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Byleth glittered under the light of the Ethereal Moon, snow coating her hair and sticking to her forehead. Her frozen coat dragged heavy behind her, chilled from the river water she was found floating in. The wind stung her pink cheeks as she climbed her way up the ruined and deserted path to the monastery, which now lay dark and empty.
Homes and shops laid in ruins from the battle that must have taken place after she'd fallen five years ago.
Five years ago… she thought to herself. She chewed on her cheek.
The emptiness chilled her, memories of the year she spent with the Black Eagles resurfacing–not that they ever really left. She recalled many lively trips outside to fight off bandits and enemies that followed the same path she walked now.
The gates, gnarled and twisted, were opened just enough for her to slip through.
None of the other students had shown.
Only Edelgard stood in their meeting spot, an interaction that ended in a stiff sword duel and the empress leaving shortly after. Byleth could only stand there, tiny flurries of snow falling from the sky, her sword drawn at her side, until a breeze pushed against her and sent her on her way.
The moon hung high now, reflecting in her eyes. There was not a single soul left in this old complex she used to briefly call home.
She didn't know how long she'd been plodding along by this point. Byleth found her way to the cathedral while wandering in an aimless direction, taking in the sights of such a dreary campus.
She wasn't religious by any means, but seeing the old altar destroyed tugged at her heartstrings. It brought back memories of singing with Dorothea, Edelgard, Lorenz, Flayn, and Marianne. The times Seteth fondly taught her about what the four statues meant and which one was his favorite.
Despite the darkness, she made out the faint silhouette of none other than Seteth, standing in the middle where everyone used to pray, his back toward the entrance.
---
Initially, Seteth thought he was hearing a bandit as he turned around at the sound of shuffling footsteps. In this darkness he could not see, and his heart skipped a beat when the footsteps picked up quicker and charged toward him.
Without his spear, all he could do was raise his arms and slide one foot back to brace for whatever impact was about to happen, but the footsteps stopped short just a few feet in front of him. Peering out from behind his bracers, he came face to face with Byleth.
Who they all assumed was dead.
For five years.
His heart damn near soared. He opened his mouth to speak and all that came out was a surprised croak. Byleth stared at him with those big green eyes and an inquisitive look. She was trying to catch her breath. She looked almost exactly as she did when they lost her.
"Seteth," she began, desperately, "you're here."
He cleared his throat, shaking his head. "I only came here to look for supplies with Flayn. Byleth, how are you here right now?"
Byleth's pink face and windswept hair worried him. She trembled from head to toe, her hair and cloak frozen solid, not to say anything of her tights and exposed midriff dusted pink from the wind.
She tried to speak-- stuttering something he could only interpret as 'cold'-- then held her arms out, stepped toward him desperately, and grabbed him in a tight hug.
He wasn't sure what to do except hug her back just as tight should she slip from their grasp again. Even through multiple layers of clothing he could feel the cold seeping off of her. If he tried to move, she grabbed him tighter, fingers tangled in his cape, face buried in his shoulder.
If not for the circumstances, he may have thought it cute.
So many questions ran through his head, the most important being how she was actually, physically back. After five long years of searching, assuming that she was dead, she was right here in his arms like his prayers were finally answered.
Seteth reached up to stroke her hair the same way he'd comfort someone close, but his fingers were met with icy, tangled locks that clung to her skin and coat.
She was completely and utterly soaked. The second thought that came to mind was that she was starting to suffer from hypothermia and he needed to work on this fast.
"Byleth, answer me. Why are you wet?"
"River," she said, voice muffled.
"You were in the river?"
She nodded.
He reached up to grab her shoulders and hold her at arm's length. "We need to go get Flayn, you need to get warmed up. A bath, maybe-"
Byleth looked up at him with soft eyes, a warm smile on her face, and it was as if time stood still for a moment.
Then her knees gave out.
Seteth cried out and grabbed her just before she hit the floor, holding her in one arm and steadying himself with his other.
Getting soaked as she was, in the middle of the Ethereal Moon, would cause dire consequences if left much longer.
He started with maneuvering her out of her coat, making a mental note to get it washed later as he tossed it aside. She mumbled, not completely unconscious, yet unable to stop herself from shaking. Without hesitation he pulled off his cape and wrapped Byleth in it, scooping her up in both arms.
---
“Flayn,” Seteth began as he closed the door behind himself, one hand combing through his hair, “you should be the one to get the bath started and get her changed. I can work on finding food and washing all our spare clothes.”
“Mm, of course, but…I think you should stay with her actually. I still have to find what I came here for.”
Seteth sighed, hand on his hip. “It won’t be right for me to be the one changing her.”
Flayn gave him a knowing look, one that mildly unsettled him, because he wasn’t sure what she knew to begin with. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, Flayn staring steadily back at him.
”Spill it,” he said.
An enormous smile crossed her face and she steepled her fingers. “You have had no problem before when it came to helping anyone injured during, say, a battle. Or anyone who came to you for help. Why do you feel so modest now?”
“I wish we hadn’t pretended to be siblings.”
She was bold in how she spoke to him since then. But he supposed she always had been.
“Haha! I see the way you look at her, Seteth. I remember the way she watched you when you passed her class to fetch something. It took you years to reach acceptance that she was gone and now she's miraculously back. I think maybe she would like a familiar friend when she wakes up, yes?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
”So what you are going to want to do is start with cool water. And then gradually heat it up, so that you do not shock her to death.” Flayn took his hand and patted it softly. “I will see if she requires any healing magic when she has been properly warmed up.”
Of course Seteth knew all of this. He let Flayn instruct him anyway.
---
When Byleth came to, she was almost lulled back to sleep by the soothing steam around her and the gentle tug of someone brushing out her hair. She sat on a stool, propped up against the side of a tub full of soapy water that came up just to her knees. The room smelled faintly of lavender. A sweet voice outside the door sung quietly.
For a moment, Byleth didn't want to move, letting whoever was combing through her hair continue without interruption. They moved with deft hands, always working from the ends of her hair first and then up, gently tugging at knots without ever yanking too hard.
What Byleth cared about right now was that she was warm. She wasn't shaking or ensnared by a heavy, frozen coat.
She tried to recall anything from before she woke up. Truthfully, up until she woke up, all the memories she had was seeing Rhea and then falling.
Byleth then whimpered about having heard Sothis, still missing that chastising voice and attitude. Whoever was brushing her hair stopped immediately.
"Did I pull too hard?"
Her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was Seteth’s voice.
"What happened?" Byleth asked. Her voice felt sluggish.
"We suspected you were too cold to function anymore," he said, placing the comb down on the table. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, if I overstepped. I needed to get you out of those clothes."
"For you, I don't care."
He only made a noise at her.
"Where are we?" Byleth asked.
"Still at Garreg Mach. Flayn insisted we warm you up as fast as possible and the tubs here sufficed."
Byleth mulled this over and chewed on her thumbnail as he continued to brush through her hair. It was comforting.
She recognized the room as one of the washrooms at the monastery. It was dark, only a few sconces lit, just enough for them to see each other. Her heart still fell, wondering if any other students would show up for their reunion day, or if she was foolish for ever hoping.
When Seteth was able to pull the comb without it getting caught, he went in with shampoo next. She found it hard to keep her eyes open as he massaged the shampoo in. She inhaled slowly.
Uncomfortable with the silence, Byleth could only think to say, "You're good at this."
"At what?"
"Jeralt always pulled too hard on accident. I never cared to be careful."
He laughed softly. "I spent a long time doing Flayn's hair, and let me say, she wasn't going to let me do that."
An agreeable "mhm~" sounded from the other side of the door where the singing now stopped. Flayn.
“I never said it before, but I find that the green looks nice on you, professor.”
Byleth snorted. “You're biased.”
“Maybe so.”
She pulled her legs up to prop them on the stool to hide her blushing face from him, her muscles achy with exhaustion. She laid her chin on her knees as Seteth poured water over her head and began brushing her hair one last time.
"The monastery is so dead," Byleth muttered. "It used to be lively. I was hoping that…maybe the students would be here."
Seteth hummed in agreement. "Nobody should be here right now. The fighting broke us. We only came back to look for supplies we stashed, and something Flayn left. All the supplies are gone, though, likely stolen by the bandits in town. So…that's where we'll be headed come dawn in a few hours."
"Take me with you," Byleth said suddenly. She turned to look at him with a determined glower. Before he could speak, she continued. "I'll be fine. Let me help."
"You just almost got hurt from hypothermia!" Seteth said, flabbergasted.
"But I'm fine now."
"You collapsed, I can't very well let you go out there-"
As if to prove her point, Byleth stood, wrapping the towel tighter around herself, and stepped over the side of the tub. Seteth crossed his arms, unimpressed, one pant leg now unpleasantly soaked from the water that splashed out.
Her entire body ached, but she wasn't going to let him see that. She wrung the water out of her hair, swept it back behind her shoulders, and started for the door.
Except as soon as she took a step, she stumbled. She caught herself by grabbing Seteth's shoulder and refused to look at him, afraid of what “I told you so” look he sometimes had.
“You forget you also haven't eaten and your clothes still aren't dry,” Seteth chimed in a cool tone. “You need not stay in the water if you're warm enough but the room is comfortable to at least stay here.”
He pulled Byleth down to sit at a stool.
Byleth didn't stare at him in frustration, but something more…inquisitive.
“Look, I am not going to nag you but there's still a few hours until dawn. Maybe slow down a little bit, just for now.”
Byleth scooted her stool closer to Seteth, resuming her position of arms wrapped around her propped up legs. “Tell me what happened then. While I was gone. What were you and Flayn up to?”
Seteth sighed like he was holding that in for years.
“I don't know where to begin.”
She reached out to take his hand, staring with big, pleading, desperate, green eyes. “Start when I fell.”
“Of course, if you insist…”