans are made of kidneys — 

Dedue: To be fair, you were the one that convinced him—

Parvati: And I have ever lived in the city. Which one of us would stop us from accidentally chomping on the poisonous fruit? Do you know how to make makeshift shelters?

Dimitri: N-No, I always ask Ashe for help…

Parvati: Exactly! Now, Dedue, on the other hand, will probably know better how to survive in the jungle. He’d be able to survive on the island, and I could get us off the island. So the two of us would be able to make it. (Turns to WPCP) Put me and Dimitri on the deserted island, we’ll die fast. Put Dedue and Dimitri on an island, they’ll die slow.

Dedue: It’s called living. 

Parvati: But without spices for your cooking.

Dedue: (turns to camera) It’s called dying slowly.

Parvati: So, basically, Dedue is the survival factor.

(General agreement)

Dedue: And Parvati determines whether or not we can escape.

Parvati: Yes.

Dimitri: So what do I do? 

Moment of silence. 

Parvati: You hunt game. You kill things. So we can eat it. 

Dimitri: I can do that! 

Dedue: Eating is pretty important. 

(General agreement)

Dimitri: So if I was on a deserted island, I would take both of them. You can take back the lance. We’ll just make one on the island.

WPCP: My goodness… And there we go. An entire analysis of whether or not any pair in here will reach success! 

Parvati: Depending on what success is.

WPCP: (pushing Parvati off of the stage) Yes yes, we are finishing the interview now. Bye bye everybody! Now back to your regularly scheduled programming! 



Chapter 35
Sacrifice



The morning was red with sunrise. Parvati wrapped her green cloak tightly around her as she cut through the marketplace and out the outer gates of the Monastery. It was a road fifteen feet wide, sticking out from the gates before it dropped sideways into winding switchbacks — perfect for the archers of the monastery to shoot out any competing armies coming up as they simply tried to crest this side of the mountain. It would be such a stupid, suicidal, foolish attempt.

The Black Eagles were huddled outside the gates. It was howling winds out there — why in the world were they being forced to stand out there?

Parvati made some wide ranging arm motions for the students to come back inside, but they pointed at Byleth, who was having her own troubles trying to catch the sleeves she generally refused to wear on her jacket. Hubert helped hold one in place as she stuck her hand through and zipped it.

Parvati gave a big shrug, exaggerated arms included. Ferdinand big-shrugged back at her. Parvati shook her head.

A shadow flashed over her. Petra blended with the cloudless red sky, pitched upon a maroon wyvern.

Manuela was coming up back up from where she had been standing with Byleth. For the first time Parvati ever saw, Manuela was fully clothed, in sparkling teal bloomers and a white overcoat lined with white fur. She looked good. She even had fluffy earmuffs Parvati was sure every student was envious of at this moment.

Manuela shouted something at Parvati. Parvati shrugged at her. The wind was taking Manuela’s words in the other direction.

“WHERE IS ASHE?” asked Parvati.

“WHAAAAAAAT?” said Manuela.

“WHERE’S CATHERINE?”

“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?”

“Durga, help me!” said Parvati, rolling her eyes. She pulled Manuela by the wrist to the other side of the gates.

“AAAAASHE! AAAAAASHE!” said Parvati. 

Said Manuela, “WHERE IS ASS?”

Beside Parvati, the Almyran gatekeeper started laughing.

“Here I am, Professor!” called Ashe, coming up behind. Unlike some of the other students (and Byleth), he was bundled sensibly for the expedition. He stopped in front of Parvati. “What are you doing, Professor? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

That’s what he had asked yesterday evening when she approached him at the pews of the Cathedral. He had been looking up at the giant mural of the Goddess in the ceiling. “I didn’t think you’d come to pray here,” he said.

She told him what she’d already told Seteth, and many people before that. “One of the great things about being Hinduscuri is that I am free to pray to everybody. I like that about my religion. I can pay respect to everything. And...” She pointed at the Goddess. “They become collectibles. Gotta get ‘em all. I haven’t paid respects to the God of Almyra yet...nor to the ones in Brigid. But I will, someday.”

Ashe had chuckled back then. “You’re pretty funny, Professor.”

“It’s nice, life as an international, inter-religious pilgrimage. Why settle for less?” Parvati cocked her head. “Can I take a seat here?”

He scooted over. When she settled in, they were pressed in shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the Goddess.

“There must be a mistake, Professor,” said Ashe. “Lonato would never raise arms against the church. ...At least, he never said anything to me about it,” he said. His voice broke. “Why would Lonato incite such a reckless rebellion?”

Parvati didn’t look his way, because society was stupid and he would be self- conscious if she saw him crying. As if what he was going through wasn’t worthy of it.

What she did instead, however, was she took his hand. She held his hand between both of hers, and she offered him her shoulder. Because that’s what she needed on that night when she found out about her parents. Because there weren’t words in times like these.

He put his head on her shoulder, and she could feel his tears. She didn’t know what he was seeing in the eye of his mind as his body shook with his grief. She didn’t know what he was remembering, but in the end... Details change, but the fear was the same. The indiscriminate despair.

Today he was a sweet summer child. What would he be tomorrow?

He smiled weakly. “Thank you for coming, Professor,” he said, because he hadn’t truly needed to ask why she was here.

Parvati pulled him into a hug and gave him a nice, tight squeeze. She muttered in Bangala, “Live forever, my child.”

“What was that?” he asked. “Sorry, I didn’t — ” 

“A prayer,” she said, stepping back.

Ashe smiled again. This time it reached his eyes.


“You look like you’re sending a son into battle,” Manuela said, coming to stand beside her.

“Am I not?” asked Parvati. “Where’s Catherine?”

Catherine had gone on ahead, apparently, with all the other soldiers and battalions, scouting ahead. Making sure things were safe for the class following. Parvati approved. It looked like Catherine was being serious...

“Take care of him, Manuela,” Parvati said.

Manuela nodded as they looked at the children.

“Also, take care of yourself,” said Parvati, turning to her. “If you don’t come back in one piece...”

“I’ll have you to face when I get back?”

“No, I’ll make Professor Hanneman take care of you!”

That screwed up Manuela’s face. “Hanneman? Why would you suggest such a thing?” A low horn blew into the wind.

“That must be Byleth,” Manuela said. “I have to go.”

Parvati followed her back out of the gate. She stood there longer than expected, the solitary sentinel at the peak of the mountain, as her friends and students streamed away.


It was raining the day the Black Eagles returned. Parvati stood at the crest of the road, Hanneman’s giant black umbrella — borrowed to her — ballooning around her and catching the light patter. The wind was cold around her ears. Shamir had been right. One weekend of summer, and then endless rains. She was shivering by the time Catherine, Manuela and the Black Eagles made it up the mountain. 

“Where is Ashe?” she asked first, as Manuela came first up the crest. Manuela pointed over her shoulder. Ashe was trailing at the very back. He had no umbrella. Nor did the other students, for they all shimmered with the magic cloak Manuela must have been conjuring to shield them from rain and wind. They were walking up the horses they’d dismounted from down the road. 

Parvati held her umbrella out to encompass Manuela. “Is everyone all right?” she asked.

“We all are,” Manuela responded, looking at the students trudging up, “and…no one is.” She pursed her lips. “I am going inside. I want out of the rain.”

When Parvati saw Catherine, the Duscuri professor raised her umbrella, inviting the much taller was Faerghusi knight inside. 

“What happened?” she asked Catherine.

“You already know the answer,” came a response from someone else. Lady Edelgard. She was the first of the students up the mountain.

Parvati shuffled to let Princess Edelgard join under the umbrella as well. Now it was getting a bit tight. Hubert followed her, ever attentive, and though Edelgard dismissed him with a nod, he continued standing outside the umbrella, behind Parvati.

“Everyone was a bit shaken by the militia fighting alongside our enemies,” Lady Edelgard said.

“So, Lord Lonato is…” Parvati started.

“Dead,” said Hubert from behind her. “We passed judgment on him.”

Parvati shivered. They listened to the patter of the rain on the umbrella, and the tinny drops of Catherine’s spaulder, of the one shoulder sticking out. Now that Parvati was looking up at the princess — she had to look up at everybody, she was so short — she noticed that, while Lady Edelgard was mostly dry, the very tips of her were wet and curled into tight curls at her shoulders. Such was the finesse and precision of Manuela’s powers. Where most magicians would create a clumsy bubble a foot out from their object, using up precious magic energy to enclose a larger volume, Manuela had encapsulated Edelgard in a tight wrapper one or two inches out from her body. This wasn’t just the difference between the proficient and the masterful — it was artful. She had done this for all of the students — and she wasn’t even out here anymore to see where the magic wrappers needed to be anymore!

“Who did it?” Parvati asked.

“Professor Byleth,” Edelgard answered. 

Parvati turned to Catherine with a whisper. “You let that happen?”

Catherine frowned. Edelgard rose to her defense. “Lord Lonato and the commoners who allied themselves with Lord Lonato believed they were fighting for a just cause. It was their choice. Even if their enemy was the Goddess herself…it would be disrespectful to consider them simply victims when they died for what they believed in,” Lady Edelgard said.

Parvati looked at her. She had to look up, because even Edelgard was taller than her. “I am quite certain that all one hundred percent of them would rather choose to live with what they believe in than die for it. There should have been another way.”

Edelgard smiled at her with a look of pity. “It's not possible to change the world without sacrifice.”

Parvati tried to quell the spike of anger. “Killing people who disagree with us isn’t sacrifice. That’s lazy.”

The Adrestian princess’s voice and eyes turned to steel. “You misunderstand me, Professor. I do not mean the enemies we kill are the sacrifice. I mean the people I would be commanding — the people Lord Lonato commanded. The people had something they believed in. Dying for the greater good is not a death in vain.”

Parvati’s mouth formed a line, embarrassed. She really had misunderstood the Princess. She muttered an apology. 

Edelgard looked somewhat mollified. After a moment, she said, “Really, I'm just like Lonato. Lord Lonato decided he was willing to pay the price. I, too, will be the sort of ruler who's willing to risk the lives of my citizens in service of a higher cause.”  

Easy to pay a price you’re not paying, Parvati thought. There was so much turbulence encapsulated inside of Parvati, she didn’t know what would come out first. 

What did come out was what needed to come out four years ago. 

“The enemies are your sacrifice, Princess!” Parvati said. Now that she had the eyes of both Edelgard and Catherine — Catherine… — Parvati felt her the words crash to a halt in her throat. 

What she wanted to tell them, what she needed to tell them, what she needed to tell somebody — was that the enemies are the sacrifice! Just like the people of Duscur were the price Faerghus decided to pay for their belief…for the belief that it was the people of Duscur who assassinated their king.

She wanted to tell them that her parents were sacrificed for that belief, for a belief that wasn’t even theirs. She wanted to say, “You tell me, Princess, how your enemies aren’t your sacrifice! Because when you stop seeing the world in red, gold and blue, you will see that we all are human, we all are people, and we all are the sacrifice.”

Parvati bit her tongue and ran her thumb over the little metal notch in the umbrella, the one halfway up the shaft that prevented a closed, retractible umbrella from springing open unintended. She didn’t say any of these things. She wasn’t stupid. If she said anything else, she couldn’t take back anything. 

She was a lowly peon. She couldn’t make an enemy of the future Emperor. 

That didn’t stop Edelgard from becoming her enemy, though. All Edelgard heard from her, and all Catherine and Hubert heard, was, “The enemies are your sacrifice!” And nothing to back it, so Parvati could feel herself look the fool as Edelgard declared to her, “We have no choice but to eliminate those who cling to unreasonable ideas of justice.”

“What justice do you speak of? Do you know what they wanted?” Parvati asked. 

“Parvati — ” Catherine tried intercepting her. 

Lady Edelgard said, “They would not say.”

“Then how can you be sure you were on the side of justice?”

“Because of this!” Catherine countered. She was suddenly all sharp and angry motions. Her metal knuckles clanged against the bright shaft of the umbrella as she did it. She yanked a scroll out of a brass scroll holder and snapped it flat for Parvati. “Go ahead. Read it.” 

Parvati glanced down at the scroll held out to her, then Edelgard and Catherine. They watched her expression intently. She filled with dread. Parvati took in a breath and accepted the scroll into her open hand, letting Edelgard take the umbrella out of her hands as she read. When she finished reading, she gasped. She looked up at Catherine. 

An assassination plan, against the Archbishop. 

“Is that enough?” asked Catherine. “Is this enough, Professor? Are we done here? Because I’m tired of listening to your lecture!”

Parvati felt the slap in her words. She returned quietly, “Well, I guess I’m not your professor, am I?”

Catherine looked at her, then she looked like she’d made up her mind. “No, Professor, you’re not,” she said. She rolled the scroll back again and dropped it back into its holder. “I watched over Ashe for you. Now I’m done instructing the Blue Lions.”

Parvati froze, looking into the valley, the blank space where Catherine had been. She turned to watch her go. Did she just lose — the Blue Lions instructor? A friend? Did she just lose Catherine? 

Her eyes started stinging. When did that happen? When did Catherine become a friend?

She blinked the sting away and ran after the Knight, and faltered. “Catherine!”

Catherine stopped.

“Thanks for watching over him,” said Parvati, because she had no idea how to thank her for everything else.

Catherine stood there for a moment, then went on walking away. Parvati watched her stride away quickly, no doubt on her way to report to Seteth. Beside her, Edelgard, with the black umbrella, suddenly appeared. Edelgard held it out to her, she, and Hubert behind her, shimmering.

“Oh!” said Parvati, realizing now that her cloak was soaked. She hadn’t spoken with Ashe. All the other students must have passed by in the time she’d been arguing. She turned to Edelgard and said, “Return that to Hanneman…please.”

Lady Edelgard nodded to her. She and Hubert watched the Duscuri professor depart towards the Faculty Hall. “She was honest,” she said to Hubert. “Not everyone can be honest.”

“It’s going to kill her one day, being so honest,” said Hubert.

Edelgard laughed. “Then she will die for what she believes in.”

He crossed his arms. “I wonder,” intoned Hubert, “will her death be in vain?”

Notes:

Thanks for reading! And thank you to Dragoncat1991 for the interview questions and to DGRTDB for Comment 500!!! 

Chapter 36: Crack of Blue

Summary:

LES GOOOO fastest updates on record for The Lion and the Lotus! More coming soon, thanks for sticking with me!

Notes:

All right, we’re on a roll here with the fastest updates on record for The Lion and the Lotus! Thank you so much for all the comments, bookmarks and kudos! Now that I’m settling after a lot of life shifts, all the engagement really makes me antsy to post all of the ready-to-go upcoming chapters at a much faster cadence! BIG BIG thank yous to DGRTDB, Seether00, Satelesque and Yoshistar_Writes! 

Also, I would like to feature a story today! I am absolutely gleeful and touched: Dragoncat (Dragoncat1991) wrote a wonderful gift story for me with a delightful surprise for a climax. The Queen's Language Lessons” came forth after a conversation about multi-racial couples and how they support each other. In this case, DC’s OC Tiana von Riegan, Claude’s Fódlani mother, learns Almyran. Thank you so much, DragonCat. It was SO CUTE! 🥰

Chapter Text

 



Chapter 36
Crack of Blue



The next morning began the awkward dance, a dance between Parvati and Catherine. Parvati marveled. For two people who had become suddenly awkward with each other, it was amazing how coordinated they had become — with absolutely no communication. Parvati saw Catherine in the lunch line? She suddenly had to go to the bathroom. Catherine saw Parvati coming down the hall from her office? The bulletin board of announcements became something that needed double-checking. There were six days of this. The worst was when they made eye contact with each other. They both wanted something, but were afraid of something else, so they replaced the look of surprise on their faces with — for Catherine, irritation and hostility — for Parvati, simply looking away. 

The one time Parvati called out to Catherine, the knight picked up a brochure from the bulletin board. Parvati looked at it. Then she said, “Did you mean to stop teaching immediately?” 

“Yes,” said Catherine, though she hadn’t even thought about it. 

The frustration on Parvati’s face looked haughty to Catherine. Catherine’s inability to figure out what to say next looked like derision to Parvati. 

“Fine,” said Parvati. “Thanks for taking care of him.” 

Catherine glared at her, unable to conjure who Parvati meant when she was already occupied with decoding Parvati’s “Fine.” What did she mean Fine? Had Catherine had a choice in this? Wait, did Catherine have a choice when to stop? Because then she didn’t want to stop yet. By the time Catherine came up with all these questions, Parvati had already gone downstairs. Catherine groaned, realized the brochure she was holding was upside down, and cursed herself.

Shamir came out of Captain Jeralt’s office right as Catherine was cursing. “What’s wrong?” she said.  

Catherine gave her a Catherine classic: “Nothing!”

During lunch on the fourth day, Seteth saw Catherine look away as Parvati came their way. He asked, “What’s happening between you two?”

Shamir said, “They’re fighting.”

“But you’re supposed to be friends,” said Seteth. 

“That’s precisely why they’re fighting.”

“Shamir, shut up,” growled Catherine. Seteth eyed the knight quietly. 

The Blue Lions were also not enthused.

“What do you mean she’s no longer teaching?” asked Felix.

Parvati said, “You should ask Catherine.”

“Why aren’t you teaching us?” he asked Catherine.

Catherine said, “You should ask Parvati.”

And in that moment, Felix hated both of them.


Catherine wasn’t the only person Parvati was having a hard time getting a hold of. Ashe was hard to find as well. She had seen him once, the day after he came back, in the lunch line, but Hanneman put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. “Now is not the time.” 

Ashe looked miserable, and every day he looked miserable was a day Parvati was as well. She found herself in the Cathedral more and more often, subconsciously seeking him. She knew what it was like to lose her parents. She didn’t want to be alone back then, no matter how much she pushed everyone away. She didn’t want it to be like that for him. 

Which is why she found herself wandering into the Four Saints’ room one day, and came upon the Viceroy. 

This wasn’t the first time they found each other there. The first time Seteth found Parvati in the Four Saints’ room, he found her staring at the statue of Saint Indech. 

“What are you doing?” Seteth had asked. “I’ve never seen you in the Cathedral before.”

She looked over her shoulder at him absently and said, “One of the benefits of being Hinduscuri is that I can go anywhere and pray to anything I want to. I like that idea,” she said, turning back to the statue of his twin brother. “We pay our respects everywhere.”

Seteth was surprised. He said, “You were praying?”

That question pulled her out of her trance. She shook her head no. “Today I came to look at the Saints. I read your volume about him. It was rendered so lovingly it brought me to tears.”

Seteth furrowed his brows. “Why?”

It seemed like Parvati was going to only stare at the statue of his brother, but the sounds of the choir lifted up in the Cathedral again. They had just finished intermission, and the sound of someone’s coughing high notes rose above it all. Parvati and Seteth peeked out of the entrance of the Saints Hall in disbelief. Was that Lorenz? Even the monk in charge of monitoring the room looked like he was considering closing the door.

In fact, that is exactly what he did. 

Parvati blinked. “You could do that?”

“One of the privileges the Archbishop affords me.” The tips of the monk’s lips twitched.

Parvati chuckled. She returned her attention to Seteth. “Saint Indech reminds me of my father. Ma was the showy one, dragging me and Baba around all over the continent. My father was gentler in nature. Though he was most prolific of us all, he didn’t have huge ambitions. He was just happy if anyone took even the slightest interest in the things he loved. Then he wouldn’t stop talking your ears off.” She couldn’t stop smiling. “It was my mother who pushed all his books through the publishing process, however. He just could not do it. And she would joke, I wasn’t her biggest accomplishment.” Parvati adopted a low note in her voice as she mimicked, with her hands on her belly, “I carried your stupid book for fourteen years! It’s time it gets — evicted!”

Seteth looked properly scandalized. Parvati laughed at his expression. The monk, dutifully standing in the corner, also started laughing. 

Seteth couldn’t help it. He smiled. “You come from a lively crowd, it seems.”

Parvati shook her head. “If I could be even half of what my mother was…” She gave a happy sigh. “You should have seen her. She made people care about a dead language. Ha! If I could write anything worth a damn when it comes to stories — oops! Pardon my Sreng!” Parvati glanced at Seteth, wary he would snap. “If I could write stories, I would write about my parents. They were such…happy people. So cute and perfect. I am lucky to have been born to them.”

“You seem their touching rendition. They must have been happy with you as their child as well.”

Her expression changed. She looked away. “I don’t know. I’m not convinced I was good for them.”

This piqued his interest. “Why?”

“Because of what they gave up for me.” She now regarded the statue of Cichol — of Seteth.

It was a message from deep within his soul when he said this to her. “No parent regrets the sacrifices they make for their child.”

Bitter was her smile. “You wouldn’t know.” 

Those words hung between them for a period. At last, she turned and bowed. “Thank you for sharing your work, Viceroy. I understand you better now. Or, at least, you’re less terrifying.”

“I am glad,” said Seteth, surprised to find he meant it. “I am glad to understand you better as well.”


The next time they found each other, it was Parvati who approached the Viceroy. 

“Praying to Saint Cethleann?” asked Parvati. “I didn’t imagine her as the one you would consult.”

Seteth shook his head. “No, I’m not praying. I was swearing an oath to…wait, why not?”

Because Parvati imagined someone as severe as him would look for guidance from someone equally severe. She did not say this to him. “Actually, I don’t know anything about Saint Cethleann, so I don’t know why you would pray to her.”

“She is a very special figure to me. That is why I swear my oaths to her likeness. She wished, more than any other, for a peaceful world. I will grant her that wish, at any cost.”

“At any cost…?” Parvati intoned. Everyone here, so ready to pay a cost. What of the prices that shouldn’t be paid, for once? she thought. She appealed silently to Saint Indech. He would understand.

“Praying to Saint Indech?” asked Seteth, seeing her clasped hands. 

She said, “This time, I am. I have managed to say too much and too little, all at the same time somehow. I wonder if he might have guidance for me.”

There was something about the smile on his face.

“What?” she said, suddenly doubtful. 

“Indech didn’t say much,” said Seteth. “He would not be the one to consult…”

Parvati’s eyes slid over to the next statue. “Macuil?”

“By the Goddess! Even worse.”

She frowned at the Viceroy’s unusually passionate responses. She turned her attention to Saint Cethleann next. “So which Saint should I consult?”

Seteth cleared his throat. “I suppose if these were your only choices…” He spoke as if, out of the Four Saints, there were, in fact, particularly bad choices. He was slightly flushed as he suggested, “Perhaps Saint Cichol would be the best option.” 

“Cichol?” Parvati regarded the final statue doubtfully. She truly had no reason to be disinclined to it than any of the others, but…

“I like to think he was the most…prudent,” said Seteth. Then, unprompted, he said “If this is about Ashe, I am certain he would respond with great empathy.”

Parvati was quite startled. It was true, she had come into the Cathedral in search of Ashe, but this… She recalled the things she had just foolishly said in the presence of Lady Edelgard…and to Catherine… She groaned.

Seteth hummed. “By the way, I heard from Catherine that she shared classified information with you. I, of course, expect that to stay private. And be not concerned. We are attending to the matter immediately.”

The very mention of Catherine’s name stung. “I wasn’t concerned,” said Parvati. Seeing Seteth scrutinize her indifference, she explained, “We’ve got people like you and Catherine and Lady Edelgard here, people willing to pay any price to protect…” Her words trailed off. Protect what? She cleared her throat. “In any case, I have no concerns.”

Seteth nodded. “Very well. Then, I am happy to inform you of something that might bring you some cheer. About the Museum…”


Parvati sprinted out of the Saints’ Room the moment Seteth told her. They started construction on the Agarthan Museum! Past the graveyards, past the Treasury, there it would be, the new eastern-most building on the monastery. A beautiful location, with views of the eastern canyon! 

The rain ceased and sun just sliced a crack of blue in between the clouds when she saw it: the wood panel constructs already taking form… Two stories high! She gasped, and slowed to a walk to catch her breath. This was…bigger than anything she’d expected! It was supposed to house all the Agarthan artifacts coming from Adrestia…and those were coming in next week. She didn’t anticipate being able to actually have any adequate space to set them apart. She would get to put everything in their glass cases, with little descriptions… She’d thought she’d asked of the Church an indulgence, that she’d be given space only enough to cluster everything together like a piled up antique shop. This was…

She ducked under the door two workers were hauling as all three of them came around a corner. “Hey!” they protested, startled. “Who are you?” But Parvati didn’t hear them. She was a kid all over again. Everything was just like when she in the excavation zones. There was brilliant sun, and Ma and Baba were somewhere else in the excavation site, and there were lots and lots of people everywhere, people yelling at each other and lots of noises, and machinery — machinery being used to freshly build the other machinery that would be strong enough to pull the heaviest artifacts out of the Agarthan site. 

Except, here, it wasn’t machinery building machinery — it was people putting doors and floors and walls together to contain all the machinery that Parvati and her parents had found. 

“Oh,” Parvati said to herself, seeing that the building was a bit narrower from the eastern side than its adjacent side indicated. So, it would be a narrow museum? She considered it for a moment, then shrugged. At this point, what did it matter? It was going to be her museum! Also, she was no doubt about to get heckled to get out of the construction zone. 

She had hardly been shooed out of the construction zone before colliding with someone. Ashe!

“What are you doing here?” they both asked each other. 

Parvati told him all about the Agarthan Museum, so filled was she with elation. She told him about how all the shipments had been delayed from Adrestia, and so that the construction was delayed, since the Church had so many things on its plate. But the artifacts were coming and the Museum was happening and she couldn’t believe any of this was real!

“This…is pretty much my dream, actually,” she said to him, so giddy she could barely breathe. “A giant museum — is what I’ve always imagined, with doors that open on their own, and lights that welcome you, and spending days of mine marveling at what those people had at that time — remarkable! — and sharing it with the world! I get to excite people every single day!”

Ashe smiled. “I think your enthusiasm alone would bring them excitement,” he said as they gravitated towards the scenic view of the canyon over the monastery’s eastern walls.

Parvati shook her head. “Oh blasphemy—there’s so much more!” she said. “You would be amazed to imagine...!” She looked at him, then into the canyon, then motioned him to come close as she whispered him secrets. “Ashe…I’ve seen a place with buildings twenty stories tall. What’s remarkable was, that this building was underground. And, even more remarkable — within this building there were moving platforms! They could take you straight from the top to the bottom in less time than you could hold your breath!”

Ashe’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

She was becoming more and more animated as she spoke. “And it was all filled with those lights! The ones in my classroom? You could see into every hallway, and even the platform — in fact! — on the platform, there was a console, and on the console were many many squares, with a number to indicate which floor you wanted. The lights could be made so tiny, they were able to fit these into the little squares the length of your thumb to first knuckle — here — one inch? You press on these little squares, and the square would light up, and then you wait as you feel the platform descending — and the doors opened up, and you were there! On another floor!” 

Ashe’s face filled with wonder. “Why did they need twenty stories? Were they storing grain?”

It was Parvati’s turn to look at Ashe, astounded. She stepped away from him for a bit, looking out into the canyon, and put her hands against the walls, trying to steady herself. Her shoulders were shaking.

“Professor? Is something wrong?” Ashe came to lean on the wall beside her, unable to see her expression as she doubled over. That’s when he realized — the strange noise she was making — she was laughing. She was laughing so hard she was holding her stomach. 

“Oh Ashe,” she said, wiping her eyes. “You really are one of my favorite persons.” She took a deep breath. “That was a work out for my belly. I needed that. It’s been such an awful bunch of days…” Then she paused, because however her days had been, it was he who had it the worst. “Ashe, how are you?”

He looked back out to the canyon and shrugged. “I checked on my brother and sister, who are living in Castle Gaspard,” he said to her. “Thankfully they're all right. I was worried because they're both so young, but the church in the castle town offered to take them in. That much, at least, is a big relief.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother and sister.”

He nodded. “My little sister’s the one with the foul mouth.”

Parvati chuckled. They watched a wyvern rising out of the canyon, on the other side.

“I would love to ride a wyvern,” said Ashe, gaze completely captured. They watched the wyvern looping the dusty rocks on the other side of the canyon some two hundred feet away, then land on edge of the rocks on its taloned hind legs, before suddenly dropping down into the dark. Parvati had no idea how deep the canyon extended, but they couldn’t see the bottom. 

“I heard Seteth has a wyvern,” Ashe said.

Parvati shuddered. “After my last flying escapade…”

“O — Oh!” Ashe said. “I shouldn’t have brought this up.”

Parvati waved a dismissive hand, and wondered if she could squint and see the wyvern caves in the dark abyss. She asked Ashe if he knew that wyverns lived in caves down there, and that to bring out wyverns, one had to go to them with a wyvern. “Unless you know how to Summon,” she said. “I think that’s what Flayn said. How do you Summon them?”

“You call them with magic,” he said. “Different spells bring you different ones. The wyvern decides if it likes your spell.”

Parvati put a hand on her chin. “So you’re saying spells have different signatures that appeal to them…by which means, different spells could be used to stratify what you bring forth…”

“I don’t know if it’s like that. It’s more like — the wyverns smell the magic, and they come to you if they like the smell. It’s very personal to them. It’s unique. These aren’t really calling spells that say ‘I want this type of wyvern’ and you expect a bunch to come forth. The wyverns fight with each other if more than one answers the call.”

Parvati frowned. “Fight each other? Like they have dibs on the person who called?”

Ashe chuckled. “Yes! Like they have ‘dibs’. They’re very territorial.” She kept on frowning, so Ashe added, “Once you’ve connected with a wyvern, the others will know not to answer your call. You’ll get marked.”

Parvati looked warily at him. “What do you mean marked?”

He shook his head. “Nothing painful. It essentially showers you with pheromones.”

“What do you mean ‘showers you with pheromones’? What, do we get peed on like a dog?”

“Ha ha ha ha…well, that’s not entirely inaccurate.”

“What?”

Ashe laughed at her disgust. Parvati shuddered. “Well, I can’t even Summon them, so okay.”

Ashe asked her why not. She explained to him that the people of Duscur did not have what most Fódlani considered “magic.” In fact, quite a few were even allergic to magic, so if they got hurt, one couldn’t use light magic to heal them.

“You mean — if you got hurt, Mercedes and Manuela couldn’t heal you?” he asked.

Parvati shook her head no. “No, I am severely allergic.”

“Wow,” said Ashe. “That’s scary. I suppose when I go to battle…” He was quiet for a moment, lost in thought as his eyes traced the wyvern. “When anybody goes into battle,” he said, “we rely on our healers to heal us.”

“Maybe that’s why you soldiers can go into battle throwing away your lives,” Parvati said. “Because you always think someone will heal them. …You have…so many lives, in that sense, while the Duscuri fear for their one.”

“Does this mean,” said Ashe, “that we can’t heal Dedue?”

“I think I’ve already heard of him being healed before,” said Parvati. “So I think he’s safe.”

“Thank goodness,” said Ashe. He asked about the Blue Lions. “Where are they?”

“Oh!” said Parvati. It was the reason she had some peace and quiet recently — the Blue Lions also had been sent out on mission, with Shamir. 

They watched another wyvern fly out from the canyon, this one closer to them, and on its back, a Knight of Seiros. Parvati watched the pair climb up into the sky and spiral. Then, she had an idea. 

“Hey, Ashe,” she said, “you want to fly on a wyvern?”

Chapter 37: Snaps of Lightning

Summary:

Snaps of Lightning - or Flying Lessons from Seteth.

Chapter Text

“Seteth! Please train Ashe to be a wyvern rider!” said Parvati, bowing in Seteth’s office. “Ashe — and the Blue Lions! This is the favor I ask!”

Seteth blinked. “Ah. I was wondering when you would call that favor in.” The favor was one he promised her as an apology for Flayn’s flying lesson antics. 

He was quiet for so long Parvati stood up, thinking he was about to say no. But he said, “Very well, I will. Now with Captain Jeralt taking over the Knights, I do find myself with a modicum of time. I can train you as well.”

“What? Oh. No no no. I’ve had enough flying,” said Parvati, thinking she was turning down a generous offer.

“Nonsense. It is not at all like flying pegasi. The experience is much smoother, less inductive of nausea — ”

“Those were — not the problems I was having — ” Parvati protested.

“Listen. I could either watch you struggle to get away from your students and hear about it during every faculty meeting,” said Seteth, “or I could teach you how to fly and take out two birds with one stone.”

Parvati felt her stomach swoop. He wasn’t offering. “Those birds didn’t do anything to you!” she said. “I’ll stop complaining! I’ll learn to say no! You just — you put down your stone!” 

“Where is Ashe? I have time now. We are leaving,” he said, leading Parvati out of the office.

She chased after him, pleading, “No no no no no!” 

And in this moment Parvati realized the hypocrisy of Seteth: telling her to learn to say no, and yet being every bit like Flayn — unable to hear it when it applied to him.

As it was turned out, she wasn’t going to get away with saying no to either one of them much.


The thing about wyvern riders is, when Parvati had seen them, she was looking at the human. Never before had Parvati truly looked the reptilian beast in the face. Now, she and Ashe were looking at two of them. 

“Oh my gods!” she panicked, reeling backwards into Seteth. “You want me to get on top of that? This is a monster! It’s an alligator-kangaroo with wings!”

She had thought she was up for it. Seteth had given Ashe and Parvati a half-hour lecture in her office, complete with diagrams on her blackboard. It had started to sound fine and dandy. She’d even calmed down enough to demonstrate the order of harness fastenings on Seteth’s blackboard drawings. But now she was thinking about how a wyvern could smash that blackboard with its face. Or its front arms. Or its back legs. Or its tail. Or the two hands the gods had for some reason stuck to the top of each wing, where it folded. Had she ever noticed those before? There were fully eight appendages a wyvern could utilize to smash a blackboard, if it so chooses.

Seteth gave her an irritated glance. “Anything they lack in aesthetics they will compensate for in a myriad ways. Now get on the way I instructed.”

He stood along the wing of the light gray training wyvern and beckoned for Ashe to step onto the leather vane of its right wing. Parvati gauged the wyvern’s expression as Ashe hesitantly stepped onto it, then walked up the wing. Was it hurting when people were stepping on its wing…? Then Parvati realized — she didn’t even know how to gauge how a wyvern felt. Wyvern behavior and mannerisms seemed to have been left off the lesson.

As Ashe seated himself, Parvati hollered at Seteth to re-check the harness and saddle. She had almost fallen off a pegasus because the harness had not been properly connected. There would be no repeat of what happened to her last time. Not today. 

As Seteth did so, Parvati scowled and crossed her arms. She looked at the other wyvern, the one Seteth had fitted for himself. This one was green. A grayish-green. She didn’t know wyverns existed in this color. Either way, she didn’t like it. She wouldn’t have liked a wyvern of any other color either, but this one was looking at her in some type of way. It was the same way every wyvern looked at everything, but in this moment, Parvati interpreted every reptilian expression as one that said, You’re going to die.

Seteth jumped off her own wyvern’s shoulders and landed lithely on the ground, almost mid-step. He made it look like jumping down from eight feet up was as routine to him as pouring a cup of tea, turning a page in a book, or ordering Parvati around. Parvati was impressed. 

She would not to show it, though, because she was still angry at him.

“Stand back, Parvati,” said Seteth, turning back to face the wyvern. 

After what he did next, Parvati scuttled back many, many steps. He snapped. The lightning at his fingertips drew the attention of Ashe’s wyvern. It perked and turned its massive head, the size of Parvati’s desk, to examine with one eye closely what Seteth was doing. The Viceroy snapped again, this time to moving his snapping hand up. The wyvern’s head followed the motion of his arm, straight on leaping into the air. The sound was so big, Parvati couldn’t hear what Seteth was saying. She was too busy thinking about how much time she spent looking at the wings with awe, not realizing before there was flight, there was a ludicrous, gut-dropping jump. 

Seteth looked over his shoulder and called out, “Why are you all the way over there?”

She shook her head. “No reason!” 

There were plenty of reasons.

But Ashe was hovering already. By the Viceroy’s instruction, the wyvern glided gracefully, wheeling outwards in a bigger and bigger spiral. Ashe’s face looked ecstatic. He waved enthusiastically at Parvati, lost his balance, and brought his arms back down to whatever he had been holding.

“He isn’t rolling his hips,” said Seteth as he approached her. He pointed at Ashe and said, “See that? Every time the wyvern crests its wave, it throws him upward — but then he keeps falling back into the saddle. This is bad for his lower back. His spine will take a lot of stress. You have to clench with your thighs and roll with it.”

Parvati gave him a look, then muttered to herself. “That sounds intensely sexual. Wait, are wyvern riders good at sex?”

Whatever Seteth was going to say next stopped coming out of his mouth.

She put a hand on her chin, “How much does a wyvern cost, anyway? …Should I get one for Randolph?”

Seteth cleared his throat to remind her he was still there. Then he pointed at the other wyvern.

She said, “Oh…”

Seteth went on ahead. He bound up to the training wyvern’s shoulder by the time she reached its wing. She folded her hands together in a quick prayer and gingerly stepped onto its wing. The wing was folding under her feet! Like rope nets hung up in children’s parks in Enbarr! How the heck did Ashe and Seteth get up? She climbed the sagging wing beneath her, almost coming to all fours. By the time her shaky hands found the black saddle, she was ready to take a break. She leaned onto it, not trusting her footing.

“Now get onto it,” said Seteth. 

“Did you check the saddle?”

“I already did.”

Parvati took a deep breath, preparing herself, then straddled the wyvern and took a seat. She strapped herself into the harnesses for her legs and tested her balance, and put her hand on the hand-hold.

“Don’t do that with your legs,” he said.

“Do what?” she said.

He indicated. “Sudden swerves could injure the tendons in your heels. Don’t wear heels next time.”

She pouted internally, minding, and put her weight back into her legs. She had her heels up because she was self conscious about her pudgy thighs. Randolph may love squishing and lying on her pudgy thighs, but — The thing with women’s thighs, she thought, you sit down, and they double in size. What the heck. Randolph had told her if that was the case, and all women’s thighs were pudgy thighs, then maybe thighs were supposed to be pudgy, and to just enjoy them. Nice, squishy, pudgy thighs. But Parvati continued finding comfort in hiding them under tables during lunch, or using tables to cover them during meetings in office rooms, or having them “normal size” when she was standing, and they may as well not have existed when she was wearing a cloak. 

But she wasn’t allowed to wear a cloak on a wyvern, which was why she was even more horrified when Seteth tugged at the leather harnesses at her calf and ankle. He looked over her back, to the other side, and she could smell that cologne again when, for the space of a second, he was leaning across the back of the saddle, behind her. Parvati held her breath.

When he stepped back again, she let go of her breath again. He had a small smile on his face as he traced Ashe. “He is a natural.”

Parvati was happy to hear it. Then Seteth jumped off the wyvern and turned and snapped with both hands, and her own wyvern stretched out its wings. 

Oh no.

She could feel the roiling mass of muscle underneath her as it stood up higher on its hind legs. It made her start tilting backwards on her saddle.

“Boss, this is a bad idea!” Parvati burst. “A very, very bad idea! You’re going to be the death of me! Flayn already tried!”

He responded, “Flayn did no such thing!” And then, those upwards snaps.

The wings straightened out, taut, and pulled upwards, and with a thump came down to the ground. Parvati flew up into the sky like a ball from a catapult. Attached to the wyvern this time. The only thing that stopped her from going airborne was the leather harness and her grip on the saddle. A few beats later, she realized, it truly was unlike the pegasus. With a pegasus, she was able to feel each hoof land as it used magic to run across the sky. With the wyvern, it truly was like riding an ocean wave, up and down and up and down, as the wyvern stayed in place. It was predictable, and like Seteth had mentioned, when she added the hip rolling movement, she could even say it was comfortable. 

“Oh,” she said, surprised. She gave Seteth a wavering smile. “This isn’t so bad.”

He wasn’t looking at her. With arm movements that looked like a dance, he gave Ashe’s wyvern more directions. 

Parvati dared to take one of her hands off of the handhold to stroke the wyvern’s neck. “Hmm…nope, this will never be cuddly,” she said. It was like petting a knotted tree. She put her hands on the reins now, instead. The wyvern was looking back at her, with its neck turned in a U-turn so it could appraise her with an eye like a massive marbled turquoise. 

Seteth was calling again. She looked down. She had no fear of heights, and was, in fact, enthralled by them, so seeing him and everything else from thirty feet up was making her giddy. Now she saw Seteth pointing towards the Cathedral. Ashe was already headed towards the Great Bridge.

“He’s flying?” said Parvati, astounded. Could it really be this intuitive and fast? Then Seteth motioned for her to follow Ashe. And for the first time, she grinned at Seteth, lifted up the reins, and took to the sky.


It was ecstasy. Flying was pure ecstasy. There were few things that brought her this rush — the moment she’d crack the puzzle of what a piece of Ancient Technology did, or found the sudden, surprising solution to a math problem. The Great Bridge came and went underneath her, and the tops of trees clinging to the mountain of Garreg Mach looked like the tree models from Cupertino’s board games. 

Ashe was getting bolder. He was flying under the bridge, between the arches. Did he learn to steer already? 

A shadow passed over Parvati, and Seteth on another wyvern plummeted into dizzying cartwheels before he following Ashe. 

She followed overhead, all three of them making a wide, slow circle around the Cathedral half of the mountain. The western side of the monastery was cliffside, just like Flayn had said, and as Parvati swung around the Cathedral to the north side, she saw similar cliffside drop into the canyon so deep it descended into black. 

She couldn’t stop looking down at it. Just blackness. Out one mouth of the canyon, a silver river snaked out and flashed in the sun. That river must have come out of the canyon… She’d learn later that the river would turn east and flow all the way through Alliance territory, through mountains, and into Almyra. It would have been a trade route if it weren’t for raging rapids and waterfalls.

When she first heard the bells toll, she didn’t understand what she was hearing. It was impossible to hear with the wind flapping in her ears. But she knew what was happening just as she came back east.

Faerghus banners. The Blue Lions were returning. Ashe looked over his shoulder at Seteth, and Seteth nodded. Then, their elevation began dropping. 

Parvati could feel butterflies in her stomach. She hadn’t tried to change elevation yet. She tried to change her leg position, the way Seteth had said — there. Slight change in elevation. She was descending. 

The Blue Lions and some hundred men and women of their battalions were straggling across the grassy hill portion of the mountain, on foot. As Parvati looked over the other wing of the wyvern, she realized that wasn’t all of them. Ahead of the rest, Dimitri, Ingrid and Sylvain were on horseback, almost reaching the switchbacks. 

Seteth plummeted with his wyvern. Parvati cried out. Just before he hit the ground — or her students — he swerved the wyvern up, kicking up a wind that threw the Faerghus banners of the battalions completely sideways.

“Show off,” Parvati muttered. The Faerghusi too looked crossly after the wyvern rider as she let her wyvern idle over the switchbacks. 

She realized something was happening when Ashe fluttered down to the battalions, stayed hovering over them and talking to them for a bit, and then waving to Seteth. Seteth wheeled his wyvern around and landed within the battalions. Before long, he came flying her way. When she saw what was strapped in the front of his saddle, she knew it was the end of the lesson. 

Felix was unconscious.

“Parvati, please land,” he said, telling her he couldn’t monitor her now. “Remember, whatever you do, do not pull up.”

She nodded, watched him hurry Felix to the infirmary. She descended where she was hovering, at the bottom of the road, before it turned into the switchbacks.

“Professor!” said Dimitri, looking down from up the first switchback. He motioned his horse to stop.

Don’t pull, don’t pull, don’t pull, thought Parvati. The wyvern landed, almost knocking her off. That was rougher than expected. Before she could do anything else, Ashe was running up her wyvern’s wing. “Here,” he said. “Let me help!” 

She nodded — he seemed to have picked up everything a lot faster than her. Dimitri, Ingrid and Sylvain loitered as they watched Ashe and Parvati undo her legs from the harness. 

“I didn’t know you could fly, Professor!” Sylvain hollered over. 

“You’ll be learning soon!” she responded.

“We will?” asked Dimitri. He exchanged glances with Ingrid and Sylvain.

“From Seteth,” she said. “Your next instructor.” Since I went and lost Catherine…

Sylvain whistled. “That’ll be good, right, Ingrid?”

“I already know how to fly,” she said.

“Oh. That’s good!” said Parvati, not paying attention. She had gotten out of the saddle, caught herself when her knees buckled, then stood back up with more commitment, wishing her students hadn’t seen that. Then she stared at the drop to the ground, legs unsteady.

How am I going to go down the wing without falling on my ass? she thought to herself.

“Just slide down, Professor!” said Ashe. He plopped down onto his bottom and demonstrated sliding down the wing, like a kid on a children’s play set in Adrestia. 

Parvati chuckled. “You mean I don’t have to jump eight feet and break my knees?” She couldn’t help thinking, How the hell did Seteth do it?

When she was on ground again, she thanked her gods. The wyverns, without Seteth to commanded them, decided they did not want to be there anymore. The professor and Blue Lions kids watched them depart, and she wondered briefly where the rest of the crew went. Where was Dedue? Where was Annette? Where was Mercedes? The kids informed her the three went shopping when they realized they had an overlap for baking and cooking ingredients. “Oh, that’s lovely!” Parvati smiled as Ashe expressed how much he wished he could be with them. “You could go,” she told him, but he shook his head.  

“So, Professor,” said Sylvain. “I’m challenging these two to a race. Take your bet! How about, if I win, I am taking you to dinner?” He winked.

“If I pay," responded Parvati, "will you help me grade the math quizzes you took before you left?”

It was a very quick no. 

“Then I suppose you best be on your way.” Parvati waved him off. 

Sylvain shrugged. “Okay, Professor. Your loss!” 

Ashe and Parvati waved them away, and within moments, they the sixteen dusty hairpin turns leading up the monastery were clouds of dust. 

“Didn’t they just get back from a mission?” she asked. “So much energy…” She took a step forward and her legs turned to jelly. At least she landed on her rump, but then said, “That’s not great.”

“Don’t you remember?” asked Ashe. This was the common side effect of the first few days wyvern riding. 

Parvati considered the road back up with dread. What were they going to do?

Her question was punctuated by a sudden shriek from Ingrid. “Sylvain, you cheat!”

Which started Parvati laughing. “Ha ha ha, even Ingrid.” Then, she and Ashe heard the skittering of pebbles under wheels. 

“Ah, Professor! Need a lift?” It was one of the sisters of the monastery, on the hayride wagon up. 

Ashe seemed to recognize this person. “Serra?”

Serra smiled. 

Chapter 38: Attack on Spoons

Summary:

There will be no spoons in this monastery.

Notes:

Sorry I’ve been out for a while! I got Fire Emblem Engaged. SQUEEEEE!!! 🥰💖🥰💖🥰

Chapter Text

Ashe was having a good day. He couldn’t remember the last time he had one, not since he’d watched his adoptive father, Lord Lonato, get cut down by none other than Professor Byleth. From the moment he had run into his Premier again, it had taken a turn for the magical.

She always transported him to another life whenever she talked about ancient Agartha. Her enthusiasm so lifted his spirits, and then — wyvern riding lessons! She had left him in her office for a moment as she went off to consult the Viceroy and, within moments, had procured for Ashe a ready instructor — the Viceroy himself! 

And what a joy it was to lift off and leave his grief and his burdens to the earth! Ashe took to the skies as if he belonged there, and could hardly contain the blood rush when he returned to earth. 

Even now, Professor Parvati sank deep into conversation with a priestess named Serra, Ashe’s attention roamed the skies. He was very glad for the Viceroy. Seteth was stern, but much gentler than Ashe had imagined. He wondered if he could ask Seteth when he could return to the skies again. 

Which is why he found it quite a surprise to find Seteth looking all sorts of cross when the shuttle came to a stop at the top of the mountain. The Viceroy was addressing Prince Dimitri, Ingrid and Sylvain, and when he looked up, Ashe could felt the full wrath of his disapproval in one glance alone. Ashe swallowed. Was there something he forgot? Did he release his wyvern wrong?

Then he realized that glare was directed at the professor. Ashe tapped the unaware professor’s shoulder just as she burst out laughing at something Serra was saying. She smiled offhandedly at Ashe, thinking he was merely letting her know they had arrived, but followed Ashe’s glance of terror at her boss. The smile froze transfixed upon her face, and she exchanged a puzzled glance with Serra, then followed Ashe down the step as they were forced to approach Seteth.

Ashe stepped out of the way eagerly. He didn’t realize it, but he took a place behind her and just peeked out like a small child.

“What were you thinking?” Seteth asked. “What. Were you. Thinking?”

Behind the Viceroy, the three Blue Lions stood in a line with their hands clasped behind their back in the Faerghusi protocol as the Viceroy glared at their Premier.

“Have you no sense?” said the Viceroy. “Letting them abuse their horses! On these rocky roads! Parvati, the horses could have been injured! They could have been injured. How can you let them do something so irresponsible?”

The Premier was blindsided, her mouth opening to release only an “Aah…”

Aah wasn’t adequate for Seteth.

Ingrid came in for a rescue. “Viceroy Seteth, this wasn’t her idea — ”

“But your safety should be one of them, don’t you think?” responded Seteth.

Curious passersby stopped to watch the public remonstration. A monk sidled over to the guards to ask what was happening.

“And surely she had a full twenty minutes to think of it?”

The Blue Lions looked to their Premier, who stood silent and impassive.

“We should like to discuss this in your office, don’t you think?” she said.

“Those horses have to be rehabilitated,” Seteth went not. “Your kids could have flung themselves over edge. What do you have to say for yourself,  Parvati?”

The professor was silent for so long, Seteth turned away to address the children. However…

Deadly Derby - horse race kills 3 Officer’s Academy students at the peak of their young lives. 

Everyone directed their attention to the professor, perplexed. Out of thin air, she continued citing: 

Breaking news! This Sunday saw to the tragic passing of three Officer’s Academy students, including the Royal Prince of Faerghus himself. 

Yours truly, The Imperial Herald, sent our finest representatives to investigate the situation. With just one look, it becomes increasingly clear! There is a series of switchbacks leading up to the Monastery and the Academy. They look prime for racing. Of course the students would succumb to the passion of youth!  

The roads here, however, are treacherously narrow. These switchbacks are stacked. Caravans with barrels and other merchandise that could fall off and roll — fatally — down the mountains, they pass by here daily. 

The Imperial Herald cannot help but think about the massive funds housed at the Seirosi faith’s epicenter. Surely Garreg Mach could have thought to install the most basic of safety features. How could the Officer’s Academy let this happen to them?”

Professor Parvati paused. “Shall I go on?”

No!” cried the Viceroy. His expression had evolved from irritation to confusion to mortification. He blanched as he stared at her.

The three Blue Lions behind him too had gone through a transformation of emotions, listening to her materialize something that spoke of them posthumously. By the end, however, they too were left slack-jawed.

“If it would please you, Lord Viceroy, I could look into a project enabling safety mechanisms immediately,” said Professor Parvati. “The reputation of the Church of Seiros could use every defender against the uncouth quills of Times of Enbarr and The Imperial Herald. I can’t imagine you would be opposed?”

Seteth blinked at Parvati. “No…”

“And I am certain,” the professor went on, “that not a one of these three would dream of any more — idiotic — stunts to embarrass the Officer’s Academy — or — their parents?”

Ingrid, Sylvain and Prince Dimitri responded in chorus. “No, ma’am.”

Lovely,” Professor Parvati indulged. “I do cherish our harmony.” Then her eyes flashed at her students. “Now get.”

The students — and eavesdropping passersby — scrambled to get away so fast, Ashe barely heard the professor say, “Ashe, not you.”

Prince Dimitri gave Ashe a curt nod as he followed Ingrid and Sylvain stable-wards. Ashe wondered why she had singled him out.

Professor Parvati stepped closer to the Viceroy and said, “Please assign me an appropriate team to manage the project.” Then, she skirted around him and called for Ashe.

Ashe bowed to the Viceroy, not daring to look at his face, and fell in line behind her. They were quiet for some time as they meandered.

“Well, that was exciting,” said the professor.

“Certainly,” Ashe responded, lips quivering, trying not to smile. 

Then he made eye contact with the professor and they both burst out laughing.

“Well, I’m glad they’re not dead,” said Parvati.

Ashe nodded. Then, he admitted, “You were terrifying!”

Parvati chuckled. “Was I?” 

Ashe nodded. “I thought I was terrified of the Viceroy, but…” He was still reeling. “Standing up to the Viceroy! And—” he dropped into a whisper, “—did you just call the Prince—” He didn’t dare to repeat it. 

Parvati chuckled. “Hmm. I wonder…if I was anything like my mother…”

Ashe shook his head, amazed. “You were very cool, Professor.”

“Aww,” said Parvati. “Well, you know what, kid? I think you’re cool too. If I could have a kid, I’d like to have a kid like you.”

Ashe beamed. 


It had been a while since Shamir had seen the others. Catherine and Professor Manuela had departed with Professor Byleth and the Black Eagles to take care of what was being coined the Lonato Rebellion a while ago. Then she herself had been deployed to take the Blue Lions out on mission. 

It didn’t take long for her to realize that when she returned, something was different. One lunch, she saw Catherine look uncharacteristically away as Parvati walked towards them. Shamir nodded at the professor and waited for her to pass, then asked Catherine, “What’s happening between you two?”

Alois answered, “They are quarreling.”

“But you’re supposed to be friends,” said Shamir.

“That’s why they’re quarreling.”

“Alois, shut up,” growled Catherine. 

Shamir eyed the Prime Knight quietly. 

Two days later, Shamir realized Seteth was also avoiding Parvati. Shamir gathered him and Catherine into his office to confront them.

“All right, what’s happening here?” Shamir asked, looking from Seteth to Catherine. They walked with personal thunderclouds as of late.

Seteth told her about the race at the switchbacks. He just got to the part where he had reprimanded the professor when Shamir cut in.

“So then you publicly upbraided her?” Shamir said. “In front of her students?” She crossed her arms. “She’s a lauded professor. I can’t imagine she has ever been yelled at by a boss, much less in front of her students.”

“I know,” Seteth groaned. “I have already heard it from Hanneman. I have tried to apologize, but she has only said, ‘So it’s Professor Parvati now? Oh, Viceroy. How kind of you to remember me.’ Now she refuses to come to lessons when I teach the Blue Lions…says she’ll find someone else to teach her to fly.”

“Blue Lions class?” asked Catherine, stiffening.

“Yes. I am teaching them to fly wyverns starting tomorrow.”

“She’s replacing me with you?”

The two looked at Catherine. 

Shamir said, “What are you talking about?”

When Catherine explained her story, Shamir snapped at her too. “You had a philosophical difference, and then you just quit?” 

“I didn’t quit!” Catherine said.

Shamir ignored her and looked at Seteth. “This was a mistake. Nothing Parvati did was wrong or unexpected. She’s a civilian — one that you put in this position. Never hire a non-soldier again. Why did you put her in charge of the Blue Lions?”

Thankfully for Seteth, he didn’t have to respond because Catherine still had a bone to pick. “She’s replacing me already. Shamir, you should quit.”

Shamir leveled her with a look. “I should what?”

“Out of solidarity.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Seteth stepped in. “Catherine, your frustration at Parvati is not to affect our students.”

“You’re both being ridiculous,” said Shamir. “Now get your act together, both of you. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Wait, I didn’t finish telling you what happened,” Seteth protested. 

“I don’t care. Figure it out. Whatever you’re doing right now isn’t working.” 

And then she left.

“She’s obnoxious!” said Catherine, still hung up on the Blue Lions Premier. “Naive! Ludicrous! Emotional!”

“And stubborn,” Seteth contributed. 

They both looked at each other, then sighed in unison.


“Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?” Parvati posed to the Blue Lions during Advisory. 

The kids looked at each other. 

“Maybe good news?” said Mercedes. 

Parvati announced, “I’ve acquired for you a wyvern-riding instructor!” 

“I refuse,” said somebody.

Parvati blinked. This was the good news. Who just said no?

“But you have to,” she said, trying to lure out…

“No,” said Dedue. “My feet are not leaving the ground.”

“That,” said Felix, “is officially the most words I have ever heard from Dedue.”

Parvati saw the look in Dedue’s eyes and decided, “Very well. Dedue is the only exception. Everyone else, get going! Seteth expects you in ten minutes.”

“So what’s the bad news?” asked Sylvain. “Is it Seteth?”

“Why?” asked Annette. “What’s wrong with the Viceroy?”

Ingrid raised her hand. “Professor, can I skip this lesson? I already know how to fly.”

Parvati had not had her coffee yet. She was having a hard time keeping up with all these students. She would have let Ingrid off if she hadn’t just said Dedue was the only exception, so instead, Parvati said, “I was hoping to nominate you to Seteth. I heard you are the fastest riding anything. With your help, the Blue Lions will be up and flying swiftly.”

Ingrid took the bait. She gave Parvati a smile. 

Nice, thought Parvati. Note to self: make sure to ‘nominate’ Ingrid more often.

“So what’s the bad news?” asked Sylvain.

Parvati wanted to facepalm. Seteth was the good news eighteen hours ago. If they thought Seteth was bad news… She said, “Catherine will no longer be teaching.”

“What?” said Felix, like the sky was falling around him.

“It isn’t too surprising, is it?” said Annette. “She did say she might only teach us for a month.”

“Does that mean we’re losing Shamir?” asked Ashe.

Parvati shook her head. “That’s uncertain. But it’s now five minutes from when you should meet up with Seteth, so — ” She waved the kids along. “Shoo! Shoo! Be on your way.”

As everyone started packing their things, Ashe asked, “But what about you, Professor?”

“What about me?”

“Aren’t you coming to learn as well?”

“Oh!” Parvati batted a hand. “I’m no warrior.”

“But you liked flying. You don’t have to be a warrior to enjoy it.”

“I have enjoyed enough,” Parvati muttered as she too began packing her things.

“But this whole thing started because Seteth was teaching you, remember?” Ashe pressed on. “Because of Flayn — ouch!”

Sylvain had kicked him under the table. Parvati sent him a glance of acknowledgement.

“What happened with Flayn?” asked Annette.

“Class dismissed,” announced Parvati. 


“Dedue!” Parvati called out. He turned, waiting for her. “We’ll do our one-on-ones while the others are at their lessons,” she announced to him. They had never done a one-on-one, as both he and Prince Dimitri already spent plenty of time two-on-one with her. It occurred to her she had been curious as to who Dedue was. She had been so excited to meet him that first day…

Well…perhaps a new start…

“Care to take a walk?” asked Parvati.

He looked around. “Professor… I do not think this is wise.”

Parvati tilted her head. “What?”

“It might not be safe to walk with me,” said Dedue. 

The fire that lit in center of her stomach woke her up. How could she have let this happen? The Seirosi faith epicenter featured a substantial population of Faerghusi worshippers: a solid forty percent. Parvati’s elevated professor status shielded her from having to deal with them, but, Dedue… Did she really let Dedue slip through her fingers? She explicitly promised herself she would take care of him, before coming here. Before she knew him, before he came paired with the Prince, she had vowed…

In the distance, her eyes landed on Hubert and Bernadetta talking with each other. 

“Is that why you are in the gardens all the time?” she asked him. The gardener was a lovely couple from the Alliance. “Is that the only place you feel…you can let down your guard?”

Parvati was accustomed to Dedue’s silence, so she thought he wouldn’t respond, but he gave an affirmative “Hmm.”

Parvati almost laughed. Here she was thinking he was in the gardens because he liked gardening. A lot of students thought so as well. Where would he have been if this school had been in Adrestia, where he could have walked with no concern? 

“You’re going to walk with me now,” she decided. She’d walk him through all of the places he deserved to enjoy.  And then in Bangala, the language of South Duscur, she asked, “How are you, Devdas?” He looked hesitant, and she remembered he had a North Duscuri accent, so she repeated, “Kaise ho tum?”

This time, he took her cue, speaking the Hinidi, the North Duscuri language instead. He told her he was fine. She was relieved that he even responded. 

She walked them to the dining hall—Parvati needed her coffee. Now she noticed, staff looked up at them as they passed. 

She continued speaking in the Duscuri language. “Eating well? Sleeping well? Do these people give you problems?”

He paused. 

She looked up from the coffee she was pouring. 

He said, “I apologize. It has been a long time.” He was having a hard time retrieving his Duscuri words.

“We’ll ease you into it,” she said. “It takes time. I will need that time as well.” She explained North Duscuri was her fourth language. She searched the coffee table. He asked her what she was looking for, then moved a flask with a silver handle over to her. 

Dedue said, “I eat. I sleep. I am accustomed to dealing with problems.” When he saw a smile creep onto Parvati’s face, he said, “What?”

“You are as brief in Hinidi as in you are in Common,” she laughed quietly. “Pass the honey.”

One of the staff members, one of the blonde twins with her hair in the bun, was coming their way. Parvati turned her attention to pouring the honey into her coffee so she can stop having to match eyes with her. 

“Professor,” came a voice behind her. “Can you pass me the honey jar?”

It was Edelgard, standing with her own cup of coffee at the table beside her. Behind her, Hubert was nursing his coffee black. Parvati bowed to them, then she slid the honey jar her way. 

“Oh! Lady Edelgard!” said the staff woman. “Hold on, I’ll get you another one!” She rushed past Dedue and Parvati and Edelgard and Hubert, over to the right side of the table, and proffered the other jar of honey from there.

Edelgard took the jar out of her hands, confused. She put her cup down and started looking for a spoon. Then the staff woman leaned across the table and grasped the flask of almond milk Parvati had just used. She walked it over the corner, and turned it upside down over the trash. The lid flipped open as out poured a full two-thirds of a flask worth of almond milk. 

Parvati cried out and exchanged a befuddled glance with Edelgard.

The woman scuttled back to Lady Edelgard and bowed, looking apologetic. With a reassuring smile, she said, “Do not worry. We’ll replace anything that has been soiled right away.”

Lady Edelgard blinked, perplexed, as Parvati’s eyes widened. Soiled. As the woman reached for the honey jar Parvati had used, Parvati slid it back out of her reach. 

“Everything?” challenged Parvati, looking into the woman’s green eyes. “You’ll replace — everything?” She could hear the blood rush in like fire roaring in her hears.

Before the woman can say more, Parvati attacked the coffee table. She ran both hands down the sides of the column of ceramic cups. She grabbed all of the stirring spoons into her left hand and flexed them into one bunch — had to get her palms into contact. They clinked against the ceramic cylindrical container when she dropped them in favor of the milk jug, the sugar pot, the orange juice, and she almost got her hands on the apple juice, but the woman shrieked and seized it away, out of Parvati’s reach. 

“Oh no! You’ll have to replace the tablecloths!” Parvati said, running her hands on it back and forth. “In fact! You’ll have to replace the table!” She dropped down to her haunches and gave the underside of the table a slap. As she jumped out of the squat and into a stand, she saw that Edelgard, the woman, and Dedue were watching her, all of their eyes wide. What would she do next? What was she going to do? She was going crazy. What was she going to do?

Parvati turned on her heel, came face-to-face with Hubert. Behind him, past the lake-facing entrance of the dining hall, was the table with all of the rest of the utensils for lunch. She looked at Hubert and declared, “This Monastery will have no spoons.” His eyebrows popped up. She walked around him, making a beeline for the table, still saying, “This Monastery will have no spoons!”  

Except she was shouting, and she wasn’t hearing herself, and she wasn’t hearing anybody else. Her hand reached out for the spoons. They didn’t reach the spoons because something else caught her other hand. Something strong clasped her wrist, and she looked back, and it was Dedue hauling her away, towards the exit, out the door, the sounds of the dining hall falling away as they stepped into the cold, and it wasn’t until Dedue had dragged her down the steps and past the Entrance Hall and past the Knight’s Hall that he dropped her wrist. 

Parvati came awake when he dropped that wrist. “Dedue!”

He looked at her. 

“I went…momentarily insane,” she marveled. She had never done that before.

He held something out to her. “Here.”

When she saw what he was holding, she laughed. “Is this my coffee?”

“Yes.”

She accepted it and took a sip. “Mmmm. Almond-milk coffee.”

“With honey,” he reminded her.

“With honey,” she nodded gravely. When she looked up, Dedue’s shoulders were shaking. 

He was laughing silently. “No more spoons, Professor.” 

She nodded. “No more spoons.” 


In less than an hour, Parvati’s Attack On Spoons became legend. Until then, however, Parvati brought Dedue into her apartment again. It didn’t feel safe to stand outside. And she didn’t want to let him out of her sight either. Where would he be safe, without her? Not that he was safe with her either, apparently. Where was he safe except beside the Prince of Faerghus?

“Come. Sit down,” she said, pulling a chair out of the table for him. The parakeets squeaked, surprised to see her early. She blew a kiss at them, then said, “Dedue, tell me about your family.”

He asked, “Why? Duscur is a ruin.”

Parvati stopped. “Excuse you?”

She could see he was a deer caught in a hunter’s trap as he was recalculating. It had apparently been an automatic response, one that had worked for years for him.

“What do you think you are,  Faerghusi?” she snapped. 

The air filled with parakeet chirps. 

Parvati sighed and looked away when she saw the look on Dedue’s face: startled. He didn’t deserve it. She knew what she was seeing in him: a hatred for his own country inserted by Faerghus. It’s what people had been telling him for years. Those people — had warped him. They had done this to him. He had much to unlearn. There was much to undo. He didn’t need to be attacked by her too, even if what he said had hurt her.

 

She couldn’t say sorry, though, so she went into the kitchen. The saucepan she pulled out of the cupboards landed on the stove with a bang. She winced. No doubt Dedue would think she was still mad. His voice remained ringing in her head. Duscur is a ruin. She needed to wash this pan. She picked up the pan and pointed Dedue to sit at the table again. 

He misunderstood and came forward and took the saucepan.

“What are you doing?” asked Parvati. 

“Did you want me to wash it?”

Parvati blinked. “Okay.”

She started looking for the masala chai. It wasn’t her preference. The South Duscuri liked their chai with milk, but she imagined a North Duscuri preparation would appeal to him. In any case, Randolph had gotten her this pouch of North Duscuri chai, in his sweetness and ignorance, and she couldn’t imagine a better way to use it.

“Well?” said Parvati, prompting him to start again. “Tell me about them.”

She listened to the sound of water as he rinsed the saucepan. He placed it on a lit stove to dry. He started telling her about his father and mother. He told her he had a sister. He said his was the town for smithing. 

She asked, “Phulganj?”

“That very one. Have you been?”

“Ah! Here it is!” Parvati pulled out the pouch Randolph had brought her from her pantry. She held it out for Dedue to see. “Would you like this?” 

His eyes lit up with recognition. He took it off her hands to examine it. She smiled. He said, “Ginger.”

“Oh,” said Parvati. “You sit down. I can’t let my maheman make chai at my place!”

“I know how to make chai. I will make it like my mother’s.”

Parvati considered. Then shrugged. Her parents would be aghast at her letting a guest preparing the food for himself, but… “You just want ginger?”

“Aur laung. Aur elaichi.” 

Parvati nodded. She got out the cloves and cardamom. She enjoyed listening to Dedue speak. Now that Hinidi was coming back to him, he sounded so different. He spoke faster, with a wider tonal range…and his voice literally went up in pitch. Pitch often correlated with the perception of mood and happiness — higher usually happier and more eager — so by changing language alone, Dedue sounded happier. He went from being very somber and serious to sounding like someone who was looking forward to something. It was amazing how people changed voices and tonality.

Or, thought Parvati, watching him grate the ginger over her cutting board, it’s because he is happier. 

Dedue asked for black pepper. Parvati gave him a look. “Black pepper?” she said.

“Haan,” he said. Yes.

She pointed at the cupboard next to his head. There, he also found the mortar and pestle. He put the cardamom, cloves and black pepper in the mortar. At every step, he seemed to remember something. Now he said, “Cinnamon.”

“Oh,” said Parvati. “I do not have any cinnamon.”

He looked dumbfounded. “You don’t like it?”

“I have not yet acquired it.”

“Ah.” He looked at the mortar. “Then it will not be like hers…”

There was a swoop of feeling in Parvati. How long must it have been since he’d had his mother’s chai? Years. At least five.

She put a hand on his arm. “That’s okay,” she said.“Next time, it will be.”

He looked at her. “Next time you will have cinnamon.”

She nodded. “And anything else you remember. Just tell me.”

Dedue smiled. 

Chapter 39: St. Cichol and His Very Very Long Day

Summary:

Lady Edelgard has a proposition.

Chapter Text

“How are we doing this two days in a row, Parvati?” her boss asked her in his office after Ancient Technology that day.

Parvati sat with her hands resting one atop the other as Seteth stared at her, baffled. He said, “Parvati, what is the meaning of this?”

Parvati sighed. He may have forgotten to address her as ‘Professor’ once again, but she wasn’t even mad at him anymore. She had just given up trying to clear her name to her boss. She was getting the sense that she was the problem child, something she’d never been before. Oh, she had been a problem child to her parents — a child with one problem…or two or three. But she had never been the problem child, even as the only child of her parents. 

So she was going to sit this one out. She was going shut her mouth, because who knew what she would say if she opened it now. Just take the lecture, get out fast. That was her plan.

But then he asked her with a straight face, “Why are you threatening the Monastery spoons?” 

Parvati lost it. It started out a quiet laugh, something she tried to cover as a cough in her throat. But then she couldn’t stop it. She just couldn’t. Seteth stared at her and shook his head. “Parvati, you are putting me in challenging positions. Can we be serious?”

There was a knock on the door. Seteth raised a hand from where he sat. Parvati heard the click of the door unlock. She looked over her shoulder. The doorknob turned and the door opened on its own. 

She looked back at her boss. “You know magic?”

“I know a thing or two,” he said as he looked at who had come in. “Lady Edelgard, how may I help you?” 

Parvati looked at the Princess.

“I am in the middle of something,” said Seteth. “Is this not something I can address in a few minutes?”

Edelgard shook her head and led Hubert in. “I believe you are talking to Professor Parvati because of what happened in the dining hall this morning?”

He said, “I am.”

“Then I believe I have important information for you to consider, alongside whatever rumors or tales you have so far been provided.”

Parvati stood up. “Lady Edelgard…”

Edelgard said, “Hubert and I were witnesses. Surely you have questions you’d like to ask us.”

“Very well,” said Seteth. “Parvati? Would you please wait outside?”

“No, Viceroy, I would like Professor Parvati to be present for this,” Edelgard insisted.

Parvati wanted very much to be outside. This was going to be embarrassing. She didn’t allow herself to think about it before…but, in front of the future emperor, she had acted like a crazy person. Now she was going to hear her recount it…

“I am quite astonished at what I saw today,” Edelgard started. She explained to Seteth what transpired, then turned to Parvati. “I am sorry I did not say anything, Professor. I admit, I did not understand what was happening as it happened. I had heard of that blatant racism, the kind I’ve only heard happens in Faerghus, but I had never seen in my life. Henceforth, I will be more prepared.”

Parvati couldn’t formulate thoughts. She said,  “I… You have nothing to apologize for.”

Then Edelgard said, “I would also like to make an appeal. Viceroy Seteth, I would like to make a case for a trade in professors. I would like to take Professor Parvati from the Blue Lions. It is no secret that those of Faerghus are more likely to mistreat her. I can protect her, but I cannot do so as easily if she is not my own instructor. I have already discussed this with Professor Manuela — or rather, Professor Manuela requested this of me, weeks ago.”

Parvati’s brows lifted. “Manuela did?”

Edelgard nodded. “She was the one who taught me to recognize your suffering, as well as the rest of the Black Eagles.”

Parvati blinked away tears. Edelgard was on her side. And Manuela had always been. 

But what about Seteth? Her own boss, who had the ability to make her life hell if he disagreed with Edelgard’s sentiment…the person Parvati herself did not say anything to regarding anything she faced of this nature at Garreg Mach because…

Because it would make me the problem child, the thought rang through her head. If she required special attention because of the way people were treating her—if she needed changes no one else needed because there was hardly anyone else with her skin color…

The Viceroy had a severe look on his face as he regarded her. He said, “Professor Parvati, were you going to tell me this?”

She could feel all their eyes on her. She shook her head. Lady Edelgard’s eyes widened. 

Seteth sighed. “Manuela was right.” He stood up. “Thank you for the clarity, Lady Edelgard. You’ve shed a great light on this. I have, in fact, already seen some of this. Ever since the first week of school this year, Manuela had been keeping me abreast of things…as she had recognized too that Professor Parvati would be quite unlikely to tell me.”

Parvati flushed. Manuela had told him? Manuela had been telling him? What had she told him? Had she told him everything?

It had started with Parvati bemoaning to Manuela that she greatly dreaded when all three Houses left for battle. On that day, Parvati had let Manuela in on a secret—on the other side of the fishing pond, past the waterfall, there were places behind the forlorn crates where they could meet in private, get away from the world. It was a hot day, and sunny, so Parvati let herself slide down onto her back, her legs crossed at the ankles as she watched white clouds disappear behind the water duct above her, and then peek back out on the other side. She realized there were little drops of water forming into little beads on the underside. One of them landed on her forehead. She wiped it, and gave a contented sigh.

“This might be our only chance for calm,” she had said to Manuela. “With all the kids gone. Maybe we should make it a habit of sending the kids away. Make them the Knights’ problem. Now we can hear ourselves think!” 

Manuela lay down on the cool grass beside her and said, “Actually, I think Hanneman and I are supposed to go too.”

“You’re supposed to what?”

“Since we are combat instructors. We get sent out with the kids, usually.”

Parvati turned to her side to face her. “Wait, you mean then I’d just be here all alone?”

Manuela nodded. “Today, this time around was different, since they had so many Knights. Catherine. Shamir. Alois. Such accomplished people.”

Parvati lay back again with a less content sigh. “What am I supposed to do all alone?” She put her arms underneath her head to provide a cushion from how hard the stone was. “Well, I guess I have my research, but I don’t like to do it alone. I only do that when I need to be.”

“Your research?”

“Being alone.” 

They watched the clouds above, and the sun sparkling in between the leaves of the trees overhead. 

“I have bad thoughts when I’m alone,” Parvati said. “That’s why I don’t…let myself…”

Manuela turned her head, her earring clinking against stone as she looked at Parvati. “What…kinds of thoughts?”

“…A lot of kinds.” 

Manuela looked back up to the sky. They were quiet for a while. She looked out through the waterfall, to find Flayn fishing again. Flayn’s form was a wiggling black shape that writhed in the falling water, like a fish, but there was no mistaking the streaks of green.

“I guess I will be hanging out in the market a lot, when everyone goes out to battle.”

“And why is that?”

“Because…I can’t hide my skin color, no matter what,” Parvati said. She told Manuela she could feel it, on the second floor, every time she walked down the hall.

“Wow…I had no idea.”

In retrospect, it was the same thing Dedue did—but how oppositely they handled it as an extrovert and an introvert, Dedue retreating to the gardens, Parvati retreating to the markets. 

“Well…you have an idea now,” said Parvati. “That’s why the market will probably be where I’m hanging out. Everyone treats you nicely when they think there’s money at stake.”

Manuela frowned at the pond. “Are there other things?”

Parvati pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. “Are you sure you want to know? I guarantee you won’t be happy.”

Manuela glanced at her, irritated. “Of course I want to know. I’m your friend.”

Parvati pushed her face into her knees to hide the oversized smile. Then her smile faded. “The dining hall is actually the biggest…” She couldn’t find the word for it and sighed. “You know how we can order food for takeout? We can have the dining staff deliver it to you?”

“Why, yes, it’s so convenient, when I don’t want to go outside. Like when it rains,” said Manuela. “It always rains,” she added under her breath. 

Parvati nodded. “I don’t order takeout anymore. The first time it came to my room, it was beef.”

Manuela frowned at her. “Are you serious?”

Parvati nodded. “And you’ll note, I obviously did not order a food item with beef.” She gritted her teeth. “Another thing they did — you know those two ladies, those twins? Who always have a bun on their head?”

Manuela nodded, bracing herself to get angry again. 

“Well…one time, I came into the hall late. They told me the kitchens had closed. I think it was like 10 p.m.” 

“They don’t close until 11.”

“I know,” said Parvati. “I found out when Seteth came in and started ordering. So I ordered right after him. I had to make sure they knew someone else was listening.”

Manuela switched the way she was sitting. Her foot was falling asleep. Then she said, “Wait. So you mean — if all of us get deployed for battle later on, they won’t even let you eat?” 

Parvati’s eyes went wide. She rested her chin on her knee. “I didn’t think about it that way.”

“Have you told Seteth?”

Parvati scoffed. “I’m not telling Seteth these things.”

“But — what? Why not?”

Parvati shook her head. “You can’t just make this many problems for the boss. He’ll feel like I’m always just — coming with problems. I’m not even a combat professor, so I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t want to attract attention.”

“Wait, are you hearing yourself? You can’t even walk through these halls, or eat!” 

“Oh! Remember the orientation dinner?”

Manuela shook her head. “You know I don’t remember anything from that.”

Which made sense. She was blackout drunk.

Parvati said, “Oh,” and shifted positions, getting to her feet to shake her legs out and roll her shoulders. “Well, in my dinner that day, there seemed to be a centipede.”

“There was a what?” Manuela gasped. 

Parvati nodded. “I’m glad I ate so many appetizers instead. The dessert came out without a lid, so I knew they weren’t going to try putting something else in there.”

Manuela frowned. “How do you know somebody put it there?”

“Because…it happened again.”

Manuela got to her feet as well. “Are you serious? A centipede! The thing with — all those legs!”

Parvati nodded. “Those very ones.” She crossed her arms. “I wonder what Dedue is facing. Look at me. I may be brown, but I’m tiny. And I’m female. I look relatively harmless. If there’s one person who faces things like this the worst — ”

“Is Dedue,” Manuela finished. She looked away from Parvati. “I admit, I do avoid him.”

“Probably everyone does. He’s so big. And scary. That’s what everybody thinks.” Parvati sighed and started walking to the infirmary. “Except nobody says that about Raphael, and he’s even bigger. And louder.” 

“Parvati…”

“Dedue’s such a gentle soul, from what I’ve seen. He’s got a wonderful voice. It’s so soothing…” said Parvati. And then, she couldn’t help resentfully add, “When he isn’t saying something stupid.”

They walked around the infirmary, a building three times the size of the greenhouse and almost as wide as the student dorms. “I hope I never get to see this place packed.”

Manuela had to head out after that, though Parvati recalled her walking back to the monastery first. Was that when Manuela first went to talk to Seteth?

Now, the Viceroy said, “I will personally involve myself in preventing Professor Parvati from being mistreated by our staff. The Officer’s Academy is a world-class institution that relies on diversity both for the input and the output of its world-class education. We will brook no discrimination here based on race nor religion. Parvati, I vow to make Officer’s Academy a better place for you.”

Parvati blinked. She hadn’t been expecting a pledge, and she had a hard time believing he could do much at an institution where the largest supporters of his Church was Faerghus. So, she didn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe in such pledge until she saw evidence.

In fact, something else planted a seed of resentment and suspicion. The day he himself had declared her the Blue Lions head, she had protested. Hanneman protested. Manuela protested. Now that the Officer’s Academy and the Church needed to save face in front of the future Emperor, now he was saying this? 

These dark thoughts planted themselves into her heart, and rooted deep.

Then, Seteth bowed to her. Parvati gasped. He said, “Apologies for my extended silence. Manuela had urged me to remain quiet, and we have been looking for an actionable incident. Thanks to Lady Edelgard’s testimony, we finally have one. You can be rest assured that I will act upon this right away. As I do so, I also need you to take a vow.”

Parvati hesitated. “What is it?”

“When anything happens, if anything happens of this nature, you must inform me. I can neither protect you nor the quality of this institution if I am not aware of these things. Professor Parvati, will you do that?”  

She nodded mutely.

The Viceroy turned to Lady Edelgard next. “As for your second statement, your appeal is declined. It is a fine gesture, and the reasoning and its importance are not lost upon me. Nevertheless, it is declined.”

Parvati felt a crush of frustration and disappointment. Being with the Black Eagles would mean no more nights filling with dread before every homeroom. She could focus her attention on the nobles who would be able to fund her research…since the Faerghusi were not known for being able to fund themselves to begin with. And, were she with Byleth, she could escape her constant search for a combat instructor. No more juggling Catherine, Shamir, and Seteth — and whoever would be next after them. No more unease talking with Felix, Ingrid or Sylvain! Instead, she’d have Petra, Ferdinand and Dorothea! Life would be — just — so much better with them! Maybe she wouldn’t have to hide from herself the fact that so far, she was hating her time at the Officer’s Academy, because, then, maybe she’d stop hating it!

And yet, amidst all of that, there was a spark of relief. A little one. She was…surprised to feel it. She couldn’t imagine how she to begin to explain a transfer to Dimitri and Dedue. 

Dedue…she had been so mad at him earlier, because she had felt betrayed, betrayed that he was serving the Faerghusi agenda. That was before she knew Prince Dimitri was different. But that first day they met, he warned her away from talking to him in order to protect her. It was Dedue who had wrapped Parvati in Dimitri’s cape, that day Parvati and Manuela had gone to the sauna. It was Dedue who had carried Manuela all the way to her apartments, with no stop — and before that, he had intercepted Sylvain’s attempt! It was Dedue who braved Manuela’s apartment — without complaint! It was Dedue who had pulled Parvati away from the lunch utensils today, before she made a greater fool of herself. And somehow, in his other hand, he was still holding her coffee! 

He was a gentle giant who was not just protective and aware of his surroundings, but unobtrusively protecting people’s dignities… He did things he didn’t want, without complaint. He would just…Dedue it. And the way she had seen him open up in her apartment when he saw the Hinduskari shrine… He sang hymns of Hinduskar. He made chai. He was a Commander in the Kitchen. That’s when he came alive. It was the first time she’d ever heard him ask for things. It made her happy, today, so happy: Dedue asking for and wanting things.

And Prince Dimitri…inquisitive, earnest, naive, persistent, and so princely she could laugh. He had been surrounded by racists in Fhirdiad. They must have told him so many things, tried to convince him of so many things, but he remained solidly clear-eyed. This was no small thing.

She was learning a lot about herself all of a sudden. When had she stopped hating them? When had she grown…fond? Prince Dimitri was always there, constant and loyal, and Dedue, the shadow who came along. They had had a rough start, but since then…

Lady Edelgard hummed. “Thank you for listening, Viceroy. Do remember, it is always an option.” 

The Viceroy nodded. Again, he remotely unlocked and opened the door. 

Hubert spoke for the first time. He said, “You know magic?” 

Seteth smiled at him. “I know a thing or two.”

Chapter 40: Dragon-Wild

Summary:

I’ll linger in the space between
Your secret thoughts and in your dreams
I’ll drive you through the night, desire
Heeds neither love nor hate, you’ll find

 

You yearning for me, dragon-wild
There’s nothing left inside your mind
So put your hands on —

Chapter Text

When Seteth came out of his office, he was surprised to find Parvati still standing there. She had her arms crossed, looking at the floor.

“You’re still here?” he asked.

His voice seemed to pull her out of a trance. She looked at him without seeing him. “Ah. Sorry. I’m sure you’ve already seen me enough.” She ran a hand over her face. “I need a stiff drink.”

“I do too. The best drinks are at the Inn of Cichol.”

“The Inn of Cichol again. Everything’s at the Inn of Cichol.” She went back to looking at the colored squares on the floor. “But that’s a long way.”

“Not if you ride by wyvern.”

This time she actually saw him when she looked at him. “Is that…an invite?”

Seteth gave a wry smile. “There is a lesson you missed.”

“Hah,” she said tentatively.  “And where is the delineation between boss and not-boss?”

“Stiff drinks.”

This time it was Parvati’s turn to give a wry smile.

Her response was not immediate. It seemed she kept sinking into something thick and deep, like mud, and had to work to resurface again. When she remembered she was talking to him, she uncrossed her arms and came to a decision. “No. I don’t go out with people who yell at me. I have other things I can be doing.”

“I will not yell at you anymore,” said Seteth. Then, to answer her dubious expression, he said, “Please. I promise.”

He’s being stubborn again was what Parvati was thinking. And just like every other time, it was impossible to say no to Seteth and Flayn. Parvati submitted. “Okay. Fine.”

Seteth was unsure if he would actually let her fly, since she was distracted. Twenty minutes later they were flying. Parvati had come to when she saw the wyvern he’d summoned for her, and had taken a little coaxing to get on a wyvern again. She insisted this one was going to eat her, and then use the bones from her rib cage to pick clean its teeth. Seteth wondered if he might have to make sure she didn’t spend time with Bernadetta. If he put the two together, they might make each other worse. Such active imaginations. Such a propensity for dramatics. 

Seteth looked over at Parvati’s technique. He hadn’t been able to see it much last time; he had been focusing on Ashe. Her form was terrible: her shoulders were hunched over, and her back wasn’t straight, but at least her hips were rolling. 

Then he remembered her commentary on his advice: That sounds intensely sexual. …Wait, are wyvern riders good at sex? He tried to shake her voice out of his head, but he couldn’t help remembering what he’d overheard next: How much does a wyvern cost? Should I get one for Randolph? 

Seteth laughed quietly to himself. That’s not appropriate, he admonished himself, but…Catherine would love this morsel of info. He would never be caught doing so directly, but through Catherine, he could use it as a bargaining chip…or blackmail.

Parvati needed to work on her landing. Seteth provided instruction, especially since she was now landing in an area much more populated than the Officer’s Academy barracks. There was a landing pad behind the inn — because of course Seteth would ensure this — and it was occupied by horses and children and cats when he and Parvati arrived. She was still running on adrenaline by the time they walked out of the wind.

“I thought it would eat the cat!” she exclaimed, following him into his establishment. She stopped to take in the dim golden glow, the voice of the inn a hum quiet enough to hear the cut of cutlery.

“Wyverns don’t eat cats,” said the Viceroy. “They’re too small.”

“Do they eat humans?”

The corner of his lips twitched. “You’re too small.”

Parvati looked at him. “Did you just make a joke?” 

As they took seats for drink and dinner, the voice of a seductive songstress curled down from the second floor.

Take me higher, make me fly
Don’t let me be alone
Show me why I’ll love you more
He doesn’t even know 

Who I am

Parvati asked, “How long before it is safe to fly?”

Since alcohol didn’t affect Nabateans much, Seteth was safe to fly any moment, but…he looked at Parvati’s giant glass of sangria. She had just discovered Dagdan drinks. He said, “At least two hours.”  

As they ate, they dropped into silence. If his oldest brother Macuil could see him now, he would say Cichol was clever. Seteth had bought the inn establishment and attached a Garreg Mach discount not to deter drinking, but rather to confine it to a location where he had control. It was the number one off-campus drinking location for Knights of Seiros and the Officer’s Academy faculty. 

More importantly, OA students who came of-age frequented this place. This was exactly what Seteth was going for. The entire staff in this establishment had been carefully curated for Seteth and was all ears. Besides being an obvious intel machine, the inn hosted the brash, bold and young making their first foibles. With all the political ramifications that could follow their youthful mistakes, Seteth was eager to be the first to know, so he could interrupt and correct them. 

Something attracted Parvati’s attention. She chuckled. “Oh wow. Isn’t this the Inn of Cichol? These song lyrics…”

Give me — your touch
Give me — your love
Give me — your soul
I need it

Give me — your mind
Give me — your lies
Make me divine
Concede it

Parvati stared at the salt shaker with intense concentration. “Oooooh boy. I, uhh, ha ha, didn’t anticipate the music to be like this. I thought St. Cichol was a….this-wouldn’t-be-allowed-kind-of-music type of guy.”

“What makes you think that?” asked Seteth.

Parvati saw something in the eye of her mind as she stared at him. “He just…looks like he’s strict and stuffy…” Then she started seeing Seteth. “You have the Crest of Cichol. Does it come with the personality?”

When Seteth said no, her voice was dubious. “I don’t knoooow. I read your book, you know.” Then she started. “Oh my gods!”

“What?”

“Was that a self-insert?”

Seteth blinked, not understanding.

“Your book. Your tales. Of St. Indech. I got it. St. Cichol acts like you. No wonder it was so familiar.” 

The wine was getting to her. Seteth didn’t like her widening grin. 

She said, “That’s the most base level writing, you know that?”

“Excuse me — what?” snapped Seteth.

“Self-inserts. In fan fiction. It’s a thing in Adrestia.” Parvati was so wide-eyed and pleased as she declared, breathless: “Seteth…you are writing religious fan fiction.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are. You really are.” 

He made a dismissive noise and she giggled. “Don’t be mad. I enjoyed it. It was lovely.”

The lyrics of the next song slipped into the silence between them.

I’ll linger in the space between
Your secret thoughts and in your dreams
I’ll drive you through the night, desire
Heeds neither love nor hate, you’ll find

 

You yearning for me, dragon-wild
There’s nothing left inside your mind
So put your hands on —

Parvati laughed nervously over the next lines, clearly recognizing it. “Wow, this song.” 

The songstress swept into the chorus.

You know you want me, you know it’s true
It’s simple, no one else will do
You’ll speak my name into the dawn
For I will have you all night long

I’ll have
You yearning for me, dragon-wild

Parvati drilled holes into her glass with her eyes, then downed the rest of it.

This time, Seteth could feel the heat too. “Apologies. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I forgot she would be here today.”

“She?”

“The singer. Elita. Also from Dagda,” he said, indicating her now empty cup.

She mistook what he was indicating and waved down their server again. “I need another one.”

Seteth’s eyes widened. What was she doing? Did she think he had the whole night to monitor her? Seteth gave the server a shake of his head, giving a discreet order to dilute the alcohol, but the server brought the drink with a smirk. 

Seteth groaned. It was “One-Eye" Manuela.

Not the professor from the Officer’s Academy. This was his manager. His trusted manager. Wearing their Gloucester-violet hair in double-braids behind their Alliance-style bartender uniform, they had a habit of readjusting their bow tie as they regaled customers with stories of how they had lost their eye. Sometimes it was a fishing accident. Other times, it was their sword-swallowing friend. The most illustrative was a story about hunting whales. A little odd, given the Alliance’s land-locked position. Seteth was fairly certain Manuela and their wife had never left Alliance territory prior to coming here.

“Don’t worry. I see everything,” was Manuela’s mantra whenever they found Seteth fretting. Seteth could never tell if they were making a pun, for he’d never heard another come forth from them. But in this recent year, he had wound up in the interesting position where he employed another Manuela, so when the other Manuela came down to get drinks, she got her drinks from Manuela. He sure wished Manuela could see how much Manuela was drinking. But now was not the time to ask.

“You can only have half of that!” Seteth directed as Parvati raised her drink to her lips.

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because you are not Manuela.”

Parvati frowned at her sangria. 

Seteth realized something as he watched Parvati pout: he had already spent the entire day thinking about her. First anticipating if she was coming to the wyvern riding class, then being mad that she didn’t come to the wyvern riding class, then being confounded by the dining hall commotion, and then talking to her and Lady Edelgard… 

When she’d left, he was devising what to do about anti-discrimination…and when he had stepped out of his office… 

He regarded the professor with a glower. How had Parvati started taking over his life?

Parvati set the cup down and intoned, “The days are long here, Seteth. I can’t believe how much happens every day.” 

You are telling me, thought Seteth. In the distance, he could see Manuela passing glances in their direction.

“Seteth…have you ever thought about…Dimitri and Dedue?” asked Parvati. “Like…how do they make sense?”

“Did you mean Prince Dimitri?”

Parvati gave him a sullen look. “No. I mean Dimitri the boy. We are all people, all human beings, before we are what other people need us to be.”

Seteth mulled the sentence over. “We are all human…before we are what others need us to be. Very poetic, Professor. I’m almost inspired to put it in a book.”

“Almost?” Parvati scoffed and went back to sipping her drink. Her drink made her unhesitant as she said, “Seteth. What do you know about genocide?”

That was a blindside. Seteth was quiet for a long time. She watched him. This was rare, given she had thus far spent her time looking at the wall or decor or the table. He was being tested. 

Seteth called back Manuela and ordered himself another drink to make the nosy, lingering bartender go away. Then he turned to Parvati. He said, “I know enough.”

She looked away, and he could see she was closing. 

The memories were still brilliant in his mind’s eye. A Titanus, wielding a bridge-sized sword, hammering a wyvern like winged fruit. To be splattered. It was always seeing you, always seeing everything through those mechanical blue eyes, in its arms, in its shoulders, in its knees, on the back of its head, behind the ankles…embedded in the flesh of something not human. And then, over the shoulder of the mountain, in the direction of Ailell, the flash of lights. Two of them. Indech turning him onto his side, saying, “Don’t look! In the aftermath, you will be blind.” 

They weren’t blind. They were deaf, for hours. Just the ringing in his ears, and the bleeding in his side.

Seiros was crying. They were too late. The first words he had been able to hear were: “The Children of the Goddess are dying.” 

This wasn’t true, Cichol had learned when he’d come to. They were dragging him up, Macuil and Cethleann, one under each arm as they crested the mountain. Then they saw the other side. 

Everything was fire on the other side. The valley was now a deeper valley. The home they once knew no longer existed.

The Children of the Goddess weren’t dying. The Children of the Goddess were dead.

“Here,” said Manuela, shocking Seteth out of memory as they placed his drink in front of him. Part Brigid coffee liqueur, part Leceister cream, part whiskey, they named it the Seteth Special because he had been too embarrassed by the Duck Fart Shot, its actual name.

He waited for them to be out of earshot, then looked at Parvati. “I know what it feels like to be prey.”

“Hmph,” said Parvati. “Very poetic, Viceroy. I’m almost inspired to put it in a book.”

Seteth was reminded she was a writer too, albeit of very different things. He hadn’t actually read anything between the covers of her books. 

“Do you know what the three of us have in common, Viceroy? Dimitri, me and Dedue?”

“The Tragedy of Duscur,” said Seteth.

Parvati nodded. “It’s how all three of us were orphaned. That’s what I have been thinking about. Being orphans.” ” She rolled the red drink in her cup around and around, then shook her head. “It’s messed up. Dimitri and Dedue, as a duo — it’s wrong. One the prince of the land that committed genocide on the other…and the other… Now, the victim of the genocide does the bidding of the prince? It’s disgusting.”

Seteth let the burn of the whiskey linger in his throat. Elita had moved on to another song.

Why don’t we risk it all and let them call us fools 

For the peace you bring to me I will risk ruin

You make me believe there is more to believe in 

“That’s what I used to think,” said Parvati. 

“Used to?”

“I heard…when they came to kill Dedue…Dimitri jumped in the way.”

Seteth raised his brows. 

“Dimitri still has the marks on his back,” said Parvati. “So Dimitri saved him. So now, Dimitri — wait, no, no, Dedue — ” She was getting names mixed up in her head now. “Dedue pledged Dimitri the rest of his life.” 

“A life for a life?”

“It is not a life for a life!” burst Parvati. 

Seteth looked over his shoulder. Patrons from other tables were looking their way. Parvati noticed them too and apologized, quieting down.

She whispered, “It is not. That — ugh! — it’s faulty — logic. It is not true! You do not reward someone for doing a bad thing. Or, wait, no, for not doing a bad thing. Let me revise my statement.” She stopped, took a deep breath, and tried again. “You do not reward someone for not doing a bad thing. …Did I say that right? Okay…I said that right.” Parvati nodded to herself.

Seteth was impressed by her insistence to discuss this like a proof, but also, he was regretting everything. “You do not need this,” he said, pulling away her drink.

“No, that’s miiiiiine!” Parvati protested. She grabbed for her drink, missed, and gave up, resentfully stabbing an olive on her plate with a fork. She had been setting olives aside throughout her seafood dinner, and now she waved one around at Seteth as she was motioning. 

“This is what is happening,” she said. “Want to hear my analysis? You’re going to hear my analysis of Dedue and the Prince. Sounds like a children’s storybook! Dedue and the Prince!” 

Seteth watched her take a drink of water. There was no way he was going to get anything coherent out of her anymore, but she was trying. 

“So, like…everybody’s dead. Like, his mom, and, his dad, and, his sister. I think Dedue said he had a sister. And…when all of this was happening…the only people who were alive…were the people…who were killing everybody. So now…Dimitri…saves his life…aaaaand…the only way for Dedue to survive…is to hang on…to the only thing…that gives him a chance…to survive.”

“Stop waving that olive around,” said Seteth.

“So he kissed up to the Prince,” she said matter-of-factly. “He needed to. It was the only way he would survive. So. He made it. He survived, directly, the program.”

“Pogrom,” Seteth corrected. 

“Progrom.”

“Never mind.”

“So congratulations!” Parvait went on, sarcastic. “You survived. I mean Dedue survived. And then — what he didn’t anticipate — what I don’t think anyone anticipated — somehow, Dimitri took him back to Fhirdiad. Like, I don’t know, I’m doing guesswork here, but that’s what happened, because, for a couple of years, they just lived in the castle together, with just, nobody else. Like, for years.”

Seteth scowled. “What?”

“No no no. I’m not — explaining it right. Dedue explained it to me. You know, while you were, flying the kids?”

He couldn’t stop looking at the olive at the end of her fork. “Please eat that olive.”

“I…hate olives!” She ate it.

Seteth could finally relax. “They were in a castle?”

“This is why I was talking about orphans,” she said. “I mean, there were people in the castle, but Dedue said — Rufus, his uncle, who is Regent right now — Dimitri’s uncle, not Dedue’s uncle — ”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“So Rufus was worried people thought he was trying to assassinate him. Assassinate his brother. Do you know what I’m talking about?” Parvati could see the confusion build up on Seteth’s face.

“The Regent of Faerghus…” started Seteth.

“Was afraid people would think he would try to kill Dimitri,” said Parvati, “because there were rumors he killed his brother…”

“…who was Dimitri’s father,” Seteth nodded, picking up what she had meant. 

“And Dimitri and Dedue were at Fraldarius — um…Duke Rodrigue…took care of him for a little bit. But after that, they went back to Fhirdi… Fhirdi… Fhirdi…” She was looking for the name.

“Fhirdiad?” provided Seteth. 

“ — That — capital — place — ”

“Why did you pick up another olive?” demanded Seteth. She had speared another with her fork and had gone back to waving it in his face again.

“I hate olives,” she said, shrugging, as if that was an explanation.

Seteth pulled her plate away, and the other six olives with it. It was collected by a passing server.

“But then they were alone,” she told Seteth. “It’s. So. Sad. There was nobody taking care of them. I mean there were servants. And still, Dedue was treated bad. But…they didn’t have parents to take care of them. There weren’t people who took them under their wing, because who could, when he’s the prince?”

“Eat the olive, Parvati. Eat. The olive.”

She ate the olive. She made a face. 

What was she expecting? wondered Seteth, incredulous. Why was she expecting something different? He started laughing. 

“It’s not funny,” said Parvati with a strange look on her face. 

He kept laughing.

“They had no parents! No one was taking care of them!” said Parvati, looking astonished at him.

Seteth cleared his throat. “You’re right. It’s not funny.” His lips twitched though.

Parvati leered at him suspiciously, then sighed. “I think I am growing fond of them…the more I get to know them…and I finally know why they are important.”

“Because one is the future King of Faerghus?”

“No, to each other, I mean. Now I know why they are so important. I don’t… I don’t understand why Dedue stays with him, but I understand them being each other’s only friend.”

Seteth shook his head. “Not everything humans do makes sense.”

Parvati looked at him, tilting her head, and said, “No. No, wait, I forgot to say…the thing he didn’t anticipate…Dedue didn’t know Dimitri would take him to Faerghus…and then when he got to Faerghus…he went from a dangerous place, which was his home being ransacked, to — the — capital — of the country that attacked Duscur. So that means he was permanently surrounded by hostile people. So he — he has to keep a low profile at all times, because he is so big, he is hyper-visible, and…he’s always trying to be invisible for his own safety. And what better way to be invisible…than to be next to someone so visible.” 

Seteth put a hand on his chin, testing it aloud as he said, “The only person more visible than Dedue…is Prince Dimitri.” That was a good point. Despite his preoccupation with the olives, Parvati had been making astute observations the whole time. He was wrong. She had been surprisingly coherent as she drank. Her logical faculties kept working, though she stumbled over explaining them. The more he thought about it, the more he was astounded. 

So then, what she was implying was: 

As much as Dedue was Prince Dimitri’s shield…Prince Dimitri was Dedue’s shield even more.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” said Seteth. 

“And that is my Dedue analysis.” She mimicked a bow.

Seteth mimicked his reserved clapping. 

Whatever he was about to say was lost to another voice.

“Seteth! Parvati! What are you two doing here?”

The other Manuela had arrived. 

Chapter 41: The Lotus

Chapter Text

“Seteth! Parvati! What are you two doing here?” Manuela said. She looked at the cup of sangria at Seteth’s elbow. “Seteth! Is that you drinking?” 

“Manuela!” said Seteth. “It’s a little late for you to be down here, is it not?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

Parvati hopped up and surrendered her seat to Manuela, retrieving an empty chair from another table. Seteth explained that he didn’t think it safe for Manuela go back up the switchbacks alone after dark. Manuela glowered. “Oh, posh, what do you think I am, fourteen? I was here on a date.”

Of course she was, Seteth thought, realizing she hadn’t had intentions of coming back. He was afraid to ask… “How did it go?”

“Not well, obviously, since I am looking at your mug instead.” She was quite inebriated. She looked as pink as she did on Student Orientation. 

Seteth was still traumatized. He couldn’t decide which of these two professors had embarrassed him more — the drunk Manuela that Hanneman had carry to the front table, or the sleeping Parvati already there, for all the students and the parents to see. He didn’t bother waking Parvati up because of all the other emergencies he had on his hands — like that missing von Hevring student…who, come to think of it, had also caused Seteth trouble because he too had fallen asleep!

“So what were you two doing?” Manuela asked.

Seteth explained to her Parvati’s hypothesis. Manuela looked unimpressed. “Are you serious? You spoiled good drinks over this?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Parvati.

“I mean it’s creepy,” Manuela said. “It sounds like you’re obsessed.”

“I am obsessed! I can’t sleep at night! When I think he’s my only countryman… I have to make it make sense!”

“People aren’t math problems,” dismissed Manuela. She pointed to the sangria and asked Seteth, “Are you done with this?”

“Don’t ignore me!” said Parvati. “That’s mine!”

“No, it isn’t,” said Seteth. “Go ahead.”

Manuela may have been drunk, but she wasn’t too gone to not be suspicious of getting Seteth’s blessing. But she decided she didn’t care and swallowed it in one gulp. She said, “Aren’t you getting too emotionally engaged? I’ve never thought this much about them, not one of them. It’s unhealthy!”

Seteth said, “She has a good point there. Remember, you’ll only get one year with them, and then you’ll have a new set of students.” 

None of which is true, thought Seteth, filling with a growing sense of unease. With the way he’d planned things, Parvati wouldn’t get to see next year’s students. She wouldn’t even finish the year with the students of this one. She wouldn’t spend the year agonizing over Dedue.

“And you have twenty-four students,” added Manuela. “It is not fair to spend so much time on these two.”

“It’s not the same!” snapped Parvati. “They’re not like the other students! The three of us, we have a connection!” 

But it was the same, Seteth realized, because before he’d heard her agonizing about Dedue and Dimitri, she had been agonizing over Ashe. As a teacher — no, as a human being — she was extremely attentive. 

Seteth now had a sinking feeling as he realized: Parvati was mothering. She was instinctively mothering. It was his duty to populate his team with people who would round out the care of and guiding of the students of Officer’s Academy — no, the leaders of the world — and not a single member of OA could previously claim this role. Not Hanneman, nor Aelfric from before, naturally; not Gilbert nor Alois in the same vein; but neither could Catherine or Shamir. Byleth needed mothering herself, and, as he was seeing here, Manuela was too busy trying to convince the kids that she could not be their mother. Then here came Parvati perfectly positing herself into the role without noticing it herself. She was not one for self-awareness… 

“The world wasn’t supposed to be like this for any of us…” Parvati whispered to the table. Seteth and Manuela weren’t supposed to hear the next part, but the music had suddenly come to a stop. Growing embarrassed, Parvati stood up and cleared her throat. “We’d better get going.”

“Ugh!” said Manuela. “And here I thought I was coming by to crash your date, but now I have a raging headache!”

“A date?” said Seteth. “Absolutely not!”

“He’s right,” said Parvati. “I’m allergic to his work ethic.”

“His work ethic!” Manuela slapped the table. “What the hell was all of this talk then?”

“This isn’t work! This is being friends!”

“First of all, you are never friends with your boss, Parvati,” Manuela coached. 

It…actually hurt, but Seteth knew what she was saying wasn’t false. 

“Second of all, this is definitely work, and you are two peas in a pod. You’re workaholics. You, and Hanneman.”

“Please, don’t be preposterous,” said Seteth.

“He’s right,” said Parvati. “I’m also allergic to his proprietary.” She was still talking about how this was not a date. She consulted Seteth. “Pro…proprietary?”

“Propriety,” corrected Seteth, eye twitching. 

“Yes.”

Manuela glared at both of them. “Well, I’m going to leave you two gossip girls alone. It’s time for my beauty rest.”

And with that, she marched away and stomped up the stairs to her rented room. 

“She hurt my feelings,” said Parvati. 

Seteth groaned.


Seteth and Parvati had barely exited the inn when someone called out to Parvati. Parvati gave a delighted cry and just about bounded up the road to meet that someone. 

That someone was a Dark Merchant. Seteth frowned.

“You’re back!” said Parvati as she threw her arms around him.

“I am!” he said jovially. “And you are never this happy to see me. You must be drunk!”

Parvati nodded fervently. The Dark Merchant laughed and awkwardly patted her back, then he pushed her back into a stand. 

“I have news,” he declared.

“You always have news!”

“I do.” The bird beak of the merchant’s mask tilted to look at Seteth as he dropped into hushed Bangala and said, “Don’t look now, but the very Viceroy is looking at you.”

Parvati looked over her shoulder and giggled. “Don’t worry. He’s with me.”

The man squawked. “You’re with the Viceroy?” He gave Parvati a warning. “First the Prince of Faerghus, and now him? You keep dangerous company, Lotus.”

Seteth raised a brow. The Lotus?

Parvati rolled her eyes. “Just tell me what you’ll tell me,” she said.

Sushant cleared his throat. “Perhaps, from now, Parvati, you should introduce me to whoever is lurking. He doesn’t look happy to see me.”

Parvati’s eyes widened and she blinked. “Ohhhh,” she said. “Because you’re a Dark Merchant…” She turned to Seteth and switched to Angrais. “Ah ha… I can explain… Viceroy Seteth, this is Sushant. My childhood friend…from before he was a Dark Merchant. Sushant…”

“Viceroy Seteth,” Sushant nodded, taking off his mask. Seteth was surprised to see such a round-ish face, with round cheeks and plump lips. Sushant had watery eyes and looked amiable, not a thing like Seteth would have imagined.

Sushant bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Maybe. Please don’t come after me, Viceroy.”

“Stop saying stupid shit,” Parvati said to him in Bangala.

He said, “I’m trying.”

Seteth kept a smile to himself.

Parvati said to Seteth, “If you could just give me a few minutes…” 

He nodded. 

She resumed her conversation with Sushant. “Toh? Tarah ki boleche?”

Sushant looked at her. “He said next time you step into Duskar, you will come out married.”

“Bishnu did?” Parvati scoffed. “Then I will come married. He won’t marry a married woman, would he?”

“You know Randolph doesn’t count,” Sushant said. “You’re the Lotus. You can’t get married to someone outside of the faith.”

“I converted Randolph,” she said.

Sushant froze. “What?”

Parvati nodded. “Randolph is Hinduskari.”

Sushant looked at her, jaw-dropped. 

She said, “We’ll perform a Hinduskari ceremony. We’ll do a Seiros one too! We’ll have all of the weddings. I can look good in a white dress!”

Sushant put a hand on his hip and looked down at the ground. He said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t want to get married.”

“But he’s proposed to you?”

Parvati shook her head. 

He crossed his arms. “You probably keep evading him. Like a weasel.”

Parvati glowered at him. “That isn’t what is happening.”

He shrugged. “So I am sure.”

Parvati made a whining noise. “Look, he even speaks Bangala. I’ve been teaching him. He’s got an accent, but he sounds pretty cute.”

“It’ll be less cute when it comes out of the mouths of your children,” Sushant said. With derision, he muttered, “Accented Bangala.”

Parvati smacked his arm. He said, “I’m not kidding.”

She groaned. “Anyways, Chandi knows this. Still, she turns away a good man.”

Seteth said, “If you are looking to get married, I can perform the rites for the Church of Seiros wedding.”

Parvati and Sushant looked at him and blinked. Sushant switched to the language of North Duscur. “Parvati, did he just talk to us in Bangala?”

Parvati switched to Hinidi as well. “I don’t know, I thought I was hallucinating. You’re hallucinating too?” 

“His accent was spot-on,” said Sushant. “You should take him to Chandi instead.”

Parvati smacked his arm again. “Ouch!” he said, rubbing it. “Why is it always this arm?”

Seteth said, “Hinidi bhi bolti hu.” Then he watched with great amusement as the two Duscuri stared at him in horror. 

Sushant said, “Parvati, you’re fucked.”

Parvati gulped. In Angrais, she said, “Seteth… Did you just understand everything he said to me?”

“I did,” said Seteth.

“And you speak Bangala and Hinidi?”

“I do,” said Seteth.

Parvati and Sushant exchanged a glance. She burst out, “Why?” And then, “How?”

Seteth shrugged. “I know a few things.”

Parvati narrowed her eyes at him.

He said to Sushant in Hinidi, “I didn’t anticipate summoning the Lotus. How extraordinary.”

Sushant responded in kind. “Summoning…? A queer choice of words.” Sushant put a hand on his chin. “How extraordinary indeed. I’m going to tell Chandi about this.”

“Please don’t!” Parvati yelped. “We’re leaving now.”

“See you in a few days.”

“Don’t mind if I don’t,” countered Parvati.

Sushant smirked at Seteth, put the mask on and bowed. “I’ll see you around, I’m sure.” Then he cried out with every time Parvati smacked him again. “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Okay, okay, I’m going!”

Seteth watched Sushant walk into his inn. The Lotus, thought Seteth. So it is true... This evening had been…endlessly fascinating.

Parvati turned on Seteth. “So what else do you know? I’m starting to be terrified of these ‘few things’ of yours.”

Seteth chuckled low in his throat. “Professor Parvati,” he said, “you aren’t terrified enough.”


Parvati wasn’t terrified enough. She had no idea that, only a few days prior, he had been alerted to her Lotus status already through one of his spies. Now he was sending another to investigate further.

“You want to talk about what?” asked Parvati, wide-eyed.

“How are you doing? I’m checking in on you,” said Shamir. Just because Catherine and Seteth were burning bridges didn’t mean she would burn hers. They still had a mission. So she’d cornered Parvati after class one day. 

Given the way Parvati was uncomfortably surveying her surroundings, Shamir said, “You want somewhere private?”

Parvati nodded. “Why don’t you come to my apartment?”

Her apartment was substantially different now that it was furnished. The first thing to catch Shamir’s eye — the overwhelmingly large Adrestian flag.

“Do you need me to air out this place?” asked Parvati. The apartment was heavily scented with incense. She started to open windows without awaiting for an answer. 

Shamir marveled. The place certainly had ambience. She couldn’t believe it was the same place… The heaviness of the air, and the scent of the incense…she wouldn’t have believed she was still in the Faculty Hall were it not for the windows have the same views. A hairbrush rested on the table beside the bird cage, the tremendously long locks of Parvati’s silver hair captured and trailing over the table. Beside it, a bottle of coconut oil. 

Shamir looked up to check where Parvati went. The bedroom. She picked up the coconut oil bottle, sniffed it once. It smelled good, so she sniffed it again. So that was Parvati’s smell. Shamir could never pin down what it was, because it was coconut. She had never encountered coconut before. 

She put the bottle down. There were sounds coming from the bedroom. A lot of things falling. She considered throwing a mirror-dart into the corner of the hallway, where the bedroom door was, so she could use the mirror-clear blade of the dagger to see what Parvati was doing. But something else had captured her attention. 

The books on the bookshelf had been replaced. The shelves were no longer overflowing. And upon one of the shelves, completely clear of books, was a black velvet bust of the lower half of a woman’s head. It sported the golden fan earrings Shamir that looked familiar. When had she seen them before?

Orientation, Shamir remembered. She didn’t have time to look at anything else. Parvati returned to her.

“Please,” she said, “sit.” She disappeared into the kitchen pantry. “Could I interest you in chai?” she said. “A preparation from Duscur.”

Shamir assented and went back to poking about. The shelves were full of books with spines marked with the lotus. A gift from the lotus, she kept saying, Shamir remembered. A gift from the Lotus? Is Lotus capital? she wondered. As in, there is only one? This seemed a huge oversight. What was the Lotus? The Church of Seiros should know this. She realized some of the books on the shelves had multiple copies. It wouldn’t be hard not to notice one missing… 

“We drink milk chai in South Duscur,” Parvati said as she emerged from the pantry. She set to making the tea. Noting Shamir at the bookshelf, she said, “See anything of interest?”

Shamir pulled one of the books out. She asked, “What’s the Lotus?”

“My family. Me, my mother, my grandmother before her.”

“Why the lotus?”

“It has religious meaning.”

“Oh.” Shamir flipped through the book. It was full of drawings of geometric arches, and notes written with a fine pen. She looked at the cover again. Was this supposed to be mathematics?

“That book you’re holding is one of my father’s architectural books. That’s what he liked.”

“Agarthan architecture?”

“Yep. Do you want — more sugar than this?” Parvati held up a spoonful of sugar over the pot of boiling milk. 

“I won’t need that much.”

“Okay.” Parvati dunked it into the chai anyway. Then she put another spoonful in.

Why did she even ask…? thought Shamir. Oh, that’s multiple cups. I’m an idiot. She was glad she hadn’t asked her question out loud. She liked to keep her stupid on the inside. Her eyes kept roving and memorizing her apartment. There was a painting. Some Morfisine divination cards. While she intended on reporting it all to Seteth, she couldn’t help thinking Catherine and Seteth would like to see it for themselves. It was interesting. Parvati’s room wasn’t boring like her own or Catherine’s.

“So how’s it going?” Shamir asked when Parvati joined her at the table with the milk chai. She took a sip, trying it, decided she liked it enough to finish.  

Parvati looked at her chai like she thought something was going to come out of it. Shamir started considering her own chai with suspicion. Then she saw Parvati shaking her head. Parvati said, “Honestly, I don’t think it’s going.”

Shamir listened to Parvati’s account. She told Shamir she had never had such terrible luck. She had never had so many bad days. And I can’t even tell Randolph,” she said. “If he hears anything’s wrong, he’ll come to take me away.”

Shamir stirred, frowning. “He’ll just — come here and take you? Just like that? Is that…your…regular dynamic? He decides things?”

Parvati shook her head. She said, “I guess in this case, I just wouldn’t mind if he did.”

“Where would he take you?” asked Shamir, secretly asking should she need to follow if Parvati…disappeared.

Parvati shook her head. “I would just go to Enbarr. Back to Enbarr Imperial. I’m getting restless. My colleagues are doing research without me. I’m getting behind… What about you? How are you doing?” she asked.

Shamir came to interrogate Parvati, not the other way around, so she said, “I’m doing the same as I always do.”

“Meaning?”

“Don’t worry about me, Professor. I will always do fine.”

Parvati tsked dismissal as she sipped at her tea. “That’s not human.”

“Well, I guess that’s me,” said Shamir.

“But you don’t have to be.”

“Feeling feelings is exhausting,” Shamir admitted. “I’m happy to leave those to you, Catherine and Seteth. The three of you feel enough for the rest of us. What with Catherine’s lack of impulse control and Seteth’s anxiety running unbounded all over the place…”

Shamir could tell from Parvati’s puckered expression that she didn’t want to talk about them. Parvati changed the subject.

“I came here to realize a dream,” she said. “That museum…” Her eyes became far away. “I’ve walked through a city far advanced than where we live. I can’t believe how backwards we must be right now. I keep thinking, the world was so much better before…whatever happened.”

Shamir said, “You did what now?”

Parvati grinned. “You wouldn’t believe, Shamir…” She spoke at length of an underground Agarthan city, a city of lights in blues and greens, but in hues she’d never seen naturally occurring in nature. “They have towers underground that go down twenty stories.”

“They go down?”

Parvati nodded. “Their doors slide open into the walls. The hallways light themselves when you step into them. There’s writing on the walls, signs the glow.”

“Is that so?” Shamir drained her chai.

“You don’t believe me,” said Parvati.

“That is not what I said.”

“You don’t have to believe me.” Parvati shrugged. “I was there for years. I know what I saw.”

Shamir placed her cup back onto its saucer. She declined a refill, then asked the question she knew Seteth wanted to know the most. “So where is this city?” She analyzed Parvati’s eyes to gauge if the professor was lying.

Parvati shrugged and said, “I don’t know.” 

Shamir frowned. “You don’t?”

Parvati shook her head. “I was thirteen when we found it,” she said. “I didn’t pay attention to where we were going. We had a big excavation crew — lots of people, lots of equipment. I was messing around, just being a kid. I didn’t care where we were going. And then…” She put her chin in her hands. “When we left, I wasn’t conscious, so I didn’t see the route we took to leave. It’s incredibly frustrating.”

“What do you mean you weren’t conscious?”

Parvati looked at Shamir, and for the first time, the Knight of Seiros sensed she wasn’t going to give her an answer. She said, “I mean exactly what I said. But, believe me when I say I’ve already been asked a lot of questions, by a lot of people, who want to track down those Agarthan Ruins. The amount of money I could have made if I did…ha! Enbarr Imperial would have wanted to go right back if it wasn’t for the Faerghus takeover of Duskar.”

Shamir said, “Duskar?”

“Sorry. Duscur. ‘Doosh-kar’ is how the people of Duscur pronounce it. It’s named for the religion, Hinduskar.” Then Parvati looked conflicted. “Do you…know of the Tragedy of Duscur?”

Shamir nodded, and the professor looked overtaken with relief. “Well, formerly, Adrestia had an alliance with Duscur in order to pursue this,” she said. “ This research, I mean. Duskar was too poor to be able to fund such an expedition. With my parents being Duskari, they managed to make it work.” 

“So the Agarthan Ruins are in Duscur?”

Parvati nodded pensively, then laughed. “That doesn’t exactly narrow things down.”

“It doesn’t?” 

Parvati shook her head. “You take a trip to Duskar and see for yourself. It looks small on a map — in maps now, you would see it called ‘Kleiman.’ But it’s much bigger when you get in. There’s a lot of jungle. Slow trekking. Rough terrain. There’s also desert. And of course, the coasts in the northern end. Oh, also mountains in the southwest. Basically, there’s nothing flat in that place. Just like my dad’s belly.”

Shamir processed this, then looked back to her cup with a delayed smile. 

“Did you want some more?” asked Parvati.

Shamir shook her head. She had enough to process. A lot to report back to Seteth. The most important thing…she now had a hint as to the location of the ruins… Shamir could have stayed another hour, listening, if she wasn’t worried she wouldn’t remember everything. And from how animated she saw Parvati get, Shamir had no concerns the professor wouldn’t be down for a chat like this again. 

Shamir stood up and declared she was going. 

To her surprise, Parvati whined at this. “Awww, going so fast? But I did all of the talking!”

Shamir chuckled. “That’s how we’ll work best.”

“That’s not fair! You tell me about Dagda next time!”

Shamir blinked. “What do you want to know about Dagda?”

Parvati insisted she wanted to know everything. “I once saw this type of dancing. The music was like — do-do-do dooo-do-doo, do-do-do dooo-do-doo — ”

“That song is a rumba.”

“Yes, yes! The other was tango and sansa!”

“Salsa,” Shamir corrected.

“Yes, yes! Do you know how to dance, Shamir?”

Shamir blinked, then smirked. “Do I know how to dance?”


The Viceroy said something surprising to Prince Dimitri on their final day of the wyvern riding course. 

Dimitri steered his wyvern and swerved after him, getting used to the earth tilting at angles underneath him as if the Goddess had decided to flip it over like a page in a book. By the time his feet returned to the ground, the sudden stop to inertia would make him nauseous within minutes, but until then, he followed his instructor past the mountain plains where his classmates had landed and back up to the Monastery.

To his surprise, the Viceroy started orbiting around the main building of the monastery itself, his wyvern slowing. 

Dimitri started. The Viceroy was making a vertical landing.

This was what separated the wyvern riders from pegasus knights. A pegasus knight could only land on flat surfaces. True stealth was found in a wyvern, in the dark of night, silently latching onto any surface at any angle with its razor claws. The only thing it needed was something strong enough to hold its weight and capable of giving purchase to its taloned hands.

The vertical landing was something the Blue Lions had not been taught. It was easiest to land with a wyvern in wide open spaces. The dismount was easy — unlatching oneself from the saddle and walking down the wing. With a vertical landing, the wyvern latched its razor-clawed hands onto the sides of a mountain or a building. This left the wyvern rider on its back was suspended out from its spine not horizontally, but at an angle dropping towards the earth. Unlatching in such a position meant maintaining a constant hold onto the saddle while undoing straps and buckles, becoming less and less secured with every moment. 

Getting out of the saddle wasn’t the hardest part. It was climbing the rest of the wyvern that would be the hardest part. And it suddenly became very apparent to Dimitri how hard it would be because he realized — he too would be making a vertical landing. 

He looked at his wyvern. Its violet shoulders jutted up backwards from the spine. When this beast was hanging onto a building sideways, did that mean Dimitri was going to have to hang off of its back and pull himself up, and the whole of his weight, through just the power of his hands? 

Seteth pulled his wyvern along the side of the fifth floor of the main building and eased his wyvern towards it. It pulled up its arms and latched. Dimitri followed suit. He was surprised. He hadn’t realized from below that, recessed into the west side of the building, was an extended patio with an ornate walkway bisecting two, sparkling rectangular pools. Seteth had landed on the building some eight to ten feet up along the wall over this patio, undid the latches of his saddle, and, sliding over the backseat of his saddle, hung from the edge of the backseat and dropped the remaining six feet down to the patio.

Dimitri was relieved. He had the strength in his arms to hold himself up, but he didn’t want to be dangling five floors off the side of the Monastery either way. He mimicked what Seteth did, taking care to keep a firm grip on the knob in the center of the saddle with one hand while undoing the latches. He slid his legs out from the straps, taking a moment to untangle them. This could be bad to do in a battle, thought Dimitri. Getting tangled and trapped in the straps of his saddle while dismounting would make him an easy, immobile target. In that moment he knew that the horse was solidly his preference; he could jump on and off one at a moment’s notice without even losing velocity.

When he finally dropped onto the stone patio, Dimitri stumbled somewhat. He stopped and adopted a controlled swaying on his feet, trying to get his body used to the unmoving ground, then followed Seteth to where he stood between the sparkling pools. He was looking at flowers floating in the pool as he said to Dimitri, “She cares for you deeply, you know.”

The nausea was kicking in, and Dimitri was imagining how absolutely mortifying it would be if he threw up in these flower-filled pools. He said, “Who?”

“Parvati.”

Dimitri was stunned. He looked at the Viceroy.

“Word has been getting around,” Seteth said, “of how close Lady Edelgard and Byleth seem. What I myself did not anticipate…is how close you and Parvati had already become.”

Dimitri blinked. He didn’t know what to say. 

“Do you know what this flower is, Prince of Faerghus?”

Dimitri looked at it. When he shook his head, it seemed Seteth’s turn to be surprised. He told Dimitri, “This is a lotus.”

Dimitri’s eyes snapped back to the flower.

“That’s what I thought,” said Seteth. “This flower means something to you… How do you like them?” 

It was a white flower, its petals opened wide and welcoming and tinged pink at the ends. It rested alongside lily pads, its spongy golden center rising up to meet the sun.

Dimitri said, “They are beautiful.”

Seteth nodded. 

“Are they from Duscur?” Dimitri asked tentatively.

Seteth nodded again. He looked at the Prince. He said, “I was wondering why you had chosen Parvati. When I presented your options to you, Professor Parvati was not even on the list.” He looked back at the lotus. “And now I know.” He gave a soft chuckle. “How better to secure the people of Duscur into complying than if you had, in your hand, a Lotus?” He looked at the Prince, saying, “What a strategic move, Prince Dimitri. I did not expect it. How politically astute.”

What is he talking about? thought Dimitri. But he fibbed. “I do not do things without reason.” 

Seteth nodded, smiling his mysterious smile. “Well played. And now that you have found her, make sure you do not let her go.”

Prince Dimitri took in those words. He nodded. “I won’t.”

“Very well. I will send away the wyverns. You are dismissed.”

Dimitri bowed to him. Seteth give hand-signaled electric commands to the wyverns to go, then disappeared into the dark maw of the hallway that led out to the patio in the first place. Dimitri noted it as the exit. 

Then, Dimitri stayed where he stood, in the spring sun, between the pools. A warm breeze played over the pool, flowers spinning in the wind.

Chapter 42: Fever

Summary:

Professor Parvati overhears the Prince of Faerghus talking to someone — but there is no one there.

Notes:

Hey all! Sorry for disappearing but -- I GOT A PUPPY!
Iz the cutest.
IZ THE FLUFFIEST.
Also I went to Japan. And met one of you IRL!!! SO AWESOME.
And I did a ton of work on original writing. Fingers crossed something soon will be published.
So! I disappeared for a while. Hehe. Hi.
It's 2024! Time to get back into the swing of things! Happy New Year!!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” said Parvati after Ancient Technology several days later.

Prince Dimitri donned the gloves the horse handlers handed him and picked up the pitch fork.

“No, wait,” said Parvati, “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” 

It was time to pay for the crime of horse-racing…or…rather…not stopping her students from being stupid and almost dying. She hated that she agreed with Seteth. It was an act that needed to be punished…but that didn’t mean she wanted the punishment… She did it, okay? She reflected and she did the guilty feelings. Yes, she should have shown more force, more strength…more command over her students. She should have made sure they knew what they were doing was not okay. She even went through mental exercises of telling an imaginary Sylvain, Ingrid and Dimitri: “We will not be racing horses. That is too dangerous. And if you can’t not, then you can get off now and climb up on foot.”

Except, then she’d remember that she was a math professor. These were the heirs of Houses Gautier, Blaiddyd and What’s-That-One. They probably would have given her a weird look and laughed in her face. And then raced up the mountain anyway. 

That would have been embarrassing.

Parvati stood at one end of the horse stables with the shovel, trying to keep her whine on the inside as Dimitri began mucking out the farthest stall.

“I was a part of the problem,” he said. “This isn’t the worst the Viceroy could have done.”

Parvati crinkled her nose. This guy had so much honor running in his veins. She was not about it. She watched Prince Dimitri move the manure into a pile in between the two facing stalls, and started going into the other one. For the next week, she, Prince Dimitri, Ingrid and Sylvain would serve the same sentence.

“Is there another rake?” Parvati asked. Dimitri had told her she could shovel the manure onto the wheelbarrow, but she didn’t want to be standing around while he did all the work. Or rather, she didn’t want him to see her standing around doing nothing. 

Prince Dimitri didn’t answer. He was so deep in the shit, she wandered the other stalls and left the stables to go to the other one and bring the one rake that was there.

By the time she came back, something had changed. She could hear Dimitri talking from the other end. 

“You’re wrong!” he was arguing with someone. “You’re wrong…”

Parvati frowned. She’d never heard his voice strain that way. He was so polite, even when he was frustrated with — honestly, the most she had seen him frustrated was with her. Which of the other students had come to aggravate him like this?

He was talking more quietly again, so she couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it sounded mournful. She put her rake down against the door of one of the stables — thought about the horse on the other side accidentally getting hooked on it — then set it up against the wall instead. There. She was starting to think in advance about the safety of animals. Seteth better be happy. 

“It’s not like that, Glenn!”

Glenn? Who was Glenn? Parvati tried to get onto her tiptoes. She could not see over the stall walls. She could barely see above the stall doors. A few horses stuck their heads over the doors, wondering what she had brought for them.  

“So I beg you...all of you... Do not worry about my resolve.”

Parvati started walking to the end of the stall. She couldn’t hear whoever else was talking. What was going on here? Who had come to heckle the leader of the Blue Lions?

“Please, Father... And you too, Stepmother... Do not gaze at me with that look in your eyes…”

Parvati stopped in her tracks.

“Whoever did this to you…” Dimitri’s voice carried on. “I swear it, I will bring you their heads soon…”

Parvati stopped. She stayed very, very still. She even stopped breathing so she could hear. Outside, the sounds of people and horses murmured along, like any sunny afternoon. Beneath all of that, Dimitri’s voice had gotten very low. 

“And when I do, you may finally rest in peace. I know it... Yes, I — ”

There was a slight scraping sound. Something wooden slapped the ground behind her. Parvati whipped around. The rake. It had slid down the wall and smacked against the ground. She stared at the rake, knowing now the prince must be standing outside his stall. 

His voice was displeased behind her. “How much have you heard, Professor?”

Parvati stayed frozen, shoulders hunched from the dropped-rake surprise. She slowly turned around saying, “Oooooooh boy.”

“You weren’t supposed to see that…hear it.” 

The look on his face… Parvati had momentarily forgotten that before she was afraid of Seteth, she had been afraid of Dimitri. 

She said, “I wasn’t trying to. I came back with that rake and heard you arguing with someone, so I was coming over to give them a piece of my mind.” She put her hands on her hips, pretending to be casual. “Who’d come to heckle the Blue Lions prince?”

Dimitri blinked, then gave an unpleasant smile. “Heckle… Hmph.”

Parvati desperately tried to re-piece what she’d heard. It’s not like that, Glenn! Do not worry about my resolve. Please, Father... And you too, Stepmother... Do not gaze at me with that look in your eyes… 

Parvati swallowed. His father and stepmother, those people were dead. So probably ‘Glenn’ was too. 

Glenn…of course… Rodrigue’s firstborn son…Felix’s brother.

Parvati frowned. But if these were his ghosts…she doubled down. “Yeah. Heckle.” 

This time, he was less amused. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor.”

“You wouldn’t have made me Premier if I didn’t.” She watched his hands twist the top of his rake’s handle restlessly. What was going on with him?

“Don’t be nonchalant,” the prince said. “The people who did this to them were monsters. Trampling mercilessly over innocent lives. They deserve a gruesome end.” Prince Dimitri’s voice descended into a rasp.

Parvati shrugged. “I mean, yeah.”

He glanced behind her, to ascertain they were still alone. Then he started advancing towards her as he crooned, “They want their heads, Professor. They want their lives. They’ve whispered as much to me.” 

A line started form down the shaft of the rake he was holding. She heard the wood creak. 

“And I have a feeling…” said Dimitri. 

Parvati stepped backwards. Keeping a cool front was not working here.

“I have a feeling the chance to answer their pleas…is fast approaching.” 

Parvati winced at the sharp crack. The rake had snapped in two in Dimitri’s hand, the head landing on the floor with a metallic clang. It snapped Parvati out of her trance. 

Her reeling mind reached for the only thing available to which she could apply logic.

She snatched the handle of the rake out of his hands. “Are you serious? Are you serious?” She shoved the splintered end towards Dimitri. “You broke it?” 

Dimitri stepped back to dodge the rake handle, awareness coming back into his face. “Ah…”

“What are you going to tell Seteth? You’re not dragging me into this! You already did!” 

He looked at the rake head on the ground and provided nothing.  

Parvati growled. “What is he gonna say? We were given one task. If we can’t even do this…” She smacked his leg with the rake handle. He jumped, more surprised than shocked. “This was him being nice to us! What is he going to do next?”

“Professor! I — ” 

“Hide the evidence!” she said. She shoved the handle back into his hands.

Dimitri sounded disappointed as he said, “Professor…”

There was the old Dimitri. Parvati could breathe again. Not too deeply, because it still smelled like shit, but… Dimitri’s breath had been hot on the top of her head, since she was so short. Hmmm…

Parvati took her right glove off and put a hand on his face. He blinked. She checked his other cheek with the back of her hand, then reached to put her hand on his forehead. She could barely reach it, but she did, and then on one side right under his neck. 

“Dimitri…you have a fever!” she beamed.

The prince, who had been turning red, frowned. “Why are you happy?”  

“Because that explains the hallucinations,” she said. “Come on, come on, let’s get you out of here. You can’t be doing this when you are sick!”

“I — Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’m fine. We still have work to do.”

“Work that we can do laterrrrr,” she said. “There are people being paid to do this, and I’m not one of them! I mean…we’re…not…” she corrected again when he looked disapproving again. “Look, I’m not going to get it from Seteth if he hears you were mucking stables when you should be cozied up in your bed!” She glared at the prince. “I am not going to be sent to his office a three times in one week.” 

Dimitri looked back at the stall where he had been having his hallucinations. Parvati followed his gaze, wishing he would please stop looking that way. She had to fight not to let slip her relief when he finally assented. 

“Don’t waste your time on me,” said Dimitri as she walked him across campus. “I can take myself to the infirmary.”

“No, Your Highness,” said Parvati, “I will take care of you. Let’s… We’re going to keep what happened between just you and me,” she explained in a low voice. 

He looked entirely lucid as he responded, “That would suit me well.” 

Then he looked surprised about something as they passed through the courtyards. Parvati followed his gaze. Dorothea was sunning herself at a table, doing her math homework. She smiled and waved at them. Prince Dimitri waved back. Dorothea looked startled. It became instantly clear the girl had been waving to Parvati, not him. 

But Dorothea made a quick recovery. She aimed a coy smile and a wink at the prince. 

The prince made a startled noise. He cleared his throat. 

Parvati latched onto it, anything to slow down her racing heart after the prince’s ‘ghost’ encounter. “Ooooh… Dorotheaaaa.” She feigned laughter.

“Please be silent, Professor,” said the prince, now completely red. 


“Professor!” said Ashe, surprised to see her walking down the second floor of the student dorms. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take care of His Highness,” she said. “The Prince is running a fever.”

“You don’t have to tell the world about it!” the prince hissed. 

“I can help!” Ashe said. “Do you need anything, Professor?”

Before the prince could protest, Parvati said, “That would be lovely!” She sent him to retrieve a nice large bowl with some cold water, and also a small towel. Ashe was gone in an instant.

“Why did you have to tell everybody?” Dimitri demanded as she stepped into his room.

He began pacing inside, instead of lying down or sitting. Parvati sighed inwardly. This boy had zero sense. She told him to lie down.

“Sleep will evade me,” he said.

“But you have a tired body.”

“It will be the case nonetheless.”

She gave him a puzzled look. This was going to be harder than she thought. 

“The bowl of cold water you asked for!” Ashe was standing in his doorway. “I already hung a towel on his chair.”

Dimitri made some guttural noise as Parvati directed Ashe to put the bowl on the table. She told the prince he’d need to change into comfortable clothes.

He said, “I’m always comfortable!”

Parvati and Ashe exchanged a glance as they led themselves out. Ooooooh my Goddess, thought Parvati. When he wasn’t being king, Dimitri was such a nice, subservient student. But right now, he was having a tantrum. 

As the door closed behind them, Parvati sent Ashe to send for something hot from the dining hall. In record time, she found Ashe accompanied by Dedue as well. Dedue carried a tray topped with a silver lid. “Soup,” Dedue declared it.

Parvati smiled. That was fast! How in the hell did he…? She smiled. “He’s lucky to have you, Dedue. So attentive. Your future wife will be lucky to have you too.”

Dedue’s eyes widened. Ashe chuckled. Luckily for the Duscuri boy, the door opened, saving him from any more compliments. Dimitri looked aghast to find even more people outside his door. 

“What is that?” asked Dimitri, looking at the tray in Dedue’s hands.

Parvati gently shoved him aside so Dedue could set the soup on the table. She said, “A hot and nourishing soup.”

“But I don’t want soup.” Dimitri aimed his glare at Dedue.

“Just hush and close the door. Ashe, come inside.” 

Dimitri and Ashe looked at each other. 

“Your Highness!” said Ashe. “I am — so sorry to disturb — ”

“Just come on in,” the prince sighed. He closed the door and looked about the room self-consciously. “I don’t have anywhere for you to sit.” 

“It’s all right,” said Parvati. “We don’t usually expect a party in these rooms.”

Dimitri said something that sounded an awful lot like Sylvain does under his breath, but when asked to repeat that, he said, “Nothing.”

Dedue pulled the chair out for Dimitri to sit at the table as Parvati was reminded she had actually been here before. A Faerghusi blue carpet, a desk for homework, bookcase in the corner by the windows. He hadn’t done anything to further personalize it.

Ashe posted himself at the prince’s bookshelf as Dimitri snapped at Dedue, “You don’t need to chaperone me when I’m eating soup!”

Dedue said, “Very well,” and continued standing right beside the prince. Where else was there to go?

“I can’t eat with you staring at me,” Prince Dimitri grumbled.

Parvati and Ashe exchanged glances and tried to change the subject.

“Ashe, is your room also like this?” asked Parvati. 

Ashe nodded. “Pretty much. I don’t have such a pretty quilt though.” He was talking about the blue quilt with diamond designs on Dimitri’s made bed. 

“This room is so spacious,” said Parvati. “It’s bigger than the room I shared in college. You could fit a tea table in here. And some relaxing chairs. Or do it like the Almyrans, with a whole ring of cushions in the center. Just remove shoes before you come in.”

“Isn’t that the Morfisine?” asked Ashe.

“No, it’s Almyran, isn’t it?” Parvati turned to Dedue for backing. 

Dedue stared back expressionless.

“Apologies,” said Prince Dimitri. “I am afraid this is so bare it is almost laughable.”

“That’s okay,” said Parvati. “You’ve been busy. I am reminded now that the reason my college dorm had ever gotten set up was because my parents moved me in. Baba was the one who put thought into the comforts of my living space. I didn’t care then about cushions and tea tables.” She chuckled. “I was a nervous wreck, worrying about my subjects and professors.”

Ashe cried out. “Loog and the Maiden of Wind!” He pulled a book off of the bookshelf. “It’s my favorite!”

Prince Dimitri snorted. 

Ashe looked at him. “Y-You don’t like it, Your Highness? The King of Lions — ”

“You don’t need to call me Your Highness,” said the prince. Then Parvati heard him mutter something dubious under his breath about King of Lions.

Oh, you’re just being ornery, thought Parvati.

“But to commoners like me, you’re royalty!” said Ashe. “Regular folks normally only lay eyes on you once or twice in their whole lives.” He looked disheartened as he reinserted the book back into its place. Then he pulled out another one. “What is this? Tales of Hinduskar.

Parvati raised her brows. What was that doing here? 

She noted the way Dimitri’s neck had snapped towards Ashe as well.

“I was curious,” said Prince Dimitri, answering her unspoken question.

There is no way, thought Parvati. She held her hand out for the book. “Is that…the copy from Hanneman?”

Ashe handed it to her. Sure enough, when she opened the book, her mother’s Lotus stamp was right on the inner cover, along with a note to her former colleague. Parvati traced her mother’s handwriting, saying, “I haven’t seen…” She left the rest unsaid and handed it back to Ashe. He asked what it was, and Parvati explained that it housed some of the most famed Hinduskari mythologies. “Abridged, of course,” she said. “That little book couldn’t possibly contain our epics.”

Then she turned to Dimitri. “How did you get this?”

There was something on Dimitri’s face. He was holding back. “Professor Hanneman told me about it,” he said, but his face was oddly flat as he did so.

“Look at these colors!” Ashe cried out before Parvati could press the prince any further. “I cannot imagine the cost of this volume. And these tales are so fanciful. Are these all of your gods and goddesses?”

“No,” Dedue said automatically. “We have too many to list in one tome.” He explained that there were different gods in different villages, sometimes even the same gods with different names. At the end of his explanation, Prince Dimitri started to sniffle. 

Oh no, thought Parvati. He doesn’t just have a fever. He is catching a cold. 

He needed medicine. What was she doing? Not a good job of taking care of him, that was for sure. She said, “Ashe, can you go to Manuela and get fever reducer?”

“Of course!”

Dimitri muttered to his soup, “I don’t need it.”

“Also cough drops. And something for a runny nose.”

Ashe replied, “I’ll do it!”

“But I don’t have a cough,” said Dimitri, swirling the rest of his soup listlessly.

“And something for a scratchy throat,” Parvati added. “Hold on, let me write you a note.”

“But I don’t have a scratchy throat,” Dimitri insisted, getting frustrated.

Ashe looked nervously at the prince.

“Oh hush. We’ll get everything in advance before you do,” said Parvati. “Ashe, you can go.”

Ashe bowed, then stammered, “Y-Your Highness…”

“If you’re about to ask if you can borrow the book, go ahead,” said the prince.

“I’ll bring it back tomorrow!” Ashe grinned. “It won’t even take me a full day!”

Parvati didn’t want Dimitri borrowing out a book that wasn’t his own…especially her mother’s gift to Hanneman. So for the first time she pulled off a stern teacher move. 

She said, “Ashe, did you finish your homework?”

Ashe screwed up his face. “It’s due Thursday! I have time!”

Parvati chuckled, “Okay, okay.” She didn’t know what else she could say to stop this from happening. She handed Ashe the note, which he promptly stuck into the pages of Tales of Hinduskar, like a bookmark, then scrammed from the room, eager to escape before she asked any more unwanted questions.

Twenty minutes later, Parvati and Dedue had managed to convince Dimitri to get into bed. He was sleeping. The fever was finally taking its toll. He was quieter now. Less argumentative. Or perhaps the soup had made him pleasantly full. Or both. Whatever it was, she was grateful.

However, Ashe was not back yet. The infirmary was just downstairs, behind the greenhouse. Unless Manuela was busy, the task Parvati had assigned him should not have taken fifteen minutes. What was taking so long?

Sitting on the bed beside Dimitri, she wrung the little towelette into the cold water, folded it into thirds, and replaced it on Dimitri’s head. “Dedue, go check on Ashe,” she said.

“Yes, Professor.” Dedue’s eyes lingered on the bedridden Prince. He quietly closed the door behind him. 

For a long blessed moment, Parvati had no thoughts in her head as she stared at the door. She zoned out to the sound of some bird calls, then she looked down and near jumped out her skin. 

The prince’s eyes were open. He was looking at her.

“My mother used to do this.” The prince indicated the towelette as the professor calmed herself.

Parvati nodded. “My mother too.” She smoothed out the wrinkle of the towelette upon his head. Then she said, “Sleep.”

He closed his eyes. She had come halfway off the bed when his hand found her wrist. His eyes were open again. He said to her softly, “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

She frowned at him. “You have to sleep,” she said.

“Don’t go,” he said. “They’re coming back.”

“Good. They better have your medicine.”

The prince shook his head no. “Not them. The ones who are dead.”

Parvati could feel a tendril of cold. She looked at the door. Still closed as Dedue had left it. This was not something she wanted the others to hear… She resumed her seat at the prince’s side again.

She asked, “Where are they?”

Dimitri blinked at her, slow. Then, slowly, his eyes started veering away. His gaze stopped between the table and the bookshelf, and stayed there.

Parvati breathed slowly in, then out again. She had just been standing there. So had Ashe and Dedue, when they were looking at the book. She hadn’t felt anything. 

“How many?” she asked.

“Four.”

“Who are they?”

He blinked at her. It seemed like he didn’t want to say, or rather, he didn’t want to say as they heard.

She named them for him. “Father. Stepmother. Glenn. And who?”

Dimitri shook his head. His eyes were drowning. He swallowed.

“What do they say to you, Dimitri? What are they saying?”

“The same things they always do.”

Parvati waited for more, but he looked away. “Sometimes they are louder than everything in the world. They never go away.” 

Parvati looked back at the space between the table and the bookshelf. Then, jumping to her feet, suddenly out of his grasp, she marched into that space. She asked, “How about now?”

Dimitri smiled weakly. He closed his eyes and pulled his blanket up to his chin. “That won’t make them go away.” 

He became quiet. Parvati watched him. She tried to sense out if there was anything roving where she stood. If he was playing her, she’d give him a minor cuff on his head, but…as one of Hinduskar, she wasn’t one to dismiss things spirits and ghosts. She wasn’t exactly afraid of them either, as her religion provided rituals to ward off evil and keep her safe, but…that didn’t mean she would dismiss or disrespect them either.

But here was Dimitri, believing these were the ghosts of his parents. It was impossible. This was a fact that she knew. But she couldn’t be too direct about this. She had to make him come to this realization on his own terms. If this was a plague of his mind…the key had to also be conjured by his mind. He had to free himself.

His eyes were open again. They focused at the foot of his bed. Where the ghosts were.

Parvati moved there next. 

Dimitri smiled. “They do not speak when you are with me,” he said.

And there it was. Definitive proof. The truth had revealed itself.

Parvati kept her thoughts inward as she returned to flip the towelette on his forehead. This is all in your head, she thought, wringing the water out into the bowl again. It isn’t true they do not speak. They did speak, in the stables, for as long as you didn’t know you were with me. Which meant whether they spoke or not was completely based on his awareness, not on a third party outside of him. But she couldn’t say that. She would lose his trust if she invalidated him.

She remembered his voice when he was speaking. His voice was breaking. Please, Father... And you too, Stepmother... Do not gaze at me with that look in your eyes… It wasn’t the anger his ghosts were placing on him that bothered him most. It was the idea that they were disappointed in him.

She could feel her heart break inside.

“Can I talk to them?” she asked.

The prince’s eyes widened, startled. 

In his silence, Parvati settled herself for a nice long chat. She retrieved the chair from his desk, sat on it backwards, and rested her chin over on her folded arms over its back. “What have they been saying?” she asked. 

He said nothing.

“Have they told you, that you are their good sweet child, as of late?”

The prince cast eyes away from her and turned over.

Parvati hummed.

“Have they said anything about how proud they were? You’ve grown up into a fine man.”

She heard the towelette clinging to his forehead slip off.

Parvati hummed. Still not talking, hm? 

“Ah, it sure would be nice to be able to ask them about where it happened, in that moment. Their surroundings,” said Parvati, dangling this like a lure over the prince’s head. “I could take notes.”

The prince turned around. It was funny, because aside from his head stuck out of his blankets, he looked like a caterpillar rolling over.  She tried not to laugh at his face, which was so wholly serious. He asked, “What do you want to know?”

“Well, are the ghosts ready to talk?”

His mouth formed a line again. 

“I didn’t take your parents to be anti-social,” said Parvati. “Not very kingly…”

“You would hold your tongue!” the prince snapped.

Parvati raised her brows, and, feeling smarmy, opened her mouth and did as he commanded. “The’e,” she said. “Ith thab whab you wanthed, Yo’ Highbeth?”

The look on his face. 

Parvati chuckled. He had yet to hear of the concept of malicious compliance.

“Fine then,” she said. “They don’t have to talk to me. But I would like to speak with them.” She cocked her head. “How uniquely bizarre,” said Parvati, “that they get to be with you again. Are they making the most of it?”

At first, she thought he was looking at the foot of his bed, but a bird had landed upon the windowsill. Its blue plumage, so soft, spread down its winds into a pine green, the sheen metallic.

“Have they forgotten what it feels like to fear the end?” asked Parvati. “I don’t know how they’ve escaped the Reaper, but even as ghosts, their time is limited. They don’t have forever.”

She could see his brows furrowing. 

“I would like to think they would be in a mad dash, to tell you everything they wished they had time to teach you over the years, because — what if they have to go? They knew not when Death would find them, nor when Second Death will take them away.” 

The bird flew off. The prince’s voice was strained as he said, “Professor.”

“Are they really so angry…to be so entirely transformed? Have they forgotten themselves?”

“Professor!” He was angry now. “I did not allow you here to hear you reprimand my parents!”

Parvati held her tongue, this time, metaphorically. “Of course not…Your Highness.”

There was a knock on the door. Dedue entered. Parvati came forward and verified the medications upon small tray Dedue was carrying as the prince said to Parvati, “You are dismissed.”

Dedue looked from His Highness to the professor. The question was clear upon his face. 

“Very well,” said the professor. “Be assure to administer these. I will return in three to four hours.”

“No, you will not,” the prince intoned with his back turned to them.

Parvati slid an extra sleeping pill from the upcoming dosage forward into the current one. She held Dedue’s eyes as she said, “I will.”

Dedue nodded imperceptibly. Parvati excused herself. 

When she returned again, the prince was sleeping softly, and the ghosts were not there.   

Notes:

Thank you to everyone for reading! Next chapter will be up by the end of the month!

Chapter 43: Pushing Lines

Summary:

The calm before the storm is not calm for the Faerghus Four. Sylvain smells it in the air: the approach of something damning.

Notes:

Look! The views!!!

THAAANK YOOOOUUUU!!!!

All right folks! This is where The Lion and the Lotus ramps up permanently. Get ready. Aside from the next chapter, some of the most intense chapters -- and exhilarating chapters -- ahead.

Chapter Text

Why was she still talking…?

Why did he have to be here?

By the Goddess. 

Felix hated Advisory. 

With an elbow on his desk, he leaned his cheek against his palm. 

He watched the professor’s lips endlessly moving. 

Yada yada yada. 

What was she still saying? 

Nothing important, obviously.  

Just fanning herself with their report cards since it was so hot.

He didn’t need a report card to tell him he had top marks. 

Now if Professor Parvati could just hand them out already, he could leave.

But of course not. They had to have an entire Advisory class on something that could just have been a delivery. 

Dammit. Morning was the best time for training. The fewest thoughts in his head. 

But his ass had to be in this chair instead. 

He looked at the clock. Goddess! Why. Sixteen more minutes.

And then he heard the word “demons.”

Felix turned to Ashe. “What?”

“Well, I’ve been reading a lot about her!” said Ashe. “Come on, Professor! Tell us the story! About Goddess Durga, and her epic battle against the demons!”

“Eight arms?” asked Ingrid.

“Divine Weapons?” asked Sylvain. 

Felix was still stuck on demons. What was this about Divine Weapons and eight arms?

“Not right now,” said Parvati, finally looking at the topmost report card. It looked like she was finally about to distribute them.

“Oh, please, Professor!” begged Annette.

Mercedes nodded. “I’ve heard a little bit from Dedue. I love to hear about the gods of Duscur.”

The professor looked unenthused. “I don’t think so.”

Then to the shock of all, Dedue said, “I will tell the story.”

Felix glanced his way. Hmph. The prince’s dog. He glanced at the clock again. Very well. A story could pass the remaining while away. 

“Once upon a time,” Dedue began, “there was a demon named Mahish Ashur…

He was a Buffalo Demon, with a head of a buffalo and the body of a human. He was a shapeshifter, and a trickster, and a king of Ashurs… 

He was, however, also pious, and he spent years of his life in meditation, devoting himself to the prayers. One of the gods took note: Brahma, the Creator god.  Brahma had been so impressed. He told the Ashur to ask for anything he might want, for Brahma would grant him a boon. What Mahish Ashur asked for was: immortality. He wished he could never die.

Brahma told him he could not grant him such a boon. He could, however, present him invincibility. He made it so that Mahish Ashur could be killed by no animal nor man. “You can however,” warned Brahma, “be defeated by a woman.”

Mahish Ashur laughed. “A woman? What can a woman do to me?”

Mahish Ashur celebrated. He had plans. He was finally going to take his army of demons and march upon those in the sky dominion. He would lay siege to the gods and challenge them, and knock the gods out of their sky abodes. And thus, he challenged the gods and laid siege to the Devas’ dominion. 

“The Devas’ dominion?” asked Mercedes

“The Devas are the gods,” Dedue explained. “The Devas lived in the sky. Humans and Ashurs, they lived below.” He continued the story.

True to Brahma’s word, there was not a single god that could do anything to him — not Vishnu the Savior, not Shiva the Destroyer, not even Brahma himself, who had awarded the demon this boon. Thus, the entire army of gods were nearly felled by the great Mahish Ashur.

Retreating, the gods came together and held council. How could they surmount this threat? How could they reclaim the Devas’ dominion? Who amongst them could possibly rise to dispel not just Mahish Ashur, but the entire demonic army preceding him? At last, they called upon…

At first, Felix thought Dedue was pausing for dramatic effect. But he then he realized Dedue was waiting.

The professor rolled her eyes. “Parvati,” she muttered.

The word popped out of Felix’s mouth before he could stop himself. “What?

“Goddess Parvati,” nodded Dedue. “It was Goddess Parvati they called upon to challenge Mahish Ashur.” 

Maa Parvati, the Mother Goddess, accepts their charge. One by one, the gods bestowed upon Parvati their Divine weapons — and an arm with which to wield them. Lord Shiva gave her his trident. Vishnu presented her his chakram discus. Before long, the remainder of her eight arms too were filled with a bow and arrow, a scimitar, a mace, a conch, and a lotus.

Thus, strengthened to be greater than man, Goddess Parvati became Maa Durga, the Goddess of Power.

  

Image source: ArtStation / Artist: Vinayak Kajave

Image Source: Unsplash / User: Tanuj Adhikary  

Annette said, “Wow!” as Sylvain started to laugh.

Felix scoffed. “Not bad.”

Beside him, Ashe jumped in. “That’s not even the best part! Dedue! Tell them the best part!”

Felix exchanged a glance with Mercedes as Dedue asked, “What is the best part?”

“The fact that she came in on a lion!”

What?” said Felix. Even Ingrid’s mouth had dropped. 

“That’s right!” said Ashe, eyes twinkling. “Mahish Ashur could not be defeated by animal nor man…so Goddess Durga came in on a lion!”

Mercedes was laughing now. “So not only does Parvati Sinha mean ‘Mother Goddess’ ‘Lion’, but — ” 

“You’re saying the goddess has eight hands with Divine Weapons?” Sylvain cut in.

“All right, all right, this is just a story,” Parvati interrupted, holding her hands up. “Don’t take this too seriously.”

“But it all aligns so well,” said Prince Dimitri as Annette gasped. “There’s eight of us!”

“Right?” said Ashe.

“With Crest Relics…” the prince intoned.

Ashe said, “Exactly!

“Ashe, stop this,” said Ingrid. 

The class halted. Ingrid passed her eyes passed all over them. 

“Do you know where you are?” Ingrid asked them. “Do you know who you are?”

The class met her with silence. 

“This is the Garreg Mach Monastery. There is only one Goddess that we talk about here, and She is watching.” Her eyes flashed at Ashe. “And you, who were made heir to House Gaspard of the Holy Kingdom — they might be heretics, but I warn you: don’t get lost.”

Felix stonewalled. He looked at the clock. And when the bells came, Felix was first to get out of there. He forgot his report card, but he couldn’t trust himself to stay there one moment more.


There was no privacy whatsoever in the training grounds with Catherine, Shamir, Prince Dimitri and the rest of the Blue Lions all there, so Sylvain had to keep his trap shut until he could follow Ingrid to the library. And once she settled down at the table in her usual private corner, Sylvain slid in right opposite without hesitation.

“Ingrid, what was that?”

She looked up. “What was what?”

“That move you pulled there? In the Blue Lions classroom today?”

She returned to her — math! — homework. “That professor is already on thin ice. I’m doing whatever I can to ensure the rest of us don’t sink.”

“Don’t — sink — ” His chest felt too tight to breathe. “Is that what you think you were doing? Did you take one look at the expression on His Highness?

Ingrid gave him a troubled look and noted somberly, “I know. He’s too deep into her spell. You have to help me, Sylvain. We have to save him. Ever since Dedue has been with the prince…”

That statement made so little sense, Sylvain was thrown. “What — spell — do you think he is in? She’s the one professor who doesn’t have magic, Ingrid. She is literally allergic to it. Deathly.”

Ingrid gave him a look. “It doesn’t have to be magic, you dunce. The prince is confused. How else can you explain it?” 

Ugh, Ingrid, you’re digging yourself into that hole again, thought Sylvain, feeling that familiar throb in his forehead. He rubbed his forehead and he recalled what it was like hurrying after Ingrid as the others followed with hushed voices, and slow. He thought, I can’t save you if you keep doing this to yourself. Then he thought about all the ways she always had his back, followed after him, cleaning up his messes when he messed with the wrong girls. Though this was not quite the same…

I didn’t ask her to clean up my messes, he thought, wondering why his sense of debt and obligation had chosen now of all times to kick in. Couldn’t he return the favor in some other way?

Ingrid crossed off a fraction and reduced it to the lowest terms as she said, “Professor Parvati’s a maths professor. How does she get picked King’s Champion? I don’t have answers to my father’s questions. All I know is, we have to keep an eye on them.”

Sylvain frowned. “Your father put you up to this?”

“No,” snapped Ingrid, looking offended. “This is common sense. They’ve already staged one cowardly attack. Our prince is vulnerable. I just didn’t realize he was this impressionable as well.”

Sylvain snapped. “Ingrid! We went over this! That — didn’t. Happen. It wasn’t the Duscuri! Even if it had been, they weren’t the main event! They had to have been used by somebody! Then turned into scapegoats! They didn’t even find any Duscuri bodies where the King was.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t know this.”

“Actually, I would,” said Sylvain. “I heard it directly from Rodrigue.”

Ingrid frowned. “That has to be wrong.”

Sylvain stared at her. “Say that again.”

“Say what?”

“You tell me…that the intel my father received directly from Rodrigue…the father of the one you lost in the assassination… You tell me that Rodrigue would get this intel wrong, of all things.”

Ingrid shook her head. “You misheard it.”

The anger that had been coiling in his stomach was coming out in his voice. “You ask him,” he said.

“Sylvain, be quiet!” she said in a strained whisper.

“You ask Felix. Go ahead.”

“We’re in a library!”

“Go ask him! I am sure he would know more.”

Ingrid frowned. “He doesn’t talk to me.”

“I wonder why.”

Ingrid snapped the book they had been reading shut and returned it to its place. “I don’t understand. How are they any different from Sreng?”

  The Sreng were the people the Gautier defended against. Sylvain’s family had, now, for nearly two centuries, defended this border, the northeastern Faerghusi border, against a seafaring people that burned everything within its path.

“What makes them different?” asked Ingrid. “During the sacking of Irene? When they came in, they raped and pillaged and murdered.”

Irene was a northeastern Faerghusi city that the Gautiers lost to the Sreng within the last few years. It was now a hot topic the Gautiers did not like to answer to. The Sreng were pressing in not only along land borders, but also along the Faerghusi coasts along the waters south of the Sreng’s lands. From the north, the Gautiers faced another problem. Volcanos, pushing up from underwater, were constantly spewing toxic ash that blew directly into their territory for a decade now. And to make things worse, they were adding land to the Sreng’s territories. Though it was suicide to use that land, since the volcanoes were active and the lungs on any animal burned going through there, if the volcanoes ever stopped, the Gautiers were in trouble. 

So if the volcanoes ever stopped, the Gautiers were in trouble, and if they didn’t stop, the Gautiers were still in trouble. The situation was only getting worse.  

Sylvain said, “You want me to draw a parallel between the Duscuri and the Sreng?”

Ingrid shrugged like it was obvious. “They came in like savages.”

Sylvain said, “Ingrid…in the Tragedy of Duscur…the Duscuri were not the ones invading.”

She frowned. “So?”

“So if there was looting and pillaging and murdering going on — it wasn’t them.”

“We wouldn’t have done it if they didn’t deserve it first.”

Sylvain looked at her. “They deserved it?” he asked. “When our soldiers killed innocent women and children?”

“They were militarizing.” 

Sylvain stopped, for a moment overwhelmed with the frustration of having to talk through this at all. This was way too much work. He was going to get out today — forget Ancient Technology — he was going to go down to Saleh Mach and find himself some women. Some women whose brains he wouldn’t have to prod to find out if there was intelligence in there, because if he was out with them and drinking, he wouldn’t care — whereas when he was with Ingrid and not drinking, he did care. 

And he was caring too much, judging by how hot the blood was rushing in him right now. He hadn’t gotten this worked up even sparring with Catherine. And his stomach wasn’t twisting. Then he remembered she hadn’t seen the problem earlier with attacking women and children. Wasn’t she training to be a knight? If she wasn’t having difficulty with that, he didn’t know what was worth saying to her. 

Ingrid stopped waiting for him to answer and launched into something about how, if Faerghus had waited any longer, the Duscuri would have crossed around the mountains and attacked Mateus-Gideon.

No way, thought Sylvain. There’s no way she doesn’t know… Then he said to her, “Hey, Ingrid…do you know what was happening in Duscur?”

“I don’t have time for a pop quiz right now.”

“No, I think this is a history lesson. Do you know where the Duscuri army was, the day Regent Rufus and Rodrigue crossed into their borders?”

Ingrid said, “At the border, of course.”

Sylvain paused for a beat, then said, “Which one?”

She frowned. “Sylvain, they only have one border.”

Sylvain face cleared with surprise. That answer was wrong. It was so wrong, he couldn’t think by the time she added, “Look, Sylvain, I have to go.” She mentioned something about it being her turn to fit and oil all of the weaponry and armaments in the Knights’ Hall, and she wanted to get this done today. 

He watched her back as she retreated, thinking how much he didn’t realize she didn’t know. The Duscuri were not at the Faerghusi border. They were north, militarized for a different enemy. 

And then the must of the library became too much. 

Sylvain threw open the window, a moist, warm air billowing in from outside as if it had been waiting, pressing against the window. It cleared his mind as it passed across his face. Several hours later, Tomas would nearly pop a vein discovering half a shelf of books were rained on and the humidity had been allowed to come in, but for now, Sylvain wiped his hands over his face and left the library.

When he got to the hall with the faculty offices, he peeked down the length of the hall to see if Seteth was in the Audience Chamber. Lady Rhea was, attended by a few cardinals, but Seteth himself was not. Good. Sylvain started down the hall, eager to be out before Seteth came back, when he noticed a door on the left that was open. It was the door across from Professor Parvati’s, a door he had never seen open before. Right now it was wide open, and inside, it was dark. Was someone in there? Why was it open? 

Sylvain looked into Parvati’s office, which for the first time he had ever seen, was open…and empty. Then he looked down the hall. Then he stepped into the dark office. 

There wasn’t much he could make of the dark shapes, but what he could make was the globe. There was a globe on the corner of the table, looking bronze and shining as it reflected the light from the hallway. Sylvain approached it. 

Sylvain had spent a whole life spinning globes, marveling at the ever-changing borders to the sound of his father’s voice, discussing things with his council, and sometimes with Rodrigue. Sylvain had been expected to listen, as heir of Gautier, unlike Glenn and Felix and even the Prince. Their parents had frowned upon bringing children into war rooms. The margrave did not. The margrave worked by a tradition of six generations, as he said to Sylvain, “They grouse because of inland luxury. They will play safe, but you will die.” The words came with a bitterness that only faded with fatigue. 

Thus, Sylvain had lived a life of contradicting maps, as map-makers on both sides of the borders appeased first Faerghus, then the Sreng, then Faerghus, and sometimes both. They outright circulated differing maps if they felt like it. It was farcical. If the mapmaker could tell which side you were from, she would sell you the “official” one of where you were from, regardless of if it put you in danger. So what was truth when the lines shifted by the day, and people acted according to whim anyway? All Sylvain knew was that the blood was pouring in to move this one line a little more north, a little more east. 

One day it would be his blood used to push that line. His blood and his battalion’s, so they could send a pretty map to the King. Who cared who the king was. Be it Lambert or Rufus or Dimitri, the purpose of his life, the purpose of Sylvain’s life, the purpose that would have been his brother’s if Miklan could only have been born with a Crest — was to push a line on a piece of paper. And also to marry well, so their children could also have Crests, so they could be better at pushing the line, or at least not lose ground, or at least stay alive when Sylvain was gone. 

Wow. What a life! What a marvelous life! 

Sylvain placed a finger on the cold, gleaming surface of the globe and sent it turning, lighting a small pocket of fire in his left hand so he could see the world spin under his fingers. It made a sound like it was on its last, dying squeal as it turned on a metal shaft, Fódlan giving away to Almyra giving away to the ocean before stopping at the Far Lands. Sylvain pushed it to turn again, and this time it gave way once more to ocean before Fódlan came peeking over the edge. 

Sylvain frowned. Almyra and the Far Lands had been regimented with the borders of all its states. How come Fódlan did not designate Faerghus, Duscur, Sreng, the Alliance and Adrestia? No, there were borders. There was a border between Faerghus and Sreng, but nothing between Duscur and Faerghus and Adrestia and the Alliance. 

Then he realized something else. He tilted the face of the globe back, bringing back up the Western Ocean. Where was the island empire? There was an entire smattering of islands that simply didn’t exist. 

Sylvain shook his had. This was a stupid map. All the things that mattered were incorrect. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Sylvain turned, and nearly knocked the globe off the table as he did it. He managed to catch it, though. And who could possibly be standing in the doorway but Seteth?

Sylvain said, “Viceroy — ”

“Get your hands off that this instant! Do you have any idea its worth? That globe is ancient!” 

Sylvain righted it back onto the table and sputtered some apology. 

“Is there a reason you should be here, Gautier? I cannot think of any.”

Sylvain looked down, unsure what to say now. 

The Viceroy was clearly far beyond all patience, what with all the complaints he had fielded about Sylvain’s womanizing this month. Seteth said, “Get out of here this instant, and do not come back into this room.”

“Is he back now? Is that Aelfric?” came a voice behind Seteth. Professor Parvati’s face came poking over Seteth’s shoulder. She was stretching on her tiptoes to look into the office. When she saw Sylvain, she looked disappointed and disappeared.

Seteth did not turn away from Sylvain. “Ah. Professor Parvati. No, he has not returned, but there are a few things that need moving. I will take care of this. If you could please escort your student downstairs.”

“He can escort himself! I’m staying right here. Don’t you need help?” The professor squeezed her way past Seteth through the doorway — something Sylvain would not have believed if he hadn’t just seen it happen with his own eyeballs — then went about ransacking the office with her eyes. 

“I do not need help,” said Seteth, giving her a cross look. 

Sylvain was relieved to have the Viceroy’s attention shifted, and marveled at how the Viceroy’s smoldering gaze didn’t seem to affect her. She wasn’t even looking at him. 

Then the Viceroy said, “Actually, I do need help. I need you to escort Gautier out of here for me.”

“Okay, sheesh. Come on, Sylvain.” 

When they got downstairs, Parvati put her hands on her hips as she addressed him. “Don’t worry about the globe,” she said. “When I first saw him, Professor Aelfric knocked it over himself, and it went rolling down the hallway. Prince Dimitri put a boot on it to stop it rolling. If you were just twirling it, you didn’t do anything bad.”

Sylvain blinked. Headache raging, he couldn’t keep up his facade. “Are you really going to act like nothing happened?”

It felt like this was the first time she was truly looking at him. “Aren’t we all?”

He barked a laugh. “I guess it’s the way of the world.”

He didn’t actually want to hear her say the words: “It is.”

Chapter 44: New Friends at Garreg Mach

Summary:

New Friends at Garreg Mach
OR: Byleth tries to give Parvati gifts.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy this fun chapter!
Next chapter: shit's about to go down.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

While Sylvain was arguing with Ingrid in the library, Parvati was fuming about Blue Lions Advisory right through lunch. She scanned updates from her Enbarr Imperial graduate students as it ran itself through her head again.  

“This is the Garreg Mach Monastery. There is only one Goddess that we talk about here, and She is watching,” said Ingrid.“And you, who were made heir to House Gaspard of the Holy Kingdom — they might be heretics, but I warn you: don’t get lost.”

Ugh! thought Parvati. She had been reading the same sentence over and over again from Frederick. She played the rest of Advisory in her head.

“I was baptized into the Church of Seiros when I was an infant, actually. My father made sure of it,” said Parvati, breaking the silence. “And Dedue was force-converted, so…who are they, Ingrid?” She leveled a look at Ingrid. “Who are you calling ‘heretics?’”

Ingrid did not back down. “A bath in holy water does not a Seirosi make.”

There was a low hiss as Sylvain urged, “ Ingrid.”

But Parvati smiled. “Then we’re on the same page.” She handed out report cards. “There has certainly been a lot of…non-Seirosi activity…in Faerghus these last four years.”

That’s the way it should have went, but…Parvati slapped down the letter. How it actually went was total embarrassment.

“Okay, everybody, class dismissed,” Parvati had said. She threw all of their report cards (in their separate, closed, blue envelopes) upon her desk, threw everything else in her bag, and without looking anyone in the eye, departed.

Parvati put her face in her hands, forced herself to breathe through the striated spaces of air between her fingers. Her blood was pounding. 

Which was why she didn’t hear the first few times her name was called. “Professor.”

“What?” Parvati snapped straight. Then her eyebrows went up. “Byleth?”

Byleth was already standing in front of her desk. Unusual. This mercenary had never set foot in her office before. Parvati took in a deep breath, knowing Byleth was watching, and breathed out again, in an attempt for a mental reset. 

“How can I help you?” 

“This is a bad time?” said Byleth.

Parvati gave her a wan smile. “Yeah…a little bit.”

“Perfect.” Byleth smiled.

It took a moment for Parvait to register this and say, “What?”

“I have a… I think you lost something,” Byleth said to the professor. 

Parvati’s brow quirked up with interest. “Really? Okay then. What is it?”

When Professor Byleth pulled out the Dry Hemp, Parvati blinked at it. “What is that?”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

When Professor Byleth pulled out what she explained was a Jousting Almanac, Parvati gave her a look. “Why would you think that’s mine?”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

When Professor Byleth pulled out what she explained was a Black Iron Spur, Parvati gave her a look. “Why would you think that’s mine?”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

When Professor Byleth pulled out what she explained was a Small Tanned Hide, Parvati gave her a look. “Why would you think that’s mine?”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Byleth placed onto her desk a burlap sack of rocks. 

Parvati yelped. “What is this? Get it off!” There was dirt on the letters from her students. “Why are you even carrying that thing?”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Byleth gave a frustrated grunt. “One of these has to be yours,” she said, rummaging through her things. “What is it?”

Parvati blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Byleth said, “Stop giving suggestions, Sothis. You seem to have been wrong about everything.”

Parvati frowned. “Sothis?”

Byleth waved a hand across Parvati’s face, saying, “Never mind.”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Parvati’s brow quirked up with interest. “Really? Okay then. What is it?”

She accepted the letter Byleth handed to her, got halfway through it and let out a gasp. “Whooooa…” This was to Lady Rhea. 

Parvati looked at the door that she had thought was still open. But apparently, Byleth had closed it at some point. Huh. Okay then. 

“I do not have the gall to write a letter to Lady Rhea,” said Parvati. “But I know this handwriting. It’s clearly Catherine’s. But you could probably tell just from the words. Heh heh. This is so embarrassing.” As Parvati handed it back to Byleth, her eyes twinkled. “Thank you for letting me see that. I won’t say a word.”

Byleth blinked at her. “So this isn’t yours?”

“…No.”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Byleth handed her a Shiny Striated Pebble. 

“This is pretty. Not mine though.”

But Byleth was protesting to someone else. “Very well. One more attempt. Then I will move on to Gifts.” 

The hairs on the back of Parvati’s neck stood up. There wasn’t someone standing behind Parvati was there? Parvati turned.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

When Byleth proffered what Parvati immediately recognized to be one of her raunchy romance novels, Parvati began to sweat. “Uh — why would you think that’s mine?”

Byleth was starting to put it away when Parvati snatched it. “…Um — just give it here. That’s fine.”

Parvati threw the book into her desk drawer and put on an overly-saccharine smile. “Huh, you’ve got me pegged. I-I-I mean, wow, how did you know?” She scratched her head, her entire body flushing with panic. “Is that everything? I really need to get back to these…” She waved her student’s status reports. 

She missed Byleth’s look of relief. Byleth said, “I have more.”

To which Parvati’s stomach dropped and her eyes widened. She lost more raunchy books? How the hell did Parvati lose them?

“Here. It is a gift,” said Byleth. 

Parvati looked at what Byleth was holding out. 

A rock.

“Huh? What is this?” asked Parvati.

“It’s a Whetsto — oh never mind.”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

A Goddess Statuette. 

“Um, no thanks,” said Parvati.

“Fine,” Byleth grumbled.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

A colorful ball with a hole.

“Huh? What is this?” asked Parvati.

“That’s a Fishing Float,” Byleth sighed.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

At the Tasty Baked Treat, Parvati’s face lit. She said, “Whoa-hoooa! Keep ‘em comin’!” She’d forgotten to eat lunch.

She didn’t realize Byleth would take this literally. 

Byleth proffered her a Stylish Hair Clip. 

Parvati said, “Wow! Really?” She was already admiring it when she remembered to say, “You don’t have to.”

“How about these Riding Boots?” said Byleth.

Parvati’s smile froze upon her face. Where did these Riding Boots come from? She would have immediately noticed the smell. 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

“How about The History of Fodlan?” asked Byleth. 

Parvati put the Tasty Baked Treat and Stylish Hairclip down to accept the book Byleth was forcing upon her. “Oh, heh heh, that’s not a history book. That’s propaganda.” The professors look at each other in awkward silence. “Don’t tell Seteth I said that.”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

“How about this? You teach maths, don’t you?”

Parvati put the Tasty Baked Treat and Stylish Hairclip down to accept the Arithmetic Textbook. “Oh, is this what the non-honors students are using?” Parvati reviewed how the author explained one of the theorems and said, “This is actually adequate.”

“Also this,” said Byleth. 

An owl feather landed upon her desk.

Parvati blinked. “Well, I guess it’s pretty.”

“And here are some flowers.”

“Oh. Okay,” said Parvati. “I don't have a vase…” 

Byleth was already reaching into her knapsack for something else. 

Parvati snapped, “Byleth! I have enough! Thank you.”

Byleth looked surprise. “Oh. Okay. Would you like to get lunch with me?”

“What? Did you do all that so you could get lunch with me? You didn’t need all of this…” Then Parvati frowned. Wasn’t she angry about something? Her head was feeling woozy 

Bah. Better get lunch. That was probably why she was suddenly light-headed.


A few days later, there was a new first to in Parvati’s experience: Catherine barging into a Blue Lions advisory.  

“Catherine!” said Felix and Dimitri when they saw her come in. 

Parvati had a full three seconds to watch the most dangerous supreme Knight of Seiros come hurtling her way. Catherine got right in her face. “Why are you telling them lies about me?”

Parvati took two, slow, measured steps backwards, calmly. She said, “What are you talking about? You’re the one who quit.”

That is a lie,” said Catherine.

“How is it a lie?” asked Parvati. 

The Blue Lions had gone completely silent. Mercedes leaned Dedue’s way to see around Dimitri’s head. At the sound so more footsteps, nine heads turned to see who it was. 

“I told you not to do this,” said Shamir with a dark look on her face.

Catherine ignored her. “You said that you’re not my professor, so what else could you mean?”

Parvati stared at her with a look of disbelief. “I meant you’re not one of my students, so you didn’t have to stick around for the lecture.” She put “the lecture” in air quotes.

Catherine blinked. “Oh.”

Shamir looked from Parvati to Catherine and crossed her arms. “Are you serious right now? This is why you’ve been fighting over for weeks?”

Catherine started saying something like “Her views are delusional!” while Parvati fired back something about “brainless puppet!”

Shamir snapped. “So you have philosophical differences. So what? Now you can’t work with each other? I thought you were professionals.”

“I am professional!” the two of them protested together.

Shamir said, “Shut up. I don’t want to hear from either of you. Now don’t talk to me until you’ve made up.”

The Blue Lions, Parvati and Catherine watched Shamir stroll back out the classroom. “She started it,” Parvati muttered after her.

Sylvain and Felix looked at her.

Catherine cleared her throat. “We’ll — uhh — we’ll do this later,” she said.

“Yes, let’s,” said Parvati as Catherine walked to the door. “And you can show us how professional you are by maybe not barging into my class. For future reference.”

“Professor Parvati!” Annette whispered urgently.

“And you,” said Catherine, “can show us how professional you are by shut the — up!” She made a hand gesture. "For future reference!” 

The Blue Lions gasped in unison as Catherine slammed the door to the classroom, even though it never got closed for advisory. The windows were still rattling as she left. 

Parvati stared, open-mouthed. “She is — such a child!”

The door reopened. Parvati’s heart swept into her throat. 

It was…still Catherine. She poked her head in to look at the kids. “So I, uhh…I’ll see you at the Training Grounds. Next Saturday.”

The Blue Lions erupted into cheers. Parvati put her hands on her hips and shook her head, incredulous. “You better be happy,” she told the kids. “Sheesh!”


Not long afterwards, Parvati found herself jogging after Catherine to flag her down. It wasn’t until she let out a yell — “Catherine!” — that sounded more like a dying animal that Catherine finally stopped in the courtyard and let Parvati approach.

Parvati put her hands on her knees as she wheezed. “Catherine… Are we… Are we good now? Can we stop doing this please?” 

She got a little nervous since she could only see Catherine’s boots reposition themselves while she restored her breath, but the knight spoke at last. Catherine said, “Fine.” 

Seeing Parvati’s massive sigh of relief, Catherine admitted, “To be honest, I wasn’t having a good time.”

“I know. Yeah. Same,” said Parvati between gasps. “Can we just, never ever do that again?”

“No promises,” said Catherine with a grin. “Being honest, Parvati. You are a little stupid.”

Parvati stood up to her full stature, which wasn’t much. “I’m the one who’s stupid?”

“So it is you,” said another voice. “Parvati.” 

She didn’t recognize the Almyran man until he reminded her: “It’s me. Uzair.”

Parvati’s breath stopped. “Uzair?” Of course she wouldn’t recognize him. He was a gangly kid when she last saw him. Who would have known he would now be sporting such a crisp beard. With that mustache and soul patch, it was the latest rage, the new facial hairstyle of the Almyran king. And while it was the feature that drew one in, it came second to the way sunlight pooled into his light brown eyes…the eyes one could not stop looking into because of that hundred-percent stare. 

Parvati remembered that hundred-percent stare. When Uzair was focused on you, he looked at nothing else. 

“Salam,” said Uzair in greeting.

“Walaikum assalam,” Parvati greeted back. “You look — different.”

He chuckled. “And you look just the same.”

She had to look at his burnt orange tunic to reduce the heat of his stare.

“Is that your sister’s doing?” Parvati pointed at the kohl around his eyes. It accentuated his eyes, made them pop and look brighter and warmer.

He shook his head. “It is mine. I can be good with my hands too.”

Catherine, completely forgotten, looked from one to the next.

“I didn’t think I would see you again,” he said. “I didn’t know you…survived.”

“Well, here I am,” said Parvati. “Alive.” 

“My parents were happy to know.” Uzair smiled.

“Oh! Say hi to them.”

“Say hi to them yourself,” he shook his head. “Come, visit my family’s establishment. It would be an honor to receive a Lotus’s patronage.”

Parvati looked away.

“What? Looking for Hanneman?” There was a twinkle in his eye. “He still doesn’t like me.”

“With good reason!” Parvati interjected. 

“Let bygones be bygones. It’s been fourteen years,” he said, “since I’ve last seen you.” 

She hummed. 

“Well then. I will tell my parents. We will prepare within the fortnight. My sister will dance for you. My brother can read your fortune.”

“And you?” asked Parvati.

Uzair gave her a slow smile. “What would you have me do, Lotus? You need only tell.”

And in this moment it was becoming clear there was something she needed to shut down. “Only food and drink,” said Parvati, “for me and my…partner.”

“Consider it done.” Uzair gave a bow. She could not see his expression. And when he rose again, she could not tell if something was different. “Await me,” he said. “On the given night, I will send you a carriage.”

“Okay,” Parvati said, surprised.

At last, he gave Catherine a hand-signal salam, then departed. Parvati watched him leave, heart thrumming, as Catherine said, “Wow. Too bad about Randolph, eh?”

“Huh?” said Parvati said, startled.

Catherine said, “I saw the way he was looking at you.” She cut off Parvati’s protests. “So who was he? He hasn’t seen you in fourteen years?”

“A friend,” said Parvati. She explained that she had been at Garreg Mach for a short time once, on the journey to Duscur. Hanneman had invited them, and her parents agreed, for once to take the scenic route, to do some sight-seeing for once. “We always took ships to Duscur, to avoid Faerghus, you see,” said Parvati. “I don’t know what they were thinking, and later on, they told me they didn't know what they were thinking either.”

For a moment, there was deliberate silence. They both knew what they weren’t saying. 

Then Catherine said, “So about Uzair…”

“He was just a kid I met.” Parvati scratched her head. “We played a lot of hide and seek.”

“Yeah?”

“He had to go home early one day,” Parvati explained, “so he stopped looking for me. But I didn’t know, so I kept hiding, then I feel asleep. Hanneman…and my parents…panicked.”

“Oh. Is that all?” Catherine gave a bark of laughter. “That’s why Hanneman…?”

Parvati nodded.

Catherine chuckled. “So you know good hiding places?”

Parvati grinned. “Uzair showed me them all.”

“So if we ever have to find any of the kids…” said Catherine. 

Parvati nodded. “We’ll find them. I’ll make sure of it.”


Uzair was not the only non-Officer’s-Academy friend Parvati was making at Garreg Mach. Several months ago, Parvati was looking for a place to hide. Ever since she had taught her first Ancient Technology class, she hadn’t been able to focus on work. Students had begun dropping into her office at an alarming rate. Not to mention the Prince of Faerghus. So when push came to shove, Parvati got going. She searched the Monastery for other locales, secret places where her students would not find her.

One of these places was in the servants’ quarters: a table placed in the corner of a hall, benefiting from two windows, so that the sun might pass out of one and in through the next for the vast majority of the day. It was recommended to her by Cyril, and it was exactly to her specifications. 

I’d better give that kid a tip, she thought to herself. Not that he would accept it.

But the creeping onslaught of unending students visiting her had soon been replaced with curious glances of all the servants in the Servants Hall. One woman had even gasped and rearranged her skirts passing Parvati.

Oh boy, Parvati had sighed internally. This was a safe space for them. A professor of the Officer’s Academy was a startling invasion. I’d better go, she had thought, and started to pack.

“No, you talk to her!” 

She looked over at the corner. Two startled Duscuri children’s faces disappeared around the corner. She chuckled. “I am not going to eat you,” she said in Hinidi. Hearing no response, she thought, Maybe they don’t understand Hinidi. She tried again in Bangala. “Tomaderke khabona to. Asho baire?” She coaxed them to come out. 

The big sister came out first. She was dark, with eyes set wide apart, and her hair neat and taut in a braid as long as Parvati’s. The braid looped back up to her left earlobe with a wide, red ribbon. She was quite a bit taller than Parvati, the professor realized as the girl approached. Her little brother was a stark contrast to her tall and gangly. He was more round, and more pudgy. And, suspicious.

“Tomader nam ki?” asked Parvati.

The girl introduced herself as Pinky, and her little brother, Bintu. They were children of a laundress and a carpenter, and were told not to bother her.

“Not bother me?” asked Parvati, frowning. “Why?”

The two of them exchanged a nervous glance. 

Well, thought Parvati, noting this for future investigation. “Ekhane ki korcho? School nai?”

They were here because they didn’t have school. The monastery servants’ children did not get schooling here.

“They don’t?” Parvati’s brows raised. “So where do you go?”

Pinky shook her head.

Parvati paused. “You don’t go to school?” 

Pinky shook her head again.

Parvati putting a hand to her lips as she was thinking. “Do you know how to read?”

Pinky responded in Angrais. “We know how to read. The church people taught us.” 

Parvati’s brows rose to hear such a strong Faerghusi accent. But it made sense. Over half the clergy folk at the monastery were Faerghusi. 

“Ma taught us how to read Bangala as well,” added Bintu. 

“She doesn’t want us to learn from the church,” Pinky went on in a Bangala whisper. “They keep trying to turn us to the Seirosi faith.”

Parvati hummed. “That can be annoying,” she agreed. But there is so much being lost, she thought. Her own parents had entered Adrestia as refugees. They were taken in by the Church themselves. They too had learned Angrais, and how to read and write, in the care of the Church of Seiros. Though they rejected the religious part of the teachings afterwards, Parvati could not ignore how much she herself owed to the Church for saving her parents, even if it was in a different way than they intended. They had provided her parents a good education. 

“What are you doing?” asked Bintu, his eyes wandering the top page. 

Parvati explained she had been grading. Their eyes grew big as they considered the math test of the future Adrestian emperor.

“Number 7 is wrong,” Pinky pointed out to the professor. She then gasped. She had just said Lady Edelgard was wrong. Parvati could see the girl preparing herself for some kind of punishment. 

Parvati grinned. “Would you like to help me grade it?” 

Bintu gasped as Pinky’s jaw dropped open. 

Parvati checked the hall again—it was empty—then set back out the students tests. She separated them into three piles. She pulled out the two chairs beside her from the table and beckoned them to sit. “Look at this,” she said, setting Lysithea’s test aside. “This is the answer sheet. If any of these pages don’t match each of these…” She took out more quills, and moved the red inkwell to a central location. “You get to make a red X.”

Bintu was looking at the checklist Parvati was working on. “Your handwriting is terrible. It’s even worse than his,” he said, referring to Ferdinand’s test.

“That’s cursive, Bintu!” Pinky yelped. 

“Wow! Can I grade the test of the Prince?” The eight year-old kid’s teeth shone in an evil grin. “Zero zero zero! Everything wrong!”

“Bintu!" shrieked his older sister. She snatched the test away so fast, Parvati’s heart jumped out of her chest for fear the test would rip. Then Parvati realized—even worse!—that test was Hubert’s!

“Professor! Take his quill away!” Pinky commanded.

Bintu screeched. “No!” He fled immediately around the corner, his footsteps pattering away. 

Pinky stepped back from the table to bow so fast, her chair clattered behind her. “Forgive him, Professor! He is excited. …You…probably won’t be seeing that quill.”

Pinky was surprised to see Parvati’s face break open with laughter.

“Thank you for being honest.” The professor picked up the chair up again and offered it. “Now, let’s try again. Check the answers. Do you see anything wrong with this?”

This time, it actually was the test of the Prince of Faerghus. Parvati enjoyed seeing Pinky’s quill float a full half foot away, dipped in red ink, her eyes wide with terror. “Perhaps, instead, we’ll start with this.” Parvati slid Ignatz’s test over the Prince’s instead. She explained this was the test of the sweet son of a merchant. A little less scary this time.

Pinky furrowed her brows in seriousness and nodded. “Okay.” And in the course of a half an hour, the grading of the math tests was all finished. 

Parvati leaned a hand on her cheek as she rested. “So? What did you think?” She grinned. “Ready to be a professor at the Officer’s Academy?”

Pinky looked down, flushed with happiness. “You’re funny,” she said, shy again. 

And that is how it began. 

Over the next week and a half, Parvati would find herself crossing paths with this duo all over campus. In the dining hall, in the gardens, often when Parvati was in transit, Pinky’s eyes would light up and she would smile. Bintu, on the other hand, would boldly stick out his tongue. The first time his sister noticed, it resulted in an immediate Pinky meltdown. 

“Professor! I am so sorry!” she said, bowing fervently again and again. “I’ll tell Baba to cut his tongue out at once!” 

Parvati laughed. What it would actually amount to was little more than a light slap, or a round of running away from his mother’s sandal — her chapal. But, she had forgotten, in all her time in Adrestia, how casually threats of violence rolled off the tongue in the Duscuri languages. And how colorful and absurdly mythical.

Parvati assured Pinky there was no need. “Your brother seems to know no fear. He’s spunky.”

Spunky he was indeed. Parvati had no idea how it happened, but at one point, while taking tea in one of the gardens one morning, she and Bintu got into an argument. Whatever the argument was, it eventually devolved into this:

“You know what I’m going to do to you?” said Bintu.

“What?”

“I’ll cut off your pinky and feed it to a…dog.”

And because Parvati had her mother’s streak to tease kids, she shot back, “Then I’ll cut off your pinky and feed it to a pegasus. It’ll fly away from you.”

“Then I’ll cut off your pinky and I’ll feed it to a mouse.”

“Just one mouse?” said Parvati. “Couldn’t it feed a mouse family?”

“Oh yeah, because you’re fat.” 

Parvati doubled over the table and covered her face with her hands, laughing. This was a conversation that could not have happened with his sister, Pinky, around. From other tables, some non-honors students at Garreg Mach, the ones not in the three houses, glanced over, grinning.

When she stopped laughing, Parvati continued. “Then I’ll cut off your other pinky and feed it to a…donkey.”

“Then I’ll cut off your pinky and feed it to a fish.”

How many pinkies did he think she had?

“Wait, no, wait,” Bintu corrected himself. “A worm.”

“That’s gonna take a long time.”

“A lot of worms!”

“No, I mean, for the flesh to rot and get old. So that the worms can eat it. You’re going to be all grown up and married by then. You won’t even notice.”

“No, I won’t!”

“You’re right. Who would marry someone who cuts off people’s pinkies and feeds it to worms?”

Students nearby were now loudly tittering, but Bintu was so wrapped up looking through at the diagrams in one of Parvati’s Ancient Technology textbooks, he did not notice. “Then I’ll cut off your other other pinky,” he said, “and feed it to…a wyvern! Then my wife will never know!”

A few stable masters who had the misfortune of passing by in exactly this moment adopted the most bemused looks upon their faces. 

It took work to keep a straight face. “And I’ll cut off your toe and I’ll feed it to a horse,” said the professor.

“And I’ll cut off your toe and feed it to a…cat.”

“And I’ll cut off your toe and feed it to a…rhinoceros.”

Bintu solemnly put down the book. “Those don’t exist!”

Parvati barked a laugh. Of all the absurd things they were saying, this was what threw him?

One of the students at a nearby table chimed in. “They exist.”

“No, they don’t!” Bintu shot back at a kid twice as old as him.

“Yes they do,” said the girl.

“Well if they exist, what are they?”

That made everybody laugh. The girl from the other table started to explain, but Bintu was already moving on. “Then I’ll cut your middle left toe and feed it…to a dragon!”

Oh my Goddess, he is still on this? thought Parvati. She decided to switch things up. “I don’t have a middle left toe.”

Bintu looked gobsmacked. “What?”

“All of my toes are right toes.”

Bintu looked at the girl at the other table to check. The students from the other table put on their poker faces. This many people looking so serious made Bintu tentative. “That can’t be real…”

“Sure it is,” said Parvati. 

Bintu looked under the table, but her toes were covered in boots. He demanded, “Show me!” 

“I can’t. Right toes can only be seen by good boys.”

“You’re lying!” 

What is going on here?” came a voice behind them.

Bintu and Parvati turned around. Parvati’s stomach dropped as she said, “Lysithea.” 

“I’m trying to do homework,” said Lysithea. “It is, in fact, yours. Do you have to be screaming?”

Parvati was about to—like a child—say she wasn’t the one screaming, but Bintu spoke first. “Hey Answer Sheet,” said Bintu. "Answer me this.”

Lysithea blinked. “Are you talking to me?”

“Do you have just right toes?” asked Bintu.

Lysithea stared at him, trying to process this. “What?”

His clarification was even better. “Do girls have just right toes?”

Now, it was important to realize, here, how hard Professor Parvati was trying to keep a straight face for Lysithea. She had just recently been sent to the principal’s office because Lysithea had been offended by course material. For all the fear children had of getting into trouble with their teachers, Parvati now had just as much dread of being accused of something by Lysithea, even if it was something as simple as laughing. 

But it was a battle she was about to lose badly, because following Lysithea was Claude, and his response to Do girls have just right toes? was:

“As opposed to too hard or too soft?”

A reference to Silverlocks and The Duscur Bears Three. 

Parvati burst out laughing. She laughed so hard, she cried as she thought, What is this conversation? 

Lysithea glared at Claude. “This is nonsense. I am going to the library!” she declared. 

Bintu followed her. “I’m coming with!”

Lysithea looked cross as she said, “Why? Go bother someone else.”

“Okay. I’m someone else.”

Claude and Parvati exchanged glances. 

“That kid’s going places,” Claude noted.

Parvati laughed. “The library.” 

Notes:

😆 I had a lot of fun writing out Parvati's lines for Lost Items and Gifts. Also much enjoyed writing an NPC character whose mind keeps getting wiped by Byleth -- and all of the ways Byleth failed at giving gifts. I should have been writing more Byleth crack scenes. Let me know what you think of it! And all the other characters as well!

Series this work belongs to: