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It was beautiful here in the mountains above Garreg Mach. There was only a dusting of snow on the ground at the monastery, but the higher they climbed, the more snow they encountered, until Byleth and Dimitri were surrounded by a blanket of untouched white snow covering the ground and trees.
It was also cold enough to make Byleth pull her scarf over her nose and wonder if this was a fool’s errand. Seteth had certainly thought so. “The Archbishop cannot run off to chase after every rumor,” he’d told her seriously when she’d pulled the report from the pile.
“Then I’ll just stick with this one,” she’d replied somewhat flippantly. “It’s the fourth time this week that someone near the monastery has reported seeing a mysterious winged creature flying above the mountain. It could be one of our pegasi or wyverns trying to find its way home. Dimitri can go with me.”
Seteth had left it there; he’d assumed that Byleth was simply seizing an opportunity for time alone with her visiting husband. And that was part of the reason, of course.
But not the only reason.
As Byleth adjusted her gloves and hood, trying to chase away an ice-chilled breeze, Dimitri laid a warm hand on her shoulder. His Faerghus blood was suited to the cold, and aside from a faint pinkness to his cheeks, he seemed unaffected by the icy weather. “I’ve seen nothing so far. Have you spotted any signs?”
Byleth shook her head.
Her husband looked down at her with a gentle expression on his face. “Do you still think it might be Rhea?”
Byleth let out a long breath; it passed through her scarf and created a little cloud in the air in front of her. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “In her dragon form, Rhea is too large to be mistaken for anything else. But perhaps she’s flying high, trying to appear smaller.”
Guilt surged within her. Byleth had not been able to bring herself to visit the former Archbishop in her seclusion at Zanado. Rhea had kept too many secrets from her and from Jeralt, and Byleth still felt anger over those secrets whenever she thought too hard about it. But… she also knew Rhea loved her, albeit in a strange way, and she could not help worrying about the ancient Saint, alone save for Catherine in her exile at the Red Canyon.
On the other hand, if she wanted to see me, she could have written a letter instead of trying to spy on me in dragon form.
“I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” she told Dimitri with a sigh. “If it is Rhea keeping an eye on me, she probably wouldn’t land on the mountain and leave tracks.”
Dimitri’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “Let us climb a bit further, and then…”
But the words were cut off by a rush of icy wind, too sudden and too fast to come from the weather.
Byleth gasped as a winged creature flew directly overhead.
She knew immediately that it was not a dragon; it was too small. At first she took it for a pegasus, but the shape was wrong, the head and feet nothing like a horse’s.
She heard Dimitri’s breath catch. “Beloved. It’s… it’s a griffon.”
Byleth looked over at her husband, her lips parted in surprise. Dimitri sounded awed, almost boyish; for a moment he sounded like the Dimitri he’d been at the Academy. “I had thought they were extinct, or nearly so,” he said softly. “I never dreamed of seeing one in person. Could we try to get closer?”
Slowly, carefully, they followed the griffon’s path. The creature was faster than they were, of course, flying high and unencumbered by snow, but soon enough it dove towards the mountaintop, readying itself for a landing. They heard it call out as it hit the ground, a sound between an eagle’s cry and a lion’s roar, and Byleth found herself wondering if it was calling to others of its kind.
They found the griffon in a clearing, its head bowed and its breath coming in hissing pants. Byleth had to stare a moment, taking in the reality of an animal with the head and wings of an eagle but the body, tail, and paws of a lion. The creature was massive—not so large as a dragon, but bigger than a wyvern, its body heavier and more strongly muscled. Its head and wings were a dark honey-brown, and the fur over its body and tail was a similar shade; the animal glowed nearly golden in the overhead sun. It was stunningly beautiful, and beside her, Dimitri’s breath caught in awe.
Byleth’s heart sank as she saw the reason for its cry. Its front paw was bloodied and mangled, and it was holding the injured limb just above the ground, unable to put weight on it. It had clearly run afoul of a trap, perhaps one meant to catch and kill rabbits for a family’s dinner.
Dimitri’s joy turned to distress as he witnessed the creature’s pain. He said nothing, but Byleth could see his worry in the tension around his eyes, in the tight set of his mouth.
“I can heal it, if we can persuade it to be still,” Byleth told him, with more confidence than she felt. “Perhaps if we offered it some jerky?”
Tentatively, Dimitri drew a handful of dried meat from a pouch at his side. He extended it forward as he took a step towards the creature. It went still, watching him with birdlike amber eyes, its beak slightly open, as if it were deciding whether to bite Dimitri. Out of instinct, Byleth placed a hand on her sword; she did not like anything looking at her husband like that.
Dimitri tossed the meat forward. It landed in the snow, its red-brown dark against the white. The griffon took a slow step towards it, nudging it with its beak. It took a skeptical nibble, then began devouring the meat when it realized that this human had, indeed, offered it food.
And Byleth released a stream of white magic towards it. She had never been the equal of someone like Mercedes or Manuela; her healing magic was a thin thing, for battlefield emergencies rather than major injuries. But its effect was immediate. The griffon cawed out as broken bones knit themselves back together, as the skin around its paw healed. Soon, the only sign of the injury was a few patches of missing fur and thin lines of new skin that Byleth knew would leave scars.
The griffon swung its head towards Byleth, its eyes narrow, then swung back towards Dimitri. Then, to Byleth’s shock, it lowered its head in something nearly like a bow.
“I think it is trying to say thank you,” Dimitri said. He gave the creature a courtly half-bow in return.
“Um. You’re… welcome,” Byleth said as the griffon turned its head back to her, a bit perplexed to find herself talking to an animal, but grateful that the creature seemed better.
The griffon shuffled its paws, ruffled its feathered wings. Then it coiled in on itself, tensing its legs against the ground, raising its head to the sky.
It took off with a rush of wind, flying towards parts unknown.
“Extraordinary,” Dimitri breathed, his gaze on the horizon, one hand shielding his eyes against the sun. Byleth smiled, her chest warming at the sight of her husband so enchanted.
But she herself felt only a vague sense of disappointment, and she was not sure why. Not until Dimitri turned to her and tilted his head in concern.
“You hoped it was Rhea, didn’t you?” he asked softly.
Byleth blinked. “I–I suppose I did,” she admitted, surprised in spite of herself. “It seems wrong to wish that she was checking up on me. I’m the one who hasn’t gone to see her.”
Dimitri’s mouth quirked sadly; he reached for her hand, squeezing it gently in support. “Family can be… complicated.”
They began their trek down the mountain slowly, stepping carefully in the snow, following their own tracks back to Garreg Mach. Though Byleth was cold to the bone, she did not mind the slow pace; it gave her time to think.
They were within sight of the monastery walls when Byleth made a decision. “I think I should visit her. Rhea. I—it’s time.” A pause. “Would you—could you find time to go with me?”
And, even though their duties weighed heavily on them both, and a journey to Zanado was a near-impossible request of the King of Fódlan, Dimitri did not hesitate. “Of course, beloved,” he said, drawing her hands into his. “We can go as soon as you like.”