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It was a normal afternoon in the Blue Lions classroom.
“Class is dismissed,” said Byleth.
“But Professor,” ventured Annette, hand raised, “there’s a whole hour of class left to go.”
It was a mostly normal afternoon in the Blue Lions classroom.
Byleth was having a normal day, except for the ways in which they weren’t. Their head was pounding. It had been pounding since this morning, when they were woken disoriented and half an hour late for class by the stern pounding of Seteth’s fist against their bedroom door. Their symptoms had been mild enough then – mild enough to escape the notice of a scolding Seteth, to be precise, so perhaps not that mild after all – but the stuffed nose and sore throat had since been given a full day to wage their war of attrition. Byleth had only managed to survive the day’s lessons by improvising their way through a whole week’s worth of quiet written assignments and through the tactical application of a large bullion’s worth of warm tea.
Certain students were more enthusiastic than others about the changed lesson plan, but that was beside the point. It was late afternoon now, nearing the end of academy hours, and hope was finally on the horizon. It was late enough to end class early, yes. But the true appeal, the real magic of the hour, was the fact that the dining hall was finally open for dinner.
“Class is dismissed,” Byleth repeated, and they started toward the exit.
They didn’t get far. One moment they were walking, and the next, Felix was blocking their path. Not good. Their illness had to be dulling their senses for him to sneak up like that. “I don’t care to waste time,” he announced. “If we have an hour to spare, why don’t we start a discussion about the importance of a weapon’s construction?”
Byleth swallowed. Why did their throat have to be so dry? “Tomorrow, perhaps. Class is dismissed.”
Annette materialized behind them, unfortunately completing the flanking formation. “Not everyone uses a weapon to fight, Felix. Why not talk about… hmm… Ooh! What faith magic does to your body!”
Byleth didn’t care about faith magic right now. Last they heard, it didn’t do anything about seasonal colds. “Tomorrow.”
Ashe, still sitting, scooted a bit closer. “Why not discuss something else, then? Like how to handle various weather conditions?”
“Or how to continue fighting through an injury?” Dimitri offered from across the aisle.
“Annette,” growled Felix, clearly not ready to move on, “so what if you don’t use a weapon? Your enemies do.” He stepped closer. “Everyone has weapons used against them, and reading them is the difference between life and death.”
Byleth frowned. Could they still be contagious? Felix was getting a bit too close.
“Everyone has faith magic used on them, too,” countered Annette.
“No, they don’t,” argued Felix. “You don’t need faith magic if you don’t let your enemies hit you.”
“How many times has Mercedes healed you, again?”
Byleth’s headache was getting worse.
“Alright, everyone, settle down,” chimed in Sylvain, of all people. “You can all stay here and study on your own if you want. The Professor’s clearly leaving.” Yes. Correct. “If you need me,” he added with a wink, “I’ll be enjoying myself in town.”
The ensuing chorus of groans and grumbling finally granted Byleth the opportunity they needed to slip past Felix and out into the courtyard.
They recoiled as the too-bright afternoon sun announced its presence on the monastery walls. Finding cover in the shadow of a nearby pillar, they breathed as deeply as they still could with their nose so thoroughly congested and their body braced awkwardly against the cool bricks. Really, the sun shouldn’t have caught them off guard. It was a foolish mistake. But after a full day of hiding in the classroom, they’d entirely forgotten about the environmental hazards of a simple, clear afternoon. Now they could hardly see, their head ached worse than ever, and they couldn’t even smell the perfumed breeze from the garden. They were impaired.
It made for an uneasy disadvantage, bit it would be fine. Just one last push and they would be free to sleep the rest of their illness off. The flowers could be smelled tomorrow.
There was something to be said for just going straight back to their room to sleep, but detouring through the dining hall would be worth the effort. The trip through the garden proved oddly difficult, full of flowery terrain to dodge and treacherous hedges that couldn’t be leaned on, but Byleth persevered. And oh, that trip would be worth it. They were in for a treat. The Garreg Mach Meat Pie was on special today, and a nice, warm serving of their favourite food was the best way to combat any cold. The dining hall line was short, too – a benefit of arriving before the official end of the day’s classes – and waiting in line was easy with the counter right there to lean on.
Finally, after only a few short minutes of queuing, it was time. They were face to face with the day’s cook.
“Ho there, Professor!” bellowed Alois, with a smile so bright it made the outdoors look welcoming. “I’m pie-leased to meat you! What can I get for you today?”
Byleth shrank back, shielding their face from the onslaught. Why did Alois have to be on kitchen duty today, of all days?
“Oh, are you feeling alright?” asked Alois, his concern toning down the radiance ever so slightly. “I can get a hearty bowl of Daphnel Stew whipped up for you nice and quick. You just hold tight.”
Byleth took a breath to answer, then sneezed. A sound like shattering rang in their ears.
Oh, their headache did not like that.
“I would like the Garreg Mach Meat Pie, please,” they managed.
“…Alright,” replied Ashe. “Did you not eat enough lunch today, Professor?”
Byleth opened their eyes.
It was a normal afternoon in the Blue Lions classroom.
“Annette,” said Felix, ignoring Byleth’s misplaced order, “so what if you don’t use a weapon? Your enemies do.”
Oh, no. Byleth remembered this. Did they just travel back to Felix and Annette’s argument?
…They hadn’t meant to do that.
They didn’t sense any danger. But with their illness relentlessly dulling their senses, that didn’t mean much. Although… no. There was something. A sense of foreboding, of impending doom, however slight, was settling into their stomach. The itching suspicion that something was about to go terribly, horribly wrong.
Byleth tensed, pushing through the headache, ready for anything.
Right on cue, Felix stepped forward again, cutting off their exit from the classroom. “Everyone has weapons used against them,” he said, just like last time, “and reading them is the difference between life and death.”
Just like that, Byleth’s escape was denied. Their mistakes were repeated. They had waited too long, and Felix had boxed them in again. The outcome they were dreading, the doomed scenario, was now realized.
It was annoying, but fine.
Their worry evaporated, leaving them with nothing but a pressing need to repeat their trip to the dining hall and no means of doing so. Despite themselves, they breathed a sigh of relief. Then they loudly sneezed again.
“Did you not eat enough lunch today, Professor?” came Ashe’s voice.
Another repeat. Byleth’s headache was feeling awfully familiar.
“Annette,” said Felix, again, “so what if you don’t use a weapon? Your enemies do.”
Byleth sidestepped him before he could close off their path to freedom a third time. It was a clumsy maneuver, one that left them leaning far too heavily on Dimitri’s desk, but they would not be repeating that same mistake again.
With the space now empty, Annette stepped forward instead. “Your enemies use faith magic, too,” she riposted, blessedly not blocking the exit, but still well within contagion range. Byleth leaned further away. “Understanding an enemy healer’s range and how their magic works can drastically change the outcome of a tactical engagement.”
“If your enemies live long enough to receive healing, you need to be hitting them harder and faster,” growled Felix.
Well, at least they were having a productive discussion. Well, maybe less productive and more… lively. Yes. A lively discussion. Regardless, it was time to leave. Byleth steeled themselves for the bright outdoors and began walking.
…Only to nearly collide with Ingrid, who might as well have risen from her desk specifically to cut off their retreat. “I’m with Annette on this one, Felix,” she said, blissfully ignoring the consequences of her actions. “You can’t always rely on taking all of your enemies out right away.”
“Maybe you can’t.”
Ingrid narrowed her eyes.
“Before we get into all of… this…” interrupted Dimitri, in a diplomatic tone heavy enough to bludgeon a horse, “perhaps we should ask the Professor for their input.”
Byleth didn’t want to provide input. Byleth wanted their headache to go away.
“You said you were hungry, Professor,” said Ashe. It was about time someone started paying attention. “I can go fetch you something from the dining hall, if you’d like.”
Byleth shook their head, though that only made their headache worse. There was an order to things. They didn’t just need to eat, they needed to breathe fresh air, to take advantage of the peace and quiet that would disappear after academy hours, and above all else, they needed to rest. This class—
In the corner, Mercedes applauded politely as Sylvain struck Felix in the head with a paper projectile. Balled-up schoolwork, most likely. Doubtless his aim would never be this good in the field.
—This class would not let them rest.
Byleth clutched their head and made for the door. “Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves,” they grit out. Leaning heavily on the doorframe for a moment’s rest, they hesitated. The class would be fine, right?
They glanced back over their shoulder. Ashe, wearing a frown, was waving goodbye. A grinning Sylvain slipped past them into the courtyard, making a quick left turn towards the training grounds. Ingrid was holding Felix back from pursuing anyone out the door, and the rest were already distracted.
Byleth sighed. What could they even do? “Be good,” they flatly instructed to no one in particular. And then they were off.
The brightness of the sun somehow managed to hit them even harder this time around, even though they could have sworn they were ready for it. Byleth kept to the shade, leaning hard on the walls and letting their skin drink in the coolness of the stone. It was slow going, another in a long line of frustrating setbacks, but so long as they kept at it, they would arrive back at the dining hall soon enough.
It was a bit of a lonely struggle, come to think of it. They hadn’t seen Sothis at all today. And now, reaching the garden, things were about to get tougher. They couldn’t keep relying on the walls to support their weight, but they couldn’t reliably walk on their own, either. They would need to find an alternative.
Grabbing a handful of hedge, Byleth tested their weight against it. The greenery bowed eagerly around their shoulders, too eagerly – it nearly tricked them into toppling into the bush. They managed to fight their way back out, despite the strain on their headache. It seemed the hedge would be of no use today. Thankfully, it seemed no one was around to see their blunder.
Suddenly, someone popped out from behind the hedge. An ambush! Byleth narrowed their eyes.
…Wait. No. Not an ambush. Just, “Sylvain.”
“Hey Professor,” Sylvain greeted sheepishly, out of breath, with a loose smile on his face and his hands raised in a calming gesture. Not a threat. But the more Byleth thought about the situation, the less sense it made. Did he come here the long way around? Where did he find the time?
…Their illness couldn’t be that bad, could it?
“Fancy seeing you here,” continued Sylvain. Perhaps he’d tired of waiting for Byleth to respond. “I’m just on my way to the dining hall. Care to join me?”
Byleth frowned. “Didn’t you say you were going into town?”
Sylvain blinked. “…I never said that.” Then he seemed to catch himself, and his lazy grin slid back into place. “You must be thinking of yesterday,” he added with a wink. “Besides, I can’t tonight. I know better than to be late to my weekly training with Ingrid.”
Something about that didn’t quite fit, but puzzling it out was too much for Byleth’s headache.
Sylvain seemed eager enough to move on. “Seriously, let’s go already. I’m starving!” He grabbed their wrist and dragged them into the entrance hall.
They shook him off once they were inside, and while they didn’t lean on the walls quite as often as before, they made sure to keep them within arm’s reach. Sylvain strolled languidly ahead, clearly not in that much of a hurry to get his dinner. There was something deeply confounding about his behaviour, and Byleth’s exhausted brain spun itself in circles trying to decipher it.
Sylvain seemed to notice Byleth’s stare tunnelling into his skull, and so he cheerfully but firmly insisted that they sit down at the first available table while he fetched food for the both of them. Alois’s public service voice was already loud enough at this range. The offered reprieve was welcome after the painful walk here, and so Byleth could not be bothered to complain.
After a suspicious amount of conspiratorial whispering at the food counter, Sylvain returned promptly with two meals: a bowl of Daphnel Stew (Alois’s serving comment, “I won’t hold it again stew,” might as well have been beamed directly into Byleth’s soul), and a plate of Garreg Mach Meat Pie. Byleth lamented how little they could smell.
Sylvain placed the dishes in the middle of the table, side by side, and sat down comfortably. “Take your pick,” he said.
There was no contest. Byleth pulled the Garreg Mach Meat Pie toward them and wasted no time in attacking it with their fork.
With their first forkful ready, Byleth pondered the pie. It was finally here. Everything about it was exquisite, from the way it sat on the plate to the steam pouring forth from the breached crust. The journey had been much longer and much more complex than they had planned, but their hard work was finally about to pay off.
There was, of course, a single drawback to the Garreg Mach Meat Pie. That was to be expected. There was nothing in the world so perfect as to escape flaws entirely, though Byleth would argue that the Meat Pie’s flaw only really enhanced the experience. The issue was that the first bite was underwhelming, at least in relation to the rest of the pie. Since the meat was fully encased in crust, the first forkful was something of a dry and bread-saturated letdown. It was good, certainly, but it didn’t hold a candle to the main body of the dish.
In practice, that just meant that there were two phases to consuming the pie: the first bite, the one without proper balance, which brought someone not eating dinner into a state of eating a good dinner; and all of the other bites, which took someone who was eating a good dinner, confiscated the imbalance out of their food, and instead fed them the best dinner there could ever possibly be.
Byleth couldn’t wait any longer. They had to reach that second phase. They stopped admiring the food and put their fork in their mouth, doing their best to savour the excess of crust. The tiny morsel of meat that had managed to come with the crust only made them ache for more.
“Professor?” asked Sylvain, whose stew lay forgotten in front of him. “Is it really that bad?”
Byleth just looked at him.
“Oh. Uh. I take it back! You didn’t look very impressed, that’s all.”
Byleth prepared their second forkful. It looked perfect. It was perfect. It was so perfect that they couldn’t eat it right away, they just had to pause and savour the scent.
Then they sneezed. Reality shattered again, and their hopes and dreams shattered right along with it.
“Why not discuss something else, then?” Ashe was saying. “Like how to handle various weather conditions?”
No! They were back in the Blue Lions classroom. Their dinner had been unmade!
“Or how to continue fighting through an injury?” offered Dimitri.
Byleth sank into the nearest seat and held their head in their hands. Why were they given this power if it only brought them suffering? Why?
Ashe scrambled back to make room on the bench. “Professor! Is everything alright?”
The students’ voices were starting to blend together as they took in the situation.
“Whoa! What’s happening?”
“Tch. I can’t stand weakness.”
“Felix, back up.”
None of it mattered. Byleth was exhausted, weaker than ever. They had regained the energy they’d previously spent on reaching the dining hall, but Divine Pulse was strenuous enough on its own. Every fresh repeat wore them down further, and their illness was making everything worse.
Maybe they just had to give up. Returning to their room for some much-needed rest would be a sound plan, and there was nothing wrong with that decision, but after everything they’d dragged themselves through, it felt like a crushing defeat. All they’d wanted was a little contentment, the simple satisfaction of eating their favourite food. But in their current state, that was just too much to ask for.
“Professor?” asked Dimitri, searching desperately for meaning in Byleth’s face. “Are you… bored?”
Byleth slouched pathetically against the desk, burying their face deeper into their hands. It was a miserable existence they led. They would just have to go to bed hungry, and nothing they did could change that. “I just want to eat the Garreg Mach Meat Pie.”
“Oh,” Dimitri replied. “The dining hall should be open by now. I’ll go fetch it for you.”
…He would do that?
Byleth’s spiral of shame ended abruptly. Salvation was at hand. They looked up at Dimitri with fresh eyes, admiring him in a way they never had before. He was their saviour.
“Ah,” Dimitri backpedalled, not quite masking his alarm at the reaction, “sorry for the foolish suggestion. I meant no offense.”
No. No! Curse the blankness of their face, there had been no offense! “Go fetch it,” Byleth pleaded, gripping Dimitri by the shoulders. “Please.”
Something closer to understanding passed behind Dimitri’s eyes. “Yes? …Very well. My apologies.” He stood up dutifully straight. “I’ll be quick, Professor. You have my word.”
Byleth watched him go. The sunlight from the courtyard framed him in a sort of halo as he exited the classroom, and it was a fitting image. They needed him to succeed. It was a difficult quest, but Dimitri was strong. He could do it.
“Mercedes,” Ashe prompted. “What do you think?”
“It’s tough to say without a closer look,” replied Mercedes. She turned her attention directly onto Byleth. “How are you feeling today, Professor?”
Byleth blinked. They had been surrounded again! Curse their foolish distraction. This time there really was no escape… but given a little time, maybe there would be meat pie. They decided to tolerate the intrusion. “Fine.”
Mercedes frowned, her eyes creasing with the gentlest hint of scolding. “You hardly look fine, Professor.”
Right. There had been a question. How were they feeling? “Sick.”
“Could you be a little more specific, Professor?” Ashe asked patiently. “What symptoms have you been dealing with? When did they start?”
Speaking of symptoms, Byleth’s headache was taking no prisoners. “It started when I woke up,” they managed. “Getting worse all day.”
Mercedes gasped. “All day? You should have said something sooner!”
Byleth winced at the volume. “Seteth didn’t leave much room for argument.”
Ashe, bless his heart, made an effort to speak softly. “You should tell him next time. I’m sure he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Dedue, who had joined the formation at some point, nodded curtly. “Professor Hanneman was sick two months ago. Seteth helped to make arrangements.”
“What about Professor Manuela?” asked Mercedes. “She’s often unwell, I hear.”
Dedue’s forehead creased. “He seemed… less understanding.”
“Hm. That’s hardly—”
“We can talk more after dinner,” Byleth decreed. After dinner they would hopefully be well enough to sneak off to bed without too many questions. But even if not, their headache was already displeased with the pace of the conversation. They didn’t need to hear about what they should have told Seteth this morning. It was much too late for that now.
The students got the message quickly, at least. After a few muttered apologies, things were much quieter. For once, Byleth’s headache actually seemed to get less intense. A little relaxation might finally be possible.
Then Dimitri burst back onto the scene, and the illusion was shattered. “Here you are, Professor,” he announced, “the Garreg Mach Meat Pie!”
Byleth’s headache took the news poorly, but the presence of the meat pie more than made up for it.
“Another thing,” Dimitri continued, setting the dish down on the desk. “Alois wanted me to inform you that…” He focused, intoning his next words carefully. “—if you want him to fork over a second serving, it isn’t… too plate…” Dimitri’s shoulders drooped, and he shook his head. “Or something of the sort.”
Byleth nodded gratefully, snatching the fork from Dimitri’s hand and pulling the dish closer. One serving of the Garreg Mach Meat Pie was enough of a blessing, but Alois was right. If they wanted a second, it should never be too plate.
They considered skipping the crusty first bite of the pie – they had already been teased enough after last time – but they resolved to follow the usual procedure anyway. Some lines should never be crossed. It was a bout of weakness and frustration that drove them to even consider an alternate path. Not willing to change their mind again, they put the crusty forkful in their mouth. It was good, though still not the best part of the pie. They made a point to chew faster this time.
Then it was time for the second forkful. Byleth did not waste time savouring the moment. They just crammed the food into their mouth, and oh, what a savoury triumph it was. Glancing at the concerned faces of the students around them, they felt a warmth bloom in their chest that felt somehow greater than the warmth of the food. Their students were concerned for their well-being. Their students had helped them with their struggle, and it was with their students’ help that they had finally managed to eat a proper mouthful of the legendary Garreg Mach Meat Pie.
“Thank you, Dimitri.” Byleth felt a smile blossom on their face. “Thank you, everyone.”
Ashe smiled shyly back. “We’ve hardly done a thing, Professor.”
“You’re welcome to our help any time, Professor.” Dimitri seemed to relax. “I will admit, it is quite nice to see you smile.”
The other students began to chime in, and Byleth was happy despite the aggravation of their headache. They felt themselves relaxing in turn, and they breathed a quiet, happy sigh.
Then an itch crawled in behind their nose, and things were being set in motion, and they could do nothing to stop this but cover their mouth and—
Byleth sneezed deeply, forcefully, and the sound of time shattering rang so loud and so long in their ears that they worried it might deafen them. The warmth of food and company was dissipating rapidly. Their stamina and their spirits were sapped by the loss in equal measure. The classroom vanished, sweeping the concerned students away with it, replacing it all with a dull and incomplete darkness. Their entire body ached. Slowly, the noise faded until only a rhythmic thumping remained.
If they didn’t know better, they’d say someone was knocking on a nearby door.
“Professor,” came Seteth’s muffled voice. “It reflects poorly on the Officer’s Academy when one of our instructors is late to their own lecture.”
Byleth blinked.
They were lying down in bed. Upon closer inspection, they recognized the darkened features of their room, right down to the way the morning sunlight shone under the door. They must have travelled back to sometime this morning before they’d gone to class. That was bad. They didn’t have the stamina to go through the day again! Even aside from that, they weren’t prepared for such a dramatic change. Their exhausted brain was left scrambling to catch up. It was morning now, and hadn’t someone – Mercedes, maybe? Dedue? – mentioned something they should have done in the morning?
Well, they had to deal with an angry Seteth. That was the first thing. They needed help for that, too. But what could they do?
Drawing a complete blank, Byleth screwed their eyes shut and waited for time to reverse.
“Professor!” Seteth’s patience would not hold for much longer.
Time did not reverse.
Well, so much for that plan. “Come in,” Byleth croaked, fighting to sit upright in bed. If they had to deal with this now, they might as well spare the very real headache and stop trying to talk through the door.
The instructions were followed, and Seteth stepped inside. “Professor, this manner of conduct is—”
“Wait.” Byleth blinked blearily at him. The light streaming in from outside was much too bright. “I’m supposed to…” There was definitely something. Someone definitely said something they should have done this morning. They had dismissed it then, but what was it? “I have to—” There was Mercedes, and Ashe, and then Dedue had said something about Hanneman and Manuela, and the conclusion was…? “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Seteth fixed them with a pitiful stare, and then his eyes seemed to glaze over as he resigned himself to whatever was coming. “Do try to hurry.”
Well, yes. He was right about that, too. Byleth dragged their legs out from under the blankets and rose precariously to their feet. A wave of lightheadedness overtook them, and they leaned heavily against their desk and chair before sinking back onto the bed.
“Professor,” pleaded Seteth. “Please. You are late enough already.”
Byleth held up a hand. They needed to think. But their attempt to stand had only worsened their headache, so the hand drifted to their forehead instead. “Ow.”
Seteth sighed and looked at them more directly, doing a double take as he noticed something he hadn’t before. “Oh. Oh.” His eyebrows shot up at a rather alarming speed. “You look dreadful.”
Yes! That was it, right there. Byleth nodded vigorously, then clutched their head to recover from the headache. “I’m sick.”
“Yes, that—” Seteth interrupted himself, “Right. You can’t go to class today.”
“Sorry I’m late.”
“Yes, there’s no need to—” Seteth caught up with his thoughts and took a step back. “Don’t worry about teaching. I’ll fill in for you today.”
…That was it? It was that easy? Byleth wouldn’t have to suffer through another day of classes with this dreadful cold. They didn’t even have to ask for the help they so desperately needed. They didn’t know what to say! “Thank you,” was all they could manage.
Seteth seemed to understand the gravity of it, at least. His expression softened. “Of course.” Resting a hand on a few pages of notes on the desk, he asked, “Is this today’s lesson plan?”
“Yes,” Byleth confirmed. Seteth always did have a good eye for that sort of thing.
“Good. You focus on getting some rest, Professor.” Seteth paused, frowning at them. “Seriously. Lie down.”
“Oh. Right.” Byleth complied, collapsing senselessly onto the mattress.
Seteth sighed, drew the blankets overtop of them, and then made his way to the door. “I’ll talk you through my notes on today’s class first thing tomorrow morning. That is all. Good day, Professor.”
Yes, that sounded good. Seteth was plenty capable, so he shouldn’t need anything else from them for today’s lesson. After that, it was just dinner, though Byleth couldn’t imagine trying to go to the dining hall in this state.
Although, reaching the dining hall would be important… And help with today’s teaching had proven to be much easier to obtain than they had expected. Yes, once they rested, they should ask…
Byleth bolted upright before their awareness could fade any further. “Wait—”
Seteth paused and looked over his shoulder, resting a hand gently on the doorframe. “What is it?”
“Please send… dinner…” urged Byleth, their consciousness already beginning to slip away from them. “The Garreg Mach Meat Pie… is on special…”
A nod. “Very well. I’ll see what I can do.”
Then the door clicked shut, and Byleth drifted off.
They slept soundly through the day. After a gruelling battle’s worth of Divine Pulse exertion, their body craved rest. Nothing disturbed them until they heard a soft knocking on their door some hours later.
“Professor?” came Alois’s voice, its volume somewhat subdued. “May I come in? I’ve brought you a nice, warm meal.”
Byleth didn’t quite know what noise came out of their throat at that point, but whatever it was must have been affirmative enough. The door opened.
“I won’t be long.” Alois moved quickly, depositing a steaming mug and a dish of food on their desk. “Whenever my daughter is sick, all I need to do to make her feel better is prepare a nice and hearty poultry soup. Something in the broth must help with the healing. I learned that from Captain Jeralt, you know.”
Yes, that did sound familiar. Maybe Byleth would have some Daphnel Stew tomorrow. Plenty of poultry broth in that.
Alois smiled kindly. “Well, there you go. This should have you feeling better in no time! Is there anything else you need?”
Byleth managed a shake of the head.
“Alright.” He was already back in the doorway. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Get well soon!” Alois waved in the doorway, beaming, and shut the door firmly behind him.
Now that they were awake, Byleth took a moment to assess their cold.
They felt quite a bit better. It was a relief. The day of rest had worked wonders, and their head hardly ached at all anymore. They were definitely hungry, though, especially with a fresh and warm dinner in front of them, so they made their way to the desk chair. There was no need to risk spilling everything over the bed. Their sense of smell had even come back a little – they could smell the chamomile tea, and…
Wait.
No!
Slowly, achingly, Byleth leaned back in their chair and stared at the ceiling. Their eyes stung a little, but it would be alright. They would recover. It was dinnertime and the Garreg Mach Meat Pie was on special, but today they would be eating the dinner they had just been served: a bowl of Daphnel Stew.