Honorary Golden Deer

Confessions of a drowsy Warlock

Linhardt was casually signing his name when he heard the scream from outside his study. Now usually the warlock would run through scenarios in his head – like, how did he get home? He was sure he had been at Garreg Mach not two moments ago. Or determine if the scream he had just heard was one of panicking fear and one he would have recognised. But, for some reason, he simply rose from his high back chair and unconcernedly opened his door. He confidently stepped out – which again was something out of character for him – and looked down to his right to see a bloodied body of a monk. Linhardt tilted his head to the side, that's strange since when were the monks of the Monastery making home in his family manor? A violent shiver ran down his spine at the sudden sound of metal scraping against the tiled floor of the hallway. He snapped his head to his left down the corridor and he paled dramatically. The figure that was still somewhat concealed by the darkness caused Linhardt's heart to falter. He could make out the curled horns on the figure's headdress and the blinding white hair – that used to be flowing and free – now tight and unwavering.

"Edelgard?" Linhardt gulped and faltered a step back in terror. Her features came to light as she stalked towards him. They were lit in fury and her pupils sparked with bloodthirst. What had the warlock terrified was the fact that they were aimed at him. He was literally and figurately alone. There was no carefree Claude, no pointedly opinionated Lorenz alongside the other members of the Golden Deer. There was no Byleth to place a hand across his chest to hide him behind his broad body. The professor's sword ready to counter and eliminate anyone who threatened his students. His thoughts were ripped away when Edelgard spasmed slightly and her natural frown turned to a smirk filled with vicious mirth. "Edelgard, we can- "

"Traitor! Deserter! Colluder!" The Empress screamed like a savage harpy and sprinted towards him with her axe ready to find its mark. Linhardt's eyes widened in horror and immediately let his fight or flight response activate. He retreated – duh... – yelping as he tripped over the monk's body behind him. It felt like slow motion as he put his arm up as if to defend himself as Edelgard pounced towards him. It took an age for the axe to be brought down at him. It was enough for him to take a trip down memory lane and mull over all his past regrets. The main one, not telling Byleth how he feels, the bottled up pent of passion and desire for him. As soon as the tip of the axe breached his shirt Linhardt screamed and bolted upright. He clasped at his chest and his pupils flickered violently around his room at the Monastery. The sweat glazing his forehead was wiped away with shaky hands as he tried to calm himself. It was only a dream...only a dream.

"Linhardt?" A sleepy voice called to him and the warlock shifted away as Byleth sat up wearily. His eyes seemed to widen and Linhardt was sure his features must show how terrified he really was. The sudden warmth that seeped through him as the professor placed his hand on his lower back and gently rubbed it soothingly. His other hand came to cup his jaw, caressing it as he tilted Linhardt's face to his. "What happened?"

"An all too real nightmare." Linhardt managed to say as he gazed into the light of Byleth's eyes. "I was back home, in my study. Edelgard came to the manor and – and killed a monastery monk and then me. Am I a traitor?" He asked the professor.

Linhardt closed his eyes as he felt Byleth's thumb caress his cheek and leaned unconsciously into the professor's comforting touch. He heard the man hum and he rose one shaking hand to grasp the other's and keep it there in case the professor decided to pull away. Byleth guided them back down to the pillow and Linhardt found himself staring and memorising everything his eyes could latch onto to. Who knows how long he had left...

"You're definitely not a traitor," Byleth promised and flipped the hand on Linhardt's cheek over. He entangled their fingers together and brought Linhardt's hand to his lips. The warlock hitched a breath at the soft touch and blushed deeply as if their wistful actions were forbidden. Linhardt's nightmare was now all but forgotten, replaced with the tantalising fantasy of what the professor's lips would feel upon his own, and the thought of the others faces as they kissed like their lives depended on it. "I won't let anything happen to you."