Is all that we see or seem

[fiveyearnap]

Peace in Fódlan was hard-won, and Byleth, for her part, was glad the war was over, especially after she'd had to put so many old friends to the sword. She was hopeful, though, that she could use her newfound authority as archbishop and queen to steer the unified continent away from its past mistakes, it's reliance on crests, it's classist ideologies.

She had her work cut out for her, to put it mildly. At least those who slither had been defeated along with the last remnants of imperial resistance. That was one less thing to worry about.

A tour of Fódlan was the first order of business, meeting the people she was meant to rule. Tensions were still high, especially in Adrestia; they were still licking their wounds, so her personal attention would hopefully go a long way towards earning a little of their goodwill.

Her return to Garreg Mach was a welcome one--this place, more than any other, was like home to her. There were still obvious scars left by the battle six years before. The gaping chasm that had once swallowed her still sat at the foot of the mountain, yawning like the maw of some hungry animal, but there were bridges now that spanned the gap, and sturdy walls to keep people from falling in as she had. They wouldn't be as lucky as her without the power of a god to revive them.

One year passed, and then another, and the old wounds began to heal. She spent her time delicately untangling the tapestry that was the society Rhea and her crest-wielding monarchs had woven over the last thousand years. Words came down from the mouth of the goddess incarnate, gradually putting the crest system to an end with the help of the men and women who were once her students, now the leaders of their respective territories. The church was restructured, hobbled in some ways--it couldn't be the seat of power in Fódlan as it once was, and neither coukd the monarchy. She named Ferdinand her first prime minister. He had grown so much since he was a loudmouthed youth in the academy.

Another year passed, and the parliament formed under her supervision. The need for a queen waneed, and she's glad for it. They were at peace within, allied now with Brigid and Almyra, and soon maybe Sreng and Morfis and Albinea as well.

Her students would not need her forever. She had taught them all she could.

Mood melancholy, Byleth descended into the Holy Tomb and wondered, not for the first time, when it would be her turn to rest here and what would become of the crest stone in her chest when that happened. She sat on the throne, peering into the dark recesses of the chamber and wishing Sothis were still with her as she had once been, but a noise in some corner drew her attention.

"Who's there?" she called, standing to investigate, following the sound into the dark. Wait, had this passage been there all along? She knew it was a bad idea to blindly explore, but her interest was piqued and one hand was on the hilt of the sword strapped to her hip while the other one felt along the wall.

Not that either of those things could help her when the stone gave way under her feet. She shouted in surprise and fear, almost certain she could hear the tinkling laughter of a little goddess echoing around her. Foolish as ever, my little one.