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When she closes her eyes her father is dying again.
She goes back. They stop her. She goes back. She goes back. She goes back .
Time is a river slipping past Byleth’s fingers. She fools herself into believing she can grasp it, and then grieves her inevitable failure. She relives the same moment over and over again in her dreams. She twirls the ring between her fingers, wishing that when she thinks of her father she can see anything, anything else. For years Byleth had no one else. Perhaps she should be grateful that only now that she has her Eagles, a home, lives that twist and turn in tandem with hers, only now she has lost him. Instead she resents herself, every hour she spent teaching that she could have spent with him, as if she could have known. She could never have known. How could the only staple in her life just die? He was always supposed to be there, fighting at her side.
She must lead her students to battle. She must find the ones who did this. But how can she still hold a sword, when the one who taught her is gone?
When she closes her eyes her father is dying again.
When she opens her eyes he is still gone.
Byleth clutches her mother’s ring so tight her hand bleeds, and tries to imagine a moment with her father that won’t twist itself into the image of his corpse,
Vengeance does not bring him back. Shocking. He would find some way to make her laugh about that.
Sothis is gone. Jeralt is gone. In the eerie new silence of her mind, Byleth swings her sword just as Jeralt taught her. She tries to picture him beside her, herself a child, as he teaches that empty little girl to hold her own. She shuts her eyes, the image steady as she swings her sword again, again.
Byleth shuts her eyes, and she sees her father smile.